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whiskeyskin · 2 months

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Make Me Feel

Premise: What's that? The well trodden trope of weird potion creates problems of the - ahem - 🍆 variety? Well if you insist.

• Astarion x gn!tav • 18+ • E/M rating

They/them pronouns, Potion mishap!, interrupted masturbation, handjob, bj/deep throat, embarrassment, tone shift, mild canon trauma discussion, connection, enthusiastic consent, communication, dirty talk.

4.1k words

Edit: RAHHH! You're all so wonderful for getting me over 200 notes 😚 it may be a small number for some but to me it's a lot. Love you! 🥹🖤

Editedit: Over 400 notes?! Excuse me as I ugly cry 😭😭😚✨

Thank @northernolddragon for the beautiful screenshot 💜🥵

•°•°•

Tav was on watch with Shadowheart this evening, not that they really needed to with Gale's wards keeping an alarm on things coming in or out of camp but they all slept better with a night watch.

They'd enjoyed company and conversation as they spoke about everything and nothing. Mostly about Tav, since Shadowheart had very little memories to share.

A friendship had steadily grown with them, so much that she'd revealed herself a Sharron - which wasn't really a shock.

A low alarm pulsed and they went to investigate to the left of camp but after a little cooperation between Tav's survival skills and Heart's perception, concluded that an animal had triggered the alarm - hence the low pulse and the fresh animal tracks belonging to a rabbit.

Tav paused a moment, a thought flashing across their mind. They called to Shadowheart, "Hey, did you hear Astarion come back in from hunting?

"No, he didn't go out tonight. Said, 'he had something else to attend to'."

Again, Tav paused. Oh, shit. Had they promised he could feed tonight and completely forgotten?

"Are you supposed to be 'dining tonight'?" Shadowheart asked through a smirk.

"I don't think so.. maybe? Oh, gods. Maybe I did say." Said Tav, trying to think back on the day.

"Go check on him, see if he's waiting up for a midnight snack. I'll stay on watch." She pursed her lips and swished her long braid as she walked to do a patrol of the camp.

~~~

Tav quietly made their way passed the tents of their companions, who were softly - or loudly - snoring. Astarion's tent however still had a candle going and made no sounds of sleep, or revery but rather stranger noises. Hissing sounds from the side of his mouth and what seemed like a painful gasp.

Their brow creased with concern, Tav stepped up to the entrance of his tent. The noises intensified.

"Astarion?" Tav called through the fabric in a hushed whisper, "Are you alright?"

A choked noise of frustration replied to them first, "Uh-yes. I'm perfectly fine. Why do ask?" He retorted a little too sharply, despite his usual lulling tones.

"Shadowheart said you hadn't gone hunting and I couldn't remember if I'd agreed to let you feed tonight."

"Ah, you're such a sweetheart.. while I always delight in our little nightly visits, I've rather got my hands full with something at the moment." He strained, like he was in pain. Something wasn't right.

"Astarion. What's going on? I know something's wrong. What is it? What have you done?" Tav asked, exasperated.

"Ughh, it's nothing just-Arghh" he let out a muffled cry.

"I'm coming in." Tav announced, pushing their way inside the dimly lit interior.

"No, no, don't!" But it was too late.

Tav's mouth flew to their face, shocked at the view.

There, on the floor, in only his ruffled shirt and barely covered in his grotty blanket was Astarion. Although, the blanket was more of tent itself with what it was shielding.

"Oh! Oh, shit. Sorry-sorry! I'll leave." Tav blustered at the sight of the half naked pale elf on the floor before them. They'd clearly not been sounds of pain, and the frustration was aimed at them not leaving him to masturbate in peace.

"No, stay. Please." He croaked, desperate, "I don't know what else to do; I need your help."

"With what?" Tav questioned, averting their eyes to afford him some sort of privacy.

"I appreciate the gallantry but we can do away with the charade, you know what I was doing." He sulked, shifting his weight to sit up, the ruffles on his shirt bristling as he heaved himself upwards.

Tav's eyes tracked the movement and flitted down to the protrusion, unwavering in it's vigil against the thin protection of his grey comfort rag.

Hot flashes of memories seared their mind; remembering how it felt in their hands, hot and cool at the same time. Harder than rock as he'd moved within them, expertly stroking their sweet spot while feeding openly on their blood.

Tav bit their lip, then jolting back to the situation, looked away.

"Um, you said you needed my help. I don't know how I can-"

"I have been.. doing this to myself for the past three hours. It's incessant."

"Jeez, Astarion. I don't need to know that."

"Not for my own selfish good. I-" he growled to himself, it made Tav's stomach flip uncomfortably, "I drank something. It looked like a normal potion, but it tasted a bit off.. and now, this." He gestured to the distinct lump, "It's unbearable and painful if it's not being.. used." He paused, discomfort clear on his face.

A blush flooded Tav's cheeks, "Aaand, you want me to help by..?" They trailed, needing more explanation. Because if he was suggesting what they thought he was suggesting...

"Ugh, I don't know. This obviously isn't helping! Find something that can? Another potion, a spell? Anything!" He waved his arms helplessly into the air.

Astarion looked up at them; his shirt in disarray, his legs gently folded with the blanket tucked between them, with guilty but adamant eyes. He looked helpless and adorable.

A feeling was stirring in Tav's chest, something rumbling and loud but it wasn't arousal, it was laughter. They caught a snicker behind their hand, trying to hold in their amusement.

Astarion's face changed to surprise, with a big frown cutting across his beautiful features.

"Well, thanks a lot. Glad the bleeding heart thinks it's funny." He pouted.

"Oh, come on Astarion. It's pretty funny."

Astarion's eyes narrowed, "How precisely is this funny?" He demanded.

"It's so unfunny that it's funny again. It has to be laughed at how ridiculous this is. I mean, come on." They tried to explain, "you drank a strange elixir and now you have an erection that won't fuck off." Tav barely made it through the last word without sniggering, "You've been beating yourself stupid and it's not going anywhere. It's a fucking ridiculous situation to be in and if you can't laugh about it? Fuck." They shrugged, smiling brightly and encouraging him to see the funny side of this ridiculousness, "I thought you said Lae'zel was the one with no sense of humour."

"Actually, Lae'zel is hilarious. She just doesn't realise she's being hilarious," The frown on his face softened, a smile clearly fighting to spread across his face, "I suppose it is absurd. Most men would kill for this."

"Most people would pay good money for this problem!" Tav squeaked, "Oh gods, the old men that have given all their gold for this problem!" They whined out before coming down to kneel on the floor.

"All of them furiously masturbating to get rid of it after their mistress has left and their wife will notice." He chuckled.

"Oh, the scandal." Tav flourished.

"What would the neighbours say?" He jested, opening up to the idea that the incredulity of it all needed to be laughed at.

He mimed trying to push it down only for it to spring back up with a pop sound effect provided by him and they fell about cackling together.

It was nice. Seeing him smile.

~~~

They sat laughing for a while, trying to come up with unfortunate scenarios to find yourself in with this predicament. Each as hilarious at the next.

Howls turned giggles, and giggles turned to titters, until eventually they were all laughed out.

There was a comfortable silence between them for several moments. Tav glanced back at him.

"Did that help? Taking your mind off it?" Tav asked, hopeful.

"I'm afraid not. Still there. Although, it's taken away the urgency of needing that release."

"That's a start at least. What the hell's did you drink?"

"I don't know, it was in the pack from today's adventure with the hag."

"You drank one of the hag's potions?" Tav chided, incredulous.

"Of course not! What do you take me for?"

Tav raised their brows and wordlessly gestured to his lap.

"Point taken," he relented, "but, no it was a regular looking potion bottle. I needed a little healing, so I.." he trailed off, loosely waving a hand.

"You drank a random potion from today, before we'd had a chance to examine it and expected nothing to go wrong. You brought this on yourself." Tav pursed their lips mockingly.

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, dear. What am I going to do?" He asked, exasperated.

"Well, masturbating yourself sore hasn't worked, so it can't be about orgasming it out of you."

"Oh, I haven't orgasmed. That's what I was trying to tell you before, but in my feverish haze didn't get out into words properly."

"After three hours?" Tav asked, wide eyed.

"It was more stop/start than powering through. I'm drawing the assumption that while this potion grants me this bloody thing, it doesn't heighten the sensation much."

"Maybe it deadens it? To keep it going longer? That's why you couldn't.. yuh know." Tav mimed the action for affect. They shared a small titter through their noses.

"I haven't a clue. Although, I'm not really.. versed in this sort of thing. It's not something I do, not something I've done for centuries," he admitted, shrugging, "Self pleasure wasn't high on the list when the thought of touching anyone, let alone yourself made your skin crawl-" Astarion caught himself, his eyes widening.

Tav's mouth gaped, "What?" The question came out breathy and low. Hurt struck painfully into their heart, "So the night we spent together you were disgusted-"

"-No. No. Well, at first it I was a little but-"

Tav's eyed widened and they recoiled, wounded. He knew he'd revealed too much and Tav could see that flawless mask of his was trying to slot back into place after it's momentary lapse.

"Don't." Tav urged, "Don't pretend you didn't say it."

"It wasn't like that-I didn't mean you, you're wonderful. I meant in Baldur's Gate with Cazador. The manipulation, the decite. I couldn't. I never." He stopped himself.

Tav softened, the harm still stinging but this was important. Astarion had never spoken about his time with Cazador apart from being a slave and using sex to lure people back. He hadn't elaborated more than those facts. Obviously he would have sexual trauma. And he'd opened up a chance at the conversation.

"It's alright. I'm here to listen. Go on." Their tone was low and understanding.

His face full of uncertainty and shame, Astarion shook his head and refused to look at them.

"I don't want to. Not yet. Not now. I mean.. I just want this thing gone." He motioned to his still swollen member.

Tav's brow knitted and they shrugged heavily.

"Apart from distracting you from it, I don't know what I can do." Tav raised their hands in exasperation, "I mean if you can't do it after three hours, what am I supposed to do-"

"Trust me, you'd be able to help." He said darkly, almost to himself. His gaze darted back, scared by another accidental confession. Tav's confused expression must have been clearly legible.

"What do you mean?"

Astarion averted his eyes, clearly debating on letting more of his secrets out.

"Shit." He cursed. There was a pregnant pause that Tav refused to break.

"You-" he stopped himself, "the other night at the party was- it was-" he shut his eyes and sighed through his nose, "I can't do this, you can leave. I'll just keep this forever."

"Astarion.." Tav said softly, gently reached a reassuring hand to the floor beside him.

He took a deep, cleansing breath and swallowed.

"It was the first time I've known actual pleasure in almost 200 years. Where I actually enjoyed myself, much to my surprise."

Suddenly feeling relieved and very flattered, Tav remained stone-faced silent, encouraging him to keep going.

"My existence has been about having my body used to lure back pretty things for him. To get them to trust me and let their guard down, then.." he trailed off, "I tried to make the most of it and relish in the copious amounts of sex I was having.. It didn't last long. I got extremely good at pretending I did, they never suspected a thing." He said with a sneer.

"I became numb to the entire experience. It was nothing to me. A dance. A deception. It became second nature and I got used to the disgust I felt, I used it to push through. To hold onto some semblance that I had one shred of humanity left. As long as I despised myself for what I was doing, there was still hope."

"So imagine my shock when I actually felt something different with you. Something good." He finally looked in their eyes, "You are a bastion of firsts in this newfound freedom of mine. My first true blood, the first person who has let me indulge in my instincts and helped me grow in my power," Astarion swallowed, "the first person in so long to make feel something.. anything.. during sex that wasn't hatred and self-loathing."

Tav's throat closed and tears threatened to brim but they blinked them back.

"You offered your neck to me, your life blood to me and I felt something.. it wasn't like our usual feeds.. it was something immense.. something transcendant and I.. I lost myself in you.. wholly. Pleasure had returned to my body and I froze. I didn't know what to do."

"Nothing else existed outside us.. and I could have spent the rest of my life buried inside you," he paused, closing his eyes as if the memory over-powered him. Tav sat there, breathless, mesmerised by his beauty in the candle's soft glow.

"I think I came back to consciousness when I saw my seed over your beautiful body. You looked just as shocked as I felt. It was all over your chest, your mouth.." he was breathing heavily now and the air around them shifted. Tav swallowed dryly. They remembered.

The grunting, ecstatic moan he'd made when he came over them echoed in their mind long after. They'd pulled back from lavishing his thick, pale cock to pause for breath and to whisper sweet words to him. He'd erupted on them with no more than a silent gasp and a hand fisted in their hair.

Staring deeply into Tav's eyes, Astarion continued, "You took me so well," he brought a hand to their bottom lip, grazing it lightly with his fingertips, "With your mouth.. with all of your holes, actually. Your wonderfully tight holes." He moaned through a sly smile.

Tav's mouth was aridly dry, as all the blood in their body waved and pooled to their core. Heat radiated through them and quickly made breathing steadily a problem, and logical thinking was non-existent.

"I know you could do it again, if you wanted to." he closed his eyes and snaked himself closer against Tav's neck, inhaling deeply. His breath cool raising gooseflesh, as he pressed his lips against the shell of their ear, "You could wrap those soft lips around my cock and suck me like you did in the forest. So deep and so warm."

Tav's thoughts were like wading through thick, soupy mud as Astarion's words clouded their mind and flooded their body with desire.

"I've never been devoured quite like that, you fit yourself around me so well.. you were such a good f-"

Tav quickly brought their hand to his mouth. He had to be silenced. His seductive power was too much to leave unbridled.

Mentally shaking off his charms, Tav came some what back to their senses.

"In one breath you tell me how disgusted you are with sex and the next you say about wanting my 'tight holes'? What is it that you want, Astarion? You can't have it both ways."

"Of course I can, darling. Now I can. Things have changed. Lots of things. I have my body back and I decide what to do with it. And right now.." he moved with the lithe limbs of a panther to sidle himself beside them, the grey blanket gently pulling back to reveal his thick, swollen manhood. He exhaled at the softness leaving him, "I want.."

Tav swallowed hard, their lips parted. Another wave of euphoric desire swept over them as the cool touch of his skin ghosted against theirs.

Astarion reached over and grasped their hand and placed it on his engorged cock.

"This." He hissed as their skin finally touched, his cool hardness welcome in their palm.

Gods, he was so erect. The veins in his thick shaft pulsating. The velvet softness of him thrummed with desperate need.

He was so close to them, so close now.. they could kiss if he wanted them to. Astarion breathed against Tav's mouth, "Touch me."

He started to move both their hands in short bursts over the head of his penis, Astarion shuddered out a gasp and screwed his eyes shut, "Touch me. Please."

Tav willingly acquiesced, bending down to spit on his painfully erect cock and began to work.

He made a staggered, breathless moan as he leaned back on both hands, exposing himself to them. Tav pumped his rock hard length in a steady rhythm, remembering back to the Tiefling party that he had appreciated the gentle building of friction, to fruition.

His head was purple and looked sore from his abusing himself for so long in search of relief. Tav generated salvia in their mouth and spat on their other hand to use on him.

The sweetest moan they'd ever heard sang from Astarion's chest.

"Yes-yes-use your hands on me.. make me feel like before.. make me feel-" he gasped through the last word so ferociously he inadvertently bared his fangs.

Tav used their hands in symbiotic motion; pumping the bottom of his shaft with their non-dominant, while teasing and playing with the head between their deft fingers, all the while keeping his entirety slick in saliva.

Gods, they wanted to use their mouth on him properly. He looked so beautiful, unmasked before them. He had been so unexpectedly naked and raw with his past. Revealing hard and difficult truths regarding his lack of control, and autonomy of his own body.

And Tav had to respect that, no matter how aroused they were. They would show that his trust was placed rightly in them.

"Astarion?" They called softly to him.

He answered back with a broken, "Mhm?"

"Thank you for telling me what you did. I won't tell anyone else, you have my word."

"Mm-mm-thankyou, Tav." He managed, his voice tense.

Tav slowed their pace and Astarion let out a whine, balling up his fists in frustration.

"Don't pretend with me. Don't force it."

"I'm not, I swear." He gasped, looking directly at them, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his upper lip.

Tav smirked, "Promise you won't."

"Yes-yes, I promise. Please speed up again." He pleaded through gritted teeth, thumping his head back on the pillow.

"I will. But I'd like to use my mouth on you aswell, would that be okay?"

He let out a pent up huff of air, "Oh gods yes, yes, yes-please use that gorgeous mouth on me. Swallow me. Take me."

Tav smiled and quickly got into position, propped between his legs, "I'd also like to play with your testicles, if that's agreeable."

Astarion wrenched his red hot eyes open, making contact with theirs again. Tav irked a suggestive brow.

A devilish grin crossed his face, once again his fangs shone in the dim candle light, "Oh, my dear. That would be most agreeable." He purred through steadier breaths now they had paused.

"One request from me though; don't push my head down, I don't like it. I'll respect your wishes and you respect mine. Deal?"

"Deal." He smiled and reached down to collect his shirt up to reveal his pale, chiseled body. Tav looked hungrily at his toned flesh, desperate to snake it with their tongue.

They took a breath to ask but Astarion interrupted, "Yes, gods please yes! Lick it, kiss it, bite it, suck me. Do what you want with me.. I'll tell you to stop if it's too much."

"I'll hold you to that." They crooned with a serious edge, as they spat on their hand again, then manoeuvred themselves to be able to kiss his beautiful body, and pump the head simultaneously.

He twitched at the increase in contact and laughed hungrily through strained teeth, "Uhhgh, fuck yes."

Tav languished their lips and tongue across the defined muscles, gently sucking and nibbling occasionally for added sensation. They kissed and dragged their tongue up and down the V in his hips, paying equal and excruciating mind to each side, making Astarion moan and buck.

Tav firmly pressed kisses on the creases of his pelvis, breathing hot over the area. They took their time, languishing over his form with their mouth and exploring the contours of his hips and thighs with their spare hand. Astarion groaned in vexation.

"Ooh, don't tease me. Please."

"The potion is making you impatient. You enjoyed this last time." Tav reminded him.

"It's not the bloody potion-Gods above-AUGH-I'm asking nicely. Don't keep me waiting any longer, I've already been edged enough. Show me-make me feel-let me feel-"

Astarion gasped as Tav collected the precum that bloomed at his tip, and licked their fingers clean, before deftly angling themselves to engulf his thick cock as much as they could.

The noises that were illicited from the pale elf were unlike any they'd ever heard before - strained and trembling, through gritted teeth and grounded fists - and the sloppy, wet sounds that their mouth made around his unyielding cock were intentionally and debaucherously pornographic.

Momentarily retreating, they began flicking their tongue over the slit, Tav moaned from the back of their throat like he was a tall mug of water quenching debilitating thirst. One hand holding his length steady, the other lightly grazing his testes.

Astarion's thighs fluttered and tensed, as Tav heard a smile through his own moan, "Ooh, that's new."

"Mhm."

Gathering more sleek, Tav ran the flat of their tongue up the smooth underplane of Astarion's cock from base to tip, and encircled the head. His member twitched unconsciously as he let out a warm, low rumble from his chest.

"Is that alright? Not too much?" Tav asked, checking in. They kissed the crease of his frenulum, while nimbly massaging and squeezing his sac.

"Mm-mhm-yes. I'm gaining quite an appetite for your skills in this area." He cooed, shifting underneath them, "but I remember a rather more deeper approach last time."

Tav grinned at his less than subtle request, "Oh, my darling. We're just warming up.. but if you're ready for more. I will, of course.. oblige."

Unhinging their jaw like a snake preparing to consume their pray, Tav gorged on the willing partner in front of them.

Astarion sucked in a gasp and Tav felt a hand on the back of their head briefly, before being removed hastily. Tav heard his fist pound into the bedroll beside him. They moaned in thanks, vibrating against his solid shaft.

He replied with a deep rumble from his chest, "Yes.. that's what I've been missing. This is what I needed.."

Bobbing and dipping, taking just a little more in their mouth each time. Sucking and stroking his perfect length. Their mouth salivated and filled with lubricant, anticipating the meal in front of them. Finally meeting their lips on their pumping fist, working together harmoniously.

Tav relaxed their throat further and began swallowing the last length of him, suppressing the need to gag until it would afford the most pleasure. They flattened their tongue and swallowed, sucked and gagged as Astarion whimpered and moaned, unconsciously jerking. Tav placed a hand on his hips to steady him, to not ruin the mood by choking unexpectedly.

They pressed down just above his pubic bone as their lips bottomed out against him, tears forming wet stains under their eyes at the challenge of taking his full size. Tav gulped and gasped against his cock, enveloping him with their tongue and throat working in tandem, coating him in liquid slick. The debased, vile sounds coming from their meeting wet and loud and hot as the hells; pushing him higher, dragging him under, coercing him to cum.

He gasped and raised his head to look down at them. Tav met his tear-streaked, claret gaze, with their own.

"Ohh-yes-yes-look at me as you devour my cock-take it all the way down your throat-such a good-nasty-AHH-YES!" He gargled the last word through moans and his hips pulsated and thrust wantonly as he bunched his shirt in his hand, the other fisted around his greyed rag blanket.

His brows creased, his face wracked with pleasure and pain. His face contorted and twisted as he writhed and moaned. He panted and heaved and shook his head from side to side.

Concern furrowed their brow at his expressions, while he seemed to be "enjoying himself", they were reminded of his words from their conversation, that his sexual conquests couldn't tell that he was pretending.

Tav pulled back to breathe through their nose. They reached out with the tadpole and gently stroked his mind, seeking reassurance that this was what he wanted. That he wasn't pretending. That this was real. That this was what he wanted.

"Yesyesyesyes-oh gods-please don't stop-choke on my cock till you can't breathe-ARH-going to cum down your throat and taste myself on your tongue-fuck!-fuck my hard cock deep in your throat-do it-do it-doit-doit-doit" he repeated, trailing off in whimpers against his soiled comfort blanket.

That enthusiastic consent was all they required.

This was a challenge that they would unabashedly attempt to conquer. They had no idea if they could; he hadn't fed on them this time and the potion was an unknown quantity for help, or hindrance. They had no idea. But damned if they weren't going to try. Tav steeled themself and took a deep breath.

They made no illusions at a slow build in tension, they went straight for the kill.

Straining down his hard length to the hilt, making the most illicit and disgusting sodden noises as they consumed him, squeezing him with the throat that tried to resist his intrusion.

Astarion growled and whined and shook with the tension in his body coiled so tightly.

Tav stretched their jaw to lap their tongue against his balls, which tightened due to the expected feeling. He rewarded their efforts with another mumbled, half coherent onslaught of praise and explicit desires.

They re-applyed the pressure on his pubus, pushing down firmly against his taut skin.

A breathless gasp shot from his throat as the hand bunched in his shirt now flew to grasp their hand with choruses of, "yes-yes-yes!"

He was so close, they could feel it. His precum tainted the back of their throat. His jaw was tight and his glistening fangs were bared.

Tav remembered back once more to what had unexpectedly tipped him over the edge when they'd made him cum the last time.

Concentrating hard on keeping the fast-paced rhythm, tears streaming from their eyes, they flipped their hand to hold his properly.

Tav reached out through their connection and whispered, "I've got you, Astarion.. you're safe. Nothing bad is going to happen to you, I promise.. I have you.. Cum, Astarion.. cum, my love."

Astarion stilled, his every muscle contracting and seizing, his chest rising off the floor as his spine curved.

A gentle, surprised gasp escaped from his mouth. He squeezed their hand so tightly as their name died on his lips.

Suddenly Tav felt warmth shoot against the back of their throat as he came hot and quick, filling their mouth and spilling out the sides and he thrust wildly, unable to control his movements. His cries of pleasure muted and gasping.

Tav gagged and slowed to a gentler pace, swallowing him down. Astarion twitched and quivered as they saw him through his climax; still holding each others hand.

His soft, whimpering groans dissolved into laboured heaves as he relaxed into the lull of his orgasm.

A moan shuddered from him as Tav expertly extracated his thankfully - slightly - softening member from their stretched throat.

They tenderly cleaned him up with their tongue, as there was quite a lot that had spilled from his heavy, metallic-tanged load, while Astarion lay there in stunned silence.

Tav dried their eyes and gently rested their chin on his thigh and sighed deeply, their hands still joined on his stomach.

They kissed his cool skin, "Are you alive up there?" Tav asked, jokingly.

Silence.

If he wasn't already dead, they'd have thought he'd died.

"Astarion?"

"M'alive." He mumbled in a stupor.

"Good." Tav said through a wry smile.

They looked to their left where his cock was already starting to swell again and sighed.

"I don't think it worked, you're getting hard again."

Still nothing.

Tav furrowed their brow, "Do you hear me up there?"

Still nothing.

Starting to worry, Tav raised themselves up and started padding their way one-handed up towards his face. His crimson eyes were fixed on ceiling of the tent, drying tears still streaked down his temples.

"Are you alright? Was it too much?" Tav asked, worried they'd gone too far.

He finally blinked.

"My body feels like it's.. weightless and.. empty. My head feels like.. I've been zapped with a.. shocking grasp.. and my ears are ringing." His tone was high and dazed. His every move tinged with exhaustion. His expression one of pure contentment.

He was fully in an afterglow bubble. That was better than potentially traumatised.

Tav pursed their lips with pride, "Sounds like a good orgasm then. Was it?" They asked, feigning innocence.

Astarion gave a long blink and turned his gaze to Tav, who lay to the side of him.

"You've rendered me paralsyed. I think we can call that a success, don't you?"

Tav chuckled, "Well, a semi-success. You've still got your problem." They gestured a thumb towards his now alarming erection again.

"Oh no, that's not the potion. That's me."

Tav jerked their neck in questioning confusion, "Eh?"

"I'm laying here sprawled on the floor after one of the best orgasms of my long life. Two of whom have been granted by you.. and the only thing I can think of.. is that I need to do that again."

Tav bit their bottom lip through a grin spreading across their face.

"But we said that that night was a one-time thing and this is an extraordinary circumstance.. this isn't supposed to-"

His pale pink lips came up to capture their first kiss of the night and from the passion and force behind it, it was not to be their last.

Astarion slid his fingers to their umber trousers and cupped them through the fabric. Tav gasped against his mouth as they twitched within his grasp, the damp spot of their arousal staining their clothes. They sucked in Astarion's bottom lip into their mouth and cursed.

"Well, apparently that arrangement needs to be renegotiated." He smirked, as he kissed them deeply, sweeping his tongue to taste himself there.

He brought his hand to the buckle, "And these definitely need to come off."

•°•

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #bg3 astarion #bg3 smut #smut #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav

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littlejuicebox · 3 months

Text

A growing brood.

Summary: Gale has just turned three years old and is adjusting to the idea of becoming a big brother. He and Astarion go out for a walk in the orchard, where the older man gets an opportunity to practice some of his stealth skills.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, Dadstarion, parenthood, babies, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of Astarion’s past and trauma, idk what else

Gale is holding a toy sword he received on his birthday as he and Astarion walk along the back grounds of the manor. The child is swinging the wooden object haphazardly as he sings a babbled song his father can’t identify.

Astarion surveys the small orchard as they meander along the dirt path. He’d been sent here with the little boy at the request of his pregnant wife, tasked with determining whether or not the trees were ready to harvest. She currently stood on the balcony of their home, waiting for her husband’s signal. She wouldn’t make the trek out until then; it had to be worth navigating uneven ground and overgrown brush in her condition.

Picking fruit in the orchard had become Tav and Gale’s yearly autumn tradition. The first year they’d spent quite a bit of time introducing the little one to new fruits he had not yet tried.

Pregnant or not, she refused to miss the orchard harvest.

Astarion is secretly relieved when he determines nothing is quite ripe. He felt Tav was pushing herself too hard, going above and beyond to make their first born feel valued as he adjusted to the idea of siblings. But carrying the twins was starting to exhaust her and she desperately needed rest. She’d already overworked herself for Gale’s third birthday party just a week ago, despite Astarion’s protests.

The elf lifts his hand and shoots a ray of frost up into the sky. He knows his little love will see the signal and retreat back into the house. He hopes she will take a much needed nap now that their son is preoccupied with his father.

“CHARGE!” Gale shouts, running forward on two stubby legs with his toy sword in the air.

“Gale, don’t run in the orchard you’ll—“ Astarion starts, but before he can finish his chastisement the little boy’s foot gets caught on a particularly large tree root. He stumbles and falls onto his knees with a soft thud and a grunt of surprise. The toy sword clatters to the ground as Gale’s small hands extend in front of him to break the fall.

Astarion thinks they really need to dedicate outdoor clothes for the child. Traipsing around the orchard in gold threaded finery simply wouldn’t do. The older man’s eyes flutter toward the back of his head in exasperation as he walks over to the three year old calling, “Are you alright, Gale?”

The toddler stands back up, dusting off his hands. His previously pristine trousers are now caked in dirt and grass. He turns and nods to Astarion before responding, “I okay, Papa!”

A brood of their free-range chickens is clustered nearby, bawking as they peck at the ground searching for insects. The noise captures Gale’s attention and he forgets his sword, running towards the small cluster of birds.

“Chickens, guess what! I free years old now!” He shouts, holding his middle three fingers up to show the fowl his new age.

But as he approaches the chickens, they scatter off, deterred by the loud babblings of the boy. Gale huffs in disappointment. And then he shouts, “CHICKENS! Get over here now!”

The chickens bawk and run further away from the little boy, much to his chagrin. His shoulders sag dramatically as he pouts.

“You’d do well to learn that you’ll catch more flys with honey than vinegar, little prince.” Astarion lectures, coming up behind his son after scooping the forgotten wooden sword from the earth.

Gale blinks at his father, eyebrows crinkling in confusion, “But daddy, chickens doesn’t fly does they? My book say they doesn’t.”

The little prince was particularly fascinated by birds. At the child’s party a week ago, Gale of Waterdeep had gifted his namesake a set of twenty six children’s books listed A through Z, each covering the specifics of one bird. Astarion had just been held hostage by the three year old and forced to read “C” for chickens twice a few nights ago.

The elf had rushed through the first reading in an attempt to finish quickly and join Tav for a much needed tryst between mommy and daddy. Gale had refused to let him leave until he read the book properly.

“It’s an expression, Gale, it means— nevermind, it’s not important.” Astarion sighs, flailing his hand in a dismissive gesture. He isn’t about to waste his time explaining idioms to a three year old, “But maybe if you approach the chickens more quietly, they’ll come up to you.”

Gale considers this and then nods, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He begins walking toward the brood, trying desperately to be quiet. He’s just a few feet away when the chickens scatter again, clucking anxiously to one another. The careful movements of a three year old are still too noisy and abrupt for the birds.

The silver-haired boy groans in frustration.

“Watch me, Gale.” Astarion whispers as he hands the toy sword back to his son.

The elf crouches lower to the ground, easily engaging the predatory behavior he hadn’t used since turning mortal roughly four years ago. But the muscle memory alone allows him to silently and efficiently make his way to the group of chickens. Long-fingered hands dart out and quickly retrieve a spotted hen from the periphery of the brood.

Gale cheers before dropping the sword once again as he runs up to his father, wanting to examine the animal more closely. The rest of the flock members instantly run away when the little boy approaches, but he pays them no mind. Tiny fingers come out to gently pet the back of the bird.

“Good job, daddy!” The child exclaims, causing the older man to chuckle.

Astarion finds it entertaining that he is being praised for catching a harmless domesticated chicken. Gale truly had no idea that, only a few years ago, his father easily downed wild boars and a few bears with nothing but his fangs.

They’d purposely bought this estate on the outer edge of Rivington as a way to meet the nutritional needs of the prior vampire. In fact, Astarion had used the wild boar infestation in this very orchard to justify a lower price point from the seller and then quickly turned around and solved the problem with his hunting in a matter of weeks.

One day, Gale will know more about his father’s past.

But not today.

Today, Astarion is just a daddy catching a chicken.

Perhaps that’s who he truly is. Perhaps he doesn’t have to cling so hard to who he thought he was.

A light drizzle abruptly ended the walk in the orchard. Astarion scooped Gale up and hurriedly returned to the manor; the last thing he and Tav needed was the little boy catching a cold.

They were wearing a set of matching drenched curls when Astarion plopped his son on the back porch.

“Papa…” Gale starts, looking down at the toy sword he’s fiddling with in his hand, lost in thought.

“What is it, little prince?” Astarion asks as he removes his mud-caked boots before crouching to help his child do the same.

“When my other babies born,” He continues while lifting a leg, trying to help his dad remove the dirty shoes. The little boy had always referred to the twins as “my babies” and his parents simply shrugged it off as one of those strange things kids do, “You gonna love me, still, right, Papa?”

Astarion pauses.

Shit.

This was the type of sensitive, vulnerable, soft stuff that Tav usually handled so smoothly and Astarion felt sure he always fumbled.

The older man slowly places the child’s shoes down and then peers into his son’s round, emerald eyes. Gale was growing to be a much more sensitive and empathetic boy than Astarion had anticipated. The child might be the spitting image of his father, but his disposition certainly leaned more toward his mother.

It was something Astarion simultaneously feared and wanted to fiercely protect.

“Yes, Gale. I will still love you when your little brothers or sisters are born,” Astarion murmurs, bringing his hand up to gently brush it through his child’s unruly, wet curls, “You’ll still love me, won’t you?”

Gale nods and grins at his father as the worry in his little body fades away, “I love you always, daddy.”

The older man pulls his son into a hug, mostly to avoid Gale catching a glimpse of his father blinking back tears, “I will always love you, too, Gale.”

The elf lifts the little boy back up and heads into the house, planning to get them both into a fresh change of clothes.

The child may now be three years old and have two other siblings on the way, but whether he is three, thirty three, or three hundred… Gale will always be Astarion’s first baby.

And Astarion will always love his little boy.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #papastarion #soft astarion

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kittenintheden · 3 months

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ok but what if Astarion comes upon Tav very focused on sketching, and he flirts up a storm offering to model nude, but the serious artist Tav immediately agrees, and sets up an elaborate stage with candles for him before Astarion even knows what’s happening

Astarion receives a giant ass paining of him reclining like the girl from Titanic, and he can barely fit it inside his tent but dammit he’s never not going to hang it up, so every time Gale comes to pick up a book Astarion stole borrowed Gale gets an eyeful of gloriously naked Astarion

"Where in the Outer Planes is that damn book?" Gale shifts through his towering piles of tomes, each threatening to topple at any given moment. Yet they never do. Strange.

The great wizard of Waterdeep makes an exasperated noise, scanning the floor of his tent once more with his hands on his hips. When he comes up empty once again, he throws up his hands.

"Not like I needed this mana, anyway," he snipes, raising his hand in front of him to gently pass it through the material plane and into the Weave, pulling a comforting thread close and using it to draw a familiar rune in the air. He speaks an incantation, focuses on the book he desires, and releases the spell.

Gale's eyes glow with violet pinpoints in the center, granting him mystical vision to follow a winding trail that leads... directly to the vampire's tent.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I was Mystra's Chosen. I really should be able to deduce that the thief is the most likely candidate. No matter."

His robes brush across the dusty ground as he makes his way over. He doesn't bother announcing himself, seeing as Astarion never gives him such a courtesy. Or any courtesy at all, really.

"What have you done with my-" Gale cuts himself off as he enters the man's tent, jerking his head to one side as if he's been slapped and raising a hand in front of his face.

"Do you like it?" Astarion says from where he reclines on his bedroll, the book in question open on the ground in front of him. "Aren't I majestic? Tav's quite the artist, I must say. Very disciplined."

"Tav seems to have exaggerated certain proportions, if I'm honest," Gale says back testily, his eyes still averted from the massive painting that takes up the entire rear wall of Astarion's tent.

"Yes, the ears are a bit too long," Astarion agrees, looking upon his own oil-painted visage, reclined much in the same way he is now, surrounded by draping red silks and candles, and very much in the nude.

Gale heaves a mighty sigh and holds out his hand. "My book, if you would."

"Oh, fine. I'd think someone from Waterdeep would have better appreciation for the arts, honestly."

Gale feels the heavy weight of his copy of "Mystical Familiars and Where to Find Them" sink into his waiting palm. He waves it at his campmate.

"Good evening, Astarion. You seem to be in your favorite company, so I'll be on my way. Wouldn't want to interrupt."

"Ta," Astarion says with a wave of his fingers. After the tent flap swings shut once again, he admires his portrait once more. Tilts his head just a bit. Clicks his tongue.

"I suppose it is a touch asymmetrical. Pity."

He blows it a kiss nonetheless.

#astarion bg3 #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #ask box #these two are absolute clown shoes #I love them

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tumbleweed-run · 6 months

Text

Ethereal

Kinktober Day 25 Pregnancy

It didn’t matter how many times he saw her lately, Gale’s breath caught each time. When he thought of Tav the image his mind conjured up was still the woman he met, so it was a small thrill every time she appeared in the room. She was still absolutely stunning, but the fact that she was now carrying his child did something to him viscerally.

The pregnancy was far enough along that there was no denying it. Even while fully dressed, anyone with eyes could tell Tav was carrying their child. Gale had spent much of the early months laying in bed with her caressing the growing mound that was her belly. Now he enjoyed allowing his hand to stray to her stomach, occasionally blessed with the little sensation of tiny feet against his hand.

“Getting any work done?” Tav teased from where she’d paused by the door, undoubtedly watching him watch her.

Gale glanced down at the mess of parchment in front of him, “not important.”

She laughed and walked over to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “What were you thinking about?”

“How lovely you look carrying our daughter,” Gale answered almost immediately.

He heard the huff from above him, an amused and exasperated noise all rolled into one. “You’re so sure about that.”

“I have it on good authority that Morena Dekarios has correctly guessed the genders of the last 5 pregnant women she’s encountered,” Gale explained for probably the hundredth time, “and Mother took one look at you and declared that our child would be a girl.”

“Is that authority Morena herself?” Tav teased had disappeared further behind him.

Gale turned and found she had settled onto the seat on the terrace. The setting sun caused her skin to glow and Gale was momentarily frozen in awe. She looked every part the goddess right now, glowing both on the inside and the out. Luckily he knew that beneath her ethereal visage laid a very human heart. Tav’s humanity was some of his favorite parts of her, making her better than any god.

“What did I do to earn the right to love you,” he asked surprising himself, the words leaving his lips before they’d even entered his brain.

Tav smiled and rolled her eyes fondly. “You’ve been yourself and that’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she said insistantly.

Admittedly they had this conversation at somewhat regular intervals. Gale would likely never accept that he was worthy of loving someone like Tav. But everytime that black urge to prove himself in increasingly grandiose ways she was there to reel him back in. Reminding Gale that she loved him exactly as he was.

He rose from his seat and went to her. Instead of taking up the rest of the space on the seat, Gale knelt before her. Placing a hand onto the swell of Tav’s stomach he leaned forward and pressed a kiss. He was rewarded with a thump against his hand. Gale chuckled and delivered another kiss.

“I can already tell this one will be a handful,” Tav said fondly placing a hand over Gale’s as another kick fluttered against her skin.

“Alright little girl,” Gale said with mock sterness, “give your mother a rest.”

Another eye roll above him but when he looked up Tav smiled and he was once more struck by her beauty and his luck.

“Let me worship you,” Gale asked softly.

Tav blushed at his request, eyes darting around, “not out here.”

“No one will see,” Gale tried to reason with her, more than happy to cast them some cover.

She shook her head still.

“Alright,” Gale conceded, “then lets go inside.”

“Uhg,” Tav whined, “I just got out here.”

Gale laughed in response and took Tav’s hands before rising to his feet, “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

Tav allowed him to pull her to her feet at that promise. “You better.”

Gale lead her back inside and then further into the house towards their room. He’d considered using the couch in the study but knew their bed would be much more comfortable for her. His desire to touch her was easily outweighed by his desire to make Tav comfortable.

Once they got into the room Gale made quick work of her clothing. Unable to resist Gale leaned down and pressed yet another kiss to her bare stomach. Tav laughed and playfully pushed at his shoulder.

“I’m beginning to worry you might like be pregnant a little too much,” she accused even as she climbed onto their bed and settled against the mound of pillows that was beginning to take over their bed.

“I enjoy your body in all of it’s states,” he told her as he followed.

Gale pressed apart her legs slightly so he could kneel between them. He leaned up and captured Tav’s lips with his. She sighed into the kiss, raising up so she could deepen it. Gale was happy to let her lead for a while, resting his hands on either side of her face. The second Tav’s lips parted his tongue chased it’s way inside. He licked at the soft earthy flavor of the teas she’s begun enjoying lately until he found the flavor that was uniquely hers. They went on like this for several minutes until she was making soft noises into his mouth.

Gale broke away from Tav’s lips in order to trail kisses down her neck and across her collar bone. She relaxed back, seemingly happy to allow him his time to worship her. He trailed down into the valley between her breasts and she arched her back towards him. Taking the hint Gale kissed upwards until he could draw one of her nipples into his mouth. Tav gasped, hand raising up to thread into his hair. He swirled the nipple with his tongue, his hand raising up to gently caress its twin.

Tav moaned, legs spreading slightly in response. Gale gently pressed on of his knees forward against her core. She moaned again and ground down against his leg almost immediately. He released her nipple from his mouth and turned his attention to the other side. In the last few weeks she’d been nearly insatiable in bed, a perk of this stage of pregnancy she’d assured him. A perk Gale was all to happy to take advantage of.

When he’d spend enough time worshipping her nipples, Tav was writhing near constantly and he could feel her arousal seeping into the fabric of his pants, Gale allowed his kisses to trail lower. He spent a few moment kissing along her stomach before sliding his hands beneath her hip. Sliding back down the bed Gale gently pulled her after him until she was laying.

“Do you need a pillow?” Gale asked even as his lips trailed ever lower.

“Gale,” was Tav’s only response, a plea.

He sat up then and looked at her. “Do you need a pillow for under your hips?” He repeated.

Tav huffed, rolled her eyes, and grabbed a pillow out from the pile that was now above her head. “Yes, here,” she handed it to him.

Gale quickly helped work the pillow under her hips before returning his lips to the exact spot they’d left. Tav settled further into the bed with a contented sigh.

She was so delightfully wet when Gale finally made his way between her legs. Tav whimpered at his first lick between her folds, legs spreading even more. He was only happy to oblige to her silent request. He took his time licking every inch of her, swirling his tongue just inside her entrance. She moaned, hand finding its way back into his hair.

Gale gripped the pillow and pulled it forward so her hips tilted up a little more. “Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly, tugging softly on his hair trying to guide his mouth back down onto her.

Gale was laying flat on the bed now, hands resting under Tav’s thighs keeping them spread. As he lowered his mouth to her clit she cursed and rocked towards his lips. Gale’s hips rutted against the bed in response, his aching cock demanding attention. That was as much as he was willing to indulge it, his sole focus on sucking and licking at Tav’s clit.

She was unreserved in the sounds spilling from her lips. Moans and whimpers spilling out around the melding of his name and various curses. It was music to Gale’s ears and he moaned against her cunt. Tav gasped and pulled him closer enjoying the vibrations. Gale continued to moan as he licked, showing her just how much he loved his current position. Tav writhed and cried out above him as she came against his mouth.

Gale happily lapped at her under the waves of her orgasm stilled. Only then did he push up to sit back on his knees. Looking down at her he realized he was mistaken, she was truly ethereal now. Skin flushed, eyes dark with arousal as he hair fanned out a halo above her head. He wanted this memory burned into his brain forever, he would gladly forget every incantation to be allowed that.

“Gale,” Tav whispered, raising her hand to him after allowing him to look a her for several moments.

“I’m here,” he promised taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Yes but I want you up here,” she said and tugged at his hand until he leaned back over her to press a kiss against her lips.

“And here,” Tav continued, dragging a leg behind his thighs until he leaned forward, rocking his clothed cock against her core.

Who was he to deny her? Gale stripped as quickly as possible, eyes only leaving Tav when they absolutely had to.

“Like this?” He asked leaning over her when he was done, allowing his cock to brush against her folds.

“No,” Tav shook her head and pushed at his shoulders.

Gale sat back confused. Tav sat herself up and shuffled her body to the side of where she’d been. “I want to be on top,” she insisted.

“Are you sure?” Gale checked even as he shuffled his body into the space she’d just vacated.

Tav nodded and as soon as he stopped moving she threw her leg over his waist. She settled back until his cock was nestled between her legs, not inside just yet. Tav slowly rocked her hips against him whimpering each time his cockhead bumped against her clit. His hips followed her movements after a little, chasing after every one of her movements. Gale was happy to be like this for a while, lazily thrusting between her folds.

Tav was the one who grew impatient. Planting one foot into the bed she rose up and grasped his cock by the base. Gale knew her well enough to place his hands on her hips and when she began to sink down onto him he forced her to move slowly. She tried to glare at him but her eyes were heavily lidded in pleasure with each little bit he allowed her to sink down. Slowly they went until she was settled flush against him. Gale bit his lip in restraint as he wanted to allow Tav a moment to adjust

“I’m not fragile,” She insisted rolling her hips with him deep inside of her.

“Yes, but you are precious,” Gale reasoned, voice rough.

Tav didn’t try and argue only continued to roll her hips. Gale granted her a few more moments before releasing her hips and gently rocking up into her. Tav quickly rose up and then allowed herself to slide back down his cock. Each time she did this she swiveled her hips slightly. Gale thrust up into her as she quickened her pace, one hand resting on his chest for support.

She slowed eventually, movement becoming less smooth, she groaned in frustration. Tav’s muscles undoubtedly were growing tired. Gale planted his own feet into the bed and held onto her hips. He fucked up into her, taking over the motions entirely now. He could no longer tell who was making what noises.

Gale came first, hips thrusting up harder than he meant. He then pinned their hips together, a habit that would likely never die, as he filled her. Gale held her there until his orgasm faded. He quickly moved his hand, pressing two fingers between his skin and her’s until he found Tav’s clit.

He worked it, quickly using some of his cum that had begun leaking from her as lubrication as he rubbed. She squirmed cried out, fingers flexing on his chest until her nails broke the skin. He kept up with his fingers until only a little while later Tav came again, cunt spasming against his softening cock. She collapsed against him as she came.

Gale gently rolled them onto their sides so her stomach was no longer trapped between them. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin. Tav leaned her head further against his lips and sighed happily.

#Gale x Tav #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2023 pregnancy #only 6 days left!

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avonne-writes · 1 day

Note

Gale’s oral fixation + John’s big thighs 😍❤️‍🔥

Criminally hot 🔥 I had to write a drabble. This is set in my modern AU where they're postgrad students and best friends with benefits already in love with each other but scared to confess it.

Exam papers flutter on the desk of Gale's supervisor as the fragrant spring breeze swirls in through the open window. The Astrophysics department's small office smells like old bookshelves, leather and coffee, more comforting than the Business School's sterile ultramodern building. But John isn't here to examine the decor - he came to entertain Gale because he thought it was unfair that he had to be holed up inside, grading papers when the weather was so nice.

That, and because John wanted to kiss him.

It's all he can think about lately. His best friend's lips, their plump cushion under his own, the taste of them, soft skin between John's teeth. Given their amazing, perfect, completely causal agreement that they'd help each other out quick and easy if needed, he didn’t have any hangups about it. But he did think it would be weird to just ask to make out without an end goal, so he pretended to be horny as an excuse, even though he wasn't.

He just didn't count on Gale being the one who'd be too turned on to resist a quickie right where they could be caught anytime.

"Jesus Christ, Buck." John hisses in the rolling chair of Gale's supervisor, his hips twitching to thrust into Gale's hand. In the grip of Gale's pale fingers, he throbs with hot need, Gale's spit slicking his length to make the friction just right as Gale strokes him. "Warn a guy next time."

"Warn?" Gale asks, lust low in his voice. He’s kneeling between John's spread legs, halfway under the desk. With his free hand, he tugs John's trousers and boxers down to bare his thighs completely.

"We started this whole thing because you said it would be convenient. That we could have each other anytime, no strings attached." He presses his lips to John's right thigh and bites down gently, his teeth digging into John's muscle. "I want you now."

"Fuck." John breathes out, gripping the armrests. He needs to swallow the moans already pressing at his throat, the guttural, helpless noises he tends to make in Gale's bedroom, because they're one curious professor away from scandal. "Can we close the window at least?"

"Nah." Gale nuzzles his thigh again, the corner of his lips curling into a smile. "I know you'll be a good boy, John."

John throws his head back against the headrest. "I'm really not."

He feels the huff of Gale's laugh on his leg. "Yes, you are." Gale sucks on a strip of John's skin noisily until it colours pink, sensitive. His expression is pure bliss. "My good boy."

A surprised whimper escapes John's throat. "What?"

Gale freezes for a moment, as if caught, but he goes back to rubbing and kissing John's thigh a second later. "Nothing."

"I don’t know what came over you." John mumbles breathlessly, slouching in the chair to give Gale better access to his cock, to chase Gale's teasing hand. His own fingers find their way to Gale's blond hair and tug as Gale leaves a hard bite on the meat of his thigh to mirror his work on the other side.

When Gale bats his right hand away, he puts the left on Gale's head instead. Gale gives him an exasperated look, then sits back on his haunches to get away from his demanding touch. His eyes roam over John's body lazily, his fist still moving up and down.

"You didn't sit like that on purpose?"

"Hm." John hums, pushing into Gale's hand. The chair rolls back a little, so he tightens the cradle of his legs around Gale's torso to stay in place. "Like what?"

"Like you wanted your dick sucked."

John closes his eyes as a wave of heat rolls down from the top of his head to his toes. "You have an oral fixation, I swear."

"Uh-huh." Gale just hums, his entire focus on John's cock now. He strokes his left hand over the bruises he sucked into the meat of John's right thigh, then he cups John's balls.

"Ah, fuck. You don’t even deny it."

Gale looks up at him from under his lashes as he leans forward. His body warm between John's thighs, his lips glistening.

"Why deny it?" He shrugs and kisses the tip of John's cock. Closing his eyes, he runs his pink tongue up the underside of it to the head, catching the drops of moisture beading there slowly from the torturous pleasure he inflicts on John's body. When John grunts, Gale looks at him again. There’s a playful glint in his eyes. "Be a good boy now, Bucky."

John puts his right hand back on Gale's head and presses his left fist to his mouth as hot, warm suction slides down his length and pulls his pleasure right out of his soul. Shadows pass behind the opaque glass of the door opposite him, people walking down the corridor. The star charts on the walls mirror the stars he sees behind his eyes as Gale sucks him leisurely, without a care in the world. No one walks into Astrophysics at four p.m. on a Friday, right? John prays, and squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure as he thrusts into Gale's mouth.

He's gonna cancel his plans of going out and take Gale home again tonight.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #my writing #ta au #fwb au #carnevol

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keldae · 15 days

Text

Caretaking

Devi's skillset doesn't lend itself well to domesticity in Waterdeep. And Tara isn't as helpful as she thinks she is.

AO3 link

---

Devi awoke to the sound of a mighty sneeze, one that startled her out of a perfectly nice dream. She startled, her eyes flying open as she looked around her and Gale’s bedroom in his tower, trying to get her heart rate to settle back down. She could just feel the baby in her womb squirm, as though equally disturbed by the loud noise that had awoken its mother.

“Apologies,” she heard Gale’s hoarse voice beside her as the wizard sniffled, sitting up. He immediately flopped back down on his pillow with a little groan, a hand draped across his eyes. “Ugh.”

Her eyes narrowing, Devi rolled over in bed and brushed her fingers over Gale’s bearded cheek. “You sound like shit,” she pronounced. “And you feel warm.”

“I love you too,” Gale wryly croaked out, a moment before he curled in on himself in a coughing fit that made Devi’s chest ache in sympathy. When he regained his breath, he groaned again, seemingly trying to muster up the willpower to sit up again and actually make the effort to get out of bed. “How are you feeling?” he mumbled.

“Surprisingly good, for someone whose husband was snoring all night and keeping her up, even more than his child is,” Devi commented, touching her swollen belly as the baby settled down again. She sat up, frowning as she shifted to stroke her fingers through Gale’s mussed hair, feeling a feverish heat radiating from his brow. “But don’t worry about me, love. You are staying in bed today.”

Gale shook his head and frowned. “That’s not an option,” he protested. “I have lectures to give, and research to do…”

“Do I need to sit on you to make you stay in bed?”

The hand over Gale’s eyes moved, enough for the wizard to give his wife a little glare. “I am an adult, and perfectly capable of making decisions for myself–”

“And I’m your wife, who will yell for Tara to come back me up if you don’t cooperate,” Devi retorted.

Gale’s eyes narrowed. “... You wouldn’t,” he weakly protested.

Devi raised an eyebrow. “Watch me,” she answered.

She knew she won that round when Gale groaned in defeat and sank back into the pillow. “It truly isn’t that bad,” he tried to argue. “I think it’s just the sniffles, love. Hardly the thing to defeat a fully-trained wizard.”

“You’re feverish, coughing up a storm, and congested as all hells,” Devi responded, running her fingers through Gale’s hair again. She felt a little gratified when the wizard closed his eyes and sighed at the gentle motions. “Taking a day or two to rest won’t be the end of the world, darling.”

Gale harrumphed, but couldn’t argue Devi’s point – half because he’d broken into another coughing fit. He finally caught his breath and cracked his eyes open again, giving her the kicked-puppy expression that usually worked so well to weaken Devi’s resolve. “My students will be missing me,” he hoarsely protested. “There’s supposed to be an exam today…”

Devi shook her head in fond exasperation. “Tell you what – if you can cast a spell, with its intended effect happening, I won’t argue if you decide to go to the Academy today, even if I think it’s one of the dumber ideas you’ve had.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gale croaked. He eyed Devi for a moment, then raised his hand. “ Non movere .”

A handful of pitiful-looking indigo sparks was all that emerged as a result of the spell’s invocation. Devi raised her eyebrow. “Isn’t that supposed to be the Hold Person spell? Because I can still move perfectly freely, love.” She lifted her hand and waggled her fingers at Gale to demonstrate.

“ Non movere, ” Gale tried again. This time, he didn’t even get the sparks from his hand. He groaned in defeat and sagged into the pillow. “I give up. You win, darling.”

Devi offered her ill husband a little smile and leaned down to kiss his hot forehead. “Go back to sleep,” she murmured. “I’ll send a message to the Academy to say that you’re too ill to come in today.” She hesitated, still petting Gale’s hair and feeling him all but melt under her touches. “Do you want me to stay until you’re asleep again?”

Gale nodded and flailed out with his hand to find Devi’s on the bed, clinging to her fingers.

“Okay,” Devi murmured with a little smile, kissing his brow again. “I’ll wait.” She suspected that, with how ill Gale was, she wouldn’t have to wait very long. Indeed, his eyes closed again, his facial muscles relaxing as sleep crept back over him. In less than three minutes, he was snoring, dead to the world.

Shaking her head and wondering why every man she’d ever met had no self-preservation instincts pertaining to illness, Devi kissed Gale’s brow one more time, then carefully slid out of bed, making sure to not wake him up again. The message to the Academy wouldn’t send itself, after all.

---

An hour later saw Devi in the kitchen, frowning at an old recipe book of Gale’s that she had found. This had to be a favourite volume of his, from how many annotations he’d made in the margins of the book over the years and how stained the pages were. Unfortunately, while she knew Gale could translate his own handwriting easily, she had yet to master that particular skill – and these notes were faded with time and use, making them still harder to read.

Tara jumped up on the counter beside Devi, sniffing at the book. “Ahh, yes. One of Mr. Dekarios’ favourites,” she said – if Devi hadn’t known better, she would have thought the tressym sounded approving. “And vegetable soup is a good remedy for human – or half-human – illnesses.”

“He always makes it for me when I don’t feel good – that, or the pumpkin soup,” Devi confirmed. “And it makes me feel better. It can’t hurt to make some for him this time.” She eyed the book for a moment, then stepped into the pantry, fishing onions and carrots and celery out of the baskets Gale kept there. Washing and chopping the vegetables, and putting them in a pot with water, was easy enough to do. Thankful that Gale didn’t have a kitchen that required magic to use anything, like she heard that some wizards had, she set the pot over the flame to simmer. “What else is good in soup?”

Tara’s tail swished as she thought. “In the cool storage, there’s a whole chicken that you could add to the soup,” she said after a moment. “The meat will be good for him.”

Devi wrinkled her nose – chicken was one of those foods that the child in her womb had apparently decided she wouldn’t be eating much of during her pregnancy. Just the thought of the poultry made her stomach churn. But, her ill husband did need the nutrients from the meat; she nodded and turned to the cupboard that Gale had enchanted to be cooler than the rest of the tower, fetching the chicken. “Do I cook the chicken first, or add it raw to the soup?” she asked Tara.

In response, Tara looked at the cookbook, muttering curses about Gale’s handwriting under her breath. “I would think to cook it first,” she finally said. “Humans react poorly to raw poultry, and Mr. Dekarios is already ill enough.”

“Of all the days for Shadowheart to be away,” Devi sighed as she started preparing the chicken, trying to not gag at the feeling of raw meat on her hands. “Gale, it’s a damned good thing I love you,” she muttered.

“If I had thumbs, I would offer to assist you,” Tara commented, watching as Devi prepared the bird. “Don’t forget to add salt and pepper to the chicken before you cook it.”

“I’m on it,” Devi confirmed, adding the seasonings to the chicken skin before she put the bird in its own pot and set it to roast. “Do I need to add anything else to that, do you think?”

Tara tilted her head, her tail swishing again. “I don’t think so?” she said after a moment. “I have watched Mr. Dekarios cook many times, but I have never been involved in the cooking process. Tressyms don’t need their food cooked.”

“And I’ve sat and watched Gale cook enough, you’d think I’d have picked up some of what he knows,” Devi muttered. “But a chicken vegetable soup can’t be too hard, right?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Tara said. “Provided you don’t burn anything.”

---

Half an hour later, Tara’s nose twitched at the smokey, charred ruin that had once been a chicken. “Did I not say to not burn anything?”

“That’s not half as helpful as you think it is, Tara,” Devi growled, gingerly poking at the chicken. “At least it’s not raw?”

“I suppose,” Tara admitted. “Perhaps it will be salvageable after you scrape off the charring on the outside.”

“The things I do for Gale,” Devi sighed as she started scraping the charred skin away from the chicken. Her stomach roiled threateningly at the smells that assaulted her; she winced and gently touched her swollen belly. “Enough of that,” she said to her unborn child. “Your daddy is sick and needs this, and Tara can’t exactly cook!”

“I have my doubts that you can either,” Tara commented.

Devi scowled at the tressym, then pried one of the legs off the chicken’s body. “Are you fucking joking?” she asked when she saw the still-raw meat under the burnt outer layer of the bird. “I can’t feed Gale this!”

Tara jumped up onto Devi’s shoulders and peered at the chicken. “I’m a little impressed that you managed to both under-cook and burn the same chicken,” she said.

“One of the many talents I have,” Devi deadpanned. Setting the chicken leg down, she stepped over to the first pot and gave it a stir. The vegetables in the broth seemed to be unburnt, for the moment. “So perhaps Gale is getting a plain vegetable soup today without the chicken,” she said. “These, at least, are still edible.”

“I suppose that will be acceptable,” Tara said. “When Mr. Dekarios is feeling better, perhaps you should ask him for cooking lessons.”

“Not the worst idea I’ve heard,” Devi admitted. She gave the soup another stir, making sure none of the vegetables were sticking to the pot. “What other vegetables are good in soup? Maybe potatoes?”

“Potatoes would be a good addition,” Tara mused, her tail flicking from side to side. “Perhaps a courgette as well?”

Devi nodded, then went back to the pantry, returning with a couple of potatoes that she scrubbed clean. Once they were chopped, she carefully added them to the soup pot and gave it another stir before going back for a courgette. As the green vegetable was added to the pot, the former thief gave her creation a contemplative look. “Any other suggestions?”

“Perhaps give it a taste,” Tara suggested.

Turning to the silverware, Devi fetched a spoon, then dipped it into the broth and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. She frowned at the bland flavour. “Salt and pepper,” she said. “Maybe some herbs too. Herbs will help Gale feel better too, right?”

“They should,” Tara confirmed. She jumped off of Devi’s shoulders and started sniffing at Gale’s spice rack. “Ah, curse that boy. I’ve been telling him for almost thirty years that he needs jars that I can pick up and open!”

“I’ll come help you in a moment,” Devi said, picking up the salt and pepper. The pepper, freshly ground as it was, went into the soup easily enough. The salt went in a little easier. “... Ooops.”

Tara looked up. “What now?”

“I, uh, may have put a little too much salt in here?” Devi said. She took another sip of the broth and winced. “It’s… not bland anymore, at least?”

Tsking, Tara shook her head. “Come get some of the herbs, and hopefully those will balance out the salt. Open the jars first so I can smell them.”

Devi stepped over to the spice rack and picked up the first jar Tara pawed at, opening the lid. “Smells nice,” she commented as she peered at the label in Gale’s handwriting. “Basil?”

“Try adding that to the soup,” Tara said. “And this one, and this one.”

“How much?” Devi asked, and saw Tara shrug. “... That’s not helpful.”

“Mr. Dekarios never measures his herbs or spices,” Tara responded. “He says that such things should be measured with your heart.”

“My heart has never cooked a vegetable soup for a sick wizard before,” Devi retorted. She picked up the other jars that Tara had indicated and eyed them before shaking out what she thought was a good amount of each herb into the soup pot. Her next taste test only came back with more of the overly-salty flavour – she frowned, then added more of the herbs, a more generous shake from each jar.

Her next taste wasn’t ‘good’, but at least it wasn’t quite as overpoweringly salty as before.

“How is it?” Tara asked, watching Devi contemplate her spoon.

“... Not great,” Devi admitted. “A pity you don’t have human tastes – you could tell me what’s wrong with this. And I’m not waking Gale up to get his opinion when he needs sleep.”

“Perhaps it just needs more time to simmer?” Tara suggested. “My understanding is that soups take time to properly come together.”

“It can’t hurt,” Devi said after a moment. “Maybe an hour, do you think?”

Tara nodded. “I think that’s a reasonable length of time. Come, let’s see if you can at least make a cup of tea without ruining that too.”

---

An hour later, and Devi was ready to admit that cooking anything required no small amount of magic. Somehow, the vegetables in her soup had managed to burn themselves on the sides of the pot, and the ones that weren't burnt were decidedly mushy. The herbs she had added didn’t do a thing to mask the slightly-burnt flavour of the soup, and she swore the overly-salty flavour had just gotten worse with simmering.

She and Tara looked down into the pot – Devi with a frown, and Tara with her tail swishing. “I’m not sure how to salvage that, if it’s as bad as you say,” the tressym said.

“I don’t think even Gale could salvage this,” Devi sighed. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because Mr. Dekarios is ill, and you wanted to tend to him?” Tara asked.

Frustrated, Devi poked at the ruined soup with the ladle. “I'm half surprised I didn't melt the ladle on top of everything else,” she grumbled.

“That makes two of us,” Tara said. Ignoring Devi's scowl, she sat on the counter and started grooming herself. “What is your next plan?”

Devi sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I have no idea,” she muttered. “I'm almost ready to send you to Gale's mother for help with this.” Except that Devi did not want to appear helpless and incompetent in front of Morena Dekarios. Her mother-in-law seemed to like her well enough, but Devi still had a few fragments of her pride left.

Tara looked up from grooming one large wing. “I doubt even Mrs. Dekarios would be able to salvage that soup,” she commented. “Perhaps if we–”

A sneeze interrupted the tressym's thought. Gale shuffled into the kitchen, wrapping his robe around him. “What was that about my mother?” he hoarsely asked.

“You should still be in bed,” Devi murmured, abandoning the pot and its dismal soup to give Gale a gentle hug. “How do you feel?”

“Like a carriage ran over me,” Gale mumbled. He hugged Devi back, resting his cheek on her hair before he looked at the scene before him. “What's this? You were cooking?”

“‘Cooking’ might be too generous a term,” Tara commented. “The best that could be said is that she didn't burn the tower down.”

“Hey, you were no help,” Devi growled at the tressym before she looked up at Gale. “Uhh… I tried cooking. It's… almost edible?”

Gale raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Only almost? I'm sure you aren't giving yourself enough credit, darling.” Letting go of Devi, he shuffled over to the pot; Devi saw his brow furrow as he examined the attempt at soup. Picking up a spoon, he cautiously sipped the broth.

Devi winced as she saw Gale freeze, his face contorting in a grimace that he couldn't quite hide from her. “Oh, gods. I know it's awful – I'm sorry. I tried to follow your recipe, but…”

With an effort, Gale swallowed the mouthful of broth, and gave Devi a smile. “No, love, it's not that bad! It…” He looked at the pot. “It's, uh…”

“It's barely edible,” Devi groaned. “Don't feel like you have to be nice about it, Gale. I know it's terrible.”

“Nonsense! I've had worse.” Gale chuckled and set the spoon down. “Trust me, darling. I've made worse food than that, when I was first learning. I wouldn't call this a culinary masterpiece, but you meant well with this!” He came back to Devi and gently curled his finger under her chin. “It means the world to me that you tried this, even though I know you aren't as comfortable in a kitchen as I am.”

Devi smiled sheepishly at Gale and ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, you felt terrible – I wanted to do something nice for you. And you always take such good care of me when I don't feel good…” She stretched up to kiss his cheek, then eyed the pot. “... But is that even salvageable?”

Gale looked at the pot as well, then ruefully smiled. “The pot itself should be fine, but there's no magic that exists to remove too much salt, or to un-burn food.” As Devi groaned again, he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her again. “If you like, I can teach you how to make a soup properly. I know my notes in the recipe books are hard to read, but I have a few tricks I can teach you.”

“You're still ill, though,” Devi said with a little frown, stroking Gale's forehead. He still felt warm to her touch. “I can't ask you to teach me to cook when you're sick.”

“I'm not so ill that I can't sit at the table with a cup of tea and talk you through cooking, my love,” Gale assured her. “All I ask in repayment is for you to come back to bed with me afterwards for a snuggle.” He winked at her and kissed her forehead. “Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Devi smiled and stretched up to give Gale a light kiss. “That sounds good to me.”

With a little grin, Gale let go of her and sat down at the table. “Now, the first step is to dispose of your earlier attempt at soup–” He looked around, his eyes setting on the burnt chicken carcass that Devi had tried and failed to salvage anything edible from. “Oh, dear. Another attempt on your part?”

Wincing sheepishly, Devi nodded.

Gale ruefully chuckled. “All right. Throw that out too, and we'll try cooking chicken another day, darling.” He watched as Devi disposed of the ruined soup and chicken, then managed to summon the energy to magically clean the pot of its burnt mess. “The base of a good vegetable soup is onion, celery, and carrot…”

#bg3 #bg3 fic #gale x tav #tav x gale #tara the tressym #fluff #gale dekarios #gale #illness #domesticity #bad cooking #listen #Devi tried #and failed miserably #how badly can you fuck up a vegetable soup?#VERY badly if you're Devi #and Tara really isn't that helpful

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slusheeduck · 7 months

Text

Fictober 2023 Day 13 - Prompt: "Who takes care of you?" Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

It wasn’t an easy sleep Gale had dropped into, but he really couldn’t recall the last one he had. Probably before, well, everything. But fitful as his slumber was, he still wasn’t happy when it was interrupted by a paw batting his face. He grumbled, trying to ignore it. Half the time, Tara was just trying to see if he was awake; if he didn’t stir, she’d go somewhere else.

But clearly not today. Another bat came, even more solid than the first. It was finally an exasperated “Mr. Dekarios” that got him to answer.

“Tara, not now,” he said blearily, rolling over. “It’s not time for breakfast.”

“I should say it is not. This is where you’ve run off to?”

Gale opened his eyes, sitting up. He wasn’t in his tower; he was at camp, sleeping beside the fire with the others. From the look of it, they hadn’t heard Tara’s entrance. He looked back down at the tressym.

“Why are you here?” he whispered. “You promised to stay in Waterdeep. ‘Promise,’ verb, meaning to swear that something will or will not be done.”

“And I decided will not.” Tara sat down very primly in the dirt, nose up. “It’s a good thing, too. You look terrible.” She looked around appraisingly. “Have you fallen in with a bad crowd?” she whispered. “That explains that thing on your face, and…” She paused, nose twitching intently before she turned around, back immediately arching. “Oh, by the gods, you’ve even picked up a dog! I let you out of my sight for one moment and look what happens!”

Gale rubbed his face. “I’m not in with a bad crowd. I’m fine. Well, as much as I can be.” He sighed, looking back at the tressym. “It’s not safe for you to be here. Go back home, Tara.”

“The dog can be here, though?”

Gale let out an irritated huff. “The dog belongs to someone else. You belong to me, and—” Oh. Oh no. Oh no, no, he knew the mistake he made the moment the words left his mouth, but there was no time to apologize before Tara was arched up, wings out and a low growl escaping her.

“I belong to you? Oh, no, no, Gale Dekarios—if the decades I’ve been with you have taught you anything, it’s that you have that backward. Who takes care of you? Who spent the better part of a year looking for items to sate that ticking time bomb in you? Who was it that has sat by your side through hells and high water, only for you to stomp off and leave me and your mother worried sick?”

Gale tried to shush her as she railed off with her (admittedly very valid) points, but the damage was done. Astarion was the first to push himself up with a groan.

“What in the hells is that noise?” he grumbled.

“It’s the angriest meowing I’ve ever heard.” Falerin sat up, rubbing his eyes. He squinted at Gale, then glanced down at Tara. His eyes suddenly went wide, and he sat up straight. “Is that Tara?”

“Tara?” Karlach was up in a moment, already wide awake. “Tara’s here?” She looked over at the tressym, hands going to her mouth. “Oh my gods, it is Tara! That’s your sigil on her collar, Gale! Oh, aren’t you a pretty girl?”

In the wake of attention, Tara’s anger subsided, and she sat up to preen. “I see my reputation precedes me. As it should, of course.”

Gale sighed. “Yes, this is Tara. Tara, these are my…my friends.” Oh. It did feel good saying that.

“Some friends indeed, if they’re not telling you to shave,” Tara sniffed, though she wandered over toward them. Falerin held out his hand for her to sniff, and she responded by shoving her face right up against it. As he scratched beneath her chin, she purred. “I do like this one. He can stay.”

“At any rate, Tara was just leaving,” Gale said firmly, only to get a loud protest from all three around the fire.

“How can she leave now? She’s just arrived,” Karlach said between trying to pspspss her over. “And you’ve talked about her nonstop!”

Tara looked up, surprised. “You have?”

“I…may have shared one or two stories,” he said, scratching his chin. “Mostly about how you’ve massacred any pigeons that have come within a twenty-mile radius of the tower.”

“As is her right,” Astarion said. “Clearly she’s never done a single thing wrong in her life. Really, Gale, you’re being terribly unfair.”

“That one can stay, too,” Tara said, unceremoniously climbing up into Karlach’s lap—thank the gods they’d gotten that mechanic to fix her up. The tressym did look pleasantly surprised at the warmth, and she settled in comfortably; Karlach looked on the edge of tears at being chosen. “This one, too. Oh, she’s like a personal heater, how lovely.” She tucked up her wings and wrapped her tail around herself. “Perhaps you are doing quite well out here in the wilds. Even with the dog.”

Gale let out a long sigh. “Fine. You can stay the night,” he said, throwing up a hand. “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

“Yes, over a decent breakfast. I can tell you haven’t had one since you left home,” Tara said, eyes squinting as Karlach delicately scratched at her ears. “I do hope one of your friends knows Speak with Animals. I’d like to hear a much less biased account of what you’ve been up to while off and about—and give some proper instructions on how to care for you. I can’t have people thinking you’re a stray, Mr. Dekarios.”

Fictober 2023 Drabble Master Post

#fictober23 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tara the tressym #gale of waterdeep #This is my one bit of canon correction #You mean to tell me that Gale 'Stoplickingthedamnthing' Dekarios #cat dad of the year #isn't constantly talking about his cat to everyone in earshot #And even more unrealistically that the entire party isn't losing their shit when they meet her??#I don't believe it #Also Astarion disapproves if you tell Tara to stop eating pigeons and I think that's very sexy of him

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 2 months

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„That‘s not supposed to bend like that“ for Gale/ Astarion pls :)) 🫶

Wow, this felt like I haven't written in months (which is true, especially for anything whump) and like I have unlearned how to do this. But it's a good exercise, thank you ❤️ The whump meme, my humble offering under the cut. More Bloodweave here :)

......

"That‘s not supposed to bend like that."

There's undoubtedly astonishment in Gale's voice, some concern too; but above all, and most annoyingly, curiosity. Naturally. Astarion emits an exasperated noise.

"You would probably still find it interesting if my bone stuck out to wave at you," he returns sullenly.

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Gale! Focus, darling. This is a cleric’s job. Preferably soon."

Even Gale, who can hardly take his eyes off Astarion's unusually crooked arm, can't help noticing that the vampire spawn doesn't exactly look pleased. The wizard has spent many thoughts wondering what advantages Astarion actually has from his transformation. Since he is constantly complaining, there can't be many. He may be undead, but that spares him neither hunger nor pain.

"The bone must be broken," says Gale.

"Of course it is," Astarion replies, drawing out "of course" particularly long, rolling his eyes. "Gods, you suck at survival skills. And you’re definitely not a cleric."

Gale lifts his brows. The only thing missing is Astarion waving a graceful hand and telling him to look for a healer. As if that wasn't what they've been doing for days, albeit for a very different reason. In his sad collection of despairs, whom he only calls "adventurers" in his most optimistic thoughts, there is actually a cleric. However, she is out collecting medicinal plants, possibly to replenish their meagre supply of healing potions later. Healing potions, all of which are currently in Shadowheart's pockets. Gale has none, and he has no idea what to do.

"At least we can say for sure that you won't die from it, right?"

His fake laughter dies away at Astarion's stare. The waves of guilt washing through Gale do not break. After all, it had been his idea to explore the old ruins. His idea to open the lid of an extraordinarily elaborately decorated tomb. Instead of pleasant burial objects such as gold, there had only been an angry and suddenly very lively corpse inside. In the end, they could be glad that this undead had only broken Astarion's arm and not his neck. They had escaped from this disgraceful adventure with a lot of luck and many bruises, but now…

"At least do some magic," Astarion grumbles, crouching on the ground of a semi-safe-looking hollow.

"I'm honored that you obviously have a lot of faith in me, but you might have the wrong idea about the weave’s power if you think I can straighten arms with it."

Astarion throws his arms in the air. That is, he tries this gesture of despair, but forgets about his broken arm. Swearing, screaming, and a lot of moaning occurs. It's hard to say how much of it is real suffering. It looks real, his face is contorted in pain, but Astarion is a natural actor. In any case, it works, Gale immediately feels even guiltier. No healing potions, no cleric, and all his wisdom useless because he never gave a single thought to studying a healing spell. A fine leader he is.

"I'm afraid we'll have to fall back on conventional methods until we get back to camp," he explains regretfully.

"Conventional?" Astarion wrinkles his nose. "Namely which ones?"

"Well," Gale returns hesitantly, pensively tugging at his stubbly chin, "some kind of splint, I would say. With a branch, perhaps. And a noose. That should do the trick until we meet Shadowheart again."

"A branch?" Astarion makes a face as if the wizard had suggested he take a mud bath in his best shirt.

Above all, Gale recognizes, he looks like someone who has quickly become accustomed to the convenience of instant healing. Gale doesn't know much about the vampire spawn yet, but he has noticed some details already. There’s the way he sets up camp: exemplary on the outside, total chaos on the inside. The way he meets kindness with mistrust, and only adopts a nice tone when he thinks it will benefit him. The haunted glance. The scars. He doesn't tell much about the life he was torn from, but it can't have been a very good one. At the end of the day, he's just a spawn. That means there must be a master. And one thing is clear, Astarion hates pain like everyone else, but he is no stranger to it.

"We're two hours away from camp," says Gale. "If we want to make it until nightfall, we have to leave soon. I'm sure you won't want to walk for two hours with your arm in this condition."

He points to the almost grotesquely twisted arm with a nod of his head. Astarion's gaze follows his, and he sighs.

"Fine, then."

Gale claps his hands enthusiastically, exclaiming a cheerful "There you go", then he jumps up and immediately starts looking for a suitable twig. Neither of them are necessarily well equipped, be it to build a splint or even a noose. It's a strange life at the moment, with this ticking time bomb in their heads and the cultists breathing down their necks. They often resort to methods that Gale would have rejected as immoral in his previous life. Now he’s not sure whether he can ever go back to this life. Everything is unsure, and everyone has secrets, even Gale. He will soon have to confide his to someone. Surprisingly, Astarion doesn't seem the worst choice, even if he doesn't yet understand why he feels that way. But not today, not now. Now he has to splint an arm, and he has to look confident, not like a man who had a single lecture in naturopathy at university and dismissed it as useless.

Astarion appears somewhat nervous as Gale approaches with the branch he has carefully trimmed with a knife. Perhaps the stick reminds the vampire too much of a stake. However, this procedure, which even Gale finds almost barbaric in view of the efficient use of healing spells demonstrated by Shadowheart, is painful in any case.

"I'll be careful," he promises, but Astarion lets out a hoarse laugh. A strange sound, he’s usually so melodic in everything he utters.

"I'm not a virgin," he says.

"I'm sorry about that," Gale replies seriously, because it's clear what Astarion means, and it's quite sad to think about what getting used to pain implies. Only later does he realize the ambiguity of the spawn’s words, long after Astarion looks at him open-mouthed, at a loss for words for the first time. And much, much later, he realizes that Astarion hasn't experienced any real kindness, any real affection for a very long time.

Pain, however, is a constant, and it can be a connection. Gale touches Astarion with a delicate grip, as if he is holding something fragile in his hands; and somehow this slender, pale arm is very delicate indeed.

"I broke my arm when I was seven," he explains in a conversational tone.

"Really, Gale Dekarios fell off a tree? Hard to believe."

The mockery in Astarion's voice has no edge, and Gale is too good-natured to take offense anyway. Or too soft.

"Not a tree. It's a less than glorious story... I practiced a spell from a book that was far beyond my abilities at the time. The spell backfired, and the force shattered my elbow like this."

He snaps his fingers and grins wryly. It's not easy taking care of Astarion's arm with a bunch of cloth (Gale's shirt, Astarion protested loudly when the wizard asked for his garment) and a branch, and it's clearly no fun for the spawn. Quickly, he goes on.

"My mother summoned the best healer in all of Waterdeep in no time at all, and in addition to her justified reproaches, I had to consume foul-tasting potions for a week, to strengthen the repaired bone."

"For a whole week? My dear, you've let yourself be ripped off."

There's something strangely comforting in Astarion's mischievous gaze.

"Done," says Gale, and Astarion looks at his arm in amazement.

Something is working in him, it's clear, his astonishment is genuine. His words, on the other hand, are as dry as ever, he quickly catches on.

"Well, it still hurts," he says and struggles to get to his feet.

"My apologies."

"No need, you can easily make up for it. Someone has to carry my stuff, right?"

"As long as you keep the true nature of our adventure a secret from our esteemed cleric."

Astarion tilts his head. "You're bargaining? Interesting. But I will have to provide some kind of explanation, won't I?"

"You'll think of something. But don't forget to mention the good care, provided by the humble wizard."

Despite the cheerful words, Astarion looks at Gale for quite a while, almost as if he wants to look behind his forehead. There is at least the tadpole, and its abilities are still uncanny to both of them.

"I'll think about it," he says slowly. "It could have been worse. Just don't assume, that I will go on another mission like this with you alone, Gale of Waterdeep."

"We'll see," Gale replies, and this once, Astarion doesn't argue.

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #Gale/Astarion #Baldur's Gate 3 #whump #whump fics #Astarion/Gale #bloodweave #gale x astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x gale #astarion whump #galestarion

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halsinsbiceps · 7 months

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A Great and Sudden Change - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 of AGaSC is up on AO3!

I have a request: please comment or shoot me a message if you don't think Astarion's "outburst" in this chapter fits his character. I'm not necessarily sticking to canon, but I want to be faithful to the characters. If people feel like it works, then I won't worry about a rewrite.

Thank you for reading!

Fic below the cut.

A Great and Sudden Change

Chapter 5

"Is that all you’re wearing?”

Enelya looked up from the clasps of her travel robe to find Astarion eyeing her up and down. She held her arms out and inspected herself in the gray pre-dawn light. “Yes? It’s all I’ve got; everything else was lost on that damned thing.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the Illithid ship. Including my new bag of Holding, she thought irritably.

“Darling, we’re all but traipsing into the midst of a goblin horde, and you don’t have a single bit of armor?”

“I don't see you fretting over Gale,” she commented. She slung her quarterstaff over her shoulder and tightened the strap at her chest.

“He’s a wizard. He fights at a distance and has plenty of wards and cantrips to protect himself. What do you have, outside of a frigid glare?” He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.

“...I have Barkskin."

Astarion sighed and grabbed her arm. “Come on,” he said as he led her deeper into the ruins. “There was a smith somewhere around here. Surely he has a cuirass or jerkin, something to keep that soft little body of yours safe.”

Enelya scowled. “I’m hardly little , or soft, and I can handle myself even without armor.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I also do doubt any of these goblins will let you waltz up to them and twist their arms out of their sockets like you did to Lae’zel.” Astarion began opening and peering into crates.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. She glanced at the sleeping forms across the room.

Astarion gave her a look that read, My dear, isn't it obvious?

“We are not stealing armor from them!”

“Do you have any gold jingling around in one of your many pockets?” he asked with a quirked brow. He lifted a jerkin by the shoulders, tilted his head in thought, then discarded it. “Consider it borrowing against your credit.”

“What credit?”

“The credit for saving their skins from a group of murderous druids.” He pulled out a set of simple leathers, regarded them a moment, then held them out to her. “Here. These seem to be about your size.” When she didn’t move to take them, he rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're more stubborn than a rothé."

"And you're clucking over me like a mother hen. I mean no offense, but you don't seem to be the kind of person to care about others." She crossed her arms. "What's going on?"

Astarion shifted his feet, not quite meeting her eyes. He suddenly seemed uncertain, a far cry from his normally arrogant self. Finally, he rolled his eyes and made a noise that was somewhere between exasperation and disgust.

“I actually take great offense at that," he said. "I care quite a lot, if you must know, and not just about my own self-preservation. For whatever reason, you’ve become the leader of this little group. Impressive though your skills may be, that doesn't mean you need to forgo protection, or be some sort of martyr. And if you insist on endearing yourself to every marginalized group we come across, you’ll need to survive long enough to see yourself become a folk hero.” His eyes - an unusually dark red, she noticed - bore into hers. “You’re important ." He held the armor out again.

This time Enelya took it from him. “Thank you," she said quietly.

As she changed, she considered Astarion's words. Was she truly putting herself in danger needlessly, carelessly even? She didn't believe so; she was simply doing what she could to help others...right? A lack of armor certainly didn't mean she was trying to be a martyr; her own had been in her bag of Holding, and she hadn't truly needed it in weeks. As for her importance…she tightened the final strap of the leather breastplate and shoved her thoughts to the back of her mind to be dealt with later.

She knew better than to believe she was any more important than anyone else.

The armor fit well enough; a bit tight around the shoulders and hips, but she could handle the discomfort for the additional safety. Astarion nodded approvingly when she stepped out from behind the crumbling wall that served as a privacy screen, a leather hood clutched in her hand.

“Much better. Now, before we go…I would appreciate it if we can keep my little outburst between us. We wouldn't want the others to get the wrong idea about me, would we?" He looked at her expectantly, a cool mask settled back onto his fine marblelike features.

She bowed her head. "Of course, Astarion."

"I'm glad we understand each other. Shall we?” He gestured to where the others had gathered to make final preparations.

They departed as the first golden rays pierced the skies overhead. A fine mist hung through the undergrowth of the forest and swirled around their ankles as they walked. Enelya gripped her staff and shifted her shoulders, the leather creaking as it warmed and stretched to fit her frame.

“They’ll be alright.”

Enelya glanced to her right to find Wyll walking beside her. “Who?”

“The tieflings. I saw you look back as we left. We stand between them and the goblins, and the druids will leave them be. They're as safe as they can be for now. You chose a good spot for them.”

“I hope you're right. The grove would have been better,” Enelya said with a soft sigh. “I probably made things worse for them, truth be told. But thank you for saying so.”

“You're welcome.”

A pleasant lull followed. When Wyll did not drop away from her, she cleared her throat to speak.

“About that devil. The one you were chasing in Avernus…”

He bowed his head. “Karlach."

"Sorry?"

"That's her name. A powerful devil from the Hells. She's a danger to the entire Sword Coast." Wyll's face was grim. "I have to bring her down."

"Why, exactly? Is it so important that you have to keep hunting her?"

“I suppose in the grand scheme of things, Karlach doesn’t seem like much of a problem. But she’s been terrorizing innocent people and leaving bodies in her wake for the better part of a decade. My…source said she was planning to return to Faerun, and I was supposed to kill her before she could.” Wyll shook his head. “You see how well that’s gone.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, if she’s as dangerous as you say…we should take her down.”

“‘We’, huh?” Wyll chuckled. “You really are a bit of a bleeding heart, aren’t you?”

Enelya felt herself bristle at the comment. “And if I am?”

He shrugged. “That makes two of us. Couldn't walk away from someone in need if my life depended on it. Kindred spirits, you and I."

She blinked, put off by the comment. "I was raised to help where I can. My parents, my Circle, my church all expected it. You must have been raised in such a way as well."

Wyll raised a fist to his chest, a proud smile on his face. "Baldur's Gate, born and raised. Been a while since I've been home…" he trailed off wistfully, then seemed to shake it off. "If you don’t mind me asking, where do you hail from?”

“The High Forest, in Northwest Faerun,” she replied. “I am a druid of the Circle of Tall Trees there.”

“Ah. That explains why there is such an otherworldly air about you.”

Enelya quirked an eyebrow. “'Otherworldly'? Was that your line for Shadowheart as well?”

She heard him take a surprised breath, but to his credit he bounced right back with his own quip.

“Actually I told her her eyes were as green as emeralds glistening in the sun. She didn’t seem to mind the compliment," Wyll replied in a good-natured tone.

Enelya smiled as well, then. “That’s not bad. A bit cliche, but I’ve heard worse.”

“You've been flirted with a lot, I take it?”

“Mmm…when you’ve lived for nearly 300 years you do.”

“300? You don’t look a day over 130.”

“Oh, very good!" She laughed. "What else have you got?"

"Plenty where that came from, I assure you…but a gentleman can't give away all his secrets."

"Then perhaps a gentleman should not speak." Lae'zel suggested as she overtook Wyll in clanking strides. Her withering glance did indeed shut Wyll up, but he turned to wink at Enelya before dropping back to walk with Gale.

They walked for some while in relatively comfortable silence. Wyll and Gale spoke quietly about their respective powers; Gale made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that wizardry was infinitely superior to other forms of magic casting. The warlock bore the criticism with a patient smile, even if it didn't quite meet his eyes.

Enelya gathered her hair into her hands and began plaiting it out of her face as the sun rose higher into the pale sky. The reverie of walking afforded her precious time to focus on her own thoughts, something she'd barely had since her abduction. The issue of these parasites dominated her concern at the moment. If the one in her head and the one Halsin and Nettie encountered originated from the same place - and how could they not - then she and her companions were still living on borrowed time. More than they had originally believed, but borrowed nonetheless. With any luck Halsin would have discovered something to help them, but luck was in short supply these days.

Which led her to the next concern on her list…the closer they crept to the goblin camp, the tighter the knot in her stomach twisted. She breathed deep, willing herself to focus on the task at hand, yet she could not keep her mind from conjuring scenarios of what it might be like to meet Halsin again. Would he be pleased to see her? Would he even remember her, or care? They barely knew each other, after all.

And yet…they had spent the better part of two days in her rooms in the High Forest, their bodies so intertwined that at times Enelya couldn't tell where hers ended and his began. She could practically feel his large, calloused hands sliding up along her back as he nipped and suckled at her throat, guiding her hips while she-

Her thoughts were interrupted by her hair prickling up on the back of her neck.

Enelya slowed to a halt, noticing they stood on a stone bridge. She tried to focus her hearing on something - anything - but there was only eerie silence except for the rushing of water beneath them.

“I feel it too.” Astarion stepped up beside her, a small crease forming between his brows. “Death.”

"There." Gale pointed across the bridge.

Several bodies of varying sizes lay at the end of the bridge. A man sat slouched on top of a crate nearby, staring down at them. As they approached he looked up from beneath a pile of brown curls.

“Aradin?” Gale sounded surprised. “What happened here?”

“Well, if it isn’t the foul blood lovers.” The man scoffed. “Damn gobbos ambushed us. Wiped out whoever didn’t get killed at the keep. 'cept me.” He nudged one of the bodies with his foot.

Enelya took in the carnage. Several goblins and a few adventurers lay dead. “You were the ones with Master Halsin.”

Aradin rolled his eyes. “Gods, if I hear that name one more time…Yes. He run off and got himself killed, and we got nothing to show for it 'cept this scrap of paper." He waved it around in his hand. "Gold's not much use when you're dead, is it."

"What were you trying to find?"

"Some hot-shot wizard in Baldur’s Gate hired us to find this Nightsong. Dunno what it is or what it does, but he'll pay through the nose for it. Couldn't get in when we was with the druid, couldn't get in now. And now I’m headed back alone." Aradin sniffed as he ran a thumb under his nose and hopped off the crate.

Enelya moved forward, hand raised to stop him. "Can I see that missive?" she asked.

Aradin all but flung it at her; it fluttered lazily to the bloodied earth. "Have at it." With that he walked away without a second glance.

Enelya bent to pick up the paper, now damp with blood at the seam. "Pleasant fellow," she said drily. "I thought he stuck around after they got back?"

"Oh, no. Zevlor gave him a blow about the ears and they ran off as soon as he could see straight." Gale’s words were tinged with sadness. "He's not much more than a kid, really. I hope he makes it home."

Enelya hummed noncommittally as she squinted down at the paper in her hand. "Lorr-oak-an? Does that name ring a bell, Gale?"

He took the missive from her and scanned it with a frown. "'The Recluse of Ramazith's Tower'…yes, I've heard of him. Mostly that he's a bit of an ass, but that’s no surprise. Most wizards are not as humble as myself."

Over Gale's shoulder Enelya noticed Astarion and Shadowheart exchange a wry glance, while Wyll hid a smirk behind his hand as he pretended to yawn.

"I've never heard of this Nightsong, however," Gale went on. "Surely you cannot call something a "storied artefact" when no one has heard of it."

“No one, in this case, being you,” Astarion said with a smirk.

While Gale floundered to produce a comeback to his jab, Astarion continued. "Even so, we have a lead on a bit of treasure someone will pay handsomely for," he said. "Once we figure out this tadpole nonsense, maybe we can all work together to find it and split the reward, hmm?"

Shadowheart snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. As Aradin said, gold is no use if we’re dead. We should press on.” She strode ahead.

“Shadowheart is right, much as it irks me to say it,” Lae’zel said as they followed the cleric. “I am eager to rid myself of this ghaik parasite. I have my doubts about this druid’s abilities, however. The only true way to cleanse ourselves is to use a zaith’isk .”

“Now, pray tell, what is a zaith’isk ?” Gale asked, his retort seemingly forgotten. They passed into a deserted town as Lae’zel explained the healing instrument used by the Githyanki. Shadowheart stopped walking suddenly, her eyes focused overhead. Enelya stopped as well and followed her gaze to find a goblin peering down at them from the rooftop of a nearby building. She slowly slid one hand behind her back to grip her quarterstaff.

“Looks like we’ve got some company, boys!” the goblin called. A handful more goblins popped out of the windows and doors of the building. Enelya could see five in front of them, and if the shuffling behind them was any indication, there were at least three more flanking them. Lae’zel and the rest of the group had fallen silent, readying themselves for a fight.

“What’s yer business?” the goblin called down. As they spoke, a strange symbol over their left eye began to glow. At the same time, Enelya felt a surge of confidence flow through her, striking down any feeling of uncertainty. She felt powerful. Authoritative. The tadpole squirmed in her head, and she felt her body relax significantly of its own accord. Curious, she leaned into the feeling. An unseen force seemed to take control of her as she stared the goblin down.

“We need not explain ourselves to the likes of you.” Her voice rang out boldly with words that were not her own. “You will let us pass.”

The goblin immediately cowered before her authority. “I-I’m sorry, True Souls!” they exclaimed, their eyes wide and fearful behind their helm. “Please, make your way in peace. You will find our leaders at the ruined temple, just that way.” They pointed west, through town.

Enelya led the way, not sparing the goblins another glance. The authoritative sensation waned, and as they reached the center of town, Shadowheart grabbed her elbow.

“What was that?” she asked. The worry in her eyes was evident.“That… power . Did you feel it?”

“I’m not sure,” Enelya admitted. “It definitely came from the tadpoles, though. I let it direct me, and they just bowed down.”

A sudden, sharp pain pierced her brain, as if someone had stabbed her in the temple with a white-hot ice pick. She gasped and clutched at her head. Shadowheart reached out to steady her.

“What’s wrong?”

The pain lingered as Enelya straightened, blinking away the shadows at the edge of her vision. “I…I think it bit me.”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrowed. “We must be careful,” she said softly. She extended a hand and cast a healing spell. The pain in Enelya’s head dissipated. “Whatever this thing is capable of, it comes at a cost. It could be speeding up the ceremorphosis.”

“She’s right,” Gale said, a troubled look on his own face. “We should avoid using this power until we know more, at the very least.”

"That's not our only problem," Wyll said. He had drawn his weapon and was turned to face the north, leading away from the path the goblin indicated. "Karlach is here. I can sense her, that way.” He pointed with his rapier. “We need to kill her before she can wreak any more havoc."

Enelya shared an uncertain look with Shadowheart, then eyed the sky. It was still quite early; they'd made good time. Surely a quick detour to dispatch an Infernal threat wouldn't take long. She gave a quick nod, and Wyll's face lit up as an almost giddy grin spread over his face.

"Excellent! Follow me, and be careful."

Astarion muttered under his breath, but followed the group.

They made their way out of town through a large oak door that was hanging off its hinges. Wyll stopped for a moment, taking in his surroundings. Suddenly he turned and focused his gaze on a barn not far from them. He gestured for the others to follow as he began to slowly approach the building.

As they neared the building they each drew their weapons and fanned out. Wyll continued to take the lead, creeping closer to the door so he could open it. Enelya could hear movement inside from where she stood near a window, and hazarded a peek inside just as Wyll reached the entrance.

What she saw gave her pause.

A large Tiefling sat in the middle of the barn, curled into a ball with her knees pressed to her chest as she breathed heavily. She was wreathed in flame. A low, anguished moan escaped her as she threw her head back. Enelya saw one horn was broken off; the other curled back and away from her face.

Wyll kicked the door open with a bang .

Karlach hardly reacted, only shooting him a pained look. "Fuck me," she said with a shaky laugh. "You found me, then.

" Advocatus diaboli, " Wyll said as he stepped into the barn. He held his rapier steadily in front of him. "Now you meet your end."

Karlach opened her mouth to quip back at him, but instead grit her teeth as flame flickered anew around her body.

Enelya slipped around the corner of the building and entered the barn herself.

"Wyll, wait. This is no devil."

Wyll spared a glance in her direction. "You see what I see, Enelya. Look at the flames. This devil was in the front lines in Avernus. She's Zariel's right arm! I must take her down."

Suddenly Enelya was knocked back as her senses were assaulted by a connection to her tadpole. She could see the planes of Avernus stretched out in front of her. A war axe swung wildly as she fought, her eyes scanning the red skies. Sweat poured from every pore, steaming into her eyes and down her neck and back. In her chest, her heart ground out a mechanical beat.

A flash of light, and above her was a ship, all writhing tentacles and smoke pluming from its sides. She didn't think, just reacted; sprinting towards the craggy cliffs of brimstone, the Blade of Frontiers not far behind. A single thought rang in her mind over and over.

My way out .

The connection snapped.

"I'm not a devil," Karlach whispered hoarsely. She struggled to her feet, clutching at her chest. "I was sold, sent like a horse to slaughter, and forced to fight." Another wave of flame flashed over her. She grimaced. "But go ahead. Kill me. I'd rather die than go back to Avernus."

"Good news for you, then." Wyll flourished his blade and stepped forward.

Enelya stepped in front of him, locking eyes with him.

"Wyll."

He glared at her. "Enelya, move."

"You know this is wrong."

"And you don't know what you're asking me to do. Please," he whispered. His voice was strained as he searched her face imploringly. "My source…my contract is unforgiving. I must do this."

She shook her head. "She's innocent. A victim of the Blood War. Can't you feel that? You saw her memories. She's infected. And…she’s a tiefling, Wyll. Not a devil."

Wyll looked past her, at Karlach, who had gone quiet and still. Hesitation and fear were written plainly on his face. Enelya reached a hand out and pressed her palm flat against his blade, slowly lowering it.

Wyll finally withdrew his weapon, only to fling it to the floor and toss his hands in the air. " Shit! " He spun, kicking a bucket across the room and running his palms over his braided rows of hair. Then, without another word, he stormed out of the barn.

Enelya released a shaky breath and bent to pick up Wyll's rapier. Then she turned to Karlach. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

Karlach nodded. "Yeah. Pretty bad, too…" She lifted her hand to reveal a gaping wound in her side. Blood trickled freely down her hip. "Not exactly helping my ticker," she said with a short laugh.

Enelya frowned, unsure of what she meant. Either way, she needed a healer. She moved to the door. "Shadowheart?" she called.

"I'm here." The cleric appeared in the doorway. "What do you need?" Then, seeing Karlach and her bloodied body, she moved to her side, hands aglow.

"Wait!"

Karlach's warning came too late as Shadowheart laid her hand over her wound. There was a sizzling sound, and Shadowheart screamed as she pulled her hands back, reeling away from Karlach with red, blistering palms.

"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry!" Karlach's eyes were wide with horror. "I'm burning too hot, I didn't mean for-"

"It's alright. Te curo ." Shadowheart’s hands were bathed in a soft blue glow. She held them up to show Karlach, her skin healed and smooth. "See? All better."

Karlach let out a relieved sigh. "Still, I'm sorry. Something's up with this thing; it's been acting up since I got out of Avernus." She pounded on her chest. There was a metallic thump and a strange grinding sound. "Doesn't help I've been run through, though. It's working overtime. Do you have a potion or something?"

Shadowheart murmured again, casting her hands in Karlach's direction. The tiefling sighed happily as the healing spell washed over her, watching with interest as the hole in her side stitched together gently. The flames surrounding her ebbed until none remained. A distortion still rippled the air around her body, but Karlach’s shoulders relaxed away from her ears as the grinding noise stopped.

"Thanks. That's a lot better. Still hot, but I'll take it."

Gale, Lae'zel, and Astarion came into the building. "All well in here?" Gale asked, glancing between them.

Enelya nodded. "Yes. For now at least. Where's Wyll?"

"Gazing despondently into a chasm, at the moment," Astarion said. "I feel the same way. This was horribly anticlimactic; I'd hoped we'd finally kill something. " He eyed Karlach up and down. "So this is our newest charity case, Enelya? You're certainly gathering all the strays you can find."

Enelya ignored his comment and turned back to Karlach. "You look like you can handle yourself. Want to come kill a bunch of cultists?"

Karlach stared at her, a bewildered expression. "What, just like that? I mean… fuck yes, but…you know nothing about me. What if I'm actually a devil in disguise and I slaughter you all once your backs are turned?" She waved her hands around her head and widened her eyes dramatically.

Enelya's eyebrow arched with amusement. "Are you?"

"Nope!" Karlach grinned.

"Well then, that's settled." She turned to the others. "Make sure she's got what she needs. I'm going to go get Wyll, then we're heading out. No more delays."

Gale gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

Enelya paused briefly to stare at him. "Please don't do that again."

He nodded sheepishly and lowered his hand.

She turned on her heel and left the barn, scanning her surroundings as she went.

She found Wyll at the edge of town, indeed staring down into the abyss at the churning river below. She quietly came to stand beside him.

"The call of the void?" she asked. He looked up at her

"Somewhat. If I throw myself off this cliff it might prove to be a better end than what I have coming."

"Care to tell me more about this deal? The contract?"

"...I can’t, I’m afraid. I'm sure all will be revealed soon enough, though. Don’t worry."

"Alright. Well, until that end…" She held out his rapier.

He reached out and took it from her. Before he could pull away, she laid a hand on his.

"While you draw breath, you have purpose." She caught his gaze and held it, squeezing his hand meaningfully. "The Blade of Frontiers has a lot of saving left to do. And besides…do you really trust the fate of the Sword Coast to those ruffians?" She nodded her head back towards the barn, her eyes glittering with mirth.

He smirked back at her. "Gods, no. Thank you, Enelya." He considered her for a moment. "This…isn't your first time leading, is it?"

She hesitated before releasing his hand. "No," she replied. She paused again, unsure of what else to say. The truth certainly wouldn't do; not as they were staring down a keep full of goblin cultists. She needed them to have faith in her. So she kept it at that, offering him a tight-lipped smile of her own.

"Ah. Well, keep your secrets then," he teased. "Gods know we all have enough to go around."

They met the others at the barn, then took to the path once again. They went back through town and across another bridge, ignoring the jeers and curious looks from the goblins stumbling around. By the time they reached the main gate of the defiled temple, Enelya was feeling beyond anxious. There were goblins everywhere, and their group of seven wasn't exactly inconspicuous as they tramped along through the mud.

"Hold up!" Yet another group of them guarded the gate, flanked on either side by worgs. Their leader stepped forward, his green-yellow face a smashed mess of features. He peered up at her. "Can't just wander in here. We're celebrating a raid. Gotta wear our war colors,"

The same mark from earlier glowed on their faces, and with it, that same overwhelming feeling of confidence. Enelya eyed the group - six goblins spread out along the wall, and two worgs. They could take them easily…

She hoped.

"What color would that be?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He pointed at a fresh pile of worg dung with a smug smile. "That right there. Perfect shade."

Enelya glared at the goblin. "You can't be serious."

He smirked. "You wanna get in? Gotta get dressed up."

Enelya hesitated, then stooped to scoop up the warm dung with her fingers. She heard several groans from the group behind her.

"Can't help noticing you're not wearing any yourself," she commented.

"Don't have to if you was part of the raid. Now." He gestured to her face, an excited smile splitting his own. "On ya get."

She hefted the dung in her palm for a moment, considering its weight. The stench alone was enough to make her stomach turn and her eyes sting.

Perfect .

She focused on the tadpole; it wriggled as it effortlessly linked to her companions'.

Get ready .

With a flick of her wrist, she flung the dung into the eyes of the goblins. At the same time, she swung her staff off her back and through the air, connecting with the leader's head with a sickening crunch . He collapsed into the mud without so much as a whimper.

Astarion rushed past, daggers glinting in the sunlight. " Finally !" He slit a goblin's throat as he passed, making his way to the platforms surrounding the wall.

The quiet morning erupted into chaos.

The air sang in Enelya's ear as Karlach brought her greataxe down into a worg's head. Gray chunks of brain splattered into the air. Then Karlach pulled her axe free and swung again, this time taking another goblin's head clean off.

A shout came from behind her. Before she could even turn, three Magic Missiles and an Eldritch Blast shot past her and practically eviscerated the other worg as it lunged at her. Gale and Wyll both let out whoops of victory.

And just like that, the fight was over. Enelya heard a gurgling death rattle as Lae'zel pulled her sword free from a goblin overhead. Shadowheart was making sure everyone was alright, but the only injury was her own twisted knee from slipping in the mud.

"Right." Enelya wiped gory bits of bone and brain off her quarterstaff with a worg's fur. "That went well."

"Definitely," Astarion drawled. His eyes were alight with excitement. Enelya had a sneaking suspicion that he was a bit bloodthirsty.

"Are we all good?" she asked. She pulled her leather hood free from her belt. "We should keep moving if we can. Shadowheart, is your knee alright?"

"It's fine," Shadowheart replied breezily. "Not even worth using a spell for."

Enelya nodded, then twisted her braid into a knot and dropped the hood over her hair. "Let's go."

Through the gate and around the wall they went, their weapons sheathed but eyes peeled for trouble. Ahead of them the temple loomed. They could hear the driving beat of a goblin drum from within.

Enelya wondered, as they began to cross the final, broken bridge to their goal, why this seemed so easy.

Then the world went black.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #halsin #bg3 halsin #baldur's gate iii #halsin x tav #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #halsin x enelya #enelya #a great and sudden change

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thedragonagelesbian · 1 year

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A Lesson in Drowning with Prophet Delilah Dubois

Adelaide first saw the headlights. The rain scattered their light, diffusing the fluorescent brightness into a hazy glare that consumed the whole world. She was standing square in the middle of the road, but she did not wince as the car beared down on her. She was too busy wondering what it would be like for it to consume her too. Would she also disappear into the white noise? Or would it be more like a classical devouring, replete with metal tongue and a cavernous chrome stomach?

She stood her ground.

Then, the jeep swerved. It missed her by inches, sent a shower of muddy water up her stockings, and rattled to a stop some yards away.

Adelaide’s next instinct was to run. She could sprint between the well-manicured lawns to her right or scale the nearest fence to her left and take her chances with Warwick Lord’s German shepherd howling something pathetic in his yard. But she had barely taken one step toward her escape when the driver’s door swung open. A tall, slender figure stepped out, features obscured in the storm.

Still, she knew who it was.

“Adelaide Lenora Dellouise, just what do you think you’re doing out here?”

The full name did make her flinch, but Adelaide squared her shoulders and set her jaw, trying to hold herself taut enough that she couldn’t shiver.

“Walkin!”

As he came around the back of the car, Adelaide caught a glimpse of her father’s dour expression in the red sheen of the tail lights, all furrows from his sandy hairline to the bridge of his nose.

“In the middle of a shelter-in-place advisory? Without so much as a raincoat on?”

For all his exasperation, Wyatt Dellouise didn’t have to strain to be heard over the sound of the raging storm. Then again, he had his deacon voice on. This wasn’t the soft muttering of a man who seemed perpetually ashamed to be alive for risk of deriving some pleasure from the whole ordeal, but rather the preacher’s booming, fit for a pulpit and louder than thunder.

Adelaide responded with a shrug. As much as she tried to hide it, though, she couldn’t ignore how cold and damp she was now that she had stopped moving. The wind ripped through the thin, soaked fabric of her sundress, and she had so much water in her shoes her toes squelched with every slight shift of her body. A moment later, her teeth began to chatter, and they wouldn’t stop knocking against each other no matter how hard she pressed her lips together.

Her father folded his arms and moved between her and the trunk of the car. Shadow eclipsed his face again, and all Adelaide could make out through the sheets of rain was his hazy red silhouette.

“Are you fixing to get pneumonia?”

“I was thinking I’d let the storm wash me out to sea, actually!”

The silence that followed delighted Adelaide so much she almost didn’t care how true her words were or how deep they hurt her. She’d swallow a knife and let it rend her from the inside out if it meant he knew it was his fault she was bleeding.

“Quit this foolishness,” her father said at last, sighing like a tempest gale. “Just come with me, Addie, please. We’ll go shelter together in the church.”

“Just drop me off at home!”

“Get in the car!”

And that was that, as Adelaide knew it would be since the moment the jeep rolled up, an outcome equal measures inevitable and terrifying. Who, after all, could ignore a direct order from Deacon Wyatt Dellouise? The voice of the First Church of Her Will spoke. You listened. That was the way the world worked, as immutable as any law of physics. Adelaide couldn’t fight that, no matter how hard she had tried over the last two years. For as many days as she had spent steeling herself against her father’s influence, in that instant she withered under his ironclad certainty like she was still seven years old and arguing about her bedtime. She could not help but be compelled.

She took a few teetering steps toward the jeep as an arc of lightning split the sky above them. In the crack of white, she saw her father’s face soften.

“Thank you, Addie.”

She shivered, tucked in on herself, and said nothing.

The worst part was that it actually was nicer in the car. Her father had already turned up the heat all the way, opened the passenger-side vents, and switched on the seat warmer. She didn’t want it to feel good. She wanted to resent it like she resented everything her father touched, but her body obviously hadn’t gotten the message. Feeling returned to her slowly, nipping at her numb extremities and stiff joints and hunched, frozen spine.

“Weeeeeell, Lady Dellouise… So kind of you to join us.”

Adelaide bolted upright as a low, smooth voice from the backseat interrupted her involuntary relaxation. She whipped around, damn near relishing her skittering pulse and tight lungs because it meant her defenses were still up, but there was no monster behind her. Just a man. Slimy John, as he was colloquially known, was certainly one of Harborview’s more disquieting citizens, with a penchant for selling knives to children. But he was still just a man, and he gave her a toothy, human smile.

“Johnathon and some other residents will be sheltering in the church with us.” Her father had climbed back into the car. There was a megaphone in the driver’s seat which he rested in his lap as he closed the door, dampening the storm. “Folks who’d be safer there than anywhere else, you understand. The Davises are cooking up dinner for everyone, and the Owens have lent us some camping equipment to help stay comfortable while we wait this thing out.”

“I am much obliged, Deacon Wy,” commented Slimy John. “Y’all really don’t have to go to so much trouble.”

“We’re a community. We take care of each other.”

Adelaide scoffed under her breath. She knew exactly where this so-called community’s care ran out, and it was at crossing her father.

They drove straight back to the church. As they trundled through Old Harborview, her father rolled down the window to blare his pronouncements about the shelter-in-place advisory and the church’s open doors, but he didn’t slow down to accept any other transients. Adelaide could only assume the new haste was for her benefit. The sooner she was locked inside, the better, right?

Adelaide dug her nails into her skin, glanced at her phone, and started counting the minutes til the storm’s passing, just like she and her best friend Nat used to do during Sunday School. Whoever could go the longest without checking the time got the other’s oreos during snack break.

She always lost.

Lit beneath by a pair of austere spotlights, the First Church of Her Will surged from the darkness, its single spire towering and curved like a giant rib jutting out into the night sky, a carcass picked clean. As the car pulled up, the wind’s rabid howling grew louder, screaming against the windows. Adelaide, who could finally wiggle her toes again, couldn’t decide which would be worse: braving the storm once more or facing whatever was waiting for her in the cathedral.

“I’ll get the umbrella out of the trunk,” her father announced. “No need for you to get any wetter than you already are.”

He turned off the engine. The car plummeted into darkness, and when the heat cut out, Adelaide shuddered, an ugly, reflexive twitch.

She snapped, “I’m fine,” and reached for the car door.

Before she could open it, however, Slimy John let out a long, low whistle of a laugh.

“Whew! She really got Melanie’s quick temper, don’t she, Wy?”

Adelaide and Wyatt both went rigid.

For her part, Adelaide was rarely ever equipped to talk about her mother, fifteen years gone and mourned more in the last two than at any other point in her life. On that particular day, when she was already hanging on by a thread, just the name was enough to send her trembling.

Worse than the name, though, was her father, who mirrored her tension in the corner of her eye. The symmetry between them, clamped tight around the same loss, made Adelaide sick to her stomach. Suddenly, she needed to get out of the car as fast as possible. Even the church had to be better than sitting in that moment of connection.

She threw herself out into the storm. It swallowed her up for a moment, but she ran up the slick steps and through the heavy double doors, and in an instant, the hurricane disappeared. In its place, the First Church of Her Will opened up before her for the first time in a year.

And in that instant, Adelaide knew she had made a mistake: this was worse.

Like her dad’s car, like the mansion down the road, like just about every inch of Harborview, it felt so much like it should’ve been home that she nearly burst. The memories slammed into her, cresting and crashing from every corner of the nave: the worn pews where she and Nat used to play hide-and-seek, the glinting prayer candles where she had knelt after her mother’s funeral, the lectern where her father had stood for so many days of so many years still larger than life, the painting behind the altar rendering the church’s founder, Our Lady Prophet Delilah Dubois, in severe beauty, each stroke of her countenance exactly as Adelaide remembered it after spending one too many sermons lost in her oil-slick eyes, each detail another mouthful of saltwater she couldn’t swallow.

And mercy, it was warm like the undertow wrapped around her throat

And it was full. The smiling faces of familiar strangers dotted her horizon, all brought together under the banner of community care and that stubborn, unerring streak of self-sufficiency that defined Harborview, and Adelaide hated it so much she could’ve choked on it.

The storm surge of her rage broke through its levee, and she was too full too sudden and sputtering for air as her vision blurred white-hot. Her mind churned, dizzy and desperate, around one furious thought: how dare?

How dare this no longer be her home? How dare he spoil that too?

And how dare they abide it? Her so-called family friends, the congregation that had raised her and now sat by twiddling their thumbs while her father drowned her?

“Adelaide!”

In one moment, the entire world was tilting around her, as if she were a liferaft thrown out to the roiling sea.

In the next, there was a hand on her shoulder. Her focus broke, and everything went still and straight again.

Nat’s father, Duke Owens, beamed down at her and tugged her inside.

“So good to see you, kiddo. How long’s it been?”

Adelaide blinked and stumbled after him. Sluggishly, the social scripts of polite society and normal conversation came back to her.

“Too long…”

“Well, it’s great you’re here. Sarah Davis is making her famous collard greens, and her, uh, third… the current husband brought over a huge batch of potato salad, and we’ve just put on a pot to cook some corn. We’ve also got water, juice boxes, even a lick of bourbon if you think you can get away with it.” He winked as he directed her down the aisle.

A shake clearer-headed, Adelaide got a better sense of who else was milling around in the shrine to her poisoned youth. About two dozen of Harborview’s fine citizens sprawled out across the pews. They were split half and half between those who were dispensing the charity and those who were receiving it. Among the latter, Adelaide identified a smattering of residents from the trailer park at the west edge of town, a stoned vanlifer, a young city couple whose car had probably broken down, a handful of farmers who didn’t trust the structural integrity of their houses, and Madame Tilly, the congregation’s oldest and most devout member.

The other half—composed of Mary Owens, her two sons, Sarah Davis, her daughter, her current husband, one of her ex-husbands, and another priest—clustered at the front of the nave. That, Adelaide knew, was her destination: the insufferable snare of small town small talk with people she had known all her life and resented.

The altar and the lectern had been pushed back to make room for a pair of mismatched folding tables. One held the Owens’ camping stoves and large, bubbling stock pots, while the other was attended to by the younger generation, who were setting out plates, bowls, silverware, and napkins. Combined with the drink coolers and the warming tupperwares of potato salad, the spread could have been any church potluck or community barbecue.

Indeed, the only indication of the hurricane was Adelaide herself, tottering to a stop in front of them and once again failing not to shiver.

The fussing began immediately.

“Oh, sweetheart, what happened to you?” cooed Mary Owens.

“Poor thing, you gotta go change!” exclaimed Sarah Davis. “I’ve got some spare stuff in my duffle…”

“Dang, Adelaide, you’re gonna get sick going out dressed like that,” tutted Nat’s older brother, Jack.

“That’s what I told her.” Adelaide felt her father’s hand on her shoulder like a vice. “I found Addie halfway back home. She got caught out in the storm when the advisory went into effect, but, mercy be, we’re all safe here now.”

The others, ever the faithful parishioners, nodded and intoned, “Mercy be.”

Smothering the urge to gag, Adelaide cleared her throat and mustered up her most charming cheerleader smile.

“Mrs. Davis, that change of clothes sounds swell just about now.”

The church’s holiness had never quite extended into the single-occupant bathrooms in the basement. The consecration stopped short at the harsh fluorescents, speckled linoleum tiles, grimy ceramic, and the half-empty trash can perched on its throne of wet, crumpled paper towels. The closest thing to sanctity in the room was the pastel cross-stitch wall art reminding its viewers that Delilah preached moderation in all things… except cleanliness!, and even that couldn’t compel anyone to actually throw their paper towels away.

It was as close to an escape as Adelaide was going to get.

She had to peel her sopping clothes away from her skin, like wearing away the adhesive of a band-aid until she was hunched and nearly naked in the middle of the bathroom with two handfuls of dripping fabric. Her flats were coming apart at the seams, and her stockings were so drenched and muddy that she abandoned any hope of salvaging them. Instead, she threw both articles of clothing in the trash before trying to ring out her dress over the sink. The twisting and squeezing yielded some measure of success, so she stuffed the dress into the plastic bag Jack had offered her.

She then began to rifle through Sarah Davis’ assorted athleisure: a pair of neon pink and green tennis shoes, socks that said namaste, two tight yoga pants, and an assortment of sporty tank tops emblazoned with bubble text that ranged from mere novelty (KEEP HARBORVIEW WEIRD) to outright suggestion (MY EYES ARE UP HERE). Adelaide picked one that said FINE LIKE WINE not because it suited her particularly but because it had the loosest fit. Both pairs of pants, however, were as form-fitting and skin-tight as the wet stockings she had just taken off, hugging every curve and divot of her legs.

In the end, she was dressed but exposed, unable to control something so simple as her appearance, hating the glimpses of herself she caught in the mirror.

Even her face seemed foreign to her. The rain had ruined her makeup, leaving streaks of mascara down her cheeks and blotchy patches of red lipstick on her mouth. Her hair hung from her in frizzing, ropey strands plastered to the sides of her face and neck. She didn’t recognize the face staring back at her with the tears rimming its wide, desperate eyes.

That other person trapped in the glass snarled, wrenched a paper towel from the dispenser, and clawed the rest of its makeup off. A moment later, it raked its nails through its hair in a biting impression of a brush, gathering the strands together in a loose ponytail with a scrunchie from Sarah’s duffle bag.

At least she had control over something.

At least she could still control the muscles of her unvarnished face, massaging out the furrows in her brow and slackening the tension in her jaw and schooling her lips into an effortless smile.

When she looked in the mirror one last time, she almost resembled herself again.

Supper was up by the time Adelaide went back upstairs. Townsfolk were gathered at the front of the chamber, salting and buttering ears of corn and taking deep, indulgent whiffs of the collard greens, laden with thick-cut bacon and leftover ham hock. Strains of jovial conversation reached her by the stairwell. How is so-and-so doing? Some weather we’re having, huh. Got any holiday plans? How old is so-and-so now? She’s where? Oh my, but they grow up so fast…

Adelaide heard Nat’s name in the mix—something about an athletic scholarship at Clemson—and felt sick again.

Her empty stomach grumbled its complaints as she turned away, but she ignored it, forcing her attention to settle on Madame Tilly, who had not joined the others for dinner. Rather, the old woman, sporting her trademark purple velvet cap and elaborate gem-encrusted beetle brooch, was still kneeling by a box of candles near the front door, lost to the world as she muttered her prayers.

Adelaide reasoned that that, at least, was a conversation she could handle.

Matilda Lawrence had been just as much a part of Adelaide’s life growing up as the Owens. For as long as she could remember, she and her father had been checking up on Madame Tilly after Wednesday service. It had been Adelaide’s earliest act of charity, a kind deed for a kind elder whose mind had wandered even in her youth. Even longer than those visits, though, Adelaide recalled her unwavering faith. As distracted as she might be elsewhere, in church, Madame Tilly was nothing but resolute and focused. Indeed, her knowledge of canticles, verses, and hymns was second only to Deacon Dellouise himself.

Adelaide used to think it would be nice to grow up and be someone like Madame Tilly: refined, devout, at peace.

Nowadays, she just barely had one of the three.

Adelaide squatted beside the prayer box, three tiered rows of tea lights set in small glass bowls. Only a few of the candles were lit, each a pinprick prayer glinting above a puddle of grey wax. She watched them flicker as she listened to Madame Tilly continue her supplications without so much as a glance in her direction.

The words were as familiar as the low, hoarse voice that mumbled them:

“That I may deliver my own salvation, I bequeath upon myself a clear mind and a strong heart. That I may shoulder my own burdens, carry my own weight, and discipline the limits of my own desires, such that I never exceed the boundaries of restraint and propriety. That I may survive the oncoming storm, I pray for clarity, fortitude, and tenacity…”

“And in so praying,” the words spilled forth from Adelaide’s marrow, deep and reluctant as every fiber of her being, “I grant upon myself such virtues as foreseen by our lady prophet.”

Madame Tilly lifted her head, blinking, and smiled up at Adelaide, slow and indulgent.

“Little Addie,” she murmured, gums stretched wide. “How are you?”

“Surviving by someone’s grace.” Adelaide didn’t know if it was her own or her father’s or Delilah’s herself. Probably wasn’t her own. “How ’bout yourself?”

“All is as we will it.”

Typical Order of Dubois bullshit response. Adelaide smiled back.

“Well, it looks like dinner’s up, if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, but I can’t stop praying. There’ll be time to feed myself later. Harborview needs my prayers now. It is as our lady prophet says.” Madame Tilly tapped her forehead with the second knuckle of her right pointer finger, tracing a loose oval between her brows. “‘In seeing clearly, might all the Earth resolve itself in perfect and accurate order.’ Worship is the only way to a clear mind’s eye. A clear mind’s eye is the only way to a righteous world.”

Righteousness seemed a terribly inappropriate framework for understanding a natural disaster, but Adelaide’s good sense told her not to argue.

Instead, she picked up one of the lit prayer candles and tilted it forward. The melted wax pooled to one side, threatening to drown the pinpoint of light quivering inside the glass. When she narrowed her eyes, the flame blossomed into a thin white line across her vision. Its expansion was an optical illusion, she knew, but if she focused hard enough, she could trick herself into thinking that the glass was heating up, cracking, splintering, shattering…

“We could all use some clarity just about now,” Adelaide remarked as she spun the bowl, watching the silvery wax swirl like wine.

“Don’t I know it… You seeking clarity yourself, little Addie? I haven’t seen you around here in a while.”

“Y’know how it is.” Eyes open, eyes closed, flame thinning and widening and winking like blinding starlight, glass hotter and hotter against the pads of her fingers. “One day, you’re suddenly an adult, and you gotta take some time to figure things out.”

“I’ve been an adult for quite a while, dearie. I did all my figuring out long ago.”

“And how’d that go for you?”

“She simplified things a good bit.” Madame Tilly nodded toward the back of the church, and Adelaide followed her gaze to the oil painting of Delilah Dubois. The prophet’s watchful steely eyes stared back from underneath a windswept cowl. “I was a wild and wayward soul once upon a time, but I wandered back to her eventually, and she set me on the straight and narrow… You could always come back too, y’know. Give it all a second chance.”

Adelaide’s grip on the bowl tightened.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Ah, but showing up is only half the work.” Adelaide glanced back at her out of the corner of her eye. Madame Tilly responded by touching her finger to her forehead again. “You still have to have faith, dearie. Otherwise, it’s only a paper moon.

“That was the first lesson Lady Delilah taught us, after all. She saw the end of days on the horizon, the plagues and the storms and the fires that would burn this world to its core, and she turned to prayer. Not just mumbling a few half-hearted words, you understand, but complete dedication of body and soul to her worship. That was her salvation.

“And it’s saved Harborview dozens of times since then. Right before you were born, actually, we had another hurricane. This one got so close the state put us under an evacuation notice, so your daddy rented a whole fleet of buses and he went out in his jeep with his megaphone to round folks up and make sure they got out safe and sound before the storm got bad.

“But instead of leaving with them, he and Melanie came back here, and the three of us set about doing what Delilah mandated we do in the face of travesty. We dedicated ourselves to our piety. We didn’t eat, we didn’t drink, we didn’t sleep, we just prayed.

“And we were rewarded, as Delilah said we would be. For all those weather boys saying we would be wiped off the map, the hurricane only grazed us. Oh, there was some superficial damage to a few buildings on the Docks, and we lost the old community center to the flooding, but we survived. Harborview survived, as it always has, on the back of its own self-efficacy.

“That is the power of faith, child: making divine and mortal providence one in the same.”

But much of Madame Tilly’s sermon had fallen on deaf ears, for Adelaide could not let go of the thought of her mother holed up in this church listening to the world end around her. She pictured her crouched before this same prayer box, hands clenched, eyes shut, trembling.

Had she wanted to stay? Or had she been coerced, her husband never being one to let his things wander too far from his domain? She was a devout woman, but did her faith hold? Did she believe Wyatt when he told her devotion was the only way to salvation?

Did she have any other choice but to believe, to paper a smile over the worry and go through the motions of her worship while her fear gutted her from the inside out? How many screams and sobs did she smother because doubt was still the worse sin in the eyes of her husband?

Did she nurse some secret seed of resentment toward him for condemning her to die alongside him?

Adelaide’s own fear spiraled as sudden as a lightning strike. It was an old anxiety at this point, but it hadn’t yet lost its edge or its weight: that moment of feeling the entire ocean bearing down on her chest. Too tight to move, too heavy to breathe, just the water in her lungs trying to drag her down.

Trapped.

Crack!

The candle holder exploded.

Madame Tilly yelped as glass and wax showered the ground. The still-burning wick hit the carpet. A chorus of gasps and shrieks and questioning grunts surged from the other side of the church.

But all Adelaide knew was the flame. The orange glimmer cut through the fear, and for a blinding moment, she had that holy clarity that the Order of Dubois revered so much: a crystal-clear image of the church reduced to smoldering ash and burning rubble, so real she could taste the heat and smoke sweet on her tongue. If she just focused…

Some smell like ozone and chlorine hit Adelaide square in the nose. Her vision blurred, head swimming as that sublime image warped before her eyes. She tried to hold onto it, but it vanished out from underneath her, like missing the last step in the dark. For a moment, she reeled in the free-fall, stomach plummeting and body lurching, staggering back onto her heels.

Then, her vision settled. She was back in the church. It was normal and whole. The flame was out. And her father was staring hard at her from across the room.

Outside, the thunder boomed as loud as any pipe organ, deep enough to shake the church’s foundations.

The power went out.

The congregation gasped again as the darkness took them. The precious few points of candlelight were quickly joined by the glare of cellphones at the front of the nave. Madame Tilly merely shook her head and resumed her praying, while Adelaide stared at the faces huddled near the altar, cast in a waxy and uneven sheen by the weak flashlights they clutched to their chests. An anxious murmur bubbled up amongst them until their deacon cleared his throat so loud even the rain seemed to hold its breath for him.

“There’s no need to panic, folks.” Wyatt Dellouise only owned a flip phone, so for a moment, his voice seemed to emanate from the darkness itself, ever-present and ever-vigilant. Duke Owens switched on a camping lantern, suffusing the back of the church in a too-white glow. Wyatt appeared, his features ghastly as the light carved steep shadows into his countenance. “We knew this was a possibility, but the church has a generator precisely for this situation. I’ll go out back and turn it on. Duke, you mind if I borrow a flashlight or a lantern?”

“Of course, Wyatt, and if you need someone else to go out with you—”

“I’ll go.”

The glaring cellphones all turned toward Adelaide as she stretched her hand up into the air. A stuttered silence followed. Her father’s thin silhouette shifted.

“That’s awful kind of you, Addie, but—”

“You shouldn't have to go out there alone, Daddy!” Adelaide interrupted brightly. “I wanna help.”

He couldn’t deny her this, not when she was playing the dutiful, smiling daughter he wanted so badly to have back. With a nod and armed with raincoats and a high-powered flashlight, her father led her out the back door of the church.

Stepping back out into the storm, Adelaide’s mind wandered to her other childhood best friend, the one she tried her damnedest not to think about. Once upon a time, before Adelaide had ruined everything, Zak Ibis had been the genderqueer prom king to her prom queen. As the self-proclaimed arbiter of good taste and cultural relevance in a backwater town he resented, Zak could deliver gospel as well as any priest over DairyQueen blizzards or in the Barracuda’s locker rooms. Their vast but shallow reserves of amateurish expertise included computer science, film, sports, economics, and numerous pop science areas like sleep health, fad diets, and wolfpack dynamics as allegories for the human condition.

One such lecture came to mind as the first splash of rain hit Adelaide’s face, turned up toward a patch of clouds where the faint light of the moon filtered through the storm. She remembered one of her many late night break-ins to the lighthouse down the street from the Dellouise Mansion. With Nat giving her a boost, Adelaide would shimmy into the cracked second story window and open the door. Nat provided the snacks, Zak the weak booze, and they’d spend hours playing card games or listening to Zak pontificate.

Over cold, congealed nachos and watered down beer, Zak had once opined about the mammalian diving reflex— in his words, how to trick your lizard brain into thinking the world’s not ending by being in some water about it.

And in the storm’s totality, it did feel like being swallowed up by the sea: the whole world disappeared in the torrent, no ground, no horizon, no body, just the numbness where the droplets pelted against her skin.

Zak was right, it was kind of relaxing.

Would that she actually were in the ocean, sinking into the abyss so that her corpse could give rise to untold and monstrous ecosystems deep beneath the tides. Instead, the swinging of her father’s flashlight, cutting sharp through all that wet nothing, reminded Adelaide of where she was.

“The generator’s just back here.”

“Mhm.”

“Hold the flashlight, will you?”

Adelaide lifted the light up to illuminate the boxy grey generator on the ground and the paneling in the wall above it, which her father began to fuss with. She watched him work in silence, trying to puzzle out the function of the multitude of switches and blinking lights. She didn’t have the faintest idea what her father was doing with them.

Then again, that was the way the two of them functioned, wasn’t it? She didn’t have to know much of anything because daddy dearest could always solve all of her problems.

The irony of being dependent on a man who had dedicated his life to preaching self-sufficiency was so bitter that Adelaide drew in on herself, shivering in Mary Owens’ raincoat and Sarah Davis’ yoga outfit and despising the kindness they had shown her.

“What are you going to do if we ever have to evacuate?!” she shouted over the roar of the storm.

“We won’t need to evacuate,” he responded evenly.

“Sure, not this time around, but there’s always next time, ain’t there, and the time after that? We have a million fucking storms every summer, what are you going to do when one of them finally threatens to wipe this miserable shithole off the coastline?”

Her father’s hands paused, hovering over some button or another. Adelaide could not see his face, but she watched the outline of his Adam’s apple quiver.

“Watch your language, Addie,” he mumbled at last. He pushed the button, and light flooded out of the stained glass window suspended above their heads.

“That’s not an answer, and you fucking know it! Tell me what you would do!”

Desperation seized her as he finally turned toward her, mouth set like a tombstone to match the hard granite of his eyes. Adelaide could not feel her lips spluttering around her words, but she tasted the rainwater against her teeth.

“Would you let me go?!” She came so close to pleading that she wanted to retch. Barely swallowing the bile, she spat, “Or would you trap me here like you trapped Mama?!”

What little color was left drained from her father’s face.

“Addie, don’t—”

“You’d rather see me dead than gone!” The tempest didn’t stop for her like it did for him, but she could match its fury. “You’d let me drown before you’d let me leave!”

“I’d— I’d protect you!” He reached for her, stammering out familiar pleas and supplications. Adelaide shrunk away from his grasp. “I’d keep you safe, like I always have!”

“You’d just keep me!”

He tried to grab her again. Adelaide stepped backwards, slipped on the slick grass, and plummeted to the ground. He lunged to catch her, but she slapped away his hands as she fell. She’d rather have the pain: the sharp ache of a future bruise thrumming through her thighs and up her spine, the scrape of her knuckles against the ground, the twist of her wrist as she held onto the flashlight like a liferaft.

Standing above her, Wyatt’s face contorted, no longer the picture of the austere deacon but of a tired, sad old man.

“Addie, please,” he whispered, extending his hand again, “please just stop this. You’re only hurting yourself.”

In response, Adelaide chucked the flashlight as hard as she could in the other direction.

Somewhere in the darkness above her came a sigh, followed by heavy footsteps headed toward the flashlight, which had rolled to a stop near the fence of the cemetery. Still, Adelaide made no move to pick herself up. Instead, she leaned back to lay down in the mud, letting the rain wash over her.

She couldn’t see the sky.

She couldn’t see much of anything, but she knew Harborview’s geography well enough to draw a straight line from her outstretched fingertips to her father’s house, less than a block away but lost in the storm. She could extend that same, unerring line through to the lighthouse, that last bastion of unspoiled childhood, and she could stretch it out further to the ocean beyond.

She could feel it out there, roiling just out of sight. And if she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, she could almost feel it inside her too. In her mind’s eye, she saw a wave as tall as the sky cresting over the town, poised just before breaking. It would flood every street, level most buildings, wash away thousands of lives, erase Harborview from the face of the Earth and drag its fractured remains out to sea… and maybe that could free her.

Maybe it would be enough to call her father’s bluff and scare him into breaking the magic that tethered her to Harborview.

Or maybe the magic would break on its own if there was no Harborview.

As soon as it had occurred to her, Adelaide couldn’t let that thought go. The flood, the catastrophe, the destruction, the death. The horror sunk its fangs deep into her, gnawing the edges of morality and logic alike, and she let that callousness fester because it burned oh so tenderly even as she was slowly losing feeling in her limbs.

Why, after all, should she care about the wellbeing of the people who showed up twice a week to suckle at the teat of her father’s dogma despite everything he had done to her?

Why shouldn’t they drown too?

Who was Adelaide to deny the prophecies of her Lady Delilah?

#adelaide posting #okay shes DONE #topping out at 6000 words #this was legit originally just going to be the convo about what adelaide & wyatt would do if there was an evacuation notice #and it was just going to be a bit of dialogue in their house #and then i was like 'wait wouldnt wyatt be at the church during a shelter in place advisory'#and things........ spiraled from there #i have so many meta thoughts but im trying not to add too much commentary for the integrity of the piece #just. ugh. im screaming a lot inside.

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weavewilled · 6 months

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@palelfed inquired: does yelling while we're walking around count? / da:i party banter

Gale mostly just looked pained. " Please refrain —— " And it's almost pleading, though also tinged with some exasperation. " I like to think we should have a little more dignity. " That said: he hasn't the faintest idea where to properly begin; the city is large, they've only been given the barest idea of who and what to look for, and just the sheer activity and noise spilling around them near constantly is both welcoming and a little overwhelming.

" Besides, I think that would attract far more undue attention than we want. " And that's a little wry, attempting to be entirely casual, though the perceptive may note the strain 'round his eyes. " You know this city, don't you? "

#;; & a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. ( main v. )#palelfed

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thestitchingwitch · 1 year

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

Summary: teen!Devin Walker misses the bond that Heavy Step aka Iron Sides II and Bash Talon once had. Forlorn, he turns to the only guys he’s closest with: Mr. Enigma and Wunderkind.

Warnings: Angst, guys being emotional, physical harm, kissing, hugging, crying, death, jealousy, control issues.

a/n: This is just based on what I’ve read from the Legacy Watch account on Instagram so don’t come for me if something isn’t accurate. I don’t know or go to school with these people....So something that’s been on my mind lately is how lonely 97!Devin Walker must feel now that he doesn’t have his OG squad with him. What type of person would he become now that his team is so wildly different? Get ready for a little boys on boys indulgent drabble. ;)

It was a gloomy Saturday morning at the Edgewood dorms. The sky was overcast and there was a strong gale that made the windows rattle. One of those days where you’d stay inside with a cuppa tea.

Devin Walker was huddled under his navy comforter watching YouTube videos on his phone like he always did - with no headphones. It was a constant switch between the actual videos and random pizza commercials. His roommate, Wunderkind, was replaying voice notes on his phone. A familiar accented voice was eminating from the speakers.

“Hey Dev, you mind turning your volume down? I can’t hear these over your videos,” Wunderkind called.

“Aww dude, really? You’re making me turn down the volume so you can listen to Tómas?” Devin poked his head out from underneath the comforter.

“N-n-no - it’s just really loud and I’m tired of hearing the Gen Z version of the Pizza Bagel song. Wait, how do you know it’s Tómas?” Wunderkind responded - exasperated. It wasn’t super visible but he was definitely blushing underneath that mask.

“Wunderkind, I’d know that French accent ANYWHERE. You should quit being a wuss and just ask him out already,” Devin threw his comforter back over himself and unpaused his video again.

“I - I - I erm, how did you know I was into him?? And we don’t even know if he likes dudes!” Wunderkind stuttered.

“Like I always say, my dude, to fuck around is holy, to find out is divine,” Devin’s response was a bit muffled from all of the media noise and polyester.

“You’re ridiculous. I give up! I’m just going to put in headphones,” Wunderkind shook his head then proceeded to pop his wireless earbuds in.

Devin smiled to himself from underneath his blanket cocoon. It was just him and YouTube now, baby. He never really knew what Wunderkind saw in Tómas or why Wunderkind was so head over heels. It’s like Wunderkind never had never met a hot guy before. What the fuck? Devin was RIGHT THERE? Wunderkind never felt the need to be flustered around him. A travesty, really.

In some ways, Wunderkind reminded him of his best friend and member of the Gold Team, Ironsides II or “Heavy Step” (long story). When Devin knew his version of Heavy Step, he was kind of an anxious kid who Devin had to coax a lot. Honestly, it felt like rescuing a cat off of a treebranch some days. Both Wunderkind and Heavy Step both had big shoes to fill in regards to heroing. Although Wunderkind was a protegé of the Oracle, he, like Heavy Step, had some kind of legacy to uphold. Both of them had to feel an immense amount of pressure.

Devin’s thoughts shifted to Tómas Fargeon or Mr. Enigma (his working hero name for the time being). Was Tómas really like Bash Talon? Both were kind of boisterous and their love lives were....complicated was putting it nicely. He knew for a fact that Bash Talon did not grow up a billionaire or enjoy playing the cello. In that way, Tómas was his own beast.

A pang of sadness started to tug at Devin’s heart. Sometimes you never know how much you’d miss a person until they leave. What happens when they’re still here but they’re not the version of them that you knew? And you’re a version of you that they used to know? No one tells you how to navigate those situations. Devin Walker, though he didn’t show it, often felt like one of the loneliest kids on campus. He enjoyed the company of Wunderkind and Tómas, mainly Wunderkind if we’re being honest with ourselves, but it wasn’t the same as the bond he shared with the Gold Team.

“Hey. Heyyyyyy. Hey, Wunderkind?” Devin, once again, peaked out from underneath his comforter cocoon. He motioned at Wunderkind to get his attention. Wunderkind was currently entranced by whatever he was listening to on his phone. Wunderkind’s eyes were glazed over with lust as he clutched one of his pillows.

Ew. Guess Tómas really said something juicy, Devin thought to himself. Wunderkind shook himself out of his stupor when he noticed Devin’s frosted tips peaking out towards him.

Wunderkind took out a bud and cocked his eye at Devin, “you good over there?”

“Yeah...no...so like, no homo or anything, but can I like, chill on your bed?” Devin asked sheepishly.

Radio silence.

“Uhhhhhh sure??? So like, you want to switch beds?” Wunderkind cocked an eyebrow at him. He was clearly unsure how to interpret this request.

“No, no, dude like, you can stay on there. I just want some company,” Devin looked at Wunderkind who wore a concerned expression.

“Um. Cool, okay,” Wunderkind scooted down to make room for Devin, who was still in his blanket cocoon.

“Thanks, bro. You’re a homie,” Devin said as he hopped up. He didn’t realize it but Wunderkind had sneakily shot Tómas an SOS text.

A few minutes passed by with no conversation between them both of them. Wunderkind took one side of his bed and Devin sat on the other. A knock at the door broke both of them from their stupors.

Wunderkind leapt up to grab the door and who other than Tómas was on the other side to greet them. Per usual, Tómas was only wearing a pair of very short track shorts. Sometimes Wunderkind and Devin felt like Tómas had some sort of material allergy. You could never find Tómas fully clothed. Odd.

“Oh, hey, Tómas! Wow, what a surprise to see you here!” Wunderkind forced an awkward smile.

“Yeah, Wunderkind I got your text wh-” Tómas began but was immediately cut short.

“Ahahaha yeah!” Wunderkind awkwardly laughed, putting his hand over Tómas’ mouth.

“Wunderkind just tell Tómas you think he’s hot already,” Devin called from the bed. Tómas looked down at Wunderkind with a flirty expression and waggled his eyebrows at him. Wunderkind’s whole body started to flush.

“Oh? Wunderkind - is there something you wanted to tell me? Sadly for you, I’m not gay,” Tómas was clearly amused by the whole ordeal. Wunderkind froze then scratched the back of his head.

“Uhhh oh...awkward...yeah, I figured as much! Ummm I meant objectively hot, not ‘I want to date Tómas’ hot,” Wunderkind gave an awkard chuckle at this. Devin shot Wunderkind at disappointing look before shaking his head.

“Dev, you mind if I take this bed?” Tómas made his way over to Devin’s bed which only had the navy fitted sheet on it.

“Oh, yeah, dude. That’s fine. Do whatever you want!” Devin responded, still fixated on whatever YouTube video was playing on his phone.

To be continued...

#Mr. Enigma #Tómas Fargeon #Wunderkind #teen!Devin Walker #Devin Walker #Ice Break #fluff #angsty #97!Devin Walker #97!Ice Break #Gold Team #Legendary Whispers

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cauldron-of-coulter · 3 years

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—SCARS ARE OUR ARMOR

PT.1

±You meet a mysterious man named Coulter through gaming with your friends±

Howling like a reverberated cataclysm of pressure, the forces of the gale that thundered down on the dystopia of the fallen city known as Olde Serrn, rocked the rubble and fallen debris into a whirlwind of flying objects.

There was a deafening silence that followed the downfall of the empire, followed by a chorus of loud rambunctious laughter breaking the reticent and taciturn lack of volume emitted by the shock of a lucky triumph. Hollers of praise and boasts of victory soon began a cluster of fortitude among the four brazen warriors, each sound bouncing through the mesh of your headset as your laughter echoed theirs.

“I was sure that Octomi was about to rip you a whole new asshole, Y/N. What the hell were you even doing in there?”

You recognised the voice belonged to your long time friend Andrew—a seemingly incompetent gamer but an all to enthusiastic friend— who you could tell was sporting a grin from the amusement in his voice.

“I found a kitchen that had oven mitts you could wear and—”

More laughter swallowed your hearing, making it hard to focus on your own sentence since you could barely hear yourself talk over the noise. A trait many would consider a weakness through vanity, but you would call not-tripping-over-your-words.

“All I know is that there was an open oven and not enough food to go around, so—”

A hearty wheeze cut you off, before the infamous rumble of Finn's words cut through the air at an exasperated speed, oxygen becoming a deprived feature among the four of you.

“... The objective was to fend off the Octomi, not feed them.”

A ping flashed on everyone's screens as the silent warrior, Dash, messaged everyone at once.

ʼWho got the final Octomi?ʼ

“Uh, I cuffed that bad boy before it managed to sneak up on Y/N.” Came Finn's proud and smug reply. You could just imagine him sat behind his screen shooting finger guns at his own reflection.

Ping. ʼDid you charge him with resisting a roast?ʼ

You couldn't help the wild cackle that fell from your lips at that message. It wasn't uncommon for you to be easily amused by the worst jokes in the world. It's probably why Andrew's dad loved your company so much.

The group chat lit up the screen in neon as another person entered. Finn was the one to greet the newcomer, him being the only known associate to him.

“No fuckin' way! Coulter, I'm glad you could make it bud. These are the friends I was telling you about.”

Confusion washed over you before a feigned gasp flew out and an accusation flew off your tongue—only those who truly knew you, could tell when you were joking, to everyone else you were just bitchy.

“You mean to tell me that you've been speaking about us behind our backs to a complete stranger, but told us nothing of this guy?”

Andrew instantly deadpanned by continuing, “Did you forget to come out before you decided to introduce us to your boyfriend?”

Ping. ʼ🤔ʼ

“Fuck you, I came out three years ago.” He countered with amusement.

A warm chuckle rippled through the social circle, causing the hair to stand up on the back of your neck, goosebumps traveling down your arms. His voice was silky and enchanting as it greeted the group of misfits. “If you can't beat them, I can arrange to have them beaten for you, Finn.”

The threatening and dark tone to his voice sent shivers down your spine and you immediately became intrigued by how easily you felt almost intimidated by him. Most people didn't find it o easy to fit in, but you noted how this guy was already apart of the pack without even trying.

Maybe it was the friendship he shared with Finn that made him more relatable and easy to be at ease with, or perhaps it was his ability to pick up on morbid humor by rebutting his own, or the way he thrived off using an insult based sense of humor as a term of endearment—regardless of the reason, you decided against trying to pinpoint the cause, and instead focused on engaging him in the battle of wits he had started. Either way, the conversation just seemed to flow easily between you both.

You figured it was an attempt to distract you from the onslaught of blows his character pummelled onto yours, but when he realised that it wasn't removing your attention from the focus at hand, he decided another approach.

In capital letters and bright blue lettering, appearing at the bottom of your screen, the words that held your attention span as you struggled to open the notification, read:

'DAUNTLESSDEVIL HAS SENT YOU A FRIEND REQUEST'

And just like that, your new friend Coulter cheated his way to a victory by using his own orchestrated distraction against you.

Part 2

#eric coulter x reader #eric coulter #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter fanfiction #reader insert #alternative #dauntless #divergent #divergent au

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

Text

Too Scared (Cloud Strife x Reader)

Character: Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart, Barret Wallace

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Tags: Reader Insert, GenderNeutral!Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Brief descriptions of injury, insomnia and nightmares

Summary: When something goes wrong during a mission and Y/N gets hurt, Cloud gets slightly protective. Even with Barret and Tifa’s concern, Y/N doesn’t quite feel safe until a certain someone steps in.

Word Count: 2k words

A/N: Can you tell I’m loving FFVII Remake? Deep down Cloud’s soft and we all know it, so have some cute protective Cloud! Enjoy! :D

When you agreed to join them on their mission for the first time, you were expecting something else. Adventure, action, excitement. Instead, you were received with nervous butterflies in your stomach, the feeling of dread, the threat of imminent death and the concern for your friends. Even if you hadn’t known Cloud, Tifa and Barret for that long. Especially not the ex-Soldier, since he made it so hard.

“Y/N!” Barret called you, so suddenly bringing you out of your thoughts that you jumped a little. “Get your ass over here!”

“Sorry...” You held your head down, internally lecturing yourself, and approached them. All eyes were on you as you stopped before the trio.

“Don’t worry” Tifa kindly smiled. “I get nervous too”

“Can we focus?” Cloud interrupted, immediately tearing his gaze from you.

You frowned, but nodded. After all his dry comments and elusive behavior, you were starting to think he didn’t like you very much.

“What’re we doing then, Soldier boy?” Barret asked him.

“They seem to be busted or something” Cloud lazily pointed to the big robotic Shinra weapons that towered over you. “A good thing too, if they weren’t-”

“Watch out!” Tifa exclaimed, acquiring a ready stance.

His words had seemed to jinx the group, because just then the biggest one came to life and pointed its shooters at you three. You were the closest, and despite her warning, wasn’t fast enough to move. All three of them had jumped back, but you were frozen in place. Paralyzed, you could only stare at the moving machine like a deer in headlights. Your hands didn’t even reach out to pick up your weapon.

“Y/N!” Someone called, you couldn’t tell who. In any case, the explosion muffled their worried cries.

As the robot aimed at you, the fiery projectile threw you flying backwards. You landed with a harsh thud that made your bones hurt. A ringing deafened you as it was the only thing filling your ears. You grimaced as you tried to get your bearings back and ignore the intense pain that spread through you. It took your breath away.

You hadn’t realized someone was shaking your shoulder until your eyes found focus. They landed over a beautiful blue inundated in green. In your daze, it took you a bit to understand it was Cloud staring straight at you.

“Y/N!” He tried again, squeezing your arm. “You okay?!”

Blinking repeatedly, you weakly nodded your head. Though you opened your mouth, no words left it save for a strangled whimper.

“Stay behind me” He was becoming blurry as he slowly faced his back to you again.

Frowning as you tried to make sense of what you were witnessing, a confusing mess of bodies moving in a strange angle and loud noises, you saw Cloud wielding his big sword. He stood before you, throwing quick glances over his shoulder to check on you as he protected you with his body. His mouth was moving as he spoke to you, but you couldn’t hear him when the whistling in your ears began again.

You reached out to him, hoping he didn’t get hurt protecting you. He seemed perfectly skilled, yet even as he cleverly used his sword as a shield, you felt uneasy. Cloud was far too distracted by your wellbeing to focus on the battle.

You were feeling yourself slipping out of consciousness. A loud groan of pain came from before you, making you gasp in concern.

“C-Cloud...” You uttered, far too weakly for him to hear.

The last thing you saw were his boots in your field of vision as you hand went limp against the ground. Even as you succumbed to the darkness, you tried to reach out to him one last time.

Tifa and Barret had been incredibly kind and thoughtful. For the remainer of the day, they had looked after you. Luckily, you weren’t badly hurt and your injuries had more to do with the shock of the impact than anything else.

When it came to night, Tifa told you to stay in a small apartment complex near by. Coincidentially, Cloud was staying there too. You hadn’t seen him ever since the accident, but you wanted to make sure he was alright. Sure, they had insisted that he was and that no one else came to harm, but... you needed to see with your own two eyes.

Despite your fatigue, you spent hours tossing and turning on the bed. It was comfortable, but your thoughts were far too busy to find rest. In a way, you were also listening in case Cloud appeared, restless until you saw him again.

Giving up on trying to sleep, you slowly walked out of the room. The fresh air felt nice and cleared your head a little. You paced up and down once in an attempt to rid your tense muscles of their numbness. Then you sighed in exhaustion and sat down, hanging your legs off the edge of the balcony.

A door suddenly creaked open, causing you to jolt up in surprise. Although your heart had begun racing, it calmed at the sight you were received with when you turned.

“It’s just you, Cloud...” You sighed in relief, yet it was also partly relief to see him. Whole, in one piece, deadpan and serious as always.

“Hey” Was all he said, though he observed you intently.

You looked him up and down, remembering hearing him groan in pain. After searching for any signs of injury, you found them. His dark tank top was a bit thorn along the stomach, there where dry blood stained the fabric and the bit of skin exposed under it.

“You’re hurt!” You made to get up, but he held a hand up to stop you. Nonetheless, you continued ranting in concern. “It’s my fault, I’m so sorry...”

“It’s nothing” He assured to interrupt your panic. “Just a scratch”

“You... you got that protecting me”

“It happens... I’m fine”

Your eyes followed him as he plopped down next to you. His gaze was glued ahead, even as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No...”

“What’s wrong?”

You hesitated. Cloud was tough and you didn’t want to appear weak in front of him, you just wanted him to like you. Instead of admitting your anguish and the fresh memories of what happened that day, you shook your head.

“Nothing...” You hoped he couldn’t see through your lie.

“Just spit it out” He tiredly said, leaning his head in your direction.

“Uh...” You sighed and cleared your throat, feeling your voice shaky. “I’m... too scared”

He didn’t scoff like you expected him to. Maybe he wasn’t as cold and heartless as he pretended to be. Carefully watching him with the corner of your eye, you noticed he was staring at you. His face contorted in concern, and he frowned in something that resembled empathy.

Although it took him a bit as his mouth fell agape, he piped up.

“You got hurt, it can be frightening” Cloud said, averting his gaze. “Don’t beat yourself up for being scared”

Taken aback by his response, you couldn’t reply immediately. In fact, you had to make an effort not to smile. It warmed your heart that he tried to comfort you

“Thank you, and thanks for protecting me back there”

“That’s what you brought me along for” Cloud shrugged, returning to his usual coold-headedness. It made the sweet tender moment you shared all the more special as well as rare.

A sudden gale swept over you two, making you shiver. You heard him utter a sound as he turned to look at you.

“You should go back inside” He frowned, still facing you as his eyes glanced away once more. “Not that I care, but you could catch a cold out here”

Despite his words, you had to smile to yourself. Slowly, you were starting to see through his facade. He did care, he just didn’t want anyone to know.

“I’m good here, it’s dark and lonely in there”

Cloud sighed, yet despite his clear exasperation, one of his arms fell over your shoulders. You could only assume he did it to keep you warm, as his body radiated warmth.

“C-Cloud!” You exclaimed in astonishment, surprised that he was so adamant on looking after you.

“Shut up” Was all he said, even as his arm pulled you closer against his torso.

“Not that you care” You told him, teasing him slightly. “But thank you”

“Hm” He told you as all response, allowing you to snuggle closer to him.

You heaved a sigh of relief as you relaxed under his protective closeness. All day you had been tired, scared and jumpy, but sitting there with Cloud you felt calm. For the first time in hours, you weren’t afraid anymore.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you closed your eyes. Your entire body felt heavy with exhaustion. As you further relaxed, your breathing slowed and you felt yourself falling asleep.

“Y/N?” He called, though you were too sleepy to reply back.

In a way more tender than you thought him capable of, Cloud carefully scooped you into his arms. As he carried you, you felt safe from any and all threats. Still you tried to say something, but even opening your mouth felt tiring.

When you heard the sound of a door opening and him dipping you slightly, you groaned in complaint and held on to his tank top. He stuttered at the gesture.

“Stay with me” You asked him, needing his comforting presence.

“B-But...” He mumbled, still hovering with you in his arms.

“Please, Cloud” Your eyelids were too heavy to open, and your hand wasn’t even strong enough to cling on to him anymore.

“Fine” He sighed, gingerly placing you on the bed and settling in the floor close to you. “Just for a bit”

You smiled, and you intended to thank him, but you were already fast asleep.

You stirred until you startled yourself awake. Quickly sitting up on the bed, you tried to shake away the remnants of your nightmare. It was worse when you remembered it was based on a real occurrence.

Slightly dazed, you glanced around to find yourself back in your room. The faint light from dawn filtrated through the window, signaling the arrival of a new day.

“Cloud?” You lowly called, expecting him to be long gone.

“I’m here” His voice unexpectedly said from below.

You hadn’t noticed him, but he was lying down on the ground. He turned around to be facing you and watched you intently. You could almost read his thoughts, that so urgently told him to ask how you were doing. He didn’t.

“What are you doing on the floor?” You said instead, frowning at the sight.

“Wasn’t gonna let you sleep on the floor” He casually said, sitting up himself.

You smiled, endeared by the thoughtful gesture. He grunted in annoyance and fidgeted until his back leaned against the wall.

“Feeling better?” He finally asked you, although he might have been trying to change the subject.

“Yeah, I am”

“Good”

“Thanks to you, for looking after me”

“Whatever...” He stood up and languidly rested his weight on his right leg. “Can I go now?”

“Right after I pay you back” Almost cunningly, you smirked as you leaned closer to him.

He gasped when your lips met with his cheek for just a second. Flustered, he stood there stuttering for a bit until he finally rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Go get some rest” You told him, taking notice of the dark circles under his eyes. “It looks like you didn’t sleep all night”

“I did” He lied, averting his gaze as he seemed to often do. “You just couldn’t tell”

“Sure” You replied as he began to walk away, following his every move.

Cloud stopped before the door, looking over his shoulder to you. Then he walked out without a word, closing the door behind him. You sighed, feeling much calmer and peaceful than last night. As you lied back down, you smiled to yourself.

Cloud pretended not to, but he did care. You hadn’t known each other for that long, yet he was willing to watch over you all night. He had watched over you all night, protecting you when you were too scared to fall asleep. He cared.

Tag list: @anxiouslyreckless / @xionroxas / @dancewaterdance02 / @little-faerie-artist / @x-joie-x / @honeybunhanbin / @legallyblindgamer727 / @goodmorningawfulbye / @trunks-kiwi // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, let me know!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#rfi writings #ficlet #cloud strife x reader #ff #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii ficlet #ffvii #ffvii ficlet #cloud strife #cloud strife ficlet #final fantasy vii remake #ffvii remake #reader insert #not requested

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