#all i wanted was to check out the god gale ending and i did a big mistake trying to see the other durge

[fenharel-archived]

omg durge who embraced bhaal but didnt take over the netherbrain probably has the most fucked up epilogue huh

[moonselune]

Dark!BG3 | Back in my arms

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Coercion, murder, forced memory loss, toxic relationship, power imbalance

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Now you have been found, your lover enjoys having you back in their arms, even if you don't.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

Dragged back to Minthara's grand house, you fought and defied at every point, your spirit a fierce flame that refused to be extinguished. The opulent halls, adorned with trophies of her conquests, were a stark contrast to the dungeon you were thrown into for your persistent misbehaviour, you believe the last straw was when you pushed her top commander off of a balcony when they instructed you to get ready for dinner. Dark and cold, the dungeons echoed with the tortured cries of Minthara's other victims, a symphony of suffering that filled the air with despair. Minthara would often visit you, asking if you had were ready to submit to her wholly and every time you kicked dirt at her, that answer enough.

Days turned into weeks, and your defiance remained unbroken. Every time Minthara descended into the darkness to see you, her presence exuding a blend of anger and twisted affection, she would ask if you were ready to behave.

"Have you learned your lesson yet?" she'd inquire, her voice a cruel mockery of concern.

And every time, you would glare at her, your voice hoarse from yelling abure at the guards but nonetheless unwavering. "Never."

She would sigh, a mix of frustration and amusement in her eyes, before leaving you to the darkness once more. She wouldn't tell you this but she wanted you more to herself than she did you wasting away in the dungeons, but she had a point to make.

The conditions in the dungeon were harsh. The damp, the cold, and the lack of proper food began to take their toll. You grew weaker with each passing day, your body starting to betray you even as your spirit remained defiant. The illness came slowly at first—a persistent cough, chills, and then fever. It grew worse, until you could barely move, your strength sapped by the relentless sickness.

When Minthara came to see you one evening, her expression shifted from cruel amusement to something akin to concern. She stood at the threshold of your cell, her eyes narrowed as she took in your weakened form.

"You look terrible," she said, her tone almost gentle. "Are you ready to behave now? To be treated with the care and comfort you once had?"

You managed a weak laugh, shaking your head. "I'd rather die, iblith."

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she turned and left without another word. The days that followed were a blur of fevered dreams and agonizing pain. At the worst of times you would picture the village burniung and at the best of time you remember when you and MInthara were blissfully happy. Though you were starting to confuse the two.

The cries of the tortured around you became a distant hum, replaced by the overwhelming ache of your own suffering. When Minthara next appeared, you were too weak to even lift your head. She knelt beside you, her fingers cool against your burning skin as she checked your pulse.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered. "You're no use to me dead."

She sighed and stood up, her eyes never leaving your face. You breaths came in choked sputters. Sweat dripped from your brow.

"I can heal you, you know. I can make all this pain go away. All you have to do is obey me, my love. Just submit. Be my wife again."

In your delirium, her words seemed to echo in your mind. The word wife, burned into your brain and the pain, the suffering—it was all too much. You wanted it to stop, you wanted to go back to your fever dream. For the first time, you felt a flicker of desperation, a desire for the agony to end.

As she turned to leave, you pushed your pride aside and found the strength to reach out, your fingers brushing against her boot.

"Wait," you rasped, your voice barely audible. "Please..."

Minthara paused, her eyes widening with surprise and satisfaction. She knelt beside you again, her hand gently lifting your chin so you could meet her gaze.

"Are you ready to behave?" she asked softly. You nodded weakly, the fight draining out of you.

"Yes," you whispered. "Just make it stop. Please."

A triumphant smile spread across her face as she scooped you up effortlessly in her arms, a d as Minthara carried you from the cold, damp dungeon, your body felt like dead weight in her arms.

The journey through the opulent halls of her grand house was a surreal contrast to the darkness you had endured for weeks. Candlelit chandeliers cast flickering shadows on the marble floors, and tapestries depicting her conquests adorned the walls like trophies. You oculdn't help but melt into her arms. The way she held you so securely, the way you nestled into her chest to shy away from the harsh lights of the upper echelons of the house. Despite your weakened state, you couldn't help but notice the admiring glances and whispers of her servants as she passed by, triumphantly displaying her captured prize.

You were taken to a lavishly appointed chamber, where a large marble bath awaited. Minthara gently lowered you into the warm water, the soothing heat seeping into your chilled and feverish body. You leaned back against the edge of the bath, your muscles relaxing for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Minthara knelt beside the bath, her hands cupping water to pour over your hair, washing away the grime and sweat that clung to you. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, her fingers massaging your scalp with a tenderness that seemed at odds with her usual ruthless demeanor.

"I've missed you," she murmured, her voice low and filled with a mixture of possessiveness and longing. "You have no idea how much."

You closed your eyes, the warmth of the water and the rhythmic motion of her hands lulling you into a state of semi-consciousness. The lines between past and present blurred in your fevered mind, memories of happier times intermingling with the pain and suffering of recent weeks.

When the bath was done, Minthara wrapped you in a soft towel and carried you to the large bed at the center of the chamber. She laid you down gently, arranging the pillows behind your head so you could rest comfortably. She sat beside you, her hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your forehead.

"You're going to be alright, my love," she whispered, her voice a soothing murmur as if she hadn't inflicted this upon you. "I'll take care of you."

You looked up at her, seeing a vulnerability in her expression that you hadn't witnessed in a long time. It was a stark reminder of the complexity of her emotions, the love and possessiveness twisted with a fierce determination to keep you by her side.

As you lay there, weak and vulnerable, Minthara continued to tend to you. She fetched a healing potion from a nearby table and gently helped you drink it, the magic within it working to ease your fever and heal your weakened body. Her touch was gentle yet possessive, her fingers lingering on your skin as if afraid you might slip away from her again.

"You are my wife. You belong with me," she murmured, her voice a fervent declaration. "You always have and always will."

Her words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the bond that had once been between you, now twisted and tainted by pain and dominance. Yet, in your decrepit state, her presence offered a strange comfort. You were no longer fighting against her, but surrendering to the inevitability of her love.

As Minthara climbed into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of you, she held you close, her arms a protective cocoon around you. You could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back, a reassurance of her presence.

"I was a mess when I heard you had ran from me," she whispered in confession, her lips brushing against your ear. "But despite all your misgivings, my love for you has only grown. I can assure you, you will never leave my side again."

Minthara pressed a firm kiss against the side of your head and continued ot hold you. You closed your eyes in resignation, exhaustion finally overtaking you. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you saw flashes of the village burning, of the dungeons and the pain. But with every whisper of affesction and possession from Minthara, the memories blurred before being dispelled completely as you finally submitted to slumber.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

You stirred beneath the silk sheets, your sleep fractured by nightmares you couldn’t quite remember upon waking. Night after night, these dreams clawed at your subconscious, filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread and unease.

One particularly restless night, the nightmare was more vivid than ever. You dreamt of dark corridors and whispered voices, of a cruelty that left you breathless with terror. You felt the cold hand of a specter covering your mouth, the oppressive force of its magic twisting your mind and plucking at your emotions like strings on a harp.

You woke with a start, drenched in sweat, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and your breaths came in shallow gasps. Shadowheart, ever alert, was immediately at your side. She gathered you into her arms, holding you close as you sobbed uncontrollably against her chest.

"Shh, my love," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe now, with me."

Despite her comforting words, a gut-wrenching feeling of unease gnawed at the edges of your mind. You couldn’t shake the sensation that something was profoundly wrong, though you couldn’t place what it was. Your memories were a foggy haze, filled with gaps and inconsistencies that you couldn’t quite grasp. Shadowheart's fingers stroked your hair gently, her touch both possessive and reassuring.

"Everything is okay," she whispered. "As long as you stay by my side, nothing can harm you."

Her words, though meant to comfort, felt like a cage, a reminder of a confinement you couldn’t quite remember but instinctively felt. You tried to push the feeling away, to focus on the warmth of her embrace, but your mind kept returning to that sense of flight or fight, that primal instinct screaming that something was amiss.

"Why do I keep having these dreams?" you asked, your voice trembling with confusion and fear. "Why do I feel like this?"

Shadowheart tightened her hold on you, her eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. "I do not know my love," she lied softly. "But I will protect you from those fears. You belong here, with me."

You nodded, trying to absorb her words and let them comfort you. The love you felt for her was undeniable, an all-encompassing emotion that overshadowed the lingering doubts. Yet, the dreams persisted, and so did the feeling of unease, like a dark shadow lurking just out of sight.

"Do you trust me?" Shadowheart asked, her eyes searching yours.

"Yes," you whispered, though the word felt heavy on your tongue.

"Then rest, my love," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I will keep you safe."

With a sigh, you allowed yourself to be lulled by her soft whispers and tender touch. The warmth of her body against yours and the rhythmic motion of her fingers in your hair slowly eased the tension in your muscles. The unease lingered, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t deny the comfort of her presence.

As you drifted back into a fitful sleep, Shadowheart held you tightly, her eyes filled with a possessive determination. She knew the power she held over you, the magic that had twisted your thoughts and memories, binding you to her. And she would use that power to keep you by her side, no matter the cost.

The nights would continue, filled with fragmented dreams and a gnawing sense of unease. But as long as you remained in Shadowheart's arms, you would be safe - you assured yourself. And in the darkness, as sleep claimed you once more, you clung to the love you once felt for her, unaware of the true nature of your captivity, bound by a spell you couldn’t remember but couldn’t escape.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

In the realm Gale had created, a place of grandeur and opulence, you found yourself a minor deity—lesser in power and influence, a mere reflection of Gale’s omnipotence. He had promised you a place beside him, but this was not what you envisioned. Your divine essence was that of a muse, yet not the sweet inspiration of art and creativity. Instead, you embodied a point of fixation and obsession, an eternal prisoner of Gale's ideals, your cage gilded and beautiful, yet suffocating.

Gale often held you in his arms, a possessive embrace that felt both tender and imprisoning. Together, you would listen to the prayers of mortals seeking inspiration, productivity, and more than they deserved. These prayers, driven by greed and selfish desire, seemed to amuse him greatly. He relished the thought that many mortals yearned for you, desired the touch of your divine influence, yet you were his alone.

"Listen to them," Gale would murmur, his voice a smooth blend of affection and pride. "They all want you, but they can never have you. You are mine, forever."

You would nod along, feigning agreement, but your heart ached with every passing moment. You were more than just an object of Gale's obsession, a trophy to be displayed. As you listened to the endless stream of prayers, you began to discern a different kind of plea. Hidden among the voices of greed and ambition were the prayers of those trapped in their own gilded cages—mortals who sought freedom from their obsessors, who yearned to break free from the chains of fixation.

In the quiet moments, when Gale's attention wavered, you would grant these desperate souls the strength they needed. You whispered words of encouragement, sent subtle waves of resolve, and instilled a sense of determination within them. You helped them find the courage to fight for their freedom, to succeed where you could not. Each act of defiance against their imprisoning forces became a silent rebellion, a spark of hope that you nurtured from afar.

Gale, in his ambition and arrogance, never realized the true extent of your influence. He was too fixated on having you in his arms, on possessing you completely. He reveled in the knowledge that you belonged to him, oblivious to the silent rebellion you fostered within the hearts of the mortals.

One evening, as he held you close, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin, you heard the prayer of a young artist, a woman trapped in an abusive relationship with her mentor. Her plea for strength was raw and heartfelt, a cry for liberation. You closed your eyes, focusing your divine power on her, infusing her with the courage she needed to break free.

"What is it, my love?" Gale asked, sensing your distraction.

"Just a prayer," you replied softly, your voice steady. "A plea for inspiration."

He smiled, satisfied, and pulled you closer. "Good. Let them yearn. Let them desire. They will never have what I possess."

As he drifted off to sleep, his grip loosening, you continued to listen to the prayers of the desperate, the trapped, and the yearning. You granted them strength and resolve, knowing that each act of defiance against their obsessions was a victory, a step toward the freedom you could never attain.

Your existence had become a paradox—a muse of fixation and obsession, yet a silent liberator for those who shared your plight. Gale, blinded by his own ambition and desire, never saw the true extent of your power. He believed he had you completely, but in your heart, you knew that your true legacy lay in the strength you bestowed upon others.

And so, you remained in Gale's arms, a gilded prisoner in his realm, but your spirit roamed free, a beacon of hope for those who dared to dream of liberation.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The tavern had become a distant memory, a fleeting glimpse of your former life. Now, you found yourself in a dark, opulent chamber, draped in silks and shadows, a testament to Astarion's newfound power and status. The room was a blend of elegance and darkness, its decor reflecting his taste for the finer things and his ever-present thirst for control. He had claimed you, his most favored spawn, and bestowed upon you the title of his dark consort.

Days blurred into nights as you resisted the monstrous hunger that gnawed at your insides. Astarion indulged your refusal to feed, amused by your stubborn defiance. He offered you the finest blood, collected from the most exquisite of donors, but you turned away each time, determined to cling to the last vestiges of your humanity.

"Such a stubborn little thing," he would murmur, his voice filled with a mixture of irritation and admiration and he would grab your jaw and tilt your head, "But I do love a challenge."

One night, as the full moon cast its eerie light through the tall windows, you found yourself growing weaker. The hunger was a constant, gnawing ache that left you trembling and light-headed. Astarion watched you with a predatory gaze, his patience wearing thin. What was once an amusement turned into an annoyance, you were not fun to play with, collapsed on the floor.

He approached you with a deliberate grace, his movements fluid and precise. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, your weakened state rendering you powerless to resist. Though you tried to protest he simply mocked you and carried on forward. He took you to his throne, an imposing structure of dark wood and velvet, and settled you on his lap. Your head resting against his chest as his cold hands caressed your face, tracing the lines of your jaw with an almost tender touch.

"You've tested my patience long enough, my darling," he said softly, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "If you won't drink from a golden chalice, then perhaps straight from the source will suffice."

Your heart raced as you realized what he intended. "Please, Astarion," you pleaded, your voice a trembling whisper. You tried to get away from him to move, but your hunger strike had led you powerless and Astarion held you in his arms with ease. "Don't do this."

Astarion's lips curled into a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. He beckoned, and a young adult human was brought before you, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and resignation. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, and your resolve wavered.

"Drink," Astarion commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "You need it, and I will not have my consort wasting away."

The human extended their wrist towards you, the pulse of their heartbeat a siren call to your starving senses. You hesitated, but the hunger was too powerful, too overwhelming to resist any longer. With a reluctant sigh, you grasped the offered wrist and sank your fangs into the tender flesh. The taste of warm, rich blood flooded your mouth, and you drank hungrily, your body reviving with every drop.

Astarion watched with a mixture of satisfaction and possessive delight. His hand stroked your hair as you fed, his touch both comforting and possessive.

"That's it, my dear," he cooed, his voice a dark lullaby. "Drink your fill. You are mine, and I will ensure you are always well taken care of."

As you drank, the human's life essence seeping into you, you felt a twisted sense of relief. The hunger was sated, if only temporarily, and the strength began to return to your limbs. But with it came the inescapable knowledge of your predicament, the realization that you were bound to Astarion in a way that went beyond mere affection or loyalty. You were his, and he would never let you go.

When you finally released the human, they unceremoniously crumpled to the floor, quickly dragged off to be sloppy seconds for the others under Astarion's thrall. You tried to get up to move, but a lidded satiation overtook you as your body took in what it had desired for so long. Astarion pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple in a mockery of tenderness.

"See how good it feels to accept your place, my little love?" he murmured. "You belong to me, and I will always take care of you."

Despite the horror of your situation, a part of you couldn't deny the comfort of his embrace, the seductive pull of his dark promise. As you nestled against him, the room fading into a blur of shadows and silks, you wondered how much of yourself you had lost, and how much more you were willing to surrender to the man you once loved, now a godling born of malice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

Days turned into weeks as you settled into the new grove, a pristine yet haunting reflection of the wilds that Halsin now commanded with a fierce and unyielding grip. The routine you adopted was one of quiet resignation, a means of finding solace in the monotony of daily tasks. You busied yourself tending to the grove, your hands working the soil and nurturing the plants that thrived under the druid’s watchful eye. The other druids kept their distance, their silence a tacit acknowledgment of your unique position in Halsin's domain.

Animals, ever-present and vigilant, became your constant companions. Their eyes followed you wherever you went, a silent network of spies ensuring that Halsin always knew your whereabouts. It was a constant reminder of your captivity, their gaze a chain that kept you bound to this new life.

Despite the isolation, you found small moments of escape in the pages of a worn book you had managed to keep hidden. When your chores were done, you would steal away to a secluded meadow, its vibrant flowers and tall grasses offering a brief respite from the ever-watchful eyes of the forest. One afternoon, you lay down in the soft grass, the book resting on your chest as you closed your eyes. The gentle hum of insects and the whisper of the breeze through the trees lulled you into a peaceful slumber.

Hours later, Halsin prowled the grove, a growing sense of unease gnawing at him. He had not seen you for some time, and though his spies assured him you were safe, his heart ached with a fear that you had somehow managed to escape again. His steps quickened, his eyes scanning the surroundings until he finally reached the meadow.

There, nestled among the flowers, he found you. Your face was serene, free from the usual tension and fear that had become your constant companions. Halsin's breath caught in his throat at the sight, a mix of relief and a deep, possessive tenderness washing over him. He approached silently, his movements as fluid and graceful as a predator stalking its prey.

Carefully, he lay down beside you, his arms encircling you with a possessive tenderness. The warmth of his body against yours stirred you from your sleep, and your eyes fluttered open. Panic surged through you as you realized who held you, and you began to struggle against his embrace.

"Hush," Halsin whispered, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "You’re safe, my heart. I’m here."

Your resistance waned as the exhaustion of your efforts and the gentleness of his voice overpowered your will to fight. You settled back into his arms, your body tense but no longer struggling. Halsin’s fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, a touch that was both reassuring and a reminder of his dominance.

"I worry for you," he said softly, his breath warm against your ear. "When I can't find you, my mind races with fears of losing you again."

"You don't own me, Halsin," you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

He sighed, a sound filled with both frustration and affection. "I don’t wish to own you, but to keep you safe. The world is harsh, and I have seen too much destruction to risk losing what I love most."

A heavy silence settled between you, broken only by the distant call of birds and the rustling of leaves. Despite everything, a part of you yearned for the gentle druid you had once known, the man who had loved nature without resorting to violence.

As you lay there, the meadow’s tranquility enveloping you both, Halsin tightened his hold, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "Rest, my love. I will watch over you."

And so, you closed your eyes once more, surrendering to the inevitability of your situation. In his arms, you found a twisted semblance of peace, a fragile illusion of safety that masked the underlying turmoil. The meadow's beauty was a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed Halsin’s heart, and as you drifted back to sleep, the boundaries between love and captivity blurred, leaving you in a liminal space of conflicting emotions and quiet despair.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Did some more Dark!BG3 to warm up my wiritng skills before tackling my inbox. Arranged Marriage! Minthara will be my next piece of own writing up.

Also massive thank you and hello to all of my new followers, I was so worried that going away would cause a quick death to my channel but all the love and support I have been receiving - gods I could cry. Apreciate y'all and hope you enjoyed this - Seluney xox

[bloodiedrogue]

FEAR OF LOSING IT (4)

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you. 

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.” 

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust. 

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan. 

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince. 

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin. 

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire. 

“All by your lonesome?” 

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again. 

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back. 

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you. 

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air. 

“Wanted what?”

“You know.” 

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting. 

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips. 

“What? That I want to fuck you?” 

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch. 

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group. 

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you. 

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left. 

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter. 

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?” 

“Smell w—“

  Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” 

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.” 

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?” 

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half. 

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile. 

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” 

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.” 

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo. 

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows. 

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse. 

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same. 

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.” 

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best. 

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions. 

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out. 

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch. 

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help. 

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?” 

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new. 

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him. 

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons. 

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down. 

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose. 

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero. 

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins. 

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information. 

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.” 

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.” 

“Nope.” 

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum. 

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.” 

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice. 

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable. 

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?” 

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.” 

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat. 

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?” 

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.” 

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?” 

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.” 

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.” 

Lover, huh? 

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose. 

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard. 

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground. 

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done. 

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away. 

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him. 

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised. 

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay. 

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?” 

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath. 

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation. 

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured. 

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through. 

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten. 

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.” 

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you. 

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself. 

“I couldn’t let him take you.” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.” 

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?” 

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

-

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

[im-am-not-a-weenie]

🍓period comfort

This is self indulgent 😃.

Reader is AFAB and I will be using she/her pronouns

shout out to all the girlies who don't like taking medicine and just power through it the cramps.

hinting at period sex with astarion, yknow how it is

spelling errors <3

see end for a/n

Gale, Astarion, halsin,

🍓Gale

you felt like shit. utter shit. if you didn't believe in the gods now you did because you've been praying for them to end your suffering hours ago. you were curled up in a ball in the corner of your tent

"Love, are you in here?'' your pity party was interrupted by your darling boyfriend Gale.

you let out a grunt to signal that you were in fact under the heap of blankets in the corner, you could hear a faint chuckle and footsteps nearing you

Gale crouched down and his knees gave a loud pop which made you smile a bit. "are you ok?" he asked gently. you shook your head under the blankets. "can I see you please?" his voice soft and words kind

with a huff you peaked out through the blankets. "there she is" Feeling his hand tuck a piece of your hair away you looked up. "what seems to be the matter?"

"I'm dying" you groaned. he immediately removed all your blankets and began scanning your body for injuries. "what's hurt, are you ok. you should tell me when you get hurt. or at least see Shadowheart or Halsin-." he rambles on

grabbing his worried hand and bringing it up for a kiss getting him to stop his ramble. " I'm fine gale, is just my period" That got him to stop, "oh" his face flushed, and just looked at you for a few seconds

"Why didn't you say that" he left the tent. before you could even get up to check on him he was back with a small basket filled with different plants food and canteens

you made a face of disbelief "Where did you get all of that on such short notice" The only answer you received was "I'm a wizard" he started to pile the blankets back on you but this time joining you in the pile

"eat this" he gave you a purple looking plant "it'll help your cramps " he said gently, you just shook your head. "cmon it'll make you feel better" he prompted." "I know," you said with a shrug and just snuggled into him

"Dont want icky medicine" he wrapped his arms around you pulling you close "Then what do you want" his hand started to play with your hair. "you" he let out a soft chuckle "That I can do"

you lay there in comfortable silence before Gale interrupted it. "you know I will make you eat that later right." you giggled "I'd like to see you try Wizard Boy."

spoiler alert, you ate the plant

🍓Astarion

let's be honest. he could care less (lies). astarion is one of those people who passively aggressively takes care of you

in a similar fashion you were in your tent curled up on the floor before astarion rudely barged in. "what are you still doing in bed." he asked dryly. you just groaned.

rolling his eyes he walked over and nudged you with his foot "Get up." looking up at him with a baffled expression you just stared at him "Did you just kick me?"

he scoffed "Darling I nudged you, you'll see kicking if you stay in bed any longer" he threatened with a smirk. "fuck off astarion i don't have to deal-" you cut yourself off with a groan as you doubled over and clutching your abdomen.

"stop being dramatic. it's not my fault you stayed up with Karlch and Wyll all night. you gave yourself the hangover now deal with it- why does it smell like blood in here." he looked confused and looked back down to you noticing how you clutching your lower stomach. it took a minute but finally, he connected the dots.

he sighed sitting on the ground and pulled you into his lap. "oh my poor dear." it was one of those rare occasions where his voice was soft and genuine

his hand trailed down and rested on your lower stomach. "does it hurt right here?" he asked softly as his other hand played with your hair. after answering with a simple nod he started to softly massage there trying to relieve some pressure.

"y'know," he said with a mischievous smile "you smell delicious right now. Gasping you hit him playfully "astarion." he giggled and held you tight against him. "come now dear we both know it wouldn't be the first time" he pressed a kiss on the top of your head

rolling your eyes fondly you giggled with him. "maybe later when I'm not feeling like I'm being stab." "of course darling, just think of it like an extra meal for me" that earned him another playful hit.

🍓Halsin

walking. sooooooooooo much walking, when will we stop walking. you think to yourself, you and your companions have been walking for almost the whole day, and for what. to look for a stupid necklace for a stupid-

"my heart are you alright" Internal monologue was interrupted by your mountain of a boyfriend Halsin. "No, I'm alright" quickly dismissing his worry. you didn't really want to do this quest but you knew the sooner you got it done the sooner you could make camp

he looked unsure but nodded making sure to slow his strides to walk with you. you felt his hand grasp yours. everything was fine until it wasn't, you felt a sharp pain in your uterus. you inhaled a deep breath and stopped moving, closing your eyes and trying to collect yourself

halsin stopped to observe you "Are....are you sure you're feeling well?" you felt a hand on your shoulder. your eyes met his, you gave him a reassuring smile "It's just cramps bear, I'll survive"

he looked at you worried "You started your cycle?" it made you laugh a tad. "no, not yet."

"then why-" "Halsin my love, I get cramps before during, and after. I'm fine" you explained calmly. another painful wave washed over you. this time Halsin picked you up and started walking in the opposite direction of anyone else

"Not that I'm complaining but what are you doing?" you giggled at the sudden lift. no matter how big you were Halsin made you feel small, but in a good way

"I'm taking you to camp," he said simply and left no room for arguments 'if you are suffering I'd rather you suffer in my arms in our bedroll' he kissed the top of your head.

you felt safe and loved, the rhythm of Halsin's steps made you drift to sleep. when you awoke you were wrapped up tightly in Halsin's arms, your bodies tangled together you smiled and kissed Halsin's cheek before falling asleep again

hey. i did it i posted on time. anyway, i hope yall liked this! it was purely self-indulgent. also thank you for all the love of my last post! I've never gotten that many notes before. my inbox is open for requests. and i also can write for other characters bg3. <3

[toournextadventure]

movie night vii

Summary: Ghostface got you, and Tara isn't going to let him go without a fight. No one hurts someone she loves. It's time to end this.

Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: Swearing, Scream typical violence, wound descriptions, murder, grief, mention of Scream V events Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

You weren’t answering your phone.

Tara had been calling you nonstop from the hospital to Gale’s apartment, and you weren’t answering.

“It’s probably fine,” Chad said as he struggled to catch up.

As much as she wanted to believe him, he was wrong. He was so very wrong and Tara couldn’t even string her thoughts into a coherent sentence for long enough to tell him why. Why her heart had tried to jump out of her throat when she saw the text from you that simply said “gf here.” She couldn’t explain the icy fear that froze in her veins.

Why couldn’t she run faster?

Tara’s heart dropped to her stomach the moment she saw those red and blue flashing lights. No no no. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around or answer. Her eyes were glued to Gale. Only Gale. Why was she alone? Where were you?

Gale’s tears and hyperventilating did nothing to ease the lump in her throat as she got closer.

Her eyes surveyed the entire scene before her. There was no ambulance sitting in the street, waiting to take an injured person to the hospital. An injured you. Police were just milling around, twiddling their thumbs until someone told them what to do. The only one who was attempting to help was Detective Bailey, but even he wasn’t doing much.

“Where are they?” Tara asked, finally turning to look at Gale.

She blinked a few times and let out a shaky inhale and exhale.

“Gale,” Tara said again, more forceful, “where are they?”

Her inability to focus or meet Tara’s eyes forced the air out of her lungs. Why couldn’t she look at her? What had happened to you that she didn’t want to admit? That she couldn’t admit? Gale needed to say something and she needed to say something now before Tara lost her mind.

“Gale.”

Everyone turned to face the voice. Alfie was doing an awkward jog over to where they were all standing. Tara studied his face, looking for any indication of what had happened to you. If someone didn’t fill her in soon she was going to combust. Where were you?

“Alfie what-”

“-They’re headed to the hospital,” Alfie interrupted her with his hand held up in a pitiful attempt to keep her calm.

You were headed to the hospital? That meant you were alive, right? Surely they wouldn’t have bothered taking you if you weren’t alive, that wouldn’t make any sense. Oh god, Tara’s mind was running rampant. How bad had it been? Would you be able to recover quickly? What if it was worse than they thought and they couldn’t save you?

“How bad is it?” Sam asked.

Everyone slowly turned to face Gale.

“It’s-” she swallowed harshly, “-it’s bad.”

It was only then that Tara noticed the blood soaking Gale’s clothes. Her shirt, her pants, her hands. Oh god, was it yours? It had to be, Gale seemed untouched. Tara’s hands shook even as she did her best to clench them into fists. That wasn’t enough to stop the unbearable ache of the muscles in her forearms.

He had made you bleed.

She was going to kill him.

“Sam.” Danny was next to appear, instantly going to Sam’s side and checking her over. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Chad asked. Tara had almost forgotten he had come along.

“I’m Y/N’s emergency contact,” he said. “Came as soon as I got the call, but are you okay?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said quickly, “we were at the hospital.”

His hands were all over Sam, and Tara wanted nothing more than for him to leave. She didn’t care about Sam’s little boy toy, and he certainly wasn’t doing them any favours. He needed to leave so they could focus on the real issue at hand. He was nothing more than a liability at that point.

“Good,” your Pop said as he approached; he seemed to be far more relaxed about the situation. At least outwardly. “You’re all here.”

“Don, I didn’t-”

“-It’s okay,” he interrupted Gale quickly, “I know.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before looking at Tara. “You all need to follow Tony to the safe house.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I kill that motherfucker,” she said.

“You’re going to a safe house,” he insisted. Actually, it sounded more like an order, just spoken with a more gentle tone. “No one else is getting hurt, you understand?”

No. No she didn’t understand. How could he be so calm when you were probably dying in the back of an ambulance? You were his child, how could he be so reserved? Surely he had a plan, he had to. She certainly did. She was going to find that bastard and kill him. Nothing drawn out, no, quick and efficient and gruesome.

“Aren’t you going after him?” Tara asked. Your Pop just gave her a sad look. “He tried to kill Y/N.”

“I know what he tried to do,” he said quickly. “I’m making sure it doesn’t happen to any of you.”

“But what about-”

“-you might not understand this just yet, little lady,” your Pop said, quickly shutting Tara up, “but Vitales do not charge in without a plan.”

“So you have a plan?” Tara asked eagerly. Someone’s hand fell onto her shoulder and squeezed gently. Judging by the size, it was Chad.

“I do,” Pop said with a simple nod. He let his finished cigarette fall from his lips before pulling out another one and lifting his lighter. “That plan involves you going to the safe house and waiting.”

Tara groaned and turned away. How could he expect her to just walk away? To hide away while you were dying and the one who tried to kill you was still running free? No, no that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way in hell she was just going to stay in someone else’s safe house. Carpenters didn’t hide.

“Do you understand me, Tara?” Pop asked, his brow raised and that cigarette hanging haphazardly from his lips.

“Yes sir,” she said even as her mind continued to run rampant.

Pop stepped forward and lightly placed a big, callused hand on her cheek. “I promise you, we’ll take care of it.”

His kindness was almost unsettling. How on earth did your family manage to be so kind when she could assume what they did for a living? She wasn’t stupid, she knew you weren’t accountants. It was a horrible lie, and none too convincing either. So how could your father - and your family - be so kind and gentle? 

And how could he tell her that she couldn’t go after Ghostface? If anything, she was the professional Ghostface killer. She and Sam were the ones who had killed Richie and Amber. When had your family ever dealt with Ghostface? Sure, you had held your own twice, but clearly the third time was not the charm. They had some nerve to keep her hidden while they took their sweet time.

“Go with Tony,” Pop said, giving the most reassuring pat to Tara’s cheek. “We’ll take it from here.”

With that, Pop leaned forward and gave Gale a kiss on the cheek before guiding her away. She was walking on shaky legs, and if his arm hadn’t been around her waist Tara had no doubt she would have collapsed. What had happened to you that had caused so much mental anguish to her? Tara assumed it was close to how she had been when she discovered Dewey had been killed.

“I want to see Y/N,” Tara said, turning around to finally look at everyone. “I’m not going anywhere until I see them.”

“I know which hospital they’re at,” Danny said quickly.

“I can have Tony meet us there,” Alfie chimed in. “We can go to the safe house when we know they’re okay.”

“Let’s go,” Sam said before Tara had a chance to answer. “It’s too dark to stay outside.”

Everyone mumbled their agreements before starting the walk. Thankfully the hospital wasn’t too many blocks away. Danny had his arm around Sam’s waist, seemingly holding her up, and whispering in her ear nonstop. It would have been cute in any other situation. Not that Tara was sold on him yet, but Sam seemed comfortable and that was the important part.

But she was too busy plotting her revenge to focus on how cute her older sister was being. Tara needed to see you, that was before anything else and it wasn't up for debate. After she was sure you would pull through? Oh it was on, Ghostface had better start praying that she didn't find them. If given half the chance, she would make him regret every moment of his life that led up to the moment he had attacked you.

"They'll be okay," Chad said, pulling Tara out of her bloody and violent imagination. "They're too stubborn to die."

"I thought you hated them," Tara mumbled as she shoved her hands into her pockets. "Why would you care if they were okay?"

"I don't hate them," Chad said quickly, "I just didn't trust them."

"And now?" She asked.

"I mean," he exhaled softly, "they saved Anika and Mindy." He stepped sideways to avoid running into a stranger that refused to move. "And they kept Gale safe."

Yeah you did. You did all of that even though you knew Sam and Chad weren’t your biggest fans. There was nothing any of them could say or do to change the fact that you had put yourself in danger for them not once, not twice, but three times. On your date at her apartment, in your apartment, and just now in Gale’s apartment.

Maybe you just shouldn’t be trusted in apartments, that always seemed to be the location where you got most hurt.

The hospital was cold; it wasn’t the same as when she had initially been there to visit Anika. There had been tension, of course, but everyone had been happy and laughing and having a good time. A feeling of comfort and safety surrounded them and almost made them feel like they could recover from anything.

This was different. Each sound and smell assaulted Tara's senses until her hands started to shake and her palms grew sweaty. Did they have you in a room yet, waiting anxiously for someone you knew to appear? Or were you still unconscious, unaware of anything that had transpired since the attack? Truthfully, Tara didn’t think she liked either answer.

“The hell are you all doin’ here?”

Your sister Mercy looked furious as she practically stormed over to where everyone was standing. Not that Tara could blame her, the entire situation probably had her on edge. And if she was one of the staff having to take care of you? Oh, there would be no need for explanation.

“Listen-”

“-I’m not listenin’ to shit,” she interrupted Alfie. “Pop said you were going to the safe house.”

“Tara wanted to see Y/N,” Sam said quickly. “And then we were heading over.”

“Well you can’t,” Mercy said with a rushed exhale and a shake of her head. The momentary silence settled in Tara’s bones. “They’re still in surgery.”

“Still?” Tara blurted out.

“They only got here about 15 minutes ago, T,” Mercy said, “of course they’re still in there.”

“How bad is it?” Chad asked. His hand fell to Tara’s shoulder again. She knew he was trying his best to comfort her, but it really wasn’t working. If anything, she wanted him to get away; she didn’t want anyone touching her.

Mercy sighed before shifting her weight to her other hip. “Lacerations to the face, and bullet fragments to the shoulder.”

The hospital started to tilt under Tara’s feet while they all continued talking, but she couldn’t hear them. It was like they were speaking underwater. You had been shot? They had gotten your face? How bad was it? Her mouth went dry at the thoughts that ran rampant in her mind.

“Tara.” A familiar hand cupped her jaw. Sam. “You okay?”

No. No she wasn’t okay. How could she be? It was hard enough to deal with Ghostface on his own. It brought back memory after memory of Amber. All those dates, all those spilled secrets, shared kisses. And she had turned out to be nothing more than a fake, a murderer, someone who would’ve traded Tara in for her 5 minutes of fame.

Add onto that the fact that you were laying on some cold operating table, all alone? Because of her?

“Tara?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Sam’s thumb brushed gently across her cheekbone before she pulled away. “Is there anywhere we can sit and wait?”

“I’ll take you somewhere quiet,” Mercy said softly. Still shocking, coming from someone of your family.

The little room wasn’t too far away from where they had come into the hospital. It seemed private, at least compared to the usual waiting room that was wide open for the rest of the hospital to see. At least there was a door in this one, and a small coffee pot and a basket of snacks over on a table in the corner. Simple, but Tara could appreciate it. It was the most homey space in the unsettling environment.

“I’ll come get you when I know more,” Mercy said before leaving, closing the door with a gentleness that made Tara’s skin crawl.

It felt like hours before Tony came in, slipping through the door like a shadow, clinging to the walls like he wasn’t supposed to be there. He sat down dutifully beside Tara, not too close to encroach on her space but still far too close for comfort. She knew he was only there to make sure she actually went back to the safe house afterwards.

Your family was a bunch of bastards.

“Tara?”

Her eyes flew open, the world seeming hazy before she could blink the sleep away. She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she had been there, but she had been waiting for something. You. She had been waiting for you. Tara pushed herself up from the chair, standing on shaky legs for only a moment before walking mindlessly to the door where Mercy was waiting.

“How are they?” Tara asked before Mercy could even finish shutting the door behind them.

“Restin’,” she said with a subconscious nod.

“But alive?”

“Alive,” she reiterated with a small smile. “But there’s a lot of rehab in their future.”

“Better than the alternative,” Tara sighed, chewing her bottom lip in an attempt to feel something other than immense guilt.

It wasn’t working.

“Tara.” She tried not to flinch when Mercy’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Y/N would want you to be in the safe house.”

“They nearly got killed because of me,” Tara said quietly. “I can’t just let that go.”

“They nearly got killed because of that rat bastard,” Mercy said with a surprising amount of calm in her voice. “Not because of you.”

“But-”

“-do you think they would want you gettin’ yourself killed for this?” She asked. Tara froze. “Because they wouldn’t.”

“I can’t sit by and do nothing,” Tara said.

“You’re not,” Mercy shrugged. “You’re sittin’ safe.” She smiled and tilted her head slightly. “Isn’t that the best kind of revenge? Sittin’ nice and comfy while they get hunted down like the rat they are?”

Well. When she put it that way, maybe it didn’t sound quite so bad. And Tara wouldn’t lie, she was tired. She wanted to feel safe for once, not looking over her shoulder every second of the day because there might be someone following her. It was a miserable existence and she didn’t know how much longer she could do it.

“Okay,” Tara mumbled to herself. When Mercy didn’t answer, she looked up and spoke a bit louder, “Okay.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said with a toothy grin that was almost a perfect duplicate of yours. “Let’s get you guys somewhere safe.”

Everyone seemed to already have some sort of idea of what was going on when Tara and Mercy got back into the waiting room. Sam was quick to rush over to Tara’s side, checking her over even though they both knew Mercy wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her. It was a habit. It was something Tara was getting tired of being a habit.

“Who all is comin’ with me?” Tony asked.

“I’ll go back to Mindy’s and Anika’s room,” Chad said. “It’s plenty safe up there.”

“You should stay,” Sam told Danny.

“Sam-”

“-Y/N would like a familiar face when they wake up,” she continued. “And you’re not Woodsboro.”

“Neither are they,” Danny said instantly, gesturing with his head to where all of your siblings were huddled up.

Tara and Sam turned their heads slowly to look at them. They were all talking with each other, worry etched onto each of their faces. She knew exactly how they felt; she had felt the same just knowing Sam was in danger back in Woodsboro. But to know that you had actually been hospitalised for it? Was it how Sam had felt when she was attacked last year?

“They’ve been through enough,” Sam said before turning back to face Danny.

“And I haven’t?” Danny asked.

“Never trust the love interest,” she said with a shrug.

Tara could see how much it hurt Sam to say such a thing. But it was the smart move; after all, both of their previous love interests had turned into Ghostface. They didn’t exactly have the best track record. And with you being unconscious and hospitalised, you were out for the count. That just left Danny.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Tara chimed in. She desperately wanted to take the heat off of Sam, at least as much as she could. “Better luck next time.”

“Tara,” Sam whispered, but didn’t really do anything to actually silence her. She looked back at Danny. “I’ll see you when this is over.”

“Okay,” he said with a soft sigh. “Okay, then I’ll see you soon.”

Tara turned her head when he leaned closer to Sam. She didn’t want to see it, but she could hear them kiss. Sure, she loved Sam, but she didn’t need to hear what all went on with her boy toy. Although she supposed Sam did have to see you half-naked in her living room a few nights ago, so maybe this was the least of her worries.

When Danny walked past her, patting her forcefully on the shoulder, she finally looked back at Sam. There was a resignation on her face that Tara hated to see, even though she would bet she mirrored the look. They were both tired. They were both just far too tired. It was time for a much needed vacation. Maybe somewhere warm.

“You two ready?” Tony asked, finally coming over after confirming he wouldn’t be interrupting something.

“Let’s go,” Sam said with a definitive nod.

“We’ll call when Y/N wakes up,” Alfie said when they passed by, but no one else had anything else to add.

It was practically a silent trip to wherever the safe house was. Almost as soon as Tony led them out of the hospital, he guided them into what looked like an abandoned alley before ushering them into a hidden nook that led to a tunnel. Tara hadn’t explored much of New York, but she knew it wasn’t common knowledge that there were these tunnels all over the city. Right? If it were, everyone would be using them.

There was something utterly fascinating about the instinctual way Tony navigated through the tunnels. If it had been up to Tara, she would’ve gotten lost within 5 minutes tops. But Tony? He seemed to know every turn like the back of his hand. Was that how you had navigated them through when you took them to your family’s house the other day? 

Had it really only been a day or so ago? It was hard to believe, given the amount of things that had happened since then. Even harder to believe that it hadn’t been all that long ago since your date at her apartment. Maybe there was something to be said about the fact she was so worried about you after what was, technically, only one date.

You must have hypnotised her or something. It was the only logical explanation.

“Right through here,” Tony said as he stopped in front of what looked like the most useless, broken down door Tara had ever seen.

“You guys are so sketchy,” she mumbled to herself, but she still didn’t waste any time in opening the door and stepping through.

“I know,” he said softly as he closed the door behind the three of them.

It was a rather nice looking room, Tara wouldn’t hesitate to admit. It was only a singular room, but it was rather spacious for the circumstances. There was a set of bunk beds against the far wall, a small living room with a couch and TV, and even a tiny kitchenette in the corner. A bit nicer than most studio apartments in the above ground, Tara noted.

“The kitchen is stocked,” Tony said as he walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinet doors to show the excessive amounts of food. “And thousands of movies downloaded and ready to watch.”

“Legally downloaded?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve got everything you need to last a few days.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Tara asked. “I don’t like just sitting here.”

“Pop has a plan,” he said. “Shouldn’t take more than two, maybe three days.”

“That’s too long,” Tara said with a shake of her head. “Something else could happen in that time.”

“We’ve never failed a plan yet, Tara,” he said with a kind smile that was almost disturbing. “Don’t plan on starting now.”

“Just let them do it,” Sam whispered even as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“We’re professionals,” Tony said, now his smile turning a little too eager. A little too sadistic.

“And someone is watching Y/N?” Tara asked.

There was no doubt in her mind that you would still be a target. Even though Ghostface had attacked everyone in your apartment, you were the one coming out with nearly all the injuries. She wouldn’t dismiss Anika and Mindy’s injuries, but you seemed to be the one that was targeted. If you were left alone in that hospital, he could get to you in an instant.

Oh god.

“Mercy and Joel are up there,” Tony said quickly. “They won’t even be able to think without someone watching.”

It wasn’t enough. Tara trusted your family, sure, but two people? It wasn’t enough, even if it was your family. You were all more than trained for the situation, she knew it, but it wasn’t enough. Ghostface was smart; too smart. He could probably outsmart your entire family with barely a second thought.

But she supposed it was good enough, so she nodded at Tony once before looking around. She needed a distraction.

“Ma will be down first thing in the morning with some breakfast,” he said before backing away to the singular door that didn’t look quite so broken from this side. “If there’s any news, she’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. Thankfully. Because Tara couldn’t get herself to say anything in return.

Tony bid his goodbye before leaving, and Tara was finally left alone with her thoughts. She knew Sam wanted to talk with her; they were rarely alone anymore and she was far too nosey to just let Tara think without interruption. But she didn’t have the energy anymore. Not for that night.

“Want one of the beds?” Sam asked when Tara still hadn’t moved. “Or the couch?”

“Couch works,” Tara said softly with a subconscious nod of her head.

“Come on,” Sam said just as softly as she reached over to grab Tara’s hand and lead her to the couch.

Tara let herself fall back while Sam moved around the makeshift living room, looking for… something. She didn’t really know and, quite frankly, didn’t really care. After all, what was there to care about? Someone else had gotten hurt, and someone else was taking care of it. All she had to do was sit there, behave, and wait for the situation to resolve itself.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She wondered if you were okay. Maybe you had woken up already and were laying there with your family. They would surely take care of you, right? Of course they would, they were your family and they loved you. She wondered if you would text her, let her know you were okay. Maybe say something ridiculous just to ease the tension.

The TV flickered on and Sam nudged Tara aside with her knee before also falling to the couch. Without even an ounce of hesitation, Tara leaned over until she could lay her head in Sam’s lap. It didn’t take long before she felt Sam’s fingers running through her hair, scratching her scalp as she flipped through movies.

“You care about them,” Sam said slowly. Softly. Gently. 

Yes I do.

“I just don’t like people getting hurt because of me,” Tara answered with a shrug.

“We both know that’s not all it is,” Sam continued. Her fingers never stopped scratching Tara’s head even as she finally decided on a movie.

The Godfather. How appropriate.

“I just…”

Tara let her voice trail off into nothing. She just what? Even she didn’t know how she felt about you. Annoyance was certainly one of those feelings, but there was something more. It was so difficult to tell if it was just a fascination, maybe even an infatuation. But she didn’t trust herself to “like” anyone again. Not after Amber. You were a distraction from the pain and nothing else.

All those repressed feelings started to bubble up at just the mere thought of Amber again. Feelings of guilt because she had no idea of Amber’s double life. No idea that she would have even thought about prolonging the effects of Stab on Woodsboro. Then there was the overwhelming anger. Anger because how dare she try to use her and Sam as pawns in her game? How dare she use Tara and throw her away like she was nothing?

“They’re not Amber,” Sam said, almost as if she could read Tara’s mind. And maybe she could. Or maybe she could see all the reactions on her face that she wasn’t bothering to hide. “I can tell that much.”

“How?” Tara asked. “I knew Amber for ages and still couldn’t tell.”

“I’ve seen how they look at you,” Sam said with a shrug and quickly looked back up at the TV. “And unlike Amber, they let themselves get attacked three separate times for you.”

“Don’t put it that way,” Tara groaned. She brought her hands up to cover her face.. “It makes me feel bad.”

“All I’m saying,” Sam said quickly, “is they’re different.” Tara finished dragging her hands down her face until she could look at Sam. “And if you like them, then I can tolerate them too.”

“How generous of you,” Tara said.

“I still think they’re stupid enough to get you both killed though,” Sam continued. “And not even in a nefarious way.”

“Think they’d get a piano dropped on them?” Tara asked; she didn’t even bother hiding her little smile.

“Like Wile E. Coyote,” Sam instantly replied. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“You’re a dick,” Tara said, finally letting a small laugh slip past her lips.

“It’s late,” Sam said after the laughter died down and the movie was barely audible in the background. “Get some sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

“Wake me if anything happens?” Tara asked.

“Of course,” Sam said with a smile that reminded Tara of her mother back when she was still capable of being a mother. A comforting smile that warmed her from the inside out and instilled a certain safety that no one else could really give her.

No one except you.

“Good night, Sam,” Tara mumbled, turning to lay on her side as she kept her head in Sam’s lap.

“Good night, Tara,” Sam said quietly right before Tara finally let the day settle on her and put her to sleep.

It felt like only moments before Tara felt Sam flinch underneath her. She sat up quickly, turning her head every which way even as her eyes refused to blink away the sleep. What had happened? Sam had flinched, had someone come in? She could hear someone walking around and setting things down, had someone snuck up on them?

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Ma’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. Just Ma. “I hope you don’t mind, I let you sleep in.” Ma is safe. “You both looked so exhausted.”

She finally managed to get the sleep out of her eyes and take in her surroundings once again. Sam was trying to act like she hadn’t been sleeping, even though it was more than clear that she had been. Not that anyone could blame her, it had been a long few days. There was nothing wrong with her getting some sleep.

Ma was still standing in the kitchenette, rummaging around and setting things out. If Tara looked a little closer, she noticed the entire array of food she was warming up and perfecting. Had she brought an entire family’s worth of food just for lunch? Actually, that probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Tara may have only met your Ma once, but she knew a homemaker when she saw one.

“Come over here and eat while it’s hot,” Ma said, “and I’ll fill you in.”

Tara and Sam gave each other a single look before standing up and making their way to the little two-person table. Ma had already made them their plates and set them down before quickly following with coffee and orange juice. It would have been enough to make Tara feel a little guilty if her stomach hadn’t decided at that moment to air its grievances at the lack of food lately.

“Y/N woke up a few hours ago,” Ma said once they had both started eating. Her hip rested against the counter. “Still a bit groggy, but otherwise okay.”

Tara nearly choked on her coffee. You were awake? That was a good sign, right? It meant you were going to make it, at least for now. That was a positive. But how else were you feeling? Mercy had mentioned lacerations to the face. How bad were they? Would you still look the same? Were you going to be okay?

“Any news on Ghostface?” Sam asked, acting as if Tara hadn’t nearly drowned in her own coffee.

“Not yet,” Ma said with a shrug. “But the boys said they’re close.”

“How do they know?” Tara asked, her voice croaky and weak. It was pathetic. Stupid coffee.

“They know,” Ma said without a hint of doubt. “Trust ‘em.”

She didn’t. Not really, at least. It wasn’t personal, but she could be forgiven for not entirely trusting people that she had no proof for. Not that she thought your family were liars, or incapable, or anything else. But she had proven time and time again that she could handle Ghostface and your family hadn’t. It was just the principle of the thing.

Ma didn’t take much longer to fill them in and tell them goodbye. She had mentioned someone else would stop by later that evening to fill them in and bring dinner, but otherwise they had the house - room? - to themselves. And as much as Tara didn’t want to be left alone, she was almost thankful for the peace and quiet.

The rest of the day and evening went off without a hitch. Tara and Sam watched far too many movies that were… not good, and played some of the board games that were left. Monopoly hadn’t gone well and had nearly ended in a brawl before they quickly called it a truce and put it away. No more Monopoly, that was the final decision of the night.

Mitch came by later that night with homemade pizza and little news of the outside world. Mindy and Anika were doing well, nothing new to report aside from the fact Mindy was starting to get stir crazy. Which was pretty accurate for her, the Carpenters wouldn’t deny it. You were also going stir crazy, apparently, and were on the verge of either fighting or flirting with every nurse that came into your room.

Tara wasn’t even upset. She had seen how you flirted with your brothers’ girls; this was on par for you.

Even though Mitch tried to prolong his stay and find something to do, Tara and Sam told him to go home and get some rest. He was sweet, probably one of the outwardly nicest ones of your bunch, but even they could see the exhaustion plain on his face. There was barely enough energy for him to argue once before he conceded and bid them goodnight.

There was no effort to stay up late and watch movies or delay the inevitable. They were tired, they were full, they finally felt like they could slow down and rest. At least Tara did, and she assumed Sam was on the same page considering she could also barely keep her eyes open. The bunk bed stayed unused as they made a small pallet on the floor in front of the still-playing TV and fell asleep.

When Tara awoke the next morning, it was to hushed whispers. She knew Sam’s voice like the back of her hand, but the other voice was still new. Although when Tara sat up and looked into the kitchen, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Danny sitting across from Sam, his hands over hers like he was trying to comfort her.

“Morning,” Tara said just loud enough to make them both jump. Good. She hoped they felt a little guilty for waking her from the first peaceful night’s sleep in weeks.

“Danny brought breakfast,” Sam said.

“Thought we told you to stay away,” Tara said as she pushed herself to her feet. She was a little unsteady, but quickly recovered and made her way into the kitchen; she supposed he could be forgiven, considering he had brought donuts.

“I was worried,” he said with a shrug. “And if Y/N tries to sneak out one more time, someone is going to strap them to the bed.”

“So they’re doing okay?” Tara asked as she took a donut from the box. Blueberry; your favourite.

Nothing more than a coincidence.

“A little too okay,” he said. “Mercy is on the verge of keeping them sedated until they’re more than, you know, two days healed.”

Tara nodded to herself while she continued to munch on her donut. It was a little too sweet and a little too thick. But she supposed that was probably what you enjoyed so much about them. Did you like sweet things? If so, it didn’t explain why you liked her. She was anything but sweet.

She grabbed the nearest glass of orange juice - probably Sam’s - and walked back over to the couch to sit down while she continued to think. It wasn’t smart for her to let you invade all of her thoughts, not when there was still a killer on the loose. A killer that you hadn’t managed to stop and that most likely had an accomplice. She didn’t have time to sit there and think about your smile or your preferences for donuts.

Wait. Your smile?

Oh god, she hated you.

The longer Danny sat at the table with Sam, the more the atmosphere felt… wrong. Tara couldn’t quite put her finger to it. Nothing was going on, it was actually the most relaxed situation she had been in in months. A year, if she really thought about it. The TV was going, Sam and Danny were acting like lovesick puppies, she had a belly full of food.

She couldn’t put her finger on it.

A creak came from the door, and Tara didn’t even bother looking behind her. After all, why should she? The only ones who could find this place were your family. There was no doubt that no one else would have any idea even of just the tunnels underneath the streets, let alone finding the safe room that, surely, couldn’t have been the only one.

Wait. That wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t just your family…

“Hello Sam.”

Every cell in Tara’s body froze. Now that. That was what was wrong. She knew that voice. It haunted her every dream, every thought, every waking moment. A voice that reminded her of Amber, of Richie, of being alone and knowing that he was going to win because of course he was, he was a cult classic icon.

Tara looked at the doorway before she could convince her body to stand up. Two Ghostfaces stood in front of the door as it swung shut, far too gently for the situation. Her eyes stayed locked to the two while she maneuvered herself around the couch, using it as a buffer on her way to where Sam and Danny were now standing.

“Lovely to see you here, Tara,” one of the Ghostfaces said. It was almost more terrifying to not know which one was talking.

“How did you get here?” Sam asked. Tara wasn’t looking at her, but felt her arm reach out and grab Tara’s forearm.

It hurt.

“Just like you,” Ghostface said. “We had a guide.”

Flashbacks of Amber ran through Tara’s mind. The room started to look like it was on a boat, rocking back and forth without giving her any chance of staying still. Someone had betrayed her again. How could this keep happening, why couldn’t anyone just let her live?

“The last Ghostface that cornered us didn’t have such a good time,” Sam said. ��You might want to reconsider.”

“Do you want to tell her?” Ghostface said. “Or should we?”

What? Who were they talking to? Tell Sam what? Tara’s face pulled into a frown as she looked back and forth between everybody. Two Ghostfaces, one Sam, one Danny. What the hell were they even going on about? Maybe these two weren’t as smart as the other ones. Which Tara could’ve picked up on her own, but she had given them the benefit of the doubt.

Everyone remained silent, staring at each other. It almost felt like the entire room was daring someone to speak up, either to explain or to taunt. If it were up to Sam or Tara, she knew they would have taunted the Ghostfaces into making a stupid decision. All of them tended to have a bit of an ego problem, so it should have been easy enough.

“Fine,” Ghostface said. “We’ll make the first move.”

Tara’s entire body tensed to the point of pain. Her knees locked in place and she knew even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have moved. If they were going to come at her, she wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough. That old ache in her thigh came back as the image of Amber snapping her leg flashed behind her eyes.

Both Ghostfaces lifted their hands and Tara only thought of you. Of you laying in that hospital bed, completely unaware of the fact that you wouldn’t be getting a second date. There was nothing in the room to keep Tara safe, and she knew she couldn’t overpower the both of them. Not at once. She couldn’t even let you know.

But they didn’t reach for weapons like Tara had thought they would. No, they just reached up and grabbed their masks, pushing them back over their head until the hoods fell off and she could see their faces. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Hey Tara,” Ethan said with a smile and a friendly wiggle of his fingers.

“You’re Tara?” The other guy asked in a posh accent that reminded Tara of someone with money. She didn’t recognise him at all. “Y/N never shut up about you.”

He knew you?

“Ethan?” Sam asked. Tara still couldn’t bring herself to look away from the Ghostfaces.

“It’s not really what it looks like,” he said, his smile never leaving.

“It’s not?” Tara asked. “Because it looks like you’re the one who’s been hunting us.”

“Not you,” the other guy said before Ethan even had a chance to open his mouth. “Notice you never got hurt?”

“I don’t even know you,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Oh, right,” he said. He rubbed his gloved palms against his thighs before stepping forward and extending his hand. “I’m Garret.”

“I’m not shaking your hand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

Tara knew that name…

“Garret as in Y/N’s roommate?” Tara finally asked, looking back at the guy.

“The very same,” he said with his own cheeky grin.

Your roommate. The one you had lived with for years, if your account was anything to go by. He was Ghostface? Surely he had to have known he was going after you, no one was that stupid. It didn’t make any sense. He looked far too happy and…

He had a giant bruise on the right side of his head.

“You’re the one who broke into Y/N’s apartment,” Tara mumbled. “You tried to kill Anika.”

“I didn’t mean to get her that good,” Garret said with a shrug. “She just got in the way.”

“I don’t understand,” Sam said with a shake of her head.

“Then have your boyfriend explain,” Garret said. Ethan quickly hit his arm, but he didn’t even flinch. “It was his idea.”

Tara swallowed harshly. The room started to get fuzzy, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the haze. With the smallest move of her head, she looked at Sam and Danny out of the corner of her eyes. His jaw was clenched tight and he wasn’t even looking at Sam.

But Sam. Oh Sam. She probably had the same look Tara had when they found out Amber was Ghostface.

“What?” Sam asked softly.

“Now, just listen-”

“-Better explain faster than that,” Tara interrupted Danny. “Before I pull a Ghostface.”

“No one is after you,” Danny said in a soft voice that was enough to make Tara cringe.

“Then who?” Sam asked. She stepped back, holding her arm out so she could feel where Tara was and stopped when she was directly in front. Tara reached out to hold her hand, and Sam instantly squeezed it. “What’s going on?”

“Some idiots started the rumour that you were the killer,” Danny said. “After I met you, I knew they were wrong.”

Tara huffed. Was he really going to play Romeo? He better not be, she knew he wasn’t entirely stupid. At least he didn’t seem to be. On the other side of the room, Ethan and Garret stepped closer. If they took one more step, she was going to start swinging.

“If I could take the suspicion off of you, then you could be free again,” he continued. “Ghostface wouldn’t follow you anymore.”

“Did you tell them to hurt Anika?” Tara asked. “Or Mindy?”

“Of course not,” he said with a shake of his head.

“How about Y/N?” Tara asked.

Danny exhaled through his nose and looked over at Ethan and Garret. It’s not a no, she thought to herself. None of them were so much as making a noise, just standing there and communicating silently. About what, she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But it didn’t matter. It was confirmation enough. He had either ordered it, or allowed them to try and kill you. Someone that he was supposed to be close with, someone that trusted him. Amber’s soft smile flashed in Tara’s mind’s eye; she quickly shook her head to rid herself of the memory.

“They’re at the most risk so,” Danny sighed, “they got to choose the target.”

Ethan twirled the knife between his fingers. “Think of it as payback for all the shit they gave me over the past year.”

“Bullying excuses murder?” Sam asked. “That makes sense.” She shrugged, but the roll of her eyes gave away her real opinion.

“And it frees you up, Tara,” he continued with a dreamy sigh and a boyish smile. “Wanna go on a date after this?”

“I’ll cut your dick off,” Tara said without an ounce of hesitation or remorse.

His smile slowly fell back into a thin line. There was no way he genuinely thought she would agree to go on a date after he tried to kill you. It didn’t matter if she had admitted how much she liked you, there was no way he was that stupid. Right?

"I told you," Garret said as he turned his head to look at Ethan. The side of his head looked like it needed stitches. "You have to finish Y/N off before asking her out."

"And what's your bullshit excuse?" Tara asked when it was clear Sam was too busy looking at Danny and zoning out. "You blaming it on some sick infatuation too?"

"Of course not," Garret said with his pretty rich-boy smile. "I simply thought it sounded fun."

That. That right there was almost more terrifying than any other motive Tara had heard. He had decided on killing his roommate for fun? She could hear the blood rushing through her ears, steadily increasing until it was practically deafening.

"Sam," Danny said softly, "everything is already in play." Tara turned to frown at him even as Sam stepped closer to her. "Once the boys finish taking care of Y/N, the police will arrest a decoy and you'll both be free."

Tara squeezed Sam's hand. They were going after you again? She had to warn you. She had to text you, or call your Ma, or Tony, or something, anyone that could get to you and keep you safe. Too many people had died because of her already, she refused to let you join the list.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw something drop to the floor behind Ethan and Garret. Something heavy that continued to move even after landing. No one else seemed to notice it, as Sam and Danny were still talking to each other. 

The thing stood up behind Ethan and Garret, and Tara could finally get a decent look. It was a person, in an oversized jacket with the hood pulled over their head. Some kind of half-mask covered their face almost completely, save for the eyes that were shadowed by the hood. Their left arm hung dead at their side as they slowly walked closer.

Surely it wasn't another Ghostface, right? There were already three, technically. Why the hell would there be four? Were they not smart enough to follow the script? There were supposed to be two Ghostfaces, with the exception of Roman. And so far, no one had hunted Ghostface before. Although if Tara was being honest with herself, she would take up that mantle if ever given the chance.

She opened her mouth to say something, ask who their fourth party member was. But the person quickly lifted a gloved hand to their face, holding their finger over where she assumed their mouth was. Hush. Tara knew that one. And when she saw the knife gleaming in their hand, she quickly shut her mouth and nodded once.

The figure twirled the knife once. Tara barely even had time to breathe before the tip of the blade sliced its way through the back of Garret's head, extruding from his open mouth that was now no longer smiling. Someone screamed, but Tara just watched, frozen, as blood poured from the knife.

“Holy shit,” Ethan said.

He was soon interrupted by the sound of Garret choking on his own blood.

There was a wet, sickening sound as the knife pulled back. His eyes rolled back in his head before he fell to his knees, soon slumping over to the ground. He gagged and choked for a few more seconds, with everyone watching, motionless, before he fell silent. Only the occasional wet gasp broke the silence.

Tara lifted her eyes slowly, and her heart nearly beat out of her chest when she noticed the figure hold her gaze. She couldn’t see their eyes well, but she knew they were looking at her. There were almost no emotions in their eyes at all, nothing to show that they had just killed someone and was still standing in the ever growing pool of their blood.

“That one yours too?” Sam asked. She pulled Tara back into a corner, away from everyone else in the room.

“No,” Danny said. “It’s not.”

He tried to move closer to Sam, but one look from her kept him still. If it weren’t for the situation, Tara would’ve laughed at him. But she was a bit too worried about the new player of this sadistic game. If they weren’t one of Danny’s goons, then who were they? How had they gotten into the room so effortlessly? Did your family have any idea how many people knew the location of their supposedly safe room?

Ethan stepped back, tripping over his own feet on his way to stand next to Danny. Cute, Tara thought with a sneer before looking back at the figure who was still just standing there. What the hell was going on?

“What do we do?” Ethan asked.

Little bitch.

The figure blinked a few times before their eyes widened again. They wiped the knife on their pants leg before then pushing the hood back and away from their face. It was a Ghostface move, except for the shaking of hair that had Tara looking just a little closer-

-she knew that hair.

“I knew they couldn’t keep you down,” Danny said.

You just held his gaze. The half-mask stayed put, covering your face from the bridge of your nose down. There were bruises around your eyes that really made them pop. Not that Tara wanted to see it; she would rather you be safe and healed. Your arm still hung limply at your side. Bullet fragments, she remembered Mercy saying.

“How?” Tara asked quietly. You turned to look at her, and your eyes scrunched up.

“They’re high,” Danny said. “Aren’t you?” The scrunch of your eyes disappeared when you looked at him. “Mercy gave you the Vitale special.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“It’s fine with me,” Ethan said with a shrug and another twirl of his knife. “Means I get to kill you myself.”

You stepped backward until you were near the door while Ethan stalked forward. Tara knew how it was going to go; he was going to attack, you would either live or not, and then they were going to come after her and Sam. Even though they had said they wouldn’t, Tara wasn’t so naive as to believe them. Ghostface always targeted someone who went back to the original.

Amber’s face popped up in Tara’s mind again. She wanted her gone. She didn’t get to come back at the worst time possible while you were about to have to fight off Ethan. Why couldn’t she just leave her alone and let her move on? Tara wasn’t an original, she was just some kid from Woodsboro, she didn’t fit into this movie scheme that just wouldn’t quit.

Tara squeezed Sam’s hand when Ethan stepped closer, lifting the knife above his head. He was going to kill you, and you weren’t even trying to stop him. Why weren’t you trying to stop him? You had fought so hard, why was this any different? She needed you to put up a fight, she couldn’t live if you died-

-you turned the handle on the door and pushed it open before stepping to the side.

Gunshots rang through the small room, and Tara and Sam grabbed each other and fell to the floor. She could feel Sam’s hands covering her ears, and she quickly did the same. The shots were so loud, echoing throughout the room, leaving Tara’s ears ringing. Even when the shots stopped, she could hear them.

She flinched when a hand brushed against her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Sam’s hands were still covering her ears, but she opened her eyes and looked up and met Pop’s eyes. He had the same eye scrunch that you did when he smiled. It was an adorable similarity.

“Come on, sweethearts,” Pop said far too gently. Or maybe it was the fact everything was muffled by Sam’s hands.

Pop grabbed her by both shoulders and helped her up to shaky feet. Directly across from her, Tony was helping Sam stand as well. Pop’s hands didn’t let her go even as she started to look around at the room. Blood was dripping down the walls and spreading under the now three dead bodies laying on the floor.

Sam gasped.

Tara’s head quickly turned to face her, following her line of sight to Danny’s body laying on the floor near the table. It was riddled with holes that Tara assumed came from all of your brothers that were still standing around with guns hanging from their hands.

She put her hand on Sam’s bicep as gently as possible, even though she still flinched in response. But she quickly recovered and covered Tara’s hand with her own, giving her a sad smile before looking at Danny’s body one last time. Tara couldn’t imagine how devastated she must have been.

Two boyfriends, two Ghostfaces.

Sam would definitely need more therapy.

She looked down at the bodies again and grimaced.

Maybe she would need therapy too.

“Are either of you hurt?” Dicky asked from his spot beside you. You were leaning further into his side, your injured arm held close to your body.

“No,” Sam said as she pulled Tara into her own side. As much as she wanted to protest, Tara eagerly allowed it.

“Then let’s get everyone out of here,” Joel said. “We can talk back at the hospital.”

Pop and Tony led both Carpenters out of the room. Tara looked back to see Dicky wrap his arm around your waist, and Alfie was right behind you. You looked utterly exhausted and leaned heavily into Dicky’s side. She hoped you were okay. You were still wounded, obviously, but she hoped you were okay.

Tara’s mind was running rampant the entire trip back to the hospital. What had Danny meant, you were high? What was the Vitale special? She didn’t know very much about your family’s business, but that indicated drugs. There was no way you had managed to hide drug use from her. Right? No, there was no way. You were a bit eccentric, but clearly so was the rest of your family. It wasn’t possible.

That led to Tara’s next thought; how was Sam going to feel about everything? About you, the possibility of drugs, the fact that you had gotten your family to kill her boyfriend? Sure, Sam had killed her first one, but this one? This one truthfully hadn’t even tried to kill her. It was some bullshit Romeo excuse, but at least it was different. Was Sam going to hate you for everything?

Her mind wouldn’t shut up the entire walk, and even when they all got settled back in your room and Mercy started hooking you up again, she couldn’t silence the thoughts. She did her best to listen to what Mercy was berating everyone for, but nothing was making sense. It was like listening to the parents from all those Peanuts cartoons back in the day.

She did her best not to gasp when Mercy removed the mask to show the bloody bandages covering the bottom half of your face. When she was finally done, and you were hooked up to whatever you were supposed to be hooked up to, everyone finally sat down.

“We can explain,” Mitch said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“Go ahead,” Tara said with a shrug. “I’ll accept anything at this point.”

“Danny wasn’t Y/N’s emergency contact,” Martha said from her spot at the long table in the room. “And none of us called him.” She shrugged. “I bugged his phone when he was in here.”

Tara had forgotten Martha was your tech guru. She looked over at you to see your reaction to the whole thing. Your eyes were open, but you were just staring at the spot right above the door. From what little you had told Danny, he had been your friend. Someone you had trusted. How did it feel to know he had been more than happy to sacrifice you for the chance at keeping his girl?

"He didn't even hide it in his texts," Alfie said with a shrug.

"Amateur," Martha scoffed.

"They won't be hurting anybody anymore," Pop said quickly before the conversation could take a different turn.

Everyone mumbled their agreements before going silent. It was more uncomfortable than nearly anything else Tara had ever experienced, which was saying a lot. She had been abandoned by both parents, left by her sister, nearly murdered by her girlfriend, killed her own girlfriend, and now had just seen three men get brutally killed. And yet, the silence of your family still trumped everything else.

Thankfully it wasn’t too much longer before everyone started talking again, laughing and joking and acting like a family again. But Tara couldn't help but notice that you were still unmoving, not even looking at whoever was talking. At one point, Ma moved until she was sitting directly beside you, talking with you until you finally nodded your head. She smiled, pressed a kiss to your head, and moved back to her original spot.

It wasn't until you finally fell asleep that everyone quieted down. Most bid their goodbyes, saying they would be back later. The kids should come, your Pop had insisted, and everyone mumbled agreements on their way out. Ma and Pop left the room to bring back some food, and Tara was left alone with Sam.

What was she supposed to talk about now? Did she apologise to Sam for her boyfriend getting killed? She hadn’t exactly done that with Richie, and this was the second time. Tara was no professional, but she knew for a fact there wasn’t some script for how to handle two of your boyfriends being Ghostface.

You shifted on the bed, and both Tara and Sam looked at you quickly. But you settled almost instantly and fell back asleep. She exhaled slowly and looked down at her hands. You were okay. Just sleeping. Yeah, just sleeping.

“We need a vacation,” Sam said, pulling Tara’s thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“Before or after therapy?” Tara asked. From her seat directly beside her, Sam gave her a tired smile.

“Definitely before,” she said with a nod. “Cancun?”

“I can work with that,” Tara said. “Just the two of us?”

“Yup,” Sam answered. She was still looking around the room, not focusing on any one thing. “10 days in Cancun, you and me, no distractions.”

“We can get everybody a t-shirt,” Tara continued.

They both laughed lightly, letting the conversation die down. Maybe talking things over with Sam wouldn’t be too awful. They would still very much need therapy but maybe they could get through it together again. Tara reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand, locking their fingers together.

“You know what I was thinking?” Sam asked once their tired laughter had died down.

Tara hummed in response.

“The next few weeks are going to be so nice,” Sam continued, squeezing Tara’s hand lightly.

“Why?”

“Y/N can’t talk.”

“Sam,” Tara scolded. But even she couldn’t deny that maybe it wouldn’t be such an awful thing.

“Should make it easy though,” Sam continued. “Now you can tell them how you feel without interruption.”

Tara sighed. Seemed Sam wasn’t going to let it go. Didn’t she know there were other things to worry about? Like the three guys they had just seen get shot to hell? Or the fact that they were now apparently part of some crime family with no known weaknesses? There was no way Tara’s admission to you was her top priority at the moment.

“This could have been a lot worse, T,” Sam said, finally turning to look at Tara. “Don’t wait.”

“Thought you hated them,” she said slowly. It was beyond clear that wasn’t the case anymore, but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to do something reckless until she knew all the facts.

“I do,” Sam said. “They’re the most insufferable person I know.” She smiled. “But I trust them.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “And I know you don’t sleep with just anyone.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Tara groaned.

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten,” Sam said even as Tara pulled her hand away and back into her lap. “I may not have seen much, but I’ll never get that out of my head.”

“I’m not having a sex talk with you,” Tara said.

“Were you at least safe?” Sam continued. “Condoms, dental dams, have they been checked?”

“Sam?” Tara said. Sam looked over at her. “Get out.”

“Okay,” Sam said as she held her hands up in surrender. “But you better tell them.”

Tara watched Sam carefully as she stood up and left the room. They both knew they weren’t being serious; at least Tara hoped Sam knew. But she instantly started to regret her decision to kick Sam out when she realised now she was alone with you for the first time since… well, since she had stayed at your family’s house.

And now your eyes were open and you were looking at the ceiling again, seemingly in a daze.

“Hey,” Tara said softly. You blinked slowly before turning your head in her direction.

Obviously, you didn’t say anything.

Tara stood up and stretched as she looked around the room. Danny had said you were annoying everyone, so clearly you were talking to them somehow. Couldn’t be a phone, yours was nowhere to be seen. She looked over every inch of space, seeing nothing that would suffice. Well, seeing nothing until she finally found the small whiteboard at the foot of the bed. With shaky hands, she grabbed it and brought it back to the bed, setting it down on your lap.

“How are you feeling?” She asked. She waited as you slowly grabbed the marker and started writing on the board with messy handwriting.

Better than Ghostface.

Yeah, you were fine.

“Did you hear what Sam and I were talking about?” She asked.

You nodded, and that little crinkle under your eyes came back. She huffed; of course you did. It shouldn’t have been any surprise, you were apparently good at hearing things you weren’t supposed to. Maybe it was just something you were particularly adept at.

You started writing on the board again.

Gale told me the same thing.

Tara’s heartbeat was loud in her ears.

“You first,” she said quickly. Your crinkled eyes disappeared, transforming into a frown. “You’re oldest, you first.”

She heard you exhale harshly through your nose. Please do it, she thought when you still hadn’t moved. If you said it first, then she would know how to go about everything. Because what if you didn’t actually feel the same way? Sure, you had fought Ghostface, but that could be chalked down to survival. What if she was being delusional and you didn’t really like her like that, you only wanted to get laid?

You looked back down at the whiteboard and used the hospital blanket to clear it. With a shaky hand, you started writing again. She tried to follow what you were writing, but when you noticed, you moved the board sideways so she couldn’t see it.

Never mind. She didn’t feel bad for you anymore, you could suffer for all she cared.

When you put the whiteboard back down, it took a moment for her eyes to refocus before she could actually read what you had written. Her heart was so loud in her ears she almost couldn’t read. But when she could, she almost laughed.

I like like you.

She looked up at you. Your eyes sparkled for a second before you looked back down at the board, hastily scribbling something else down.

Not just for sex.

Now at that she did laugh, although it was more of a nervous laugh than anything else. She wouldn’t ever admit it to you, but you had just eased one of her biggest worries. Tara was more than aware that she had used you at that frat party all those months ago, but she had hoped you weren’t just doing the same thing.

Now she knew better.

“We’re not in middle school,” Tara said as she pointed her finger at the first sentence you had written. You rolled your eyes. Her hands felt clammy. “But I like like you too.”

Your head turned so quickly Tara almost thought she heard a pop from your neck. The eye contact was borderline unbearable; it was like you were searching her soul. That clamminess in her hands only got worse, and she pulled them back and rubbed them on her pants. She knew you couldn’t talk, but the silence was drowning her in her own thoughts.

You erased the whiteboard and wrote on it again.

Does this mean I have to be nice to Sam?

“Yes it does,” Tara said without hesitation, all worry from only a second ago now gone. “Chad too.”

You groaned, the first noise she had heard from you since she had seen you again. It was scratchy and almost a little funny sounding.

An idea popped into Tara’s head, and before she could talk herself out of it, she nudged your side gently. You frowned at her for a second before moving over, an almost inaudible groan leaving your lips. Her palms got sweaty again as she climbed into the bed and sat down next to you. It was like you were nothing more than a puppet as she grabbed your free hand and brought it into her lap.

She felt you move and heard the marker against the whiteboard.

You won’t leave?

“I mean,” Tara smiled to herself as she recalled what you had told her in the theatre. “I’ll have to leave to pee at some point.”

You groaned again and threw your head back against the pillow while Tara couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling past her lips. Seemed you could dish it out, but you couldn’t take it so well. But then you squeezed her fingers and turned your head to look at her again.

“Get some sleep,” Tara said softly. “I’ll be here.”

You held her eyes for a moment before you nodded once. Your eyes crinkled, and it left a warmth in Tara’s chest. She held still as you shifted around, scooting down on the bed until you could lean your head against her arm. You left your hand in her lap and it only took a few seconds before you were out again.

Only after she was sure you were asleep did Tara lean down and press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. All the anxiety and fear from the past few days disappeared with each calm, steady breath you took. Ghostface was gone, no one would even know they were gone, and maybe this whole fad could fade away.

With the comforting thought of finally getting some peace, Tara leaned back against the bed and closed her own eyes. Sleep had never come so easily.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Keep Thinking About a Gale x Ace!Tav x Astarion AU

It makes no damn sense. Compels me though.

Let me be clear, this would be an AU and not a continuation of the “canon” I’ve established with Ace!Tav. It’s just not how I picture their story playing out. All the same, I keep circling back to this in my brain. Call it a thought experiment.

I’m probably not going to write a full fic for it. So, if anybody wants to take this general idea and run with it, feel free. Just give me a shoutout. Or if you guys are curious about this AU drop me an ask and I’ll answer with some rambles.

Speaking of, shoutout to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble to them about it.

Astarion x Ace!Tav Masterlist (for reference)

Cards on the table, none of these people are ready for a poly relationship

Gale is explicitly monogamous and ties sex and romantic love intimately together. Astarion is still dealing with the idea of being enough and just ✨the trauma✨ . Meanwhile Tav has their own abandonment issues and is just waiting for Astarion to get bored and leave. And yet! This disaster trio won’t leave me alone.

So this whole thing gets started when Astarion approaches Tav about wanting to experiment with sex again

He knows Tav isn't interested in sex and doesn't want to make them feel pressured into having it just to please him, so they talk about opening up in the relationship

Tav is hesitant about it, but also doesn't want this to be the reason Astarion leaves and so agrees

They convince themselves that if Astarion wants to have a one night stand, it’s fine; so long as he’s not seeking out his emotional needs with other people then there’s no risk of him wanting to end things; this is, of course, a terrible way to handle it

So, with that hanging over their heads they reconnect with Gale over some quest (maybe getting a magical item to allow Astarion to walk in the sun)

Gale has been teaching and while happy is admittedly still a bit lonely so is grateful to see his friends again

Gale and Tav always had a close relationship, but seeing them again does stir up some of those old feelings he'd let lie because, you know, the Absolute (headcanon here for further details)

Gale internally berates himself for this because he 1) knows Tav is ace and therefor not interested in a sexual relationship which is something he prioritizes when it comes to romance and 2) Tav is clearly still in a loving relationship with Astarion, so he's not going to be the asshole to get in the middle of all that

He tells himself it’s just the loneliness talking and pushes that shit down

So, he starts getting closer to Astarion who, while still a bit of a rogue, has mellowed a bit and worked on some of his more selfish instincts

Honestly, having the opportunity to see how much Astarion is devoted to Tav increases his opinion of the man

He and Astarion’s relationship is still antagonistic, but much more playful than before

This culminated in a moment when Astarion and Tav are checking in on each other after a trap goes off

Astarion pulls them close a moment kissing Tav on the temple once it’s clear they’re fine

Gale watches this interaction, his stomach twisting with familiar jealousy, but pauses as his mind screeches to a halt realizing “wait, am I jealous of Astarion or Tav?"

Meanwhile Astarion is a bit surprised at Gale being more friendly with him, but he can't say he's complaining. He knows Tav missed him, and while he had his own jealousies early in the relationship, he's since moved passed it. Gale was the one to help him ultimately get together with Tav after all.

He makes more of an effort to get to know the wizard one on one and finds himself looking more and more

There is something oddly endearing when he rambles

Gods he really is a powerful wizard (connotation: scared and horny)

Did his robes always show off his chest hair like that

He really does make Tav happy

Until one morning he's laying in bed and snaps up enraged with himself like, "GALE?! OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU CAN FEEL COMPELLED TO FUCK. FUCKING GALE?!?!?!?!"

Full existential crisis

Yes, they said opening the relationship, but he knows how nervous Tav feels about it. They’ve told him about their past relationships and how so many of them fell apart when the topic of sex came up

But he also knows he can’t do a one night stand; he needs to trust the person he’s having sex with, he wants it to mean something

He knows Gale and he knows it would mean something with him

He also knows Gale’s opinion on monogamy; would he force him to choose between him and Tav? Would Gale even want to be with him? Astarion knows Gale used to feel deeply for Tav

And what if it ends badly? Gale is Tav’s friend, his friend. Fuck, this can’t be happening

Meanwhile Tav is reconnecting with Gale and is like, “Gods I did miss him…oh wait I like *missed* him, missed him”. But pushes that shit down because, again, in a very loving relationship with Astarion which they won’t risk for anything and 2) Gale has made it clear that sex is something he values in a relationship as a form of intimacy.

They knew they couldn’t give him that then and they can’t now

Tav is also starting to notice how Astarion is looking at Gale

They’re much more in tune with his emotions and can see he’s interested

Tav starts to feel jealous and then feels guilty for doing so because they said opening the relationship was fine

Gale is wonderful. They know he’d treat Astarion the way he deserves. They could hardly blame Astarion for ultimately choosing him

They knew deep down they were just a stepping stone on Astarion’s road to recovery. If he can be with someone who can give him so much love and sex, why would he need them?

It also doesn’t help that as they start noticing Astarion looking at Gale, they see Gale looking right back

They do feel deeply for Gale, but know his thoughts on monogamy

Besides, they turned him down before, they can’t expect Gale to have held onto those feelings

So they start to slowly distance themselves from both men, resolving that if Astarion approaches them about it, they’re not going to stand in his way.

This course of action causes all of them to start driving themselves crazy in their own heads

Astarion is scrambling because they can sense Tav pulling away and is desperate to figure out what’s wrong, but Tav won’t tell them anything

Gale can see it too and so is pushing down all of his emotions because “Tav I know you love Astarion and Astarion loves you, so what’s going on”

Tav can’t confide in him either so they just don’t say anything

This leaves Astarion and Gale to start confiding in each other more because what’s going on?

Finally Astarion spills everything to Gale, he and Tav opening their relationship, his fears about them leaving, and becuase he’s got a good idea why they’re pulling away

Gale is admittedly a bit obtuse about it which prompts Astarion to grab him by the front of the robes and start kissing him

Gale respond enthusiastically and the two of them start making out. But before it goes any further their brains catch up with them and they stop, both knowing that they need to talk to Tav

So they approach Tav and Tav’s like, “yeah, it’s fine, can’t say I’m surprised, neither of you are exactly subtle. It’s fine. I’ll take this as my queue to go then.”

Astarion then jumps in like, “wait, no, who said anything about leaving”.

Tav tries to convince him that it’s fine, that they’re happy for him, really. They can’t begrudge him for wanting more and he shouldn’t feel compelled to stay with them.

Astarion’s brain is reeling from this because are you actually kidding me? Please say you’re joking and don’t actually believe that.

He then takes their face in his hands and tells them he’s not going to stop loving them just because he wants to have sex again and if there is one lesson they’ve taught him is that he has more love in him that he ever thought possible. He’s got plenty to spare.

Gale meanwhile has been watching Astarion and Tav’s relationship for some time and has come to understand you can separate sex and romantic love

He then steps in saying, “yes, I am interested is pursuing something more with Astarion, but also with you. Honestly out of the two of you, I’ve loved you for much longer”.

Tav would still need time to accept the idea that they’re not the third wheel. Gale would need to work out how to put that sometimes obsessive love into two people and Astarion still has his trauma, but they’d all have each other to work it all out once they get everything out into the open.

[fregget-frou]

Self awareness in video games are such a great idea and it’s underutilized, the horror of realizing your reality :) ft. One of my TAVs Fitz

Some rambles of self aware/4th wall breaking in BG3 under cut

Wish we had more fics/writings about how the characters would interact and process being a game character, because the game is aware of its self (at least for characters like Karlach and her cut 4th wall break scene). I just like the thought of one of them making a high perception check and suddenly gaining awareness and the surrounding world goes down in quality, and they see the underlying textures of their party members.

The sudden freak event ends quickly, but just enough to keep their mind on it. Then as things continue they just notice it more. How Tav sometimes just walks around without reason, how they seem to be so aware of things even they don’t know why, and how their eyes don’t shine in the same way others do. Think of Tav realizing they don’t have as much control as they thought, feeling the tugs of the code pushing them towards decisions, even if they seem small. Until after the game, they feel the tug leave, like a breath of fresh air, collapsing and confused. Only for their freedom to be short lived, once the epilogue happens.

Characters like Gale feelings the weave, and for just a moment it doesn’t feel right, and he sees the webbing of model joints and the polygons, and the code. And he hears the narrator, and a sudden awareness of thinking this isn’t a god, it’s so much more, and it’s ripped away from him.

Seeds of doubt and confusion spread throughout them all, confused to high hell.

Personally I think Tav wouldn’t really recognize themselves as a person, or were they ever really one? Are they just a puppet for this thing, to act out on the stage of this world? Are all there memories false, do they even have a deeper level of consciousness? Sure the others are game characters but they aren’t being controlled like them. A shell, a vessel. Where do they end and the player begin? And will coming to an answer help them, or just doom them to the realization all the suffering and acts happening around them are for the amusement of god like creatures. Dolls, even if they interact with them these creatures seem nice, but they don’t view them as people. Like pets, dolls to dress up and crash their faces together. Did Tav even love their partner, or was it just because the player wanted it to happen?

Just thoughts of existential crisis being a topic of discussion :3

+ Fitz in color!!

[mediocre-quill-ink]

Nightmares

Paring: bloodweave

Content: nightmares, sleep paralysis, Astarion has ptsd, dissasociation, hurt comfort, a little gale angst peppered in

Authors note: this was inspired by the first half of @wellen-katze Astarion nightmare comic, be sure to check it out. Tysm for the permission to write this, I hope it's okay, lol

Astarion stood alone, behind him was a barely visible treeline, the sprawling arms of pine trees reaching into the dull sky was hard to determine where each part begun and ended. In front of him was a vast void of inky nothingness. The chill of the void felt consuming, watching.

"Hello?" The elf called out cautiously, brow slightly raised in hesitation. "Is someone there?" Someone else was there with him. He could feel it. A heavy presence lingering behind a veil.

He craned his head back, looking back into the treeline. Something that resembled something at least to look into. Not this damn void he's found himself in.

"Help me...!" A small, alarmed voice called from behind him. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest at that. The voice was shaking and familiar, sheepish in its plead.

Astarion turned back to the void to see a familiar coffin standing in front of him, sturdy and filthy wood standing in front of him almost expectantly.

"Please... let me out." His own voice called out from within, small, terrified.

The elf tried his best to swallow down his fear as he stared at the to familiar structure for a moment as awful memories came flooding back.

"Help me!" His old self grew more despeate, pleading out to what he remembered to be a suffocating nothingness.

"I can't take it.... oh please..."

There was another brief pause before his younger self grew more frantic.

"Open up! I beg you...! Master!"

With wide eyes, and trembling hands, Astarion approached the door of his own wreched coffin. Gods, he hoped he'd never see this thing again.

The sound of his own blood and heart beat thrumming through his ears disoriented him. Gripping the lid, he took a deep, desprate breath before opening it. The door swung open with an old whine. The hinges rattling off dirt with turn.

Inside his to familiar tomb was himself, paler than usual, sunken, tired features and a mouth sewn shut.

Immediately his past selves mouth snapped open, threads holding his mouth shut broke, his eyes wide and gleaming a blinding void of white.

The only reaction Astarion could make was his eyes widening in horror. But he didn't have enough time to flee. It was already to late.

Whatever version of himself that was trapped in the coffin attacked, it's head rocketing at him, voident of any familiarity in expression. It was the last thing he saw, a blink of an action before he felt his neck snap.

Astarion awoke with a jolt, his heart still racing in his ears, his mind stewing with nothing but fear from the adrenaline.

Thank gods, just a nightmare.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Warm, humid air filling his lungs.

He felt heavy... stuck... Astarions eyes snapped back open when he realized...

I cant move! I'm paralyzed!

Something moved in the corner of his eyes, a looming shadow. His gut dropped.

Slowly, bringing his attention to the figure. It was Cazador, towering over him in his sleep. He looked blurry and otherworldly, but he could see the harsh shadows of judgment etched into his features all the same.

Cazador did not move, nor speak. Nearly watching him as though he was a helpless rat in a trap.

Astarion began to tremble. He begged his body to move. To run. But his body felt locked in place.

Please someone help me! He begged, his mind screaming. His whole body felt hot.

All cazador did was watch, eyes glowing with no expression.

Astarion felt as though his heart would give out, trembling, sweating, mentally screaming for help. Anyone.

He will take me! He pleaded silently. He didn't want to be taken. Please, gods, anywhere but that hell.

All he wanted was to scream.

Astarion flinched at sudden contact. Something has his shoulder. A large palm resting on his trembling skin.

Help me! Help me! He has me!

Astarion swallowed harshly, not daring to look away from cazador even for a second.

"Astarion." A hushed, warm voice whispered.

The voice was familiar but he couldn't place it, to wound up in panic to think on the specifics.

"Astarion." The voice urged again, shaking his shoulder softly.

Astarion hesitated for a long moment before looking away from Cazador, keeping him in the field of his vision to see what horrible stranger was gripping him.

Soft, big brown eyes stared back at him. Pools of concern looking without waver. Astarion let out a tense breath.

It was just Gale.

Not another spawn or Godey or any other wreched creature that would do Cazadors bidding. It was Gale.

"Are you alright?" His voice was soft and warm, losening on his shoulder a bit.

Astarions lips parted, testing his jaw experimentally. He still felt stiff, but his mouth he seemed more able to move.

"Fine." The elf bit out defensively. Rolling away weakly.

I can move thank gods.

Astarion trembled as he sat up right, looking back to where the apparition of Cazador stood. He was gone. Just some terrible sleep paralysis.

With a weak hand, Astarion whiped the sweat from his brow, clenching his jaw.

"You don't seem fine." The wizard replied, equally as playful as he was serious. His tone still hushed not to wake his other party members all sleeping around the fire. "If there's one thing I am, it's not a fool." Gale playfully scolded by waving his finger at Astarion.

The vampire tisked. "I'd argue otherwise..."

There was a long beat of silence before he continued, "what do you want anyway?"

"I couldn't get much sleep. Decided to read until my eyelids turned heavy." Gale chuckled awkwardly at his own joke. If it was even a joke. Gale sure found it amusing. "But I couldn't help but notice you twitching in your sleep like a dog. Then you simply stared into the abyss with a fear I've never seen on someone as proud as you." There was a pause. "I wanted to help."

Astarion gazed into the fire intentionally, trying not to look at the wizard.

"Well, I appreciate the help I suppose. Though I don't appreciate being watched while I sleep." Astarions voice came out cold, though without any real bite.

"And next time." He started, turning to look at gale again, "announce who the hell is touching me. I don't want to wake to the hands of Gods knows what on my... glorious body." The last part he threw in for some sort of defense. He didn't want to sound weak. He wasn't scared. No. Definitely not scared....

Gale only hummed in response, looking at him for a moment with subtle observancy. "I'll keep that noted."

After a beat, Gale carefully sat next to Astarion, crossing his legs. They both watched the fire in silence. The air between them thick with unspoken emotion. Questions and feeling weighed on the humid hair more than desired. It felt suffocating to Astarion. He hated it.

As much as he wanted to be pissed at Gale simply for seeing him in such a state, a small part of him ringed with great fulness. Woken from that gods awful paralysis.

He probably would have pissed himself if he had to keep being analyzed under the awful gaze of Cazador.

"... thank you for the help, nontheless." Astarion muttered. "Though, don't expect me to let go of the fact that you watched me in my sleep." He bit out again, with no real venom.

"You're making me sound like a creeper." Gale teased.

"You've given me no reason to believe otherwise." Astarions voice dipped, a quiet seriousness to his comment.

Gale was still for a long moment, a quiet sigh escaping him. "Fair enough, I suppose..."

The soft sound of crickets sung in the air around them, the campfire small and crackling as it slowly dies.

"... can I ask what your dream was about?" Gale questioned carefully. He was still looking into the dieing fire as he spoke, but Astarion could feel all his attention pressed on him anyway.

"My past." He replied blankly.

Gale understood he was being intentionally vague, and decided against pressing on the details much further.

"The past can be a cruel mistress, hm?"

Astarion simply blinked into the fire, he could feel himself growing more distant from his surroundings, thinking back to Cazador looming over him. He could still feel his eyes burning into him.

Or maybe it was just Gales attention. The difference in tone was evident, but the intensity was all the same. Sometimes sympathy felt worse than malice.

"Or master." Astarion replied dryly.

The flames flickered weakly, small waves of pale orange licking into the warm air.

Gale nodded subtly. It didn't take much effort to understand his meaning.

"... every now and then i get nightmares too." Gale offered quietly, watching the flames turn to embers, the charred logs glowing warm and orange. "About every month, maybe two times a month, I'll get a nightmare of sorts about my... condition. It's a little different every time, but it's always the same in the end. My chest aches as though lightning is inside it, the orb with a hunger so painful I feel like I'm being from the outside in... I pray to the good goddesses mystra in hopes of her saving me. And then I burst.... it's a pain like nothing before, magic tearing your body apart. It's hot and electric and consuming. It rips apart your bones and makes your veins tingly. It's a terrible feeling. Thankfully one I hardly experience in reality but still..."

Gale subconsciously reached up, fidgiting with his earring in anxiety, perhaps he's said to much.

"But that's just my two copper on nightmares..."

Astarion breathed out slowly, still feeling a bit floaty and distant. "Why are you still here?" He asked quietly.

Gale remained silent for a beat, continuing to worry with his jewelry before replying with some effort, as though unsure if he should speak the words. "Because i care about you."

Astarion slowly turned to look at him, chest aching.

Gale noticed a small frown tugging at the vampires lips. He didn't say anything, but he could see the dullness in his eyes, and the vulnerabilitity within them. The way he struggled to believe him.

"... I can return to my bedroll if I'm bothering you." Gale offered quietly.

There was a long moment of nothing. Astarion blinked at Gale before looking back to the embers.

Gods, it was so dark.

Astarion never minded the dark until now. He's spent two centuries in it. But now it felt like a suffocating void.

Like being trapped in a coffin.

"Stay." Astarion replied softly, barely even a whisper.

He didn't want to be alone.

He was so sick of being alone. In the dark.

"I'll stay." Gale murmured, a small nod of acceptance.

Astarion leaned into Gale, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes.

[g4yforethan]

suffocation

pairing: ethan landry x male!reader

summary: reader and ethan are dating but suspicions arise if ethan is secretly a killer

warnings: cursing, violence!

after a terrifying and long night, you had survived your first ghostface attack. you had lost both of your best friends, anika and quinn, and you were devastated and in shock that you were now a target. after getting checked out by the police and ambulance, you were waiting outside of your apartment with mindy, tara, and chad. you tried calling ethan at least 5 times but there was no reply, soon, you see ethan come out from the crowd of people at the crime scene and chad charges at him. they argue and ethan walks up to you. “ethan where the fuck were you last night?!” you yell at him. “y/n, i had econ! i’m sorry for not calling you back.” he tries to hug you but you refuse. “you didn’t tell me you were going to econ last night. i don’t know who to trust now ethan.” he looks at you with desperation and trying to convince you that he was innocent but you kept your distance.

after a series of attacks that followed, the group decided that it was best to beat ghostface at his own game and meet in the theater. while boarding the train to the theater, you got separated from the group alongside ethan and mindy. mindy was already suspicious of ethan from the start and you were starting to feel the same way. once you three got on the train, ethan wanted you to be next to him. “y/n please stay next to me. i don’t want you to get hurt.” “ethan i don’t know whether to trust you or not right now!” “just please for right now. just stay next to me.” he gives you a kiss on the lips and holds you in his arm as the train reaches your destination. after a while, you looked up at him and saw him staring at mindy, eyeing her with the most menacing look on his face. you tried to shrug it off but you couldn’t. when the train had reached your stop, you look towards mindy and saw her in the back of the train bleeding and in pain. “oh my fucking god mindy! what the fuck happened?! somebody help us!” you and ethan grab onto mindy and race out of the train while paramedics come to help. “y/n you go to the theater, i’ll stay here with mindy. GO!” you give him a kiss and run out to the theater.

you get to the theater and find that the main entrance is locked. you go around the back end of the theater and find a door leading inside. as you walk in, you try to be cautious and quiet as possible in case ghostface was already there. as you make your way in, you start to hear screaming coming from one of the rooms, you find the source to see tara and sam in shock as two ghostfaces attack chad. stab after stab. "y/n, tara we have to go now!” sam yells at you both. as the three of you run to the main center of the theater, you are cornered by the two ghostfaces wielding the knife. out of nowhere, a gun shot goes off and the ghostaces are out of sight. kirby comes out and explains that she was shot but sam and tara weren’t buying it and neither were you. all of a sudden, detective bailey comes out with his gun aiming at kirby. out of nowhere, he shoots kirby and the two ghostfaces emerge from behind. “no fucking way. it’s you?” you stare in disbelief. “yeah of course it’s me. thought you would know better after what you did to us.” “us?!” you scream at him. the ghostace to his left begin to reveal who they are. it’s ethan. 

“no no ethan i trusted you.” you start to cry as pain and betrayal fills your brain. he looks at you. that once innocent smile has turned into the most deranged stare. “it was easy y/n. pretend to fall in love with you just to get close to sam and tara. it was the perfect cover.” “so you were never in love with me? all of those times? it was just you using me for some sick fucked-up plan?!” tara tries to comfort you as you cry and cry. “listen we don’t have time for the lover betrayal storyline-” detective bailey shouts. “so who’s the ghostface next to you then huh? mindy? gale?!” tara cuts him off and yells. “well i was going to get there before you rudely interrupted me.” the ghostface takes off the mask. it’s quinn. “hey roomies. didn’t see that one coming did you?” “yeah because you died. there was blood all over you!” you’re in disbelief. how did she survive? “you see y/n all it takes is a little bit of fake blood and a good performance. thought you would know better mr. horror fanatic.” the trio begins to separate as detective bailey goes on a monologue and ethan and quinn threaten the three of you with their knives. 

“you’re a killer. just like your father!” detective bailey shouts at sam. “NO IM NOT!” “yes you are you motherfucker. YOU KILLED OUR BROTHER!” the three of you look at each other in confusion. “you told us your brother died in a car accident.” ethan points at you. “no, no, no you sweet dumb thing. he died in woodsboro. at the hands of this dumb bitch in front of me.” you couldn’t believe ethan. all of this for his sick fucked-up brother who nearly killed your friends last year. “you all went through this much trouble trying to kill us for vengeance for a sick borderline pedo man-child?!” you scream at all of them not feeling threatened at all. “woah, you watch your mouth there baby boy.” “oh fuck you ethan!” he slices your arm with his knife and gives you a smile. quinn charges at sam but tara smacks her with a brick, tossing her to the ground. kirby shoots at ethan and bailey and they fall to the floor. the three of you run to the exit on the top floor. 10 feet away from the exit, you miss your step and fall.

 “help me! sam! tara!” they try pulling you up but the blood on your hands makes it too slippery for them to pull you up. by this point, ethan was already up, desperate to catch you. “come down here y/n. i wanna know how it feels being inside of you.” “fuck you ethan!” “FUCK YOU!” he yells back at you. you can’t hold on any longer at this point. “sam. give me the knife.” she hands you the knife and you give her a menacing smile. you fall to the ground and ethan quickly stabs you in the side. “gotcha now pretty boy!” you scream and jab the knife into his mouth. he looks at you in disbelief and pain. you slowly move the knife further into his throat which makes him start to cry. “go burn in hell sick fuck!” you remove the knife and he falls back on the ground. he’s dead. you smile knowing that he’s gone but you start to feel the pain that he was once your sweet, cute boyfriend but that was all in your head. that’s the way you like to remember it.

author’s note: hi everyone! hope you enjoyed this story. please send requests of any other characters that you like me to do as my requests are open! thank you <33

[opposums-love-arson]

Scream Queen Book 1: Conventional Final Girl

Chapter 8

Chapter 7 / Epilogue

Hey y'all! I'm sorry I took a long unprompted hiatus from the story, I need to catch up on course work and didn't focus on updating. Again, I'm so sorry but I'm back now! This is the second to last update, though I'm thinking of turning this into an anthology series with different slashers. Let me know if that sounds fun to y'all!

P.S. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

  I heard shouting and yelling upstairs, getting worried I ran up hoping that Billy and Sid weren’t fighting. When I got there I flung the door open, “Sid! Sid everything ok-” I paused as I saw what was layed out before me… literally. Both Sid and Billy’s lifeless bodies toppled over on the large mattress. “Oh my god…” I said as I held the door open, only then did I notice the person dressed in all black holding a bloodied hunting knife. That was when he noticed me as well. “Oh shit, this is not happening!” I shouted as I ran out of the room. Locking the door I ran down the balcony hallway and into another room then out into the other end of the hallway. I was going to go down the stairs but the killer was already there. Panicking, I turned to go back the way I came. On instinct I slammed the door right in the killer’s face. He fell down in pain as I made my way to yet another room. There wasn’t another way out in this one… so much for quick thinking. 

  With the killer banging on the door I realized the only way out was through one of the windows. Unfortunately they were both shut. It was no use calling for help, no one would hear me. Or maybe there’s another window? To my luck there was, I crawled out and finally shouted, “Help!” before the killer came in and pried my hand off of the window sill. This is it, this is where I die, isn’t it? Nope, save by a tarp! Jumping down I’m ready to run when I see it, another person close to me has met their untimely demise… “Tatum?” I asked, as if she could answer, hot tears were running down my face before I could even understand. I ran away as fast as I could, not even checking to see if the Ghostface was following me. 

  “Help! Please help!” I shouted out as I ran through Stu’s yard and up to the fence. Breaking down a few of the flimsy wood planks I ran up to the news van. “C’mon please let me in!” I screamed out, jolting Gale’s camera guy to life. “He’s gonna kill me, he killed Tatum!” I wailed as I leaped into the van. The camera guy pointed to a screen showing Randy and the killer creeping behind him. He hopped out of the Van but both of us noticed the open front door. That’s when the camera guy was stabbed by the Ghostface. I closed the door, the masked murderer cutting my arm in the process. If dealing with mental suffering wasn’t enough then physical suffering will be. I crawled out a small hole in the back of the van. 

  I don’t even look behind me, I just start running and leaping over another fence back into the yard. Oh god where is everyone can’t there just be someone here? I continue running, Shit the road, there has to be someone coming down the street? I see the news van driving so I hop in the way and try to wave it down. “Stop! Stop!” I shouted. Things go exactly the way I didn’t want them to go and the van swerves off the street and down a hill. Thinking nothing can be done about that, I run to the house again in search of Tatum’s brother. “Dewey! I need help, Dewey!” I called out but only got echos in response. The front door opens and out walks Dewey. 

“Oh god, Dewey!” I called out in relief. 

“(y/n)?” He asked, he was about to walk down to me until he toppled over on the stairs thanks to a knife in his back. 

“Dewey! Oh no! No no no!” I shouted as my hand covered my mouth, both most likely smeared in blood now. 

That’s when Ghostface popped out from the doorframe, yanking the knife out of Dewey’s back and cleaning it off. I ran away horrified by everything that just took place and beeline for the patrol car. Seeing the killer go for the passenger door I hurriedly push down on the lock button. He quickly went for my side but I rolled the window up and pushed down the button just in time. I go to turn the key only to notice they’re not there. “Shit shit shit shit!” I cried down slamming my hands on the wheel. The killer knocks on the window to get my attention then dangles the keys right in my face. Before I have time to react he ducks below my view. Frantically I look around to see where he went. The passenger door unlocks so I hop over to lock it. The car radio starts sounding off so I grab the walkie-talkie-thingy and speak into it giving the address of where I am and that I need help. As I was talking the killer comes up from behind and strangles me! Yeah as if I’m going to let some sick fuck kill me in a car! I punch him where I think his cheek was and he lets go of me. I take the chance to make a run out of the car and to the porch. 

“(y/n)!” Someone called out my name. 

Crouching down as I go to get the gun of what I thought to be Dewey’s corpse I look up to see who it is. 

“(y/n), we gotta get the fuck out of here!” Randy shouted as he limped over to me.

“Stop right there Randy,” I said trying to sound as calm as I could while pointing the gun at him.

While hopping on his leg Randy said, “Don’t shoot it’s me! I found Tatum, she’s dead! I think Stu di-”

Stu came running up to the house saying, “Don’t listen to him, (y/n)!” he shouted, cutting Randy off. 

“Both of you. Just. Stay. Back,” I said sternly as they rambled words to everyone in a mile radius. 

Stu threw Randy down as they both hurriedly walked towards me. 

Stu cried, “(y/n), give me that gun, please just give me the gun!” As he kept looking back. 

I couldn’t trust either of them if I was being realistic but given the past few days… Stu might be the better option. The two boys were now having a pointing match as they kept looking at me and shouting. 

“Fuck you both!” I shouted and ran inside ignoring their protests as I locked the door. “Go away, please just go! Find help!” 

A grunt was heard from the stairs, whipping around. I saw Billy. 

“Billy…” I said, shocked and relieved at the same time. 

“(y/n),” he said as he fell down the stairs in his weak state. 

“No! Billy!” I said as I rushed to his side. 

Cradling him in my arms I said, “I thought you were dead, does that mean Sid is-” 

“No, the knife just… ” Billy said as he held my face, looking away from me.  

“C’mon let’s get you up,” I said with a small smile, “Carefully.” 

“We gotta get help,” Billy said with a few grunts as he made it to the door. 

“No, Billy, he’s out there. The killer is out there!” I raised my voice blocking the door.

“No, give me the gun. It’s okay,” He said as he took the gun out of my hands. 

Moving away from the door I said, “I trust you.” 

Randy barges in saying, “Please help me!” 

“Get in, get in!” Billy said as he ushered Randy in the house.

“Stu’s flipped out! He’s gone mad!” 

“We all go a little mad sometimes,” Billy softly says with a smile as he points the gun at Randy. 

“What the fuck Norman Ba- No Billy! What are you doing?” I ask, trying to get the gun away from him but his arm is longer than mine.

“Fuck,” Randy says before he’s shot in the chest falling back and taking the table with him. 

Running to his side I can hear Billy say, “Anthony Perkins, Psycho.” 

“It’s not even in the same context Billy what the fuck?” I shouted as I crouched down beside Randy. 

“Mmm, corn syrup,” Billy said as he sucked his finger clean. 

“Same stuff they used in Carrie, right?” I asked, my voice shaking as I backed up right into another person. 

Turning around I realized it was Stu, “Stu, help please? It’s Billy!” I said through sobs. 

Taking something out of his pocket he held it to his mouth and said, “Surprise, (y/n)!” 

I know that voice… it’s both of them…

Looking between the two I said, “Shit,” and shoved Stu out of my way and into the kitchen. 

I made it to the other side but not before Billy caught up to me pointing the gun in my face. 

“Woah now,” He said before catching the voice distorter Stu tossed. 

“What’s the matter (y/n)? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He spoke into it.

Walking to the kitchen counter, seeing that there's no place to go I ask them, “So why exactly are you doing this?” 

“It’s all part of the game, (y/n).” Stu said as they walked closer to me. 

“It’s called-” Billy raised the distorter to his mouth, “-GUESS HOW I’M GOING TO DIE!” as he raised the gun to me

Flinching back at his words I said, “God, fuck you both,” while trying not to cry. 

“No no no, you had your chance at that game, you passed it up,” Billy said as he switched out the gun for the knife that Stu held up. 

“It’s all fun and games, (y/n). See we ask a question and if you get it wrong- BUGAH!” Stu shouted thrusting the gun in my face, “Ya die.”

“And if you get it right…” Billy trailed off, his eyes trailing me up and down. 

“Ya know you’re crazy right? The both of you,” I said as I leaned as far away as I could from them. 

“We prefer the term psychotic,” Stu said with a grin as he came up behind Billy, perching his head on his shoulder. 

Shaking my head and laughing a little I said, “You’re never getting away with this.” 

“I don’t know, tell that to Cotton Weary… You wouldn’t believe how easy he was to frame,” Billy said, twirling the knife around my hair. 

“Wait Sidney’s mom’s…” I trailed, it was all starting to make sense now. 

“Watch a few movies, take a few notes, it was fun!” Stu said, his head still perched on Billy’s shoulder.

“That’s what you meant Stu?” I asked them, this time they were the ones a little confused. 

“When Billy arrived, after he and Sid went upstairs you said Billy was using me…” I looked up my anger clear as day, “It wasn’t to get back together, it was to string her along, why?” 

“Why… WHY? Hear that Stu, I think she wants a motive,” Billy said, looking back at Stu. 

“Well I don’t really believe in motive, (y/n). Did Norman Bates have a motive?” Billy asked, looking back at me. 

“Nope,” Stu said, pointing his index finger up. 

“Did they ever decide why Hannibal Lecter liked to eat people? Don’t think so!” Billy said aggressively as he shoved his face in mine. 

“You’re wrong,” I quietly said

“What was that?” Billy asked as he pointed the knife to my chest. Stu came running up, cupping his ear with his hand. 

“I said you’re wrong.” 

“Care to elaborate for the class?” Billy asked, more so commanded. 

“Bates was motivated to kill Crane out of self induced fear from the past trauma of his now dead mother that never left. And similarly Hannibal ate people because of how strong the fears from his trauma were, killing and eating people were the only ways to silence it…” I said, getting more frightened with each word that came out of my mouth. 

“Oh is that so?” Billy asked, looking at Stu who held the gun up. 

“So tell me Billy, was it possibly because your father was hooking up with Sid's mom causing your mother to leave giving you a strong sense of abandonment that could only be silenced by killing the cause?” I asked, closing my eyes ready for my death. 

I could tell Stu was shocked too, he didn’t even know… did he?

Billy backed away, pacing around. He pointed the knife up saying, “Ya know (y/n), you should really take up psychology, right Stu?” 

“Right Billy,” Stu said with a laugh, earring him a glare from Billy. 

“So what are you going to do to me?” I asked

Billy took my hand and twirled me into his arms. Placing one around my torso and the other behind my head, “Darling, I’m not gonna hurt you… I’m just gonna bash your brains in!” 

“Jack Torrance, The Shining,” I said before biting my lip trying not to cry again. Force of habit? 

“It’s just a little fun! Lighten up!” Stu shouted and laughed, still having the gun at eye level. 

“Just pretend it’s all a scary movie, (y/n). How do you think it’s going to end?” Billy asked, moving his hand from the back of my head to my hair. 

Before I could say anything Stu exclaimed, “Oh-oh this is the greatest part! You’re gonna love this! We got a surprise for ya, (y/n)! Yeah you’re gonna love this one! It’s a scream baby!” Before leaving the kitchen. 

“You two really had me fooled, ya know?” I said, leaning my head to the side. 

“What do you mean?” Billy asked, running the knife along my body. 

“I mean I actually thought you two liked me...from the moment you confessed to when Stu kissed me at the party,” I said, laughing as a tear ran down my cheek. 

“We do (y/n), we honestly do like you but this is necessary for the plot,” Billy said, stroking my hair. 

“What plot Billy? This isn’t a scary movie… The credits aren’t going to roll after I’m dead, it won’t be a jump shot twenty years later when you two have happy little suburban families…” I said as I started crying harder. 

“Oh what do we have behind door number three (y/n)?!” Stu exclaimed as he came back into the kitchen dragging someone in

“Neil!” I shouted trying to rush to him only to be yanked back by Billy. 

“Woah hold it, that’s enough,” Billy says as he secures me to his chest. 

Picking the distorter off the counter Stu said, “Guess we won’t be needing this anymore, huh?” before shoving it in Neil’s pocket.

 “And oh look at this, ring ring? Won’t need this,” Stu said again, this time shoving a compact black cellphone into the pocket

“Got the ending figured out yet (y/n)?!” Billy shouted as he jostled my body around. 

“C’mon (y/n), ya think about it! Your stepdaddy is the chief suspect! We cloned his cellular, the evidence is all there!” Stu shouted as he pointed at Neil then shoved him to the ground. 

“Neil snapped, his wife’s murder anniversary made him snap, sending him on a murder spree killing everyone-'' Billy was cut off. 

“Except for Billy and me, we were left for dead,” Stu said with a wild expression as he rotated his fingers between him and Billy. 

“Then he kills you,” Billy started again, “Then he shoots himself in the head. Perfect ending.” 

“I thought of that,” Stu said with a big smile as Billy tossed me to the side. 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” I shouted, making the two boys pause. 

“What?” They both said. 

“Seriously Stu? You’re the one who wanted to kill me after you tried to get with me like a week ago, then kissed me four hours ago? And yet you’re the one that wanted me dead, now that, that there is just fucking perfect!” I shouted pacing around and running my hands through my hair and down my shoulders. 

“Seriously? You’re getting upset about that right now?” Billy asked

“Yeah no shit I am! I’ve processed every other fucking thing in the world but this is the shit that still baffles me the most!” I shouted again, hot tears streaming down my face. 

“Just get on with it already man!” Stu exclaimed, ignoring everything I just said. 

As Billy was about to stab his friend ‘for the sake of the plot’, I said, “Back the fuck up Norman Bates,” Shoving Billy back and taking the knife before he could say anything. 

“What are you-” Stu stopped and cried in pain as I stabbed him, staying to the side and not going too deep, “What the fuck, (y/n)?” 

Judging by the way Billy was looking at him the entire time, I won’t be the one to kill him. 

“How’s that for the fucking plot! Asshole!” I screamed in his face as I grabbed the collar of his shirt. 

Grabbing Stu’s hand I shoved the knife handle into his palm and said, “I just wanted to help,” in a sneering tone. 

I know what you’re thinking, stupid right? I know what I’m doing. 

Billy being as delusional as he was right now ignored my behavior and told Stu to just carry on, so he did. 

“Ah fuck! Jesus Christ!” Billy cried out as he slammed himself against the kitchen’s island, “Fuck, goddamit Stu!” 

“I’m sorry Billy, I guess I got a little too zealous, huh?” Stu said as he looked right at me. 

“Give me the knife,” Billy commanded. 

“No,” Stu said, like a child that didn’t want to share his toy.

“Give me the knife! NOW!” Billy commanded louder, like the mother ready to punish their child.

“See (y/n), everybody dies but us. Everybody dies but us! We can carry on and plan the sequel! Let’s face it baby, these days- you gotta have a sequel!” Stu shouted, spitting up saliva like a rabid animal. 

Flinching at the sound of Stu getting stabbed again I said, “You sick fucks, you’ve seen one too many movies. And that’s a lot coming from me.” 

“Now (y/n), don’t blame the movies! Movies don’t create psychos, movies make psychos more creative!” Billy yells as he gashes Stu again. 

“Billy you’re going to fucking kill him!” I shout, even though I should be relieved that it’s going to be one down one to go I just… I can’t 

“Yeah stop it Billy, I can’t take anymore… I’m feeling woozy here!” Stu shouts out, leaning over. 

“Alright, ya know what you get the gun and I’ll untie pops, okay?” Billy commands as he holds the knife to Stu’s chin, “NOW!” 

Stu gives a hushed, “Alright” as he walks over Neil and to the desk where the gun should be. 

“Um, uhm, Heuston we have a problem here,” Stu says as he turns around. 

Now pointing the knife at me Billy asks, “What?” 

“The gun, man! The gun I put it right there and it's not there,” Stu panics in a laugh. 

Walking over to Stu Billy shouts, “Where the fuck is it?!” 

“Right here asshole,” Said none other than Gale Weathers from the kitchen door frame, pointing the gun at Billy. 

Never in my life have I ever thought I’d be happy to see her. 

“I thought she was dead,” Billy said, looking over at Stu and gesturing to Gale with his knife. 

“She looked dead, man,” Stu said in shock before changing to a funny tone and saying, “She still does.”

“I’ve got an ending for you, the reporter left for dead in the news van? Comes to,” She said as she wielded the gun with a shaky hand. 

She kept going but I really wasn’t listening, I was more so worried about my life, Neil’s life, partially her life, and sadly even the boys’ lives. 

Standing up straight I said, “I like that ending,” Getting the attention of Stu who looked a little hurt by my words. 

And just like that my savior becomes my doom when Billy yanks the gun from her hand and kicks her right out the door. Fuck. 

I take this chance to run from the boys, I drag Neil away as well. Taking the phone and voice distorter from his pocket before shoving him and myself in the closet. 

Once in a secure spot I dialed the house number, Billy answered with a “Hello?” 

Holding the voice distorter to my mouth I speak into the phone, “Are you alone in the house?” 

“Bitch, you bitch! Where the fuck are you?!” Billy shouts getting more frustrated by the second. 

“Not so fast, we’re going to play a little game. It’s called-” I removed the distorter, “guess who just called the police and reported your sorry motherfucking ass?!” 

“Find her you dipshit! GET UP!” Billy shouted into the phone again but this time directed at Stu. 

I couldn’t hear much of what Stu said but I definitely did hear, “I think I���m dyin here man,” 

My breath hitched. 

“Hello?” Stu said into the phone 

“Awe Stu, Stu, Stu baby what’s your motive? Billy’s got one, the police are on their way, what are you going to tell them?” I asked, trying not to focus on the feeling of my heartbreaking. 

“Peer pressure, I’m far too sensitive-” Stu was cut off by Billy. 

“I’m gonna rip you up bitch, just like your sister and her whore mother!” Billy shouted into the phone. 

“Better find me first, delusional, traumatized, mama’s boy! At least, before the cops find you,” I’m sure they could both hear me smirking through the phone.

I could hear the boys shouting and crashing things around the house as I just stood here with my heart racing. 

“Hey babe… did you really call the police?” Stu asked into the phone. 

“Oh baby, Stu, you bet your sorry little oblivious lap dog ass I did,” I said trying to stifle a laugh but not let tears fall down my cheeks at the same time. 

It hurt so much, all of it. Knowing they wanted to kill me but in a way still harbored these twisted feelings. 

“My mom and dad are gonna be so mad as me,” Stu whined like a little kid. Okay that’s it I’m just trying not to laugh at this point. 

Billy was frantically searching when he opened the door to my hiding stop. Before he could spot me he was caught off guard by Laurie screaming as Michael slashed down the panels of the closet in Halloween. I took this as my opportunity to strike, literally. I took an umbrella and rammed both it and him into the wall, puncturing his skin. Just one more time, for good measure. He toppled down and I kicked the gun far away feeling triumphant. 

  That was before Stu came barrelling into the room trying to shove me to the ground. This just backfired and I landed on top of him, straddling him down. “Ya know babe, if you weren’t trying to kill me, this would be pretty hot,” I whispered into his ear before punching one of his stab wounds. 

  I shot up and made a break for it before Stu flipped us both over the couch. We landed on the ground, the coffee table sliding after we hit it, pillow feathers everywhere. “I really did have a thing for you, (y/n), I really did!” He shouted in my face as he pinned me down. “After this? Yeah I call-” pausing as I kicked him off of me, “bullshit,” getting up and seeing Stu on the floor. I kicked him one last time in the face knocking his head into the coffee table leaving a big bloody gash in the back of his head. Yeah, no way he’s coming back from that one, I thought. 

  Walking back into the entry room where most of the bodies were I knelt down by Billy noticing the Ghostface mask on the floor. It must’ve fallen out of the closet when I came at Billy. I practically jumped out of my skin when a hand grasped my arm! 

“Sorry, sorry,” Randy said as he rocked back and forth. 

“Oh my god Randy, I thought you were dead!” I shouted out in relief. 

“I probably should be, I never thought I’d be so happy to be a virgin,” Randy exclaimed. 

 I would’ve laughed had he not been punched in the face a second later. 

“You fucker!” Billy shouted as he pulled me up by my shirt collar and slammed me to the ground. 

I wrestled with Billy for a second before he started choking me and said, “Say hello to Sid and her mother!” 

No way I’m going out like this so I stuck my finger deep into the spot where I punctured him with the umbrella. 

Just as Billy lifted his arm in the air to retaliate by stabbing me, someone shot him in the chest! 

Frantically gasping for air I turn over and get up seeing that it was Gale Weathers who shot him. Guess she was my savior afterall. 

“C’mon, get up,” I said as I hoisted Randy up, walking him over to Gale as I took the gun from her. 

“Guess who remembered the safety that time? You bastard,” Gale said referring to what Billy said earlier. 

I kicked Billy under the leg to make sure he was actually dead. 

“Careful, this is the moment when the supposedly dead killer comes back to life, for one last scare” Randy warned me as if I didn’t know. 

Billy jolts back up like lightning!

Just like it was second nature I pulled the trigger landing a shot right to his head!

“Not in this movie he doesn’t,” I said as I started walking away. 

Just then a loud crash was heard from the closet and we all screamed! 

“Oh shit, Neil!” I exclaimed as I ran up to him getting randy to help me free him. 

  The after shock of everything that took place happened so fast. The police came and rushed everyone out of the house. Dewey had lived but he might have some serious injuries. Gale, Randy, Neil, and I were all checked out by paramedics. And of course Gale being Gale went on air to talk about what happened. It all felt great, relieved, almost surrealistically amazing to have escaped it all. At least it had until an officer came out of the house to tell me, “We couldn’t find the bodies of the two you reported as the killers…” “What?” Was all I could say as I stared over at my loved ones… trying to comprehend it all once again. Fear and dread washed over me but deep down a small drop of solace started to bloom.

This wasn’t the end of Ghostface. 

Taglist: @katie-tibo @thatoneuchiha @honeybee54321 @lolwey @livingordeadwhoknows @theomegaofvodka

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 28 - Back to Indiana

Summary: Who knew being famous was going to be hard work?

Word Count: 999 (GOD!)

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Homesickness, angst, hurt/comfort, possibility of Steddie

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Dorothy Gale was right when she said “there’s no place like home.”

But in place of a tornado, the thing that uprooted their lives was stardom.

One minute they were a garage band from a town no one heard of, and the next an overnight success with a record deal and songs on the radio and talk show performances multiple times a week.

Well, maybe it wasn’t an overnight thing.

But it happened so fast in hindsight.

And suddenly they were not in Kansas anymore. Or rather, not in Indiana anymore. Or Illinois. Or any of the so-called flyover states of the Midwest that had been their bread and butter for a while.

No, suddenly they were in Los Angeles. A new world, a new reality, new apartments and new clothes.

People didn’t even talk the same. They talked too fast. It was soda, not pop. And no one said excuse me or ope or even smiled at you.

The homesickness hit them hard and fast.

Eddie tried to be the best influence he could be.

“We just have to keep moving forward,” he encouraged them all. “Things will get better soon.”

At the end of the day though, he probably had it worse out of all of them. And they all knew it.

Especially when he spent an hour hogging the phone every night to talk to Wayne or Dustin or Robin or, hell, even Steve Harrington had become an unexpected lifeline.

“Everything’s so different,” Eddie whispered into the receiver late one night. It was after midnight in LA, which meant it was well past 3 in Indiana; what he was doing talking to Steve so late he didn’t know. All he knew was, Steve was the only one guaranteed to pick up.

“Why don’t you come back for the weekend?” Steve suggested. "Big rockstar, you can afford a plane ticket back."

"Can't afford a day off in the studio," Eddie sighed tiredly and then realized how unenthusiastic he sounded. This was his dream, why did he sound like it was the worst thing in the world?

He tried to recover by adding, "we're so close to finishing this album, it's going to be great, it just needs a little more time."

"I get it, Eddie," he could practically hear Steve nodding through the phone. "Listen, I'm sure Dustin's mom will make her famous scalloped potatoes when you do."

"God," Eddie groaned. "Don't get me started about the food out here too man."

Steve just laughed and Eddie promised--Steve, God, himself...he didn't know, "I'll take a trip home once we're done. Once things are better."

Things just didn't get better overnight though.

With everyone so desperate for a break, they pushed themselves harder, which led to them getting frustrated more easily. Frustration made them screw up, which delayed things longer, which made them fight more.

Until it all came to a head.

And an entire day that was supposed to be dedicated to recording suddenly became a day of the four of them sitting on a curb crying and venting to each other.

They missed their families, missed their beds, missed each other. Because their friendship certainly wasn't what it had been in the past.

Everything was strange and different, and they all admitted that they were having a hard time adjusting.

"I don't understand," Jeff sniffed. "This was supposed to be everything we ever wanted."

"I miss having fun with you guys," Gareth groaned. "This...it was supposed to be us playing for people and having fun."

"This is just work," Dave added. "I could've stayed at DQ and we kept playing at the Hideout."

They all looked to Eddie, relying on the motivational speech he surely had in store for them because he always seemed to have one. Instead, they watched him sit there with his head in his hands as the curtain pulled back and the reality of his dream and theirs was revealed to be something they never expected.

Then he said something they never expected him to say:

"Maybe we just need a break."

And the guys...they could have fought about it, could have let it rile them up. But a break sounded so good to them.

They walked back into the studio as a united front and demanded a few days off from their manager Phil.

"I was waiting for this day to come," he said. "You guys gotta know your limits; I'm not an absolute tyrant."

Within 48 hours their bags were packed, tickets bought, and they were on a plane for a short little break back home.

Eddie only called Wayne, left a message on the answering machine so his uncle wouldn't die of fright when he found Eddie passed out in bed.

It would only be a short break; he didn't think he needed to tell anyone else.

Leave it to Wayne to surprise him.

Gareth was the first one to see when they stepped off the escalator and into baggage claim; he took off running to hug his mom, ignoring his bandmates and the awws of the rest of their family and friends who'd showed up to welcome them home.

Eddie was shocked that he had more than just Wayne there. He had Dustin and his mom, tray of scalloped potatoes in hand, ready to scoop a heaping portion for everyone right there at the airport.

Robin was there too, along with Nancy and Mike, who was proudly sporting a Corroded Coffin shirt that he begged Eddie to let him buy once upon a time, insisting he was cool enough.

And then there was Steve.

Who stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, until Eddie got to him.

"Heard through the grapevine you were coming back to Indiana," he laughed. "Guess you weren't such a hardhead and took my advice after all."

Eddie just laughed and pulled him into a hug too, hand patting Steve heartily on the back.

"Yeah, there's no place like home."

[mattness]

useful things

Summary: Who knew that in the basements of abandoned houses there are such interesting and very useful things?

Characters: Sylvia Amarië/Astarion Ancunin

Genres: PWP, Humor, Romantic, Fluff

18+

Sorry for stupid mistakes in my translation, but anyway... Have fun reading!

There is full of abandoned basements and long-looted houses in Rivington. But despite this, they still managed to find precious stones or things that could be sold to local merchants. Money and good equipment were sorely lacking. However, she didn't really care about gold when she came across a good book on magic or other useful things among the old dusty junk.

In another basement of an abandoned house, where they had climbed under the pretext of helping some fool find an old magic lamp where gin was supposedly sitting, Sylvia was carefully examining a bookshelf. The shelves were covered with a thick layer of dust. Thin strands of cobwebs stretched from one book to another. Some of the spines have faded paint. Running her finger over them, Sylvia suddenly stopped at a book in a velvet burgundy cover with no title. Curiosity was immediately aroused. She opened the book. The pages have long faded and turned yellow. The ink is worn in places, but, in general, the text can be read. The elf's pointed ears instantly turned red. There was a blush on her cheeks. Scrolling to the very beginning, she was surprised when she saw the title, but she didn't really have time to read anything in more detail, hearing Shadowheart's voice.

“Did you find something?”

“No”, Sylvia said, slamming the book shut. A pile of dust hit her right in the face, unpleasantly tickling her nose. “Nothing special, some junk”, she muttered, sneezing loudly the next minute.

“God bless you, sweetheart”, Astarion's voice rang out from the other end of the basement. “I don't understand why the hell we have to rummage around here. That idiot probably lied to us about the lamp. Because if I were crooks and scoundrels, I would have stolen this lamp and sold it long ago. Before that, of course, using all the desires.”

“Well, he said that no one robbed the house. Only the ghosts came from somewhere”, added Gale, who was rummaging through a shelf with flasks and bottles.

While they chatted casually among themselves, Sylvia carefully stuffed the old book into her backpack, hoping that no one would notice and discover the strange find later. After a little theft, it became an impossible task to focus on finding the gin lamp. Her thoughts kept returning to the book in her backpack, waiting for Sylvia's curious nose to poke into it again. Fortunately, Shadowheart found the lamp, noticing it in a pile of junk next to a bookshelf. However, it turned out to be the same pile of junk, and no genie appeared in front of them when Astarion rubbed the edge of the rusty metal.

They returned the lamp to the unfortunate old man and received the desired money, after which they went to the camp. Dusk fell on the outskirts of the Lower City. A cool wind was blowing from the sea. Sylvia quickly retreated to her tent. There was plenty of time before dinner, so she couldn't wait to get back to the stolen book.

«Notes on pleasures and other love tips for the inhabitants of Faerûn» — that's what the book was called. Sylvia, who knew quite a bit about these very pleasures due to the lack of normal experience, flipped through the pages with the curiosity of a child and felt her cheeks blush every now and then. The author described in detail various caresses and ways how you can give pleasure not only to yourself, but also to your partner. She was reading excitedly, already wanting to check out some things on Astarion, but suddenly her purple eyes caught on a paragraph almost in the middle of the book. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Cheeks instantly flushed, and the question arose in her head: "Is it possible?", and then another one: "Why didn't I figure it out earlier?"

She hunched over, buried her nose in the book, trying to absorb all the details and remember exactly what to do and how to do it. Without teeth, so as not to cause discomfort. Take your time to prolong the pleasure. Do not forget about the control. Control? Sylvia was embarrassed. It was hardly possible to think of any control in such a situation... If just the thought of it caused such a violent reaction now, then it's scary to imagine what it would be like for her directly in action.

“Are you going to eat?” Jaheira's voice rang out next to the tent.

“Yeah, yeah, now”, Sylvia muttered, but the book had to be immediately slammed shut and hidden under the pillow, because the tent flap opened. Jaheira looked at her reproachfully. “What?”

“Not "yeah, yeah, now," but now. Although we don't know each other very well, I've already thoroughly studied your habit of ignoring meals because of reading books.”

“Mo-om”, Sylvia drawled sarcastically, which made Jaheira snort. “I'm coming.”

Near the campfire where everyone was gathered, she sat down next to Astarion. They exchanged playful glances, and Sylvia poked him lightly on the shoulder. With a grin, he handed her the bowl of soup that Shadowheart had made.

As usual, the conversation was about anything but their most important problem — the tadpole in their heads and the fight against the Absolute. In the evenings, when their strength was running out, they all wanted to relax and not think about the worries that the coming day would bring.

After dinner, Sylvia clung to Astarion's palms and followed him as he led her to his tent. The only thing that bothered her was Gale's tent nearby. As if there wasn't enough free space. She smiled stupidly at the wizard, who noticed them, but didn't react in any way, and sat down on the pillows while Astarion methodically lit candles on a small table. They chatted casually for a couple of hours before bedtime, sometimes interrupting for gentle glances and touches. And with each gentle kiss, she was more and more impatient to come to him at night to conduct a little experiment. However, her stupid shyness didn't allow her to even hint at what dirty thoughts were on her mind.

Just as Sylvia was about to leave, she turned around and tilted her head to one side when Astarion, lounging impressively on the pillows, asked:

“Will I come to you tonight, Sisi?”

“Sure.” She nodded, and then added softly, “Are you hungry?”

“Madly.”

Sylvia, grinning, silently went to her tent.

Desire was slowly but surely creeping up. It inflamed her from the inside, and the book only enhanced the effect. In the tent, she plopped down on a bedroll, enthusiastically reading on and learning more and more details. Biting her lips, Sylvia wondered how it would go, would she ruin their evening with her inept attempts to diversify their leisure time, or would it be one of the best nights?.. Some excitement mixed with anticipation gripped her mind. Waiting only spoils everything. Thoughts were confused in her head, and vulgar images made her squeeze her knees together. At one point, she was ready to lean out of the tent and loudly call Astarion to her. Fortunately, he had already looked in, smiling slyly.

Noticing the book in her hands, he got closer and asked:

“What are you reading?”

Biting her lower lip, she held out the book. Astarion's curious gaze immediately began to study the text. After a moment, a sly grin appeared on his face. Ruby eyes twinkled slyly.

“You're a little mischief, Sisi”, he whispered hoarsely and ran his finger along her chin. Sylvia blushed. “Where did you get this?”

“In that old man's house.”

Astarion raised his eyebrows in surprise. He flipped through a few pages and read it again. Sylvia rested her chin on his shoulder.

“You're not only a mischief, but you're also a bad girl”, he added after a minute, and embarrassed laughter filled the silence. “Who did you get all this from? Hm?”

“I have no idea”, she smiled playfully. Taking the book out of his hands, Sylvia flipped to the right page and timidly admitted, “I want to try this.” Astarion, seeing only one name, chuckled. He doesn't need to read the descriptions and other details. Perhaps this book has nothing to offer him at all. He's too knowledgeable.

Sylvia put down the book, and Astarion stared at her for a long time.

“And how strong is your desire to try?”

After a moment's hesitation, she bent down and gently touched her lips to his neck, where the scar from the bite was. The hot tongue left a wet mark on the skin near the earlobe. Astarion laughed at the slight tickle.

“I really want to make you feel good”, her breath burned his ear. Her fingers gently slid down his neck to the collar of his shirt. Astarion looked into violet eyes full of desire and mischievous curiosity. “Of course, I have no experience at all, but I really want to try everything new with you.”

“How badly I influence you, darling”, Astarion grinned and kissed her on the lips. Sylvia mumbled languidly in response. “But who am I to stop you?”

The next wet kiss almost drove them crazy. Sylvia settled confidently on his hips, feeling how his cold palms immediately got under the fabric of her thin shirt. Goosebumps slid up her back to her neck. She exhaled into Astarion's lips, who pulled her closer to him, placing his palm possessively on her ass.

Without further ado, they leisurely stripped each other of their clothes. With each kiss and touch, Sylvia became more confident. Desire overwhelmed her. And tonight she completely took the initiative into her own hands, and Astarion obediently gave in and patiently waited for what she would do next.

Gently pushing him in the shoulders, she forced him to lie down on the pillows, and she began to make a path of kisses from his chin to his stomach. Methodically and enthusiastically. She enjoyed every inch of his cold, pale skin. The relief of the muscles made her head spin, and a knot tightened in the lower abdomen, requiring discharge. But Sylvia tried to remember what was written in the book, and enthusiastically continued to caress first Astarion's chest, and then his stomach.

His breathing became ragged and hoarse. Soft moans softly touched her ears. Sylvia circled his navel with her tongue and finally began to descend lower until she came across the fabric of his pants.

The besotted gaze of the purple eyes met his playful one.

Astarion, propping himself up on his elbows, watched with special delight as her deft fingers pulled his pants down along with his underpants. She did it carefully, taking her time. Her hands were shaking a little, just like on their very first night. Her excitement didn't allow her to act decisively. Sylvia tossed his pants and underpants aside and suddenly smiled shyly at him. At the last moment, she hesitated, not knowing how to begin.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Sisi”, Astarion said gently, seeing her hesitation. “We can—”

“No. I want to”, she ran her hands over his hips, “just... a little shy.”

He lay back down on the pillows with his hands behind his head.

“Do not rush. You have the whole night before dawn. Maybe your shyness will pass”, he grinned teasingly, and Sylvia, wrinkling her nose, poked him in the side with her finger. “Ouch!”

The look of ruby eyes crossed with violet ones, in which truly devilish sparks danced. Astarion couldn't help but chuckle, and then bit his lower lip as she bent down again and began to cover his lower abdomen with kisses. Sylvia tried to push away all her embarrassment and excitement. Lines from the book popped into her head. Need to be braver. It must be remembered that Astarion will definitely like it. So she pulled back a little, took his aroused flesh in her hand and ran her palm along it a couple of times. In response, there was a languid moan, spurring to more confident caresses.

Sylvia's ears and cheeks were burning with excitement. She ran her tongue along the trunk, feeling how this minor action excited her more, and made Astarion exhale. Another groan rang out throughout the tent. Sylvia took his cock in her mouth and slowly began to move. Finally, the embarrassment receded, and there was nothing left but a burning desire to bring him to intoxicating ecstasy.

Sylvia pulled back to catch her breath. She looked at him blearily and smiled seductively, licking her lips. His chest was heaving heavily. His face was filled with languor, and his eyes shone with bliss. Astarion smiled at her, whispering:

“Don't worry, Sisi, I love it.”

Sylvia bent down, ran her tongue over the head and took the penis back into her mouth, acting more confidently, accelerating. Her fingers gripped his thigh. Everything was burning between her legs, and she wanted to be in a different position as soon as possible. To feel him inside. But she reminded herself with every friction that she needed to please him.

Suddenly, Astarion's soft, confused whisper began to reach her pointy ears. Her name was repeated over and over again, like a mantra. The moans grew louder and longer. His fingers dug into her golden curls, which tickled his hips slightly with every movement.

Instantly, the world around him ceased to exist. She concentrated on the rhythm, which she set herself, closing her eyes. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. Astarion's moans, like the most beautiful music in the world, caressed her ears. The knot in her lower abdomen tightened, demanding immediate release, but she tried to ignore her own desire until the last moment.

“Sisi, my sweet...” he whispered haltingly, and pressed his palm a little harder on the back of the elf's head, gathering her golden hair into a fist. “Yes... That's so good...”

Another moan, full of pleasure, escaped from his lips, and it seemed to be heard far beyond the tent. However, the pleasure is so great that Astarion didn't care at all if anyone else would hear them. Pleasant cramps passed through his muscles, causing the body to tremble as Sylvia accelerated. The highest point of ecstasy was inexorably approaching.

“Baby, wait”, Astarion breathed, and Sylvia somehow forced herself to pull away. Her cheeks were flushed, as were her ears, and her lips were seductively shiny. Her gaze is wild, besotted. Just the sight of her right now could drive him crazy. Astarion found the strength and sat down to pull her to him by the neck, biting into her lips with a passionate kiss. It was strange to feel his own taste, but Astarion didn't disdain. He only moaned again when he felt her palm on his cock throbbing with excitement. A few more movements brought him to orgasm. Astarion shuddered as he came. His sweet moan filled the entire tent. His heart skipped a beat.

Sylvia pulled back and looked into his eyes, full of true pleasure.

“Well, did I manage?” she asked slyly in a whisper. She wiped her hand, stained with his seed, on the blanket. Astarion took a deep breath with a blissful groan and smiled.

“It's not bad for the first time, darling”, he pronounced the verdict, as if he were a judge in a tournament, and pulled her to him, sitting her on his hips, which were still trembling a little from the pleasure he received. Sylvia ran her hands over his shoulders, which were covered with beads of sweat. “But practice doesn't hurt.”

She laughed softly.

“You're burning up”, Astarion whispered. His hand slid down her back and slowly moved to her stomach. Sylvia bit her lower lip and pressed her forehead against his. Another timid groan rang through the tent. Astarion's fingers shamelessly slid between her legs, starting to caress her clitoris. “Do you want me, Sisi?”

“Yeah”, she breathed languidly, “badly.”

The next moment, she was on the blanket, pinned down by the weight of Astarion's body, who didn't think to stop for a second. His persistent caresses and kisses made her heart beat faster, and moans burst from her lips again and again. Sylvia lost herself in an overwhelming languor, and she could have sworn that she had never experienced anything better before.

It got hot. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Her cheeks were burning again. A slight tremor ran through her entire body as Astarion showered her lower abdomen and spread her legs wider, digging his nails into the skin of her thighs. He wasn't going to leave her without a reward for such zeal. A hot tongue slid between Sylvia's wet labia, and she shuddered again, moaning.

It didn't take much effort to bring her to orgasm. Astarion watched with special delight as she arched and moaned loudly, for once not shy about being heard. Then, breathing heavily, she relaxed and met his gaze with red, full of passion, eyes.

To top it off, Astarion showered with kisses on the inside of her thighs and only then hovered over her, biting into her swollen lips. Sylvia groaned again. Hands settled on his back, gently stroking the scarred skin.

“I hope you will continue to read this book”, Astarion smiled maliciously, touching her nose with his in a chaste kiss. Sylvia giggled softly. “I really love your eagerness to experiment.”

“I'm ready to explore everything inside and out, just to please you”, she whispered and stroked his chest with her palm.

“You're just precious thing. Well, did you catch your breath?” he asked slyly, and Sylvia raised her eyebrows in surprise. The next moment, another groan filled the tent. The elf smiled languidly. A hot whisper burned her ear: “I suggest we do without experiments now and repeat the old-fashioned way.”

Of course, she didn't refuse and with great pleasure responded to a new passionate kiss, while the book, which had been found completely by accident, lay somewhere at their feet and waited in the wings. Who knew that in the basements of abandoned houses there are such interesting and very useful things.

[my-names-angel-but-im-not-one]

Replaced or not ?

Part-1 Part-2 Part-3 Part-4 Part-5 Part-6

For summary and details check out part-1

Pairing: Obey me Characters x reader

"Than you so much Lucien you don't know how much you're helping me right now"

"Well it's nothing you get a place I get to satisfy my curiosity about you and you know ...the offer was not a joke from my side it still stand" Lucien said smirking at you

"umm....you know I don't feel that towards you"

"hahaha I know hon I'm just kidding"

"uh okay" you said a bit uneasy.

______________________

"hahahaa, oh my god I can't believe you fooled those lords" run hai spoke to me through phone

"I know right I wasn't that hard " I replied to her " But it was all because of you ..if you weren't there to alert me then and there I may would've been in the grasp of those demons"

"it's not a problem y/n if a human won't help you then who will" run hai spoke

[FLASHBACK]

"these are the two are the human exchange students" diavolo spoke as you and run hai stood there

There was 7 other demons standing in front of you both you . Run hai was there confused she's still taking time understanding what's happening here meanwhile you were standing there with a 'fuck it' expression.

The demon brothers were looking at you and only at you .

_______________

"Did you saw that" run hai spoke after we settled in our separate room.

"Saw what?"

"The way they were looking at you!!"

"umm well I thought I was being dramatic but i guess not"

" look I've read too many books about how this end up"

"Mee too....wanna help me out?"

"How!?"

"well i just gotta move outta this house you know"

"How are exactly planning on that?"

" Well.....how much do You like them"

________________

[FLASHBACK END]

________________

"Well you wanted their attention and i didn't so it worked out in the end i guess" you said.

"Well yeah , i mean everything is just like you said , you're soo smart!!" Run hai spoke giggling throught the phone .

'Oh my god i could imagin her twirling her hair , stupid girl i just hope she don't open her mouth if the brothers became too obsessed with her' you thought as you rolled your eyes.

"Well yeah thanks for your help, i hang up now" you said not wanting to talk to her anymore.

"Aww thought we coulda talk more but anyways bieee ... Wait asmo what are you doing!"

[BEEP BEEP]

"Huh?? What was that should i call her again.......no nevermind" you said . You laid on your bed provided Lucien thinking about how your plans of getting away from them and moving out from the HOL all worked out in the end . 'Well i didn't do anything bad i just didn't wanted for them to get obsessed with me'. You thought as you closed your eyes

_________________

[MEANWHILE IN HOL]

"You better explain this sweetie"

.

[A/N]: well sorry for the delay i was thinking about making run hai a good person but I can't since the real life one is actually a bitch😭 gomen gomen. And maybe I'll tell y'all her real name someday it's really similar to this once *wink wink*

Tag list: {closed}

@obeymediasimp @c4xcocoa @gatorcatally @trisharay13 @candydreamer122 @hasty-desert @your-next-daydream @morphit @enheduannasposts @misscaller06 @buggaboorenegade @ellie3467 @hoeinthehouse @dreamieeesposts @viemags @arnixx @shycreatorsandwich @i-dont-know-what-to-name @gamerhumayra @gale-vendavel @darlink-xoxo @lunar-sangtsu @teal-clouds-sword @amandarosebts @sleepy-lune

[snippydippy]

A little blurb I wrote where my Tav has a breakdown after Elminster's bad news visit.

Not sure why I wrote it from Astarion's perspective, it just flowed out that way. They are just barely friends, but he can be kind sometimes. It helps that he doesn't like Mystra either.

Astarion found Elise standing on her own on the outer rim of the campsite. She faced away from the party's tents, over the cliff side and out into the sprawling view of trees, rivers, ruins and waterfalls. The setting sun cast rays of light across the land, and onto her. The whole thing would make a rather romantic picture, except the Vampire knew she was in quite the state.

Elminster, the most famous Wizard in Faerun had just paid the group a visit, and bore some...troubling news, to say the absolute least. The very embodiment of magic and the goddess of the weave, Mystra had commanded that Gale use the Netherese Orb lodged in his chest to end The Absolute, and his own life in the process. And the wizard seemed immediately of the mind to obey in a frankly disheartening desire for her forgiveness.

After Elminster had made his leave, Astarion caught the tail end of conversation between Gale and Elise. She was distraught, but firm in telling the man that his group of capable friends (a strong word, Astarion had thought), would find another way to end the Absolute, and that she would not allow him to kill himself. He'd heard Gale's voice grow indignant, saying that she should, "keep such assuredness in check until we've seen the severity of the threat we face." And that she "may reconsider her stance" once they had.

He'd heard Elise, angry for the first time since he'd met her, say back with wet eyes, "I won't. We already know The Absolute is a threat to the entire Sword Coast, and yet I'm still not willing to sacrifice you. I will not lose you, Gale!" 

Astarion observed the look they exchanged with each other from a distance, but could read a number of emotions between the two of them. Anger, sadness. Desperation.

He knew neither of them had said in any certain terms how they felt for the other, and doubted they were either even aware of mutual feelings for certain. However, they'd both have to be complete idiots not to know it now. Gods knew everyone else did.

Elise has turned away then. Astarion assumed she was too overwhelmed by the moment. As was Gale, going by the positively bewildered look on his face as she hurried away. Awash with feelings anyone would likely have a hard time pinning down.

Probably elation, to know someone cared enough for him to argue against the wishes of a goddess. A devoted cleric no less, who knew better than most the weight of a direct command. Maybe guilt for putting said person in the middle of such heavy affairs. Maybe anger at Elise for denying him his chance at forgiveness, or maybe anger at Mystra for dangling it in front of him in this way. Likely all of these.

Astarion could speculate all evening, but ultimately what the wizard was feeling was of little interest to him. He personally thought Mystra's "charge" was ridiculous, but was not about to have a discussion with Gale himself about it.

Astarion had given it a couple hours for minds to gather and emotions to cool before he sought Elise out. He stood behind her at the cliff now, contemplating how he wanted to approach her. Uncertain why he felt compelled to in the first place. This whole thing really wasn't his concern (aside from the threat to his immediate person, should Gale detonate nearby). He and Elise were not exactly "close" by any normal standards, and it's not as though he thought he'd have anything particularly helpful to contribute, but that look in her eyes as she stormed off before...

"I can not believe Mystra expects Gale to blow himself up with the Absolute!" He said aloud, striding over to her side. He caught her flinch, but she did not look up at him. Her eyes were locked on nothing in the distance. He continued, his tone dismissive, "What a waste of a perfectly good cult we could be controlling! And..a perfectly good Gale, I suppose."

He heard her exhale with a tight, barely there smile that vanished as quickly as it came. Her hands were together, moving restlessly as she absentmindedly (with an absolutely packed mind) churned her fingers, picking at various injuries and calluses across her skin. A long silence settled between them.

"It's...quite the situation he's in." Elise finally said, a strange quality to her voice, "Quite the choice to make. I'm...I'm afraid of what he wants to do."

"He wants to go through with it. Stubborn idiot." Astarion humorlessly chuckled.

"I think I'm in love with him." Elise said suddenly, with the quickest glance to Astarion before she thought better of it, eyes flicking back to the open landscape.

Astarion blinked in surprise. Of course he knew how she felt about Gale. As mentioned before, the only two people in the whole camp who seemed none the wiser were the two fools involved. But, hearing her admit it so plainly, it definitely wasn't expected. Especially not to him given their...history.*

Astarion said nothing, letting his silence be her encouragement to go on, which she seemed to take as such.

"And that's just my luck, isn't it?" She started with her own humorless and breathless laugh. Her composure like a fragile porcelain vase, "I finally find someone who I think would honestly, and truly care for me. Who is everything I'd look for in a partner."

Her feet shift, her hands become more animated as she talks, and her voice grows unsteady, "And the very God he worships comes-No, she sends a dear friend to speak for her! Demands he kill himself in the name of forgiveness. And not just the very deity he worships, who grants him the powers he's dedicated his entire life to, no! She's also his former lover. Who's forgiveness he's been pinning for since angering her in the first place. Who, I..Ha!" A single, somewhat wild laugh, before becoming quiet again, "Someone who I c-…could never compare to."

A quick hand comes up to wipe at her eyes, the other gesturing about, "And I know I am being the most selfish woman alive right now. Nothing, in all the realms, could be any less about me. But, Gods!" The vase cracked along with her voice. She looked to Astarion finally with eyes welled with tears, "I really don't want him to fucking die." And then the vase shattered. Her head turned away again, both hands came to cover her face as her whole body shook with sobs she just couldn't keep back any longer.

Astarion's hand faltered and hung in the air as he reached for her. He didn't quite know what to do. Besides the surprise of seeing a person he knew as well composed and emotionally private come apart in front of him, comforting anyone wasn't exactly something he'd ever say was a strong suit. Not genuine comforting outside of luring, anyway. But, perhaps his previous skills would come in handy here regardless. He cautiously reached out again, his fingers just barely grazing her back when she was suddenly against his chest, crying into his shoulder.

Contact like this wasn't Astarion's favorite thing, and his instinct might have been to back away or push anyone off any other time, but the Vampire would be lying if he said he didn't feel anything for her sorrow. So, he gingerly wrapped an arm around her to place a hand on her back.

Mystra's demand was absurd. For many reasons. The threat to everyone else's lives should the man blow up not being the least of them. Gale was a fool to consider it at all.

And, for all their empty flirting, jabs at one another and bickering, Elise was someone Astarion would consider…considering, a friend. At least, she was someone he could trust. The first in a very long time. Seeing her this upset certainly wasn't amusing by any stretch. He also realized he may have underestimated her feelings for Gale. Clearly not a simple puppy's crush.

"I'm sure we'll find another way." Astarion said with the usual playful lilt absent. Until, "At least, you and the other 'heroes' in our merry band will."

Minutes went by in silence except for Elise's crying that eventually turned to sniffling as she got her emotions under control. Astarion's hand still placidly rested between her shoulder blades until she straightened up from him. She didn't step back just yet, and neither did he, but his hands did go to connect behind his back.

"P-...please don't mention any of this to Gale. To anyone." She said, her hands disguised as wiping tears from both eyes almost definitely there to hide what she could of her face. Astarion imagined she felt a little embarrassed by this outburst, given how reserved she normally was.

He let out his usual guffaw, "Darling, what kind of gossip do you take me for?"

She didn't laugh, but the chastising look she gave him through reddened eyes did at least settle any doubt in his mind that she'd (eventually) be alright.

"I'll keep this between us." He took a step back then, as did she. A mutual understanding of tolerances Astarion appreciated, "Although...Knowing how you feel about him might be in Gale's best interest. It might be enough to sway his mind."

She met his eyes, and for a moment he worried she might start back up again, but Elise only huffed a sigh and crossed her arms as if a chill blew in, "I don't think so. Not when put up against Mystra."

Atsarion fought hard not to roll his eyes. Trifling, manipulative gods and a mortal's insecurity in the face of them. What else was new. "It might be worth a try anyway."

She looked out at the scenery again, avoiding an argument, "I'll tell him in time. Just...not now. I can't. It would feel like I'm only trying to sway him. I don't want there to be any doubts about my sincerity."

Astarion's turn to huff a sigh, "Alright, whatever you say. I'm going back to camp, don't wallow out here all night."

He turned to head back, only getting a couple steps before he felt her hand on his arm, "Wait! Astarion?"

He looked back at her, she let her hand drop away. That tolerance understanding again. "Thank you. For this. For allowing me to just...have a moment. I won't forget it."

Astarion smiled at her. A real one. Almost none of the usual snark behind it. Almost, "You've allowed me to drink from you. Seems the absolute least I could do to allow you to lean on my cold shoulder." He lifted a finger, a sternness covering his features, "Just this once."

Elise nodded, smiling as her friend turned and walked back to his tent.

[fistfuloftarenths]

isn't it a marvel

Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!Tav Rating: G Wordcount: 1400 Genre: Self-indulgence Summary: Tav, Rugan, and Olly after the end of the world has been averted, sitting in a tavern in Waterdeep. Tav causes minor trouble, as is her wont. AO3 link here

Faerun never stayed saved. Not for her, not for anyone. Not even Elminster. On this fine spring afternoon, however, it seemed to have slowed its hurtling towards certain destruction to a near-halt. Tav had some hours to idle away, and meant to make the most of her reprieve. 

The tavern reminded her of the Singing Lute, back in the Gate. Small, cantilevered over the water, and crawling with bards. None of them were familiar to Tav, and yet the conversations she could overhear were the same as ever - someone had a new lute, someone else had finally brought down the hammered dulcimer they’d been talking about for weeks, someone owed someone else money and didn’t have it, someone had a new hat, and - bards being bards -  there was that one table who were convinced of their own natural superiority, and were talking too loud and flinging themselves about in dramatic poses.

Tav and her companions were tucked in a corner, their backs comfortable against the sea wall. Their choice of table is habitual now, much like the way she always checks for other exits. A trellis covered with vines shelters them from the sun and lines of sight, and Rugan has a shield up, just in case. Her chair was tipped back, one booted foot on the railing to keep her balance, and she was quietly running through fingerpicking exercises on her new lute. Yesterday Gale had reinforced it with magic, while Tav paced around his room in an excess of nervous energy. Just because her wizard friend was a genius didn’t mean he understood the importance of tuning, or resonance, and Tav had had to stop herself flinching every time a spell took and sank into the marquetry. 

His calculations had been right, and Tav was delighted with the results. The instrument ought to survive the indignities of the road with aplomb. Tucked away in a pouch she also had a fingerpick ring for the first knuckle of her thumb. This was enchanted to amplify the volume of her lute, but Rugan had taken one look at it and approved of it as a way to take someone’s eye out. 

He was sitting next to her, talking to Olly over a pint of something bitter. Her Zhent looked much the same as he did when she met him. Less blood. His hair wasn’t as grey as it should be, and he’d stopped complaining about his knees a couple of winters ago. Tav had her suspicions about this, but she was reluctant to look a gift Zhent in the mouth, not when she wanted it to keep kissing her for decades yet. In her opinion the gods owed her for that whole tadpole business - still owe her, really. Turned out that getting out of the world-saving business was harder than she’d thought.

Olly looked well, crow-black pulled back in a glossy ponytail and no longer hiding behind his fringe. She wasn’t entirely sure what he did these days, and hadn’t asked, since what she doesn’t know can’t be winkled out of her with magic or torture or both. Regardless, smiles were coming easily on his face, and he was carrying at least two items that were positively seething with enchantment. Whoever he was running with now was much better for him than the Gate crew ever was. Present company excluded.

Tav seized upon a lull in the conversation. “I learned a new one,” she said to Olly, and strummed a little louder so the tune would carry over to him. Rugan, recognising it, sighed heavily. Tav ignored him. “Comes from Moonshae, or so they told me.”

“They're far from staid after a raid,

These men of Zhentil Keep.

They kill off all the women,

For they much prefer the sheep.

The men don't eat their ill-got treat.

Not one of them's a glutton.

So isn't it a marvel

That they always smell of mutton?

Olly laughed. “They used to call us sheepfuckers at home. Busted some heads about it as a boy. Or tried to.” 

“Met a man from Ashabenford who claimed goats were a better lay than sheep,” Rugan added. “Said they were friskier.” As with most of Rugan’s stories, it was impossible to tell if he was lying. It seemed plausible, and yet -

He hadn’t taken the song with that much equanimity when Tav had first learned it, so much so that Tav had taken perverse delight in whistling the melody at odd times and places and waiting until the scowl lowered itself onto his face. Things had come to a head over Tav's extended digression about whether it would be ethical for Rugan to eat mutton stew. They had been very late starting on the road the following morning. 

Unfortunately, Tav’s lapse into fond memories was interrupted. Someone from one of the closer tables had come over, and was looking uncomfortably at her. 

“Excuse me,” said the interlocutor, a young human girl in peacock velvet and a scarlet feather in her cap, “but you might want to be careful where you play that. The Black Network has eyes and blades everywhere.” 

“Do you mean to say there might be Zhentarim here? Listening to me?” Tav asked, all wide-eyed innocence and absolutely not looking anywhere near the man next to her.

“Davil Starsong’s played on that very stage,” said the girl pointing, where the hammered dulcimer was being drowned out by the table of posturing assholes. A pity, because Tav would have liked to hear it. It’s not the sort of instrument she came across often on the road.

“Hmmm,” said Tav, noncommittally, and strummed through the first few bars again.  The girl looked pleadingly at Rugan, being the oldest and presumably the wisest of their little group. 

“Shouldn’t think she’s got much to fear from the Zhents, lass,” he rumbled, and slid a hand onto Tav’s thigh. Tav relented - the girl didn’t know, and the warning was kindly meant.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. “But while you’re here - who are that group over there? With the purple hat and the moustache? The loud ones?”

“Them,” said the girl, screwing up her face with disgust. “That’s Arlon. His aunt’s a guildmaster, and his uncle married up, and they’ve got a lock on half the good parties.” 

Tav nodded. There was good money to be made there, and if they liked you they’d ask for you again. Most of the time the kitchen staff would feed you leftovers, too, and damn if the rich didn’t eat well. If you could get your foot in the door. If.

“He’s not even that good,” continued the girl. “Says he likes Volo, because everyone knows them and it’s easy.”

Tav shot bolt up right anyway, outraged. “Volo’s not even a bard,” she spat, and Rugan chuckled into his beer.

“Exactly!” said the girl. “He’s a -”

“Lying hack of a wizard,” finished Tav, vengefully. She glared at Arlon. “Something should be done.” Rugan’s hand tightened on the inside of her thigh. Careful.

“Er,” the girl said, somewhat doubtfully. Her eyes flicker across to Olly, who grinned back at her. Gods, he’s grown up.

“I’m not going to burn down your local,” Tav said. “Just…dampen the noise. Promise.”

“Really?” The girl’s eyes shone.

“You can’t,” said Tav. “I can, and I’m leaving town tomorrow. Consider it a thank you for the warning.” 

“Oh. All right.”

“You should go sit down. Don’t want to be near me when it happens.” 

Tav tapped a soft rhythm onto the body of her lute, summoning water, and dropped it onto Arlon and his clique. Shrieks of outrage and surprise echoed across the bay, and then most of the bar was laughing, and laughing hard. Water’s heavier than people think, but Tav has judged it nicely; they’re drenched to the skin and will have to sadly squelch all their way home, but no one is physically injured. Gods, they look ridiculous, careful coiffeuses turned to lank rat’s tails on their necks. Even Arlon’s moustache is drooping. They barely manage to flounce as they leave.

“Nice work,” said Rugan, into her ear, in that tone, in that voice. Deliberately, Tav guesses; he knows the effect that has on her. He slid his hand further up her thigh, and Tav shot him a sideways glare. Damn him.  Damn her susceptibility to him.

Emboldened, the hammered dulcimer player launched into a frottole, and began to sing. 

[ask-gale-waterdeep]

Dear Gale,

I was so pleased to receive a response to my letter and to know the mail carrier issue has been resolved. I'll admit, it was rather intriguing to find out your favorite book. I would never have guessed! I'd really like to hear more about your recommendations for reading material; just to help the long nights pass a little quicker.

My interest was particularly piqued by your thoughts on Druidic magic and Necromancy. I never took you as one to "play in the dirt", for lack of a better phrase, though I'm happy to know you're broadening your magical horizons. One should always keep an open mind when it comes to trying new things, don't you agree?

As for Necromancy, I have to say I understand where you're coming from. I, personally, am of the opinion that it's an abhorrent disrespect for the dead, who should lie resting; not ripped from the Fugue Planes to be used as canon fodder. While practical - and admittedly, wildly powerful - I find the act morally reprehensible. Ah, but I shouldn't press the matter any further. I don't want to risk a nasty disagreement.

I also would like to remind you that you needn't feel rushed to answer my letters. I understand you're a busy man (I can't imagine your studies offer much time for chatting with a pen pal) and have no qualms with waiting for your response.

With that, I feel I should end this now. Please give Tara my best and the dried pigeon jerky I've sent alongside this letter, should make for an excellent snack! One more reminder to please take care of yourself, my friend. One cannot be the most powerful Wizard in all the Sword Coast if one is not properly maintained.

With love,

~Arcane

Dear Arcane,

Again, truly a pleasure to hear from you, my good friend. And I can say Tara more than enjoys the jerky sent in your letter…perhaps a little too much, compared to the food I offer her. Besides that, it brings me boundless joy to hear of your request for other options related to literature. Perhaps a time can be set up for us to meet up and speak our thoughts on books we enjoy? It would be quite enticing, I do admit, but only if you’re willing to accept my offer. I assure you, I’m more than happy to talk in a long distance.

As for the situation related to Necromancy, I appreciate the decision to not further delve into it. I’d rather not disturb the fine balance with someone I hold to my heart and cherish deeply…well, aside from my mother and my other companions. However, we can take arguments where it’s due, since both you and I are more than entitled to our opinions in…well, any space. Especially in the corner of magic. But, of course, that’s just due to how I feel about it.

But, yes, I am willing to broaden my horizons for magic. Even if it means I “play in the dirt” with druids and rangers and such. Magic is a wonderful thing, like…a melody, a song. Whether it be a shabby tune from a drunken fool off the street, a flow of notes from an inn like the Yawning Portal, or a harmony from…perhaps, a companion I hold close to. I spoke of her a smidge in our last letter…but truthfully, I never introduced her, did I? Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, so in that case…her name is Bella. She’s…last time I checked, a paladin, oathbroken. But by the gods, could she play a melody that kept me on my heels. Perhaps she was a bard before our first encounter? I’ll have to ask her when I get the chance, but in the mean time, this is all I can explain. Both from my knowledge, and that I wouldn’t think she’d enjoy her business being told to someone that while I write to, she has yet to know about. Knowing you though, I’m certain you’ll be in her good graces. But…be prepared for her…pet? Let’s just say that, for now.

For being busy, I understand that I do not have to rush my letters. Frankly, the only thing I rush is reading due to how much knowledge I wish to take in. But I’m positive I have time for you whenever needed. Whether it simply be these letters, like now, or meeting up with me wherever we may be. I may be a man of a tight schedule, but never too tight for my closest people. And, yes, I swear with all my heart I will take care of myself, as you should do the same. It would be frightening to hear if any bad news regarding your health or safety would be heard of.

Of course, safe travels wherever you go, and, hopefully, I’ll hear of you once more whenever you get the chance. I’m afraid Tara might attempt to scold me for using so much ink for my letters, heh…it’s not like I won’t get more, but it’s cause I use so much in a day that I most likely will have bought out most of it.

Sincerely,

—Gale

(P.S. There’s a couple of quills of mine, good quality at that, that I figured you’d enjoy to use. Unfortunately I can’t send any more of them since…well, most of them are now in your possession. But do, deeply, enjoy them.)