#gale's hand excluded

[rindemption]

oh I'm down bad

Dexon; Dark Urge, Talos War Cleric with a chaotic streak that unfortunately feeds the impulses. Only keeps his party alive because they're more useful breathing. I don't think a romance would be good for anyone

Therius; Vengeance Paladin, blunt and sometimes stern but with a soft spot for the little guys. Not above intimidating people to get the right thing done. Will eventually fall for Astarion once they both open up more

Aava; College of Lore Bard, quick to soothe tempers but slow to trust. She's carrying more blackmail than she'll ever admit, and will use it to keep herself safe and alive. Somehow finds herself already crushing on Karlach despite her own innate paranoia

I do plan on making at least 2 more: a dragonborn Dark Urge who will actually fight to be good, and a gnome for the sake of doing the 12 multi-classes and all the silly/stupid options.

But now back to Elamrael!

[yangcherie]

mating season

𐀔 pairings: astarion x reader. karlach x reader. halsin x reader. background cast (wyll, shadowheart, lae’zel, gale) x reader. background rolan x tav.

𐀔 content warnings: tiefling!tav, LITERALLY PWP, alcoholic consumption, brief sexual memory (halsin), heavy petting, noncon to dubcon (with astarion only), slight slutshaming, oral (f!receiving), mentions of breeding, afab anatomy but g/n pronouns. astarion is very slightly, slighty mean, up to you if he is ascended or not.

𐀔 sypnosis: you, a tiefling, go through your first heat cycle around your companions. some are willing to either indulge you or take advantage of you.

𐀔 author’s note: hoppinh on the bandwagon of tieflings having heat / rut cycles. astarion, briefly halsin, ROLAN and karlach get some action, teehee. and don't worry. everyone is a pervert and thinks about it. everyone will get a chance. someday. merry christmas!!

The first thing everyone wakes up to is heat. Sweltering, palpable heat, pervading the air up to the point it felt like it was trying to smother them, casting annoying, relentless burnishes of perspiration on their skin.

It couldn’t be the sun, no. The warmth felt too close, within of reach – but even then, it was no lively and unextinguished campfire, no engine out of hand nestled within Karlach, Shadowheart concluded.

They’d all been taking turns the entire morning seeking cold relief in the stream. Thankfully, as the day prevailed, the sun was no longer so glaring, the heatwave lessening by a tad bit, the rest of the party excluding a certain Ravenguard had found it now bearable.

It wasn’t until Wyll was fed up with the sweat that would inevitably come no matter how much he wiped at it, marching towards where it felt most blistering, most fervent; the intense source.

It had led him to your tent — and without doubt, the demon believed the source was your tent; your fucking otherworldy furnace of a tent. Even as he stood from outside, the heat was practically choking him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took a look inside and finds out you, little fiend you, stuffed the entire Nine Hells inside. And take a look inside he does, peeling away the entrance, a delirious but polite request to turn down the heat ready on his tongue —

But it isn’t the Nine Hells’ heat and musk that slaps him to his face, to his utter surprise.

It’s you; trembling, flushed raw and in all of your fiendish glory, naked. Tail loud and thumping on the floor as your whimpers permeate through the air, legs spread and — No!

Somewhere in the back of his horned head, he wonders if it’s the heat, the shock, or simply his building arousal that has rendered him stuck to his position. It takes Wyll all his strength he can muster to tear his eyes away; what was he doing? He was intruding on your tent— your privacy! How could he forget basic etiquette, so much for being a noble-!

(Without a doubt, he’s ruined his chance of any traditional courtship.)

“Sorry.” The Blade himself awkwardly coughs before pushing himself out of your tent with an inhuman force, slamming the fabric entrance shut and tripping on his own two feet on the way out. “It’s Tav!” He shouts, sprinting with little idea on where to; the heat is unbearable and by the gods, he isn’t so sure anymore if it was coming from your tent or if it was simply his body. His commotion with Tav gathers the attention and eyes of his fellow companions, and it is both Karlach and Shadowheart that push at him to settle him down.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you!” Karlach, ever the concerned companion with her furrowed brows, assures him like steed. “Tav, you mentioned?” Shadowheart, upon quick confirmation that he was not injured, is quick to coax him for answers of his behavior. He’s a bit mortified as his little flustered fit had everyone around him.

“Tav, they’re– get this–” Wyll swallows, tense with the image of you squirming and dripping still on the front of his mind. “T-they’re hot.”

It’s a dreadful thing, he realizes later a split second more than he’d like, the silence that follows. Through the tadpole, they’ve seen what he’s seen; and judging from the atmosphere, they’re chalking it up to an active imagination. All but loud, with a lone cricket chirping in the distance. He shoots up to in an attempt to explain, but wordlessly splutters instead.

“So you’ve had your first wet dream, I take it?” Astarion scoffs, finding the dirt under his manicured nails more interesting than what the fiend had to say next. “Had an issue with morning wood, perhaps– or should I say, a hardened blade?”

“No!” Wyll refutes, now standing up with the help of Shadowheart. “I-I meant to say they’re hot, literally. They’re drenched with sweat, lookin’ like they’re about to keel over. You saw it, in my head, what they looked like!”

“Ah, yes.” The vampire recalled that vision. Though brief and concerning, yes, it was also undeniably delectable. What he wouldn’t give to have seen you writhing with want up close. But still, he slips his desperation behind a theatric mask. “Like a mutt in heat, how hilarious.”

“In heat.” Karlach had repeated Astarion’s words and bristled, her muscles twitching once but violently enough that it had them staring at her like they had been with Wyll. The look on her face tells everyone she’s had her eureka moment, a light flickering beside her head. “Tav is in heat. Of course they are; it’s breeding season!” She guffaws then, disregarding the disbelief of the party — save for Halsin, who simply nodded.

“So what you’re saying is we have a feral, unspayed animal amongst us for the time being?” Lae’zel grunted, though she certainly did not mind if the blush on her face was anything to go by.

“Mating season is upon most of the forest.” The druid responded, crossing his thick arms, ever the calm elf. “Given the... more animalistic features of some cambions, it is not entirely unreasonable. Given the intensity, it must be their first heat since you’ve all been on this journey.” The party gapes; Karlach nods, and though she does not mention it, she’s mildly disappointed your heat had not aligned with her rut.

“So, what you’re both saying is that they need to breed – or be bred?” Though the vampiric rogue balked, he was unable to deny the inkling of lust that washed through him at the idea. You, and your all proud visage crumbling into one of a desperate, slut of a fiend.

“Well, when you put it in such a frank and vulgar manner...” Gale coughs, flushed, Astarion notices, inwardly grimacing. The wizard’s never been discreet about liking your musk – and today, it is especially honeyed and heavy around the campsite. “Yes.”

And that’s when it hits the rogue, the shared tension and ignited lust in everyone – not just Gale. It’s a slow and heavy shift, like puffs of smoke. The current of lust in the air runs deeper when a small, inviting moan permeates from your tent. The sounds of heavy breaths and trousers shifting from around the party, it all goes unobserved to any eye that doesn’t belong to an experienced rogue.

Still, the rest would’ve been fools to think only one or two of them would be intrigued, he thought. It was with a silent agreement amongst them that by the end of this week, you’d be thoroughly savoured.

The first thing you wake up to is a dull ache across the expanse of your stomach, and a pool of your own arousal drenching the bedroll between your legs. Your bed-kissed face tightens, glaring down at the growing tension in your belly. A groan is torn out of your dehydrated throat – and if the obvious lack of sun on your tent was anything to go by, you’ve slept through nearly the entire day.

Fuck, what was going on? Distoriented, you attempt to sit up only for the dull ache to morph into heated convulsions that immediately spread like wildfire around your weakened body. It was then that you realized that to your utter horror, you were burning hot, to the Nines and beyond — as if you were forcefully thrown into an early heat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. The edges around your vision blackened for a split second before you violently lurched yourself out of your too-warm, too-cramped tent, slamming your palms and knees into the dirt ground and digging your nails in, your mouth open to welcome the hot pants stuck in your dry throat.

You spat out a vicious string of Infernal curses, your focus blurring in and out of itself. You shut your mouth, biting your lip to keep in whimpers, sweat trickling down from your forehead as your mind fought in vain against the primal urges now closing in on it; the feral ache for relief deeming itself more important than reason.

Relief. Fuck, it sounded good right now. You hissed, your mental resolve crumbling, tail furiously lashing against the dirt. Relief. Your eyes darted around the camp anything that could relieve the heat in your loins; Shadowheart and her healing hands or a cool river stream to let the water wash over you, but fuck, you needed real relief. A body you could sink your teeth into and ride until the next morning – preferably Karlach, or Halsin–!

Thick, strong Halsin.

“You feel good, little one.” Halsin quietly groaned up from above you, touching you as if he’s been longing to.

He moves inside you; thick cock bruising your insides. Every open-mouthed gasp and hurt or pleasured cry was eagerly welcomed into his own mouth with wet kisses. He was unrelenting, but kind. Full of sinew your hands could run across or scratch in slight distaste if the fat tip of his length pressed a sensitive spot deeper than you’d have liked. And without fail, he had laughed everytime, gentle and light, even if his deep thrusts into your spent hole were anything but.

He must have been trying to burrow in you with how deep he was inside, letting you raggedly cry into the slope of his neck meeting the thickness of his shoulder. Halsin set out to plant an apologetic kiss into the crook of yours, fucking you deep until you fluttered around him, dragging him to his peak alongside you.

No, you winced, tearing your eyes open and your mind out of its lust-ridden gutter, the burn inside you relentless. No Halsin nor Karlach, not a single soul that could provide you relief to be found around camp — and damn them all, you were in no state to be crawling around searching for even the slightest whiff of their scent in gods know where.

Relief.

Yet another infuriating wave of heat rolled through you, forcing you to clench your hands and drive dirt beneath your nails. What remained of your rationality sought out to the crevices of your memories, ones that weren’t flooded of nightly trysts with the druid elf or — Rolan.

Relief – Rolan. A drop of your drool hitting the ground; Rolan with his horns you could grip and sharp teeth that could sink into your shoulder. No doubt warmly cooped up in Ramazith’s Tower, signing trades or shoving his nose in dusty books. He’d do, for tonight – he’d understand, indulge you and lift you from the unbearable heat clouding your head. He wouldn’t mind, you know it, because you’d be a blind fool to not see the way his eyes would fondly trail over your face, or the dips in your body.

He wants you, and for tonight, you will do him a favor and want him back.

You urge your trembling body to stand up and begin the treacherous trek from camp to the Gate’s city.

It was only the next night, moon high, that you sauntered into camp instead of out your tent, sporting a relieved glow, a fresh set of bites around your throat, a heavy limp, and of course, the hands of a flushed Rolan around your waist.

Your ragtag party watched from their campfire logs, a petty and envious air about them whilst the winsome smile on your face turned into an airy laugh as Rolan tenderly cupped your jaw with his hands, whispering something that had you curling your tails together. You shook your head and sweetly pecked his cheek as he nodded and bumped your horns together like lovers as a bid goodbye before stepping back to part ways.

“Well?” Karlach greeted with an amiable smile as you joined the group’s circle, having been worriedly sniffing around and asking for you the entirety of the morning; your scent lingering faintly around the air but with no continued path as to exactly where you were. She knew firsthand the extent of pain and delirium heats could bring, and god forbid you had fallen in the wrong hands.

(And thankfully, you hadn’t. She was simply glad you found someone trustworthy to mingle with instead of being alone.)

You scooched near her with a charmingly teasing grin, matching her liveliness, turning a blind eye to the tension in the air. “Well, what?” And before the red-skin tiefling could play banter with you, a certain rogue had pettily overtook the conversation.

“Well, did you enjoy your little fling?” Astarion dryly teased, a goblet of wine in his spindly hands and a sardonic smile on his face. He let the wine swivel for a moment. “Enjoyed playing charity, whoring yourself out?”

Karlach quietly called out his name in a disappointed manner, either to scold or deter him from what next he could say.

“What can I say?” You entertain his snark, peeking around the campfire logs for a bottle of blingdenstone blush wine; grabbing ahold of ot and pouring yourself a goblet. Taking a gracious swig, you allow the fruity taste to melt on your tongue. “My company is sought after.”

“Sought after? You amuse me,” The pale elf laughs, dry in a manner that has you eyeing him, his hand tightening around the rusted goblet whilst you set down yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, glaring. “I’d say it’s desperation, on your side of the coin – you’d spread your legs to anyone asking politely, darling.”

You scrunch your nose at that, the warmth and flavor of the wine turning cold and bitter in your throat.

The silence is almost hostile around the campfire – the crackling of it serving to make it less awkward. “Take that damn wine out his hands,” you hear Wyll whisper to a reading Gale and a Lae’zel sharpening her dagger – but both the wizard and githyanki don faces that tell you they aren’t approving of your escapade either. You allow your eyes a brief roam around all their faces; finding it tightened in displeasure.

You don’t feel so well, all of a sudden. Some part inside you chalks it up to the wine.

Save for Karlach who was nudging you with her tail, pleading you from the corner of her eye; asking you to back down from Astarion. Considering it was an option until he opened his mouth once again, his breath smelling of merlot wine. “You’re missing out, you know.” He hisses when you raise him a brow.

“These flings you have,” he eyes around the party, making sure to pointedly look at Halsin for a second longer. You’re half-sure he’d vex Rolan if he was here. Slurring, he pauses again to savor another sip from his wine. “They can’t give you something real.” Your eyes meet his, hesitant, reading the unsaid but he can in them.

“You...” You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the light, the fire shedding a hopeful glint in his eyes for a split second at your tender tone of voice, face softening at the way you curl in yourself. “You’re drinking too much.” And just as quickly as it came, it left.

Something heavy twists in your gut; and you can’t quite decide if it’s from the wine, the second wave of your heat, or distress. Silently pushing yourself off the log, you might as well to take that soak in the river that you’d been dying for.

(You’re not very surprised to feel the many eyes piercing through you.)

Shortly after you left the circle, Karlach had followed you, indiscreet. It’s a game of chase, really – and she’s hot on your tail but you just keep evading her when she thinks she’s got you, a hairsbreadth away from her hands. The way your shoulders tremble with little laughs from your lips are not missed by her, and if she were any closer she’d chase it with her own.

(She smiles, not seen through the dark mouth of the night. Was it her presence or the alcohol that has made you soft?)

It’s not a long trek to the lake by any means, the path obscured by dense foliage she’d occasionally lose you in. Within moments, she’s at the edge of the water with the gravel crushing beneath her boots, overtaking the slow stream of water you’re delicately undressing by. Her longing gaze lingers on the slope of your jaw, the fullness of your lips and the fresh, deep indents of teeth along your shoulder. She’s unsure of whether it’s from Astarion’s feeding or Rolan.

It’s only when you’re fully bare that you turn to face her, that same plush smile that’s melted the hearts of hundreds.

“Are you joining me?” The sweet lilt of your voice makes the gears stop turning in Karlach’s nodding head, her body moving before her mind to start peeling away at her own clothes at the appealing invitation; wading into the water with you as soon as she’s done. A snort is pulled from her when you playfully splash at her with your tail when you hear her behind you.

“Don’t play a game you can’t win, you little...” Karlach jovially returns the splash, inwardly rejoicing at your giggle; this little, shared intimacy is nothing new, but it makes her heart lurch all the same. What she wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

By the gods, she could never get enough of that you and your joy. Some selfish, unbidden part of her hopes you’ll take her up on Wyll’s offer on the path to Avernus, for the sole reason to see it just a little longer.

She shifts around for a topic to hear your voice a little more, “How is your heat coming along?” The smile on your face falters slightly at her choice of inquiry – but you relax instantly. She’s one of your dearest friends, concern is her second nature.

“When is it never dreadful?” You shrug, casual though your words ring true. An unmated tiefling’s pain during a rut or heat was nothing short of agonizing. She watches the nervous swallow bob in your throat. “But I had a little bit of help- from Rolan.”

“Ah, the new master of the tower, was it?” You nod at her, and it comes to you once again that Karlach was no jealous woman. She was glad you had your fill of enjoyment. “He looks smitten with you; are you courting him?”

“Huh?” Your tail whacks against the relaxed surface of water in disbelief, a flush festering on your disgruntled face. “It’s more like the other way around, he bumped his horns to mine earlier.”

Karlach guffaws at your distress, tearing up with her joy until her breath catches on a sweet aroma. She squints, cautiously sniffing the air, once, twice – and she looks to you, pursing her lips when she realizes it isn’t the fragrances you’re washing over yourself; it’s just you, or rather, the second wave to your heat. She hopes the hunger welling in her isn’t clear in her eyes.

You smell really good, she thinks as she chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the dip of your back as your turn around. And you’re a really good friend, too good, maybe. She feels what she’s about to do isn’t very good.

Karlach doesn’t know what compels her to do what she does but she follows like it’s law; catching your wrist in her hand, capturing your jaw in her other and kissing you tender, swallowing the gasp that comes out.

It’s only when the air starts to feel thick with your heat and her lust that she pulls away, a string of spit following you both – and she’s already pulling away, horror welling up in her eyes but before she can grovel with apologies, you’re reeling her right back to your spit-slick lips with a moan so utterly full of want it has her pulling you closer.

“I can help you,” she murmurs against your taste before pulling away, your want reassuring her she’s got nothing to be sorry for. Your heaving breasts press against her face when she dips half of herself in the water to wrap her arms around your legs. She pleads. “Let me help you. Please.”

Karlach carries you with her muscled arms and settles you on the edge of a rock, softly parting your legs for you and making herself a warm home between them. The way she looks up at you gives you a bashful knot in your stomach.

“Do you want this?” She swallows thick, as if to wash away the heavy weight of her need, eyes situating her hands on your hips with a trembling but still dominant grip. “Use your words.”

You nod, frantic. Breathy pants now visible in the hot air. “I do,” your tongue feels weak when you speak, looking at her with dazed eyes. “P-please, I- I want it, Kar.”

It’s all the push she needs to lick a stripe up your slit, rendering you still when she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. It drags a heavy moan out of you and it’s nothing but music to her ears. She hopes it’s the sound that greets her in the afterlife instead of angels with their harps or trumpets.

“Ahah,” Karlach pants, hot against your clit, and you look down to see your slick running down her chin, her tail pulling you closer by your calf while yours whips around. “You taste so fucking good.” She murmurs against you, sending an arrow of pleasure straight through your trembling spine that makes her dive right back in, tracing your fluttering hole.

She tongues inside your hole, moaning when it tightens around her, fucking and writhing it around in response.

If the heat wasn’t so heavy, you’d think she was tracing her name on your cunt. You huff, rocking your hips into her face as much as you can with her hands firmly clasped around your hips. Your hands find themselves around her horns and they gently pull her head closer to you, riding her face as if to help brace you for the knot snapping in your stomach.

Karlach takes a moment to pause, smiling with your heady flavor on her lips, chuckling against your core. “So needy.”

You don’t last long, not with her smile and teeth and tongue around your folds, no, and it’s a blind rush of time and hot white when your thighs tremble around her head, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

“Karlach...!” You cry her name, cumming and convulsing around her tongue with open-mouthed moans. Her grip on you tightens, an Infernal curse leaving her as your slick taste floods her mouth. Her hands run over you, the small of your back, your hips and then to your ass, gripping the fat of it to keep you still while she laps at what little you have left to give; only giving in when you whimper and try to kick her away.

(In the rational crevices of your head, you’d hate to prove Astarion right about being a whore but fuck, does she make you feel good.)

It’s soft silence that fills the air, after you both cease your panting. You stare at the stars, head foggy with the orgasm that racked your body, humming when Karlach gently sets you in her arms again to wash your arousal away in the water while your head contentedly lies against her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to your bed, hm?” She coos, bumping her horns against yours – only letting you go to stand up again when she finishes washing and drying you, allowing you to clothe yourself. Time is a blur then, as you spend it aided to walk by her warm arms, staring at the intricate maze of foliage you’re surrounded about.

You’re snapped out your limping daze when you look around to see the foliage isn’t dark anymore, lit around by hues of oranges from a familiar campfire. Karlach grins, closed-eye as she squeezes you and kisses you warmly before nudging you towards the direction of your tent, quaintly lit up by a candlelight lamp you set inside earlier.

“Go inside,” she coaxes you, all-kind. It’s a certain emptiness you feel when you peel yourself away from her warmth with a whine that has her chuckling and pressing her lips against yours again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You do as she says, stumbling inside your tent and falling with a thud to your soft bed – but not without curling your lips into a loving smile, savoring the memory of her. It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to the hands of rest.

Fuck.

It’s the middle of the night when you’re next startled awake.

And it’s no surprise when you wake up to yet another surge of dull aching and your own arousal just starting to drip out of you. You waste little time; stumbling like a fawn out your tent, movements laden with the remnants of sleep –

You’re halfway out when your face slams against a body; lithe and cold, and in your sleep-ridden state, you could be convinced you just bumped into a slab of ice draped in flesh. But you urge your heavy lids to open up, to see the man, well, vampire you’d bickered with earlier, staring down at you from the very opening.

“Astarion,” you state, bleary-eyed and fisting your nightshirt closer; the fleece of it grounding you under his piercing gaze. Your heart is beating quick; a brief thought hopes it stays beating, and you will it away. You have half the mind to ask what he’s doing in front of your tent, but you have no time. The air is thick. The heat inside you is boiling. You need relief – Rolan.

“I...” Your words crawl in your throat, the line of your brows furrowing when you feel the familiar pinpricks of your heat pressing into you. “Please, move. I have somewhere to be.”

You almost feel small under the depth of his gaze; everything about him reeks of fury mingling with need.

“Off to find another bed to warm, I assume?” Astarion hisses with the slightest slur, the breath which he speaks out carrying the scent of fine wine – the air around him dangerous. Starving. He moves closer, and you, in all your confusion, slowly crawl back into your tent, unsure on what to fight first; the heat that consumes you or the danger you feel is about to overtake you.

“Astarion,” you mumble, this time with a bleat to your voice and your eyes wide like the lamb to be drained and slaughtered you feel you are. The air is heady; laden with fear and need thick like honey. Everything around you is too much. Where is Rolan? Karlach?

A hand tightens around your ankle, refusing to let go even as you yelp and watch Astarion force his way inside your cramped tent and crawls himself between your legs to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“No, no,” You whisper to him, shifting under him in a panic when you feel his familiar lips on your neck. “I’m sorry but you cannot feed from me tonight, Astarion. I need to leave, now.”

“I’m not here to drain you dry, silly.” Astarion’s voice is husky, breathy. It has you clenching your thighs around his hips; his hands clasp around yours in return. “Though, I am starving, I have something else in store for little you.” You grit in discomfort, the unease and desire a blend that you feel entirely drunk on.

(He would never admit it but that tender pit of terror in you has him salivating.)

“Leave...!” You hiss. He chuckles at that; the sound velvet-rich and grating, and does exactly the contrary – pushing himself closer to you until you’re chest-to-chest. You hate that you cannot see him tucked away to your neck. It does not help he is close to your raw, still-sensitive core; you have nothing on save for a long, flowy poet’s shirt thanks to a certain crimson tiefling.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can’t have you running off to somebody else.”

It’s then that you feel it; the press of a cruel, toothy smile against your throat and something of leather, something of warmth digging into the meat of your thigh. He is not here to drain you out of his anger, rather, he’s here to devour you, prey on you. You fear you’ve catched on belatedly.

“Mfh. I don’t want–” Your late, futile resistance is met with a finger to your lips, flushed thighs being pushed further apart as his hips slot between yours. Somewhere in the back of your muddled mind, you hear yourself keen with delight at the friction before he hushes you.

“You’re right, you don’t want it.” Astarion croons, watching as you writhe your hips against his for friction, as your bare cunt instictively grinds against the hot imprint of his still-clothed cock even as your head grasps for even a thread of coherence. “You need it, need this - need me.”

Your body does not deny his claim, arching your hips to meet his grinding, swollen folds clinging to his leather trousers – the pit in your stomach and the crawl up your spine indistinguishable between dread and ecstasy. The line of reason and morals are once again blurred in your head.

You curse yourself for having indulged in the alcoholic delicacy earlier. He’s emboldened by the wine; you’re weakened by it. The finger on your lips slip inside your mouth, firm on your tongue. You gag on it when his other hand clasped on your hip reaches down in between your legs and feels around for your, unsurprisingly, dripping vulva, the both of you gasping in delight.

“You’re soaked. What a fine surprise!” He chuckles, continuing to buck his clothed erection into your heat, petting your hair when you moan around his fingers. “I hope it’s because of me and not just your little heat.”

Your body is transparent, visceral with him, loyal to the promise of pleasure he can give you – even if your mind, what is left of your rationality indignantly fights tooth and nail to convince your body to stop giving in to animalistic pleasure.

It’s not long then, until Astarion becomes impatient, always having been; unlacing the ties on his trousers with one skilled hand and leaning over you to toss it off – it’s all too quick for your swarmed mind to catch up to, and the next thing you see and know is that you’re hissing through your teeth and thrashing while he pushes the burning head of his cock into you, hushing you as if you were a distressed animal. Your muscles tense, jerking away, a feeble little no on your lips—

But it’s an easy intrusion, a quick thrust into you is all it takes to bury himself deep with the help of your slick and his pre. He groans as, eyes rolling back as yours start to prick with tears, hold tightening on you as you whimper and turn limp like a ragdoll to his experimental thrusting. Some part of you wants to preen at the pleasure; the honeyed heat inside you pleased.

“Good- fuck, good pet.” He breathily murmurs, clasping a hand around your hip again; alternating between sensual grinding and abruptly slamming into you. All while he laughs and watches with a vicious smile as you’re torn between pathetically moaning and crying, the fingers in your mouth helping to muffle the sounds.

“See? Not so bad if you just close your eyes and give in.” He presses down particularly hard on your tongue when you wail at a sharp, unexpected thrust. He couldn’t have someone from the party playing hero. “I’m trying to help you.”

Tears sting at the corner of your eye, and you have no doubt you look pitiful right now - but fuck, he feels good. You don’t want to admit it, but you won’t deny it either; you needed this. And though you would have preferred to have it be Rolan, all gentle, rutting into you with sweet whispers and even sweeter promises, the heat in your body cannot be satiated with the tenderness he can give you. But you would rather stake him first than admit he’s helping you fill that gaping need in you.

“Astarion...” You furrow your brows and swallow around his fingers, your own life clinging to the back of your throat. It’s with a certain horror and desperation that you realize you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d like – and you know he knows, because he pulls his fingers out your mouth and presses a warm, spit-slick thumb to your aching clit. Your hole flutters around him, and you writhe around, the tightening burn of your incoming orgasm too much to handle. Pleasured, honeyed mewls are wrenched from you as his hips snap, driving his cock deep.

Astarion purrs – a hand on your thigh to help him slam into you, gripping hard enough to form bruises whilst the other was relentless at your clit. It’s with a shriek that you fall apart, seizing on his thrusts that only seem to quicken, the wet sound of skin on skin and your crying permeating through the entire camp, no doubt. He coos when a whine slips out of you, a tear gliding from your eye.

You’re seeing fucking white, blots of black dotted along your vision by the time he greedily slams inside you a final time with a low groan – something pleasingly warm filling you up, satiating you. Astarion holds your face and tugs it meet his for a breathy, passionate kiss whilst he twitches seed inside you - smiling in delight against your lips when you melt.

Relief is found; a warm glow settling on you despite your lids fighting their damndest to stay up. You’re a soft, slow little thing now, all but warm and ready to be taken by approaching slumber. Astarion gladly takes the chance to lie on his side and gather you in his arms, lips curving sweet yet again, but with less threat, as he watches you contentedly curl yourself up against his side. He sighs at the warmth that washes over him, thankful that fatigue has tamed you and fanned out that little spark and scratch you had earlier.

“Happy?” The smitten vampire asks, cheeky, smug as he pulls you closer into him, massaging your sore hips. “No need for you to go looking around for victims when you have me at your disposal, darling. I’d hate for you to lose sight on what really matters.”

You hum as if far away, you’d slap him in the morning that comes, but for now you’d let yourself be lulled into a soft, gentle slumber. A kiss on your head is the last thing you feel, a feeble little goodnight whispered.

[mrs-kmikaelson]

Our Song and Dance⁶

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader, Katniss Everdeen x platonic!reader Summary: You'd grown used to dancing the same dance over and over again, the victor's dance, but then you start dancing with Finnick Odair and you feel things you never thought you'd feel. So you let yourself enjoy the dance, even though you knew that every song inevitably came to an end. Warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of forced prostitution, exploitation of minors, suicidal thoughts, war, violence, murder, mind games, religious references, very complicated relationships, complex mental health issues, death, and grief Words: 12.8K

Masterlist | Series Soundtrack

a/n: ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for! (greatest showman reference, not excluding my enbys y'all). here it is! this is the end! just for clarity, anything in present tense means r is thinking (as always), and there's an additional a/n at the bottom. love u guys!!

When you were younger, you dreamed of being a storyteller. This wasn't your first time dwelling on that fact, but now you wondered if it'd be the last.

There was a saying your mother used to say, before your father died and she went mad. You reap what you sow. It was ironic how backwards it was in your life. First you were reaped, which then subsequently sowed the domino pieces to your fake life, all falling down to lead up to this moment.

Yes, backwards it was.

You'd barely gotten a wink of sleep before faraway booms were waking you up. You didn't flinch this time; you could tell they weren't close, but Finnick's hand on your shoulder still tightened, like he was reminding you that he was there if you so needed it.

"Mortal shells," Gale informed you, looking up at the basement's ceiling. "It's not ours. Peacekeepers must be shellin' the rebels outside of the city."

It surely didn't sound like it. Cressida must've came to the same conclusion because she soon piped up, "That's not outside the city."

Inside, then. They were inside the city. 

That meant it was show time.

You separated yourself from Finnick without a word, going to prepare. In his mind, you must've just been so focused that you couldn't speak to him. In yours, it was that you were so unfocused that you wouldn't.

For the last eight years of your life, you'd been spinning stories with Finnick like there'd be no tomorrow, and now that was about to become a reality. That's why you couldn't speak to him. This was the last chapter, the last dance before the song came to a stop.

So you got ready, screwing arrowheads onto their shafts and strapping yourself with guns, moving slowly as if you were frozen in time with knowledge no one else had. 

This was the end of your story.

This was the end of the song.

Music beat loudly in your ears, but it was quieted by the sound of beeping. Your eyes were drawn to a black box on the table in the corner, similar to the one you once watched Finnick from, now projecting a mandatory viewing. There was no fanfare this time, as if Snow was now realizing that there was no need to sugarcoat what was happening.

The rebels had already invaded the Capitol. If its citizen's didn't know the severity of the situation before, they sure did now.

Finnick lightly snorted behind you as Snow's face came onscreen, making you resist the urge to swat him and laugh. You wouldn't have been laughing at Snow, though—you were much too angry for that—just at the boy who still found the courage to laugh in such terrible times.

You'd miss that.

Snow began speaking right away. "To all Capitol citizens more than a half mile outside the city circle, I am announcing a mandatory evacuation." Your brows knitted together. What? A quick glance at Katniss told you that she was just as confused. "Come to my home," he beckoned. "I am promising you shelter and sanctuary. All refugees... come to my home. There, you will be provided with food, medicine, safety for your children... and you will have my solemn oath to protect you until my dying breath."

Cressida made a sarcastic quip that you didn't hear, like your head was underwater.

This doesn't feel right.

"Our enemy is not like us," he continued. "They do not share our values. They have never known our comfort and our sophistication."

Somewhere in all the muffledness you heard Finnick mutter, "No shit," but it barely registered. Your eyes were trained on the image as if it'd unravel and reveal something to you. You didn't know what there even was to reveal—everything was laid out in the open now.

So then why do I feel like something's hiding in plain sight?

"And they despise us for it. Make no mistake." Snow's voice was filled with certainty and a spite so sharp it could cut through flesh.  "They are not coming to liberate us. They are coming to destroy our way of life. They are coming... to bury us." He put emphasis on his last words before the stream ended, his image cutting out with a flash.

What an interesting choice of words he used. Bury them. The people in 4 had been buried underneath rubble, so much so that you couldn't bury your own mother.

Katniss cut off your thoughts. "Is he still in the mansion?" You turned toward her, seeing her eyes already on you. 

You had to clear your throat before you replied, "Yeah." You'd been in that God-awful room enough times to recognize it, even in your dreams.

She nodded absentmindedly. "Okay, where's that?"

Pointing to a map she pulled out, Cressida answered, "About five blocks away. We're right here, off the avenues." She pointed to another far-off spot. "Mansion's here."

You crossed your arms. That was a long distance. "What about the pods?" you questioned.

Cressida motioned to another part of the map. "Well, they'll probably deactivate the pods around here for the residents' safety." 

"That could work." Katniss looked up at you, that same fire shining in her eyes that reminded you of her nickname. "We could get close enough."

That was the problem. You could get close enough—you could really do it.

But that felt too easy.

You didn't voice your doubts; Gale did. "Every Peacekeeper's gonna be waiting."

"Next to our faces on every billboard," Cressida cut in.

You shrugged. "Well, Snow's offering shelter to all the refugees." You could feel everyone's eyes dart to you, but you kept yours on Katniss. She understood your message right away. This was your shot. 

You had to take it.

The two of you were in agreement and that's all that mattered. Nobody was going to stop you.

Katniss got up, and then after grabbing the last of your weapons, you were heading upstairs.

One shot. You had one shot.

The extravagancy of Tigris' shop was lost upon you as you threw on a large coat, listening to Cressida's directions. There would be thousands of refugees; all you had to do was join them and keep your head low.

She wished you good luck, and then you found yourself hugging this girl you'd barely known for more than a few days. But she gave you trust when you needed it, and you wouldn't ever forget it.

You knew you weren't gonna see any of these people ever again, so you might as well say goodbye.

You were halfway through thanking Tigris when Peeta's voice suddenly sounded. "Katniss, let me come with you, okay?" You saw her face fall out of the corner of your eye.

He wasn't asking; he was begging.

"I can be a good distraction. They- they know my face—"

She firmly cut him off. "No, I'm not losing you again."

"What if Peacekeepers are searching the houses?" Gale spoke up. Whether it was out of spite or concern, you couldn't tell. "And if he's captured—"

He barely got to finish his sentence before Peeta was hurriedly interrupting him. "Then give me a nightlock pill, okay? I'm not going back."

You inhaled a sharp breath. Unconsciously, your hand went to the side pocket you'd tucked your pill in. Peeta's words had reignited a fear in you that you thought you'd expelled, bringing back memories you didn't want to have at that specific moment.

Please- please, I don't want to play anymore.

You didn't know you had closed your eyes until you reopened them to Gale handing Peeta his nightlock pill. Katniss went to unlock his cuffs, and that's when you looked away, getting the feeling you were intruding on something private.

Instead your eyes went to the very person you were avoiding. You met Finnick's blue eyes easily. Pretty blue eyes the colour of the ocean, your favourite colour.

Your favourite person.

A smile crept onto your face without your knowing. This was exactly why you were supposed to be avoiding him, but as you watched your best friend with the boy she loved, disregarding everything just to say goodbye, you couldn't help but want to do the same. You knew you already said goodbye to him, but you were already running out of time; why waste what little of it you had left?

One last time, you told yourself, just one last time to drown in his ocean.

You made your way over to him across the room, and before you could even get a word out, he said, "I want to come with you, too." You opened your mouth to protest— "But I'm not gonna ask you to."

You furrowed your brows. "Wha—"

Finnick lazily draped an arm over your shoulder, yet at the same time there was nothing lazy about the action at all. That, coupled with him brushing strands of hair out of your face, made you go silent. He was quiet, too, just staring at you.

The way he was looking at you reminded you of the way he examined his surroundings in the Quell, trying to remember where everything was.

It was like he was trying to commit your face to memory.

After a moment, he explained, "I know you won't let me." Of course, you wouldn't.

You weren't gonna let him watch you die.

You sighed, "I'm sorry—" 

With his voice as soft as silk, he chided, "Don't be sorry." His lips quirked upward while he caressed your hair. "Just come back to me in one piece so we can have that talk?"

You tried your best to reciprocate his smile. "I will." Liar.

Terrified that he'd see through your façade, you pulled him in, wounding your arms around him tightly. He held you just as tight. Only when your face was no longer in his view did you screw your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

You'd stay like this forever if you could.

But you couldn't.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat, which meant your time was up. You had to go now.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from Finnick's body, wanting to hold onto him for as long you could. By the time you fully let go, you felt like something was missing. And there was.

Finnick Odair would always hold your heart in his hands.

You flashed him one last smile before you turned around. You wouldn't say you loved him before you left, and perhaps you'd regret that, but if you heard him say it back, you didn't know if you'd have the willpower to leave.

Déjà vu crashed into you like a tidal wave. You lived this moment before, saying goodbye then turning your back and walking away.

I'll see you at midnight?

Yeah, I'll see you at midnight.

You didn't see him at midnight. But you came back. It wasn't the same you that came back, but you did, eventually.

You came back before.

This time, you wouldn't.

You and Katniss set off, finding the crowd immediately. It was a sea of people, impossible to miss. You joined them easily; if you were tentative, you'd get caught, so you had to march with them like you belonged.

There were dozens of Peacekeepers lining the sides of the path. When you glanced up, you found even more on the balconies of buildings, which quickly made you duck your head back down.

If you so much as removed your hood, they could identify you. And you refused to die before Snow did first.

The two of you were silent as you moved forward. There was that feeling in your chest again, the feeling that you were supposed to be saying something, but if anybody recognized your voice, you'd both be as good as dead. Katniss must've felt that pressure, too, but she didn't speak up about it, either.

On a whim, you glanced up ahead of you. You immediately regretted it when a child's eyes locked on yours.

Shit.

She was clutching onto a woman's shoulder—her mother's, you assumed. You prayed that she was too young to recognize you or too tired to make the connection, but then her head lifted up and you knew it didn't matter. 

She recognized you.

You glanced away from the kid before looking back. Her gaze didn't move but neither did her mouth.

She recognized you, but she wasn't going to say anything.

You were about to breathe a sigh of relief before Katniss tapped your arm, motioning ahead. Your eyes travelled to where she was gesturing, and you could've sworn your heart stopped.

Peacekeepers. 

They were checking people. You wouldn't get past them and you both knew it, so you swiftly turned around without another word. Except they were behind you, too, sweeping through the crowd.

Fuck.

You turned forward again, your heart and your mind racing in tandem to find a way out of this. You don't know what you could've possibly come up with.

You don't even think you were breathing.

Your fingers were inching their way to the gun on your hip just as a hand went to your shoulder. But before either of you could do anything, a loud boom sounded, sending you to the ground.

People were shouting everywhere all at once, mixing in with the music so you couldn't hear a thing. Your ears rang but you could still hear someone bellow, "It's the rebels!"

You glanced backward, and their yell was proven correct. A mob of rebels marched forward in a line, shooting at every guard in white they saw.

Another explosion reverberated through the battlefield, making you cup your ears. You couldn't hold back the pained cry that left you.

You looked forward, your eyes finding the same little girl from earlier, her yellow coat now tainted with dirt. She was kneeling above her mother's body, screaming. Tears sparked in your eyes.

That girl's mother was dead.

But you couldn't end up like her.

Quickly, you gathered your bearing, ushering Katniss up. "Come on!" She was stagnant, but as soon as you pulled her up, she was back from wherever she'd gone to. And then the two of you were running.

You jumped behind a barricade, only stopping momentarily. There was a Peacekeeper lying on the ground in front of you. Good, you thought. You could use his gun.

You untangled the rifle from his hands, kicking him down when he started moving. Then you were running forward again.

You ran like never before, stopping only to check that Katniss was still with you. Explosions went off on your way, shaking the ground. Some were too close, but you kept running.

Whether it was your sheer will or the adrenaline pumping through your body, you couldn't stop, not when you were so close. The gate was in your view now. You pushed through the crowd, not caring if your hood fell off in the process. There was too much chaos for anyone to notice.

The people were restless, a robotic voice trying and failing to pacify them. You were so busy climbing up a tank, trying to get a better a look at the palace, that you barely caught it. The gates will open momentarily, it was saying. The children will be received first. Stay calm. Bring your children forward.

That... that didn't sound right.

No, it did. It did sound right. It was right to bring the children forward first.

And that's exactly why it sounded wrong.

President Snow had never cared about children—why would he start now? It was puzzling; it didn't make any sense. But you couldn't make sense of it. You're forgetting why you're here, Y/N.

You shook your head, trying to bring yourself back to your objectives and not watch as the Peacekeepers lifted children from their parents' arms, but then something else caught your attention.

Whirring.

Your eyes shot to the sky where there was a lone hovercraft flying, Panem's emblem painted onto the wings. Not one of yours.

The hovercraft flew by. You don't know what you could've possibly expected, but you certainly didn't expect for it to drop parachutes in its wake.

"Gifts from the Capitol!" someone cheered.

The pit in your stomach returned, no matter how hard you'd just tried to get rid of it. The parachutes fell like they were in slow motion. You couldn't tell if they were truly moving so slowly or if was just you.

The world seemed to stop. The dance seemed to stop. And then everything clicked.

But you were too late.

Your eyes widened. "No—"

BOOM.

You were thrown through the air, landing somewhere hard. The wind was knocked out of you. At first, you were choking on nothing until you finally gained the ability to wheeze. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

This time, you couldn't hear anything. No screams, no more shooting. No more music at all.

The music came to a screeching halt. The record didn't skip. It just stopped.

It occurred to you then that the fucking needle must've just scratched the vinyl, because the music restarted. But it wasn't the same.

You shot upward, coughing your lungs away and waving dust out of your face. You stumbled as you got up—that was a misstep. 

Dancing, dancing, dancing, dancing— 

Katniss. 

Where's Katniss?

Frantically, your eyes darted everywhere. She wasn't beside you. She wasn't in front of you. You spun around, dancing, and she wasn't behind you either.

You wanted to scream her name, but you didn't. She's fine, you reassured yourself. She had to be fine—she was right next to you when the bombs went off. You just had to find her.

Your eyes scanned the scene in front of you, just now really looking at it. Bodies littered the ground, medics and Peacekeepers alike rushing to the wounded. So many wounded. You'd never seen so many bodies in one place.

You looked for a woman in a blue cloak among them. You didn't find her. But you did find someone else that was oddly familiar.

A blonde. A young blonde in a medic's uniform.

You know, I used to be jealous of you.

Jealous of me?

No, that couldn't be—

You have a family that really loves you, that beautiful sister of yours.

You blinked as if it'd make her disappear, but when you opened your eyes, she was still there, not a figment of your imagination at all. She was there.

And then she wasn't.

You had just opened your mouth, but the words died in your throat. "Prim—"

It all happened faster than you could register it.

You saw the flames first. Light travelled faster than sound. Then you heard it—the explosion. And then you felt it. You felt it more forcefully than any of the other ones, shockwaves rippling through your body.

And then you felt nothing.

The last time you awoke in the Capitol, you could feel that something bad was about to happen to you. Dread flowed through your veins like it was blood, infecting every part of you. It was as if a dark cloud hung over your head, a voice in your ear telling you to keep your eyes closed for as long as you could, to enjoy the rest while you still had it.

This time, your eyes fluttered open on their own accord. Your eyelids weren't as heavy. Your body wasn't as sore. But there was a still a weight on your chest.

The dread was still there.

Then the memories flooded back to you.

Bombs. And Primrose Everdeen.

No. You had to have been hallucinating.

With that thought, you blinked, suddenly becoming aware of your surroundings. The lights were fluorescent, but they weren't blinding like typical hospital lights—and there was an incessant beeping noise, but it wasn't very loud. You gathered that this wasn't a hospital room; it was more like a triage centre.

There was a shuffling to your right that you directed your attention to. It was a blonde woman tending to a sleeping brunette's wounds. You blinked again, and then you realized that brunette was Katniss. 

You let out a sigh of relief. She was okay.

Your eyes then immediately flickered to the other presence in the room. Haymitch stood between yours and Katniss' beds. He was already looking at you.

You didn't greet him; the two of you were past that. "Is it—"

"Yes." He seemed to understand without any explanation. Your eyes fell shut for a moment then, taking it in, and he let you.

The war was over.

You won.

But this didn't feel like winning.

When you opened your eyes, Haymitch seemed to already know what you were thinking. That's what you liked about him: no nonsense, no bullshit, no trying to sugarcoat something that was so clearly sour. Just straight to the point.

"It was over after the Capitol dropped those bombs to defend the Palace. Rebels took it right after." He paused, eyes glossing over with a look you knew all too well. "Everybody felt it—Peacekeepers, Palace guards... kids. It was, uh... it was over after that."

You could remember that. The children reaching up in the air, trying to grab what they thought were gifts from their beloved Capitol. Bombs exploded in their faces. You wondered if they were strong enough to kill on impact.

You hoped they were.

Children crying for their parents. Parents crying for their children. All of the sounds melded together eventually.

But you won. You won, didn't you?

Didn't you?

He changed topics. You think it was too hard for him to talk about, too, and that was almost absurd. You never thought you'd see the day that Haymitch Abernathy shied away from anything, yet here you were.

"Your injuries are minor," he told you. "Damage is superficial. You got off unscathed." Did you? "They wanted to take you right to the Palace, but I figured you'd want to change your own clothes." 

He said it casually, but the implication was there. That made you crack a smile, or at least the best smile you could give. "Thanks, H."

He nodded in acknowledgement but otherwise didn't mention it. The victors didn't talk about those sorts of things, not up until recently. You knew what happened to him, to his family, his girlfriend. And he always knew what was happening to you, but it was never spoken out loud. The things that happened in the dark were never meant to be brought under the spotlight.

So Finnick brought out the sun. And now, every secret, every body, and every monster under the bed was out in the open for everyone to see. 

You just never thought the sun would burn so much.

Your gaze travelled over to the blonde woman, still at work, applying some type of ointment to Katniss' neck. She hadn't said a word.

You suddenly realized that you were staring at Carine Everdeen.

You looked back to Haymitch, then Carine, then back at him, a question lying silently in your eyes. You opened your mouth, but you didn't need to. Haymitch just nodded, a solemn countenance overtaking his face. At his confirmation, you felt yourself physically deflate.

You weren't hallucinating.

Prim was dead.

You sat there with that information for a bit, unknowing of what to do with it. Katniss' innocent little sister was dead, caught in the crossfire of a fight she should've never had to live through. 

Katniss only ever volunteered to spare her sister.

And now she was dead, anyway.

She deserved to be acknowledged. You didn't know what to say, but she deserved the effort. Prim deserved the world.

Your voice was just barely above a whisper, hoarse from either the lack of use or remorse, perhaps both. "Mrs. Everdeen?"

Her hands paused mid-movement. She slowly turned around to look at you. Only, she wasn't looking at you. She wasn't really there.

You could count the number of times you spoke to Carine on one hand. It'd only ever been in passing, a hello here and there. She wasn't close with Katniss, therefore, she wasn't close with you. But right now, it didn't matter how close you were at all.

Somehow, everyone felt so faraway.

You swallowed. "I'm so sorry."

She was silent, but you could see every word she wasn't speaking in her eyes. Sadness, regret, anger, devastation. Grief. For a second, you could see her come back, but she was gone just as quickly as she reappeared.

"Me, too."

The ride from the triage centre to the Palace was all a blur. Somewhere in between everything, you got dressed into your own clothes, not the ones from 13. You briefly wondered how they got ahold of them.

Katniss was still there, sleeping. Maybe she woke up by now. You just needed to get out of there. Haymitch had told you that Finnick was en route, and you asked him to help you get out before he got there, to just tell him that they'd taken you to the Palace right away like they originally planned.

You didn't know why you did that, but you just knew you couldn't talk to him. Not yet.

They gave you a random room then left you there after you asked them to. You were sure they weren't supposed to do that, probably on Coin's orders, but the glare you sent them must've been real bad because they went scurrying out like mice.

You exhaled when they closed the door, finally alone. For a second, you felt like you could breathe again. And then you caught a glimpse of the bed and it was back to feeling like you were suffocating.

Crimson red sheets, gold accents. A ginormous velvet head board. A huge comforter that would likely warm you up— God, you were still so cold.

But you'd lied on a bed just like that before. And you were just as cold then, even with the warm body lying right next to you.

You cupped your mouth, knees buckling, but your other trembling hand grasped onto the chair right in front of you. You held onto that crest for dear life, simultaneously holding back a sob.

Calm down, Y/N. Just stop.

You were trying— you were fucking trying. But then your eyes zeroed in on items on the table in front of you. They blended in with the rest of the extravagant decor of this room, but once you saw them, it was all you could see.

A crown.

And a vase of fucking roses. 

You screamed, letting go of the chair and throwing the vase the ground, not caring if any of the shards hit you. The crown was next. Then you were tumbling down to the ground, too.

The dam in your eyes broke, tears flooding down your cheeks with no sign of stopping. Sobs wracked through your body.

It hurt. It fucking hurt. Not your legs. Not your back. Not your ears. Your heart. You clawed at your chest relentlessly, pleading for the pain to go away.

"Please," you cried. "Please make it stop." You don't know who you were crying to. You hadn't prayed in ages— you didn't even know what you believed in anymore. All you knew was that you were on your knees, begging for any God to listen.

But nobody answered.

You might've sat on the floor of that room for hours—you truly didn't know. You cried until you didn't have tears anymore, until you were numb. You just sat there after that, staring at the ground, at the crown you threw.

So much power that a single object had over you. It was a mask. A contract. A lie. A trick painted in gold. Your legacy.

It was your fucking poison.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they said. 

They didn't know the half of it.

After a while, you got sick of staring at it, forcing yourself up and immediately turning to the door. You were exhausted, sure, and you'd sleep eventually, but not on that bed.

You turned the knob on the door and shut it behind you, knowing it was unlikely that you'd return to it. You made your way through the Palace like it was second nature; you knew this place well. Dozens of parties and faux appearances would do that to you.

The Palace only held poor memories for you. Here, your life as a marionette began, and you hadn't known anything different since. What person would want to stay in a place like that, a place that symbolized the moment their life changed forever?

Getting reaped might've been when your life went downhill, but your life became Snow's the second you stepped into his home.

You found yourself pulling the French doors to the backyard open, wanting to feel a cold that didn't come from your own body. The ground was covered in a blanket of white that crunched beneath your feet. Only a thin jacket protected you from the air sharply licking your skin, but you welcomed the feeling.

You didn't know what you were doing, but when you saw two men guarding the Rose Garden, you couldn't help but be pulled to it, like you still had strings attached to your limbs.

You were just reaching the doors when one of the guards stepped in front of them, his hand out. "Sorry, Princess. Can't let you pass."

His statement caused you to intake a deep breath, whether it was from the actual statement itself or the name that so happened to spill from his lips. You had half a mind to argue with him—you weren't sure if you were in your right mind at all—until a familiar voice ordered, "Let her in." 

You turned your head, seeing Paylor stood on the steps you had just walked down.

If you were in a better state of mind, you might've smiled.

"On my authority. She has a right to anything behind that door."

You didn't smile, but you settled for a nod. You weren't sure if your eyes translated correctly, but when she nodded back, you knew she received your message.

You weren't just thanking her for this.

Without another thought, you turned back to the garden. The guards opened the glass doors for you, letting you in. Immediately, your nostrils were flooded with the rich scent of earth. Green plants and bushes were everywhere, the most vibrant colour of green you'd ever seen in your life. You wondered if light hit differently in the Capitol, allowing people to see colours you didn't have back home.

Then you thought back to how people here had ignored the black tendrils engulfing the city for so long, and you realized that: yes, light must have hit differently here. It was impossible to ignore the darkness otherwise.

White roses were everywhere. It made you sick, but you stopped the bile from rising. There were so many. You used to wonder why Snow seemed so obsessed with flowers, why he wore them on his person at all times, but you supposed it was no secret anymore.

Help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal.

Your eyes were trained on one of the roses when a voice cut through your daze. "That's a nice one."

Instantly, every part of your body stiffened, but you ignored every instinct screaming at you to spin around. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

"The colours are lovely, of course. But nothing says perfection like white." 

Your jaw locked, and you made good effort to relax it before you turned around. Seeing him there with that smile on his face nearly made you crumble, but you stood tall, echoing, "Ironic, isn't it? How a man so tainted tries to fool the world with an illusion of purity."

His grin only widened. "I was hoping you would find your way here. I knew you would." You wanted to slap the grin off his face and strangle him until the smugness in his voice disappeared. Your hands clenched by your sides, and judging by the way his eyes twinkled, he saw. 

He sat down on a ledge, musing, "You always were my greatest achievement."

The words were being spat from your mouth before you could stop them. "I am not your anything."

He tilted his head just ever so slightly, staring at you with pools of condescension as if telling you that wasn't true. It wasn't true, and he knew you knew it.

"I have a feeling your visit will be brief, so let's not waste our time, shall we?" You hated the way the word our rolled off his tongue, but you didn't show it on your face.

Snow cut himself off with a cough, bringing his handkerchief to his mouth. When he lowered it, it was spotted in blood. "Please offer my condolences to Ms. Everdeen about her sister." He tutted to himself. "So wasteful. So unnecessary."

You scoffed a humourless chuckle. "Really?"

"Why, yes, dear," he replied, shaking his head for effect. "Anyone could see the game was over by that point. In fact, I was just about to issue an official surrender when they released those parachutes."

A scowl crawled onto your face. "What the hell are you on about? You released those parachutes."

"You really think I gave the order?" He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes peering into your soul. You didn't once look away. "We both know I'm not above killing children. But I am not wasteful." He stressed the word like it was disgraceful to him. "I take life for... specific reasons. And there was no reason for me to destroy a pen full of Capitol children— none at all—"

He was cut off by another cough. It did little to disturb you; you were already disgusted from the moment he began talking. Every word he spoke was careful and calculated. Listening to him explain his rhyme and reason wasn't something you were interested in. What reason could he possibly have for what he'd done?

He took the lives of everyone he met. Every person you cared about had fallen victim to his schemes. Katniss. Johanna. Peeta. Finnick. He took your mother's life— he took your life.

There was nothing he could say to ever make you understand his perspective.

Once he stopped coughing and looked back up at you, the smile was right back on his face like it never left. "I must concede, it was a masterful move on Coin's part," he admitted. The second he uttered Coin's name, you tensed even more than you thought possible. Humour laced through his voice. "The idea that I was bombing our own helpless children to hold back the rebels... it turned the last of my guards against me. There was no resistance left inside the Capitol or the mansion." He leaned forward again, like he was letting you in on a little secret. "Do you know it aired live? There's a... particular savvy in that, isn't there?"

You were afraid that, if he kept talking, you wouldn't be able to hold back the bile in your throat. He's crazy. This was Coriolanus Snow, a man who rose to the top by knocking down anything or anyone that stood in his way. You couldn't trust a word that came out of his mouth.

Yet you were still compelled to listen to him.

The moment you met Coin flashed behind your eyes as you blinked. You felt the sensation of shaking her hand all over again. Every encounter you ever had with her ran through your mind.

You thought back to when you were in 2 and her and Commander Lyme disagreed.

You've been underground a long time, Madam Coin. This isn't like the rest of Panem. Support for the Capitol runs deep here.

Then there is no sacrifice too great.

Snow pulled you out of your trance. "I'm sure she wasn't gunning for that Everdeen girl, but... these things happen in war." It was as if he could see the gears in your head spinning out of control.

Spinning, spinning, spinning— 

"My failure was in being so slow to grasp Coin's plan," he proclaimed. "She let the Capitol and the districts destroy one another, then she stepped in to take power with 13's arsenal. Oh, make no mistake." He chuckled. "She intends to take my place now."

Your skin was crawling. You felt the urge to rip it off.

Something about his smile became more harrowing, like he was placing down his final piece on the chess board. "But I've been watching you. And you watching me." You dug your nails into your skin. "I'm afraid we've both been played for fools."

No. 

No.

"You're lying." You didn't even sound convincing to yourself.

He tutted once more. "Y/N, my dear, I may have done many things, but have I ever once lied to you?"

You were gonna be sick. You turned around before he could see the tears gathering in your eyes.

This was over.

You went for the door, but just as you were about to knock on it and alert the guards, Snow stopped you in your tracks. "I see so much of myself in you, Y/N."

You felt your lips tremble, but not a single tear raced down your cheek. You didn't allow it.

Slowly, you turned around, your voice quiet but firm. "I am nothing like you," you avowed—to him and to yourself.

You didn't spend another second wasting your time looking at him, going to knock on the door as he broke into a fit of coughing. That coughing transformed into laughter.

Snow laughed maniacally as you left the garden and didn't stop. You could hear him laughing as you powered through his backyard, echoing in the empty space.

And even when you were back inside the Palace, his laugh still followed you.

You found a random hallway in the mansion, the first one that didn't remind you of anything, and you immediately went to the wall closest to you, leaning your forehead against it and inhaling a shaky breath.

Get your shit together, you scolded.

You already broke down once today. You didn't deserve another breakdown— no, you couldn't afford another breakdown. You needed time to think.

Did you believe Snow? Was this just his last way of fucking with you before he died, trying to get the last laugh by absolving himself of the blame? He had to know that he'd reached the end of the line, that he'd be dying at your hands.

He lost, and you won. The war was over—all that was left to do was kill him.

Katniss' voice suddenly rang through your head. This isn't right, she'd said, mourning the possibility of innocent life being lost before it even happened. You remembered your response to that, too.

It's fire catching, Everdeen.

A shiver ran through your body. Was this what fire catching looked like? Children dying. Hundreds of people with their lives forever altered—hundreds of people injured or killed by those bombs going off. Fire caught onto them.

This didn't feel like a win. Mulling over Snow's accusations in your head, it all made sense. There were no victors in an arena. You deluded yourself into thinking this was anything other than a game while Coin was playing her winning card.

You remembered what it was like in the arena, surviving off of ruthlessness, uncaring of what'd happen to anyone else as long as it meant you got to win.

But this wasn't meant to be a game. 

I see so much of myself in you, Y/N.

You didn't want to be like that anymore. You didn't want to play anymore.

"Y/N?"

You turned around, being met with the Girl on Fire standing across from you on the other side of the hallway. That was the name Caesar gave her from her first Tribute Parade, but you no longer found it appropriate.

The Girl on Fire was the girl who volunteered in place of her sister.

The woman that stood in front of you now had her sister killed by the very thing that once defined her.

You made it a point to never call her that again.

Katniss Everdeen was her name. She was The Mockingjay. And somehow, she became your best friend. So then and there, as you stared at one another, you knew that you had to tell her what Snow said, regardless of what you believed.

Softly, you told her, "We have to talk."

Yet no matter how soft your voice was, you don't think anything could have ever softened the blow.

Katniss took you to her room, and there, you told her everything. When you were done explaining, she looked so empty but so full of so many emotions at the same time. 

Do you believe it? she asked you.

I don't know, you responded. I don't know.

You sat there with her and gave her time to absorb it, not saying another word. The two of you sat there in silence until Gale came and fetched you, saying that Coin wanted to speak with you both.

You got up and left the room but closed the door on your way out. She wanted to talk to him—she needed to. 

You were there waiting for her when she was done, and you pretended you didn't watch Gale leave the room with tears in his eyes. 

Side by side, you walked to Snow's cabinet room with you leading the way. No one told you it'd be there, but you had a strong suspicion that that'd be Coin's choice. When you found two armed guards in front of the double doors, you were proven correct—and you didn't know why that unnverved you so much.

About 20 feet away from the doors, you held your arm out in front of Katniss, effectively stopping her. You had sat in silence with her for who knew how long, but now was one of those moments when you felt like you had to say something, and you were gonna take it before you got within earshot of those guards.

You stepped in front of her slightly so you could look at her, and for a moment, you lost your footing. It wasn't like you saw Katniss anything other than indifferent often, but this look struck you to the core. 

Perhaps it was the thin line of her lips. Maybe it was the emptiness in her eyes, no emotion in sight. Or maybe it was how you felt like you were staring into a mirror.

But she deserved so much better than being you.

Katniss Everdeen deserved the justice you never had.

You didn't know how to say all of this, nor did you know if she was in the headspace to listen, so you made sure she was looking at you when you spoke. "Do what you have to do," you whispered.

She stared at you for a few seconds, empty, but in all the darkness of her eyes you could see a faint light shine. Clarity.

She understood.

She gave you a small nod, and then you were moving out of the way, finishing your walk to the conference room. You might've been vague, but you knew your point was received. Whatever she wanted to do from this point forward, you'd stand by it.

The ball was in her court now.

The men in front of the doors gave you short nods of acknowledgement before stoically opening the doors. When they did, you weren't met only with Coin. This was a room full of victors.

And even though you suspected they hadn't been chatty before you entered, they were now radio silent.

Your eyes immediately locked with Finnick's, and you would've exhaled if you weren't under the microscope. He's okay. He's okay, and you knew that already, Y/N. You knew he was okay, but being told that wasn't the same as seeing him in person.

You didn't think you'd get to see those blue eyes again.

But you were.

Finnick flashed you a soft smile. It wasn't his classic Finnick smile, the one he'd throw at cameras and crowds. He was visibly exhausted, but he still found it in himself to smile at you.

It was the least you could do to smile back, even if it wasn't as dazzling as his.

"What's this?" the brunette beside you questioned, knocking you out of your trance. Her voice was cold and detached, but you noticed something now that wasn't there before. Deep underneath that ice was red, hot anger.

From Coin's response, you doubted she caught it. "The remaining victors." She gestured to the table. "Won't you join us?" Behind her, Johanna held out her arms, too, a mocking smile on her face that would've made you laugh if you weren't so tired.

You followed Katniss' lead, taking the last two seats at the table while also taking a cursory glance of the room. Beetee, Enobaria, Haymitch, Johanna, Finnick, Peeta, and Annie. You frowned. She was supposed to be on her honeymoon, not back in the Capitol—probably never back in the Capitol. But she glanced at you and you smiled, anyway.

"I have invited you all here for several reasons, but first, I have an announcement." Both Coin's words and her tone of made you look back at her, but then something else caught your attention.

Even under the glare of all the chandeliers in the room, you could still see the glint in her eye.

"I have taken the burden and the honour of declaring myself interim President of Panem." 

Oh, you could've laughed. Even though there wasn't a single thing funny about it.

You settled for narrowing your eyes; meanwhile, Haymitch scoffed. "Interim? Exactly how long is that interim?"

Coin's hands remained clasped on the table, and she didn't flinch. "We have no way of knowing for certain. But it's clear that the people are far too emotional right now to make a rational decision." Her voice was calm and collected, if not condescending. "We'll plan an election when the time is right."

You hummed, and even though she undoubtedly heard you, she ignored it.

"But I have called you here for a far more important vote." She finally look her hands off the table, leaning back. "A symbolic vote." 

Everyone in this room is a symbol in some way, you thought, but you held your tongue. Symbols didn't mean much to people who had been turned into nothing more than just that, but the thought must've escaped her.

"This afternoon, we will execute Snow. Hundreds of his accomplices also await their deaths. Capitol officials, Peacekeepers, torturers, Gamemakers. But the danger is, once we begin, the rebels will not stop calling for retribution." Dread crept into your stomach. Whatever she was going to propose, you wouldn't like it. "Thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy. So... I offer an alternative plan. Majority of five may approve it— no one may abstain." She gave you a pointed glance. "The proposal is this. In lieu of these barbaric executions, we hold a symbolic Hunger Games."

Somehow, the room got quieter.

You fought to keep your face impassive—though, you were unknowing if you succeeded. You could only hope that the years of pretending paid off.

In lieu? What the hell did that mean? She wanted to spare a horde of evil people in exchange for the lives of innocents? That didn't make any sense.

But then you realized, powerful people. It'd be sparing powerful people. 

Johanna broke the silence with a laugh. It bounced off the decorated walls like rubber. "You wanna have another Hunger Games with— the Capitol's children?"

Peeta monotoned, "You're joking."

"Not in the slightest," Coin responded.

You glanced at Katniss. She was mute, just staring staring straight at Coin. They all might've thought she was in shock, grieving, but you knew the truth.

It was all falling into place for her.

Finnick let out a scoff. "Is this Plutarch's idea?"

If you didn't know any better, you would've thought the look on Coin's face was offense and not pride. "It was mine." There was another scoff in the room, probably from Haymitch that time. "It balances the need for revenge... with the least loss of human life."

The least loss of valuable of human life.

"You may cast your votes—"

"No," Peeta cut her off immediately, voting first. "No, obviously not. This is crazy."

"I think it's more than fair," Jo chimed in. "Snow's got a granddaugter. I say yes." You didn't judge her for that answer, even if you didn't agree with it. All of you had felt pain at the hands of the Capitol, but you couldn't possibly imagine condemning anyone else to the same fate.

Capitol children or not, they were still children. They weren't symbols; they were human. And you refused to join any line of thinking that said otherwise.

"So do I," Enobaria said, her red lips curving into a smile that made you remember when those lips were once coated in blood. "Let them have a taste of it."

"You guys, this way of thinking is what started these uprisings." Peeta's voice was incredulous.

Annie spoke up. "I vote no. With Peeta." Despite the decision in her tone, she cast a worried glance your way right after. Why haven't you said anything? her eyes read.

You looked away from them.

"No," Beetee voted. "We need to stop viewing each other as enemies." 

Finally, the voice you were waiting for sparked. "You have to be kidding me right now." Finnick had a baffled smile on his face, and you had a feeling he was going to start saying a few choice words.

And you didn't know why just yet, but you couldn't let him.

Before he could get his vote in, you blurted, "Yes." His head immediately snapped to yours, and you felt instant regret when his eyes met yours. In the swirls of all the blue, you could see betrayal.

The bile that you worked so hard to suppress earlier was back rising, but you wouldn't let it leave. He had to understand. You had to make him understand. 

You kept your eyes on his, no matter how sick it made you feel, pleading to him silently. His own words echoed through your head.

Please just trust me.

Trust you to do what?

I just need you to trust me, Y/N, please. Trust me.

You did. You trusted him, even when you didn't understand it at all, and now you were just begging him to return the favour.

You closed your for a brief second. Please just trust me, Finnick.

"Yes." Your eyes flew wide open to see him already looking at you. He maintained your stare before looking back to Coin. "You've got my yes, too."

He said yes. But really, he was saying so much more than that.

I trust you.

Coin nodded, disclosing, "It's down to Katniss and Haymitch." Majority of five. Only one of them had to say yes for her plan to take off, and you already knew which one of them it'd be.

Coin's eyes narrowed while Katniss remained expressionless, and in that moment, it was clear that The Hunger Games wasn't the one Coin was proposing. It was this, and President Coin was the Gamemaker and engineer behind it all. This was a game of cat and mouse.

Only Coin wasn't the cat.

After a beat of silence, Katniss finally spoke. "I get to kill Snow," she dictated.

A few pairs of eyes flitted to you, but you only focused on one of them. Coin glanced at you, and when you didn't object, she obliged, "Of course."

The room was back to silence, but your mind was anything but. What you heard were strings, brass, percussion, and a whole orchestra of instruments. A cacophony of noise and voices singing about a necklace of hope, only getting louder, and louder, and louder, and louder—

And then the beat dropped.

"Then I vote yes." That's five. For the first time since you entered the room, there was a crack in Katniss' voice. "For Prim."

That was nearly a warning, but if Coin caught the edge to her voice, she didn't say anything about it. You think she was so consumed by satisfaction that she wouldn't have been able to notice, anyway.

She turned her attention to Haymitch if not just to stay true to her words. No one may abstain. "Haymitch?"

Katniss and Haymitch shared a gaze for a few seconds, and then he looked to you, and to Finnick, before he was looking back to Coin. He didn't agree with this, but he still lied, "I'm with the, uh, Mockingjay."

Coin nodded, poorly stifling a smile. You wondered how anyone could smile at the news of a slaughter. "That carries the vote. Excellent. We'll announce The Games tonight after the execution."

And that was it. She got what she wanted. She won.

But as you glanced at Katniss to see the emptiness returning to her eyes, you had a feeling that wouldn't last very long.

Stylists brought you to your room and did your hair for you, taking the locks and forming them into the braided updo that the people had grown to love. It was a crown—that's why they liked it so much. You would've preferred to leave your hair as it was, but you compromised that you'd do the hair if they didn't make you wear that ridiculous costume.

Cinna was an impeccable designer, but if you could go forever without wearing that suit, it'd still be too soon.

On your way into your room, the stylists ignored the broken glass on the floor, stepping over it and sending each other looks that they thought were discreet. They weren't.

When they saw the crown lying on the floor, too, they didn't dare ask you to wear it.

They left soon after little small talk, though you didn't think they blamed you. You looked like shit before they got to fixing you up, making you look like you'd actually slept. 

Your lips were no longer pale, coated in lipstick that didn't look like lipstick. You supposed the "natural" element was part of the Princess façade. They did something that made your cheeks look less hollow and more rosy, and they concealed the bags under your eyes pretty nicely.

Now, you looked like the Princess.

But she doesn't exist, a voice reminded you. She's not you.

You tilted your head at the woman in the mirror. She wasn't your reflection; she was a mirage. You didn't see yourself in any of it, but you didn't see yourself before they added all the glamour, either. 

Who are you, Y/N?

You swore to yourself you'd find out.

After slipping on your coat, you left the room, promising never to see it again. You were walking to the front when you saw a woman in five inch heels and silvers tassles exiting a room, a big blonde wig on her head with sharp silver ticks pinned into it that looked like they could stab her if she fell the wrong way.

She glanced to the side and saw you before you could greet her, beating you to it. "Oh, Y/N!" A big grin came to her face as she marched her way over to you, heels clicking against the floor adamantly. You think she would've skipped if she could've. 

Her arms wrapped themselves around your frame before you could even think about protesting. "How lovely it is to see you!" she exclaimed.

Your humour trumped your discomfort, making you laugh and reciprocate the hug. "Hi, Effie." When she pulled away, you were quick to cut to the chase, knowing she'd talk your ear off for ages if you gave her the chance. You nodded to the doors she walked out of. "Is Katniss in there?"

"Oh, yes— yes, dear!" She ushered you to the doors. "Go right ahead!"

"Thank you." Effie uttered something along the lines of 'no problem' before opening the doors and practically closing them within the same breath.

The smile that was on your face promptly dropped when you saw Katniss, looking no better than earlier, but you made quick work to bring it back. "Hey, Everdeen." You tried to make your voice light, but the heaviness in the air didn't dissipate.

She turned to you after just a second too long, almost like she hadn't heard you. A grimace crossed her face, but you could tell it was her attempt at a smile.

You stood there for a bit, keeping your hands at your sides. There wasn't much more to say—this was it. After this, you didn't know what'd happen. What would life even be like without being crushed by the Capitol's thumb? Would you go home? Did you even have one?

You didn't know how any of this would play out, but you did know that whatever ending Katniss wrote, it would likely end in the two of you separating. You'd both go home, and you'd no longer see the girl you got so used to. Realistically, you'd only been in close quarters for a month, but before that, you were isolated. Katniss helped you get acclimated with the revolution and gave you hope for a better world, and now you'd be going into it without her.

She wouldn't be at your side anymore, but you wanted her to know that you'd be standing behind her regardless.

In two strides, you were embracing her in your arms before you could think better of it. She froze, stiffening, and you were just about to let go and apologize when she engulfed you with the exact same fervour.

Your lips curved upward, and that time, it wasn't forced.

Eventually, you pulled back, resting your hands on her forearms. Her eyes didn't look so empty anymore. 

You wanted to thank her for everything she'd done for you without knowing it, for saving your life in more ways than one. You wanted to tell her you loved her.

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off before you could even try. "I know." She nodded, the slighest quirk of her lips visible. "I know." Pause. "Me, too."

She knew. You didn't need to say it, and neither did she. 

Things weren't okay—they probably wouldn't be for a while, but in that moment, you knew they'd get better one day, even if you wouldn't be around each other to see it.

You nodded back at her, and you squeezed her arms one last time, whispering, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Katniss."

And then you were letting her, walking away and leaving her alone while you still could. If you'd stayed any longer, you don't know if you would've left.

There was nothing left unsaid, and those were the best kinds of endings. But it was an ending, and that left you with bittersweet feelings you couldn't name.

Deep down, you knew you probably wouldn't see her again, and perhaps that was why you didn't meet the cars waiting for you at the front. If that was the last you saw her, you wanted that to be your last encounter.

And, so, your last memory of Katniss Everdeen was in that room.

The word revolution, in the least words possible, meant change. That's what'd been happening for months now, if not years, and your reality was on the cusp of being turned on its head.

Yes, things changed.

And yet some things never did.

West of the city, there was a big lake; you found yourself there when you were supposed to be watching Snow's execution. A certain part of you was disappointed that you wouldn't get to watch him die; it was all you wanted ever since you got to 13, your sole motivation for staying alive.

But the other part of you was relieved. He would die, yes, but he wouldn't see you again before he did. He wouldn't get another chance to exercise his power over you ever again. So instead of being there, you were here, watching the water.

It reminded you of home. Back in your days at the Capitol, you didn't get do much sight-seeing of the city. You'd be brought in for a day or two, really only for the nights, and then you'd be sent back by morning. But once you met Finnick, he started walking around with you, and some nights you'd end up here.

You'd stare at the lake together in silence. Back then, the water was as close to freedom as you'd ever get. You supposed that was one of the things that did change.

You were free now.

What does that mean?

You pondered over that question for a while. For so long, you dreamed of even just tasting freedom; the thought was unattainable for so long, but now it was in your hands and you didn't know what you'd do.

The war was over.

But it wasn't.

The fight was over for you, but that didn't mean it was over for anyone else. Homes were destroyed. People were dead, and even more people were left here just to grieve. The nation was broken.

What did that make you if you just went home and left things like this? Maybe you'd done enough. Maybe you should just go home and retire the crown, finally get the rest you'd been longing for. But you didn't want that.

Who are you, Y/N?

Maybe you could be more than Panem's Princess.

"Y/N."

You were startled by the call of your name, spinning around. When you were met with eyes that matched the water behind you, you were calmed down.

"Finnick." A smile graced his face, eliciting one from you like it was contagious. "Hi."

"Hi." So many words to say, and yet that was the only one that either of you said. 

He walked up to you, turning his gaze to the lake, and just like old times, you did the same. Just like old times, the two of you stared out at the water without saying a thing. Just like old times, for a little while, you were just Y/N, and he was just Finnick.

And just like old times, all of that came to an end eventually.

"You weren't at the execution," he said at one point.

"No," you replied. "I wasn't."

"But you already know what happened." It was set up like a question, but it wasn't.

You turned to see him already looking at you. His eyes weren't angry; they were just curious. You quirked one side of your lips upward. "I had a feeling." Judging by his statement, your feeling was correct. Your lips quickly drooped downward. "Is—"

He nodded before you could finish. "Katniss is alright." A breath of relief left you. "Paylor's gonna pardon her eventually. She'll probably be taking over." That confirmed it.

Coin was dead. And Snow was, too.

When you got your bearings, you shrugged. "I'd vote for her." You might've said it just to bring some humour to the conversation, but it wasn't a joke. You had no doubts that Commander Paylor would lead the nation with courage.

Finnick chuckled, agreeing, but as soon as he stopped, the light disappeared, reminding you of the weight of the conversation you were about to have. You didn't think you'd even be alive to have it, but you were, and now there was no avoiding it. 

He must've seen the shift in your demeanour. "Y/N—"

"I love you," you breathed, cutting him off. If you were gonna have this talk, then that was the way you needed to start it. "I love you, and I have loved you for years. I'm so happy that I get to say it out loud now, because I never thought I'd get to, but Finnick, I—" the quivering of your lips made you stop. Realization dawned on his face, and that made tears come to your eyes. "I don't think love is enough."

He stepped closer to you, grabbing your hands. You let him. "Y/N—"

A tear raced down your cheek. "I don't know who I am when I'm not pretending. I lost myself trying to love you," you confessed, more tears falling down your face, but in the blur, you could see tears in his eyes, too. "I need to find myself again. I'm not— I'm not in the right headspace for a relationship right now, and it wouldn't be fair to you to jump right into one like everything's okay." Your voice shook. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

You were just about to pull your hands away when he squeezed them tighter. "No, I can— I can wait."

Your chest tightened as you held back a sob. He was so frantically trying to hold onto you when he shouldn't have been. You shook your head. "No, you don't understand. I need to stay here— I need time—"

"I can give you time!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking, simultaneously cracking your heart. "I can stay here— I can wait. Y/N, I will wait forever for you if you need me to."

This time, the sob did leave you, and there was nothing you could do stop it. "You shouldn't have to! You should just go be happy—"

"I can't be happy without you," he argued, stepping even closer to you like his every action was begging you to see his perspective. 

At his interruption, more sobs fell from your lips, and he promptly pulled you into his chest. Instinctually, your arms wrapped around his torso, and his hands went to your head, caressing your hair as you cried.

You cried, and cried, and cried, and he held you all through it, letting you soak his shirt with your tears. He held onto you tightly, and not just physically, either.

Finnick Odair would never let you go.

Never again.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, you calmed down. You don't remember when you did or what happened after that, but eventually, your eyes were fluttering open to a white ceiling. Your hands grasped at your surroundings, feeling linen scrunch beneath your fingertips.

You glanced to the side where a big window was, light shining in from the moon. You furrowed your brows. How long were you out—and where were you?

Slowly, you stood up, soreness hitting your body immediately. You held back a hiss. Sleep must've given the bruises time to marinate; you decided to ignore it.

You walked through what was clearly a bedroom and opened the door. It opened into a hallway; noise was coming from the left, so that's where you went.

You didn't know what exactly you were expecting when you reached the end of the hall, but it certainly wasn't Finnick in front of a stove, frying something out of view. 

"Finnick?"

He turned around, eyes widening. "Oh, hey— let me just—" your brows raised as he turned back to the stove, picking up the pan and dropping its contents onto two plates on the counter. Eggs. You blinked, and memories flashed underneath your eyelids of scenes just like this one.

You didn't think you'd ever see him cooking again.

When you opened your eyes, he was back to facing you, a sheepish smile on his face that looked just a touch out of place. "Sorry, I was cooking us some food." He gestured behind him then added, "Since you can't."

You scoffed, almost like you hadn't just been bawling your eyes out, almost like you were back at home and everything was still fine. "Okay, first of all, screw you—" he let out a chuckle, "second of all, thank you. And third of all, where the hell are we right now?" Your eyes scanned the area; this wasn't a hotel room. It was an apartment. "Last I remember, we were at the lake."

"This used to be Cressida's old place," he explained. "Said we could crash here as long as we wanted. She doesn't really wanna be here either way."

"Oh." We. We could crash here, he said. You were brought back to reality. "Finnick—"

"Let's eat," he cut you off, an easygoing smile on his face. Easygoing, but not easy. You could see the nerves churning behind his expression, so with a sigh, you nodded, letting him lead you to the dinner table and pull out your chair.

You told yourself you did it for him. But really, you wanted to prolong this for a little while longer, too.

He put your plate and cutlery in front of you. You wondered how he managed to procure eggs that weren't expired, but you didn't ask him aloud. You just picked up your fork and started eating.

Whether it was your hunger or your desire to hold onto this, you stayed silent as you ate. You even caught Finnick eating slower than usual; he wanted to hold onto this, too. He was determined to do so.

You and Finnick did what you did best: you pretended. You pretended that you didn't just lose it and cry yourself to the point of passing out. You pretended that you didn't have to talk after this. You pretended that you were still living in the life you had before the Quell, eating dinner every night just like this. And in remembering those dinners, you pretended that you weren't pretending then, too.

But you couldn't pretend forever.

You finished your food first and waited for Finnick to finish his. He took his time, and you let him. You let him twiddle with his fork when he was done, and then you let him take your plates and wash them afterwards. And once they were on the drying rack and he had no more excuses, you stood up from your chair with reality ready to spill from your lips.

"Finnick—"

He took no more than second to get to you. "Please, just— hold on." 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "We can't avoid this forever."

"I know." Despite the shake in his voice, there was undeniable resolution in it. "And if... if what you said is really what you want, I'll give it to you." Out of sheer surprise, your eyes opened. The face you loved so much looked pained, but he still gave you a smile. This time, you could tell it wasn't real; it was purely for your sake. "There are countless things I need to apologize to you for, and I'd spend the rest of my life making it all up to you if you let me, but I'd do anything for you. So if what you want is for me to walk out that door right now, I'll do it." He swallowed, like he was scared out of his mind. "I just want to ask you one thing first."

The rational side of your mind screamed at you not to entertain it, to say no and get him to leave while you could both still bear it. He was willing to give you an out—that's what you wanted.

Was that what you wanted?

No, what you wanted was to feel better, and sometimes, Finnick did that, but other times, he did the exact opposite. Most times, the rational you corrected. Most times, he made you feel worse. But the happiness he gave you in those few times overrode everything else.

The other version of you, the one that remembered the good just as equally as the bad, nodded and gave him the greenlight.

He enveloped your hands in his, and the warmth made you realize just how cold you were. "Dance with me," he pleaded. "Dance with me and then decide."

No. Don't do it—

Transfixed by the way he was staring at you, you found yourself agreeing and ignoring your inner voice. "One dance," you told him.

The smile on his face became a grin. Real. This time, it was real. "That's all I'll ask," he promised. You took his word for it.

One last dance. 

He led you to the open area between the kitchen and the living room, keeping your hands in his hold and pulling you closer. You rested your head on his, listening to his heart rattle against his ribcage. God, you missed that sound. 

You missed this.

Finnick swayed you slowly to the music, nothing external or tangible, but the music you were dancing to was more real than any song you'd ever heard.

You realized now that the rational you was right. Finnick set his trap, and you lied in it. Because now that you remembered what this felt like, how could you willingly give it up? How could you ever leave?

The song might've been filled with heightening moments, and there might've been times when you just wanted to throw the damn record player into the wall, but it was your song. 

And this was your dance.

Minutes passed before you pulled away. Finnick's hands immediately tightened on yours, and you squeezed them right back. You were pulling away, but the song wasn't over.

It wouldn't be over for a long time.

You warned him, "It's gonna be a lot of work, Finnick."

"I'm okay with that."

"We had a life back home— you had a life. I wouldn't be blaming you if you wanted to go back to it." 

He was shaking his head before you were even done speaking, eyes earnestly poring into yours. "I'll build any life so long as it's with you."

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt or lying but found none. When you were sure that you believed what he was saying, that he believed what he was saying, you released the smile you were holding back.

"Okay."

His eyes widened. "Okay?"

An involuntary giggle left you. "Yeah. Okay—" without warning, he picked you up and was twirling you around, making you squeal. "Finnick!"

Your laughs resounded throughout the apartment, and when he put you down, it was just to engulf you in his arms again. You wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to kiss you, but you'd have to work your way back up to that.

And eventually, you would.

No, your song wasn't over.

It was just restarting.

In district 12, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark stood inside their home. They started to live together after some time had passed, and while they weren't a couple at that moment, they were still together. That was more than enough for the both of them.

Katniss chopped up vegetables for the dinner they'd be having later with Haymitch while Peeta read her a letter, addressed to them both. They didn't get mail often, not in 12, so they didn't know entirely what was happening with everyone else, but this letter informed them of all that they'd missed.

You'll be happy to hear that Katniss' mother has been training new medical units in the Capitol. Thanks to her, we'll be able to heal many more people at a much faster rate.

Gale has been promoted to a captain in district 2 to help keep order and security. He's doing well there.

Johanna has gone back to district 7 where she is taking the healing process one day at a time. She'll take as much time as she needs.

Annie and Julian are back in 4, along with Mags. They spend every day loving their son the way we all should've been loved, and it's a beautiful sight to see.

I am in the Capitol. I run a centre for children all over Panem who have lost their parents. One of the children has been staying with me personally for a while; she reminds me of you, Katniss. I'm thinking of adopting her.

Finnick has been here with me. We're happy together. One day, not any time soon, but some day, I'm gonna marry him, and the two of you better be there for the wedding.

We've all suffered so much. But we owe it to the memories of everyone we've lost to do our best with these lives. 

I hope you're both finding some peace.

As Peeta read the last lines, Katniss smiled for the first time in a long time.

Sincerely,

Y/N

Taglist: @avoxrising @mxacegrey @littleshadow17 @lovelyteenagebeard @nasyanastya @catastrxblues @zodiyack @zulpix-blog @mushroomelephant @muggies @lantsovheiress @hobiebrowns-wife @notplutos @faeriepigeons @hnslchw @unholyhuntress @aclmagic @gloryekaterina @ayme301 @lem0ns77 @kisskittenn @onlyangel-444 @moonagedaydream505 @spderm4nnnn @satellitespeirs @glitzcute @iammirrorball @corpsebasil @forever-sleepy-sloth @omwtkydttfym @divinelovers @maggiecc @i-am-a-simp1 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @nelliereadsstuff @how2besalty @dreaminglandsworld @eilaharmonia @catvader101 @lexa138 @h0neylemon @dakotali @hermionelove @theseerbetweenus @whosscruffylooking @yourdailymemedelivery @emma-andrea1 @s1lngwns @meenyminymoes-blog @roxi-reid @rattertatter @sunnybunnyy2 @just-levyy @amaranth-writing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @joshhutchersonisdaddy @my-name-is-baby @hehehe13356 @quazsz @chloecharms23 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thehairington86 @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @ment1tavoid @hereliesme @tayrae515 @mottergirl99 @blackdxggr @giverosespls @erindiggory @feyretopia @bibliosaurus @sleila @soursonnets @blackoutdays13 @lovelyteenagebeard @nj01 @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @marimba375 @willow-g-1 @blahablah2 @inatimate-icarus @shoebillcuicui @scoliobean @awritingtree @h-------n @yoonki-bored @miserablebl00d @iloubr @fairytales007 @beannnnnnnn @dominicfikexoxo @aclmagic @helaenaluvr @ravenmedows @bigdolldoeeyesgirl to all taglist members, tell me if you want to be added to my finnick taglist overall! thank you for reading my fic, and thank you for enjoying it enough to even ask to be on the taglist.

additional a/n: see what i did there at the end—our song and DANCE ;) you guys, this is it. the song is over (for us at least). i'm in a mix of like pride and sadness. this has quite literally taken a year to finish. it's one of my fav things i've written to date, and at one point, it was the only thing i was writing. to those of you that have stuck around to the end, thank you. i really hope u enjoyed the series and its ending! i'm thinking of writing little blurbs for this and whatnot if ur interested, all revolving around their journey. eventually, i'll post a list of canons ab y/n and where i think she ends up. once again, thank you all so much for your support. reading your comments has never failed to make me smile. i love you!! have a great day.

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 3: dialogues regarding various decisions & quest progression

in early access, companions used to react much more to the decisions you made in dialogue as well as the overall quest progression pertaining to the main quest as well as side quests, and the events happening around them.

these conversations would be shorter in nature and were usually marked with an exclamation mark ( ! ) over their head.

some of these conversations survived the transition from early access to the full release, but they are very few and far between. the only ones that did survive are 1) gale's reaction to nettie poisoning the protag, 2) gale's reaction to saving mirkon, and 3) gale's reaction to saving arabella.

gale was much, much more responsive in early access and had conversations with the protag about a variety of topics.

following are all cut conversations / dialogues with gale (excluding the deer stew scene and loss scene, which i have covered here and here, but have decided to exclude because they are much longer conversations):

overview:

jergal's temple

reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave

arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing

protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer

karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel

after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick

killing the druids

arriving at the goblin camp

finding out that the absolute's brand is magic

about true souls

dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer

ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven

giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)

on ethel

on ethel's deal

after finishing mayrina's quest

the zhentarim chest / rugan

the myconid colony in the underdark

defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter

handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter

arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen

letting sazza escape

finding out about priestess gut from sazza

below the read more, you'll find the transcripts of these 23 cut conversations.

where i can and still have them, i will include screenshots and, when i can find them online, i will include links to watch those conversation in video format.

jergal's temple [link to gifset]

Gale: Bad form, isn't it? Grave robbing? Judging by those undead guardians, the architects of this crypt certainly thought so. - Protag Option 1: I'm desperate, not proud. Best to take what I can get.  Gale: Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 2: Dressing up the dead is pointless. They have no need for trinkets.  Gale: Never lost a loved one, have you? Then again, those who loved these loved ones are dust and bones themselves. - Protag Option 3: A good fight and fine treasure. What's not to like? Gale: I suppose that's one way to spin it. - Protag Option 4: Why care about decorum in a long-abandoned tomb? Gale: Because my mother raised a gentleman. Then again, to be alive is to be curious.  - Protag Option 5 [Cleric]: True. My god might not be particularly happy about it. Gale: You can pray for your sins later. I’m told that does the trick. Gale: Let's have a look at the loot. It isn't for your pockets only.

2. reaching the druid's grove / emerald enclave

Gale: So much for finding a safe haven. - Protag Option 1: This is a druid grove. With a bit of luck we'll find help here.  Gale: Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles.  - Protag Option 2: We won't linger long.  Gale: And we shouldn't – but we'd be remiss not to give the place a once-over. Druids master the ancient magic that is part of nature's fabric itself. They can make bloom, and they can make wither. Let's hope the latter applies to tadpoles. 

3. arabella the tiefling child dies / protag stood by and did nothing [link to gifset]

Gale: This place is a snake pit in more ways than one. That poor girl... Such sudden madness.... And what did we do? We stood by and watched. Her parents – we'll have to tell them that we failed.  - Protag Option 1: Our priority remains to find a healer. The most dangerous snake is in our heads, remember? Gale: Distinctly. But it hasn't poisoned my sense of right and wrong just yet. How about yours? - Protag Option 2: We're here on Zevlor's behalf. Let's not lose sight of that.  Gale: Yes, nothing like serving up a dead child as the appetiser to successful negotiations. - Protag Option 3: Her parents deserve to know what happened. And that we are not to blame.  Gale: So inaction equals innocence? There's a small corpse on the floor over there that might just beg to differ. - Protag Option 4: This is none of our concern. Where there's strife, there will be blood. Gale: And where there's blood, there will be vengeance. This troubled grove is about to become far more troubled still. - [Arabella died because protag failed the DC twice] Protag Option 5: The girl really should have left the druid's idol alone. Look where it got her.  Gale: If the errors of youth deserve an early grave, none of us would live to see a dozen summers. There is no justification for this tragedy.

4. protag killed lae'zel after lae'zel tried to prevent them from turning into a mind flayer

Gale: Lae'zel... that was brutal. Are you all right? I'm here if you want to talk about it. - Protag Option 1: Is there anything left to say? Gale: She was alive. Now she is dead. Might be worth a few words. Then again, maybe not. What a night... - Protag Option 2: She was danger to us all. She didn't leave me with a choice.  Gale: I was not judging, merely offering my sympathy.  One moment we are travelling together, then the next... - Protag Option 3: Don't bother. It's over and done with.  Gale: Words as final as your acts. One moment we are travelling together, then the next...

5. karlach vs anders, the paladin of tyr / agent of zariel

Gale: I have to say I don't know if agreeing to this hunt was such a wise idea. Who's to say who's the real villain in this tale of devils and masquerades? - Protag Option 1: Cheer up! It'll be fun.  Gale: Yes, I used to sign up for a round of Kill-The-Stranger every tenday back home [sarcastic]. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 2: You're saying I shouldn't trust a bunch of devil-sworn pretending to be paladins of Tyr? Gale: I'm saying I really shouldn't have to point that out. When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop. - Protag Option 3: It's easy: I say who the villain is. Gale: My, so it's you who is Tyr then, the mighty judge of justice?  Go ahead, tell them. I'm sure they'd love to fawn all over their erstwhile patron.

6. after edowin / the siblings brynna and andrick

Gale: I have to say, it's one thing to have a parasite in your head, quite another not to know it's there. What's more, these people weren't on the nautiloid with us. Just how many mind flayers are at work in these parts? - Protag Option 1: The real question is: how does this all link to their belief in this “Absolute”? Gale: Mind flayers excel -> See Option 3 - Protag Option 2: Do you really think there may be more mind flayers around? Gale: This True Soul and his acolytes are ample proof of that...  They 're ample proof of a dread suspicion as well.  - Protag Option 3: Let's move. I don't mean to lose daylight pondering idle questions.  Gale: You really do dismiss these events too casually. - Gale: Mind flayers excel at mind games. To enthral completely is their bread and butter. What if they perfected their craft by convincing their subjects they're not thralls at all, but that they have free will? That the commandments they experience are the will of a benevolent god. How terrifying a level of perfection that would be.

7. killing the druids

Gale: If Silvanus is the mighty oak, his druids were but the weakest of his leaves, tossed by the winds of fury. I can't shake the image of what happened to the grove: the winds have blown and the harvest has come. The oak stands lone and barren.  - Protag [Druid] Option 1: A grove destroyed... I dont think I can forgive myself. Gale: After winter, spring will come, but I'm not sure we left behind much fertile ground. - Protag [Druid] Option 2: The druids caused the harvest. It was only just we did the reaping. Gale: Yes, well, I prefer to pluck apples and pick strawberries. They don't tend to weigh on one's conscience. - Protag Option 3: They were in need of a lesson – and we taught it well. Gale: One usually needs to be alive to reap the benefits of education. If anything, we taught them too well.  - Protag Option 4: They felt threatened and lashed out. A tragedy I wish we could have avoided.  Gale: Their action are on them, that much is true, but the consequences are ours to carry - Protag Option 5: Come, let's move on. What's done is done. Gale: Look around you. What's done is done, but what's wrong is also wrong.

8. arriving at the goblin camp [link to gifset]

Gale: Amid all this grandeur sunk into squalor, I wonder what dismal corner we'll find Halsin in.  - Protag Option 1: Any suggestions? Gale: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. Stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions.  - Protag Option 2: What grandeur is that? Gale: This must have been a splendid complex once, a temple of impressive proportions. Worshippers lived here. Pilgrims visited. They required food, shelter, ceremony, entertainment. Now that it's nothing but a goblin-ridden death-trap? Plenty of places to hide away a druid, I imagine. - Protag Option 3: With our luck? Marinating in a cooking pot most likely. Gale: A hearty serving of druid stew wouldn't do us any good. No, let's hope the best and keep this in mind: Prisoners are treated the same by everyone: they serve as serfs, or they waste away in a dungeon. If he's still alive, it stands to reason we'll find Halsin in either one of these less-than-appealing conditions. Well -more-than-appealing conditions come to think of it, when one considers the stew alternative.

9. finding out that the absolute's brand is magic

Gut: Hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh. It's charged with magic. Ordinary slobs can't see it; only us that follow the Absolute.  Gale: Charged with magic? Perhaps that explains the ease with which these goblins submit to True Souls.

10. about true souls

Gale: I can hardly wrap my head around what we've just heard. Let's list up the facts, shall we? There are other people here with tadpoles in their heads. They can hear the tadpoles speak to them, and they think it's a new god. I don't know about you, but to me, none of this makes any logical sense.  - Protag Option 1: I concur. There doesn't seem to be a logical explanation. Gale: And yet I suspect something... intelligent behind it all. Some carefully nurtured scheme. - Protag Option 2: I'm seeing too many coincidences – which tend to add up to conspiracies.  Gale: Evil cults and grand designs, is it? Mind you, I'll not even dispute the possibility. - Protag Option 3: I don't care about logic, I care about solutions. Gale: I'm not sure those are mutually exclusive. If we seek to solve we must seek to comprehend.  - Gale: But let's not lose sight of what we've learned here – what joins us and what separates us from these True Souls: They heard a voice we do not hear, a voice that binds them in servitude. As long as we're possessed of our own free will, I venture to say there's hope for us yet.

11. dror ragzlin & the dead mindflayer

Gale: A grand necromantic spectacle staged at the behest of a newfangled god to track down... us. Can't quite say which of these two wins out: to be honoured or to be horrified. - Protag Option 1: The real question is: why are they looking for us? Gale: Several guesses spring to mind, all equally plausible and implausible at once. - Protag Option 2: Not to worry: we easily tricked that hobgoblin – and his god. Gale: We tricked the minion, yes, but its master? I doubt it. - Protag Option 3: Can't say I'm thrilled to be a god's pet project. Gale: Horrified it is then. - Gale: Fact is we're being hunted, but at least we have the hunters at a disadvantage: even here, in the lion's den, they don't recognise us as their prey.

12. ogre + bugbear couple in moonhaven

Gale: One moment they were embracing each other in intimacy, the next they're embracing only death. Can't say I'm proud of our actions here.  - Protag Option 1: Me either. We should have left well enough alone Gale: Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 2: Playing it a bit fast and loose with the word 'intimacy' there, Gale. Gale: I'm not contemplating definitions, I'm contemplating our deeds. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.  - Protag Option 3: Don't dwell on it. Ogres and bugbears are nothing but vermin. Gale: And yet they speak and bond and revel. Don't get me wrong, I know they'd have gladly made us their post-coital picnic given half a chance. It just feels wrong to turn lovemaking into life-taking.

13. giving the necromancy of thay tome to gale (dialogue option in player-initiated dialogue / gale asks for tome)

Gale: Much obliged. Narrator: you watch Gale perusing the book with a true wizard's fascination. A few pages in, something startles him.  Gale: A rough read indeed... I'll give it my undivided attention at a more appropriate time.

14. on ethel

Gale: You know, I think there's a little something more to Ethel than meets the eye. 'Hag' is the word they used.  If that's what she really is, she's beyond dangerous.  - Protag Option 1: If that's what she is, that means we killed two innocent men. Gale: But theit sister still lives. And I doubt Auntie has her over for tea and conversation. - Protag Option 2: Hags are powerful creatures. She might actually be able to help us with the parasite.  Gale: See Option 3 - Protag Option 3: She hinted at a reward. That's all I really care about. Gale: Beware of a hag bearing gifts. They're never gifts to begin with.

15. on ethel's deal

Gale: Netherese. A portentous word. Combine it with mind flayers, and it's... unspeakable. - Protag Option 1: What do you make of it all? Gale: What we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions. At the heart of it all, the problem is clear: we've been infected by a mind flayer parasite. So far, however, we've been spared the dread fate that is ceremorphosis. How have we been spared? It would seem the answer is that the parasite is somehow infused with Netherese magic – more powerful, more sinister than it has any right to be. The question remains, however: why? Infected, but unchanging. Blind cogs in an all-seeing machine. - Protag Option 2: If even a hag can't help us, who can? Gale: I... I actually don't know. All we can do is combine what we know and make our deductions- See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: It's all gibberish as far as I'm concerned. Gale: No, there's meaning to it. There has to be.  All we can do is combine- See Option 1 - Protag Option 4: None of this actually solves our problems. Gale: I know, but let's consider this: at the heart of it all, not only is our problem clear, but so is the motive of our enemy: power. All power has a nexus. Find it, and we may just find both the answers and the remedy we seek. - Protag Option 5: Get to the point if you have one. Gale: I was merely thinking out loud, but if you desire a point, consider this: See Option 4 - Protag Option 6: Enough talk. Let's go. Gale: Fine, but while we walk, consider this: See Option 4

16. after finishing mayrina's quest [link to gifset]

Gale: Hags really do redefine depravity, don't they? A promise kept in the cruellest of ways: a loved one returned, undead.  - Protag Option 1: This entire affair sickens me. I wish we'd had no part in it. Gale: We don't always choose the roles we play. All we can do is perform them to the best of our ability.  [Connor killed] At least the curtain's fallen on this tragedy. The lovers' tale is quite over.  [Connor alive] Can't say I'm very enthusiastic though, about the extra you just cast. - Protag Option 1: Hags thrive on corruption. It is simply their nature Gale: A nature that, as far as I'm concerned, deserves to go extinct.  [Connor killed] As extinct as the happiness Ethel cut out of Mayrina. [Connor alive] So does that abhorrent thing-once-man. For god's sake let his eternal sleep be free of this undead nightmare. - Protag Option 3: You have to admit Auntie Ethel knows how to have some fun. Gale: [disapproves] You can't possibly mean that.  [Connor killed] In any case, the man's dead for good. The spectacle has come to a close. Fun's over.  [Connor alive] Although, judging by the newest company you've decided to keep, you may just be depraved enough yourself to mean that after all.

17. the zhentarim chest / rugan

Gale: So you threatened your way into ownership of that chest. Now that it's yours, what will you do with it? - Protag Option 1: I say we hold on to it until we find the rightful owner. Gale: So that means you're not curious as to what's inside? Very well, suit yourself... - Protag Option 2: Let's seell it. We're bound to make a tidy profit.  Gale: See Option 1 - Protag Option 3: I will do what is meant to be done with a sealed chest: open it. Gale: Music to my curious ears!

18. the myconid colony in the underdark [link to gifset]

Gale: Spores that can raise the dead... These myconids certainly are fascinating creatures.  Protag Option 1: They make for good allies.  Gale: Agreed. And there are precious few of those in the Underdark. - Protag Option 2: They're more dangerous than I thought. We should be on our guard.  Gale: They will remain welcome hosts unless we turn hostile. Should be easy enough to avoid. - Protag Option 3: Sorry, but I don't share your fascination for fungi.  Gale: Nobody's perfect. 

19. defending astarion to gandrel the gur monster hunter [link to youtube video]

[Protag defends Astarion] Gale: How thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one's friend in the face of danger. Even if that friend is an egomaniacal vampire with moral longevity of a mayfly. - Protag Option 1: We did the right thing and that's all there is to it. Gale: It's charming that you think that. - Protag Option 2: Are you saying that you would have thrown Astarion to the wolves? Gale: Never. What harm did the wolves ever do? - Protag Option 3: I'll remember you skepticism if anyone ever comes looking for you. Gale: ?

20. handing astarion over to gandrel the gur monster hunter

[Protag hands Astarion over to Gandrel the Gur Monster Hunter] Gale: I had a friend who had a dog once. Beautiful animal, but it got mean in its old days. Gale: It would growl and bark at everyone. Even bit him at the end. Gale: Yet still it was the saddest of occasions when he took the dog away for good. - Protag Option 1: It was for the best, I'm sure. Gale: I'm not sure the dog would agree. Gale: Astarion wouldn't. I'm absolutely sure of that. - Protag Option 2: Parting is never easy. Gale: ? - Protag Option 3: Put the mongrel down, did he? Gale: ?

21. arka the tiefling (kanon's sister) kills sazza the goblin / protag stood by and watched it happen [link to gifset]

Gale: Arka's thirst for revenge has been sated... and the goblin welcomed death with open arms. All's well with the world one might argue. And yet there's something unsettling about witnessing an execution. - Protag Option 1: I take no pleasure in it, but justice has been done. Gale: No one will mourn this goblin I suppose. Let's leave it at that. - Protag Option 2: Somehow that sounds a condemnation. Gale: I condemn nothing - but a question can be a mirror: Gale: If it's guilt you see reflected, the condemnation is your own. - Protag Option 3: I have no patience for the squeamish. Gale: You imply a weakness. I say a critical mind is one of our greatest strengths.

22. letting sazza the goblin escape

Gale: I know I said it's not inconceivable a goblin priestess could help us. And yet... was it really wise to set another goblin free so she can arrange introductions? - Protag Option 1: Passing up the promise of a healer would be far more unwise. Gale: A perfectly reasonable train of thoughts. But what if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 2: What's done is done. Doubt doesn't help us.  Gale: I'm not quite done yet. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? - Protag Option 3: Keep your misgivings to yourself. Gale: But consider the consequences. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? -> Protag Option 1: I'll make sure that doesn't happen Gale: I'm not sure you can. - Protag Option 2: Getting rid of the tadpole comes first. Otherwise we might be the monsters that destroy this place. Gale: Harsh. But fair. If not given too much further thought. - Protag Option 3: I don't care, I owe this grove no allegiance. Gale: No allegiance, no. Though we don't need to sign its death warrant.

23. finding out about priestess gut from sazza

Gale: Booyahg – the goblin word for magic. Primitive to a fault, but not entirely without merit. To seek some goblin priestess' help would be unconventional to say the least. Then again, I'm not one to advocate conventionality.  - Protag Option 2: A goblin healer sounds absurd to me. Gale: I wouldn't dismiss the idea out of hand. Goblins come from a warrior culture: to heal wounds is a highly prized skill. - Protag Option 1: I don't care if a cure comes from a goblin, an ogre, or an orc: as long as it works, I'm happy.  Gale: My sentiments exactly.  - Gale: If this priestess is indeed a master in the arts of booyahg, it's not inconceivable she could be of help to us. And if she isn't, we might find items of interest among her shamanic paraphernalia. If her tribe doesn't kill us on sight, that is.

thank you for reading! please consider liking and reblogging this post to support my work. thank you.

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed -part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene -> completed -part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony -> completed with this post -part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream, @toboldlydammitjim, @mishtress, @vcxahlia, @fitzmagus,

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, or added, please let me know!

[astarionsilverbough]

Astarion is the tenderest lover Halsin has ever had.

Though no one (excluding Gale, who is, for all intents and purposes, Astarion’s best friend - though the mere utterance of such a phrase would have the vampire recoiling in disgust) would believe it, it’s true.

And the thing is - it’s not just in bed, either; as touch-averse as Astarion is (exceptions outside Halsin being Gale and Karlach), he’s incredibly tactile with Halsin. His favorite thing to do is cup the big elf’s chin and gently tug at him until he’s being kissed or to jostle him as he does with Scratch, crooning praise as he does. He tends to steer Halsin with a possessive hand hooked around the bigger elf’s elbow, razor-sharp gaze flicking about for signs of danger as they traverse their perilous path.

And as flippant and unfeeling as Astarion pretends to be, he’s… attentive. Halsin can’t hide anything from him, and as a man so used to being the one in charge, the one tending to everyone else… it’s a little jarring at first. He fights his battles alone, suffers in silence so his people remain unburdened. It is how it has to be.

How it has always been.

But Astarion always knows. The moon-kissed elf can smell the pain and angst on Halsin like a wolf scenting blood. Once, Halsin had been silent for a little too long while Astarion ranted at him about some petty argument he and Gale had had days before (one long resolved) and before Halsin could even notice that Astarion had gone quiet, the elf was standing before him and taking the damp laundry out of his hands before placing his own on either side of Halsin’s face. His thumbs sweep first over Halsin’s cheekbones, then his lips, and the heat of his body yanks Halsin out of his frigid cloud of burgeoning despair almost instantly.

“What’s this now? Why are we pouting?” Astarion hums in that sonorous, lyrical voice - the voice that soothes the thousand violent storms raging within Halsin’s great chest, “shall we run away for a while, darling? Hm? We can find a nice little nook to tuck ourselves away in - you can get all furry and primal and I’ll just bury myself up against that gorgeous belly of yours and we can play - house. Forest house. Den?”

And it’s -

“I love you,” Halsin says. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but like every time he has before, Astarion’s entire demeanor changes as soon as he registers it.

Halsin watches the welcome shift with raw need writhing in his gut - Astarion’s shoulders relax entirely, freed from the weight of his iron walls; his eyes soften and gleam with a devotion Halsin isn’t sure he deserves, and his plush lips part as the corners of his mouth curve upward in a gentle, private smile.

When that lean body presses against his own, the entire world fades. Halsin slides his hands over the vampire’s waist and part of him thinks that he was created by Silvanus just to hold the man in his arms.

“Escape with me,” Astarion groans gently against Halsin’s jaw. He commands every element Halsin is comprised of - he is the commander of the soul that aches in the cage of his bones.

“Escape with me,” the vampire purrs, soft lips ghosting against Halsin’s own, “get lost with me. Let’s pretend we’re the only ones who matter, like this world was made for only us.”

And when it comes to Astarion, no amount of selfishness could be a sin. So he lets Astarion whisk him away, lets the vampire sink his fangs in and make him forget that the rest of the world is demanding their continued sacrifice.

Astarion is the most brutally tender lover Halsin has ever had - because Astarion reminds him how to live.

[semisolidmind]

Uh oh someone is beginning to have a lil crush on peaches 👀 _ at least that what I think is happening could be wrong _ ، hope for there sake the monkeys does know but if they did how would they react to the?

(you're not wrong :) and i had a thought about a scenario where this crush becomes noticeable)

perhaps there's a sparring session at flower fruit mountain for all the demon royals in wukong's little circle (excluding reader, for obvious reasons). a normal occurrence; the monkey king needs to be sure of his allies' strength. so, wukong challenges each of his demon generals (and occasionally their guests) to a friendly spar. macaque watches from the shadows, rolling his eyes at his brother's need to prove himself superior.

the current opponent is princess iron fan, and she's throwing deadly gales all over the sizable training area in an attempt to hit her foe. the wind brushes the spectators; reader watches from the sidelines, alongside azure and a few other demon sovereigns. seeing as the lion demon was the only reliably friendly face in the crowd, reader sits next to him while her husband shows off his strength in battle.

they converse quietly. reader enjoys how cordial azure is in comparison to most other demon lords. he talks with her, not at her. he's never mistaken her for a servant and loudly demanded anything of her. he's always friendly, with both her and the civilians of flower fruit mountain. reader has come to see his presence as one of the only highlights of wukong's many war council meetings. unbeknownst to reader...azure feels the same about her, though in a much less platonic way.

as the two continue to chat, the last gale goes off course when princess iron fan is thrown to the gound, defeated. it hits the onlookers like a solid wall and many of the demons, not prepared for the full force of the oncoming wind, are blown backwards. azure and reader are among them, and, in an attempt to save reader from being blown away, azure grabs her and pulls her to his chest.

the two are thrown through the air. they hit the ground some feet away, skidding to a stop beneath a cospe of trees. azure, on his back and slightly dazed, holds reader close, arms around her and her head pressed to his sternum by one huge paw. once the demon has overcome his momentary daze, he finds himself staring at the woman in his grasp. reader, still cowering from the wind, her hair tussled, eyes closed and teary from the dust, the sunlight dappled across her face...

...azure only barely manages to stop the rumbling purr fighting its way out of his chest. she's so small, so soft pressed up against him. he can feel his face warming under his fur at their proximity.

once reader has realized where she is (atop her dear friend, practically straddling him, oh gods she hopes for both their sakes that wukong and macaque aren't looking), she apologizes profusely, hastily removing herself from his person and (laughably, because he's twice her size) attempts to help him up. he holds onto her proffered hand a bit longer than necessary (it's so small, his hand entirely encompasses hers) as she asks if he's alright. still a bit stunned, he breathlessly laughs. he should be asking her that, he breathes. she smiles at him in return.

the moment ends when macaque rushes up to them, quickly pulling reader from azure's grip to check her for injuries and fuss over her. the six-eared demon leads his wife away towards the water curtain cave, holding her hand and continuing to press her about any supposed harm. while reader waves away his concerns, azure catches the stormy look the dark-furred monkey throws back in his direction.

the lion demon feels a chill down his spine when the monkey king's voice rings out across the field—somehow both friendly terrifying— and asks him to spar next.

[avonne-writes]

55 on the prompt list omg!!! mutual pining/oblivious hs au buck x bucky would be so funny (and sweet and fluffy)

Thank you for the prompt! Indeed, it’s perfect for my High School AU 🥰 This is set in 9th grade before they start dating, so Bucky is 15 and Gale is 14. The earliest installment of the series so far!

Uploaded on AO3

55. Mutual Pining (+ Oblivious)

Gale has been standing in the Brady family's kitchen for at least fifteen minutes now, stuck in a conversation with one of Brady’s sisters. He doesn’t know how to excuse himself politely, and she's good at rolling the discussion forward practically by herself. He wonders why she doesn’t just ignore him like she did the other boys Brady invited. Does she have a crush on him? But she's two years older!

His friends are all in the basement, playing video games, but Gale offered Brady's mom a helping hand with distributing the snacks. He followed her to the kitchen, but he never made it back to the others, because Lena just latched onto him. She asked him about his hair and things got out of Gale's control. So here he is, clutching a blue plastic bowl filled with chips, standing awkwardly in the open space between the kitchen island and the counter. Leaning on the island, Lena blocks his way out.

Gale's mind can’t help but worry that he’s gonna miss out on something. It’s a miracle that he was even invited. Having an actual friend group instead of individual friends is a new experience for him. And most of these boys are on the soccer team. They're much more social than he is. He’s pretty sure Brady only invited him because Bucky asked him to sit with them at lunch and he overheard them talking about this.

Bucky...

Gale sighs, a painful sensation twisting in his chest. Will he have any more opportunities to be close to Bucky today? He curses himself for his eagerness to make a good impression on Brady’s mom, because if he hadn't done that, he would be with Bucky now, and he wouldn’t have lost a single moment together. What if Bucky gets too into the game they're playing and won't talk to him any more tonight? What if Gale is pushed to the side of the group, excluded from it all? Forgotten?

If only he could tell Lena that he doesn’t like girls, he could be free. Or maybe not? Maybe she just wants to make friends. Why would she even like Gale, when he's so - so doll-like. Almost like a girl, except he’s thin, tall and flat, and his voice keeps getting deeper. But his lips look like a kiss emoji. He especially hates how pale his cheeks are, because he knows just how bright pink they blush when he's embarrassed or excited. Lately, his cheeks are on fire all the time.

The reason why is loud, chatty, and so attractive that Gale feels a tingling sensation in his stomach every time he sees him.

Thinking about him is enough to make heat rise to Gale's face already. Him, him, him. His bright smile, his dark blue eyes, his curls, his silly jokes and the games he plays with Gale in secret when they share a desk in school. The way he always chooses Gale first to be on his team in P.E., and how he claps Gale on the back or fistbumps him when they score. Once, he even gave Gale a hug after a particularly nice basketball play. It was one of the best days of Gale's life so far.

Gale can feel this... this fire growing inside of him. It has never been this intense before, never so desperate that he couldn’t feel hunger, thirst or tiredness when he thought about it. But that’s how it is nowadays. Is this what love is? He thinks about it every day, every hour. I'm in love, goes his mind, and each time, it feels different, sweet and bitter and unbearable. One minute, he never wants it to end, then the next, he wishes he could tear it right out of his chest.

How does no one else see it on his face?

"You’re not like Johnny's other friends." Lena tells him in a sweet voice, drawing his attention back to the present. He has no idea what she said in the past few minutes. "You’re much nicer. Smarter too."

Gale hugs the bowl to his stomach, pulls his shoulders up and gives her an embarrassed smile. "Thanks."

"Actually, do you wanna -"

Gale never learns what she was going to suggest, because a cheerful voice interrupts her question.

"Buck! Are they holding you hostage?" Bucky calls out from the top of the stairs leading to the basement, based on the echo.

"I'm here!" Gale yells, and promptly wants to bury himself under a pile of sand. I'm here? That wasn’t even an answer to Bucky's playful question, it made no sense at all. Oh God, what does Bucky think of him now? He must think that Gale’s a weirdo, socially awkward charity case, but Gale’s not like that at all, he’s usually calm and funny. He just wants to be liked so much that he loses all common sense, apparently.

Before he could beat himself up over it, footsteps approach, and Bucky walks into the kitchen. Gale's face brightens automatically. He smiles, and Bucky smiles back before he directs his eyes at Lena.

"Hey, Lenny, how's it going?" He says, flicking her long hair as he walks past her. Tar coils in Gale's throat at the sight, but he swallows it down.

She blushes, but doesn’t look pleased to see Bucky. "We're kind of busy, Bucky."

"Oh, busy?" Bucky teases, glancing between them and smirking. Gale widens his eyes in an expression that's meant to convey a heartfelt hell no.

"You’re so childish." Lena huffs, but Bucky doesn’t look at her again.

He stops next to Gale with a hand on the kitchen counter, and uses the back of the other to swat Gale's arm. "Hear that, Buck, I’m childish."

Gale's blood turns into an electric current in his veins. He stares into Bucky’s eyes, mesmerized by the playfulness shining in their blue depths. "Where's the lie?"

Bucky grins at him for a long moment, then reaches into the bowl Gale's holding, grabs a few chips and pops them in his mouth. It takes Gale a second too long to realize that he shouldn't watch him so intensely, so revealingly. He casts his gaze down before he looks back up, unable to keep his eyes off Bucky. He’s sure he's super obvious. Still, he can’t help but lean a bit closer until his elbow brushes Bucky's arm, as if by accident.

God, he has no idea how he gets away with it without Bucky flinching away from him. After all, he’s aware of Bucky's reputation as someone who has a new girlfriend every week. Rumours are, that's what he did last year in his previous school and what he plans on continuing this year. It's only October, so he’s still single, but Gale’s sure it won't be for too long.

A sad voice in him wonders if he'll stop trying to befriend Gale when that happens. He won't have space in his life for new friends when dating takes up all his time. Perhaps that will be for the better. Gale's hopeless crush on his clearly heterosexual best friend could die then. It will be harder to say goodbye to the best friend part. He has never really met anyone else he felt so attuned to. No one has matched his puzzle piece like Bucky does. They're on the same wavelength.

He hears a huff from Lena. "Okay. Whatever. See you later, Gale."

"See you!" Gale says in a haste, feeling guilty as she walks away. But it only lasts for a split second, because next thing he knows, Bucky's ruffling his hair.

"Way to go, Buck." He teases.

Gale bats Bucky's hand away because he loves its touch so much he can’t stand it, but Bucky just pushes Gale's hand back and they end up hand-wrestling for a moment before Gale drops his arm.

"Do you think she likes me?" He shudders.

Bucky makes a jokingly spluttering sound. "She likes all pretty blonds."

Flames light up on Gale’s cheeks. He can feel the heat rolling off his skin, mixing with Bucky's warmth because they're the same height and they're standing so close. Pretty... Bucky thinks he's pretty.

"But the question is, do you like her?" Bucky asks, and his voice sounds off. Clearly wanting her all to himself, which is fair enough, she's beautiful. It must be painful to pine for her when she doesn’t feel the same. Gale knows exactly how that feels, ever since his first day of this school year when he got seated next to the most fun person in their entire year.

"I don't." He replies. But I like you. I like you. I really, really -

"I think you dodged a bullet there." Bucky snorts, and something eases in him, makes him relax until he’s like water, loose in his body, confident and at ease while he’s with Gale. He throws an arm around Gale's shoulders and fishes his phone out of his pocket. His scent fills Gale's nose. "That reminds of this TikTok..."

As they lean over the small screen, their heads bend closer together, almost touching. If Gale was brave enough, if he thought he had even a morsel of a chance, he could turn a few degrees and kiss Bucky. His lips would be salty from the chips, he figures. Would there be a trace of soda sweetness there or only the salt?

He swallows, barely seeing the video, but he laughs along with Bucky. They fall silent, except for the occasional chuckle, as one clip plays after the other. Standing there alone at the kitchen counter, close enough in their loose half-embrace that Gale could convince himself for a moment that Bucky is his.

Oh, what a sweet daydream.

A text pops up on Bucky’s phone. It’s from someone named "Luis Vutton", misspelled like that.

'your round goes to Buck if youre not here in -5 minutes'

"Asshole." Bucky snickers and texts back a middle finger emoji. To Gale's disappointment, he pulls his arm back and takes a step away. "We're doing a FIFA tournament. I got you first, then Brady. Looks like he can’t wait to get his ass kicked by me."

Gale gives him a lopsided smile as he falls into step with him, walking back to the stairs. "What about you, ready to lose on your first game?"

Bucky grins at him. "Quite the confidence for someone who knows nothing about soccer."

"Shut up, I know plenty." Gale bumps into Bucky. It’s true - since Bucky befriended him, Gale has watched so many soccer games and read so many articles that he feels like he knows more than enough.

"Nerd." Bucky bumps him back. His comment doesn’t make much sense, but Gale's stomach flips all the same. "You're still up against the defending champion though."

"That so?"

Bucky hums as he starts descending the stairs. "I'm a natural. Got the hands for it."

He stops two steps down from Gale and turns to hold one of his palms up. Gale doesn’t even think about it, although he should have because he’s being weird, but he presses his own palm to Bucky's. His hand isn’t small at all, but the tips of his fingers only reach the last knuckle of Bucky's.

Bucky gives him a smile that's so amused and giddy that his eyes become half-moons. "See?"

"You comin', or what?" Brady’s voice calls, and they both drop their hands.

Bucky gives Gale a wink, then bounds down the stairs. Gale needs a deep breath before he’s ready to follow him.

If only daydreams came true!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not getting along with one of my coworkers?

So I (16M) work with a few others (16F, 17F, 37F, 51M) in crisis management and, for the most part, I get along with my coworkers as much as I have to. They're decent enough people, and while I don't intend to be working this job forever, it's good experience for the field I intend to be going into in the future, I'm good at the job, and I don't have to deal with a lot of people aside from my coworkers which is honestly an ideal for myself.

There is, however, this one guy (17M) who just… he's infuriating, for lack of a better description. He seems to get everything just handed to him, because the boss (49M, 16F is his daughter) thinks he's the best at everything and he does too. He is not the best at everything, and he hasn't been working anywhere near as hard as I have for this… basically, my entire life. And yet he's the one who everyone likes, he's the one who is likely to get a promotion the next time there is one available…

I just don't get it! I used to be able to commiserate with 16F about this, given how often she was shadowed by 17M, but lately even she's started to like him, and says that I'm being unfair to him. That I should try talking to him, when he just… he's weirdly quiet. I honestly don't know if he talks to anyone except when he has to, but he definitely doesn't talk to me. Why would he, when he thinks he's so much better than me?

Still, 16F is a good friend, and upon asking around to the rest of our mutual coworkers (49M excluded; I don't particularly like him for a number of reasons including his treatment of his own daughter, but that's a matter for a separate AITA post) I discovered that everyone else was on 17M's side instead of mine. Yet again.

Just today, I did try to talk to him. I showed him one of the most impressive things I could do and didn't even get a reaction. So I snapped. Yelled at him quite a bit, and then left to cool off.

Am I being the asshole? I'd be willing to dismiss this if it was just one or two of my coworkers who really liked 17M, but for it to be literally everyone… I'm starting to think I might be the problem. Advice on how to fix it would, honestly, be much appreciated—I'll be the first to admit I'm not much of a people person, and I doubt sarcastically wishing him luck sealing the darkness helped matters.

What are these acronyms?

[percy-puppy]

Pairing: Obsessed!Stalker!Ghostface x Reader

Summary: Nobody asked him to, yet Ghostface becomes the God of revenge for you, bringing down everyone who has ever wronged you.

CW: 18+ Content | MDNI | Murder, Gore, Fake Friends, Cheating, Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Knifeplay, Male Masturbation, Reader gets called girl (1) time.

A/N: @mothymunson proofread as always & was the one I just spammed with the idea out of the blue, so… thanks, bestie! 💘

Your friends are getting killed one by one.

It starts with your boyfriend—Leading to you finding out he had an affair with your best friend the whole time.

Your other so-called friends? The whole group knew. “It just wasn't our thing to tell, you know…?” - “What can you do? They just fell in love.” The worst thing? You didn't expect your friends to react any differently.

They always were some fucked up blend of bullying snakes mixed with confidantes, but you kept them close as they are all the friendship you know.

Even if your boyfriend is dead, the betrayal sits deep inside your bones. There is no justice in any of this. Especially with your best friend now getting all the attention as she is “broken-hearted” about losing “her” man.

You're so upset and all alone. Where are your friends? Why aren't they consoling you?

Ghostface.

He sees it all. Has seen it for a while.

He saw your best friend with your boyfriend on his way home… well, to your home.

He heard your friends all laugh behind your back, mock you, talk shit, and make plans that actively excluded you.

He just wants you happy. You deserve it, but your friends are like an infection you don't know how to get rid of and go no contact.

So he does what he can do best.

He removes the diseased meat before it can spread.

Piece by piece.

One by one.

They need to suffer for all the times they made you cry, for all the times they made you think you're unlovable.

And you deserve some peace of mind to close the chapter of this rotten relationship you had—So it starts with a heart in a box at your doorstep.

It's in the cutest box, wrapped like a present. It's your boyfriend’s.

He promised it to you, after all. And since he didn't keep his promises, Ghostface ensures you at least get what you’re owed.

Then they find your best friend with her hands cut off and stuffed down her throat.

She's choking on the fact that she touched what was yours. Somebody say again that Ghostface doesn't have an excellent sense of humor.

But since you're his special girl, he doesn't even stop there. He takes care of you and all those pesky little problems in your life.

And it's brutal.

Bloody.

None of them had a quick death, and fairly, they deserve it.

That college teacher who had it out for you ever since you reported him for his inappropriate comments?

“Somebody” tied him to the back of his car and went on a little road trip with him hauled after.

Shame.

What a shame.

You hate to admit it, but you're glad they're gone. Yes, you're scared you're next cause you don't know that Ghostface does it all for you, but for the first time, you feel free.

If the killer keeps going like this, soon nothing and no one is left from your old life. Maybe, if you make it out alive, you can actually start a new life somewhere new.

And all the while you're going through a moral crisis and worry for your safety, Ghostface has the time of his life.

Killing was never more fulfilling.

He is technically changing the world.

Your world.

Making your life better and easier.

Your fights are his now. Your grudges are his.

Even if you buried the hatchet, he digs it back up.

Funnily enough? When police question you… When Gale Weathers pops up and starts snooping and asking if you know something, anything, you conveniently forget to mention how, weeks ago, all of your old diaries vanished from the attic.

You also forget about the late-night calls with the freak on the other side, breathing heavily, slick sounds hinting at him jerking off as he love-bombs you.

You think you lost the fear of Ghostface. He is like a phantom out to watch over you—Almost like a guardian angel.

Maybe he will turn up at your house at some point. Perhaps he will bring the knife and hold it to your throat while he does all the dirty things he promises you over the phone.

Speaking of… it rings again.

“Hello, little bunny. What's your favorite scary movie?”

[swifty-fox]

After our recent discussion, I wonder, what are Kfak John and Gale’s turn-ons and turn-offs? (And excluding Gale’s issues with oral sex)

Ohhh this is such a good question. I always find it difficult thinking about characters kinks when they're so developed as they are in kfak. it's like they almost become more vanilla the more of the rest of their personalities I explore.

John:

I think John enjoys body worship. He loves just taking his time to lay Gale down and lick and kiss all over his body. Nip at his ribs and kiss over his knees and around the curve of his neck. Just will take so long exploring every inch of Gale's skin.

We can see he enjoys a hand around his neck. I think it would extend to choking as well, currently he really has only been restrained with a hand around his neck and it drove him Wild

Dirty talk. Any of my John's will be dirty talkers. It's just the law of the universe.

(sorry) Comeplay. Just getting all messy and sharing it between them. Likes knowing something from his body is inside gale, especially swallowed by him. Like communion, dirty little Irish boy that he is.

Gale:

Biting. I think mostly biting John but being bitten as well. He likes the permanence of it, likes that line of aggression of the bite but stopping before real pain, and the slow ease off into tenderness. Poor John can't go swimming in public sometimes.

Sweat is big for him. he likes the look the smell the taste of it. John working around the farm is gonna be a Real Issue for him because that man strips his shirt off the moment he gets and Gale is So Normal about it. Lots of tongue baths

He likes hair pulling. Tugging on John's chesthair to pull him into a kiss or just ti flirt, tugging on his curls while they kiss or fuck. Having his own hair twisted around John's fingers feeling restrained like a dog on a leash.

[prophetszendo]

Shift in Vampirism

Summary: after looting an abandoned manor, you find a strange scroll, which can change everything for you and Astarion.

Pairing: astarion/you (no pronouns or y/n used, can be any of you)

Word count: 4.7k

Warning: blood, and more blood, and a bit of pain. Also english is not my first language, yet this is my first ever english fanfic I've written. Feel free to point out mistakes or spelling errors or sentences that just sound weird <3

Also, about the dialogs: the software I used to tyoe this out automatically turns the first " into the downward version of it: „. It is because it uses my native language, and here this is how we write them. I didn't figure out how to turn it off and by the time I finisned the fic, manually doing it would have taken me a long time.

This fic is based on a dream I had a few weeks ago. Enjoy!

You sat on your bed as you were sorting through what you looted today. You found an empty village which had an abandoned manor, and you and your teammates didn’t waste any time searching for valuables, food and alcohol. You also picked up some miscalleneous items, of which you weren’t sure what they exactly were.

You rummaged through your bag once more, because you recalled picking up a ring too, and it was not on your bed yet. Technically its wasn’t your bed, but it was the one in the room you decided to spend the night in. All of you got to stay in a rather luxurious room, even if it seemed like noone had been here for some time. Honestly, who cares about some dust and spiderwebs, when you spent the last weeks sleeping on rocks and branches?

Your hand caught onto the ring, and you took a closer look. It was pretty, that’s for sure, but if there was more to it, like magical properties, you weren’t able to deduce.

"I will have to ask Gale about this” you murmured to yourself. It was a pretty dark red colour, which reminded you of a certain pair of red eyes. You wondered whether his room was comfortable too. Knowing him, he was hoarding the best loot he found, not necessarily willing to share with the group. You sighed, put the ring down, and started looking through the possible junk pile that was on your bed.

After seperating the edible and not so edible foods, you were left with a bunch of papers, some more jewellery and some actually useful items, such as torches and a rope, that was hopefully not too decayed.

While you really wanted to just throw away the seemingly useless papers, you knew there might be some useful information for you. Maybe about the manor, or what happened to this place, or about the tadpoles. You knew there was only a slight chance for that, but you were grabbing onto every possibility.

Letter, letter, recepie for some food, another letter, oh, a juicy letter about someone cheating... Overall not so interesting. You were starting to get disappointed, when a title caught your eye: Shift in Vampirism. Curiously, you picked it up, and nervously ran your eyes over it. You have heard about a spell with the same name, but it was very rare, only a few people knew how to cast it. But against all odds, what you were holding in your hand was a scroll of that spell. Your stomach started sinking, as you clearly read the spell, where you can take over someones vampirisim, changing it for your normal, average traits.

You and Astarion had an interesting relationship. He flirted with you nonstop (but he kinda was doing that with everyone, so you tried to not take it too seriously), he drank from you when he got hungry, but was still so cold towards you, in a sense. Not that he excluded you, or was mean to you, but you felt like there was this invisible barrier he put up around him, and no matter how hard you tried, you were always shut out.

And you tried. A lot.

You would never share this with anyone, but you fell for Astarion basically as soon as you laid eyes on him. It was such a suprise, even to you, that you nearly let yourself be killed by him. Fortunately, soon it turned out you were in the same boat. And since then, you were trying to get to know him a bit more. You never did anything that could be understood as more than friendship – well, maybe apart from the flirting back, but that seemed to be a fun little game you two play – because you weren’t sure how he would take it. Worst case scenario, he would believe you also just want to use him for your own desires, and then he would push you away completely. You simply cared for him too much for this to happen.

But maybe with this spell, he would be more free. The pressure from his shoulders would lift a little bit, and he would be able to enjoy life more.

Your hands were shaking. You still needed some ingredients for the spell to work, this magic simply couldn’t fully be captured in just a scroll.

„Of course this spell needs candles” you sighed, then chuckled a little. As you got off your bed to collect said candles, you stopped for a second. Were you really doing this? Offering to take Astarions burden without a second thought? Wow, you must be charmed by him even more than you believed.

Your room had only one suitable candle, the others were mostly all used up, so you decides to look around once more, hoping that the the others didn’t cause such a big mess, that you wouldn’t be able to find a few more candles.

You were able to find just enough. You were also glad you didn’t bump into anyone during your adventure, and you didnt have to come up with a lie on why are you running around with an armful of candles.

You didn’t want to share the truth, because you were certain, the others would advise against it, maybe even actively try to stop you. They didn’t have the best opinion on vampires, and they were barely used to Astarion being one, and they always kept an eye on him, as if he would bite through their throats, given the right time. While he did joke about it, you knew he was secretly glad, he had some nice (or as he would say: „bearable”) company on this hard road to Baldur’s Gate.

But you couldn’t care whether the others will now eye you similarly or not. If it meant that Astarion would be free of his hunger, you gladly took all his spawn traits.

You dumped the candles on your bed, picked up the scroll and gathered the courage to show it to Astarion.

His room was a bit further away, but when you spotted the door, you were sure he choose that one. It was the most detailed out of the ones you saw while looting. „It must’ve been the master bedroom” you thought to yourself as you raised you hand to knock on the door. You still hesitated. The weight of what you held in your hand was starting to dawn on you.

„Come in, dont’t be shy” you heard his voice from the inside, before you could actually knock.

When you opened the door, you were greeted a room that was bigger than your home back in Baldur’s Gate. Astarion was standing in front of the fireplace, looking at the painting above it.

„You know them?” you asked, trying to sound casual. He was beautiful, no matter what he did. As if he was radiating some magic, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. His hair looked silver in this light, and his eyes were focused on the family that was painted.

„Of course not! But looking at a painting is a better passtime, than doing nothing, or getting dirty in this dusty place.” he said, as he shifted his gaze to you. As your eyes locked, a shiver was sent down your spine, and for a split second, you forgot why you were there in the first place.

But you quickly collected yourself and witgout saying a word, you raised your hand towards him and offered him the scroll.

„What is this dear? Some juicy letters between the past owner and some lover?” he asked excitiedly. But you remained silent and just looked at him. You weren’t sure how you woukd even describe it. As he saw your seriousness, he went quiet too, and took the scroll.

„Just read it” you said, as he turned it around in his hand, seemingly unsure what to look for.

His brows furrowed as his eyes were going faster and faster over the lines. His concerned face made you worried.

„Is this a joke? I never thought you to be this cruel with me” he said to you, looking up from the paper. „If there actually was a spell like this, I would’ve heard about it, at least rumors.”

„It is a rare spell, I believed it was a legend, because a friend of a friend once saw it in action a long time ago. But this is a real thing.” you reassured him. His eyes lit up, as he took another look onto the scroll. You saw a glimpe of hope, but it was quickly replaced by something you weren’t sure about.

And then he started laughing.

„This is still cruel. This spell clearly exists to give false hope to people like me! Because who would even be so crazy to wish this up on themselves?” he asked and he held the scroll with two hands, with the intent of tearing the scroll with you.

„I would” you said firmly, trying to look into his eyes, looking for that little hope again.

He raised his gaze, and held eyecontact with you.

„Why?” he asked silently. You saw that he was truly confused. „Why would you want to go through these horrible stuff? Are you mad?”

„I’m not mad. I just want to...” but you couldn’t finish your sentence, because Astarion interrupted you.

„A favour? My life? You want to be able to hold control over me by taking over this burden I carry? Well thank you but no thank you! I would rather stay how I am if it means I am free from any puppet lines that make me do anything the puppeteer wants to!” he raised his voice.

„Astarion, I promise, I don’t...”

„You don’t want to control me? Of course, everyone would say that. But you? I thought you to be kinder than this. Especially after all those adventures, and everything I’ve ever told you about Cazador and my life in Baldur’s Gate! I thought of all people, you would be the one who would not even think about these stuff! Or was being understanding also part of the act?” he yelled by the end of the sentence.

Tears gathered in your eyes. You rarely if ever saw him this angry, and it hurt you so much. The barrier between you has never been so thick, so impenetrable.

„Please Astarion, hear me out...” you said, but your voice cracked as you said his name. However, Astarion was way too in his head to hear, or even see you.

„And what would you even say? Please trust me? Noone would take over my vampirism willingly, for nothing in return. And i don’t want to be in anyones debt! Feeding from you, it is already on a thin line, but it is something we both seem to enjoy. But this? You wouldn’t enjoy this” and he would have kept saying more and more harmful stuff, if you didn’t interrupt him. Once more.

„ASTARION” you also raised your voice. „I would do it because I care for you! I would do ir because... Because...”

„Because?”

„Because I love you” you closed your eyes. You couldn’t bear seeing his reaction. He most likely didn’t love, or even like you back. You weren’t even sure why you said it now. You planned to take this secret to your grave.

„And I care for you” you continued, as if trying to still explain yourself. „And you suffer so much already, and being a vampire seemingly makes it worse. Day by day, you put on the act of being a carefree man, but I feel like you have so many thoughts, fears you never even admit to yourself. If I could ease this pain by taking away something that is holding you back the most, maybe... Maybe you could live a better life. Maybe you would be able to heal from what happened to you.”

Your eyes were still closed. You waited for his reaction, but he was silent. A few painfully long seconds passed and then you heard his footsteps. You were afraid, they were moving away.

But then you felt his hands on both sides of your face. His thumb was caressing your cheek. He wiped a tear away. You didn’t even realize, that you started crying.

„Darling. Open your eyes.”

You slowly peeled your eyelids open. At first, you were looking down, somewhere at his chest. You felt embarassed. Confessing love was not your strong suit, as you have never done this before. Of course you had crushes here and there, maybe even a fling or two, but this overwhelming urge to be with someone, like you feel with Astarion, this was raw, honest, and heavy.

Astarion put his right hand under your chin, lifting your head to properly face him.

His eyes were like rubies, as he deeply looked into yours. There was no mockery in them, yet you still felt like you have to explain more. You tugged on his tadpole, and invited him into your mind.

You started sharing memories.

The first time you saw him, and how forgot to breathe for a second. Then he started speaking, asking for help, only to hold a knife to your throat later. Yet held no grudges against him. You now knew how confused he must have felt, and how vulnerable.

The night he first drank for you. Especially how scared he looked when you woke up. You were not repulsed by vampires, they didn’t choose to be turned into a spawn. You offered your blood, wanting nothing in return. The way he seemed more relaxed, more vibrant, more... alive after feeding, was enough for you.

That one time you thought he would die. It was an unfortunate ambush on you and the team. Astarion, as usual, was lurking in the shadows, but a rouge spell hit him square in the chest, and if Shadowheart wasn’t that good of a healer, he might not be here right now. Your heart ached as you held his hand, hoping his beautiful eyes would open once more. You screamed and cried your eyes out, trying to wake him up. And when he did, you gave him the first real hug that ever happened between you.

You looked away. These were some of your most sacred memories. You felt vulnerable.

„I... You don’t have to like me back. Just seeing you happy and free makes my life fuller. This is why i want to take your burden” you said quietly to him.

There was a second of silence again. They started to feel like you were cut with a knife. Painful anticipation.

„I don’t have to like you back?” Astarion said in a low voice, then chuckles a little. „It might be too late for that...”

You felt a familiar tug on your tadpole, as he was inviting you into his mind. You obliged.

You saw yourself through his eyes. He was taken aback by your presence. The kindess, with which you looked at him made him uneasy. He feared you would betray him the first chance you had. So he went ahead, and held a knife to your throat. And you still forgave him.

This is why he decided to drink from you. Maybe you wouldn’t be as mad as the others. And then you looked at him, and still wasn’t angry, and offered a drink. He felt something that could best be described as butterflies in his stomach. If his heart was beating, it wouldve bursted out fo his chest, he was sure.

And when he was hit by the spell, the only reason he held on was because he heard you. Felt your hand on his.

„This is why I can’t let you take this over” he again, turned your face towards his. „Because, I too, care about you deeply. And you don’t deserve to go though any of this. Especially what happens after we remove the tadpoles.”

„You suffered from it for two-hundred years. You deserve to rest now. And if you’re so adamant, you can search for one of those mages, who can perform this spell. Then you can take it back, if you want to” you said, now with a stronger voice. You knew just how rare the spell was, and doubted he would ever find anyone able to cast it. You were content with this.

„You would really do this... For me?” he asked gently, still unsure.

You nodded, allowing yourself to have a little smile too.

Then you felt his lips on yours. It took you by suprise. You didn’t even have to process that the feelings were mutual, and now he was kissing you.

After the initial suprise, you didn’t hesitate to kiss back. His lips were suprisingly soft and warm, and you wanted this moment to never end. You opened your mouth, allowing him to kiss you deeper. Astarion immediately understood your desire, and made his way towards your tongue. You felt his sharp fangs on your lips, but they felt exciting, if anything. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hugging him closer than you ever did.

„Gods, how long I wanted to do this” he said, as he pulled back a little. You were lost for words. You still felt his mouth on yours, and you yearned for more.

But there was something more important that needed to happen, before you could properly explore your feelings towards eachother.

You slowly unwrapped yourself from him and picked up the scroll, which made its way on the floor sometime before.

„So, do you want to do this?” you asked, still short of breath. You handed him the scroll one more time. He took it, a briefly went over it.

„I can’t believe im saying this” he shook his head. „But yes. Let’s do this. And after it, I will track down all the scrolls and mages.”

As the sentences left his mouth, he already seemed to feel the pressure lifting. His shoulders seemed less tense and his forehead turned smooth.

You smiled at him shyly.

You went back to your room to collect the ingredients you needed. Your pouch had all the small ones, and you scooped up the candles you collected before.

You were excitied like a kid, which came to you as a suprise. You expected yourself to be scared of the ritual, especially knowing the details of the spell. But all you saw with your mind’s eye is Astarion, laughing carefreely.

„And with this” you stepped into Astarions room „we can finally start the preparations.”

He looked at you, and took a few of the candles off of you. Well, like four of them.

You laughed at him playfully, and he shot you a „i fucking dare you” look, which suited him just perfectly.

You set up the candles how it was desdribec on the scroll.

„Now we just need to mix the remaining ingredients with my blood, and paint up the Shifting Circle” you read through the instructions. You picked up your dagger and a bowl, and started investigating your arm.

„Darling, let me” Astarion took your arm and dagger. „As a vampire, I will have a much easier time finding the right place.”

„For now.” you murmured.

„Pardon?” he looked at you, pulling away a little.

„You won’t be a vampire for much longer.”

He laughed.

„You’re right, darling.”

He made a small cut on your arm. It was barely noticable, if not for the blood that was dripping down into a designated bowl. After the needed amount, Astarion patched you up, and put a bandage on your arm. He has never been so caring with you before.

You mixed together the dry and wet ingredients, and used it to paint up the shifting circle. It had two smaller circles incorporated: one Astarion, the giver, and one for you, the reciever.

You stood there, admiring your work. It wasnt perfect, but it should do it. It will do it – you thought to yourself.

„Lastly, I would need some rats” you said, and started to look for them. You heard them before, hopefully they haven’t fled yet.

„Rats? Why?” asked Astarion suprised.

„I will need it, because after I change, I will crave blood and if that hunger is left untreated, I might go feral” you explained. You weren’t keen on rats, but they seemed like the best option.

„Oh that won’t do” said Astarion, shaking his head. He came over to you and grabbed your clean hand. „You’re making such a sacrifice for me, the least I can do is offer my blood in return.”

You gulped. The thought of you drinking from Astarion the same way he drank from you sounded very intimate. You had to admit, it was to your liking.

„Thank you” you nodded. You were very touched by his offer. After what he went through, he still offered himself for a future vampire.

You sat in your circle and Astarion sat in his. He put his hands on the line, touching the mixture, as the spell instructed. You already lit all the candles that were neatly next to the lines, all around you. You opened up the scroll, but before reading it out loud, you looked at Astarion one more time. He gave you an encouraging half smile.

„O ipwuli vji nehod vu tipf vji wenqosi vseovt vu ni simoiwoph jon gsun jot cysfip!”

With every word, you felt a strange buzzing in the room. Magic was happening, and it did so all around you. At first, nothing happened. You were starting to get discouraged, the thought of the scroll being a fake bubbled up in your mind.

But then, suddenly the candle lights grew downwards, and all touched the big circle. Fire spread towards you and Astarion too. It was fast, too fast for any of you to react, and in no time, it reached the small circles.

In that moment, your bones, your skin, your blood also turned into fire. Pain shot from everywhere. It started burning you up, or at least it felt like that. You started screaming, and fell on the floor. You grabbed onto your arms, trying to get rid of the feeling.

Just next second, Astarion cried out too, but you weren’t sure if it was because he also was in pain, or because he saw you in such agony. You just hoped that he would remember to not stop touching the now burning mixture, as it was the connection between him and you.

You couldn’t wonder further, and a striking pain hit your mouth, specifically your teeth. You quickly moved your hands to it, half expecting them to simply fall out. You felt your canine teeth grow long and sharp. Just like the ones Astarion has. Had.

Suddenly nausea took you over. The dinner which you happily had before checking your loot, quickly made its way out of your stomach, as it was no longer suitable you. You were trembling, you felt that with this, you had nothing left, that was human.

The burning pain started to lessen. Your skin felt cold, your bones felt light. Your head was spinning, as you gathered yourself into a sitting position.

And then the hunger hit. The most primal hunger you have ever felt. As if you have not eaten for weeks. Your hunger was strong, and you wanted, no, you needed to feed. To feed on blood.

A strong, appetizing scent hit you. Before you realized what it was, your body started moving on its own. You basically crawled towards Astarion, who seemingly also had his fair share of the ritual, because he was lying on the floor, quickly breathing.

You crawled over him, and without a second thought, you bit him, and started drinking his blood. It tasted heavenly, like ambrosia. After the first drop on your tongue, you lost yourself even more. You ate, fed, as if you had never actually eaten before. You drank as if you just walked trough the driest desert.

He squirmed under you. Instinctively, you tried holding him down. More, more, MORE! The hunger can never be saited, you felt that. But temporarily, you just need more of his blood. More of his delicious, rich, glorious blood. More of... Astarions blood.

As this thought went through your head, you froze in place. Your animalistic instincts evaporated, you were yourself again. You slowly pulled away from Astarions neck. You feared the worst, as you looked down on him. He was not fighting back, just laid there, head turned to the side , for you to have better acces to him.

His movements were only to help you, not to shake you off.

Tears formed in your eyes. You knew that after the transformation, you would need to feed. You wanted to gently ask Astarion to bite his wrist, letting him dictate how much of him he gave to you. You didn’t plan for you losing control as soon as you turned.

Astarion turned his head towards you. His formally scarlet eyes were now a silverish blue. They looked breathtaking.

„I’m...” you started saying, but your words drowned in sobs. Blood was still dripping from his wounds.

„Hey. Shhhh. I’m alive” Astarion slowly sat up, and he wrapped his arms around you.

It felt like years of supressed stress and held back emotions just flowed out of you, like a tap, that hasn’t been opened in years. You clinged on him, and cried harder than you ever did. Transforming really took a toll on you, emotionally and mentally. The last drop was Astarion holding you gently but tightly. An act you only dreamt about before. Something you only imagined, a longing that kept you going in the hardest times.

Now, it was real. And you were absolutely overwhelmed by everything.

He held you until you calmed down. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. His gestures were telling enough for you.

„Your heart is not beating anymore” said Astarion, with a sharp sadness in his voice. You put your hand on your chest. He was right, you also felt no beating. It was unusual.

You put your hands on his chest. Under your palm, his heart was going wild and alive. You looked at him in detail. His eyes were the most striking change, but you noticed other parts too, that just made him look more... Alive. His cheeks gained some blush, he was not pale as a ghost anymore. His face looked more relaxed, more playful and youthful. He looked stronger, like someone who can handle everything.

He looked more beautiful, than ever.

„And your heart is about to jump out of your chest” you said, smiling for the first time since the ritual. You felt your fangs emerge from behind your lips. You quickly hid it behind your hand, as if it was something to hide.

Astarion clearly thought otherwise, because he smiled back at you, and carefully moved your hands down.

„Don’t hide them darling. They are nothing to hide. You thought me this. And trust me, you’re still beautiful. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

His words caressed you. You allowed yourself to smile once more.

„Thank you” Astarion said with an honest voice. „I haven’t felt like this for... 200 years. And while I will search all corners of the world for the wizard, or any other cure, I can’t form the right words to properly say just how thankful I am for your actions. You’re the kindest soul anyone can ever meet. Most people would’ve stabbed me the first chance they had. Having someone like you by my side makes me feel... Safe. And I haven’t felt like thaf for a long time. And on top of that, we both seem to have fallen for eachother, which is just perfect. And I truly mean it.”

He looked into your eyes deeply before planting a sweet and hot kiss on your lips.

You stayed like that for a while.

Astarion, the not-so-pale elf, and you, the new vampire.

[vioartemis]

I’ll die with you (part 3)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Your rest was short, another attack soon occurs, deadlier than the first one. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 Warnings: blood, death of character, angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

“I swear I’m gonna need to bleach my eyes” you heard Sam say when you went downstairs with Tara, half an hour later

“Come on, we were fully clothed, you didn’t see anything” Tara rolled her eyes and sit at the table

“That’s not the point! Since when are you even doing that? You’re too young to-”

"I mean they're adults so..." Gale started

"Would you mind stop talking about our sex life?" you groaned, cheeks still red

"What do you want us to talk about?"

"I don't know, the weather, whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza..."

"Well that's an easy question" Sam declared, taking a slice of pizza and giving one to everyone

"I suppose we all agree they don't" you girlfriend said

"We do, indeed" Gale confirmed while you nodded

"Uh, no we don't"

A debate started, Sam against the three of you. It almost looked like a normal family dinner, a normal night. You nearly forgot you were the next target of a psycho killer. Until you all jumped when your phone rang.

Probably: Damian Walker.

You never realized you never gave him your phone number. Mindy or Chad probably did.

"It's okay, it's Damian"

"Y/n-" Tara tried to interrupt

But you already took your phone and walked away from the table, picking up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, how are you feeling tonight?"

"Tired and embarrassed, but other than that, pretty good"

"What...?"

"It's a long story" you sighed "Why do you call?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you were having fun..." the slight sound of an electronic device could be heard "while I was gutting your friends like fishes."

All color vanished from your face.

"W-what...?"

Tara stood up hearing your shaking voice, worried. Whoever called you, they hang up without answering.

"Hello?! Please don't hurt them!" you cried

"Baby wha-"

"He's gonna kill Mindy and Chad we have to go!"

“No no no. We go, you stay here”

“And get attacked again? No thank you” you protested, dialing 911

When you arrived at Mindy and Chad’s not even five minutes later, the door was slightly opened. You could hear fight noises coming from inside. There was still a chance to save them.

You opened the door and rushed inside, baseball bat in hand. The first thing you saw was Ghostface, standing over the twins.

He slowly turned his head to look at you and did his signature blade-cleaning, before running away.

You were tempted to chase after him, but your friends mattered more. When you came closer to them, your heart dropped. There was blood everywhere.

Chad’s shirt was torn apart due to multiple stab. Mindy had her back against a wall, blood coming from her stomach.

Your own wounds burned at the sight, tears coming to your eyes. You couldn’t move, paralyzed.

“Shit…” you heard Sam say next to Chad

You had no idea how much time passed, but at one point Mindy coughed, causing your head to jolt in her direction. She was regaining consciousness!

Be fire you could realize it you were kneeling next to her, applying pressure on her wound.

“You’re gonna be okay, we called an ambulance, they should-”

Suddenly Damian brushed into the room.

“Oh my god-”

“Where the fuck were you?”

“I- I went to the bathroom a-and someone knocked me out… I- I just woke up”

You looked him up and down. Blood was running down his face from his forehead. But he could have done it himself.

“Stay the fuck back” Mindy said when he tried to come closer

"N-no I- I'm not... It's not me I swear... Y/n y-you believe me right...?"

You really wanted to. But last time he didn't have an alibi, and now...

"I'm sorry..."

You could see how broken he was hearing your words. Maybe he wasn't the killer after all. Or he was a good actor, which wasn't to exclude.

You were waiting in the waiting room, Tara sitting on your lap and caressing your hair gently in an attempt to reassure you. You were starting to believe her when the doctors came.

You all got up immediately, heart beating faster than ever.

"Mrs Meeks should be okay, but she needs rest"

"And Chad?" Sam asked

"I'm... sorry. We did our best but... we couldn't save him..."

You had to sit back down, in shock. You never thought that would happen again. You thought losing friends was over. You should've known it would end up this way, with Ghostface's return.

Maybe you were just in denial. Believing if you convinced yourself it wouldn't happen everything would be fine. But nothing was fine.

The 2022 massacre left a indelible mark on you. The current events only reopened the scar you thought had healed.

Maybe if you had stick all together he would still be alive. If you had been all together Ghostface wouldn't have tried anything. If you had left this stupid town when you could...

Maybe it was all your fault after all.

You were the first target, but you survived. No first targets survived before Tara. And you weren't even sure they wanted her dead at that moment.

Maybe the killer wanted to make you suffer before killing you. Maybe it was all part of their plan to let you live. Maybe they were about to destroy everything you had. Maybe-

You felt hands on your face and looked down to see Tara, concern written on her face. She brushed your cheeks with her thumbs softly. It was only then that you realized that you were crying.

That was the moment Lexi chose to arrive, breathing heavily and sweating. She must have run here.

"I- I'm sorry I had piano lesson- I just- I just saw your texts-" she took a deep breath "Mindy- is she going to be okay? And- and Chad?"

You didn't have the strength to tell her. Not now, it was still to fresh. Instead you broke down in your girlfriend's arms. You could swear she was crying too.

A loud noise made you tilt your head up. Lexi had pinned Damian to the wall, gripping him by the collar of his shirt.

"What did you do to them? You were here to why didn't you help?"

"I- I got knocked out...! I already told them...!" he made a circle toward you with his arm "L- Lexi I swear I didn't- I can't breath can you-"

"I don't fucking believe you. That's easy pretending you passed out."

Her grip only grew tighter. Damian's face started to become red. He was struggling against the blonde.

Sam had to force them appart, holding a furious Lexi away from the poor boy trying to catch his breath.

After everyone had calmed down, the police arrived and questioned the group. They didn't seem to believe Damian's alibi either.

"Maybe we should take him into custody for a little while? Just to make sure he's not, you know, the killer?" a deputy asked the sheriff

"We can't do that without evidences, that would be abusing of our power as representants of the law-"

"Do it" all head turned to the boy "T- take me into custody, you'll see it's not me. If it's the only way I can prove my innocence... I'll do it"

"You sure about that son?"

"Y-yeah"

"Okay then... come with me" the deputy said after the sheriff nodded

"The hospital is secure, we have police officers at each floor, you should be safe here. Don't go out, don't stay alone until morning. Understood?"

You weren't totally sure you could believe him. You remembered well how it ended last time. Ghostface always managed to pass past the security, why would that change now?

When the police left, you were allowed to see Mindy. She was devastated. Fortunately, her girlfriend was here for her.

Yours was holding your hand tight, fingers intertwined with yours. She knew it could've been you as much as you knew it could've been her. At the moment, you were so glad she was safe.

But it was just temporary. It always was.

Ghostface knew when to hit you. Not too soon after the previous attack, not too long after. Just as you started to think it would get better -or at least not worse. Just when hope started coming back.

The moment it hurt the most.

"Can you guys stay here for the rest of the night...?"

"Of course, we're not leaving you alone after that..."

Everyone started to move things around to get confortable for the night. You and Tara sat on the floor, on a blanket, in a corner.

You could hear soft snores, your little group falling asleep one after another. You didn't know how they could sleep in that situation. You couldn't.

Every time you closed your eyes, Ghostface appeared before you, ready to kill all your friends one by one.

You watched as Tara was sleeping on your shoulder. She seemed peaceful. You played with her hair, trying you imagine you were in your room, and it was a normal night.

you didn't realize she was awake, caught into your daydream, until she spoke.

"Are you okay...?" she whispered

You jumped a little.

"I... don't know... you?"

"Same... I just- I just hoped it wouldn't happen again... It's stupid but- I thought it would be different..."

"It's not stupid... I would rather say unrealistic... but- that's horrible but... I'm glad it wasn't you... I don't know what I would do if- if you-"

The words got stuck in your throat, tears blurring your vision again. The simple thought of losing her was unbearable.

"Hey..." she whipped your tears off of your face gently "It's not going to happen okay? I'm not dying, not now. I swear"

She kissed you tenderly, trying to whip your worries away, hand still holding yours. You kissed her back, like it was the last time.

Because it might be. We never know.

"Try to rest a little okay...?"

You nodded, resting your head on hers once she got back in her previous position against you.

You tried not to think about what just happened, or how it could get worse. You tried to empty your mind, only leaving one thought there: Tara.

But it was always when you thought the situation wouldn't get worse that it does.

You should have known the worst was yet to come.

And it would come fast.

[Previous part] || [Next part]

[haddonfieldwhore]

scary dog privilege pt3- ethan landry

ethan landry x alt! reader

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

1.6k words // part 2

warnings: mentions of death, language, blood/gore, violence

❥ taglist: @breadbowser @lillunna @fanboyluvr @wroetoslut @gojosbucket @not3rracha @homebyeleven

the six of you that had made it through the night were sitting outside the apartment, those of you with injuries getting patched up in the back of an ambulance. you hadn’t let go of mindys hand since leaving dannys apartment- trying to comfort her at least a little, and you were a little surprised that she didn’t pull away. the paramedics had patched up the cut on her arm, as well as bandaged your shoulder blade and put a small piece of tape on you cheek to hold the cut closed.

you watched as detective bailey, quinn’s dad, came out of the apartment, and started to break down after seeing quinn’s body. sam and tara went to talk to him, and you heard chad mutter under his breath. you looked up to see ethan approaching, ducking under the police tape.

“fuck-“ ethan muttered under his breath.

chad walked over to him and slammed him against the side of a car by his backpack straps.

“where were you man?!” chad demanded.

“wha-when?”

“last night!” chad yelled.

“i - i had econ- you know this!” ethan stuttered.

“bullshit man, you disspapear and my sister almost gets killed!” chad yelled in his face.

“i was in a study hall with a hundred other people. ask any of them,” ethan pleaded, his eyes wide as chad stared him down, before he let go of him. “who…?” ethan asked, noticing the ambulances and the body bag in the alleyway that held anikas body.

“anika- and quinn.” chad told him. his eyes scanned around until they landed on you, and you sent him a small wave. he started walking towards the ambulance.

“mindy, im so sorry-“

“step the fuck back. you’re at the top of my list.” she said.

“i had econ-“ ethan insisted, but she just looked away from him, finally removing her hand from yours. slowly getting out of the back of the ambulance, you walked over to ethan. “a..are you okay?” he asked. “i was in study hall i swear.”

“i believe you.” you said, and a few tears formed in your eyes. “i just … i was so scared.” you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your face into his shoulder. careful not to hurt your bandaged shoulder, ethan’s arms wrapped around your lower back as you cried.

“i’m sorry- fuck, i should’ve been there with you guys.”

“no i- i’m glad you were somewhere safe.” you stuttered. even after only knowing ethan for one day, you cared about him.

“i’m glad you’re okay.” he said, stroking your hair gently.

you and ethan watched as detective bailey, talked to sam and tara, who were then joined by kirby reed, from the fbi, and gale weathers. they motioned for everyone to come over to them, and explained that gale found something related to the first two victims. with mindy shooting a death glare at ethan as she walked by, you grabbed his hand reassuringly, and he smiled slightly, before you followed after the rest of the group.

•

the group arrived at dark movie theatre, clearly not having been in use in years. as the lights came on, you saw display cases and mannequins wearing bloodied clothing, and you noticed morbid drawings next to the cases.

“what is this place?” someone asked.

“it’s a movie theatre”, tara replied.

“not just a movie theatre,” gale added. “it’s a shrine.”

a large garage-like door lifted over a stage at the other end of the room, revealing 9 mannequins wearing ghostface costumes.

“how did they get all this stuff; i mean isn’t this evidence?” tara asked.

“cops like money,” you replied, and detective bailey shot you a look, but you shrugged it off.

“present company excluded of course,” gale added. “but they’re right. and evidence can get lost pretty easily.”

“chad- this is uncle randy’s,” she said, pointing to a video store shirt.

“uhh what exactly am i doing here?” ethan asked. “my alibi checks out.”

“so i can keep an eye on you, roomie,” chad explained, and mindy gestured that she was watching him by pointing her fingers at her eyes and then towards him.

“and… i want you close to me so i can protect you,” you teased, grabbing onto his arm.

“why do i need protecting? what if i need to protect you?” ethan countered, and you heard chad snicker.

“dude,” ethan exclaimed.

“i’m sorry - i’m just saying… i’m a little more scared of ..” chad pointed at you as if you couldn’t see him.

“yeah… a lot more scared,” mindy agreed.

“i’m gonna take that as a compliment,” you said, and mindy smiled.

“i would expect nothing less.”

everyone looked around at the different displays, before sam went over to look at her father, billy’s costume, displayed in the centre of the stage. tara followed after her, and eventually everyone stood on the stage.

“if this was a normal stab movie, this would be the killers lair,” mindy said.

“which means this isn’t a normal stab movie,” kirby decided. tears began to fill tara’s eyes before she ran out of the room, sam chasing after her. mindy and kirby sat on the edge of the stage, and began talking about horror movies, leaving you chad and ethan alone to walk around the theatre displays. chad was occasionally staring at the two of you, and you gave him a death stare when your eyes finally caught his.

“can i help you?” you asked, and you stopped walking, as ethan continued down the display cases, leaving just you and chad.

“no i just… didn’t expect you guys to..”

“to what?”

“i mean at the party when he was checking you out…i didn’t expect someone like you-“

“someone like me? what does that mean?” you snapped, starting to get annoyed, and you could tell that chad regretted saying it.

“i’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “all i meant was, you two seem like.. pretty different. not- not that there’s anything wrong with that!” he stammered after your eyebrow raised. “i didn’t think ethan would actually talk to you, i thought he’d chicken out. he’s been checking you out for months you know,” chad explained, and your expression softened, looking across the room at the curly haired boy who was oblivious to the whole conversation.

“he has?” you asked, kinda more to yourself.

“look, i don’t know you, and these last 2 days have been- really intense. i always thought you were kinda scary or mean- “

“because people think that’s how i am. or they treat me like i’m different and i’ve just….grown tired of it,” chad looked at you sadly,

“i was going to say; but you actually seem pretty cool. and i wish we got off on a better foot,” he extended his hand for you to shake, as a false sort of do over, but he pulled it back teasingly. “unless you’re the killer in which i take it all back.” he smiled, and you shook his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you played along. “and.. yeah same for you.” you laughed. ethan walked back over to you guys, a small smile on his face at the sight of you and chad seemingly getting along. he was going to say something, when detective bailey interrupted, walking into the room with gale.

“i think i have a plan that might help us turn the tables on this creep,” he announced, and you noticed tara and kirby sat up in the balcony seats. sam walked back into the room as well, and everyone listened as bailey went over the plan.

•

the plan, for lack of a better word did not go as planned. you were all sat in the lobby of gale weathers’ apartment building, after the paramedics had taken her to the hospital. using sam and tara as bait in central park, bailey and kirby had tried to get a trace on the killers phone to catch him, but he had anticipated the trap, and went after gale instead; the only one who wasn’t there.

“i’m scared you guys,” mindy admitted. “i really don’t wanna get hurt again.” chad and tara rested their heads on each of her shoulders, curling into her from either side. “i don’t want you getting hurt again either,” she said to chad.

“i know. i know,” he mumbled. ethan wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

“maybe he gets to win this time,” sam said, her eyes filling with tears.

“what?” tara asked, sitting up and staring at her sister.

“he wants to punish me. so maybe i let him,” she cried.

“we’re not doing that,” tara shook her head.

“if this is what i have to do to keep you safe, it’s worth it.”

“no, sam. every day you make the decision to protect us. we wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for you. you need to let us protect you this time.” chad and mindy nodded in agreement.

“he’s gonna keep coming after us,” mindy spoke.

“isn’t there somewhere safe we could hole up?”

“he’ll just find us again,” tara shook her head. “we could use that though.” she pulled out her phone, calling detective bailey and telling her the plan to trap him somewhere and execute him. your hands fiddled absentmindedly with ethan’s fingers, trying to distract yourself from everything going on.

“hey.. i won’t let anything happen to you,” ethan whispered in your ear, and you smiled sadly before sam announced that you were all taking the subway to the theatre. you just hoped you all made it there in one piece.

[sage-green-matcha]

MAROON - ETHAN LANDRY PT. 6🍷🥀🔪

"And I wake with your memory over me. That's a real fuckin' legacy to leave” - Taylor Swift

Content includes: you being depressed! that's all

PT. 1 of Maroon I PT. 2 of Maroon I PT. 3 of Maroon |

PT. 4 of Maroon | PT. 5 of Maroon |

<3

<3

<3

You looked up, Danny Running into the police station with exhaustion on his face. "I came as fast as I could" "did you?" Tara questioned. He had become a suspect, not seeing him all day and now suddenly he appears, it was weird ."Guys, I'm scared" Mindy, who was always strong was scared, so the rest of you were horrified.

"I really don't wanna get hurt again" she mumbled. You took her hand into yours, placing your head on her shoulder. "Neither do I" Chads voice was shaky, cold, scared. The battle between the group and ghost Face was more than exhausting. You felt your will to live drain with every person you saw get hurt.

"I don't want you getting hurt again either, Chad" he rested his head on his twins shoulder, a soft "I know" escaping his lips. Sams was emotionless, eyes looking down as she thought, hard. "So what do we do now?" You sighed, Chads question going unanswered. None of you knew what to do, there was nothing you could do to make this stop. It was a never ending game and you weren't ready for the next level.

"Maybe he gets to win this time" Sam bit back on her lip, all of you looking up at her. "He wants to punish me, me. So maybe i let him" She stood up, defeat all over her face. "I'll just give myself up" she sniffed, shaking her head. You all looked at her with concern. "If this is what I have to do, to keep you safe. It's worth it" "No? We're not doing this, Sam. Alright? You loved back to Woodsboro to protect me, every singe day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive If it weren't for you" the three of you nodded, agreeing with Tara.

"You have to let us protect you this time" tears welled in her eyes, Sam shaking her head. "Yes, Sam...we're a Team? Remember?" You felt Mindy stand up, letting go of your hand. "Actually, we're a family" Chad smiled as he dragged you up, clapping. "Let's go! Fantastic 5! Come on" chad smiled at all of you, his face filling back with his classic smile.

"Fantastic five..yea okay" you felt bad for Danny, being excluded from the group. "It's an us thing" Chad added. "He's gonna keep coming after us" tears fell onto her cheeks, wiping them away with the sleeve of her jacket. "Isn't there somewhere safe we can just hol up in?" You almost forgot Quinn was still here, her presence not missed. "He's just gonna keep finding us" you answered, a sigh escaping her lips. "Great.."

"We could use that though..." you looked up at the group. "He keeps finding us, right? So what if we just go into a secure location and kill him...I mean it makes sense, we could use it to our advantage" the light bulb in your brain flickered with ideas. "Call Bailey" Tara grabbed her Phone, calling His Number.

"You want me to do what?" You could hear his confusion from over the phone, Tara going over the plan again. "And then what..?" You gulped, biting your lip with nerves. "We execute him" you waited for a response, scared that he wasn't gonna agree. "Are you gonna help us?" The silence was nerve wrecking. "Let's kill the son of a bitch" weight lifted off your shoulder, Chad patting you on the back.

"Now, I'm stuck here but Gale gave us the Key cards to the theater., It's got heavy surveillance and security cameras but we can use that against him. I'll tell Kirby to meet you there and I'll meet you kids as soon as i can" "Got it" you smiled, your plan already in action. "And remember, travel in public. The more people around you the less chance he has to take a shot at you before you get there" you chewed on the inside of your cheek, playing with the blood stained bracelets on your wrist.

"We should get going then" Quinn mumbled. "You guys really think this is gonna work?" You questioned your plan, everyone nodding. "Well it better, it's not like we have any better ideas" the walk to the Station was painful, crowds all over the streets of New York. Everyone was in costumes, what a fun way to spend your Halloween night.

"This plan feels junky" Quinn added, walking down the heavily crowded stairs. "You don't have to come if you don't want to" Tara spat. "So we just peel off and then the killer kills us off one by one? Yea, I think I'm good" "let's just get to the theater" you shook your head.

You followed Sam, taking a hold of her hand as she pushed inside the train. Chad and Tara followed behind. "Where's Mindy?" You furrowed your eyebrows, standing on your tiptoes to try and find her.

"Hey, Mindy! Mindy!" You watched as Chad tried to pull her in, blocked off by a stranger. "Fuck!" She banged against the door, a groan escaping your lips. "Well, we're fucked" you smiled awkwardly. "She's with Quinn right?" Sam asked. "Yea, great...shes alone with one of our suspects" chad mumbled.

"Shit..." you all looked at what Chad was looking at. Two masked figures mixed into the crowd. It was like a haunted house packed into a train, the masks varying from ghost face to jigsaw. "How many stops do we have?" Tara asked, Sam looking at the map. "Ten..." you all looked at each other again, heads shaking as you pulled out your phone. You opened Mindys text, reading it out loud. "Great, I'm stuck with gf. I'll meet you guys there" well, this plan is going really well!" You exaggerated. You began to question why you even brought up the idea. But it's not like anyone had anything better. It also just made the most sense.

The train made a stop, Scooting yourself back as you saw a ghost face mask walk towards your group. "Guys.." Cute boy stood in front of all of you, your paranoid states calming down as the mask man walked out of the train.

"Finally, come on let's go" You all walked out of the train station, Kirby waiting as you exited. "Hey, I talked to Bailey, we've got everything set up...where are Mindy and Quinn?" "They're 5 minutes behind us" you filled her in, walking into the dark alley to get into the theater. "Not you, Dan. Don't trust anyone...remember? We don't know you" it was safer if he didn't come, if he was ghost face than fuck, but if he wasn't it would be safer if he wasn't involved at all.

Your heart raced as you entered, looking around the familiar space. "I cleared the whole place before you got here, so this is the only way to get in it out. We've turned it into a kill box" "and...the weapons?" She pointed down to her belt. "One gun, and I hold onto it" Sam gave her a stare. "I'm the only one with a badge here, so that's the way it's gonna be, we're safe here"

"I'll check in with Mindy, see if they're close" sam and Tara took off their jackets. You tied Ethan's tightly around your waist, checking for the knife in your pocket. You started carrying one since Woodsboro, you knew it would come in handy.

You decided to wait upstairs by yourself, probably not the best idea but you knew you'd be safe. Chad and Tara wandered off, Sam in your eyesight as she stood on the stage.

You heard her phone ring, running up to the balcony before rushing down the stairs. "Sam" she turned, her eyes squinting as she took the call. "Get out of there Sam, you're not safe" You looked down at the phone in confusion, Bailey on the other line. "I heard from the Atlanta field office, they said agent Reeds has been on a downward spiral since the Woodsboro murders last year" "What is he talking about?" She shrugged, turning up the volume on her phone.

"They fired Kirby two months ago for being mentally unstable" You gave Sam a look, the both of you putting the pieces together. "She's no longer with the FBI" Your eyes widened before you ran towards the door. "No! Sam, it's locked, remember?" She tried to wiggle the door open, stopping as the lights shut off. "Where'd you get that knife?" "My dad's box.." she pulled your closer, holding the weapon out in front of her.

Your heart jumped as you heard a noise, a voice. Coming from the projector. There was a video playing on the ripped-up screen, no idea how it got down. "Oh...shit" it was a girl getting stabbed, murdered by someone in a ghost face mask. The two of you watched in horror, no words as the film continued to play.

"Could you put that thing down?" You asked and she shook her head. You heard a loud scream, glass breaking as you and Sam rushed towards the others. You swung open the door, scared as Tara screamed in pain. "Come on! Come on! Go, go" you panted as you ran, helping Tara stay up. "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" "No shit!" Chad ran towards the door. "That's locked!" You screamed, "She made this whole theater a kill box" you added, walking down.

"Hey! What about that? There's an Exit door! Maybe it leads to the roof or something?” You pointed, everyone, looking down at the ladder. "There's only one way to find out, come on let's go" "Baileys on his way by the-" You jumped back, Ghost Face waving his awful knife in front of you. “God, we’re fucked”

[fictionobsession]

Learning Hurts

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Tav totally wanted to learn how to handle a dagger.

Word Count: 2,232

Warnings: knives, blood, maybe ooc astarion sorry, not beta'd

A/N: This is my first time writing a full-length fic in... a minute, so please forgive anything that doesn't make sense lolol but the Astarion brainrot would not leave me alone so you get this, you're welcome or smth

--

The sun was just beginning to set on their little camp as Tav leaned back, hands folded behind their head, watching the routine the group had so easily fallen into. Gale was ordering Wyll to bring him various ingredients that had been left around the camp. Karlach was arm-wrestling Lae'zel for the hundredth time, the latter sporting a triumphant grin at her unbroken winning streak. Shadowheart was using the time for her nightly meditations. And Astarion, never helping or socializing unless explicitly asked, was sitting outside his tent sharpening his blades.

Tav didn't stop themself staring at the way he inspected his work, running a long, slender finger along the deadly edge. They didn't try to tear their eyes away as he twirled the dagger, paying close attention to the way the firelight danced across the metal. Astarion balanced the dagger on one finger, flipped it once, twice, like he wanted to be sure it hadn't lost its balance somewhere along the way. Flip, twirl, catch. Flip, catch, turn. Tav was mesmerized by the dexterous movements of hand and knife, not noticing the smirk that had found its way to the rogue's face, or the sudden increase in complexity of the knife's ministrations.

“I can teach you some tricks if you really find it that interesting.”

Tav's gaze snapped up at the smirk they heard rather than saw, and caught the teasing glint in those lovely red eyes across from them. Tav cleared their throat, trying to sound at least somewhat normal, cringing when their voice still came out as a squeak. “oh, uh, yeah? Yeah! The knife work is very interesting. That sounds fun!”

He motioned to the space next to him, but Tav was rooted in place, looking back and forth between his eyes and the gesture.

“Come on, darling. I won't bite unless you ask me to.”

Tav felt their mouth run dry, and they swallowed hard, trying to contain any reaction they most certainly did not have to that particular statement. They knew they had failed, though, when they heard the snort of laughter Astarion graciously attempted to disguise as a cough – an attempt that may have worked if not for the crinkles at the corners of his eyes giving him away. Tav glared at him in what they hoped was at least a vaguely threatening way before taking a deep breath and moving to hover in from of his tent, a respectable distance from the man himself.

The elf rolled his eyes, an unfortunately common sight for Tav, handing them his off-hand dagger and promptly closing the respectable distance. “Alright, darling, we're going to start very simple, since you're just as like to stab yourself as the enemy half the time.”

It was a joke, or at least mostly a joke (excluding that one time), but Tav's face went hot with embarrassment anyway. They held the dagger like it might try to jump from their grip, knuckles white from the pressure. Astarion raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for Tav to figure it out. They loosened their grip a bit, rubbing a thumb over the lightly worn leather on the hilt, the texture grounding them and letting some of their anxieties disappate. They tried a few different ways to hold it, almost cutting themselves more than once, before Astarion found himself reaching out to adjust their grip. Both pause at the contact, but Astarion quickly waved it off with a murmured excuse. “Wouldn't be much of a teacher if I let you hurt yourself in the first five seconds, would I?”

He took a step back, pulling out his own dagger and showing off a quick grip change that looked like a simple flick in and then out. Tav recognized it faintly as the way they'd seen him reposition after a stealth attack on an enemy. Not that they were paying attention to his hand positioning in combat, just simply watching for timing for the rest of the group, of course. “It's important to be able to switch like this so you can react to enemies from multiple directions without adjusting your whole stance,” he explained as he demonstrated a few more times. Tav started to move slowly, clumsily, tucking the blade back and down, then out again. They kept at it, increasing speed as they went, until they got it pretty close to what Astarion was doing. They looked up, pleased with their progress, just in time to see an unfamiliar expression swiftly disappear from his face. If someone didn't know better, they might've described it as fond. Luckily, Tav knew better. “Sorry that took a minute, I know it should've been easy. Could you show me how to do the flip thing you were doing earlier?”

Astarion's brow furrowed at the request, and he was already shaking his head before the question was finished. “Absolutely not. You can barely do this, and I will not be responsible for - “ he noticed the pathetic, begging, ridiculous eyes Tav was giving him. Normally, he would've been unaffected by anyone's big doe eyes, but something about Tav at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to say no. “Oh, alright. But when you hurt yourself, I will not be feeling sorry for you. Are we clear?”

Tav nodded fervently, afraid he'd change his mind.

“I said, are we clear? Use your words, darling, or I'm putting these away.” A quick gesture with his knife, that playful gleam in his eye. Tav knew he was trying to get under their skin, make them uncomfortable enough to walk away from their little lesson. But Tav, stubborn as they were, would never give him the satisfaction. They brought their eyes up to meet his, back straight, exuding a confidence they weren't sure they actually possessed.

“Yes, sir. Very clear.”

And if they allowed themselves a satisfied grin when Astarion almost dropped his dagger, well, nobody needed to know.

He blinked hard, face contorting into another unfamiliar expression, this one almost akin to his “I just got punched in the face” expression, before he resumed his normal aloof grin. He tossed his dagger, letting it flip twice in the air before catching it. He shook his head and tossed it again, only letting it flip once before catching it this time. He did it again, again, again. Finally he nodded approvingly and turned back to Tav. “Alright, you're going to try to flip it once, like this, and then step back. You want to flip it forward so it goes more away from you than towards you. Then you let it fall to the ground. I don't want you to try to catch it yet. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

They felt the weight of the blade in their hand and tried to avoid looking directly at Astarion, lest their hands start to shake. They took a deep breath, tossed the knife harder than anticipated, and watched as it flipped not once, not twice, but three times before gravity pulled it back down...point first. Tav's eyes widened as Astarion yanked them away, their back suddenly flush against his chest. The surprise wore off quickly, replaced by embarrassment when they felt rather than heard their companion's laughter from behind them. Astarion didn't try to hide it, forehead hitting Tav's shoulder as he shook with giggles. They pulled themself from his arms and stumbled to pick up the dagger from where it had stuck perfectly in the ground, glaring at the still-laughing rogue.

“Are you sure you want to learn this?” The elf managed to huff the question between bouts of giggles. Tav narrowed their eyes in his direction, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender. “Maybe try that a few more times before you attempt catching it then, if you think you can manage to not stab yourself in the head.”

Tav's outrage came out as a very dignified squawk. “You – I'm only distracted because you're watching! Quit looking!”

“I didn't realize I made you so nervous.” An eyebrow cocked in amusement. Tav fought the urge to stomp their foot in a childish fit of annoyance. “Fine, fine. I'll turn around. Just make sure you step out of the way, please. I really would hate to lose my favorite traveling companion.” A wink shot Tav's way as Astarion turned to watch the flames of the campfire.

He stayed facing the fire for what seemed like ages, listening in barely concealed amusement to the thumps of the knife hitting the ground, almost always followed by a huff or grumble of annoyance, until he heard the faintest oh instead. “What's wrong, my dear? Tired of dropping things yet?”

“Uhm...” His eyes narrowed as Tav trailed off. “Yes, I think I might... might need to practice more a different time.”

Their voice was shaky and weaker than usual, none of their confidence and joking nature present. Astarion whirled around, unmasked concern evident on his face. The first thing he noticed were the tears pooling in Tav's eyes. The second thing was the intoxicating scent of their blood hitting him full force. His lips dropped into a perfect o as he stared at the drip, drip, drip of blood falling from Tav's fingers.

“Astarion? I'm sorry, I know you said you weren't going to feel bad. It's okay, my fault for trying to catch it, really. Please don't be mad.” Their small voice brought him back to the moment, only slightly disgusted with himself for getting distracted.

“Oh, love, what have you done?” He took two long strides toward them, grabbing their hand. He rubbed a thumb so gently near the wound, gauging the depth and severity. His expression softened as he looked up at Tav. “I'm not mad at you, but it must hurt. Do you want me to go get Shadowheart?”

“No!” Tav winced at the forcefulness of their own words. “No, no one needs to know how ridiculous this was.”

“They are right across camp, I'm sure they'll know regardless. Besides that, you shouldn't have to be in pain just because you're clumsy, you know.” He pulled his hand away, and caught Tav watching him inspect the blood left on his thumb. He brought the thumb to his mouth and licked a bit of the blood off, smirking at Tav's nose scrunching up in response. “Delicious.”

Tav reached up to smack his shoulder lightly with their uninjured hand.

“Sorry, love. I just can't help myself.” He paused before continuing. “Hm. Well, if you're insistent on suffering, can I at least help you clean up?”

Tav's imagination immediately took over, providing detailed visuals of how Astarion might “clean up” a bloody mess, which did not help the tightness in their stomach caused by him licking the last of the blood off his own fingers. Their mind wandered from there, unbidden images of Astarion, always teasing, always flirting, using that beautiful mouth for licking, kissing, biting... They shook the thoughts from their head, just in time to see him emerging from his tent with a cloth too clean to be found anywhere nearby. He held it up to them, offering to literally just clean the wound.

Tav sighed, mentally reprimanding themselves for having those thoughts about a companion, a friend, that clearly just wants to help. It had been a while, they justified to themself, since they had found anyone as intriguing, mysterious, hilarious, attractive as Astarion. There was no crime there, right? It didn't mean anything, and certainly wasn't anything they would act upon. Friends could have the occasional thought about each other right? It didn't matter that it was always the same friend. Or that those thoughts were certainly becoming more than occasional at this point. Gods, they were fucked. This would definitely be a problem later.

Tav's inner monologue continued as Astarion took the white cloth, folded it twice before taking Tav's warm hand in his cold one again and wrapping the cloth around the injury. He winced along with them as he tightened the bandage.

“'m sorry. I'll be done in a moment. I have to wrap it tightly enough to stop the bleeding.” Tav had never seen such a naked look of emotion on the man's face. They felt like they might faint, not from the blood loss, but from the sheer amount of concern present there.

“It's okay, Star. I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose.” The smile Tav gave him could have outshone the sun. Astarion suddenly found himself with shaking hands, unable to identify what the hells this feeling was. He tried to finish the wrapping quickly, wanting to put distance between himself and the object of his racing thoughts. He turned Tav's hand, making sure the bandage was secure from all angles, and stalked toward the woods without a word.

Tav calling his name got only the slightest pause. “Thank you for trying to teach me. And for cleaning me up. You didn't have to do that.”

His steps stuttered, and he turned, not quite facing them, though they could see the pained look on his face anyway. “I think I did.”

He slipped out of view, leaving Tav standing, head tilted like a confused puppy, staring after him, completely unaware of the crisis of self they had just thrust upon the unsuspecting vampire spawn.

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

Alchemy 410 Chapter 1: The Lab Partner

SUMMARY: Illyth Arabana and Gale Dekarios can’t be in the same room without wanting to throttle each other. Can they survive being lab partners in their fourth year alchemy class?

RATING: M

PAIRING: OC x Gale

TAGS: Enemies to friends to lovers, pre-canon, Gale in university/college, eventual smut, slow-ish burn

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

A/N: Intended this to be a one-shot but I’m gonna turn this into a medium length fic instead lol whoops. Props again to @theletteraesc for the student!Gale HC.

Chapter 2

Illyth’s sharp footfalls echoed sharply against the stone floors of Blackstaff Academy. The young drow woman carried herself with pride: shoulders back, chin up, and a stoic expression on her face. Her eyes were bright and intense as she walked with purpose through the halls. Her alchemy lab class was starting in a matter of minutes. While alchemy was Illyth’s least favorite arcane art, the fourth year alchemy lab was the last class she needed to take before graduating in Mirtul.

Today was a day that would make or break her sanity for the rest of the term; it was lab partner assignment day. She prayed that fate would rule in her favor and get a competent, collaborative lab partner who showed up and did their work on time without prodding or pleading. Her odds of being paired with a lab partner whose capabilities were up to her standards were lower than she would have liked; a twenty percent chance.

Her odds were only ten percent if she excluded Gale Dekarios, who was brilliant but never showed up until lab practical days. He and Illyth were well-matched academically and if he bothered showing up half of the time, Illyth could conjure a begrudging respect for him. Yet, that arrogant bastard barely had to lift a finger while Illyth worked herself to the bone. For that, she loathed him.

Her pleas to Mystra went unanswered that day. On a piece of parchment detailing partner assignments, her fate was sealed in black ink:

Arabana, Illyth & Dekarios, Gale

“This has to be a fucking joke,” Illyth muttered under her breath. “Unbelievable.”

As if on cue, Gale peered over Illyth’s shoulder, muttering as he read over the list of partner assignments. “Ah, excellent,” he remarked under his breath, his voice laden with sarcasm.

“Excellent, indeed,” Illyth sneered. There had to be some way to get out of this mess. Surely she could talk to the professor and get this all straightened out.

She snaked her way through the small crowd of students that had clustered behind her, making her way over to the professor, a stern half-orc alchemist, who was studying a scroll and muttering to themselves.

“Hi, Professor Gnurr,” Illyth cooed, giving the half-orc a charming smile.

The professor didn’t bother to look up at Illyth before raising a massive clawed hand. “All partner assignments are final,” they replied, keeping their eyes trained on the scroll.

“But —“

“All partner assignments are final, Miss Arabana,” the alchemist sighed tiredly. They turned away from Illyth, thereby signaling the end of any further negotiations.

Illyth set her jaw and stomped over to the lab bench where she and Gale were assigned to work. He was already leaning on the desk, languidly flipping through a dusty tome that he’d likely swiped from the off-limits section of the library.

“Kind of you to show up today, Gale,” Illyth said, spitting out the words as if they left a foul taste in her mouth.

“It’s your lucky day, is it not?” Gale replied dryly, not bothering to look at Illyth as he spoke.

Illyth scoffed and flipped Gale’s book shut, causing him to yelp in surprise.

“What is your problem, Illyth?” Gale asked, visibly exasperated.

“You’re my problem,” Illyth growled, narrowing her wine red eyes at Gale.

“Miss Arabana and Mr. Dekarios, if the two of you don’t settle down, you’re headed to the headmaster’s office to explain why you can’t get along,” Professor Gnurr snapped. Gale and Illyth shared a look of disgust, but said nothing more.

They cleared their throat before continuing to address the class. “Now, each group will receive an assigned potion for the month. You are to research it, collect its components, test it upon a homunculus for efficacy, adjust its preparation if needed, and present a tutorial for the class.”

“The goal of today’s lab will be to acquaint yourself with your assigned potion and draft a plan for synthesizing the potion.”

Professor Gnurr lumbered through the classroom, giving each pair of lab partners a small piece of parchment listing the potion, its components, and its specific parameters for brewing. Gale and Illyth were the last pair to receive their assignment: Draught of Mind-Reading

“So,” Gale began, looking up from the procedural document at his visibly annoyed lab partner. “What’s on your mind, Illyth?”

Illyth narrowed her eyes and sucked at her teeth, saying nothing at all to the obnoxious prodigy who stood beside her.

“Looks like we’ll need spawn vine, starborn flax, beholder eye stalks,” Illyth mumbled as she read over the ingredient list. Where in the hells are we going to find beholder eye stalks, she thought. “We’ll need a titration set-up with a buret and a flask, a burner, and a tester homunculus.”

She pursed her lips together before returning her attention to Gale, who was gazing out the window and toying aimlessly with a ball of purple light.

“Otiluke’s boots, are you even paying attention?” Illyth snapped. Her voice was growing more and more irritable as she struggled to contain her frustration with Gale’s lackadaisical demeanor.

“Hm?” he hummed, looking over his shoulder at her. “I have already reviewed the requirements of this option. I believe we can easily acquire the majority of the components from the botany supply lab.”

He paused, puckering his lips in thought. “The buret titration set-up is available, for I have my own. We will not need the lab space for that.”

So that’s how he gets out of going to class, Illyth reasoned. He does all of this in his dorm room. How in the hells does this guy manage to evade every rule around here and not get expelled? If it were me —

Illyth swallowed hard, trying to stifle her bitterness at this realization. Of course the male prodigy gets to do whatever he wants. A drow like me would be expelled for even considering it. Were we in Menzoberranzan, the situation would be far different.

But this wasn’t Menzoberranzan, No, this was the surface-dwellers’ world and she had to play by the surface-dwellers’ rules. Drow were still persona non grata, even if it wasn’t expressly stated. Illyth’s people were still regarded as untrustworthy and dangerous. Even a Seldarine like herself was subject to bigotry. As it turned out, a drow was a drow as far as any surface-dweller was concerned.

Gale interrupted Illyth’s train of thought. “The beholder eyestalks, on the other hand, may be more difficult to acquire.” He paused, stroking his chin. “They require significant effort to acquire, which makes them quite uncommon. Acquisition only occurs by means of slaying a beholder, which —“

“You mean they don’t grow on trees?” Illyth asked sarcastically, contorting her face into an expression of mock surprise. “I know how beholder eyestalks are collected.” If there was one thing that irritated Illyth more than Gale’s ability to coast academically with minimal effort, it was his compulsive need to explain familiar or elementary concepts to her.

“I do believe I have an acquaintance who may be able to assist with the acquisition of such an obscure specimen,” Gale continued, ignoring Illyth’s agitated response. “I shall contact them. In the meantime, we must visit the botany supply room.”

“Right,” Illyth sighed. The class period was almost over and she had no plans that afternoon. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”

“You sound overwhelmed with excitement, Miss Arabana,” Gale replied, his voice laden with sarcasm. “Why, it seems you can hardly contain your enthusiasm.”

Illyth scowled at her lab partner, who stood smirking at her. “I’m excited to be done with you for the day, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh, come now, Illyth. Am I that repugnant?”

Illyth gave Gale a backwards glance as the two. Of them left the lab and began to walk towards the botany greenhouses. “I don’t think you want me to answer that question, Dekarios.”