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frantic-fiction · 9 months

Text

Secluded Evening 18+

(GIF: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav

Warnings: 18+ MDNI pretty much pure smut, fluff, nipple piercings, nipple play. Skinning dipping, unprotected sex, Late Act 1 Astarion

Summary: Astarion catches reader during a midnight swim. Playful flirting becomes physical. Basically, my take on reader and Astarion's first time in act 1. There is way more implication of Astarion's real attraction for reader, not just a manipulation tactic.

Word Count: 2.8k

The shadow curse land is just a few days west, and a sickly feeling has crept through the camp. The party is on edge, fighting a constant headache as you attempt to mediate the tension in a group of solid personalities during highly stressful events. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are at each other’s throats, bickering and pulling daggers when either sends a quip in the other's direction. Karlach is still burning hot despite her upgrade, and with Dammon already far along the path, all you can do is promise to get her to Baldur’s Gate as quickly as you can. Wyll is fine, but he’s Wyll, so that’s not surprising.

Gale, however, might be the one pushing your buttons the most, or at least he is testing your patience past your limit now. “Tav, I don’t believe I have to express again how important it is to acquire a magical artifact soon.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you get the sudden urge to whack him over the head with the book you held unread in your hands. “I will be glad not to have to feel my chest be ripped in two, but I will repeat: if I do not consume an artifact, I will die and level the general vicinity with me.”

You push off the log, slamming the novel down. Level-headedness has been one of your strong suits. It’s the main reason you found yourself leading these misfits across the kingdom. You can keep your cool under the most extreme sources of stress, but everyone is just annoying you today.

“Look, I get it. You need a shoe to chew on, or you’ll go boom. But guess what? I have given you every spare artifact I have to give. Our coins are down to silver and copper. So unless you are willing to chomp down on the stupid circlet you just ‘had to get,’ then you can suck it up and wait until we reach another town.” By the end, you’re yelling, and Gale looks like a kicked puppy. The rest of the camp has turned to look at your outburst. You burn with regret for everything immediately.

You reach out a tentative hand, “Gale, I didn’t—”

“No, you are absolutely right. Apologies for my inconvenience. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night, Tav.” He quickly returns to his tent and pins the flaps close.

Sighing, you rub your hands down your face. You feel terrible; Gale’s condition is excruciating, and you hate to be unable to get him something to alleviate the pain, but your supplies are down to the bone. “Fuck,” you breathe, picking the book back up and storing it away.

“I must say, my sweet, I could get used to this more dominating personality of yours. It certainly gets me excited.” Astarion practically purrs in your ear. You turn face to face and stumble back slightly at his proximity.

Brushing your hair behind your ears, you avoid his eye contact. A warmth spreads across your face. “Oh, I'm sure,” you smirked, clearing your throat and recovering quickly.

It was a game between you two, ignited on the beach with a knife to your throat. Harmless flirts, playful banter with no attention to go further. Attraction is thick, but neither dares to press in this dance.

He crowds into your space. His nose practically tickles yours. He plays with your hair, fingers tangling in the locks. His face dawns an emotion of concern. “Darling, I’ve noticed you’ve been very stressed these last few days.”

His breath fans your face. You grab the edge of his shirt. “I think it would be a good idea to release some tension. Some alone time, maybe?” His pointer finger traced the bone of your jaw.

You smirk and pull away, trailing your hand up the contours of his chest. “You're right.” His wicked grin widens like a cat playing with prey. “I think I'll call in early and have a night to myself. I hope you will be okay hunting tonight.”

When you were scouting the perimeter, you stumbled across a small alcove. It was breathtaking. Several willows enclosed a small lake, water beautifully sparkling in the sun. You love swimming and have been thinking about the lake ever since. You occupy yourself with finishing your book until the sun sets. Once the camp settles for the night, you grab your pack and sneak your way out to the forest line.

Astarion’s grin drops, and his arms go limp. You slip away, lifting the edge of your tent. “Thank you again. Do you mind telling the others as well?”

He glares knowingly, and with a wink, you drop the flap and sit on the floor. You gather your supplies: a change of clothes, your only towel, and your washing bag.

The lake isn't too far, and before you know it, you're there. It's different in the moonlight. Fireflies buzz around the cattails, the willow branches sway softly above the water, and frogs croak on lily pads. You set a blanket to place the rest of your stuff around, quickly tossing your clothes off and wading into the water.

It's not as cold as expected, but you still gasp at the initial sting. You adapt quickly and soon dive fully, submerging into the fresh water. You stay underwater; ears plugged, giving a warped vibration through your head. Once your lungs begin to burn, you surface and gulp air.

“Well, isn't this just a coincidence?” Astarion chuckles, standing at the shore with pale forearms crossed over his chest. “I was just out on my hunt when I came across such a delectable treat.”

You bite your bottom lip, pulling your hands back and forth, sucking water in and out around your form. “Well, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

You move onto your back and float, exposing your entire front half to his eyes. The water on your skin chills in the air. Your nipples pebble, and you hear a groan.

Floating in the water, you close your eyes. It's quiet momentarily before a large splash startles you and you're pulled under. You kick instinctually, and Astarion grabs your foot and drags you closer.

His strong arms circle your waist, and you resurface. You smack his chest. “You asshole.”

He laughs, and before you know it, you're laughing too. You sway in Astarion's arms as he carries you deeper into the lake. Grabbing a flower floating in the water, you begin to pick some of the limp petals. You look up and slide the flower into his hair. It's adorable.

Astarion pinches your chin and pulls your face close, staring deep into his eye. There are no words; you feel the line shatter when the reality of what's happening sinks in. There is no performance in his eyes. No formulaic flirtatious lines or sexy words. What is happening? You don't know, but when he crashes his lips to yours, you really fucking want to find out.

It's like a rubber band. The kisses open the damn, and soon your legs are wrapped around his hips. One hand threads through his pale curls, the other encircling his neck.

Astarion breaks from your lips and trails sloppy kisses down to your neck. "I have waited long enough to ravish you, my dear,"

And then you are moving; he's quickly wading through the water, not once removing his lips from your throat. You know it will bruise, and the idea of another mark of his sends heat lower down your body.

You sigh when Astarion nips your neck, pressing you down on the blanket. Wet skin slides against damp skin. Grabbing his hair, you pull him back up, capturing his lips. It is messy, sloppy, and all too much to handle.

You arch up, pressing your breast against his chest. He pauses, and you whine when he pulls away.

"What are these?" Astarion practically growls, pinching your hard nipple. You gasp his name as he twists the small metal bar through the nub. He grinds his hips against your leg. He's hard, his cock presses against his stomach.

"Jewelry," you moan, clutching his shoulder. "They make me more sensitive."

"Oh, my naughty girl," he lowers to take your neglected breast into his mouth. His skillful tongue sucks your breast, his hand paying equal attention to your other. Feeling a scrap of his fangs, you let out a cry of ecstasy, rolling your hips, seeking any source of friction.

Astarion pins your hips down and pulls away from your breast with a wet pop. "No, no, my sweet. I think you have not been fair keeping least lovely tits from me. I can't remember ever seeing such unique body modifications." He gives a sharp bite to your breast, just deep enough to pierce the skin.

Droplets of blood beaded to the surface; it was quickly lapped up with his tongue, a groan crawling its way up his chest. He slips one of his legs under yours, and his hips slide his stiff cock between sopping wet folds. You choke out his name, and his mouth moves to the other breast. "I think I'm owed a bit longer exploring such a beautiful chest."

"My, my, you're so responsive. I could spend hours pleasing you with my tongue." Astarion trails his tongue up between your breasts, eyes boring up into your flushed face. "Just imagine the delightful words I could pull from your beautiful lips as I lay between your thighs, playing your exquisite body like a bard's violin."

Your breath is uneven, panting while Astarion takes his time lavishing your breasts. Soon, your nipples are on fire, swollen from the ruthless attention Astarion has provided. Tears sting your eyes. You are desperate for anything, nothing; you are not sure, but you are moaning and pleading up into the night air. All available skin was victim to your desperate fingers.

"Starion, ugh-please, they're too sensitive." You tug at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips tug the metal bar just enough to pull another cry from your lips. He releases your breast with a wet pop.

You bite his neck (almost the same spot he uses to feed from you) and all semblance of his control dissolves—you're back on the blanket in a show of Astarion's speed. Air was knocked from your lungs. "Fuck, my dear," Astarion grinds against you coating his cock in more of your juices. "I believe we've waited enough time to enjoy each other. So, I think I fuck you, deep and slow, until you can only scream my name. And if you're lucky, spend the rest of the night pulling lovely whimpers from your over-sensitive cunt."

His husky voice purred in your ears. Your thighs clench, arousal dripping onto the blanket. "Star," you breathe out, grabbing his face and crashing your lips together. Teeth clashed, and tongues fought for dominance. Wrapping your legs fully around Astarion's slim hips, you roll up. Using his distraction as leverage, you twist your hips and maneuver the two of you.

Astarion is now on his back, curls silver in the dark, and his eyes are wide with shock. You comfortably sat on his hips, hands pressing on each of his pecs. "You have my full permission to do that, but if you don't fuck me right now, I will be taking care of myself in my tent." Lips are back on his before you chuckle in his ears. "We have teased each other for months. I think it's about time you do something about this pretty boy."

Astarion doesn't leave a moment to respond before he impales you with one deep thrust. Your nails dig into his shoulders. Astarion grabs your calf, raises your leg, and sets a brutally slow pace.

You were matching each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. Your mouth at his chest and throat, sloppily leaving kisses and spit on his pale torso. "Ug-fucking Gods, you so tight," The sounds of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of pleasure break up the quietness of the lake.

Astarion presses his forehead to yours, breathing in your whimpers of ecstasy. The force of his thrusts is jostling your breasts; your nipples rub against his cold skin.

The moans roll off your tongue; you put a hand into his hair. "A-astarion fast…faster," you choke, snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies to rub small circles over your clit. The warm tightening coils in your lower abdomen. "P-please, Star."

"Beautiful." Astarion's pace picks up, his balls slapping against your pussy. He quickly pushes your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own.

He doesn't need to be asked twice, and the cold pierce of his fangs digs into your throat. You choke on gasp, hips stuttering. Astarion is dragging, mouthfuls of your blood down his throat, his fingers picking up pace, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

The coil is tightening, and soon, you cannot form words outside of Astarion's name between pleases. "Oh, my sweet girl, so lost on my cock. I...fuck...I know it feels good."

He pinches your left nipple again and you whimper. "Your body is exquisite. I won't be able to last much longer, my love." His voice is hoarse, and he rambles between frantic ruts. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

Astarion presses kisses and licks to the hollow of your throat. He is asking for permission, and you quickly press him closer. "Yes, please," you groan. All the sensations Astarion was giving you were becoming too much. You were quickly approaching the edge.

The pain mixes with pleasure, and it's too much. Tears prick at your eyes. You ticken around hos cock and a rumble ruptures through his chest. He takes a few more gulps before pulling away. Astarion's tongue licks, ensuring no waste of your blood.

As soon as he pulls away from your neck, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth with a quick thrust—the metallic tang of your blood mixes between your mouths. "I'm close," you breathe, running your nose against his. Your panting, feeling like no breath can satisfy your burning lungs.

His thrusts are becoming sloppy, devolving into more grinds of hips. His fingers drag over your clit in tight, fast circles. "Me too," he's just as breathless, hips stuttering with pleasure. "Come for me, darling, let me hear you."

It's like your body was waiting for his honey-slick words to give you permission. Because the moment those words leave his devilish lips, you snap. You scream his name, legs pulling him close.

You didn't expect post-sex cuddles from Astarion, but gods, you could fall in love with this man if you weren't careful. But would that be too bad? To fall in love? You kiss his collarbone and pull your towel over the majority of your body.

With one, two, three more deep thrusts. Astarion comes with a breathy moan spilling deep into your core. You two lay there, tangled in each other's body. Hearts are pounding as you breathe each other's air.

Astarion pulls out and rolls to his back. You curl onto his chest, laying your ear over his silent heart. He plays with your hands and peppers kisses over your hairline.

You wish to stay the night in his arms right here, just having him hold you. But Astarion stiffens slightly when a shiver rolls through your body. It's like the bubble of serenity pops. Astarion is quick to remove himself from you.

"I don't believe cuddling wet and naked with a vampire is good for one's health." He's pulling his clothes on. And reluctantly and with shaky legs, you follow his lead. Astarion is quiet on the walk back, lost in thought. He plays with a coin mindlessly.

You don't push, knowing Astarion better than to pry. So you let him walk you to your tent. And just as you move to duck into your bed for sleep, Astarion grabs your wrist.

You turn and look up into his scarlet eyes. His expression is hard to read; his confusion, hesitancy, affection, and anger are fluidly behind his eyes. They could all fit, but nothing seemed to reflect Astarion's eyes. "I…" He pauses, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. He opens his mouth again but clicks it back close. Astarion searches your eyes as if they held the answer to his unspoken question.

Astarion doesn't seem to find what he's looking for because he shakes his hand—pressing a light kiss to the apple of your cheek. He drops your hand reluctantly. "Have a good night, my dear,"

Then he's gone, leaving you alone, the tingle of his lips still lingering on your skin. Your fingers trail across your cheek, and a small smile stretches your lips. Yeah, you could very easily fall in love with that man. Maybe you already have.

Okay let me know what you thought? I haven't written smut in forever and have never been super confident in it.

If you liked this how about checking out my other two Astarion pieces.

Happy Birthday **** Reoccurring Nightmares

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #reader insert #fanfic #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #smut #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #astarion smut

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avocado-writing · 7 months

Note

Can I request companions + Halsins reactions to a tav who snorts when they laugh really hard and is embarrassed about it so they try to control their laughter as much as possible?

OH i love this one!!

Astarion

oh he is delighted when he first hears you.

will 👏 not 👏 stop 👏 teasing 👏 you 👏

but you know he doesn’t really mean anything by it. if you tease him back about things in return, he thinks it’s all good fun.

eventually becomes quite fond of your laugh. it’s nice to hear something so genuine when he lives a live of exaggeration and attempting to hide his emotions.

begins to smile whenever he hears it.

Gale

so so so so pleased to have made you laugh that hard.

he sees the way you cover your mouth in embarrassment and lets you know that he finds your laugh charming. he can see how flustered that makes you but you seem pleased, too.

goes out of his way to make you chuckle from that point on. more than usual, anyway, and he looks so happy whenever you snort because of him. expect lots of daft puns.

you think maybe you’ve laughed more with Gale than you have for the rest of your life.

Wyll

genuinely taken aback, but doesn’t mean to be rude.

when he sees you’re humiliated by it, he quickly reassures you that there’s nothing wrong with how you laugh, he just didn’t expect it.

you’ve been so solemn on this journey so far, after all — he thought you were just averse to humour, not that you were trying to hide how you sounded!

encourages you to laugh more, not cover up this lovely thing about you. if anyone has anything to say about it?? well your Blade will step in ❤️

Karlach

“oh my GODS I love your laugh!”

she’s so chuffed to hear it properly! you sound so lovely!

her laugh is loud too, big and booming and takes over the whole camp.

she tries to get you to laugh more. if she knows you’re ticklish, she will descend upon you until you’ve lost it, just left in tears.

it’s hard to feel self conscious about it when she’s there, making you so happy!

Lae’zel

also not known for her sense of humour… but something happens to make you laugh one day, and you snort so loudly.

she is so shocked that she starts to laugh too, and it’s such a strange sound! like a croak. you can’t help but giggle in response.

and then the two of you are just there, like you’ve had Hideous Laughter cast on you, losing yourselves at the silliness of the situation, stuck in utter joy at each other’s laughs.

eventually you compose yourselves. she looks you in the eye, wipes away a tear.

“we never speak of this again.”

Shadowheart

giggles when she hears you, then manages to get ahold of yourself.

“sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting… that.”

confesses that she’s unused to much laughter due to her upbringing, so she understands your serious nature.

but, at the same time, encourages you to express your feelings. she knows she’d love to hear you laugh more. she finds it quite sweet, actually.

and if anyone mocks you? well, no heals for them.

Halsin

also overjoyed.

does what he can to bring the sound out of you more. it quickly becomes one of his favourites.

when you confide you’re self-conscious about it, he reassures you:

”my heart, there are many wonderful sounds in nature that perhaps we don’t expect. maybe yours is one of them. it makes it no less beautiful.”

then he turns into a bear and does a forward roll which leaves you in stitches 💕

689 notes · View notes

mentally-a-slut · 3 months

Note

Can I request "You deserve to be loved." For Astarion with female reader please? Please make it smut too!

Thanks so much for the request! I have been super ill, but I managed to get one thing done! I hope this is to your standards, this is my first time writing for Astarion so I hope it's not too out of character. I left Tav pretty neutral, so you should be able to imagine her as anyone. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Remember, please leave feedback! I love to hear your thoughts and it helps motivate me to keep writing.

Rating: E

Warnings: smut, piv sex, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, angst with happy ending, Astarion has a praise kink i don't make the rules, dom!Tav, kinda sub!Astarion, female Tav, likely ooc Astarion, not proofread

It was a calm night, the stillness of the camp blanketing over everyone as the stars glimmered in the darkening sky. Scratch lay idly by Shadowheart, eyes fluttering with the beginnings of sleep as the cleric's hand absentmindedly stroked his head.

Most everyone was already knocked out, the events of the day rendering them useless against the wave of sleep that washed over them. Tav was the only one that couldn't put her mind to rest, thoughts racing behind her eyes as she tried and failed to join her companions in their peaceful oblivion.

At least, she thought she was.

After an hour of fruitless attempts of rest, she abandoned her tent with an aggravated sigh, opting to get some fresh air. When she slipped out of the canvas walls, her eyes fell upon the gleaming silver hair of Astarion, restlessly sitting outside of his tent with his piercing gaze directed at the sky.

She knew that vampire spawn didn't exactly sleep, but Astarion usually went into a trance at night. He said it helped him feel energized in between feedings. A twinge of concern jolted through her, gaze softening as she approached the gloomy spawn.

"Astarion?"

His red eyes quickly cut towards her, his scrutiny heavy on her form.

"Are you alright?"

His gaze flickered with an unreadable emotion for a split second, too quick for her to discern. He hesitated before responding, the familiar too-sweet drawl coating his words. "Quite alright, now that you're here."

Tav's cheeks blazed with a poorly restrained blush at his charming words, and she averted her eyes to the ground between them. She heard his movements before she saw them, the soft brush of his feet brushing the dirt as he rose from his seat.

"I do so love when you blush, so pretty and red."

His cold finger trailed along her jaw, gently prompting her to direct her gaze back to his. She attempted to blink away her flustered state, instead focusing on the handsome elf's face. His sharp features were contorted into his familiar expression of mischief, dark red eyes upholding a look of desire.

Fighting the fog of attraction, she narrowed her eyes at him, searching his practiced expression. He was always a flirt, quick-witted and prone to making her blush, and yet something felt off about him. Something festered beneath his sweetened gaze, almost invisible behind the facade he upheld, but Tav caught a glimpse of it.

One glimpse was all it took for her to step away, brows furrowing as she created distance. His eyes flashed momentarily, a small crinkle of his brows the only sign of his confusion. "What's the matter, darling? Why so shy?"

He attempted to step closer to her, resulting in Tav taking a matching step back. She thought she saw a flicker of hurt before he steadied his expression. "Oh, I see. Don't want to cuddle up to a vampire?"

He turned away from her, already in the motion of retreating to his tent, when Tav shot out her hand and grabbed onto his arm. "That's not it."

He tilted his head to peer at her, teasing smirk already pulling at his lips. His flirtatious remark was cut short when Tav suddenly darted for his tent, hand still firm around his arm. He let her lead him, silver eyebrow raised in curiosity.

The cloth of the tent flaps had barely fallen shut when his cold hands met her waist, pressing her up to him in a way that had Tav's heart beating against her chest. "Eager, are we?"

His breath dusted her cheeks as he held her, seductive gaze steady on her beneath his lashes. Her eyes fought to flutter closed as he leaned in, lips just barely pausing before her lips.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her question was almost quiet enough to miss, but Astarion's grip loosened as he pulled away in shock. "What?"

Tav put a shaky hand to his chest, wanting nothing more than to hold him this close forever. "The flirting. The lingering touches. The stares. Why?"

Silvery brows furrowed, undead hands still idle at her waist. "I didn't take you to be dull. Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

His snark didn't go unnoticed, the same tone he took when someone tried to pry into his business too much. Tav's lips quirked downwards into a frown. "I know what desire looks like. The look you gave me back there was a decent imitation of it, but I saw through it. Why pine after me if you do not truly desire me?"

Tav tried not to let her disappointment show at his loss of touch as he dropped his hands from her waist and stepped back. "I don't know what you mean. I do desire you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms across her chest as she gave him a withering look. "I don't much like being lied to, Astarion. Nor do I like to be led on."

A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, almost quick enough to miss. "You're a clever one. Fine then, I confess. I needed safe passage to the city, and the only way to get it was to seduce you into providing it for me."

Her heart seized in her chest at his words, hurt and betrayal curdling in her stomach. "Do you truly think so little of me?"

His previously avoidant gaze shot towards her when her voice cracked with emotion. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

She struggled to keep her composure through her next words. "Seduction was not the only way. I would have aided you no matter what, romantic feeling or not. I do not need anything in return. I would have helped you. I would have- I do care for you. There are no strings attached unless you wish there to be."

She recoiled from his hand as it reached out towards her. Tears now steadily falling down her cheeks, she continued with shaky words. "And I will still help you, even though you have hurt me. Even though you have made me think there was something... I thought you liked me. I really thought we could have," she heaved a sob between her words, "Why did you have to make me fall in love with you?"

Her eyes avoided his, tears rushing down her face as she hung her head down. If he had a beating heart, he was sure it would be hammering against him.

"You... Love?"

She hid her face in her hands as she cried, granting him a small nod.

"Tav, I..."

"Don't. Just... I'm sorry for thinking you returned my feelings. I don't expect anything from you, and you're still welcome to stay with us."

She turned to leave, eyes burning with emotion, when his cold hand gripped her shoulder. She froze, holding her breathe in case any movement would scare him away.

"Tav, please don't go."

His voice was timid, a broken sort of tone that she could never dream of him carrying. She chance a movement, turning her head to peek at him. His eyes were watering, sincerity pooling in the blood red of his gaze.

"I... It wasn't fake."

A stuttered breath as Tav turned to face him, tear stained face contorted into an expression of dread, fearing he was playing a cruel joke on her. "What?"

"The feelings, the flirting... I admit, at first it was purely self-preservation, but..." he gently trailed his hand down from her shoulder to her wrist, "you... you enraptured me."

"Astarion, you don't have to-"

"I mean it. This isn't me trying to use you, I'm not just doing this as an apology, I truly mean it. I fell for you, and it terrifies me."

She turned her wrist in his grip, staring down at his hand as she maneuvered hers to fit against his. "You love me?"

She stepped forward, bringing a hesitant hand to his face. His brows furrowed as he nodded slightly, almost like it pained him to admit it. Slowly, she moved closer, giving him time to recoil. When he leaned in, she fluttered her eyes closed and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

His other hand went to her face, delicate fingers stroking her cheekbone as they kissed. There was no desperation, only gentle passion as they melded together, pouring all words unsaid into their embrace. When Tav pulled away, Astarion sighed and chased after her lips, only stopped by her firm hand on his chest.

"You don't need to do anything you don't want to do. I'm alright with not sleeping together. You don't owe me anything."

His pupils swallowed up the red of his eyes as he whined, true desire swirling in his gaze. "You saying that only makes me want you more."

Tav hummed in surprise as he pulled her lips back against his, fingers tangling in her hair as he hungrily devoured her lips. His free hand snaked around her, palm pressing firmly into her lower back and arching her into him. Tav sighed into him, pulling away from his lips to murmur, "are you sure?"

"Never been surer, darling."

She stopped his approach, giving him a sultry look as he pulled her even closer against him. "Alright, but we're doing this my way."

He raised a brow, his teasing smirk sending a jolt of arousal down her spine. "Oh, yeah? And what did you have in mind?"

She pressed a soft kiss against his lips, admiration flooding her eyes. "You let me do the work." She tutted against his lips as he started to protest. "Please, Astarion, let me take care of you. You deserve to be loved."

His resolve completely vanished at that, and he pulled her back for another desperate kiss. Tav's core burned with each sound from his lips, whines and moans vibrating against her lips. She pushed him towards his bedroll without breaking the kiss, giving a pleased hum when he obeyed.

She sank down with him, straddling his lap as he sat. His fingers fought with the hem of her shirt, insistently tugging as he whined against her lips. She smiled and pulled away, chuckling as he tried to chase her lips. "Use your words, love."

"You're a tease," he all but whined, hands still itching to rid her of her top.

She answered him with only a stern look, pulling his hands from her waist. He groaned in frustration, pride a little more than hurt as she coaxed him to obey. "Take it off. Please."

"Good boy," she teased, all too aware of the growing bulge her words caused. His hands wasted no time in exploring the skin of her exposed stomach as she peeled away her shirt, tossing it over her shoulder. He sat up to capture her lips, firm hands desperately trying to gain control.

His fingers dug into her waist as she rolled her hips down against his, eliciting a groan from him. She rolled her hips again, pressing harder against his prominent arousal. His hands frantically trailed across her skin, gripping her ass as she grinded once again.

Her core grew hotter as he moaned against her, and she pressed kissed down his jaw and neck as she began to tug at his shirt. She pulled back to look at him, holding back a moan as he rutted against her. "This okay?"

"Yes, yes, it's okay," he whined, breathless as he pressed himself between her legs. She discarded his shirt, continuing to press hot kisses down his neck and chest. She pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back to lay down. She held her hip up away from his, grinning at his frustrated groan.

"Be patient," she warned, trailing a finger down his torso and teasing the waistband of his pants.

His hand found the clasp of her bra, fingers restlessly fidgeting against it as he looked up at her for permission. She nodded with a smile, and his swift fingers released the garment within seconds. He groaned as her breasts were exposed, bringing a hand up to one and flicking a thumb across her nipple. She faltered for a moment, hips rutting down on his as his hands teased her chest. "So gorgeous, darling, perfect."

She felt silly for blushing at his words, the simple compliment turning her insides to jelly even as they were half naked. He smirked and pulled her down to him, pressing his tongue against her lips and sighing at the feel of her chest against his. Tav snaked a hand between them, delicate fingers brushing against his length. His responding moan send shivers down her spine, encouraging her to press her fingers against him harder.

He rutted against her hand, grabbing any part of her he could reach. He pulled away enough to whine out a "please," and Tav swiftly unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them off. His hardened length strained against his underwear, a growing damp spot evidence of his desire.

He whined as she pressed her palm against him, and he grabbed her wrist to still her movements. She glanced up at him, concern in her face. He panted, shifting involuntarily to try and gain friction. "As much as I love what your doing," he trailed his other hand up her thigh, coming to a stop at the waistband of her pants, "I want to taste you. Please."

Tav couldn't stop the whine that fell from her lips, his words sending an entire new wave of desire through her. She nodded, moving to help him remove her pants. Once she was fully bare above him, his eyes burned with lust as he stared at her glistening cunt. Tav didn't have any time to be insecure before his hands gripped her waist and tugged her up his body, settling her spread legs just above his lips.

He quirked a brow at her, silently asking permission. His breath tickled her folds, making her groan with her words. "Oh, fuck, yes."

His hands gripped her ass firmly as he pulled her core down against his lips, his tongue immediately flicking against her swollen clit and teasing her entrance. She threw her head back with a moan and tangled her fingers in his hair, involuntarily rutting against his mouth.

His tongue was quick, flitting between her clit and dipping into her core with precision. She half worried that she would suffocate him with her thighs before she remembered that he was undead.

Tav swore as his lips closed around her clit, sucking harshly and sending her eyes into the back of her head. Her muscles tensed as he lapped at her, core tightening as he brought her closer to the edge.

"Fuck, just like that! I'm gonna-"

He hummed against her, sending vibrations through her core and pushing her over the edge. He didn't pull away until came down from her high, tongue coaxing her through it.

With a sigh, Tav adjusted herself back to where she was, leaning down to kiss him and sighing when she tasted herself on his lips. "You taste delightful," he muttered between kisses.

His cock throbbed beneath the restraint of his underwear, and Tav couldn't help but roll her hips against him. "Don't tease me, darling."

She did it again, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Do you want this?"

"More than anything."

She smiled at him, one of pure admiration, and then hastily rid him of his underwear. He sighed when her core brushed against his painfully hard cock, tightening his hold on her waist. She leaned down to peck him on the lips before lifting her hips, stroking him teasingly as she lined them up.

With one last look of confirmation, she pressed her cunt against his tip, her tight hole swallowing him torturously slow. His gaze was heavy on their joined bodies, fingers digging into her waist as he groaned.

The stretch was pleasant, brushing against her walls as she slowly lowered onto him. She sighed as her clit brushed against her pelvis, his cock now fully sheathed inside of her. She stilled for a moment, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

The movement shifted them slightly, making him groan against her lips. She smirked, lifting her hips slowly. With a hand on his chest to steady herself, she sent him a cheeky wink and sank back down. His eyes darted all over her body as she rode him, watching her tits bounce, staring as her cunt swallowed him up. "You feel so good, filling me up," she whined, thrusts getting faster.

His moans grew louder at her praise, hands pressing tighter against her hips and guiding her down against him. "Such a good boy, letting me ride you."

He sat up, pulling her against him and matching her thrusts. He whined, pressing sloppy kisses against her throat as he rutted into her. "Please, feels so good," he whined, fangs brushing the delicate skin of her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing him into her neck.

"So, so good for me, such a good boy," she moaned, thrusts becoming rougher, "you wanna cum inside me?"

He groaned, cock twitching inside her as she tightened around him. "Please, please, so close, I'm so close-"

"Bite me," she whispered, "c'mon baby, cum inside me while you sink your teeth into my neck."

His orgasm crashed over him just as he sank his fangs into her, the sweet tang of her blood coaxing forward his release. She soon followed, moaning as he painted her walls and drank his fill.

He pulled away from her neck, pressing his lips against hers and smearing her blood into her mouth. She whined into the kiss, cunt clenching with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

He pulled back, eyes swimming with emotion as he studied her face, their sweating bodies clinging together. "I love you."

She smiled before kissing him softly. "I love you too."

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dancingbirdie · 1 year

Note

hi! can I request Astarion x Tav where Tav is crying (same innocent type Tav from your last fic) and Astarion has to comfort them? (like after his confession scene in act 2 but before his final quest please?) tysm for your time!

Ask and you shall receive, my dear anon! Although a word of warning: this fic has a lot of fluff and a whole lot of angst. Also damn I really explored some of my own shit in this fic and am feeling very vulnerable but also very good. PLEASE PAY ATTENTION TO THE WARNINGS/TAGS BEFORE READING <3

If I could nominate a song that inspired this writing, it would be "When The Lights Go Out" by Gabrielle Aplin.

The Dark Sun

Word Count: 1.6K

Rating: Teen

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of death, grief/trauma response to death of loved ones, mentions of blood, emotional pain, hurt & comfort, FLUFF, ANGST, non-sexual comfort, Astarion x GN!Tav, Minor Act 2 spoilers.

None of the others had ever seen Tav like this. They weren’t about to let anyone see them in this state now. After all, Tav was the sunshine of their party. Sunshine had one job; it was in its very name.

It isn’t true. It isn’t! Get away from me. Go!

Sitting in their tent, as far away from the other party members as safely possible, Tav was powerless to stop the replaying of Arabella’s words over, and over, and over, in their mind. They saw in their mind’s eye the maelstrom of emotions that had played across the young tiefling’s face when Tav gently broke the news that her mother and father had been killed. Shock. Anguish. Disbelief. Rage. Despair. Resentment.

Tav knew those feelings well. They had felt them before. They still felt the echoes of them, even now, so many years after the death of their own parents. Tav had been so like Arabella in their youth. They had recognized a kinship with the tiefling as soon as they met her in the Emerald Grove. To be the one who ushered in those emotions for someone so young and so full of unbridled joy - it was a cruel irony. To be that bearer of such unspeakable news, to a mere child.

Though Tav knew that time would eventually take the immediate sting from this news, they also knew from their own experience that Arabella would forever be scarred. Even before she was aware, the world had been violently reforming beneath her feet. Life would never be as it once was. And the knowledge that they would forever be intertwined with Arabella’s memory of losing her parents, even if those deaths had not come at their hands, felt like opening the fissure in their heart all over again and injecting acid throughout its crevices.

The reality of it all had Tav doubled over, sobbing into their hands in a feeble attempt at hiding their pain from the rest of the camp. None of the others had ever seen Tav like this. They weren’t about to let anyone see them in this state now. After all, Tav was the sunshine of their party. Sunshine had one job; it was in its very name.

Most of the time, Tav didn’t mind being that cheery glue that held people together. It was a role that was helpful to others, and they had performed it very well throughout their life. It also had the added benefit of distracting Tav from hosts of problems that were better left in the far corners of their mind. Seeing them like this, in this state of despair? It would topple the whole façade. And given where they were, in a bleak forest of darkness, fumbling through perpetual night, Tav knew the party needed sunshine more than ever before if they had any prayer of making it through this area alive.

So, no, Tav resolved to work through this pain in solitude. They had done so before. They could do it again.

***

The Shadow-Cursed Lands were not exactly an Eden for animals that could quell Astarion’s thirst. Most of the beasts were either blighted or dead. Given this, Astarion had purchased an ox and some boar from the Harpers at the Last Light Inn for the express purpose of draining their blood and storing it in vials he could consume along the way. Gale had come up with a handy little spell to keep the containers cool and prevent the blood from spoiling. He estimated that those reserves, coupled with Tav’s generosity of allowing him to feed off them, would be enough to keep him stable for several more days.

He heard the sound as he was exiting his tent to retrieve a vial of ox blood from the camp supplies.

Muffled choking sounds. Someone was…crying? He piqued his ears, concentrating to locate the direction from which they came.

Tav’s tent. He was sure of it.

Pitched as far away from the others as possible, Astarion had thought it odd earlier in the evening that Tav had positioned themselves so far away from everyone, including himself. Normally, they rested at the dead center of the camp, where they could easily chatter and joke with the rest of the party. But, given his own proclivity for solitude, he hadn’t pondered it further, assuming Tav had just needed some quality time to themselves.

Hearing their quiet sobs now, in the middle of the night, Astarion could have kicked himself for not realizing sooner that something was wrong.

Though he had confessed his feelings several days ago and found them wholeheartedly reciprocated, his new… status… with Tav felt like learning a new language. A language with an alphabet wholly different than anything he had ever known. He certainly wasn’t fluent yet. He wasn’t even sure if his ability to… speak it, per se… was passable. But, if for nothing else, he was grateful to Tav for their patience and understanding as he navigated this entirely foreign situation. They never asked for anything more than he was willing to give, and that empathy continued to compel him to try. For himself. For Tav. For their future prospects.

Of course, knowing all of this made Astarion feel all the more worse for failing to intuit Tav’s emotional state. They were not exactly a closed book. Had he not have fallen back on old ways of thinking and processing people’s behavior, he likely could have recognized the signs of Tav’s distress. But 200 years of habits and mindset was hard to break. He could hear Tav’s voice in his head, gently reminding him to be patient with himself, to afford himself grace.

They were always giving him the space to be vulnerable. This time, he wanted to try providing them with the same assurance.

Astarion quietly padded over to Tav’s tent and cleared his throat in a somewhat awkward attempt at announcing his presence.

Immediately, the sobbing ceased. “Um, just a moment!” came Tav’s watery reply.

Astarion listened carefully to Tav’s quiet sniffles and movements about the tent. He assumed they were quickly trying to right themselves, slip that cheery mask they wore so well back on. The thought broke his heart.

“Tav, darling, can I come in?” he asked softly so that their fellow party members would not be able to hear.

“Oh sure, are you thirsty? I was just lying down… resting,” Tav added lamely before finally poking their head out from between the tent flaps. They gave him a tiny smile, a weak attempt at normalcy, before pulling back and making room for him to enter.

Astarion seated himself across from Tav, who began rearranging their pillows and preparing for what they assumed to be another feeding session. He took in their ruddy cheeks, their tearstained eyes, swollen from crying so much. Tentatively, the movement still so foreign but becoming more familiar, he reached out a hand to cup their cheek.

Tav stilled at his touch, sucking in a breath. He watched as tears began welling in their eyes.

“Darling, you don’t need to hide your pain from me,” he gently intoned.

Tav gave a breathless laugh, traitorous tears leaking down their face.

“I didn’t want any of you to see me like this. Especially you,” they warbled, sniffling.

“And why ever not?”

“I’m ‘Tav The Sunshine,’ remember?” they said with a self-deprecating grin. “The sun only ever shines on us. That’s its job.”

“But the sun isn’t always shining,” Astarion reminded them softly. “Times of darkness are allowed.”

Tav released a quiet sob. “I don’t… w-want you to see that darkness. It’s too much… I… I can’t-”

Seeing Tav fall apart before his eyes, so broken and disconsolate, the urge to take them in his arms felt like second nature. Not a foreign language at all, not a struggle to initiate a touch. Astarion couldn’t explain it; his subconscious had known how to respond and barreled through all those years of self-loathing, manipulation, and disgust to reach out for Tav. Quick as a flash but so very gently, he pulled them into an embrace, maneuvering them so they sat cradled in his lap, their arms wrapped around shoulders.

“My sweet, sweet Tav,” Astarion crooned as they cried into his shoulder, tears quickly dampening his nightshirt. He raised one hand to push back the locks obscuring their face and softly caressed their cheek.

“I want to tell you something,” he continued. “And I want you to truly listen... I’ve walked in darkness for over 200 years. Mostly alone. Committing depraved acts against others in the service of a master who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end… There is nothing - nothing - in your darkness that could scare me away. I swear it.”

Tav raised their head to look at him. Slowly - as one would approach a wild animal - they raised their hand and kept it hovering right beside Astarion’s face.

That Tav would still be thinking of his comfort, even in their abject sadness, unleashed a powerful wave of… some strong emotion in him.

Is that love? Is that what it feels like? He thought.

He couldn’t be sure. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Acknowledging their silent request for consent, Astarion pushed his cheek into their hand. He turned his face for a moment to kiss their palm. He felt Tav shudder in his arms.

“You’ve already borne so much sorrow in your long life, Astarion,” they whispered. “You deserve lightness and levity from your partner.”

“And you have given me that every day since we met, darling,” he returned, carding his fingers through Tav’s hair. “But we also agreed to share something real between us. That isn’t possible if you hide a part of yourself away. You deserve space for light and darkness inside yourself, Tav.”

They sat in silence for some time, Astarion allowing Tav to empty their tears onto his chest, until they were finally calmed.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Tav finally sniffled.

“Shh, shh. There’s no space for apologies here, love. But, there is space to share your pain. And I’ll carry it with you, as you do for me,” Astarion promised.

And in that quiet night, in the heart of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, Tav opened their darkness to Astarion.

And he was not afraid.

#dancingbirdiewrites #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur's gate fanfiction

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meanbossart · 8 months

Note

I appreciate how you write Astarion so, SO much. I feel like way too many fic writers infantilize him to a point where I honestly start wondering if I'm the one who misinterpreted him so badly.

I'd love to know more about what you think of his character and his arc. Personally I saw him and immediately went "oh god this guy is gonna be the irritating tumblr sexyman of the year🙄" and it took me until Araj basically to warm up to him. What were your initial thoughts and did they change much while playing the game?

OH thank you so much!!! That's a shame if it's the case, and a little surprising to me, to be honest! While he's definitely written be an aloof jerk a lot of the time, I always found him to be surprisingly mature and introspective whenever he's not dishing out witty remarks. He comes off to me as the kind of person who learned to benefit from seeming dumber than he actually is, overall.

HAHA I had a VERY similar experience, not just towards Astarion but all the characters, really (I really disliked Shadowheart at the beginning, too). I had only seen pictures of him and pretty much expected a vapid character that was being carried to stardom because of a talented VA - and because people go nuts for anne rice style vampires lol.

While I was definitely enjoying his voice lines from the start (Again kudos to Neil) I definitely wasn't expecting much else. He piqued my interest after so devastatingly turning my character down at the tiefling party without me even having inquired, and that's when I, the gamer, was like "well, alright, I GOTTA fuck this guy now" (this is also where DU drow's personality began to come out as you can probably guess)

Obviously, if you have two neurons to rub together you can gather pretty quickly that he's not trying to woo you because you're so interesting and wonderful, so I started getting curious! With that dynamic being so different from what you usually expect of romances in these types of games, plus the charming way in which he is written, I started being won over.

I think what really did it was how gradually his attitude changed when responding to new, mostly trivial dialogue options and doing his greetings as you earned his trust, and ESPECIALLY with how he responds to your tav when you express any kind of fear or insecurity during his romance - which was with a lot of sincerity and confidence in his resolve to support you, and in you as a person, a complete 180 from his usual front - Which, again, makes me all the more surprised to hear that he's often painted with such an immature brush.

And obviously he has a DEEPLY ugly side to him (if you've read ANE, hopefully it's clear that I know this, and that I like to explore it just as much as anything else lmao) but it's very interesting to me how it seem to always come in the form of outbursts, rather than a constant evil-streak, usually followed by a glimpse of self-awareness. It feels very much in line with someone who's actually making a great deal of effort to manage their RAMPANT emotions and going through a lot of internal conflict in the process.

GAH. Yeah if you can't tell by this friggin' thesis I just wrote, I love the way they wrote this character a lot and I was definitely proven PROFOUNDLY wrong in my first impression of him - which, if that's not irony at it's finest I don't know what is.

And as an aside! I also very much appreciate that he's a "queer" coded character who's effeminate (in the Old Homo kind of way, but I digress) and flamboyant, but taken Dead Fucking Seriously. With as much progress as we've made in LGBT rep in media, I still often feel like gay men will only get that kind of treatment for as long as they "Aren't That Gay" (I know Astarion doesn't have a set sexuality - But lets not mince words: stereotypes exist, and he fits into most of them) and as a thin-wristed gay guy who's a little too found of linen shirts, I can honestly say that experiencing a character like that helped me with my own confidence.

#ask #astarion #bg3 spoilers

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donat-senpai · 6 months

Text

This work lay in drafts for a very long time. Now I have translated everything. Woohoo! (Reminder: English is not my native language. There are mistakes here)

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! Pairing: Yandere! Ketheric Thorm x Reader, Yandere! Enver Gortash x Reader, Yandere! Orin the Red x Reader tw: platonic obsession, manipulation, restriction of freedom, mention of murders

I'm ready to throw an idea at you. Attention. You get into the bg3. BUT you aren't Tav and you aren't together with Tav. You find yourself among the Chosen Three. And they become platonic yandere!

Ketheric Thorm, Enver Gortash and Orin the Red will know that you know about their future. You know how to achieve certain events, as well as how to prevent it. Keeping you close is not only a necessary measure, but also an advantage. From now on, they must do everything to prevent Tav from finding out about you and taking you away.

You spend the least amount of time with Ketheric Thorm. As the leader of the army, he is always in the most dangerous places of the war. Besides, the Moonrise Towers are a dangerous place. There are a lot of killers there. You are usually in full view of Ketheric. Over time, you begin to get used to it. Ketheric listens, but often doesn't pay attention. You can tell him anything. At this time he goes about his business, sometimes nodding to you. But if you suddenly ask him a question, he will simply look at you menacingly, making you afraid. The old man is not angry. He just didn't remember anything you said and doesn't want to admit it. Your voice helps him not to worry. If you're still talking, it means you haven't been eaten. Therefore, he can continue his business. When you leave the Moonrise Towers, Ketheric looks with bitterness at the things you leave behind. It reminds him of the times when he was still a father. Perhaps he will put your drawing or note in one of his books.

Orin will become friend or foe depending on your decision. If you refuse to help them, She will find ways to make you talk. Her ideas about the world are very perverted, so friendship with Orin barely differs from enmity. She will take great pleasure in fooling around with you. She likes to scare you by telling you colorful ways of killing you. You will probably not be able to make friends because of her. It's hard to trust someone and tell your secrets when that someone could be Orin herself. She will need time to convince Gortash and Ketheric to allow you to visit the Bhaal’s Temple. They don't trust Orin. The more disgusted you are by the atmosphere of her temple, the more fun she will experience. In the depths of his bedroom, Orin will get a little soft. She will let you play with her hair. And she will talk about the teachings of Bhaal, but not with the intention of scaring, but with the desire to share something hidden for her. She will also want to teach you how to make a sacrifice to her god correctly. If you refuse, she will be upset, but will not insist. (Gortash made it clear to her that she should not break you.) Then she brings you back and avoids you for a week or two. It's new for her to feel this way. Not even her family received this honor. When she calms down and copes with unusual emotions, she will visit you again. And she will promise to kill you in the most beautiful way possible when necessary. It's not a threat. This is her expression of love.

It is with Lord Gortash that you spend the most time. His castle is safe, and the Steel Watchers walk around the city everywhere. You are well dressed and always look great to match him. High society is asking questions about who you are to him. Are you a lover, relative, decoration or pet? Only you and Gortash know that you are a means to achieve his goals. And only Lord Gortash knows that you are someone he has grown more attached to than he should have. He gives you almost anything you want, but expects you to cooperate in return. In addition, Gortash believes that just looking beautiful next to him is not enough. Therefore, all your free time (which is not much) will be occupied with training. If you escape from the castle (which is absolutely impossible), the guards will bring you back. Gortash is perhaps the only one among the owners of three stones who understands that your usefulness is not constant. Everything can go along the route you know with minor changes in his favor. Or it may happen that what is happening will become completely new even for you. Sometimes he jokes that he will throw you out when you become useless. But you still remember how Lord Gortash got angry at the impudent Count for asking to take you as his wife and Gortash ordered the insolent man to be executed.

----

Somewhere in the universe, the Emperor turns the table in a rage and demands Tav to quickly find and save (kidnap) you. (I don't know how he found out about you ._.)

----

Tav sighs tiredly and silently agrees. They're too tired of all. They just hope that their new future ally will be a little less problematic than everyone else in the camp.

#yandere x reader #yandere bg3 #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #orin x reader #Ketheric Thorm x reader #Gortash x reader

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brain-rot-central · 5 days

Text

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 9

A/N: *YELLS "GOOD LUCK, BABE!" FROM THE ROOFTOPS*

WE MADE IT TO THE GALA, HOLY SHIT

Thank you to every single person that has liked, commented, sent anons, or showed any kind of support in any form for this silly little story. These last two months have been some of the shittiest of my life and I'm so happy be here with ya'll. I love you all so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Rating: Explicit (due to the themes, really. No smut this chapter.) Word count: 9.9k (I love you guys SO MUCH I'M SORRY)

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named)

Warnings: 18+, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, pregnancy, implied alcohol abuse, trauma, past abuse, PTSD themes, depictions of physical abuse, unhealthy relationship, death mention, depictions of murder and gore

Summary: It's the night of Wyll's charity event. Will Tav receive the answers she seeks from the Duke, or will more present themselves?

♥ Previous Chapter

♥ Link to Ao3

♥ Playlist

They descend the master staircase, Tav drawing in a shallow breath as she hits the final step. As they turn the corner, arm in arm, she realizes how unsettled she is. Astarion was so close to saying it. Admitting to what they both know to be true, only to tear himself away at the last moment.

Her throat feels tight as she tries to swallow. Should he have said it, there's no doubt in her mind as to how the night would end up. Possessed by the urge to say it back, over and over, spending half the evening wrapped in each other's arms, making up for lost time. She'd guide his hands to her stomach, foreheads pressed together, and speak softly against his lips of what lay within. Of what will be, soon enough.

None of that will happen, now.

The thick aroma of the hors d’oeuvres being served wafts through the air, pulling Tav from her thoughts. The subtle sweetness of wine is complementary, surely free-flowing like waterfalls into the mouths and bellies of those gathered within the grand hall. She can hear muffled chatter from within the ballroom, along with the occasional clinking of glasses. Drawing in a breath, Tav dares herself to stare ahead.

Astarion turns to her, and she catches him from the corner of her eye. But as Tav raises her head to meet him, he quickly adverts his gaze. He’s silent for some time beside her, save for a conveniently timed clearing of his throat. Finally, he asks, “Are you ready, my dear?” Although he continues facing forward, Tav catches stolen glances from his periphery.

She's still so very raw from their earlier bout, and the booming depth of Astarion's voice causes a shiver to run down her spine. Despite its seriousness, Tav can hear the concern laced within his tone. Her body jerks involuntarily as her nerves alight. “Yes,” Tav replies, forcing a smile to materialize on her face. She now dares herself to look upon him.

Astarion simply grunts in acknowledgement, refusing to meet her. He can't even look at me, now? she ponders to herself. A pit forms in her stomach, alongside a sharp cramp that leaves her wincing. She rests her free hand over her lower abdomen, closing her eyes as she draws another breath through her nose. Pursing her lips together, Tav breathes out. The tension pitted high within her chest unravels as the breath leaves her lungs.

But when she looks at Astarion again, she's awash with emotion once more. His jaw is taught with tension, threatening to snap. There’s a sheen over the reds of his irises, highlighted by the dull light of the candelabras lining the hallway. Tav knows this look. And as much as she'd like to blame the drink that lay heavy on his breath, she knows that isn't the only cause.

He looks far away.

Astarion only wears a distant expression when he's desperate to remove himself from the current. When his mind is elsewhere, shielding him. Protecting him until it’s safe to come back out. As if a switch has been flipped – the mask of the entertainer, the people pleaser, is falling into place. The actor is almost stage ready. To give the people what they came here to see.

The dissociation is taking root.

He's uncomfortable. Tav’s entire body shakes from the realization. What's worse is that he's forcing himself to do this. Putting himself on display for everyone, strutting around like some proud peacock for all to fawn over. Astarion once told her that a handsomely crafted face can open any number of doors. She wonders how many times he’s been forced into opening those doors. What prizes lay behind them.

Tav shutters again at the thought of all he's been made to endure. A deep ache settles within her chest, her gaze falling to the floor in front of her.

It's obvious now that Astarion was hoping for a better outcome to their earlier discussion. Perhaps a kiss or two, maybe even something more. Anything to help soothe the ache within him, knowing he was sending himself out to perform. Instead, he got the complete opposite – Tav backing him into a corner, pushing him to admit something he clearly isn't ready to share.

Doubt begins to rear its ugly head within Tav’s heart.

Maybe she should have gone easier on him. His history is complicated. Of that, she knows. There are things Astarion doesn't understand due to two centuries of indentured servitude, like emotion, and how to coexist alongside another. Perhaps she should have been more patient with him. Perhaps she shouldn't be so demanding of him. He’s trying, afterall. Isn’t he?

Her heart skips heavy in her chest – a defiant thud, then a pause before resuming its normal rhythm. Pressure mounts once more and she suddenly finds herself choking back tears as her vision clouds.

No, Tav reassures herself, screwing her eyes shut.

Astarion isn’t an innocent child needing protection behind her skirts. He’s taken lives – many, to be frank. He, himself, has died. He understands the delicate balance between the life before and thereafter, better than any mortal being could ever dream to. When Tav reopens her eyes, she lifts her head and looks straight in the direction of the ballroom. All sound drowns out from her ears. She clenches her jaw.

I deserve more. He should be more.

It's been a process, learning to give herself the grace to truly feel. Tavaria has taken the lives of so many people without second thought. Faces that are no more than blurs behind her mind’s eye, barely able to decipher one from the other. All she recalls is the incessant chanting within her mind. Scleteras’s shrill voice echoing, encouraging her to kill, kill, kill. The voices only grew louder when she found the others. Daydreams of what pretty corpses they'd make.

Especially Astarion.

She'd gotten close, one night. Did her best to warn him before the urge took her completely. All Tav remembers is writhing against her restraints as Astarion looked on. Concern clouded his visage, mixed with the smallest drop of fear. Visions danced behind her eyes, of how beautiful his flesh would look laid out within the palm of her hand as she fileted it clean off his bones. How delicious his blood would taste on her tongue. Would it run hot, she wondered? Smell of rot and decay? She'd bathe herself with his entrails, feeling impossibly close to him, but not before successfully copulating with him. A high offering to her Father, securing the next generation of cursed Bhaalspawn.

Bhaal must be furious, looking upon her now.

But that was all months ago, and she rejected her birthright. Refused to be her Father’s vessel of chaos and murder. The day she turned her back on him is the day Tavaria chose life. And to her surprise, the chanting stopped. The urge stopped. She could breathe for the first time in what was likely years.

Since then, Tav has tried her best to walk the path of redemption. She can never bring back those who have fallen victim to her sins. The young tielfing bard’s face haunts her daily, smashed beyond recognition. But she's vowed to do better with however much life she has left. To be kinder. Show the compassion she was never given to others.

She’s chosen to be a good person. That should be reason enough as to why she deserves to hear him say it. To hear from his own mouth that he loves her and not have it be a figment of her imagination.

And it's perfectly fine that she does. There's no reason to feel guilt for wanting what you deserve.

At this very moment, Tav stands next to a man that feels more like a stranger to her than ever before, all while their child grows within her. A man who wears the same face of the one she loves, yet acts so foreign to her.

She deserves to be loved in a way that is befitting of her, and she will not settle for anything less than what she deserves.

Without so much as another word, Astarion steps forward. Tav follows almost seamlessly, their arms still interlocked. They cross the threshold into the ballroom and are immediately greeted by copious pairs of prying eyes, all focused on them. Music swells from the band as they travel to the middle of the room, neither of them missing a step.

As Tav looks out into the crowd, she recognizes a few faces from her short tenure in the City Watch – noblemen and ladies all dressed in their evening best. Their silk dresses and velvet frock coats are dyed in various elaborate colors and patterns. Jewelry adorned with precious gems hangs plentiful from their ears and necks. She nods and smiles as she passes, catching more than a few people ducking their heads after making brief eye contact. Their lips move in silent chatter to one another, but Tav can imagine their conversations: one of Baldur Gate's most eligible bachelors arriving arm-in-arm with the city's hero. The same hero who left him at the moment of their triumph.

How terribly poetic.

The band suddenly cuts out as they reach the middle of the room. Astarion retrieves his arm from around hers rather swiftly, and Tav steps back. The vampire takes a quick breath, wiping his head up. Applause rings out as he then turns to address the crowd. Astarion bows repeatedly, each time in a new direction, the reception growing louder. Tav again surveys all in attendance and decides to clap in tandem, all the while retaining her best face.

The vampire lord then raises a hand – a gesture to signal the quieting of the crowd – and the applause slowly dies off. A smile is etched across his face, but it isn't his usual smile. Not the one he reserves for her. Tav shivers.

“Thank you all for such a warm introduction!” Astarion exclaims, boisterously. His open-mouthed smile stretches now across his face from ear to ear, the tips of his fangs gleaming in the light.

Do they know of his true nature? Tav wonders as his teeth catch her eye. It's a question that hasn't dawned on her before this moment. He’s not necessarily trying to hide it. Many in the city knew of Cazador, but only as an aristocrat, bred from a long line of wealth. If they do know the truth about Astarion, it doesn't seem to bother anyone much.

Tavaria again looks out among the crowd, studying them intently. Many of the ladies have fans covering their faces, though the ones who do not, Tav easily catches the barest glint of a blush sitting upon their cheeks as they watch Astarion swish about the floor. A single thread of what must be jealousy pulls tightly within her. It fades as quickly as it comes, dissolving into vapor as she releases the breath she’s holding.

Signs of Astarion's vampirism are so obvious to her, now that she's looking at him. Pointed fangs just peeking over his bottom lip as he smiles, ruby red eyes that glimmer in the light of the chandeliers, Cazador's bite scarred into the column of his throat. His complexion used to be ghastly, like that of one raised from the dead. But since the ritual, he's as pink as any mortal being. He blushes, even.

And, gods, is he handsome. More so than any other man in existence. The sharp lines of his face, the subtle bump along the bridge of his nose. Tavaria understands all too well why the women, and even some of the men in attendance, look upon Astarion with such hungered stares.

Astarion clasps his hands together. He turns again to the crowd and says, “I'm sure we all know why we're here tonight, yes?” He gives them a moment to murmur an audible response before continuing, “And, no, unfortunately it's not just for my handsome face.” The room erupts into laughter. The vampire then raises a sharp brow, mouth curling into a sly smirk.

A horrid realization comes over Tav: These people could easily be sacrificial lambs, ripe for Astarion's picking. And he knows it. Worse yet, loves it. Loves having fools wrapped around his finger.

This is Vampire Lord Astarion, the entertainer. The socialite. The deceitful. Pulling from his past life as an at-will aristocrat; as many times as his master made him perform. It's such a well-practiced act that Tav can hardly tell when her Astarion ceased and this version took over. The transition occurred seamlessly right before her eyes. And if she didn’t know him better, she’d be thoroughly convinced that this is what he truly consists of. Tav watches in awe as Astarion flits across the floor, continuing to address all before him. Not a drop of worry remains present on his face, his countenance bright and inviting.

It makes her gravely uneasy.

He lets the room swell for a moment, continuing his speech once it dies back again. “My dearest Lords and Ladies,” Astarion’s tone sends another shock wave down Tav’s spine. He speaks with the same sweetened vitriol as when they first met. Bile builds near the back of her throat, her mouth turning bitter.

“We come together tonight to celebrate one man who surely gets the job done,” the vampire continues. Astarion looks out into the crowd, lifting a hand to wave one finger. Tav follows his eyes. “One man, who puts honor and duty before all else.” Suddenly, he halts, having found his intended target, and he extends his hand. And as Tav traces his arm, she finds the man in question on the other end.

“Esteemed guests,” Astarion boasts, “it is with great honor that I introduce our man of the hour.” Astarion hesitates for a moment, the room eerily silent. He glances toward Tav; her breath hitches. She can see the contempt within his eyes, but he continues, loud and prideful. “Wyllyam Ravengard, your Grand Duke!”

Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd. Wyll, surrounded by the other members of the Watch, tilts his head politely in acknowledgement, giving several small bows. Servants then descend upon the guests, holding silver trays lined with glasses of sparkling liquid.

“And as such,” Astarion says, choosing a glass off the tray a servant presents to him, “may I propose a toast to our young Duke, who does oh so very much for his belovéd city.”

Tav retrieves a glass from a servant, giving the contents a quick whiff. Champagne, and a damned good one, too. Astarion then holds out his glass, those in attendance following suit. Silence befalls the ballroom – the only audible sound being the fizzling of champagne. All eyes are on Wyll, who stands with his own glass, ready to receive his due.

“To Wyll,” begins Astarion, “for I could have not asked for a better traveling companion during our plight against the Absolute.” His eyes are thin slits as he speaks, expression forcibly strained.

He's lying. And so brazenly.

Astarion despised Wyll during their journey. Teased him about being the golden boy, only agreeing to be a dog for Mizora due to a subconscious desire to bed the she-devil. Some, if not all in part, influenced by Tav and Wyll’s short-lived romance. Astarion’s quips escalated in intensity not soon after, and remained sour right up until the end of their adventure together.

It's unsettling to her just how easily Astarion can slip into the mask of a perfect gentleman. Play any hand to his advantage, win over even the most suspicious of individuals. Is that what he's been doing to her this entire time, she wonders? Playing a game? Is there even still a line between what's real and what's for show?

Who is this man that wears the liar’s grin so unashamedly? He wears her lover's face, but this is not him.

Unless… their dynamic has changed?

Tav finds that difficult to believe, but perhaps they've come to an understanding. Perhaps she shouldn't be so quick to judge their relationship. The men are partners now, after all. That demands some level of mutual respect.

…Right?

Raising the glass to his lips, Astarion drinks his champagne. The other occupants of the ballroom soon follow suit, as if following orders from a leader. Placing the glass to her lips, Tav tips it back just enough to make contact with her mouth before bringing it back down. She quickly scans the room – hardly anyone is looking at her. Likely no one has realized she didn't truly drink, and she sighs in relief.

Wyll then steps forward, glass still half full. He wears a white satin full suit with golden trim. His long locs are pulled back behind his shoulder in a low ponytail. A rapier sits upon his hip, swishing gently as he steps forward. “My sincerest gratitude, Lord Ancunín,” he says, taking his place by Astarion's side. The ballroom is silent again as the men stand eye-to-eye. Only the occasional sound of someone clearing their throat travels through the air.

“Truth be told, I had my doubts about Astarion when we first met.” Wyll then turns toward the crowd before continuing, “but now, through his gracious donations towards the restoration of the Lower City, I can tell his heart lies in the exact same place mine does.” He begins nodding his head, as if agreeing with himself. “The abundance of love he has for this city and her people rivals my own.”

The patrons begin clapping and Tav furrows her brow. Idiots, she sneers to herself. Astarion would sooner watch this city burn than save it, especially if it meant protecting himself. How can Wyll not see that? How can they not see it?

“And so I also propose a toast,” Wyll exclaims, holding his drink up in the air. “To Lord Astarion Ancunín, the rogue-turned-hero. An undeniable asset to this city, and someone I am grateful to call a true ‘friend.’” His face is tightly guarded, wearing a well-practiced expression. Diplomatic in nature.

The room tips their glasses once more to their lips, and Tav does the same. Again she only allows the liquid to grace her lips for a moment before bringing it back down. Her stomach lurches as she watches the two men then embrace one another.

The discontent on Astarion's face is clear to her: He wishes for nothing to do with Wyll and this entire affair. And then Wyll – precious, gracious Wyll who makes the best out of every situation – smiles brightly, genuinely welcoming of the vampire's embrace. If Wyll has any reservations surrounding their current situation, they're well hidden.

The men separate, eyes locked to one another, and Astarion raises a hand to Wyll’s shoulder. He gives it a pat, and then the two men turn toward the crowd. Applause rings out again and Astarion speaks, “I say it's about time we start this thing!”

Wyll nods, taking a quick sip from his glass. “Agreed, friend.” Their voices are loud and echo throughout the room. “Everyone!” Wyll states, “Please, enjoy the festivities! This is a night for all! Thank you!”

Astarion's hand then slips from Wyll's shoulder and he departs, but not before managing to squeeze out another smile. The band resumes playing, chatter resuming within the ballroom. Tav loses sight of the silver-haired vampire as he blends within the crowd. She bites at the inside of her cheek – Astarion is unhappy. But she can't worry entirely about him, at the moment.

Her eyes find Wyll as he crosses the room, back to the small gathering of people he was initially with: Marceline, a half-elven paladin of Lathander; Oliver, a human fighter like herself; and Lester, a high-elf who is a cross between a fighter and a mage. Together, they make up Wyll’s personal division of the City Watch.

Admittedly, Tav had found Lester’s skill quite peculiar. ‘I'm somewhat of a battle mage,’ she recalls him saying. Tav had initially laughed at the insinuation, though she soon found it to be true. One afternoon, Lester used his magic to hold his enemies in place, and then proceeded to bring his mace down hard over them. Needless to say, Tav found a new respect for the man, after that.

Tav places her still-full glass of champagne on a tray held by a servant, then smooths out her dress. Astarion had suggested speaking to Wyll, should she wish to know more about their arrangement. And as she makes her approach toward Wyll, Marceline is the first to notice.

“Tavaria!” the half-elf exclaims. She bolts over to Tav, raven hair lifting off her shoulders from the momentum. Marceline hugs her, warm and tight, nuzzling her face against her hair. Tav returns the hug, raising her arms to encircle the woman. As Marceline steps back, she says, “Gods, we were all so worried about you!”

Tav raises a brow, allowing Marceline to take her by the hand and lead her back toward the group. “What ever do you mean, Marceline?” she asks, curiously.

Marceline stops, as does Tav. As she looks at her, Tav can see the slight pull in her bottom lip. “...You didn't show up for work yesterday, Tavaria.”

Tav’s eyes grow wide with surprise. “I… I what?”

“We were going to send a patrol to your flat,” Marceline explains, resuming her initial course, “but Wyll refused to grant it.”

Tav feels herself being brought closer to Wyll; watches as his eyes land on her. Though, her mind is a million realms away. Has she really been so preoccupied that she forgot her duty?

…Has she forgotten herself?

“Ah, there she is!” Wyll states jovially, a smile stretched across his face. His demeanor is warm and welcoming. It hints nothing of him being cross with Tavaria, despite her most recent transgression.

“Your Grace,” Tavaria says with a bow. “I am so–”

“Oh, Tavaria, please,” Wyll interjects, huffing out a laugh. “We know one another far too well for formalities. Please, speak to me as you would a friend.” He brings the champagne glass to his lips. “That is what we are, yes?”

A calm falls over Tav. One would think she'd grown used to it by now, but Wyll's patience and understanding always surprises her. “Of course, Wyll,” she agrees, giving him a smile of her own. “But I am still so very sorry for abandoning my post yesterday.” She shakes her head. “I fear that I don't know what's come over me, as of late.” Not necessarily a lie.

“You ’n this fancy lord fella have history, don't ya?” asks Oliver, outwardly. He's a stoutly man, bald and fills out his dark blue suit with hardly an inch of give. His words are slurred, his cheeks red and flushed. The tone he uses is somewhat accusatory, though Tav knows him well enough to be certain he means no harm.

Despite herself, Tav cocks a questioning brow in his direction. “We do… but how do you know about that?”

“Aye, Tav,” Oliver answers with a haughty laugh, “there are sonnets written ‘bout the two of ya.” He points his glass in her direction. “Down in the brothels, the bards sing of a young woman fallin’ in love wit’ an evil prince.” Oliver nods his head. “Pre’ty sure that’s you ‘n lover boy, no?”

A scowl settles on Tav’s face. She can feel the anger rising within her. It's on the tip of her tongue to inform the man that Wyll was once the closest thing to an actual devil, though she manages to hold off. No reason to throw him under the table. “Oliver, they've sung for ages about that,” Tav bites back. “I doubt it's just Lord Ancunín and myself they refer to.”

Lester then snickers quietly, turning away as he brings a hand to his mouth. The blond is a man of few words, a stark contrast to Gale and other mages she's met. Yet when he does speak, his words carry heavy meaning. He and Tav share a sly grin. It's obvious to both that Oliver is full of drink and hardly worth the argument currently mounting.

“It's more than fine, Tav” says Wyll, finding an opportunity to break the tension. “I figured you needed a day off. You haven’t been yourself, as of late.” Wyll takes another sip from his glass. “But what I didn't expect,” he says, lowering his glass as he tips his face up toward Tav, “was to find you here.”

The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Gooseflesh breaks out over her arms, quickly glazing around the room. This isn't a conversation she wants to have out in the open, especially with Astarion lurking about. Tav dips her head and asks quietly, “Wyll, may we speak privately?”

The group exchanges glances, their expressions flat. They then nod to one another, and soon Marceline, Oliver, and Lester depart toward the refreshment table at the far side of the room, each giving Tav an uptick of their head as they walk past.

“Why are you here, Tavaria?” Wyll asks sternly once the others are out of earshot. He turns his whole body toward her. “I can only assume this means you're both–”

“It's complicated,” Tav answers, quickly. Wyll’s face then falls, an exasperated sigh escaping him. She feels her stomach nearly drop through the floor. She should have expected slack from Wyll about this. Or, really… from anyone.

“I see,” he remarks, placing a hand on his hip. Wyll chokes back the rest of his champagne just as a servant passes by, and he places the glass upon their silver tray. “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asks Tav, nodding politely to the servant as they depart. “Should I remind you of what he's done?”

Tav meets the questioning gaze of the servant looking back, and they quickly duck their head. Astarion has eyes and ears throughout the entire manor – not a detail she's forgotten. Though, she screws her eyes shut and draws a deep breath in.

Wyll speaks of the ascension.

The moment Astarion, the rogue, fell and Astarion, the vampire lord, took his place. Tav still hears them, even now – the shrieking of over 7000 souls perishing from this realm, banished to the depths of the Hells.

She remembers the fire behind Astarion's ruby red eyes as he rose, as if born anew. The manic laughter that tumbled forward from his chest as he confronted Ulma, slitting her throat. The pulsing artery of her carotid bathing him in blood, flowing freely into his mouth.

She remembers the moan he let out as the woman's blood hit his tongue. The gurgling noises arising from her throat as she grew limp, falling into his arms. His body rocking in time with her twitching form as he finally sealed his lips over the wound, drawing more and more blood into his mouth.

And within moments, it was over. Ulma grew still, and Astarion dropped her to the floor in an unceremonious heap, completely lifeless. Astarion stood still for what felt like ages. The Gur who arrived with her soon fled when Astarion finally lifted his head, vowing to return with stronger numbers. And all the vampire lord did was laugh.

In the immediate aftermath, Tavaria and the others were horrified. The chance of Astarion turning on them next ran through each of their minds. Wyll vowed to stake him through the heart should he draw closer; Gale promised to cast spells to hold Astarion in place. Tav had never feared Astarion up until that point. Even with his fangs seated deep within her neck, she still trusted him to take just enough. Though, as he turned to face her, blood smeared across his face, dripping down his chin… A chill ran through her heart.

His smile is what did it. Wide, almost goofy. It was as if he expected her to be as proud as he was. Finally, after two centuries of horror, he was now the cat who got the clotted cream. And, by the gods, did it feel good.

“I remember well enough what he's done,” Tav remarks solemnly, opening her eyes. She shifts her gaze away from Wyll. “And all he continues to do.”

Wyll cocks his head upward, narrowing his eyes. “So you know?” he probes, cautiously.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Tav confirms, moving her head in agreement. “In fact, that's the entire reason I stand before you now. Astarion suggested I speak with you about what happened.”

Wyll is stoic for a moment, unwavering. Tav questions for a moment if she somehow misread the situation, but Wyll bursts into a sudden fit of laughter, placing a hand on his chest. The duke then shakes his head. “At least he's still a character,” he says, continuing to laugh. His arms fall back down to his hips. “But petty, no less. The man doesn't even have the common decency to wear a suit.” He then gestures toward Tav, hand waving up and down. “Though, he made sure you look the part.”

Heat floods her face. “H-how do you know I didn't choose this myself?” Tav argues. How embarrassing, she thinks, for it be so obvious that Astarion clothed her. Like his personal doll.

Though, much to her relief, Wyll only chuckles. “Tavaria, you are capable of many things,” the Duke says, reassuringly. “But this?” He waves his hand up and down her form again. “I don't think you'd ever choose this for yourself.” And just as Tav's heart begins to sink, Wyll adds, “It's not necessarily a bad thing.”

“Wyllyam!” she scolds through gritted teeth. Tav then scans the room, silently praying no one is eavesdropping on their conversation. “Mind yourself, please!” She can feel how brightly her cheeks now burn, and before she turns back to Wyll, Tav catches Astarion's scowling at them from across the ballroom. “I-I’m your subordinate, Wyll,” Tav states within a hushed tone. A cold chill passes over her, and she finally meets the Duke's gaze once more.

Curse Astarion's attuned hearing. He's likely heard everything they've said.

“Of course, of course,” Wyll agrees. “My apologies; I may be a bit deeper in the drink than I realize.” He shakes his head. “Right. You're here to talk about my agreement with my lovely friend, Astarion.”

A jolt of pain shoots through her chest as she feels her cheeks flush. Their performance earlier was exactly that – an act. There's still no love lost between the two men. However, it sounds even more strained, now.

Tav gives Wyll a sullen glance. “I'm sorry, Wyll. When I found those men laying in the crypts below, I demanded answers from him.” She clasps her hands over her stomach, looking down. “But he refused to tell me everything.”

“Of course he did,” Wyll is quick to remark. He shifts his weight onto one hip. “Because your opinion of him is the only one he cares for, just as it's always been. Wouldn't want to sully that, now, would he?”

Tav raises her head to meet Wyll. How much of what Astarion told her is the truth? Perhaps she knows nothing at all. Would that be so out of the realm of possibility? “Wyll, what happened that night?” she asks, plainly. “Why was Astarion even with those men?”

Wyll sighs, casting his gaze to the floor before looking back up. He clicks his tongue, placing his arms over his chest. “When I became Grand Duke, I knew one of the first things I had to do was keep an eye on Astarion.” He wags a finger in the air. “The Szarr family has been around for centuries, and is considered one of the wealthiest in all of Baldur's Gate. For Astarion, in all of his unpredictability, to inherit such an estate, alongside boundless physical powers…” Wyll seems lost in thought for a moment before he continues, “...It’s a recipe for disaster.”

Tav nods in silent agreement. She knows he isn't wrong to assume as such. Only minutes after ascending did he test the boundaries of these new abilities, much to everyone else's horror. Mere hours after the ritual is when he demanded her mortal life be given to him. Wyll was absolutely correct to not trust Astarion. A fact that's difficult to argue against.

“So,” Wyll explains further, “I invited him to Wyrm’s Crossing one afternoon and proposed an agreement: Astarion aid me in cleaning up Cazador's morally questionable affairs, and I give Astarion his privacy. No meddling in his records, nor his personal business. And he agreed.” Wyll then smiles. “But only after I made good on my promise to position patrols outside of the palace, ready to move in should I give the word.”

Tav’s eyes widen in shock. “You would have laid siege upon him?” she asks, voice quivering.

“Without question,” Wyll answers, sternly. “Tav, I know of your history with him. I can only imagine how complicated it is now.” He leans in closer to Tav, nearly face to face. “But heed my words – the man is a devil masquerading as a man.” There's a sharp bite to his words that sends a shockwave shooting down her spine. Wyll shakes his head again. “He is not the Astarion we knew. Not even close.”

“...How can you be so sure?” Tav’s lips pull into a quirk. Astarion can't be all that horrid… Could he? Surely, she would know by now.

Wyll draws a deep breath in, releasing it with forced effort. “Cazador's depravity ran deeper than I thought. I knew the man would be involved in terrible business, but never did I think it would include the trafficking of humanoid creatures.” The Duke swallows, taking a moment of respite before adding, “I used this as leverage to broker a deal with Astarion. He'd continue business as usual, gathering sensitive information to help me build a case. And I stay out of his other affairs.”

“You used him?!” Tav exclaims, worriedly. “And with slavers, no less? Wyll, that's low! Even for you.”

“Is it crueler than Astarion forcibly taking half the city as his spawn?” responds Wyll, coldly. “I needed an in, Tav. Surely you can understand why.”

Just then, the leader of the band speaks, welcoming all to gather for their next song. Tav meets Wyll’s eyes, and he gestures toward the dance floor, holding out his hand for her. Reluctantly, Tav accepts, and they both head toward the floor.

They stand before one another, one set of hands interlocked adjacent to their waists. Tav's free hand rests atop Wyll’s shoulder, while he places his on her hip. The band then kicks in – a slow, melodic song – and the two begin to sway. Tav remembers the night they danced around the campfire together. A soft smile comes to her face, but it’s short lived.

“I'm the reason Astarion was present that evening,” Wyll continues. “But I never instructed him on how to act.” The two part as Wyll stretches out their conjoined hands, and Tav twirls under both of their arms. She returns to him, and the two spin as they glide across the floor, the hem of her skirts swaying as they go.

“He told me he had no choice but to kill them,” says Tav within a broken breath. “That they would have gotten him first.”

Wyll then chuckles, throwing his head back. “And I'm sure he's expecting me to tell you the same. But that would be too far from the truth.” Wyll then separates from her again, releasing their hands to lay his palm flat against hers. Tav then follows his lead, moving so their bodies are parallel to one another, and they walk in a circle together. “You're a smart woman, Tav. I know that as fact,” Wyll states, confidently. “Do you really think the vampire ascendant is so defenseless? That he’d find himself trapped?”

Wyll then drops his hand, holding up the opposite, and Tav does the same. They mirror their previous formation, circling now in the opposite direction. “He had every chance of escaping, had he any desire to do so,” Wyll continues, facing Tav.

Tav meets his eyes, her body almost on autopilot. A chill runs down her spine as her mind makes sense of Wyll's inference. “Wyll, are you implying–”

“That he murdered those men on purpose?” Wyll interrupts, almost emphatically. The band then slows, music winding down, and Wyll comes to stand before her. “Yes, Tavaria. That is exactly what I'm implying. Because that's exactly what happened.”

Applause rings out around them as the music cuts out, but Tav can hardly hear it over the sound of her heart hammering away in her ears. Her blood runs cold.

Wyll speaks sense; Astarion always had control of the situation. His life was never in danger. He killed those men for no reason other than he could.

A game. A way to test his new powers.

The smell of iron dancing beneath her nose pulls her violently from her thoughts. Saliva pools thickly in her mouth as she scans the room, desperately searching for the source. She gasps aloud when she finally finds it.

There, in the far corner of the ballroom, stands Astarion. His eyes are fixed on her as he raises a silver goblet to his mouth. They share a glance long enough for Tav to watch the goblet then fall away, a small bead of crimson liquid dripping down his stained lips. Astarion is quick to snatch it up with the side of a finger, bringing it to his mouth.

The smell is intoxicating, and Tav’s vision grows fuzzy. She's suddenly hungry, starved for something she knows not what. It's what happened to her at the butcher shop, but it’s worse. So much more intense now than it was then.

Astarion's tongue darts from his mouth to envelop the digit, swiping the liquid from his finger. His eyes have yet to leave hers, and Tav feels an enigmatic pull overtake her.

Is that… blood?

The urge to lick the essence from his lips swells within her. To bury her tongue as deeply as possible within his mouth, savoring every last drop of blood. To swap their tainted saliva back and forth, until the taste all but fades into nothing.

Astarion then smiles, as if privy to her thoughts. Her mouth falls open with sudden realization.

…Has she grown a hunger for blood?

“Tavaria!”

Her concentration is broken as Wyll’s voice bellows in her ears. She whips her head in his direction, staring wildly. “I'm sorry,” Tav says, rushed. She sucks in a sharp breath and screws her eyes tightly. “My mind was elsewhere.”

Wyll’s gaze shifts to the far corner of the ballroom, where Astarion stands. The two men exchange deep scowls. “I don't want to get between whatever business you have with him, Tavaria,” he says, shifting his eyes back to her. “But if I were you, I’d run.”

Tav huffs out a laugh. She then looks to Astarion and finds that despite the women who have now joined him, he's still focused entirely on them. “What do you mean?” Tav asks innocently, turning her head to Wyll. “I don't think Astarion would ever harm me.”

“You have no idea who Astarion is anymore. None of us do.” Wyll states with finality. “And I'm deeply concerned by what may become of you should you stay.” He lifts his hands then to Tav’s shoulders, and she shudders under his touch. “There will come a time when he grows bored of this game.” Wyll tightens his grip. “I don't think I have to tell you what happens next.”

Tav’s eyes grow wide.

It's… a game. Their entire dynamic is a game of cat and mouse – who can outsmart the other first. How could she have been so blind? There's no love in this. No, this is about possession. Control. Deep down, a part of her always knew that. But she didn't think it was evident to anyone else.

“Your neck, Tav – I see it.” Wyll's eyes draw tightly together, his voice dropping an octave as he tilts his head. “He's already marked you.”

Bile pools in the back of her throat again as a sudden wave of nausea rushes forward. A hand flies to her neck, covering the remnants of Astarion's bite.

Tav wants to vomit. She wants to run, scream, forget she ever let Astarion back into her life.

The realization dawns over her that Wyll is right: Astarion will inevitably force her hand, should she stay long enough. He will never let her live out a mortal life. Tav will become his puppet, his trophy. His most prized possession, completely dependent on him for sustenance. Astarion will keep her sealed tightly within this palace, never to see the light of day again. She will be expected to lay with him as he commands, satisfy him as he commands… To become completely subservient to all his desires.

She was right, and has been right this entire time. Astarion has only given her the illusion of choice, hoping that she gives into him willingly.

She feels hollow.

Tav stares blankly at Wyll, placing both of her hands over her lower belly. Her mouth struggles to form the words racing through her mind, unable to grasp them. She wants to tell Wyll everything. About her and Astarion, about the baby. He could hide her, far away from Astarion's reach. So that he could never find her or their child ever again. She knows he would.

But the aroma of a certain spiced cologne distracts her, and as Tav turns her head toward that particular corner of the ballroom again, she sees Astarion drawing closer.

Panic grips her throat, and almost instinctively she's ripping herself away from Wyll. “I–I need some air!” she shouts in his direction, briefly looking back. Wyll moves to speak, but Tav is beyond earshot.

The urge to run consumes her, but to where? She scans the room desperately, tunnel vision beginning to set in. Finally, she finds large window pane doors leading out into the garden.

Tav dares to look back and finds Astarion now chatting with Wyll. Their expressions are taut, strained – she can see Astarion's fangs under the curling of his upper lip. Her heart skips strongly within her chest, and she looks again to the French doors.

It may be futile, as Astarion can simply sniff her out should he choose, but anything is better than staying here. She may as well try. With that logic in mind, Tav makes a desperate dash towards the doors.

—----------------------------------------

Bursting out into the courtyard, Tav barrels down the stone steps. She runs into the hedges, stopping just short of a rose bush. The sound of tearing fabric rings in her ears, but she doesn't care. All that matters is keeping away from him right now.

Fearfully, she dares herself to look back to the top of the stairs. Astarion soon comes into view, surveying the garden. Though, he makes no effort to follow her. Instead, he turns, wine glass in hand, and heads back into the ballroom.

A choked sob then escapes Tav's throat. Her body is overcome by violent shaking as she drops to her knees, clutching herself. How could she have been so blind? Was she charmed? Has Astarion been whittling away at her subconscious this entire time?

Just as she feels her resolve begin to shatter entirely, Tav catches the silhouette of another standing where Astarion just was. Brown hair tied into a high bun atop the man's head, the rest flowing down his shoulders. Mauve and midnight blue evening dress, complete with a vest and jacket. He seems to be searching for something.

“Gale?” Tav questions tentatively, poking her head from beyond the bushes. “Is that really you?”

The wizard looks out into the garden, his face lighting up as he finds her. “Tav!” he exclaims, running down the steps to meet her. “I knew I saw you talking to Wyll earlier! Though, I must ask…” Gale then extends a hand to her. “...are you hiding?”

Tav pouts as she takes his hand, letting Gale pull her up. “It's a long story,” she deflects, patting herself down. There's a small tear in the dress just below her left breast, and she scowls. “I'm surprised to see you here. I wouldn't think of Astarion inviting you.”

“Well, fortunately for you, the guest list wasn't his to command.” The magician places his hands on his hips, staring intently at Tav. “But really, why are you out here? You all but ran from Wyll.” Gale then searches her up and down, bending forward and sideways. “Are you hurt? Did he say something unkind?”

Tav sighs and shakes her head. “No, no. It's nothing Wyll said.”

A blatant lie – it's everything Wyll said.

“I just needed some fresh air, that's all.” She tries her best to put on a smile, but she knows Gale doesn't buy it.

“Tav,” he states, sternly. “What's wrong? You look beautiful, yes, but I can also see that you're shaken.” He dips his head to stare up at her from under his brow. “I'm your friend, Tav. You can talk to me.”

She looks at him. Emotion swirls within her chest, and she begins to heave with heavy breath. Tears well up within her eyes, and it's not long before Tav rushes forward, throwing her arms tightly around Gale’s neck. She sobs, heavily, messily, into his shoulder.

It's cathartic – like a dam finally giving way after keeping a rushing river at bay for far longer than ever intended. She feels arms encircle her and realizes they're Gale's, prompting another rush of tears to flow down her cheeks. For the first time in months, she feels safe. She hadn’t realized she'd forgotten what this feels like, until now.

By the time Tav lifts her face, the shoulder of Gale's jacket is horribly stained. She must look like a child's painting right now, make-up askew. But Gale simply gives her a reassuring look, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to retrieve a handkerchief. “Here,” he says while holding it out for her.

And for a moment, Tav wishes she could have fallen in love with him instead.

Tav accepts his offer, muttering her thanks as she lifts the kerchief to her eyes. “I'm sorry for not having answered your most recent letters.” She then blots the skin over her cheeks, scowling as her foundation stains the cloth. “There’s so much I have to tell you, Gale. So much has happened in such a short period of time, and I've no time to process it.”

“I'm here now,” Gale states triumphantly, placing his hands on his hips. “No better time to start than the present.”

She gives a soft laugh, sniffling before she says, “I suppose you're right.” She swipes the handkerchief under her nose. “Well, for one… I'm pregnant.”

Gale doesn't answer. Instead, he cocks his head slowly to the side, eyes growing wide with surprise. “...Whoa,” he musters. “Well… That's… certainly one way to start.” He then rights his posture, shifting his weight to one side. “I… wasn't aware you were with anyone.”

“That’s because I'm not.” Tav stares at the ground, sticking out a foot to run her shoe mindlessly over the small stones that make up the garden’s pathway. “At least not officially.”

The wizard crosses his arms over his chest. “I see. Is it someone that you know?”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Tav answers quickly. “We both know him quite well.” She then pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, adding, “Or, we did.”

“I think I'm beginning to understand,” says Gale with a snicker. “I can see how tensions may run high in your line of work.” Tav quirks a brow but remains silent, curious as to where Gale is taking the conversation. “And how your superior may seem like the best person to relieve them with.”

And then her mouth hangs open for a moment, dumbfounded, though she quickly gathers her thoughts to argue. “Gale, I don't think you–”

“You know,” he continues, sticking up a hand to wave a finger, “when I was at the academy, I had a professor who–”

“Gale!” Tav shouts. Heat floods to her cheeks in embarrassment. “Gods, no! It's not Wyll!” Placing her face in her hands, Tav begins to pace back and forth. A groan escapes her as she drags both hands across her face, further smearing her make-up. “Why does everyone assume I'm still infatuated with Wyll?”

Gale shrugs his shoulders. “I don't think he's that hard on the eyes.”

“He isn't!” Tav shouts again. “But, sweet Hells, he's my boss!”

“Alright, alright,” Gale holds up his hands in defeat, then crosses them over his chest. “So, if not him, then who?”

Tav sucks in a breath through her nose, exhaling slowly through her mouth. Her heart pounds against her chest as Astarion's name dances across her mind. She wants to say his name, but her mouth won't cooperate. Instead, she slowly lifts her hair, turning her head to expose the healing bite mark on her neck to Gale's curious eyes.

“That… looks like a recent bite wound,” comments the wizard, pupils dilating.

“And you would be correct,” Tav confirms, flatly.

His squints, leaning closer to Tav, then stands upright. “Judging by the spacing of the marks…” Gale says, hesitantly, “...I would say that's the bite of a vampire.”

Tav nods, lips drawing into a thin line. “Right again.”

“Huh,” huffs Gale. “But, there's only one vampire we both know.”

Her heart is pounding again, so loud it's drowning out any sound in her ears. “Indeed,” Tav agrees, willing herself to continue despite her discomfort. “And we happen to be standing in his garden.”

She watches Gale's face as it contorts, the phases of acknowledgement written clearly for Tav to see. The magician's face ranges from confusion, to shock, to acceptance, back to shock again. “Oh, Nine Hells,” Gale mutters. “...How? When?!”

Tav throws up her arms, laughing to herself. “Not sure, Gale! Because if I did, I certainly wouldn't be in this mess!”

Shame settles in. Tav’s face burns again, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Hearing these words said with her own voice somehow makes this real. Makes the empty hole within her chest ache, once occupied by Astarion. The desperate desire to be held by him, to disappear into the night and fall in love all over again.

“Gods, Tavaria… I don't even know what to say.” Gale lowers his arms to his sides, holding one hand to his hip. “How did he react when you told him?”

The air is knocked from her lungs, and Tav sucks in a desperate breath. “...I haven't,” she says, quietly.

“What?!” exclaims Gale. “Tav, you have to tell him!”

She glares at him, balling her hands into fists, shame quickly warping into anger. “Gale, if I tell him, you can kiss ever seeing me again goodbye.” She's shaking now, emotions boiling over.. “I will be his, forever, whether I want to be or not! I will no longer have a choice!”

“Oh, poppycock,” says Gale with a wave of his hand. “If there's one thing we both know about Astarion, it's that he'd never let any harm come to you. Especially by his doing.” Gale moves closer to Tav, voice dropping in decibel. His gaze remains glued to her. “Is this what you were discussing with Wyll? You know how he feels about Astarion, Tav,” says the wizard.

Tav swallows thickly. Her jaw is clenched tightly, teeth grinding against one another. “Gale, he's not the man either of us think he is,” she states, boldly. “Not anymore.”

Gale leans back with a laugh. “I somehow doubt that,” he argues, raising a hand, then both. “Sure, he's grown to be a bit of a recluse over these last few months.” With a shrug of his shoulders, Gale adds, “And the Gods only know how familiar I am with such a state. But it doesn't seem his heart has changed, when you're concerned.”

“What are you talking about?” Tav retorts in frustration. Does he mean to mock her? It's unlikely, but still infuriating how wrong he is at this moment. “Gale, he had fucking bodies in the crypts, what are you–”

“Did you ever think that perhaps Astarion sought you out again because he knew he was losing control?”

Tav’s eyes grow wide, shocked by the wizard’s declaration. “...What?” The whispered sound that escapes her throat is foreign to her. “I don't…” She shakes her head slowly in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“You're the only one he's ever felt safe with, Tavaria,” explains Gale. “Astarion never spoke to us the way he spoke to you. You two had a language all your own.”

…He’s right. Tav’s gaze wanders off toward the French doors of the ballroom. Astarion confided in her like no other. Spoke to her in a tone that was reserved strictly for her. His hardened edges gave way to a soft, pale underbelly after a time. And never to another.

The panic in his eyes as Cazador rendered him utterly helpless, entrapped within an enchantment. Desperate pleas to free him ripping through his throat. Astarion shook violently within her arms as she broke the spell, his body collapsing against hers. His nails nearly pierced the thick leather of her armor from how tightly he gripped her, and when it came time for them to separate, Astarion refused to let go.

‘Please,’ he cries softly, pupils blown wide. He's shaking something fierce, as if reliving the worst moment of his life on repeat. He clings to her forearm as she tries to stand. ‘Please, I can't, he's going to, to you, he's going to–’

‘Hush now, Astarion,’ Tav coos, trying to soothe him. She runs a hand gently through his hair and kisses his sweat-soaked brow. ‘We’re here. He can't harm you.’

Astarion turns to her. He lifts a trembling hand to her face, cupping her jaw. ‘...I don't care about what happens to me,’ he says, voice hoarse. ‘I don't want him to have you.’ His jaw cinches tight, spitting through gritted teeth, ‘He has no right.’

The magician sucks in a deep breath and brings a hand to his face, exhaling as he begins stroking his beard. “Look, if Astarion wanted to harm you, he would have done so already.” He then tosses his hand to the air, lips molding into a soft pout. “I think he's asking for help in the only way he knows how.”

Heat crawls across her skin, and suddenly the air is too hot. Tav draws in a deep breath, fanning herself with her hands. Her eyes sting from the threat of fresh tears and she once again begins to pace back and forth.

“I never wanted any of this,” she admits to Gale, looking up at him each time she passes. “Gods, sometimes I wish I chose my Father.” Tav chokes back a sob. “At least then I would never have to think or feel again.”

A moment passes before Gale says solemnly, “Pain, happiness, sorrow, bliss – emotions remind us that we're alive, Tavaria.” He shakes his head. “To deny them is to deny life itself.”

“I don't wish to argue that,” Tav replies. “I just mean–”

The words die in her throat as her eyes catch a glimpse of someone standing by the French doors.

At the top of the marble stairs is Astarion, glass of wine in hand. As he descends the steps, Tav swears there's an additional button undone on the crimson dress shirt he wears. The fabric ripples across the pale plane of his chest, moonlight glinting off the golden amulet hanging around his neck. He reaches the bottom step and takes a swig of wine before sauntering over.

“The Wizard of Waterdeep!” Astarion bellows, almost mockingly. “Fancy seeing you here.” As he comes to stand next to Gale, Tav can smell the alcohol on his breath and notes that his eyes are slightly glazed over. He fidgets to find a comfortable pose, inevitably settling on leaning to one side with his free hand on his hip.

He's… drunk. Reminiscent of the night he helped himself to a cave bear within the Underdark.

“Astarion,” Gale replies with a nod of his head. “Good to see you, too. Love what you've done with the place. It feels so much more–” Gale rolls his wrists, as if to stimulate a response, “–alive, than it did before.”

The vampire gives a soft grunt before saying, “Well, yes. That was the entire point, no?” His eyes then land on Tav, and she feels the small hairs on her arms and neck stand on end. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything?” Astarion inquires with a grin.

The ruby red of his irises burn into her despite their sheen. “Not at all,” Tav manages to reply, turning her head to Gale. “Gale and I were just catching up. I've admittedly been a poor friend,m neglecting to answer his letters.” She makes sure to give a laugh after her sentence; Astarion is studying her.

The magician’s gaze flits momentarily between Astarion and Tav before settling on Tav. “Oh, no, of course you're not,” Gale says with a chuckle, “it's no issue, really. Just happy to know you're doing well.” Tav gives him a small nod of her head, thanking him for having taken her lead. Gale returns the gesture.

“Splendid,” Astarion states flatly, albeit sarcastically. “Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I borrowed this lovely lady?” He brings his glass again to his mouth, throwing the rest of the wine back. As the cup drops from his face, Astarion meets her eyes again, brow drawn tightly together. “I’ve been looking for her.”

Again Tav and Gale share a look, and Tav nods approvingly. “N-no, of course not,” Gale stammers. “I think we're sufficiently caught up.”

“Indeed we are,” Tav comments, moving closer to Astarion. “It was a pleasure to see you, Gale. I'll do my best to be better about answering your correspondence.” She then slips her arm around the vampire's, only to feel Astarion flinch against her. “Shall we?” she then asks Astarion, giving his forearm a pat. He's tense alongside her, though he returns her gaze.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Gale,” Astarion says to Gale, turning toward the palace. His voice edges on bitter, but there's still enough pleasantry about it to be considered cordial.

Tav waves to the wizard, then follows Astarion's lead back toward the ballroom. Her stomach is in a mess of nerves and her heart is practically in her throat. Drawing a deep breath in, she manages to blink away any hint of tears forming within her eyes. The signature scent of Astarion's cologne envelops her and she clings tighter to his arm as they ascend the stairs.

Before entering the ballroom, Astarion gives Gale one final glance as he ushers Tav beyond the French doors. He then follows swiftly behind her.

“Huh,” is all Gale can mutter to himself.

#sotlc #cw: gore #pregnancy mention #tw: gale #astarion fanfic #astarion x durge #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion

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mimsynims · 10 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 9

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

~~~

Author’s Note: Aaand it’s finally done! I always have trouble wrapping up a story, and this one was no exception… but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This will be posted at AO3 at some point. (In fact, if I write more BG3 fics I’ll probably post it on AO3 instead of Tumblr, as usual. And I do have a few ideas actually…👀)

Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, and comments <3 it has definitely helped me keep going!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, finally a happy ending for these two knuckleheads

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

To begin with, you didn’t handle it well. You tried moving on, and that seemed to work. At least you told yourself that it did.

Then something happened that gave you hope. Perhaps he feels something for you too, after all?

~~~

You find him on the path close to the archway, in almost the same spot where you talked to Bex mere days ago. You take a moment to study him from afar. It’s hard to be sure when there’s nothing but the light from the moon illuminating him, but you think his shoulders look tense. Is this your doing?

You wish you could hug him, offer to him relax in your arms.

“I’m afraid your personal blood bank will be closed for a while,” you joke as you walk closer, hoping it will lighten his mood. “For restocking purposes.”

Astarion doesn’t turn around, and when he remains silent for several tension-filled seconds, you wonder if your quip was a mistake.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

The question takes you by surprise and try as you might, you can’t figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that you’d do anything for me. Did you mean it?”

Oh. That. “Yes.”

Your heart starts pounding as he shifts to look at you. Silvery beams of moonlight caress his beautiful face, a face painted with apprehension — and possibly hope.

“And what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” you ask in return, because you’re not ready to say those three little words. Not yet.

“Nice try, Tav.” His jaw tightening, Astarion suddenly looks closed off. “If you’re going to play coy with me you might as well leave.”

With that, he turns away from you again — and it feels like a stab to the heart. “It means,” you amend quickly, “that I care for you.” You’ve never been good at expressing your emotions. Never been good at opening yourself up to other people. And it’s scary to do so now. “Deeply.”

Astarion scoffs. “I bet you said that to Gale too,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice stings.

“I– what are you talking about?”

“I saw you. You went to him.”

Acting without thought, you rush forward to place yourself in front of him to make sure that he looks at you; he needs to fully understand what you say next. “It wasn't like that, we only talked. Astarion, you’re special to me.”

You steel yourself for another cutting remark, but you’re helpless against the sad expression that replaces the anger. “So special that you decided to end things between us?”

Fool. You’ve been a fool. “I ended things because I didn’t think…” Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to be honest. “I did it because I was jealous and I couldn’t handle the possibility of you breaking my heart.”

His brow twitches in confusion. “You were jealous? Of who?”

You desperately ache to touch him, but you hold yourself back. “Shadowheart. Halsin. Anyone that I thought was sharing your bed besides me.”

“Tav. Darling.” He sounds exasperated but hearing the endearment again sparks tingles of joy and hope inside your chest. “I haven't invited anyone to my bed since we started sleeping together.”

Oh. Oh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” For the first time since you found him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” To say that you’ve been an idiot is an understatement. You’ve let yourself see things that aren’t there because you are insecure. “I haven’t either, you know. Been with anyone else since you.”

The smile twists into something teasing and sultry that feels more like Astarion. “Is that so?”

“It is, and I honestly can’t believe you’d think anything different.” It’s true. While you wouldn’t call yourself unattractive, you’ve never really been one to draw the attention of potential lovers. You’ve had a few before Astarion of course, but in general, people have been more inclined to remain your friend rather than try to pursue something more. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you had seen me on the streets of Baldur��s Gate.”

“Now that is just untrue, my dear Tav.” He reaches for your hand, taking it in his. “As you so bluntly pointed out that night, my motives for seducing you may partly have been driven by self-preservation, but I chose you for a reason — and not because you're our reluctant leader.”

His slender fingers grip you tighter and the touch is exactly what you need just then. “Is that so?” you echo, attempting to sound teasing. You fail spectacularly.

“I was drawn to you even before I started to develop feelings for you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin of your palm before resting it against his cheek. “At first, I thought it was the need for your body that kept you in my thoughts night and day. But as I got to know you better, I realised it was your mind — you — that held my attention.” Closing his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sigh. “What Cazador had me do… It taught me how to read people. But you…?” He opens his eyes again to look at you, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but you continuously prove me wrong. And I appreciate that more than I can express.”

“Astarion.” There’s so much you want to say. So much you need to say. But in that moment, you finally find the courage to tell him what you should’ve told him weeks ago, so the rest will just have to wait. “Astarion, I love you.”

His eyes widen in surprise as something vulnerable flashes across his face. After five heartbeats — you know, because you counted — he lets go of your hand to gently cup your neck.

The kiss is soft and gentle. Careful. In a way, it feels like a first kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of breaking up with me?” He kisses you again before you can reply. “There you go again, doing the unexpected.”

You don’t even try to hold back a smile. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed, you silly goose.” To your surprise, it no longer hurts as much thinking back to that night. “First you disappeared and then when I found you, you were sitting between Halsin and Shadowheart.”

“My my, were you jealous, darling?” he drawls in mock surprise. The bastard.

“Of course I was!” You very carefully wrap your arms around his waist, ignoring the ache from your injury. Because you need to feel him against you, pain be damned. “Why do you think I gave Gale so much attention?”

“And got yourself decadently drunk, too. It was a glorious sight.”

“Oh shush, you.” Despite yourself, you laugh.

“I have to apologise, though, my darling. I, too, was jealous.” His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I could tell something was troubling you, but you kept being so elusive. I assumed… I thought that meant you only deemed me worthy of getting access to your body, and nothing more.”

“Astarion.” The sincerity and sorrow permeating his words make you feel like a villain. “Gods, I’m so sorry, too. At the time, I didn’t think you’d be interested in anything else.”

“I want anything and everything you give me, Tav.” You feel his fingers slide down your uninjured side, gripping you as firmly as he dares to. Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes lock with yours. “I love you, with everything that I am.”

You can see the truth of it in his gaze, can feel it in his touch. He loves you. Was it always there and you were just blind to it? Or did he hide his feelings, just like you did?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, because all you need to know is that he’s in your arms.

“You have all of me, Astarion.”

“My beautiful Tav.”

You share another kiss, and then Astarion insists you both go back to camp to let you rest. The thrumming pain of the wound is there, but it’s easily overshadowed by the warmth blooming in your chest every time Astarion throws a smile your way on your way back. His hand is still linked with yours — it’s such a small detail but it feels infinitely more intimate than anything else you’ve shared with him so far. It’s impossible to stop smiling — not that you’re trying.

He follows you to your tent but to your dismay, he tries to leave after he has made sure that you have everything you need.

“Please don’t leave,” you say, refusing to let go of him. “I want you to stay. Stay the night.”

“Tav, my love, you’re in no condition to have sex.”

My love. It almost throws you off course to hear the new endearment. “Astarion, my love,” you counter, and oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction, “I wasn’t suggesting we’d have sex. I just want you close. Assuming that’s alright, of course.”

“Really?” He sounds just a tad surprised; that’s something you and he will need to unpack before going any further. But not tonight. “Well, that I can do.”

It takes a bit of careful shuffling around, but you manage to find a position that’s comfortable for you both without putting pressure on your injury.

He’s here. In your arms. You didn’t think you’d get to have this, but he truly is here. Your contented sigh is nothing but a muffled exhale into his curls but he doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a fond chuckle in response.

“Are you sniffing my hair, darling?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears. “Well. Maybe a little,” you confess. “I can’t help that you smell nice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, pet. Your scent is quite enticing too, you know.” You feel his chest expanding as he takes a deep inhale. “Drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Since you drive me crazy on a regular basis, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Why, you little cheek..! Just watch me be even more annoying from now on.”

“You’re not annoying,” you say, trying to hold back a yawn. “You’re just a handful.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course–“ you lose the battle against another yawn. “…you will.”

You feel the press of his lips against your skin. “Quite right.”

“Astarion?” Your eyelids start to get heavy, and for the first in what seems like ages, you feel completely safe and relaxed. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Me too, darling. Me too.” His hand slides down to find yours, lacing your fingers. “Now go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over us. And tomorrow we will face whatever comes next. Together.”

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #no longer a wip because it’s finisheeeeed

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charmandabear · 3 months

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Thirteen

Summary:

Astarion's reaction to your confession isn't at all what you expect.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7.3k Tags/Warnings: slightly rough sex, piv, kink dynamics (honestly nothing new)

T_T When I tell y'all how emotional this has made me. Yes, this is the last chapter (for now.) I will almost immediately be starting on the sequel, a more slice-of-life exploration of their new relationship. I have far too many things planned to not keep going. Also, I know some people have mentioned that they appreciate the fact that Tav hasn't had any specific descriptions, and I do apologize, that will change. But on the bright side, it means I'm going to be able to continue to release my screenshots of the Professor and Rosalind.

Your support during all of this has meant so much to me, you have no idea. Any time I think that I feel like garbage, either about my writing or anything else, your comments really brighten my entire demeanor. So thank you, and thank you for your patience during this time. Now, onto the next one!

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

You keep your eyes glued to the screen for the last 14 minutes of Heathers without absorbing a second of it. You can feel Astarion stealing glances at you, but you steadfastly keep your head forward. When the show ends, you give Karlach and Shadowheart halfhearted goodbyes, purposefully avoiding Shadowheart’s suspicious stare. You busy yourself with picking up wine glasses and bringing them into the kitchen.

“You know, it was admittedly better than I thought it would be,” you say, trying to fill the awkward silence as you gather dishes. “It definitely made more of a pointed statement than I would have expected, and it’s thematically stronger than I initially realized.” You’re fully aware of the fact that you’re babbling but you can’t stop yourself.

“Say it again,” you hear Astarion say behind you quietly. You freeze and slowly turn back to where he’s sitting on the couch. His expression is completely inscrutable.

“What?” Your mouth goes dry and a prickling heat crawls up the back of your neck.

He stands and approaches you slowly, and you’ve never felt more like a trapped animal under his penetrating gaze.

“Say it again.” His voice is smooth as velvet and cold as ice.

“Say what?” You know that your feigned innocence is unconvincing. He backs you up until you can feel the counter pressing into your spine. He stands close to you and tilts up your chin with his finger.

“You know what,” he whispers, and you feel like his eyes have never looked so red. You swallow thickly, working your jaw to try to regain use of your voice.

“I- I love you,” you choke out the words which ring hollow and almost meaningless in your ears. Astarion grabs your face, kissing you suddenly and roughly. You cling to him, your confusion doing nothing to abate the desperation and hunger with which you return his kiss. He twists his hands into your hair, almost bringing you up onto your toes with how forcefully he assaults your lips.

“Again,” he growls between breathless kisses, and your fists ball up into his shirt.

“I love you,” you gasp, and his hands tighten in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. He scoops you up into his arms and your legs wrap tightly around his waist. He moves his lips to your jaw as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Again.” His voice is husky in your ear and suddenly the dam breaks, the words pouring out of you in a rush.

“I love you, Astarion,” you whimper into his neck as the two of you fall backwards onto your bed. “I love you so fucking much. I love you so much it hurts.” He peppers your neck and jaw with sloppy kisses as you cling to the back of his head.

“Again,” he groans, the word falling somewhere between a demand and a plea. He tears your tank top off you, making it the second piece of clothing today alone he’s destroyed. But you can hardly bring yourself to care – all that matters is your connection with him, his skin against yours, his breath in your ear.

“I l-love you.” The words are breathy and uneven as you fumble at the button of your jeans, the wretched things only serving as a barrier between you. You paw hungrily at his waistband, unable to articulate your want. He pulls up onto his knees, eyes bright and wild as he unbuttons his pants.

“Say that you’re mine,” he snarls, and the possessive tone of his voice alone is enough to make you mewl like an animal in heat.

“I’m yours, Astarion.” Your body writhes out of your control, a shiver running up your spine from the cool air caressing the slick lips of your pussy. “I’m your plaything, I belong to you.”

He dives back down onto you, his hungry kisses only increasing in fervor as the growing length of his cock presses against your cunt. You claw at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him, and his arms slide under your back, pulling you in even closer.

“Good, yes, again.” He pushes your legs apart with his knee, grinding his cock against your cunt and your hips involuntarily buck up into him.

“I’m yours, I belong to you, I love you,” you babble, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as your heart beats loudly in your ears. He kisses your neck and you hold his head close, your fingers sliding through his silver curls.

“Don’t stop,” he grunts as he slides his cock into you and you cry out, the sting of the stretch elevated slightly from the lack of foreplay.

“I love you.” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice anymore, you feel like a woman possessed. “Please, Astarion, please, I need you. I love you. I’m yours.”

“Fuck, yes, more, please,” he pleads, barely bothering to hide his desperation. He begins to fuck into you, slow and steady, and you pull his chest into yours. You wrap your arms around his back, across his scars, pressing the flat planes of his chest into your soft stomach and tits.

“I love you.” Your voice cracks as sensations overwhelm your body. Astarion presses his forehead to yours and you grip the back of his neck, your two bodies moving in tandem. His cock drags along your walls as he presses your thighs up against your belly.

“Yes, Tav, say it again,” he huffs, picking up the pace and you let out a particularly high pitched whine at the sound of your name falling from his lips.

“I love you, Star. I love you, please don’t stop.” Your eyes well up with very real tears as your chest grows tight and you can feel your orgasm building in the depths of your core. You grind your hips up into him as he thrusts in and out of you, the wet sound of slapping skin almost drowning out your breathy repeated confessions. You pull him into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you kiss him deeply, teetering on the edge.

“Tav, I–” He breaks the kiss just in time for a few final broken juts of his hips and he’s coming, setting off your own climax not long after. The pleasure ripples through your body as he clutches you close to him, your walls throbbing around the pulsing of his cock as he spills inside of you.

The two of you stay connected, barely moving save for your heavy breathing as the waves of your orgasm finally settle. After what feels like both an eternity and far too soon, he pulls out of you and sits up, giving you the first chance to properly look at him. His hair is disheveled, and he had taken off his glasses at some point so you’re looking into those bright red eyes directly. He’s uncharacteristically flushed, something that usually only happens right after feeding, but you’re surprised to realize that he didn’t even try to bite you.

“Are you good?” you ask breathlessly, a little concerned by the slightly unhinged look in his eye. He pulls the mask back on quickly, but not before you’ve seen him without it.

“Yes darling, of course,” he flashes you a practiced smile and pulls you into a soft kiss. There’s still something gnawing at the back of your mind, but it quickly dissolves at the familiar feeling of his lips against yours. You melt into him, putty in his hands, his fingers in your hair giving you comfort and protection. “I’ll clean up. You sleep,” he murmurs into your skin. Your eyelids grow heavy almost against your will, and he kisses the top of your head. Your arm trails feebly after him as he stands and walks out of your bedroom.

You crawl under the covers, too emotionally exhausted to even bother with brushing your teeth. You feel comforted by the casual domestic sounds of Astarion cleaning up outside your bedroom door. You’re almost fully asleep when you feel him slide into bed next to you. You snuggle back into him as he slips an arm around your waist and plants a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

***

The sound of your alarm the next morning rattles through your skull, setting off your mild wine hangover. You swipe the alarm off and turn over to reach for Astarion only to find empty space. You sit up and blink yourself awake, listening closely to the ambient sounds in your apartment to see if he’s in the shower or making you breakfast, but all you can hear is the soft hum of your air filter.

You try to quell your disappointment by reminding yourself that he spent the last 36 hours in your apartment and probably just needed to slip out before sunrise. Besides, he has class today, and he came to your apartment two days ago with absolutely nothing on him. It’s totally reasonable that he needed to leave early, and he probably just didn’t want to wake you.

The disappointment creeps up on you regardless.

You’re still not entirely sure how to process what happened last night. Did you really tell him that you love him? Did you mean it? His response was borderline feral. You weren’t particularly ready to say it, and he didn’t really seem ready to hear it.

You shake your head and try to let the insecurity pass. Maybe it’s just a game he was playing again, like the night of Taming. Maybe when you see him today, you can just pretend it never happened.

It’s times like this that you really wish you had a pet. Your apartment isn’t very big, but it feels positively cavernous right now. At least if you had a dog, you’d be able to distract yourself with taking care of it. You throw on a robe and shoot Karlach a quick text as you head into the kitchen.

-Hey, where did you adopt Clive?

You see Astarion’s glasses on the kitchen counter and frown. Doesn’t he need those to see? You walk over and pick them up, noticing just how smudged they are. You clean them on the sleeve of your robe and hold them up to the light, and you’re surprised to realize that you can see right through them perfectly fine. You put them on and your vision doesn’t change at all.

He doesn’t need them to see, they’re completely cosmetic.

You burst out laughing, almost shocked that it took you this long to find out. You suspected it before you started dating, but you had chalked that up to your unreasonable bitterness towards him.

You take a selfie while wearing the glasses and sticking out your tongue. You look at the picture, delete it, take your hair out of its messy bun and tousle it around your face, then take the picture again. Good, much cuter. You send it to him along with the text:

-Caught you, you fucking liar.

Nice and casual, right? This will show him that nothing needs to change after last night, that it was just a scene that neither of you need to take too seriously. You take off Astarion’s glasses and fill the kettle with water for your coffee. You instinctively reach for the instant Folgers before remembering the fancy new stuff that he got for you. You had watched him make it, but frankly, you didn’t pay attention at all. How much are you supposed to grind? For how long? How much water?

You decide to just guess, grinding a tablespoon of beans until it looks like the instant coffee that you’re used to drinking. You pour the grinds into the French press and fill it about halfway with water. You sit on a barstool while it brews, staring at it impatiently.

Suddenly your phone buzzes, and your heart leaps thinking it’s a response to your glasses selfie. Instead, it’s from Karlach.

-omgggggggggggg soldier r u getting a dog? can i come????

Her enthusiasm makes you laugh. You lean forward on the kitchen island and reply.

-I’m thinking about it. You have tech at the end of this tenday, right?

-ah fuck. yea. what about the next fiveday break? we have a dark day before opening

-That’s perfect. I’ll text Shadowheart to see if she’s available.

Karlach’s response is instantaneous.

-she is

-🐶🦴🐾❤️‍🔥🎉🙌

Right, they’re practically living together at this point. You wonder vaguely if they’ve said it yet and your heart sinks. You might not be able to play it off as nonchalantly as you thought.

You distract yourself by pouring your coffee. It’s a little more transparent than you’re used to seeing, but you figure that’s because they’re, like, golden beans or something. You could probably stand to learn more about coffee, especially if you’re going to start drinking the fancy stuff for Astarion, but that sounds like so much work. You pour a dollop of milk into your mug, trying to mimic the color of the coffee he made for you yesterday. You scoop in two teaspoons of sugar, stir it until it dissolves, and then take a sip.

It’s… not as good.

There are so many factors that you’re not sure which step you messed up. You compensate for the weak flavor with more milk, which makes it only slightly more tolerable. Regardless, it’s still better than the instant stuff, so you continue drinking it as you assemble a quick breakfast, making a mental note to get more specific instructions from Astarion.

When you get to work, you pass his office in the hallway on the way to yours, and you’re surprised to find the door closed. You press your ear to the wood paneling, trying to hear if he’s talking to a student, but you’re met with silence on the other side. You knock, and there’s no answer.

You frown to yourself. He’s probably just at a department meeting elsewhere in the building, right? Totally normal thing for ten o’clock in the morning. You check your texts with him, and it says that your message was sent, but not delivered. Maybe his phone died from spending so much time in your apartment, it’s not like he charged it or anything.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

You drop off your things at your desk and head to the main office to check your mail. You wonder if you’ll maybe see him in there, but it’s just Grace, clicking away at her computer.

“Morning, Grace,” you say to her as you head to your mailbox. She waves at you cheerily.

“Morning Tav! Have you all decided on a season yet?” She leans forward in her chair, clearly fishing for gossip. You feel the heat rising in your neck as you remember Astarion’s suggestion of Romeo and Juliet.

“Uh, not quite, no. But fingers crossed that we’re close!” You smile at her awkwardly. Your eyes dart to the office door, hoping that he’ll just stroll in, but the doorway remains painfully empty. “Hey, uh, Grace, have you seen Ast– Dr. Ancunín yet today?”

She looks up as she tries to recall. “I don’t think so… But if he comes by, I can let you know you’re looking for him.”

“No, it’s fine,” you blurt quickly. Then, trying to play it cool, you add, “It’s not important, I’ll just tell him the next time we cross paths.” You don’t think you’d get in any sort of trouble with HR if people found out that the two of you are dating since you’re in different departments, but you’d still rather not deal with the rumor mill that is academia. You grab the fliers out of your mailbox, glancing at them briefly before tossing them in the trash and returning to your office.

You lose yourself for a few hours in answering emails, organizing your notes on student scenes, and reading over your updated syllabus for the fall section of Classical Acting I. You almost jump in surprise when you hear a quiet knock on your open door. You look up to see an older tiefling gentleman hovering in the doorframe.

“Dr. Maier, hello!” you greet the chair of the English department politely. You’ve definitely seen him around, but you haven’t had much interaction with him other than a friendly wave in the hallway.

“Please, Zevlor is fine,” he says pleasantly. You breathe an internal sigh of relief – everyone in the theatre department just goes by their first name, and you find it impossible to keep up with the politics of honorifics in other departments.

“Zevlor, yes, how can I help?” You close your laptop and gesture to the teal armchair across from your desk. He silently waves his hand as if to say, no, this will be quick.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but is there any chance you’re free to cover English 340? Dr. Ancunín is nowhere to be found and his students are preparing for their final exam.” He wrings his hands nervously and you blink as you process what he’s telling you.

“Wait, what do you mean Dr. Ancunín is nowhere to be found?”

“No one has seen him since before the fiveday break, and none of his students received an email from him canceling class. He’s not answering any messages and his mobile is going straight to voicemail.” Zevlor rattles off the list on his fingers, unable to keep some of the snippiness out of his voice. You don’t blame him, honestly – Astarion isn’t exactly a team player, so it’s easy to imagine that he’s not the most pleasant colleague to work with.

“Um, sure, yeah. It’s in 110 downstairs, correct?” You pick up your laptop and your copy of the Bevington before briefly reconsidering and then pulling the Norton off your bookshelf.

“Yes, it is. Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” Zevlor clasps his hands and gives you a small bow before exiting your office. You jog downstairs and head towards 110. As you approach the door, you hear Mol’s brassy voice in the hallway.

“No, I swear, it’s in the department handbook and everything. If the teach’ don’t show up for fifteen minutes, you can leave!”

You laugh as you walk into the classroom. “Are students really still peddling that myth?”

“Oh hey, miss, you teachin’ us today? Where’s Ank-yunín?” She’s sitting backwards atop her desk with her feet on the chair.

“Dr. Ancunín had something come up.” You emphasize his name to correct her pronunciation. “And sit,” you add, pointing to the seat of her chair.

“Will he be back before the final?” The girl you remember to be named Yenna asks anxiously. You hesitate, unsure how to answer.

“That… is the plan, yes,” you finally say, and she looks visibly relieved. Where the fuck did he go? And… this has nothing to do with last night, right?

Right?

***

The longer you don’t hear from him, the more worried you get. You keep checking the message with the selfie, but it still just reads ‘sent.’ Which means either his phone is off, or he’s gone somewhere that has no service.

Or he’s blocked you.

You shake off the thought, trying desperately to reassure yourself about his feelings for you, but the little insecurity gremlin grows louder with each passing day. And it keeps shouting one question louder than the rest.

“He didn’t say it back?” Karlach looks at you, mouth agape. You fiddle with the sleeves of your cardigan self consciously while Shadowheart just seethes. The three of you are walking down the street towards the Sword Coast Cafe, a pet cafe just outside the city. It’s been almost a tenday since you’ve seen or heard from Astarion, and seemingly no one in the English department has seen him, either.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” you admit sheepishly, “everything just happened so fast. Afterwards, I kept replaying what happened over and over and suddenly I realized that he didn’t say it.”

You open the door to the cafe and are greeted by a cheery-looking gnome with a mop of fiery red hair.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sword Coast Cafe! My name is Dringo, and I’ll be your docent,” he chuckles at his own joke. “Have you been here before, or is this your first time?”

“I have,” Karlach pipes up, then jabs her thumb over towards you. “My mate over here is the one looking for a new furry friend.” You give an awkward little wave.

“Fantastic! Why don’t you go ahead and fill out this questionnaire so we can try to match you with the perfect pet. Here are your potions of animal speaking,” he hands you a tray with three little shot glasses with a semi-viscous green liquid. “Those should last about an hour. Feel free to have a seat, the other animals might come up to you, they might not.” He gets very serious suddenly. “Please don’t approach any of the animals without their express consent. Sword Coast Cafe is not liable for any injuries that you may incur.”

You listen to his instructions, nodding along but only absorbing some of it. You look down at the questionnaire, and it’s filled with questions that you might find on a dating site.

What are you looking for in a pet? Are you a morning or night person? Do you have any children? Are you outdoorsy or a homebody? Describe your perfect day off.

You down the shot of potion, and it tastes exactly the way a farm smells. You contort your face in disgust and Dringo looks at you sympathetically. But before long, the cacophony of meows, barks, and chirps slowly morphs into the sound of chatter, not unlike what it sounds like in a regular busy cafe. You make your way over to a cushy beanbag chair while Karlach plops herself on the floor and Shadowheart perches delicately on a pink wooden stool. They continue to pepper you with questions about Astarion while you fill out the form.

“So he repeatedly demanded that you say it, but he never said it back,” Shadowheart deadpans, her eyes narrowing into a glare. “And then he disappears for a tenday without so much as a note?”

“He left his glasses,” you defend him in a very small voice.

“That he doesn’t really need to see!” she hisses, and a nearby calico gives her an indignant stare.

“Soldier, you sure that him disappearing even has anything to do with you? Maybe a family thing came up,” Karlach offers helpfully. You finish the questionnaire and hand it to Dringo to avoid answering her question.

“What family?” Shadowheart sneers. “There’s no way he has anyone left.”

Without the pen and paper to keep your hands busy, you start to fidget with your sweater again. “I only just started learning about his past, but I don’t get the sense that he’s in touch with any of his blood relatives, or even if they’re still alive,” you say quietly. You’re suddenly far more worried about his well-being than his feelings for you. “What if he’s hurt? What if his old master had some unknown ally and he’s been captured and–”

“Breathe, soldier. I’m sure nothing so drastic has happened,” Karlach reassures you with a hand on your knee, and you can feel her warmth through your tights.

“A good dog will always find his way back home,” a voice from behind Karlach pipes up. You look over her shoulder and see a white dog with big brown eyes looking back at you. Karlach turns her head and gasps with delight.

“Well aren’t you just the most handsome fella?” she coos, and his tail starts wagging enthusiastically.

“Hey buddy, what’s your name?” you ask, grateful for a distraction from the conversation about Astarion.

“They call me Scratch, here. You can call me that, too, friend,” he responds, and it’s only slightly jarring to hear his voice without his lips moving. But frankly, you’re pretty sure it would be more off putting if they did.

“Hiya, Scratch, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Tav, and these are my friends Shadowheart and Karlach,” you say, gesturing to each one in turn. He dips his head in a polite greeting.

“Did you have another good boy who ran away?” he asks, and Shadowheart snorts.

“I wouldn’t exactly call him a good boy,” she scoffs just as Karlach clarifies, “He didn’t exactly run away,” in the same cadence.

“Sort of,” you explain, “it’s a bit complicated.” He sniffs the air around you curiously.

“Well you smell very nice to me, so I’m sure he’ll come back soon,” he says with confidence. It’s only when your eyes start to well up that you realize just how much of a rollercoaster the past tenday has been.

“Scratch, may I pet you?” you ask, unable to keep your voice from cracking. His tail starts wagging again, and he bobs his head in an approximation of a nod. You reach out and give him scritches behind his ears as his head presses into your palm. You’re suddenly hit with a rush of emotions and your carefully built dam breaks, allowing the tears to flow freely. Scratch licks your face, making you laugh.

“Would you like me to keep you company while you’re waiting for your good boy to return?” he asks, and you press your forehead against his.

“I’d like that a lot, buddy, thanks,” you say with only a mild tremor in your voice. You dabyour eyes on your sleeve to keep from smudging your makeup just as Dringo approaches you with a beautiful longhaired ginger cat.

“I think Malta here would be a great fit for you!” Dringo says excitedly, and the cat narrows his eyes suspiciously.

“The slightly less tall one had misunderstood the winds of fate. The cat and the taller one were not destined to become companions this day,” Malta narrates mysteriously, and you have to admit that you’re completely taken with this little weirdo.

“Wait, what?” Dringo looks at Malta, then back at you, before his eyes finally fall onto Scratch. “Oh! I didn’t realize that you were already in conversation with someone. I don’t think she’s the right choice for you, Scratch, she lives in a little apartment. You need a big house with a backyard, don’t you?”

Scratch looks at you expectantly. “Will you take me to the park?”

“Of course! As often as I can,” you assure him, and his tail wags again.

“Then I would like to go with Mistress,” he tells Dringo excitedly.

“The large, excitable white cat has already bonded with the tall one,” Malta notes. “Perhaps the tall one and the cat will meet in the future, but until that day comes, they were merely two ships passing in the night. When is that fateful day? Only Destiny could say.”

“Oh. My. Gods. I love him.” Karlach claps her hands over her mouth in excitement, and Malta looks at her appraisingly.

“The very, very warm one smelled of cinders and the musk of a stranger. The cat was far too cautious to make such a foolhardy mistake,” he says, turning his nose up at her. She nods along very seriously.

“The very warm one learned her lesson and decided to merely admire the cat from afar,” she narrates back to him, and his tail flicks in approval before he saunters off. Dringo blinks as though he’s trying to figure out how he got outsmarted by a cat.

“Well then,” he says, shaking his head, “I suppose I’ll draw up the paperwork for Scratch.” The dog dances on his front paws, his nails making happy little clacking noises on the wood floor.

You leave the cafe with an armful of supplies and Scratch padding happily behind you. You can feel the potion of animal speaking wearing off as his excited stream of consciousness fades into a series of quiet boofs and snuffs.

You walk into the lobby of your building and Withers looks at you, then at Scratch, with narrowed eyes. He and the dog make eye contact for an uncomfortably long time, and you’re not sure if Withers is able to communicate telepathically. He finally looks back at you and nods solemnly.

“The dog may stay,” he says in his gravelly voice. You’re fairly certain that your lease allows for up to two pets, but you appreciate getting his blessing regardless.

Once in your apartment, Scratch bounds happily around your living room as you put his food in the cabinet under the sink. You toss the bed Dringo gave you onto the floor under the window. You furrow your brow, trying to figure out the rules – you’ve never had a dog before.

“Am I supposed to… not let you on the couch or something?” you ask him hesitantly. He looks at you, his warm brown eyes sparkling. You look at your black faux-leather sofa, something you got for free off Craigslist, and shrug. It’s not like you’re super attached to it anyway. Besides, you don’t really mind cleaning, so if some of his white fur gets on it, you can just wipe it off.

Scratch continues to look at you, seemingly waiting for an answer. You look back at him, already missing the effects of the speak with animals potion. You’ll have to ask Astarion where he gets his.

Astarion.

It all comes crashing down on you at once. Accidentally saying ‘I love you,’ the deeply intense and overwhelming sex, and then him just… disappearing without a trace. Did he really run away? Just uproot himself and leave because… because what? Moved too fast? Revealed your past with Aradin? Probed too deep into his trauma?

Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Maybe he’s dead in a ditch with a stake through his heart, or burnt to a crisp somewhere off the highway. Maybe he’s trapped in a dungeon somewhere being tortured at this very moment.

You try to take deep breaths, acknowledge your feelings without judgment, compartmentalize to deal with them later, reassure your various parts… but none of Jaheira’s techniques are working right now, and you collapse onto the couch, crying. Scratch hops up beside you and licks the tears from your face. You laugh in spite of yourself, an uncomfortable feeling as it mixes with the choking sobs. You pet him behind the ears and he drops his chin on your shoulder, almost like a dog version of a hug. You wrap your arms around his neck and continue to cry into his fur.

***

You’re curled up on your couch with your feet tucked underneath you, reading Dance Nation on your tablet while Scratch snoozes peacefully. The soft patter of rain on the window creates a pleasant ambient noise.

You’re startled out of your reverie when the intercom by your front door buzzes. You stare at it, confused because that almost never happens. Withers has some mysterious system for allowing visitors in that rarely requires any input from you. He just sort of knows who to let in and who not to.

You walk over to the intercom, not even a hundred percent sure how it works, but you press a button that you hope will allow him to hear you and say, “...yes?”

“Thou hast a visitor,” Withers’ voice crackles through the speaker, and your heart stops. “He is very wet,” he adds, and you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“I– Who is he? And why won’t you let him in?” You pause for a second before adding, “Is it… because he’s wet?”

“No, that is not my concern,” Withers clarifies. Then he pauses for a long moment. “His intentions… they are unclear,” he finally says.

“Will you please just let me in to see her, you batty old man!”

The voice is faint over the speaker, but it’s undeniably him. You scramble to press down the button to speak.

“Yes, Withers, please let him in, thank you,” you say in a rush. Your heart pounds as you quickly adjust your appearance, fixing your limp hair in the mirror next to your door. Then you wait. Is he taking the elevator or the stairs? How long would either option take? You grow antsy and you finally open the door to check the hallway only to find him standing on your welcome mat, fist raised mid-knock.

Without thinking, you grab his lapel and kiss him hard. Withers wasn’t lying when he said he’s wet. His lips are even colder than usual and the rain falls off his thin jacket in rivulets. You forcefully break the kiss and push him away, fuming.

“Astarion Ancunín, you did not just show up to my doorstep in the fucking rain like we live in some gods damned romcom!” you scold him, and he just stares at you with the most pathetic gleam in his wet, round eyes.

“I don’t… sorry, what?” It seems like he was prepared for you to yell at him, but not about that specifically. You huff and roll your eyes, pulling him into your apartment dramatically.

“You’re getting water everywhere. Give me your jacket, take off your shoes, and tell me what the fuck happened,” you grumble, and his fingers fumble along his jacket buttons as he awkwardly kicks off his sopping shoes. You’re only taking a tiny bit of satisfaction at seeing him this flustered and uncomfortable.

Scratch had hopped off the couch as soon as you opened the door, and now he trots up to Astarion, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue.

“You… got a dog?” he asks blankly, and you yank his jacket off his shoulders with maybe a little more force than necessary.

“Yeah, I got lonely,” you spit, trying to sound angry, but just comes off as sad. He looks away from you, ashamed, and you sigh as you hang up his coat. “Please just… What happened? Did I cross a line, or something?” Your voice is very small, and he whirls on you suddenly.

“No!” he almost shouts, but he catches himself quickly. “No, please, I don’t want you to think that, not for a second. Can we sit?” He gestures to your couch and you follow his lead. Scratch jumps onto the couch between you, excited for double pets. You gently push him off and point to his bed.

“Not now, bud. Go lie down, me and… my good boy need to talk.” You smile to yourself and Astarion’s ears twitch self-consciously. You had planned to let him speak first but the words tumble out of you without any forethought. “Can I just say that I’m so sorry if I freaked you out, I never want to put you in an uncomfortable position like that, and I never even actually meant to say it in the first place.”

Astarion looks ready to interrupt you but stops suddenly. “Oh, you– you didn’t? Well of course, I- obviously–” he splutters uncharacteristically before you clap your hands over your mouth, realizing your mistake.

“I mean, no, I did, like I wanted to say it, I just didn’t want to say it like that,” you clarify quickly, and Astarion visibly relaxes. He takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his wet hair, giving it an unusual slicked back look.

“For two centuries, my body did not belong to me. Not just as a thrall to Cazador,” he spits the name again, in almost the exact same tone as the last time. “But to his victims that I would need to… seduce in order to lure them back to his castle.” His eyes go unfocused and you’re not sure the best way to comfort him. After a moment’s hesitation, you settle your hand on his knee and rub small soothing circles with your thumb. He blinks as he returns to reality, his gaze shifting to you before the corners of his mouth turn up in the smallest hint of a smile.

“Astarion, I… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry,” you finally say, your voice breaking. He takes your hand and shakes his head.

“It’s hardly the worst thing that happened, and also not what I’m trying to say,” he says with a humorless laugh. “No, I mean after I gained my freedom, I grew very selfish. All that mattered was my comfort, my desires, my safety.”

“But that makes sense! You had everything ripped away from you, you deserved a little selfishness.” You get suddenly heated, almost like you’re defending Astarion against someone who isn’t there.

“Perhaps, but it was an easy way to grow lonely and bitter. After all, no one had ever looked out for me, so why should I waste my time caring about anyone else? I could harness my well-honed skills of seduction to get what I wanted with no regard to the consequences it might have on others. It was easy, and I was very good at it.” Astarion looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face, and you shrink back slightly under the intensity of his gaze.

“But you immediately saw right through me. That was a rare occurrence, and I was infatuated with the novelty. None of my old standbys worked on you. I needed to get creative in my methods to seduce you. Which led to perhaps my most ill-advised scheme yet.” He looks at you meaningfully, and you don’t need more than that to know that he’s talking about the night he took you to see Taming.

“When I realized my mistake, it should have been all too easy to move on, find a new mark. But I… simply didn’t want to. The thought of no longer spending time together felt awful. I felt awful.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting off a headache. You chew on your lip, trying to figure out where he’s going with all of this. You open your mouth several times to ask a question, but close it as the words die on your tongue. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he continues.

“So when you said… what you said,” he murmurs, still unable to repeat the words, “something in me… broke, I suppose. Maybe it was something that needed to break. But whatever it was, I lost control of it, and I was embarrassed. And, frankly, terrified. So I left.”

You look at him, his brow furrowed, wringing his hands in discomfort, his eyes darting around the room, and suddenly the whole situation strikes you as hysterical. The laughter bubbles out of you before you can stop it, and Astarion looks at you with concern while you cover your mouth with your hand and your shoulders begin to silently shake. When you finally manage to get your giggles under control, you stare at him with wild eyes.

“Astarion, I spent five years of my life with the worst fucking person imaginable. Never once did it feel like he cared about what I wanted. But I told him I loved him anyway, ‘cause I guess, I thought I was supposed to?” You grip his knee as your eyes begin to well with giddy tears. “And here you are, calling yourself selfish, when you care more about what I want than anyone else ever did.” You begin to laugh again, the absurdity overtaking you, and Astarion’s frown deepens. “You understood me so well that you crafted every single aspect of an entire evening and got the exact reaction that you expected. Was it fucked up? Yeah, completely! But it still showed me the lengths you were willing to go to give me something that I wanted. Something that I didn’t even know I wanted.”

You sit back and the tears begin to earnestly fall. Astarion stares at you helplessly as you laugh-cry uncontrollably, everything overtaking you at once. He finally decides to pull you into his lap and you bury your face into his chest, your tears falling onto his already damp shirt.

You have no idea how long he holds you for, but eventually you regain control of your breath and mutter, “You idiot,” before pulling him into a kiss. You tangle your fingers into his wet hair, and his hands, unsteady at first, finally rest on your lower back. You break the kiss and hum against his lips, “You don’t need to say it back. And I’ll say it as much or as little as you want. Oh!” You suddenly leap off the couch and over to the kitchen to grab Astarion’s glasses which are still sitting on the counter, staring at you every morning as you gradually learn how to grind and press your own coffee.

You bring them over to him and straddle his lap as you awkwardly put them on his face, almost poking his eye out in the process. “Now why in the hells would a vampire with perfect vision need glasses?” Your tone is playfully accusatory.

“Would you believe me if I said that they make English academics take me more seriously?” he asks with a bashful grin. You brush your fingers through his hair, styling the front into his more standard swoop.

“I absolutely believe you, they’re weirdos.” You run a finger over the arm of his glasses and to his ear, and he shudders. “You used to wear your wire frame ones a lot more, what happened to those?”

“You told me that you liked these,” he replies like it’s the most obvious answer in the world, and your cheeks flush. “Why, do you like the other ones more?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his, letting your tongue swipe gently across his still chilled skin. “I like you,” you breathe, keeping your faces in close proximity. He rests his hands on your hips and pulls away, studying you carefully. Then, in a low voice, he says, “There’s a box in the lining of my jacket. Can you grab it for me, darling?”

Panic begins to set in. Box? Wait, no, hold on. You’ve barely gotten up the nerve to say I love you, you’re not ready for marriage, is he joking? Does he really think he’s in a romcom?

He watches your face cycle through emotions like a rolodex and he laughs. “It’s not a ring, don’t worry.”

“Gods above, Astarion, you can’t do that to me, I’m very fragile,” you say on a shaky exhale before standing up and retrieving his coat. You reach into the inner pocket and pull out a flat square box, around five or six inches in diameter. He stands and comes up behind you, resting his hands on your waist and peering over your shoulder.

You open the box and nestled in red satin is a thin leather choker with a dangling o-ring. You look back at him over your shoulder and his grin widens.

“Star, is this–” the words catch on your tongue as you turn back around to face him. He gently lifts the collar out of the box and slips it around your neck, his hands sliding into your hair once it’s fastened. He kisses you, softly at first, but soon you pull him into you, kissing him back hard. You deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips and puncturing it with his fang. A drop of blood mixes into your mouths and he tries to suppress a whimper, his hands tightening in your hair.

Then, almost as quickly as it escalated, he brings the kiss back to tender, cupping the back of your head gently. He turns you back around, facing the mirror for you to see your flushed and well-kissed face, your heavy-lidded eyes, and the thin strip of leather around your neck. You see your hair get brushed from your shoulder by a seemingly invisible force and feel his lips pressed against your ear.

“I love you, too.”

*~*~*

@viowolf @blueguildhunter @blissliz @genderearthquake @arianna-irwynarn @moochiepoo @duskrosecreatesstuff @imjiminiebean @queenofcarrotflowers-s @communistfries @0atcakes @alcidence @pursuitseternal @marlowethebard @preciouslittlebhaalbae @rigorssamsa @marvellover-12 @gylving @beepersteeper @wisteriaofthegraves

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orangekittyenergy · 3 months

Note

I just know Gale is so down bad for Tav by the time they finally get together in Act 2 that he acts like a starved man. But, what is even better is when Tav acts the same and Gale realizes Tav is just a desperate for him? He loses his mind.

Thank you for listening to my rambling about the wizard. I am so down bad for him 😭

No, thank you!!! ❤️ I'm always down to listen and ramble in turn about the magic man! (Also sorry this took forever to answer! Lost in the drafts!)

But yessss, Gale is so damn pent up and ready he couldn't not go hard with his love when finally able to express it. I think that's why his love scene hits like a fucking sledgehammer. It's SO romantic and SO hot because he's so down bad for Tav but still trying to remain a touch composed about it until he knows they feel the same. He's so pent up and has had so many emotions he shoved away that he finally FINALLY gets the chance to express and does the absolute everything he can.

It's also why I love that line about 'would've done things properly ' because he's retaining just enough of that doubt he has to not just go crazy on Tav but make sure they know he's serious about them and this isn't just a 'we're about to die, so let's fuck' kind of thing.

It's all the yearning and buildup and desperation and emotion and then BAM! It's just so perfect. And all the angsty pining before, and lingering touches, sneaky glances; it makes them all so much better. Argh I just love it so much. 😩

(it also makes all the smut so much better! Like that man is FERAL for Tav and would ravish them again and again when able)

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #rambles #his love scene is so hot #the smut about him will never get old #the man is walking definition of the word passion #ugh

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propenseverbosity · 4 months

Note

Gale demi essay when? 👀

WELL SINCE YOU ASKED XD (Seriously thank you <3)

I think Gale Dekarios is Demisexual and here is why:

First things first. The man is devoted. When he loves, he gives his entire heart and soul to his partner. He thrives on a deep connection, and we're all aware of the nerd rizz that drew us to him in the first place.

However, the man is also damn-near OBLIVIOUS when someone starts to flirt with him. It takes a literal mind-reading connection for him to understand that Tav MIGHT like him (because of course picturing kissing him with passion isn't enough to 100% confirm! /s)

"But Gale still has sex with the player" you might ask me. And you are would be correct, but being aspec/demi isn't just about not having sex with someone, it's a lack of attraction until a deep emotional bond is formed. And I do believe Gale forms that bond with Tav before sex happens in act 2.

Some may say that he's just holding back because of the orb, but with the way he seems genuinely surprised that Tav flirts with him at the Tiefling Party, I think he's just using the orb as an excuse to not move things too fast.

Even after the orb is cured, it takes some time (and some water-testing bold flirtations in the shadowlands) to confirm that they're both on the same page before he takes anything further.

When he finally does confess his true feelings to Tav, he doesn't just hit them with an "I love you." No no, that's too vague. He has to give them the full "I'm in love with you." just so they know he means it with his entire orb-filled chest.

He talks about how he wishes they had more time. How "if things were different" he would have taken the time to do things properly, because, as he also says, he cannot change who he is, or how he loves. (let me tell you, as an ace, that line hits HARD)

This is just a side note but if you tell him his kissing is 'out of practice', he says he wishes you two had more time to practice together, and the thoughts of Gale spending time devoted exclusively to kissing his partner, without the pressure or expectations of anything more... You see where I'm going with this (I hope)

Not to mention, even after feelings (and a feelings-cementing kiss) have been exchanged, and he knows Tav feels the same way, he still feels the need to deepen that bond even further before they take things all the way!

He takes them on a magical tour of his home T_T to show them where he came from through what little glimpses into his life he can share. He could just get down to the magical sex part, but he wants Tav to know him in every way.

Physically, emotionally, even spiritually! Gale Dekarios doesn't JUST have sex (unless that is what Tav prefers) he will fuse their souls together in the Weave until they are together as one. (Also, as an ace myself, I think the Weave Sex is fascinating in the fact that there's a way to bond with a partner without using physical bodies. I wish that were real tbh, it sounds very cool!!!)

He knows they don't have the time to act out whatever romantic timeline he had in his head when he first caught feelings (At the very least he hoped to take them on an actual DATE first) but he wants to make damn sure he expresses his love for Tav in the only way he can, with what little time they have left.

Anyway Demi Gale thoughts live in my head rent free, thank you for letting me rant about this on main.

#behold my demi gale essay #gale headcanons #bg3 gale #gale romance #gale x tav #bg3 spoilers #gale dekarios #demisexual #headcanoning aspec characters my beloved #I didn't even proofread this #I saw the ask in my inbox and started typing immediately

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avocado-writing · 7 months

Note

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

*eats your words*

no but seriously, your writing has me kicking my feet when I’m supposed to be typing an essay 😞‼️ I was wondering if you could do some headcanons for the companions x monk! Tav who, when being confessed to, Tav responds with “it’ll pass”?

basically fleabag inspired 😍‼️ please and thank you! stay safe n warm 🔫

OH GOD HEARTBREAKING i tried to make it have a happy ending tho!!! enjoy! and I'm so glad that you enjoy my writing! (mild nsfw mentions)

writing as if you're saying this because you think you wouldn't be the best option for their future, one way or another, and want to try and soften the blow for them by replying like this. you only want them to be happy and you're scared it can't be with you.

Astarion

you cup his face, and the look in your eyes is so, so sad.

you think perhaps your simple nomadic lifestyle will not be enough for him. you love him, you do, but he needs someone more modern. more cosmopolitan.

when you tell him it will pass you see a myriad of expressions cross his face: sadness, confusion, anger... but finally, resolve.

he takes your hand in his, firmly.

"my heart. I know when things will pass, and when they won't. my love for you is not some trifle, a fashion to be abandoned like it would go out of style. I mean it. I can make my own decisions, and I have decided where I want to be. It's with you."

he reaches out to embrace you. you're surprised, but let him do it anyway, and you bury your face into his neck to hide your emotions.

maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.

you hold him tighter than ever that night.

Gale

you're worried he is too smart for you. that he will get bored of you, and the idea breaks your heart.

you tell him "it'll pass" when he confesses because you're scared.

seems actually offended that you'd tell him his love for you might be fleeting.

"there are things which will span the ages. stories, gods, heroes. my love for you is one of them. I do not confess that lightly. you are a beacon of hope in my life, love... and that will never fade."

goes on for some time afterwards about how committed he is and how much he loves you, until eventually you accept that he's not going anywhere.

bloody wizards, so good with their words...

fall asleep that night after having the most intimate lovemaking session, all about feeling each other's breath and heartbeats.

he is here to stay, forever.

Wyll

wyll deserves someone amazing. someone who could handle his life if he became duke, and you're scared you'll let him down.

when you tell him 'it'll pass' he is hurt, and leaves the conversation for a moment. you think perhaps it is for the best. you don't need this to cause any more pain.

but later he comes to find you and asks if he can have a private moment. you find out he wasn't hiding from you but preparing: he has a little intimate picnic set up where you can sit and be alone.

when you're comfortable he tells you about how deep his love is, how fate has thrown you together.

"there is nothing about how i feel about you that could pass. nothing."

to prove his point, he slips to his knee, and that is when he proposes.

you're overcome with emotion. you have to accept how committed to you he is, and work out if you deserve something as fierce as his love.

there are tears in your eyes when you accept. you never think his love will pass again.

Karlach

probably the hardest one to say this too. together, your future is so uncertain. it will be easier to break it off here rather than maim both of you.

gets angry. in fact, goes into a rage. tears up the surroundings, and for a moment you're taken aback--

but then she turns and she's sobbing, stuck at the midpoint between being apoplectic and brokenhearted.

"you don't get to decide that for me! you don't! you're the first person i've loved... I've touched... I've felt anything for, for a fucking decade! when i feel this, it doesn't fade! how dare you think about yourself like that? as if you're some sort of phase?"

eventually she calms down enough but bursts into tears instead. you go to hold her and she embraces you so tightly that the wind is knocked from your body.

"i love you. i won't leave you. don't leave me." her voice is tiny.

how could you ever say no? how could you ever doubt her?

when the two of you are in Avernus, you're reminded of this moment, and so glad she fought against it. you'd trade this away for nothing.

Lae'zel

would she want someone like you? long term? she's so brave, so fierce. what if you're not good enough? what if your relationship develops only for you to let her down?

she gets angry too, but quieter.

is furious that you would question her affection.

"githyanki do not give their devotion lightly. the fact that you think my love for you could pass makes me wonder how well you know me."

it turns into an argument where you try and explain your side, and she's angry at you for thinking this way.

eventually it descends into angrily making out. some fierce lovemaking. her saying how much she loves you, possesses you, between every bite and kiss.

you lie in the afterglow. she says she will not leave, and pretty much tells you that you won't either. you agree, and tangle your hand with hers.

Shadowheart

tries to hide how hurt she is.

yes, Shar is the lady of loss, but the idea of losing you... of not having you in her life? unthinkable.

you only tried to tell her it will pass so that, if she wishes to become a dark justiciar, she will have no lingering attachment to you after.

and yet...

it is blasphemy for her, but she refuses to let you go.

"no. i won't allow it. i can't believe this will fade between us. you are the most precious thing to me. stay."

you're weak for her, end up tumbling into bed, reconfirming your love for each other.

you never quite believe that this is forever until she changes her hair, embraces selune. then your heart is full of joy. and it is full of Shadowheart.

#shadowheart x tav #shadowheart x reader #lae'zel x tav #lae'zel x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #my writing #request

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rottedberries · 1 year

Text

One of One: Part 1

Summary - It's been two months since Astarion has left your camp since that night in Cazador's palace where everything went wrong. In the events of severely misguided judgement you find yourself bleeding out in a dark alley, in his arms one last time, spending your last fleeting moments with him.

Tags - Hurt / comfort, angst, depictions of death and dying, happy ending, vampire tav, nb tav

Notes - I accidentally picked the wrong option when trying to talk Astarion out of the ascension, and got told to die before he left my party forever. Me and my sister couldn't stop thinking about him regretting his actions once he came back to his senses and soon after this piece was born. I wanted it to be a short 3k piece, but as always I went overboard. There will be a part 2, but hopefully for now this will suffice.

Word Count - 5,832

AO3 Link

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

He left, and he was gone. You tried to not act like a dog, a lovesick puppy waiting for its owner to return home, but you couldn’t help yourself. Ever since that night in Cazador’s palace, your dreams had been filled with nightmares, and wishes that had yet to come true. Waking up to find the red tent adorned with gaudy pillows and spilled goblets of blood that you loved oh so much, back in the place that it belonged in your camp. But instead, all that laid was an empty spot where the drops of rain soaked the ground underneath leaving a stench of mud and rocks. Completely washing away whatever of Astarion’s scent used to linger.

It was because of that empty spot, the more you looked at it, the more your head span. You could only focus on your mistakes of that night, and everything that went wrong. If only you had tried harder . There could have been better words to say, now that everything was over and done with. Hindsight was 20/20, but in the moment it seemed like every thought, every word died out on the tip of your tongue as fast as you tried to will them out of your mouth.

In front of you, was someone you loved, overcome with want and power. So toxic that it clung to the air in thick waves in a way that made the blood spilled from the enemies just defeated more potent than before. When you found yourself staring into Astarion’s eyes, you couldn’t see the man that you were talking to outside the palace a few hours prior. His eyes now bright with bloodlust, yet empty…with something else, lying there underneath the surface. Something you couldn’t quite pick out as much as you tried. And as you stared at him, trying to decipher it, Astarion just stared back…begging, in a voice so demanding, yet childlike…so desperate.

The emotions flooding the room, the thoughts clouding your head, it was too much for you to wrap your head around. Fear clogged up your throat, and airways, making the simplest breaths the hardest to gasp for. You couldn’t find rhyme or reason to deny him. There was no logic in your brain that could describe why this was wrong , you just knew it was.

Instead of trying to reason, to beg, to reach out to that scared boy trapped in a body adorned with 200 years worth of scars, you stood still, and denied. Giving no reason, just your feet planted firmly on the ground, not even finding it in yourself to move or reach out.

And he begged . He begged even harder than he had before…the softest ‘ please ’ falling from his lips.

Yet you still found yourself saying no.

Then it was all over. You watched as Astarion dug his fangs into Cazador’s neck, drinking up his blood before driving a knife into his heart over and over and over again, screaming with every pierce and new puncture wound. All that was left was a room stained in blood, and anguished cries that pierced your heart so deep you found pressure building behind your eyes, threatening to let loose as well. And what came after were words filled with hatred, an expression forever burned into your memory that you still see it every time you close your eyes.

‘ I’m done with you. I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.’

You tried, you really did try to get Astarion back after that. Your feet were finally able to move, and you pushed them as hard as you could, as fast as you could go. Your hands outstretched, trying to grab onto his shoulder, arm- the waistline of his pants. But he didn’t care, he didn’t even spare you a look; just carelessly shoved you off of him and left.

That was the last time you had seen him.

You don’t have the exact date of the last time you saw him, but it had to have been at least a month by now…maybe two. With Astarion’s bright and sardonic personality missing from the camp, it seemed like the days had started to blend together. While you still had the rest of your party, and you were thankful they were alive and well, you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you had driven out the one person you cared for most.

Since then, you had become brash, reckless, and careless. A part of you couldn’t tell if it's because you wanted to punish yourself for being a horrible leader, or if you’d simply lost the ability to care about the world saving adventure you had found yourself on.

Lae’Zel had already had more than a few choice words for you, and recently it seems they were getting stronger and more rude as time went on and the more you kept messing up. Everyone else barely bit their tongues either. Even someone like Shadowheart who had been with you when it happened, getting a first hand show at the fight that took place, was starting to get fed up with you. Her temper becoming shorter, until she had finally found you and cornered you against a wall in camp last night.

“We’re all going through our own problems while also having to deal with the Absolute, and you have been nothing but supportive and helping with everyone here- I’d probably be dead without your guidance.”

She started off, it was something small and sweet, which only made you dread her words when she continued the rest of her sentence.

“And I want to be there for you too while you deal with your own pain- but quite frankly, you’re going to get us killed at this point. I didn’t make it this far to have someone make some brain dead decisions right at the end.

I am more willing to lend an ear, to help in whatever way I can, but if you don’t reach out and proceed on this suicide mission then I’m out…and I’m sure a lot of the others are going to be too.”

There was a pause of silence, you could barely meet her eyes, let alone reply. Whatever choice she gave you to reply and defend yourself, you didn’t take. You just let her keep going.

“I don’t know what you and Astarion had going on, but it was obviously something very special. It sucks that he’s not around anymore, but if you let this cost your life- cost everything we have worked for up to this point - then I have severely misjudged your intelligence and your priorities. Get it together.”

With her lecture out of the way, she was gone, stalking off back towards her tent.

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be angry at her words and accusations. Because she wasn’t wrong. And you had been anything but a leader for the past few months, yet somehow your team stayed. Though all those thoughts met little nothing to now and you wished it did.

It was another day, or night technically, and it had been one of the best ones in awhile. Taking Shadowheart’s words into consideration, you tried your best to be better. It was obvious your mind still wasn’t in it all the way, but at least the day had passed without any misjudged bow shots into your teammates backs instead of the enemies; or conversations that turned into fights when they could’ve easily been schmoozed out of.

Dinner had recently ended, and everyone had retreated to their tents or their cots for the night. You found yourself on your back, staring absently at the night sky, heavy with dark rain clouds, threatening to spill torrential rain at any second. The cold chill of an upcoming storm was already blowing itself through camps, lifting up tarps and trying its best to put out the campfire. You were already restless tonight, but the howling of the wind only made it worse. Every sharp sting of air flying past you and biting at your face only made it harder, every time you tried to slip your head under the blanket you just ended up feeling claustrophobic and suffocated. There was no winning.

So you were left with your head outside, facing the cold night. Every few minutes you would toss back and forth on your sides, and on your back. You’d sit up, fluff your pillow, and lay back down somehow more uncomfortable than before. You did everything from trying to count sheep, to singing your favorite songs in your head to get yourself to relax. After a couple hours though, it was no use. The rain started not long ago, but the soft pitter of the drops on the ground was a hindrance to your focus on sleeping instead of a welcomed white noise. When it was obvious that you weren’t sleeping for a while, you saw no point in keeping on trying. The fire has burnt down to its bare embers, it was cold and dark and suddenly you were craving the warmth of the indoors and maybe an alcoholic drink to really warm the cold emptiness that lingers inside your chest.

It's with that thought that creeps up and lingers in your brain for the majority of the hour that finally gets you up, urging you to slip on your shoes and grab your backpack, slipping in some gold and your journal. Your camp clothes will have to do for now, as you don’t see much of a point to get properly dressed in your gear to go sit down and drink somewhere. It’s after you have everything packed up when you grab a hooded cloak from your chest and leave the camp quietly, adventuring back to the lower city.

You arrive at the pub just in time for the rain to change from a steady downpour of small drops to a cacophony of large wet globs pelting against the windows and roof top, making itself heard even over the cheering and loud laughter of everyone's drunken banter. You slip inside easily enough, removing your hood once you’re fully inside. It only takes a moment to take in the sight in front of the you- red faced patrons clinking their mugs and letting sour liquid spill onto their hands. The strong scent of alcohol seeping from everyone's breaths mixed with the fresh cooked food swimming through the air. There’s a mixture of singing and dancing as everyone is in high spirits, but also hushed, serious conversations taking place in the corner of the room. Passed out strangers, sleeping away the night with their head in their arms at the tables tucked away.

This was perfect.

Busy enough that the background of people will keep your mind from wandering to unwanted thoughts. It also meant no one would pay attention to you.

“What will it be?” The bartender asks as you make your way up to the counter. Her lips are pursed, she looks tired, and a bit on edge. It was obvious her shift had been going on for too long, but she was trying her best to keep a friendly facade up.

“Rum.” You speak back plainly, as you drop a bag of gold on the counter. “The entire bottle preferably.”

She nods, not even giving any cheeky commentary akin to ‘rough day?’ like you would expect someone to comment when buying a whole bottle of alcohol for yourself. Instead she grabs the bottle from under the counter and slams it down with a silver cup before pocketing the gold pieces handed to her.

“Holler if you need anything, dear,” She draws out in a slow and monotone voice.

You don’t bother saying anything else to her as you grab the neck of the bottle and the handle of the cup before making your way to a dark quiet corner of the tavern and sitting yourself on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs. You make sure to get your space set up before you crack open the lid on the bottle. Pulling out your journal and the small portable jar of ink and quill you brought before finally pouring your first drink.

You take a deep breath, steady yourself as the deep liquid looks back at you. For a second you swear you can see your reflection in the liquid, empty eyes, dark bags, a hideous frown. It just gives you more of an incentive to drink, to forget for just a little bit.

Down the hatch.

With a deep breath, you gulp down the first shot of rum and suppress a shudder at the pungent taste, how it burns your throat and thickly coats your mouth in consistency of syrup, yet tastes like stale sugar. You take pleasure in the warmth that soon comes after though, spreading from your core to your hands and feet. You can already feel the pleasant tingle of your nerves finally relaxing, of your body accepting the alcohol as a substitute for a human’s touch, like the big hug you’ve been yearning for.

You can’t help but take another shot right away.

If you’re being honest, you can’t tell how much time has passed. It’s had to at least have been an hour or two, maybe more. The tavern had cleared out a little bit, but it was still quite busy. Even with a few less faces, the chatting and laughter seemed to be louder than when you first entered. It doesn’t bother you, you had quickly let it become background noise as you buried yourself in your journal and shots of Rum.

Already the bottle was a 4th gone, and while you felt pretty coherent at the moment you could tell that the effects would be hitting you sooner than later. It was only at this point in your tipsy state that you realized maybe you should’ve left a note at camp or something, in case you couldn’t find your way back there tonight.

It was fine.

Your body had a good auto pilot, it was good at getting where it needed to be even when you didn’t know what was going on.

The thought quickly fades as you pour yourself another drink and gulp it down, before going back to cataloging your thoughts on paper.

You’re wet.

Wet with rain.

But not just rain.

There’s something else there.

Thick, reeking of copper, and metal.

You cough and more of it spits up, overwhelming your senses as you empty the contents onto the ground in front of you.

Red, so much red. More red than you have ever remembered coughing up before in battle.

That’s when the dread finally washes over you like a harsh slap to the face. It is more sobering than any other remedy you have ever tried in your life. It’s then you go from barely existing in reality, seeing everything through a blurred lens to being too aware of everything around you, snapping back into yourself like you never have done before.

You’re outside, far away from the tavern, but still in the Lower City. You barely recognize where you are, but if you had to guess you were trying to make it back to camp, but not doing a good job at it. With every step your whole body shakes. Putting weight on your ankle makes you want to topple over. It has to be at least sprained, if not broken. You pull out your hands to examine them and instantly notice they’re swollen. Red, puffy, knuckles, sporting drops of blood from the small cracks in the skin. Your head pounds not unlike when getting your head smashed into a wall, and lifting your hand up to your head you can feel a bump before you hiss at the pain of touching the blossoming bruises starting to take place.

This wasn’t good.

From the small amount of damage you could assess on your body you could already tell this was bad.

You feel like you’re on death's doorstep, moments away from collapsing and perishing in the streets. Every small shuffle with your feet feels like you were pushing your body to its extreme limits and pretty soon it was about to give up.

There’s no way to heal yourself, you didn’t pack any potions and all the shops are closed for the night.

The panic is dulled because of the alcohol, but is still present, you feel yourself freaking out in your core. Camp isn’t far, but there’s a part of you that’s certain you won’t be able to make it. You could try crawling, dragging yourself with your arms, but that seems more unlikely than trying to just walk the rest of the way there.

Maybe you could make it. Not all hope is lost yet, you’ve been in worse situations.

It’s right after the small sliver of hope you try to will and grab onto, that the world seems determined to prove you wrong. Another set of coughs destroy your body, sending you off balance as you bend in half to grip your aching ribs. More blood spills from your mouth and joins the rain on the concrete below you. You cough, and cough, and more comes out, it's seemingly endless, and when you’re done, you’re left feeling lightheaded and like you need a long nap. Just simple sleep.

Your body is at its limits. You’re not even halfway to camp. There’s no way out of this one this time.

You really fucked yourself.

You must really be on a suicide mission if you’re dumb enough to get black out and start a fight at the bar. At least you went out fighting, you hoped you at least took one or two of them down with you. You could feel it in your body how you were outnumbered though, bruises and cuts sprouting from all over your body.

There was no way you were ever going to win.

Maybe you just wanted someone to put you out of your misery so you didn’t have to do it yourself.

You’re barely able to make it to the alley on your left as you stumble your way between two buildings. Your body trips on nothing and slams into the stone wall, making you fall to the ground ungracefully as ever. With the last strength in your body, you pull yourself into a sitting position, slouching against the wall, but quickly slump back over.

The wall is spinning, the sky is spinning, you feel like you’re going in circles. The rain is more cold than ever, and you pull your cloak tighter around your body, but it seems to just trap in the chill. You cough, and more blood spills out. Your head pounds, your chest aches, and your ankle moans in pain.

Maybe if you’re lucky some poor fucker will see you and take pity on your sad self. Maybe if you just close your eyes, you’ll be able to gain enough strength to make the way back to camp and you can have Shadowheart patch you up.

Just a few minutes.

That’s all…

It can’t end here…

But you can’t push yourself any further for now…

You just need to rest real fast…

That’s all….

….

You feel yourself on the very edge, your final breath lingering on the tips of your lips as you try to give way to sleep, but something is calling out your name.

You really must be dying.

The voice sounds faintly like Astarion.

It’s pathetic how even on your deathbed you can only think about him. Your dying vision is him calling out for you one last time.

The voice continues to get louder, and you feel like every shout is leading you closer to death, your hallucination slowly becoming more reality than dream. There comes a point where it becomes too real though, and your brain fights itself between accepting this dream and realizing this was real. A thick shadow looms over you, blocking out the lights from outside the alley. The voice is loud in your ear, panicked and calling out louder than before.

He couldn’t really be here, right?

Astarion wanted nothing to do with you before, there’s no way he’s calling out now.

He said he hoped you died screaming.

If we really were here, he should be laughing, delighted that he got the chance to see your body withering away on the streets by random chance.

“...As-tarion….?” You croak out, your voice so hoarse from coughing that it's barely there anymore. It’s stupid to hope, you’re probably just talking to air, but you try anyways. If this is real, then this is your last chance.

The figure is kneeling now, right by your body. A gentle hand scoops under your head, and another hooks under knees before your body is being shifted. You wince but let yourself be manhandled, it’s not like you have much of a choice or can put up a fight. You’re pulled into a lap, you can feel crossed legs underneath you, against your back. One arm continues to cradle your neck and keep your head up, while the other frees the wet hair sticking to your face.

This has to be real right? Your body wouldn’t move like this on its own.

“As-” You open your mouth to try and call out to him again, but you’re quickly stopped with a finger being pushed to your lips and a quiet ‘shh’ noise.

“Yes, it's me.” He speaks.

“What are you- Why are you-” You have so many questions, that your mind can’t choose which one to ask first. You’re still trying to comprehend if this is true.

Because he’s here, he’s actually here. You can feel his hands all over you, his body pressed up against yours. You see him, feel him, hear him. In some twist of cruel fate, he came back. All it took was you ending your life for him to show up again. You can’t decide if it’s worth it. Because you get one last chance to see his smile, how his laugh lines move as his lips quirk upward. You get one last chance to see his expressive eyes that seem to give him away when he’s not quite 100% in the act he’s putting on. You get one more chance to finally apologize, to say all the things you’ve been thinking about for weeks.

“ I’m so sorry-” You find yourself saying. If you’re going to die, at least maybe you can get the apology you’ve been practicing in your head before it's all over.

“I never meant…God, I’m so sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you can feel yourself getting choked up. Your already sore throat hurts even more, but you keep pushing. You need to get this out.

“You were hurting, and I turned you down- wouldn’t even say anything- just denied you.” Your mouth is moving faster than your brain, the rehearsed apology being quickly thrown out the window. You’re going to die soon, you need to get this out now before you’re gone forever. “I was just…scared- and I didn’t know what to do- I-I fucked up though and made you think I wasn’t on your side..I’m-God- I’m sorry-”

You feel tears slide down your face and they burn the tender bruises forming on your cheeks, but you can’t stop. You keep blabbering, saying the same three sentences over and over again, not being able to comprehend anything, just trying to talk, to get him to forgive you. And eventually, there’s another set of fingers being placed on your lips, shushing you again. And you quiet right away, you feel like you can barely breathe.

“It’s- Okay.” He seems choked up, lost in his own thoughts. He takes a second to work out his words, but you can tell he is thinking hard about them. His voice isn’t filled with malice like it was last time. It’s soft, and gentle this time. It’s serious.

“I see that now.” He finally decides on his words, and loosely shifts in his arms to stare up at his face.

It really is him .

“I was so focused on something that I had been denied for so long…I let it control all my thoughts and actions. I didn’t realize how far gone I was. I just wanted…revenge…to get my life back. To feel in control for once. I couldn’t take being denied that again, and I didn’t want anyone who wouldn’t support me. I just wanted…closure.”

As he talks, you stare at him and take everything about him in. The rain has let up, the clouds finally parting just enough for the moonlight to peek through. It shines brightly on Astarion’s hair, casting a halo highlight. His eyes are soft, but the deep red that you love. His expression changes with every single word he speaks, a frown tugging at his lips as he talks to you. He’s beautiful. He’s more beautiful than you remember.

“But I left, and it didn’t take me long to calm down and realize my mistake. You were right . And I didn’t notice at the time..but you were scared. I keep playing that night over in my head and - Gods - I can only see how terrified you were. I did that… ” his voice fades out, and you feel more tears slip down your face.

This can’t be real. This is a dream. Because Astarion is pouring his heart out to you, holding you in his arms, apologizing while you’re on your deathbed.

It’s like a cliche dream come true, the best case scenario you could have pictured when you think about your death.

It feels so real though. It has to be.

“I made you scared. I never want to do that again. But I couldn’t bring myself to come back…not yet at least. I would never forgive anyone if acted the way to me that I acted towards you-”

“I’ve prayed every night that you would come back- you’ve been in my dreams- you’ve-” You cut him off, needing him to know how much you want him back. How much you forgive him, but you can’t talk long before you heave a heavy cough and can feel even more blood sliding down the corner of your lips.

“ Gods.. ”He breathes out a heavy, heartbroken sigh as he thumbs away the blood soiling your face.

His touch is the lightest thing you’ve ever felt, especially after the beating you suffered earlier in the night. Your whole body screams in pain, but every place that he touches is a personal cure all, you don’t feel any pain at all in his arms. His hands aren’t warm, yet somehow they are warming your body, filling you up like the alcohol did, but ten times stronger. You can feel your stomach flipping over itself, fluttering at every touch. You missed him so much.

“What happened to you?” He asks in shock, holding your face, sliding his thumb along your cheek to catch whatever stray tears linger as he stares into your eyes.

“I…don’t…know…” You admit, pitifully, darting your eyes away from his as you answer the question.

He raises an eyebrow at you, wordlessly encouraging you to keep talking. So you do, as best as you can. You speak in short, simple sentences, your apology from before taking the most of your brain power and energy. You explain drinking to clear your thoughts, and coming back to on the street. You talk about the pain in your ankle, in your chest and hands. He looks at you the entire time, his face morphing into different expressions as you retell certain parts of your night and you can feel the judgment from him seeping into your bones…though the care he has for you over powers it. The gentle feeling of fingers carding through your hair, detangling the strands, the gentle rubbing motion of his fingers on your arm. It’s like he’s single handedly feeding warmth back into your body, even if it isn’t enough to keep you alive, it's enough to prolong your death.

“What are you doing out here?” You ask at the end of your explanation, not giving him a chance to comment on your decision making skills of the night. Maybe he’ll stay with you until you fade away. That would be nice, dying in his arms. You couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to go.

“Making my way to the woods…” He starts, and quickly fades off leaving you to fill the blank.

Oh right, he must be starving. Back to animals, you were guessing. You almost feel guilty for doing that to him, even though he was the one that left in the first place. Your eyebrows just shoot up and your eyes widen at his response as you nod ever so slightly, telling him you understand.

“Were you ever going to come back?” You ask after another beat of silence.

You really shouldn’t be talking, but you can’t help but keep asking questions. You need answers, and you need your own closure. You need to lay here, life slowly draining your body and listen to his voice as it carries you into the afterlife. You can already feel your eyes get heavier with every word you breathe out. You can feel air being harder to take in, just becoming shallow and soft.

“I- '' It seems like he is going to respond seriously, but can sense the change in your condition and suddenly his calm demeanor completely switches as he cries out, not being able to keep his act going anymore.

“You’re fucking dying!”

He screams into the night, at your face and you frown. You are dying, it's not by your choice and you’d change if you could.

“- fuck-! ” He cries out, and you feel the gentle presence of a healing spell being washed over you. But, it doesn’t do much, just takes you back from the edge of blacking out. Your vision clears for a moment, yet your body still aches, and you can barely breathe. Blood still leaks from your mouth. The only difference is your eyes don’t feel so heavy anymore.

“We need to get you back, hold on-” His grip tightens on you, and you use all the strength you have in your body to reach out and wrap your hand around his arm to get his attention and shake your head.

“Don’t move…I’m not going to make it…” Your voice gets quieter with every word, it seems your vocal chords are finally giving out on you.

“I came here to die like a pathetic stray animal once I realized I had no chance.”

He washes another light spell over you, but just like before it only helps for a few seconds before you go back to feeling worse than ever.

“There’s no way you’re giving up now. ” He speaks through gritted teeth, annoyance and disbelief fills him. “After everything? A stupid bar fight is what puts an end to you?”

You want to laugh because it's true. What a pathetic way to go out.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

His eyes narrow at your choice of words and you swear if a light breeze of wind wouldn’t currently knock you on your ass, he would reach out and swat at your arm.

“No. No, this isn’t the end.”

Astarion attempts to stand again, but just like before you shoot your hand out to stop him, pleading with his name on your lips. He stops once more and looks down at you, wide eyes of terror meeting your own.

“I mean it…it’s over for me, I wouldn’t even make it- and the others don’t need to see me like this. Just let them think I ran off on my own in the middle of the night or something-”

Astarion opens his mouth to interject, but you stop him and keep talking with the last strength you have in your body.

“Please…just stay here…” You take a break to wheeze in a pathetic breath of air, and continue. “I don’t ask for much…just, this is perfect. You are all I need. Just one last kiss, and send me off on my way.”

He wants to fight, you see it in every bone in his body. But he’s at a loss, he can either leave you and let you die alone, or follow your wishes. It’s obvious if he tries to take you to camp you’ll fight the whole way there. This alley is your deathbed, that’s all there is too it.

“...Fine…” He relents, with another heartbroken sigh. His eyes are on your face, soaking up your features because it's the last time he’s ever going to get to see them.

His fingers trace the curve of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose and rough skin of your lips. They run across your eyelashes, and smooth over your eyebrows. They dance along your neck, and make their way to your collar bones before moving up to your ear, playing with the cartilage of it. Every move he makes is practiced, purposeful, calculated. He has intent with every touch, his face twisting into something so serious and focused as he stares down at you. As his fingers move and continue to spread warmth and love into your body, he starts to lean down and you try your best to meet him halfway. He stops you though, and tells you to let him do all the work. Eventually you feel his lips against yours.

Something so soft, a feather like kiss that almost feels like it wasn’t even there in the first place. You let his breath take your last as you breathe into his mouth. You move ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, to grab more of him, take whatever you can before it's too late. You strain yourself, pushing yourself over the edge as you lift your arm and wrap it around his neck, letting yourself play with the soaked white curls at the nape of his neck. He sighs in content and kisses you deeper, taking every bit of strength that you have left.

You feel the world fading around you, slowly but sure coming to a halt. Everything is starting to feel dull, his touch, his heat, the cold air outside…it's all starting to feel so far away. And you’re realizing you’re ready. All you wanted was one last kiss and you’d be set.

Astarion pulls away as your eyes blink, and slip closed for one last time.

The last sensation you feel before you’re pulled under is a deep, sharp shooting pain in your neck.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #reader x astarion #igs writing #true vampire astarion #bg3 spoilers #bag3 act 3 spoilers

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