#she's the mean to halsin's way too nice

[wylstarion]

i'm stuck awake thinking about a bloodweave fine dining AU with bitchy lead server astarion and a smug sous chef gale. They butt heads a little in the beginning because Gale is a bit of a hard ass about the menu and Astarion doesn't care about anything other than making tips. Astarion pretty quickly wins over Gale though by bringing him drinks and snacks during the rush, always coming with a gift in hand when a table wants a ridiculous modification. Gale starts sneaking food to Astarion when it's slow just to make sure he's eaten because he sees him working long hours with no breaks. Gale finding Astarion crying in the walk in after a particularly hard day and just holding him tight while they both freeze. Taking smoke breaks together to share a cigarette after close. Going for drinks after work and getting a little too tipsy, stumbling home together while laughing about all the ridiculous people they dealt with today. Gale finds himself looking forward to working with Astarion every day. Eventually they stop bickering and just start flirting so much at work that everyone around them is just WAITING for them to finally kiss and get it over with. Also Karlach as a food runner who just has to WATCH them eye fuck eachother every time Astarion comes into the kitchen and she has to refrain from telling them to get a goddamn room.

[sorcerous-caress]

Type of romantic gifts they'd give you

[Bg3, fluff, nb!reader]

[Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Shadowheart, Astarion, Laezel, Halsin, Minthara, Karniss]

Wyll

Flowers. Each bouquet conveys a different meaning and tells a hundred tales about his feelings for you. From the petal colours to the delicate ribbon holding the stems together, not a single detail was overlooked.

Enteries to both worlds. Invites to the most eloquent galas reserved for the noble class, elegent clothes and glittering jewellery. And warm heartfelt welcomes into the most popular tavrens for adventurers, even the dangerous ones greet you and Wyll with cold drinks and a warm meal.

A shoulder to lean on, someone to be your own hero. The royalty treatment becomes the norm for you, a quiet dance in your shared home, swaying slowly as the rain scatters against the windows outside.

.

Karlach

Cheesy handmade coupons for hugs. Physical affection is a big part of the way she shows love, yet no hugs feel better than the ones she knows both of you want, rather than only her. These hand drawn coupons are to give her reassurance in a way that you also crave her embrace as much as she does.

Taking you out to her favourite spots. Introducing you to all her past and current friends. Absolutely involving you in every aspect of her inner circles and slowly integrating you into her world. She wants all the people that she loves to know each other, to be there, and to support each other. Friends, family, and neighbours, she craves a community.

Carrying your stuff. Be it your bags, equipment, or anything. She enjoys being strong for you, never letting you lift a heavy thing ever. Giving you her jacket if you get cold, even switching your shoes if yours are uncomfortable. Dress however you want, she knows how to fight after all.

.

Gale

Homecooked meals. Frozen soup in food containers. You'll never go hungry with him around. Love is a major ingredient in each dish he makes, recipes passed down from generations. Restaurants' food becomes dull in comparison. No bakery dessert can compare to his home baked pie.

A picnic near the sea side. It's windy, the air is refreshing and nice. Waves come crashing gently, almost brushing against your feet before retreating back. Tara purrs in your lap, her wings warming your hand underneath it as you scratch her fur. Gale is by your side, telling you about a new discovery he made in his research. Content in staying by your side despite the crown laying at the bottom of the ocean in front of you.

Constellations seeming brighter, the sky looks as if it held twice as many stars than usual. There's a sparkle in his eyes, wrinkles at their edges from his smile.

.

Shadowheart

Wine/non-alcoholic drinks and sweets. She has a taste for delicacies and sharing them with you. Whatever she picks, it's always somehow very rich in flavour, melts against the tongue, and the aftertaste is an experience by itself.

Takes you to her home, visiting her parents who welcomed you as if you were another child of theirs. For the first time in her life, she has a family, and she wants to include you in it. You are a part of it, after all. A part of her.

Nursing your sickness away, sticking with you through thick and thin. Even at your most ill of states. She doesn't pat an eye at you throwing up, sneezing, or not having the energy to shower. She helps you through it. She never judges you over it, unconditional love in its purest forms as she ensures your recovery.

.

Astarion

Precious poetry he wrote himself. As much as he scoffs over anything too chessy, he can't help using his mother tongue and spinning endless lines about you in elvish in his private journal. On the rare occasion, giving you a glimpse through it. Pretending to leave his journal open by pure coincidence in front of you, on the exact page of the peom with your name on it.

The both of you traverse the underdark. He takes you to a special spot he found under a sussur tree. The blue glow of the silver branches lights up the edges of his hair like a halo, and your eyelids feel heavy with your head on his lap.

Stiching the holes in your clothes. Maintaining them in his free time and making sure they are cared for. Each piece that might hold a sentimental value to you or a precious memory receives special treatment from him. Sometimes, he stiches a joke or two into your undergarments that you don't realise until much later on.

.

Laezel

Gifts you a sharp and expertly smithed sword. Silver in colour with various ruby red stones decorating the handle, it feels at home in your grip, specifically made for your hands.

Takes you as her guide through Faerun, let's you introduce her to the places you love, the things you like. You can tell her interest is genuine, he curiosity is evident as she tries everything you recommend to her.

Reads to you, each night she'd indulge your curiosities and read one of the many githyanki literature disks you've accumulated. Her voice never tires, she pronounces each word with care and emotion. It's beyond soothing, even her comments inbetween narrating the story never fail to make you smile.

.

Halsin

Blessings of nature extend to you as well. The birds don't fly away when you approach, the tree branches don't get caught in your clothes, and the bugs take a polite detour around you as they crawl. He shares the love he received with you.

You've never seen so many children rush to you before, look up to you with respect, and search for guidance. He grants you the opportunity to raise the ones who will hold the torch after us, to imped your wisdom upon them, and help shape a better future.

Never growing cold again, buried deep against his soft fur as gaint bear paws hold you so softly. Despite the pouring snow outside, you sink deeper into his warm embrace. Cute round ears flicker in the corner of your vision, and you can't help but rub them alongside his soft belly.

.

Minthara

jewellery, each one is unique and more expensive than the last. Various earrings with pearls and necklaces with glittering diamonds. Even a special one that hugs your neck deliciously, with her name on it. Body accessories hugging your curves and wrapping around you. A pair of matching rings.

Takes you into her heart, behind the iron walls, behind the mazes of ice. Shows you her tender beating vulnerable flesh, the small kindness she protected so fiercely and hid from the world. Her true love, yours for the taking and yours alone.

The disembodied heads of your enemies in a gift box wrapped for you, everyone who has ever wronged you has their skulls displayed on the shelves. She becomes your blade, your sword and shield.

.

Karniss

Prayers. Offers them to you as he kneels, talking in a hushed tone as he begs a greater being for your safety, for your heart, and for you love. For their blessings upon him to shield you from the darkness, his split mind making him seeth in anger and hatred at all those who dared hurt or question you.

Brings you to his nest, a small cave with tight webs shielding the entrance. He teaches you how to slip through them, holds you close as he lifts you in his arms and makes passage inside. You're a very welcome addition to his home, his sanctuary.

Gifts you his venom regularly. Whether it's a kiss as his fangs slip past your soft lips and bleed venom down your throat, or a bite into the soft flesh of your neck that injects it directly into your veins. He builds up your resistance slowly so he may protect you from himself and anyone who tries to steal your life away.

[avocado-writing]

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 💕

[hijackalx]

BG3 NON-COMPANIONS/NON-ORIGIN COMPANIONS TURN ONS/KINKS +18

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

characters included: halsin, minthara, jaheira, gortash

*dark content warning for gortash*

HALSIN

SIZE DIFFERENCE

OBVIOUSLYYYY lmao. he loves how small u are in comparison to him. i mean everything about him is large— hands, arms, chest, thighs. also, i feel like he likes that he has to help u when u take control because ur smaller or weaker than him. like, when he has to subtly help u pin his wrists by moving them in the direction u want lol

THIGH RIDING

this also plays into the size difference thing. like his thigh is just so big/muscular, and he loves watching u grind on it (or he can bounce his knee to help u get off too). the type to grab u by ur hips and assist u when ur rhythm starts to stutter. he also loves the wet spot that forms in ur underwear if u keep them on 💗

DEEP THROATING/FACESITTING

OK HE LOVES BOTH like i said everything about him is large (😈) so he loves to see u try to swallow him whole. the way u gag and struggle to take him in is soooo hot to him. also all the drool that spills out of ur mouth 🤤🤤 as for facesitting u better sit ur ass tf DOWN !! HE CAN TAKE IT !! lovessss when u grind on his face/mouth, also loves to squeeze ur ass during it

THREESOME

THIS MAN IS GENEROUS !!! LOVES to share !! always wanting to invite people to have sex with y'all. he feels like it's so much more fun and also loves to watch u get fucked/have u watch him get fucked. will want to do spit roasting too.

SWINGING

sooo into exchanging partners with other couples. or just fucking other people in general. of course he won't do this if u don't want to though. but he gets really excited if u do 😹😹 probably gets off while sharing ur experiences with each other

MINTHARA

KNIFE PLAY

likes the way u shake and whimper as she brings her knife close to ur skin. will leave small cuts and want to carve her initials into ur skin. also slightly into bloodplay too ?? i feel like she'd be into smearing ur blood on her hands and making u clean them off with ur tongue OOF

BONDAGE

she would absolutely cast web and use it as bondage restraints LMAO. will have u in some crazyyy positions too. kind of in a shibari way but with webs. the webs are actually pretty gentle though and have some give so she's not like, totally sadistic with it 😌💗

DACRYPHILIA

SHE DOES LIKE TO SEE U CRY THOUGH LMAO like something about how weak/pathetic u look turns her on so bad— as long as SHE'S the one that made u cry. if it's because of somebody or something else it's lowkey a boner killer for her 😹😹😹 will say really horrible, mean things to try to bring u to tears and then get wet af. will not comfort u after either

GAGGING

likes to use a ball gag but will honestly use whatever she has at the moment. a rag or her fingers even. she likes that u can't speak and can only moan/whimper. also into the way u drool. will purposely ask u questions and then punish/degrade u for not being able to answer

BOOT WORSHIP

LOVESSS making u kiss her boots. will want to hold u down with her boot and make u praise her endlessly. or step on ur face. might even be into giving u a little kick in the diaphragm if u want 😹😹😹

JAHEIRA

MIRROR SEX

WILL WANT TO BE FUCKED IN FRONT OF A MIRROR!!!! with her face pressed against it while she's getting backshots or even with one propped up beside the bed so she can watch how good she looks while she rides u. lowkey will put on a show for herself and get off to it 😹😹

LINGERIE

loves lingerie of all kinds. the garter straps on her thighs are her favorite part tbh. probably prefers to wear black or red— like classically sexy colors. also probably likes it if u wear some too, and will want to keep it on for the full duration of the sex. LOVES lace

STRIPPING

^^ ALTHOUGH.... she also really likes to strip for u. like going nice and slow while u try to restrain urself lol. will probably give u a lap dance too and is pretty playful with it sometimes. particularly loves to see how u get progressively more horny the longer she takes, also into seeing u touch urself a little bit during it too

NIPPLE PLAY

sucking on/playing with her nipples is a MUST. HUGEEEE erogenous zone for her. can probably cum from nipple stimulation alone. likes when u make it hurt a little too, like pinching or twisting them

DEGRADATION

kind of into u calling her names.... like whore or slut. tell her she's a dirty whore while u pull her hair and fuck her from behind. will also talk down to u if ur not really doing the best job LMAO like u better fuck her right or ur gonna get it 😹😹 she'll straight up be like "is that the best u can do?" or "this is pathetic."

BONUS:

GORTASH

BREEDING

HE NEEDS HEIRRRSSSS !!! ALWAYS wants to cum inside. an actual babymaking MONSTER like he cums so much its crazy. loves to see u stuffed full of his cum, it really makes him feels accomplished after all of his hard work 💪🏻💯😹

DADDY DOM

he is so into being called daddy. depending on the context he’ll get rock hard but also likes if u call him that outside of sex too. u can basically get anything u want from him if u add a ‘please daddy’ at the end of it— like he just can’t bring himself to say no. he’ll do anything for u to keep calling him that lol

*** DUBCON ***

DEFINITELY into coercing u/figuring out ways to get what he wants. likes when u get overstimulated and start telling him it’s too much or trying to push him away (u do have a safeword). also the fact that he can overpower u if he wants gets him sooo hard

POWER PLAY

LOVESSS having u at his beck and call. the more pliant and submissive u are the better. won’t do this outside of the bedroom unless u want to or if u initiate it since he prefers the idea of only him being able to see u like that. he’s the only one you’ll roll over for, so to speak lol

COLLARING

makes a special collar for u with expensive imported materials and shit lmao. thinks u look absolutely gorgeous in it and will tell u that all the time. loves the way u gasp when he sharply tugs on its leash. will also tug on it while giving u backshots. likes how it chokes u a little bit too, and the bruises it leaves behind when he’s too rough with it

MALE BG3 COMPANIONS

FEMALE BG3 COMPANIONS

[whathebeep]

Okay so like the perma death of Tav and how it would affect the party-

Just cause my Tav died during the end boss and it got me thinking (SPOILERS FOR SURE) (definitely romance centric around poly Tav/Astarion/Halsin)

The party definitely doesn't fully comprehend it at first. Oh it's fine, Shadowheart has revivify- no? It won't work? Right okay we have the scrolls- oh. Okay well we can bring them back to Withers- what do you mean you can't?

That's it. That's the end, and Tav is dead and gone, cold to the touch.

Astarion is in shock. He doesn't believe it, won't believe it- he gets angry at Withers. Yells and screams until his voice his hoarse and angry hot tears are running down his face until he drops to his knees and sobs. Tav's body is on a bed or a stone slab, and he just kneels and cries next to Tav. Squeezes their hand, begs, pleads with them for you to come back. Don't take them, take me- let them live, let them stay, I can't do this without them. Halsin stays with him, by your side, the two comforting each other through their tears and the loss of their love. He cries until he's weak and tired and can't bring himself to move- Halsin feeds him and brings him to bed. He cries at the smell of you on his pillow; you were his sun and now you were gone.

Gale is quiet. Gale comforts the others, makes sure everyone else's needs are being met. He makes Tav's favourite meal that night for everyone at camp- probably something like a nice hearty stew with potatoes and beef. After he's sure everyone else is fed and has drank water/blood, he returns to his tent to eat alone. He closes his tent and quietly cries. He doesn't eat.

Wyll? Wyll carries Tav back to camp- perhaps with the help of Lae'zel. He feels how cold your skin is, and he does his best to hold it together. He sees how deep your wounds are, how blue your lips are. He's unsure if you died before you hit the water, or if you succumbed to your injuries before Halsin pulled you out- but he feels the weight in his chest. You were a hero. Baldur's Gate deserved the privilege to know your face, to hear your laughter. You would've been knighted, you would be a hero to the people. They couldn't of done it without you, and now you were gone. He knew it before they even reached Withers. Wyll didn't sleep that night, rather staying up and tending to the fire.

Shadowheart knew it too. When she tries to revivify Tav and there was nothing, she knew there was no hope. She lingered when the party started back to camp with your body. Shadowheart made her way back to the now empty house of grief and picks night orchids. She takes her time coming back. Camp is quiet when she returns. She feels the familiar wisps of sorrow grasping at the edge of her mind- she is reminded of Shar, and the urge to forget. She won't go back- both for herself and for you. She brings you the night orchids and leaves them in your hands.

Halsin pulled you from the water. He was the first to realize you hadn't surfaced and swam down for you. Minsc realized quickly too and helped him bring you back to shore. Upon the return to camp and the cold hard truth from Withers, he's hurting. His heart hurts. Halsin falls into old habits, hard. He comforts Astarion first and foremost, putting his needs second. He did this at the grove, too. He realizes this and finally breaks, crying as he holds Astarion, the two at your bedside. He lets them fall, he hugs Astarion close, he prays to Silvanus- not to bring you back- he of course knows you are gone. He prays to Silvanus to meet you someday again, be it in the afterlife or if your soul comes back to this plane as something else. When Astarion is too weak to move and needs to go to his bed, Halsin carries him back to his tent. He holds Astarion as Astarion feeds on him, before laying him down to sleep. He leaves, returning with wildflowers to weave into your hair, before returning to bed with Astarion.

Karlach rages. She's violent for hours on end- punching trees, her upgraded engine burning so hot that her tears sizzle if they fall on her skin. She spent 10 years in the hells, 10 goddamn years with absolutely no one- you were the first person to give her a chance. You were her friend. You stood up for her time and time again, you saved her from needing to go back- and now you're gone. She punches a tree and scratches at it and yells angry things in infernal. Her rage only simmers when Scratch and your owlbear cub come to her- she collapsed against the tree and holds them both, crying as her engine starts to cool.

Lae'zel is quiet. She helps Wyll carry you back- she might not be the best at reading emotions, at telling what is happening- but she's seen death before. She realized you were gone when Minsc and Halsin pulled you out. You were a hero- you saved her people, you saved her prince, you saved /her/. And now you were gone. She wonders if you felt as scared as she was, when the tadpole was the greatest threat to them back on the Nautiloid. She knows she didn't say it, but she considered you a true friend. She comes to you later in the night to lay your weapon in your hands. She notices the orchids, and leaves them within your hands as well before going to sit at the fire with Wyll. She's quiet.

Minsc? Minsc is optimistic. He's not stupid- he holds out hope you'll be fine, reassuring the others while they walk back to camp. Surely you were fine, Withers would make sure of it! But when Withers tells everyone the truth, Minsc isn't angry. He feels the sadness, Boo does too- they go to the shore and sit to stare at the water. Minsc has been around for awhile- he knows the finality of death. He, in a way, knows Tav will be okay. That you will return as a bird or a baby or maybe you won't, and you'll await them all in the final death- and he and Boo mourn you.

Jaheira is the one to arrange the coffin for Tav. She's familiar with the process- she's done it many times before for Harpers. She's gone all night getting an oak coffin for your burial, and returns with a few men in the early hours of the next morning. They move Tav into the coffin, careful not to disturb the weapon you held and the numerous flowers. Jaheira sheds tears for you- she brings you medicine, laying the plants in your casket around your head. Lilacs and lavender, cedar and sage cradle Tav's head in the coffin. She thanks you for the lives you saved, the ones you've avenged- for doing what you could.

When the funeral happens, the cathedral is full. When the dust settled and word of your deeds, of your battle, of your sacrifice spread across the city, hundreds come to mourn Tav. Tav the great, Tav the hero, Tav the brainslayer. Tav is knighted before the burial, and is buried in a cemetery in the upper city amongst other heroes of Baldur's Gate. Church bells ring, and taverns are filled with people drinking and singing in Tav's honour. Bards have somehow already come up with songs of Tav and the group- and truly, while the party will remain together, their hearts bleed for the leader they lost.

[zwolfgames]

Goblin camp overtake (drabble) Platonic!Yandere!BG3 x Teen!Reader

(Hopefully it's a bit accurate because ive only played the story twice for now so i dunno all the posibilities.)

Summary: Teen!reader and the squad go take defeat the goblins. Therefore meeting Halsin, and Minthara again.

Warnings: Death (obv), mentions of gore, Goblins

Other related BG3 by me: Intro

The sun was shining, the flowers in the forest were blooming... On days like this, kids like you had been tasked with commuting genocide on the local goblins.

Not that you really cared. They were little shitheads... Stole your laundry once back when you lived with your mom... before all this...

But getting closer to this alleged camp wasn't making you any more at ease. You could already imagine the stench of those sweaty creatures when you have to inevitably walk into that camp. Which you've heard is actually just an old temple.

You've noticed over time that people in your little group have gotten... well, friendlier. For example: Lae'zel was no longer throwing you glares, Shadowheart remembered your name, Astarion has indoctrinated you into his schemes... Yea, the three most hostile people had warmed up to you.

And the other have just... always been quite nice.

Well, Wyll still didn't seem to approve of you, a minor, coming along. But he didn't really have a choice as the others were not allowing him to take you back to the Emerald Grove. Guess they really do find you too funny to lose then.

"Ugh, the stench is disgusting." Karlach waves the air under her nose away.

"It is the smell of a goblin camp. What were you expecting? Tchk. And I myself find this odor quite thrilling. It promises of a good fight." Lae'zel slightly smirks. Clawed hands flexing around the handle of her greatsword.

"Of course you do... Tough the smell of blood has never scared me away." Astarion, in turn, chuckles in that weird posh way. You raise a brow.

"So you're sure you're not a vampire?" You question sarcastically. The pale elf gasps in mock offense.

"Of course not. I merely like the smell." He huffs. Right, so that time you saw him hunt down a boar must have been make belief.

The rest of the party didn't comment anymore as you made your way to the camp.

Gale had thrown his arm around your shoulder to keep you at the back. He excused that as 'magic users stay behind so they can asses the battlefield'. But he probably just didn't want to accidently get Lae'zels sword through his back.

This mission to save some druid calmed Halsin was looking like a total hassle. But hey, why not do side quests while the worm in your head is ready to kill you?

Whatever person lives in your head didn't take kindly to your remark as you heard the voice say they'd protect you.

Right, bullshit. You're just developing pshycosis. A hundred percent that.

"Y/N. If they target you, I want you to run, alright?" Wyll speaks calmly.

"Well, I mean, not that I don't want to but were kind of in this together -" You start nonchalantly.

"Don't listen to the human. It is unhonerable to run from a fight." Lae'zel scolds like a lecturing general.

Well, do you really care about your honor? It's not like you're trying to capture the Avatar here-

"Yea yea, got it, boss." You sigh. The slight stress makes its way to your head. It's just some goblins, right? Nothing a good magic missile can't solve... Right?

You take back your words quite quickly when Astarion smooth talks his way past the outside security to let your group pass. There's like... at least fifty goblins here!

You feel an arm slitter around your shoulders. Looking up, you can see Lae'zels warry face.

She's gripping that greatsword quite harshly, a bit scared, maybe? Tough you doubt it, it's Lae'zel..

You ignore the stink eyes these little creatures are throwing you and walk along with your group.

"My, what a festive place, no? Look, they even have booze." Astarion muses with his typical smug grin.

"We're not here to party." Gale groans. The wizard stares at the goblins in distaste. You note that everyone is on edge

A goblin child sticks her tingue out at you, so you do the same, blowing raspberries for good meassure. This action earns you a dissaproving look by Wyll.

"So where's this druid? I don't want to be here any longer then needed." Shadowheart complains with a little wave infront of her nose to showcase that she thinks this place stinks.. Wich it does.

"Let's ask!" Karlach offers her idea.

"You've got to be the most optimistic person I've met and we have a literal child in the group." Gale groans.

"You can't miss any of the chances you take." Karlach shrugs.

"Let's just gut all of them. I'm sure we can search for the druid in peace then." Astarion smirks.

"For once, I agree with the pale one." Lae'zel sneers.

You watch your group bicker a bit longer as you wander out of the grip you had been put in. Walking around the goblin camp instead.

Mhh, a clear booze tub. They're drunk. Quite ideal.

You scan around the area, a certain tall woman catches your eye, seeing as she isn't a goblin.

Wait a minute, you've met her before! She almost killed you on the beach when the Nautiloid crashed!

The nerve of that woman, she doesn't deserve the same hairstyle as your mother.

Astarion had snuk out of the argument your group of idiots was having right in the middle of the goblin camp. He stuck himself to your side, observing along with you.

"You seem... focussed. You have an idea, do you not?" The pale elf asks smoothly.

"An inkling. They're drinking, and Nettie gave us wyvern poison... I mean...?" You let your gaze travel to the booze tub. Astarions red eyed orbs follow along. You can see a sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

"I just know we're going to be great friends, Y/N.." He smirks and puts a cold hand on your shoulder.

You just smile in satisfaction that your plan is apparently good. Before you know it, Astarions snatched the poison out of Shadowhearts pocket. You watch the man go invisible to presumably go dunk the booze in poison. Or maybe he's gonna drink it... But he never seemed suicidal... So it should be fine.

"Y/N, c'mon, we're going into the temple, the druid should be there." Karlach waves you over.

You nod and join the group again. Getting tucked back under someone's shoulder.

The first leader of the Goblins you had met was a priestess. And oh boy, defenitly not your favourite... She wanted to brand you! Is she nuts!?

So anyways, Lae'zel chopped her head off... Uh... props to Wyll for covering your eyes.

Then there was Dror Ragzlin. Scary guy that one. Almost twice your size, mean face and doing necromancy. Yikes.

Unfortunatly, you did have to help in this fight. There were goblins storming in through the door and well just that beast of an orc.

So you you just started blasting spells at the incoming goblins. Fireball and Ice Knife were a nice combo, no? Make em slip and then steam the ice and do damage? Sounds logical to you. Was anyone else smelling barbeque or just you?

When that got taken care of, Karlach strapped a helmet to your head and lead you back to the group.

The last leader was the same woman that had tried to kill you. Minthara, apparently. You've never seen a real drow, so this was cool. Except for the part where she tried to kill all of you. That wasn't that cool...

Just before she was supposed to just die, Lae'zel had accidently hit one of the wooden beams in the room. The ceiling collapsed right infront of you.

Well, maybe she's dead? Atleast it's not your problem anymore?

After all the goblins inside had straight up been slayed, Astarion joined the group once more, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Where have you been?" Gale asks sternly. Raising an eyebrow in suspiscion. It's still quite annoying that nobody really trusts anyone here..

"Let's just say the situation outside is taken care off." Astarion boasts proudly.

"Really? And you did that, alone?" Shadowheart states in a disbelieving tone. Gods forbid the fancy man does anything impressive.

"Yes! Is that so hard to believe?" Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Very." Shadowheart argues back.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Lae'zel adds.

Wyll and Karlach just exchange glances. Well you know that he did it. So there's no need for your input-

"Ahhh!" You eep in fear as a large man had appeared behind you. Wich is very scary considering every one in this temple was supposed to be dead.

"Calm down little cub, I mean no harm." The large man smiles reasuringly.

You stagger back to Lae'zels side. This man... Elf ears.. Brown hair. Ah, druid attire? Halsin, perhaps?

"And who are you?" Shadowheart asks for all of you.

"Halsin. You were sent here to come chack on me, or are you just lost adventurers?" Halsin asks with that same smile.

"Well, we found him. Back to the grove-" Gale starts walking off before Karlach grabs the rim of his robes to keep him in the group.

"We did come here for you. Have the goblins hurt you?" Wyll asks calmly. Halsin shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle. Why the cub?" Halsin tilts his head at you.

"They're actually an immortal being in the form of a child. Wiser then any of us." Astarion makes up.

Halsin raises a brow. Clearly not believing that.

"Right. But like your little wizard said, we should get back. I am sure the grove has missed me." Halsin hums.

"Don't think so, they're closing it off frol the outside world." You mention calmly.

"What." Halsin stops smiling. You just shrug, that's all you picked up from it.

Halsin frowns and starts walking out. What determination.

Your group eventually exits the dead silent temple after having taken any valuables. Can't leave without some loot, who knows if you're getting paid!

As you walk out the large door, the death Astarion had caused is quite visible, dead goblins everywhere. R.I.P, you won't be missed.

Now that that's taken care of, who knows what adventures await you thanks to this stupid worm in your brain!

Not the best, but it's something. Yan feelings gotta develop trough the story but I'm not fully there yet.

[sassy-stupid]

Pairing: Halsin x f!reader

Angsty fluff

Word count: 1,3k

Content warnings: none as far as I'm aware, but feel free to correct me if I missed anything.

Summary: Halsin is going through it, and you're worried about him.

Okay, so seeing the vid of all the companions as barbarians changed me. Not only do I now think Halsin would be perfect as barbarian in the 'nature's wrath' typa way, I also decided to make Gale a barbarian in my next playthrough. My boy had the most pathetic little shout, and i happen to think that's great.

Anyway, here's reader getting worried about sweet druid Halsin turning into raging barbarian Halsin. There will be a part two eventually. It will be smut. Sorry guys, but i can't keep the horny in check.

Also, this is rly more of a drabble than a fic, so I'm not naming it :)

Ever since you'd been unable to save the grove, Halsin had been unable to change into an animal. This change hit the archdruid hard. Not only did this mean that Silvanus saw no chance of redemption in him, it meant the rest of his connection with nature was gone.

At least that's what he had convinced himself of. You were not so sure. You still saw the way nature seemed to respond to his presence, a spark of natural magic still present in the large elf. And yet, you also saw the rage, the new way of fighting he'd adapted to at least try to end the shadow curse alongside you.

The first time he fought by your side since the loss shook you to your core. It seemed for a second that the gentle giant had disappeared. The deep war cry that left him would have stunned you had you not also been fighting the claws of a shadow monster off.

It left an impression on you. You didn't necessarily dislike his new demeanor, but it did worry you. It simply didn't seem like him.

"Halsin!" You call out to the man as he stands next to lae'zel's tent, sharpening his newly acquired battle axe. "Come look!" You'd spotted the ducklings near the ruin in your camp before, but you'd never pointed them out to anyone before. Something about seeing Halsin with the axe made you want to take his attention off the blasted thing as soon as possible, though.

Your plan was working. He put down the axe, jogging to your side in a way that made your heart flutter. What can you say, the man was big in a way that was very attractive to you, and his normally gentle ways only endeared him to you more.

"And what is it I'm here to look at?" He asks, looking straight at you instead of looking around. The lack of his usual perception skills bothered you a bit, but at the same time, you didn't mind his attention being on you either.

"Look over there," you speak more quietly now that you're closer to the animals, not wanting to scare them off. You softly guide him closer to them when you notice he still hasn't spotted the ducklings. "Thought I saw them in the grass yesterday, but the mother finally had the courage to come out!"

The heat of his skin against yours is nice but you chastise yourself for focusing on that when your mission is distracting him, not yourself.

"Oh, younglings this late in the season? The mother has her work cut out for her if she is to keep all of them safe until adulthood." Halsin's voice seems to soften and you can almost physically feel the connection between him and nature. "Though maybe she should give up while she's ahead, protecting what is dear to you is sometimes...simply impossible."

The pain in his voice is clear to you, his eyes steeling. "There will always be new dangers to threaten it after all," Halsin speaks, a new edge entering his voice. "Always new ways to fail," anger. "Always injustice." Rage.

The increasing volume scares of the mother duck, sending the ducklings scattering across the lake. The seething man next to you seems to be too caught up in his anger to even realize. But you do, you realize maybe more than you should have.

A moments hesitation, maybe you shouldn't be getting this involved in Halsin's feelings and inner turmoil. After all you were part of the cause of it all, you'd failed to protect the Grove just as much as he had. What would you do if he turned this newfound rage to you?

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. This was no time to fear consequences to yourself. Halsin could use your help, so you have to try, even if that possibly leads to your favourite man in camp hating you.

"Halsin," you speak softly, almost like you're attempting to soothe him. "Look." The same words from before, spoken differently but accompanied with the same gentle guiding gesture.

It snaps him out of his inner spiral but the anger is clearly still there, barely even hidden beneath the surface. "I know nature has been rejecting you lately, that Silvanus has all but abandoned you." You subconsciously start stroking the man's back in an attempt to further soothe him as you try to make your point. "But this right now? It's you. You're scaring them off. I'm not sure if there's space in you for all this rage and the power of nature."

His eyes linger on your face for another while after the last words leave your lips before he diverts them back to the ducks. He doesn't speak, and for all your nerves, you're not as scared anymore. His posture became less tense and as he crouched down by the edge of the water, you see the old him again.

His hand reaches the water without disturbing it, and as the ducklings regroup near their mother, she swims up to him. You see the change in him the second she touches his hand. Like a world of weight fell off his shoulders, his burden still heavy, but bearable now.

A soft golden glow emanates from the water now, and before you can question anything, Halsin begins chuckling.

"By Silvanus, you were right! Nature never severed my ties, I was burning them with my own fury." he turns to you, still crouched by the ducks who've started nuzzling in his palm now. "You've returned an important piece of myself to me."

"I only pointed out some ducklings, Halsin. You did the rest." You send a wink his way before turning back to the rest of camp. "Oh! Does this mean I can give that sharpened axe to Karlach? She's been eyeing it," you ask, turning back to Halsin, barely noticing the blush creeping over his face. He merely nods in return, feeling his heart stir at the grin you give him.

You'd been right about the axe, Karlach's face when you handed it over to her could only be described with the same words one would use for an overjoyed child. She'd even vowed to you to keep the ribbon you'd put on the handle clean of blood so she could keep it on there.

Unbeknownst to you, as you were accepting the barbarian's expressions of gratitude, the druid that was admiring you form afar got cornered by the two other elves in camp.

"Say Halsin, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you're fawning over our dear little (y/n)." It was Astarion who spoke up first, but by her proximity, Halsin could tell Shadowheart had some words for him as well, most likely less sugar coated than Astarion's.

"She's not just our leader, Halsin," Shadowheart begins, "if you hurt her, we'll be forced to hurt you." The clear threat from the cleric was endearing to him. He liked knowing how much the others cared about you.

"Actually," Astarion continued. "I'm fairly certain if we really needed a druid on our travels, we wouldn't be too hard pressed to find one. Jaheira seems entertaining if nothing else." Astarion's thinly veiled threat was less endearing but the same thought process kept the smile on Halsin's face.

"Thank you both for stepping up like this. Though I assure you, I do not give my heart lightly, and I'm ready to offer her all of it." His eyes returned to you as he spoke, watching you fondly as Karlach lifted you into the air and swung you around.

"There is nothing in this world that could make me hurt her."

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 3

~~~

part 1, part 2

~~~

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you for the lovely comments! 🥰 Second, I’m writing this as I go, so while I’ll try to post every other day, it might come a point when I’m not done on time. Just so you know if it suddenly takes longer for the next part to be posted.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

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. And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

It’s almost sundown when you and the others are back at the camp again. It’s been a good day, all in all. You were able to stock up on potions and scrolls, and Karlach sweet-talked her way into a good deal on a handaxe. Not that you were there to watch it happen — Halsin’s favour had you talking to both the new leader of the Druids, Francesca, and Rath, the latter engaging you in a longer conversation than originally planned. Not that you minded, Rath is a good conversationalist. And quite handsome.

Yes, you did notice, but you kept it polite, not at all in the mood for flirting. Not when your thoughts continuously drifted back to a certain vampire that declined tagging along at the last minute.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but your eyes roam Halsin’s tent when you search him out to relay the information you gathered today. It’s probably a coincidence that Astarion decided to remain, but you can’t help but look for signs of someone sharing Halsin’s bed.

If Halsin sees you snooping, he doesn’t confront you about it, and you feel silly when you leave him to find the others. Who he sleeps with is none of your business, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Either you get over yourself, or you let Astarion go.

Which is easier said than done.

“Hey Karlach, let me see that axe of yours.” The rest of your party is gathered around the fire, preparing tonight’s meal. “From what I hear, I should bring you every time I need to haggle down the price for something.”

“Look at this beauty!” Karlach happily shows you her new weapon. “I’m going to polish it tomorrow, really bring out the shine it deserves.”

“How come you weren’t there, Tav?” Astarion sounds nonchalant, like he couldn’t care less but decides to ask anyway.

“I believe Tav had more important things to do.” Trust Lae’zel to come to your rescue.

“Halsin wanted some updates from the Grove,” you add.

“Mhmm, but surely that’s not the only reason why you talked for so long with Rath, Tav?” Shadowheart teases. “It seemed like you two really hit it off.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, Tav. Go for it!”

You want to look at Astarion, but you force yourself to turn your attention to Karlach instead, making sure to sound as casual as possible. “He’s nice, but…” You already have someone. “Perhaps you should go for him, Karlach, if you find him cute?”

“Nah, I have my eyes on someone else.”

It’s adorable, the way she lights up, and you wish you could hug her. “Hmmm, might this be a blacksmith we all know?”

“Tav!”

“This is secret to none, Karlach,” Lae’zel says. “Even a blind fool couldn’t help but notice the way you swooned when he helped you in the Grove.”

“I didn’t swoon!”

“There was definitely some swooning happening,” Shadowheart chimes in. “We all saw it.”

“Aaaanyway…! This was about Tav, not me.”

Dammit. You should’ve left for your tent when you had the chance. “No, no, I think we should talk more about you and Dammon.”

“Come on, Tav.”

“Yes, Tav, tell us all about your conversation with Rath.”

For a moment you somehow forgot that Astarion is there, too. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s just nice and easy to talk to.”

“Hmm, you’re not very convincing, Tav.”

With a groan, you turn to the wizard. “Not you too, Gale.” For someone so hung up on his ex, he sure looks jealous over the fact that you might be interested in someone else. “I know you all probably only mean well, but if you don’t drop this right now…”

You expect either Astarion or Lae’zel to make some kind of comment, but none of your companions say a peep. There’s an awkward silence for a few tension-filled moments and you wonder if you sounded too harsh. They only want your best, after all.

Thankfully, Shadowheart steps in, clearing her throat. “I think our food is ready.”

Once you sit down to eat, you watch them all as they talk and laugh. It feels like usual again, and you’re reminded how lucky you are to have come across such amazing people in this extraordinary situation life put you in.

Your gaze rests a little bit longer on your lover. He’s always beautiful, but it’s entrancing the way the flickering flames seem to caress his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. His smile. He’s laughing at something Lae’zel just said, and going by the look on her face, it wasn’t meant to be funny.

It’s quite the motley crew you’re leading — and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You freeze when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Astarion. He isn’t supposed to catch you staring, and you quickly look away even though you know it’s too late. You wait a few minutes, and when you glance in his direction again, he’s talking to Gale.

Why must it be so difficult? Are you making it more difficult than it needs to be? You want to be with him and only him, so why not just ask it of him? If he says no, you’ll at least know instead of always wondering. And if he says yes, maybe he’ll grow to love you back.

Once again, you wish you had someone to talk to — and after today you think you can confide in Karlach — but it feels good to have come to a decision. Hopefully you can get him alone after dinner, because you would prefer to have it done before the stargazing Gale has planned.

You allow yourself to imagine the two of you lying next to each other in the grass, holding hands, smiling. Or his arm around you, holding you near.

You refuse to think about the other option, even though it’s the far more likely outcome.

For now, you’re going to pretend that everything’s going to be alright.

[myers-meadow]

Foolish Gratitude (Rolan x Tav)

Pairing: Rolan x Tav

Summary: After you saved Rolan from the shadow people, his mood worsens. It's up to you to make him feel better. AKA Rolan hatefucks you <3

Warnings: smut, 18 +, dub-con, penetration, (mild) spanking, degrading language, fem Tav (she/her and vulva used), submissive tav, no aftercare shown in the fic, no discussion of kinks or consent, Tav is into it though ^^.

Word count: 1767

This is my first ever foray into writing Rolan 💞✨, please be nice. Reblogs and comments are very appreciated (please feed my brainrot i beg). Proofread by the very kind @gauntermetaverse - thank you! Divider by saradika-graphics.

Rolan is taking his loss hard. After that drunk night, he turns mean - doubly so after you save him from the darkness the next day.

The Last Light Inn is pleasant tonight. There's some gossip, some small hopes and dreams shared at a table, and some tears. At least there is still warm soup, you think to yourself as you sit down at a small table with a bowl full. It warms you in just the way you need it to. The rest of your companions are around, resting, playing board games, reading. Lae'zel is armwrestling whomever dares. Gale is talking to Halsin about the nature of the shadow curse. A quiet evening. Your bowl is empty, and you stand to return it to the bar.

"There we have her; our beloved hero," It could've been Raphael if it wasn't for the cruel sarcasm dripping from his every word. Rolan. "Come to the inn to gloat? To rub it into my face how much better you are?"

He's not even that drunk, but his anger is something fierce. In the past, you were understanding, kind. The man has been going through a lot. But now... Even you are losing patience in the face of his barbed words.

"Rolan," You start, your tone soft, not wanting this to escalate. "I know you're-"

He cuts you off. "No, you don't know. But I have something better in mind."

He grabs you by the fabric over your shoulder - you're in your camp clothes, no armour to protect you here - and drags you past the bar. All the while, he's hissing things at you like a cat who had her pride hurt.

To avoid escalation, you follow him willingly. Then, the door of a small food supply closet shuts and the lock clicks shut. The key clatters against the ground as Rolan drops it over his shoulder.

"A hero who doesn't know her place, that won't do..." He muses as he stands over you. A cruel smile licks at the corners of his mouth. "How fortunate I've always been a good teacher."

His tone is startling. He doesn't even seem drunk. "Rolan, that’s-" 

He clamps a hand over your mouth. He's so close that you feel his breath on your cheek as he turns your head to the side. He breathes deep. "You think you can solve everything." The grip on your cheeks is hard enough to make you feel he's gonna leave a bruise.

Your muffled sounds go ignored. Rolan chuckles, and it sends a weird tingling sensation through your lower belly.

"You're gonna have to be quiet for this lesson," He says, and with a dizzying movement, he turns you to face the wall. A warm hand gropes at your ass, through the thin fabric of that cute skirt you found in a chest at Sharess' Caress. His nails dig in. How good it feels, startles you. None too gently, he bends you over - still keeping his hand over your mouth.

"You're nothing more than any other adventurer in this inn. Yet you think you're owed all this gratitude, all this praise..." His voice curls meanly at the end. "You need to learn. To really feel where you belong." 

In his groping, he moves your skirt up and tucks in the waistband so it stays. The first slap, hard, short, without warning, has you twist against his hold, and with a muffled shout to match.

Rolan tuts. "Now, hero, is that how you take a little spanking? I would've thought you could take more. This is a disappointment, really."

The second slap lands on your other asscheek, just as stinging as the first. The third deepens the sensation. You don't struggle out of his hold, instead, you lean into it. After the fourth, he soothes your sore bum with strokes of his hand. That's far from the end, though. A fifth, a sixth, the heat increases, the stinging takes longer to leave after each slap. Seventh, eight, and you lose count. His speed increases, and your shouts of pain turn to whimpers as he tires you out.

He seems barely out of breath as he speaks again. "And that is the hero against the Absolute. Pathetic. Look at you. Whimpering after just a few meager slaps." Another sharp one lands, your whiny moan of pain punctuating his words. You're not sure you're hearing it right through the ringing in your ear, but it almost sounds like he moaned.

His hand lets go of your face, instead he pushes two fingers in your mouth. "If you can barely take a spanking, I'm not sure how you'll take this, but you owe me more than some pain."

The nails dig into your tongue, but you wet his fingers a bit too eagerly. "You want to help others, right? To serve them. You'll call me 'master', understood?"

You nod, but it's not enough. He jerks your head to the side by the fingers now hooked in your cheek.

"Yes," you manage to get out.

"Yes, what?" he grits his teeth. Another slap on your ass that feels like it's on fire.

"Yes, master." After you said it, you sigh in something close to relief that comes from the depths of your chest.

"Good. Finally you're beginning to understand." He lets go of your face fully, leaving you to feel cold without his touch. He tugs at the straps of your underwear, and the sound of fabric shifting emphasises the tension in your body. There was no way Rolan could've known your submissive streak, he really just needs to get all this pent up frustration out - somehow his wordless confidence and the lack of care for whether you enjoy it or not turns you on more. It's a primal feeling, that only very few people can unlock from within you. Exhilarating.

Something nudges between your legs, and with a start, you realise it's his cock. Even though you'd hoped this is where it was headed, had pined for him night after night, experiencing the real thing was so much more raw and real than you ever envisioned. He presses inside with little care for your comfort. It surprises you how smooth it goes in, even with you already dripping wet, it's still quite the stretch. His groan of pleasure is the most sinful thing you've ever heard.

His lips are at your ear, his tone changed completely to before. "Aren't you just good and wet for me? Filthy little slut."

Finally, his cock hits home somewhere deep inside, and the drag as he moves out is even better. "Gods, I needed this."

You can tell how much he needed this by how he wraps his arms around you, pressing your back against his chest. His horn bumps into your cheek, as he bites your bare shoulder. As slow as he went before, he seems to lose all control and sets a messy pace, slipping out and forcing himself back in again and again. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are disgusting.

"Perhaps you have some redeeming qualities yet," he says, his playful tone returning as he relaxes. His grip around your torso is crushingly tight and you try to reach down to touch your clit, whining as he won't let you. "Na-ah, your first lesson isn't even done yet, you naughty girl."

Rolan fucks you roughly, his horn keeps bumping into you but neither of you mind. Every time he thrusts in, it draws attention to your sore ass, its small edge of pain only heightens the pleasure. His groans and moans are delicious. You angle your hips to make him hit deeper and he delivers, with a bruising pace. 

“Who knew the hero would be such a good little slut? Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Rolan,” you moan, pressing your lips against his cheek. 

As much as you imagined fucking him as intense, your fantasies are nothing compared to the real thing. You moan something high-pitched as he hits just right, dragging his tip back and forth against the most sensitive parts of you. The feeling builds quickly, even without being able to touch yourself, and your breath is catching as the pleasure of being filled transcends all. 

His thrusts stutter, and although it takes great effort, he pulls out, and whirls you around. Surprised, but altogether too overwhelmed to resist him. He tugs you down to your knees. Your core throbs, yearning for him, but it’s your lips that now enjoy the taste of him. He’s salty, and you taste your own wetness on his length as he pushes himself into your mouth. When you gag, he grabs a fistful of hair, and prevents you from leaning away. No choice but to take all of him as he pumps himself in and out. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth as you try your best to please him. His groans are delightfully filthy, heavy with all his pent up emotion. Your own desire makes you light-headed. As soon as your hand darts down to your core, Rolan slaps them away. 

“What did I say? No touching.” He’s just as stern as a school teacher. Your core throbs around nothing. He groans as he makes you gag, “The others should see you now, on your knees, doing so well to please your superior.”

His grip on your hair tightens to something uncomfortable. “This just shows what can become of the high and mighty hero - ah, fuck - who amounts to nothing good without proper guidance.”

His thrusts grow sloppy, yet deep, so deep, fuck you need him inside of you so bad - he moans and pulls out. Ropes of cum land on your face, some on your tongue, or across your chest. You twitch as several flecks get in your lashes. Rolan looks so proud, smiling down on you like this, so pleased. A sense of satisfaction swells in your chest, even as you still tingle with ghosts of his touch, longing to be sated. 

Rolan bites his lip. “Such a good hero, really willing to go the extra mile for those in need…” He considers you for a moment, tracing a finger over your face. “I’m sure this is the best reward you’ve ever gotten, dear hero.” 

You’re not sure whether the curl of his lip is playful or contemptuous. After collecting enough cum on his finger, he presses it to your lips, for you to clean off for him. 

Despite, or because, of his mean expression, you say just what he wants you to say: “Thank you, master.”

[bloodiedrogue]

PROUD

SUMMARY: Halsin can’t help but indulge a bit after a particularly long day.

PAIRING: Halsin & Original Female Character (Elyra belongs to @bloodlessbhaalbabe)

WORD COUNT: 2,164

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, oral sex (fem receiving), light choking, overstimulation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Wrote this as part of a trade with Mystical! First time writing Halsin so hopefully he isn’t too out of character???

MASTERLIST

-

The mood is low. As everyone stumbles tiredly through the veil of the Last Light Inn, even Halsin can feel the ache. A throbbing touch of pain radiating through his spine, spreading across the upper portions of his back like a violent wave.

Stepping past Jaheria who welcomes them back, he can’t help but groan and reach around to try and soothe the spasms that have begun to erupt. Pushing his thumb into the knotted flesh he tries his best to alleviate the pressure to no avail, prompting a huff to escape his lips that the elven woman beside him all but frowns at.

“You sore?” she asks, staring with such deep concern that Halsin has to look away and force out a soft smile to deter her from worrying. Knowing that if she doesn’t she’ll simply forgo her own struggles to aid him in his.

“I’m fine, Elyra.”

“Excuse me, Elyra?” Narrowing her eyes, she leans forward, placing her hands defiantly on her hips as she surveys his frame. Picking apart every section of bruised skin covering aching bones until she’s satisfied with her research, prompting her to huff. “You never call me that.”

Even he can’t help but grin at that. Well aware that she’s right. It’s always dear or heart or love —terms of endearment he wishes to whisper against her flesh in the heat of the night but is unable to do so thanks to his own goals.

Goals, he can’t help but silently curse as she steps towards him, instinctively arching her back in that flirtatious manner as she presses a hand to his chest.

“You’re delirious, Halsin.”

“What, for calling you by your birth name?”

Her eyelashes flutter as she nods, and it’s at the moment he thinks he might be dying. The lack of air in his chest causing a newfound pain to spread at the same time his heart fails to keep up its usual rhythm. All while his mind does somersaults trying to find a way to avoid the temptation of her beautiful lips pulling into a wide grin.

“How about I help you out with a nice massage, huh? We could go back to my room, smoke a little bit and just hang out?”

Right off the bat, he knows he should decline. Given the lack of control he already has around her on a good day, it’s obvious that if he were to allow himself the opportunity to get that close, he’d certainly give in. Resulting in yet another distraction on his way to break the curse.

Not that he considers her to be a particularly bad distraction. In fact, despite his thoughts sometimes telling him that she’s no good for him, he knows that’s not the case. Elyra is in fact very good for him. A woman so perfect that, even though those same thoughts are currently telling him to say no and to bid her goodnight, his body merely accepts her offer with a small nod. Allowing the woman to excitedly grab his hand and pull him up the stairs with such gracious ease that by the time he’s lying on her bed, stomach first, everything thought he’s ever had is gone.

“Does transforming into all those creatures ever mess with your bones?”

Lifting his head to laugh, he then cranes his neck to see her face twisting with focus. Her eyes narrowing as the pressure of her hands glide around his back —her lips pursing once she hits a particularly rough spot.

“I suppose it does wear one down after a long day.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I mean, could you imagine having your entire skeletal system just magically shift into something else? Gods, that would be so painful.” She cringes at the thought before her eyes suddenly widen, prompting Halsin to laugh again. “Wait, I guess you do know, huh?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“No wonder your muscles are all fucked up right now,” she points out, digging her palm into a particularly rough spot that has him instinctively groaning. A low guttural noise that he knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed about, yet in the moment it’s all he can focus on.

“Sorry, should’ve warned you about that one. You’re real tight in the shoulder area.”

Clearing his throat, he’s suddenly too overwhelmed to continue, causing his body to shift to the side; her hands reluctantly moving away when their eyes inevitably meet. Pausing as he allows his weight to rest against the base of his forearm, unable to further move due to the fact that he wants to be closer.

More than anything, he wants to feel those calloused hands of hers wrapped around him, toying with his hair or fingers —pressing into the grooves of his chest as they descent to far less innocent lands.

Lands he has to force himself to forget about as he reluctantly pushes upwards, feeling the heat of Elyra’s stare become too much.

“Thank you for the massage,” he tells her then. And although he has every intention of shuffling off the edge of the bed and leaving, all he ends up doing is readjusting his position. Allowing his legs to extend and accidentally knock against her knee as she too gets on the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You seem tense, big boy.”

Almost immediately, both of them know what she means when she says it. However, Halsin being too focused, fails to comment. Instead, averting his gaze as thoughts of her circle through his mind, granting Elyra enough time to crawl towards him.

And unfortunately for Halsin, it’s a sight he can no longer ignore. As her chest is practically exposed in full thanks to the angle, the only thing he can think about is touching her. Grabbing her waist and pulling her into his lap so that he can ravish her as thanks. Which is exactly what he does without even realizing it. His body and mind failing to connect until he feels their lips collide, prompting everything inside him to restart, realizing what he’s done.

He’s passed the threshold. Not only that, but he’s fully sprinted through the room too, winding up inside her bed with no desire of stopping once he feels her teeth snagging his bottom lip, playfully pulling the skin with a grin.

“Careful, my dear heart,” he warns her, but all she does is continue. Pushing him past the point of no return in the form of hands caressing his cheeks and a tongue that seamlessly slips through to touch his own.

Which prompts him to flip her onto her back. In one quick motion, causing her to wildly laugh and tug his hair, forcing him down to capture her lips. Neither one of them wasting time as he cages her against the mattress.

“See, I knew you were tense.”

Without warning, his hand glides down her side with careful precision. The pads of his fingers applying pressure to all her plushest parts before he inevitably lands on her inner thigh. “Seems you might be as well.”

Rolling her eyes, she gives his hair another tug, demanding more. “You haven’t even touched me yet, how would you know?”

He’s tempted to make fun of her then. To tell her that every waking moment he knows because she’s the most open person he’s ever met, but then he sees the way she’s looking at him. So desperately needy and tired of waiting. So completely set on what’s to come that all he can do is hum and pry his fingers from her thigh to push her skirt out of the way.

“Would you like me to touch you?”

And for once, she’s speechless. The words failing to exit her mouth as Halsin draws a long line across the fabric laid over her cunt. The edge of his knuckle pressing against her clothed clit, refusing to move until she nods her head. An action so simple, yet impactful that despite every part of his mind screaming at him to stop —to focus on what he came here to do instead of falling further into the loving palm of this beautiful woman— he refuses. Instead, guiding his hands to respectively brush her underwear to the side, feeling the heated flesh of her pleasure practically gush in his hands.

“More… please.”

Her voice is just as breathless as his lungs. As he runs his knuckles up and down her folds, gently burrowing the bones into her crevice, he can’t help but grin. Knowing that with just the touch of his hand, he’s somehow able to bring forth something new within her. Something needy and wild —a visceral wine escaping once he uncurls his hand, tentatively pushing a finger inside.

“Tense as ever, my dear heart,” he practically whispers, leaning down to kiss her face. Pressing his lips to her cheek, then her chin, stopping at the top edge of her neck to take a deep breath. “Why I can barely get a finger in without you clenching those walls of yours.”

In response, she twitches around him. Unable to deny his claims, he can feel her give in. The pulse of her cunt wetting his fingers. The way it practically sucks him in as he proceeds to slip another one in at the same time he nips her neck with his teeth.

“So smug, aren’t you?”

Suckling the wound, he grins against her before pulling back to look at his work. To see the warmth of her cheeks spread down to the base of her chest. The heat from his curious fingers eliciting more of a response than he intended to receive.

“Not smug. Proud.”

“Proud?” She lets out a laugh, bucking up her hips when he begins to slowly pump in and out, testing the waters further.

“Proud to call you mine for the evening,” he explains, his free hand rising to grip her chin so that he can brush a finger across her lower lip. “Also, proud to know that I can render you speechless with just a touch of my hand.”

“You should be pro—oh fuck.”

His thumb circles her clit as he chuckles, watching her head fall back. The red tone of her hair resembling a fiery halo sprawled out across the wrinkled bed sheets beneath them. “Sorry, were you saying something, my love?”

He can feel her defiance through the tenseness of her muscles. Both beneath and around his fingers. Every part of her threatens to retaliate until she feels his hand lace carefully around her throat, the pressure of his fingers stopping her in her tracks.

Which only spurs him on further. Feeling the submission she offers in response to one measly touch, it’s as if every thought he’s ever had about waiting is gone. The mere idea of it exiting his mind once he begins lowering himself down, staring at her curious eyes until they vanish behind the fabric of her skirt and all he sees is her cunt.

Swollen and dripping, it’s a sight that has him feeling ravenous. A hunger so foul stirring in his stomach that he fails to wait for permission, prompting him to practically rip the fabric from her hips and dive in.

And almost immediately, another groan slips out of him. The sound reverberating off her flesh in a way that has her bucking up again, taking back control. Forcing him to work that much harder as he grabs her hips, locking her in place. Prodding her folds with his eager tongue —playfully nipping her skin in between to tease and extend her pleasure.

He can tell she hates it. Or rather, hates the patience he’s thrust upon her as he builds her up only to stop and pull away, heavily breathing against her entrance as a way to further taunt her.

“You’re a —you’re a sick bastard, Halsin, whatever your last name is… I can’t remember right now.”

He chuckles against her clit before taking it in his mouth, suckling the flesh as he eventually pushes two fingers inside again, feeling her tense. Noticing the immediate build he’s once again provided when she begins to heavily breathe and lace her fingers in his hair, begging him not to stop. To please, never stop.

So, he doesn’t. Even when she’s shaking beneath him, every muscle in her body releasing the pleasure she desperately sought to gain from him, he continues. Brutalizing every part of her cunt with languid, pressurized licks and greedy fingers that pump and curl. His body providing whatever stimulations she requires and more until they’re both spent on the bed, heaving out breaths neither of them has enough energy to gain as he slowly crawls up to rest on her plush stomach, smiling at the way her eyes narrow in false annoyance.

“I’m almost mad at the fact that you’re good at that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s gonna make waiting for that cock of yours an absolute living hell. I can already tell.”

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter 8

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “You spoil me darling, really. But I am simple man—” Rin stops him off with a look of admonishment, cutting off his sentence to start her own.

“A simple show for a simple man, then.”She hopes her emphasis on the words will speak loudly enough for him to understand the meaning of them as she mockingly bows towards him.

“I take offense to that assessment, you know.” Astarion huffs with a frown, casting his head aside to instead take a sip of his errant goblet of wine, already forgotten beside him.

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F!Tav

𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E, 18+

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 14.8k 😮‍💨

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: mentions of torture/abuse, mild descriptions of blood/gore, striptease (?), fingering, cunnilingus, vampire bites (duh), handjobs, piv sex, multiple orgasms, Soft Dom Astarion returns 😌

𝒶/𝓃: hellooooo, sorry it's taken so long for me to get this written and posted! but it's here now and I very much hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts about the chapter, too!

ao3

masterlist

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

The air is quiet, the ever-present darkness lingering around them like a stagnant weight. Rin finds that she quite hates it, no matter how lovely the promise the warmth of Last Light Inn and its alcohol is to be. 

Her fingers are poised on one of the delicate strings of her lyre as she strums it lightly, a low hum reverberating out from the instrument that fills the air with what she hopes will be something that sounds effortless, beautiful, ethereal.

She frowns at the sound of it from where she leans against a conveniently placed rock near the fire, the note falling flat as it dies in the silence of the dark night.

“You’re off.” A familiar voice echoes out from above, the sound of it supercilious and downright annoying, as she huffs out a breath in minute agitation.

With a turn of her head, Rin sends Astarion a withering look from where he lounges, imperious, on the rock right above her; a book held in his hand as he reads by the light of the roaring fire. 

“And so is your stitching, but you don’t hear me calling you out on it, now do you?”

His stitching wasn’t, of course. It was always practiced, perfect, and near precise—Astarion as good with a needle as he was with a knife or an arrow. 

But, as always, he didn’t have to know that. He has enough of an ego as it is and Rin has no intentions of adding to it unnecessarily.

Astarion flips the page with unnecessary force, his obvious agitation dragging a secret smile to her lips that she hides into the strings of her lyre. 

He really made it far too easy to tease him, sometimes.

Astarion hmphs into the nighttime air, looking astutely back down at the book in his lap in an attempt to ignore her as she bites back a laugh that threatens to break free.

Rin turns her attention back to the instrument in her hands, fingers running down the carved edge of it as her mind wanders aimlessly in the silence and she stares out at the utterly boring landscape. 

It was pretty, she supposes, if one cared for a setting devoid of most kinds of life. Ultimately, there was just not terribly much for her to look at, leaving her with nothing but the amusement of her own thoughts, much to her frustration. 

There wasn’t much left for her to do but think, it seemed.

Rin had already eaten dinner while conversing with Gale; engaged in some gossip over a glass of wine with Shadowheart; discussed the merits of carnivorous fauna with Halsin; indulged Lae’zel in a practice sparring session (which she lost quite terribly, much to Astarion’s joy and Lae’zel’s disappointment at Rin’s apparent lack of skill); shared a nice pint from the inn with Karlach; and then watched on as Astarion drained poor Wyll dry of some gold in a game of cards (she’ll have to try to figure out how to get him his money back, one way or another).

She would probably have to beg Astarion to do it—something she was not eager to do, but would for the sake of Wyll and all his noble, princely goodness. 

Perhaps she should try to steal it off of him, instead. It certainly would make for a good challenge, at the very least, provided she didn’t get caught doing it. Rin has no doubt the cost for that particular crime would be steep, one that she doesn’t know if she can afford to pay for.

Astarion already spent enough time in her thoughts as it was, the price nothing more than that of her precious yet dwindling sanity. She already feels as though she is slowly losing her mind every time she replays the events of the other night over in her head, no longer than a mere week ago.

She and Astarion had both quite politely ignored the events of that night, the memory of the closeness of their lips and the things she had said settling into the recesses of her mind as if they were nothing more than a dream, one that haunts her when she lays down her head onto her sad excuse for a pillow. 

It was a lapse in judgment, at the very least. The klauthgrass had clearly addled her mind more than she thought when she looks back on it. It’s the only logical reason she would ever had said the things she did—whether spoken from her lips or written down in a letter never to be sent. 

She also still needed to burn the damn letter, but that was neither here nor there.

What mattered was that they had settled back into their usual camaraderie, trading cutting words and sly smiles back and forth with one another as they had always done despite a brand new, gently simmering tension that now lay just underneath the surface.

But it was fine. 

Rin was nothing if not an expert at ignoring the things that were bothering her, was she not? Their little…situation was simply that. 

A situation. 

One that was easily forgettable once she set her mind to actually forgetting about it.

Rin trades that particular line of thinking out with a deep exhale, shoving it back into a conveniently placed box in a corner of her mind and instead sets to retuning the instrument in her hands, worn pine both familiar and comforting as its weight rests against her.

Her wonderful, familiar lyre that had been with her for years now, through both thick and thin. It hadn’t helped her make terribly much gold, but it had been a better friend to her than any person had over the years.

She turns the pegs on the back of it little by little, tiny twists of her fingers adjusting the strings in a way she hopes will make her next attempt at song better and not worse. 

The night flows by as she sits in the warmth of the fire, the soft crackles of the logs soothing as Rin retunes the instrument until she’s finally happy with what she hopes will be a drastic improvement to the earlier noise it had made.

With a satisfied sigh, Rin moves to strum at her lyre, fingers just about to touch the strings when a biting voice interrupts her.

“I do hope you didn’t make it worse. My poor ears can’t take much more abuse.”

Rin ignores the jab with a serene blink before deigning not to answer as her raised hand closes into a fist, nails biting into her palm as she prays to anyone listening for an ounce of patience.

In lieu of violence—despite him deserving it—she sees a perfect opportunity to turn the conversation from another of her apparent failures onto one of his instead.  

She turns to look at him with a sly look, fixing him with clever eyes alight with mischief. 

“You know, Astarion, I happened to read something quite interesting in one of the books I found at The Waning Moon.”

Astarion turns another page in his book as he feigns disinterest, but his eyes don’t scan the rows of elvish decorating the page in neatly printed rows. “Oh? Do tell, then. Was it something violent? Gory? Scandalous?” 

“Scandalous, certainly. I seem to have come across a small little volume that contained a list,” Rin’s brows waggle conspiratorially. “A list of banned patrons.”

Astarion’s interest is firmly piqued as soon as she says the words, finally looking up from the tome in his lap to focus on her, indifference giving way to a fiendish gleam in his eye.

“You should have said so from the start. Tell me more, darling, what are the offenses? Give me all the sordid details.” 

He leans in closer from his seat above her, Astarion and his flair for the dramatic never failing to amuse her and she can’t help the equally wicked smile that spreads across her lips in response.

“Most of them were ordinary—you know, the standard. Bar fights, skipping the bill, unnecessary wanton activity with a pickle. But there was one that really stuck out to me, quite a striking description frankly. I think it said something along the lines of ‘a pale elf with a snide mouth’ that apparently insulted someone of particular importance. Sound familiar?”

“Well, whoever they are sounds like they had a fantastic time to me.” His smile is devious as he smirks. “In fact, I’d say that whoever it was deserved such words.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt. I’m sure the insults thrown were of the highest calibre, as well.” 

Astarion grin is a roguish one that looks terribly handsome on his features but something heavy intercedes over the amusement in his eyes as the deeper meaning behind that seemingly small and unimportant notation sinks in.

The smirk falls slowly from Astarion’s lips, a slight darkness settling across the features of his face as the corners of his mouth turn down ever so slightly.

Ah. Of course. 

“You have no memory of ever coming here, do you?” She softens her voice, only slightly, but she has no doubt Astarion notices the change regardless.

“No. I’ve already told you I don’t have many memories from my life before Cazador,” He snaps. “But clearly I’ve here before. Obviously.”

Rin had given some thought to the presumed Astarion of before in the rare moments of peace that were few and far in between, when her mind was free to wander before sleep overtook her.��

The Astarion that existed before the tadpole, before Cazador. Back when his heart still beat and his skin was flushed with life. Astarion, with not-red eyes, wearing finely tailored silks and wools, drinking the richest of wines; for he was sure to have been wealthy. 

She had spent many years watching the upper echelons of Baldur’s Gate from her place on the streets, staring up into their windows at twilight to watch them swoon and twirl in their finery, and Astarion moved like the best of them—graceful and elegant, proud and arrogant.

He had been a magistrate, or so he had said. 

She could only trust so many of the words that come from his lips, but somehow the image of Astarion in ostentatious robes handing down whatever judgement he deemed worthy is far too easy for her to envision for her to entirely disbelieve the notion.

But he must have had a family, surely. 

Parents, siblings, friends—perhaps even a lover or two. Or three, knowing him. 

Gods forbid he had sired any children.

But the implication remains all the same. So many questions, almost all of which he may never know the answers to. 

“You should be proud, Astarion.” Rin attempts a tiny bit of levity, though it doesn’t seem to help. “An annoyance both alive and undead. Not many could ever hope to achieve such a thing.”

“Well,” he sniffs with an air of put-on pride, smile weak. “It’s nice to know I’m consistent, at least.”

“You did get thrown out of a tavern last time you were here. Perhaps this trip to sweet, little Reithwin is faring much better than the one prior. Your last visit didn’t have me present, after all.”

“My last visit was probably still more peaceful, I’d wager. I doubt I was busy being vexed by a senseless blonde bard all the while having a worm buried in my head.” His voice raises a few octaves as he narrows his eyes at her. 

She would rather have his ire than his sorrow, it’s a much better sight than the mournful look beginning to creep over his features.

“Presumably weren’t being vexed by a senseless blonde bard.” Rin shoots Astarion a small smile. “Maybe you have a type.”

He only gives a mirthless laugh in response. 

“I am sorry, Astarion. I wish you were able to remember more.”

Astarion sighs, uncharacteristically defeated and the sound of it has her chest tightening. 

“Yet another thing I can add to the unending list of things that Cazador took from me. From us.”

“Us?” Rin muses over the word, the answer to a question she had long considered but never managed to ask, not amongst the seemingly never-ending amount of things that popped up on their list to be taken care of. “So, you aren’t the only one, then? Of Cazador’s spawn, I mean.”

She briefly worries she’s overstepped an invisible boundary, that Astarion will shut her down and storm away without another word, leaving her with no answer to the question.

Her curiosity about him grows with every passing day and she simply wants to know more about him. 

Not the charming, surface level vanity he would normally put forward for her, but the real Astarion. 

The one who tells her and only her small stories about himself and his life, the one who responds to her silly little letters, the one who had thanked her, with actual gratitude, drawing of his scars in hand.

The Astarion who—for some unfathomable reason—no matter how much he may complain or insult her, still chooses her above all others to spend his time with.

Rin turns to look up at him, the straightening of his spine obvious even in the darkness of the camp. Astarion, for his part, takes her question in stride, though there’s a telltale tightness around his mouth that signals his ever-present bitterness at Cazador’s mention.

He nods, the motion stiff as Rin’s brows draw together into a frown.

“There were seven of us, in all. Brothers and sisters, as he liked to call us. Quite the family.” Astarion lets out a derisive laugh, words acrimonious as he spits them out.

Ruby red eyes look ahead, his gaze catching on nothing in particular as he stares at the barren world on the other side of the water, the landscape as bleak as his expression.

“But I was one of his first. He was a monster to us all. Tortured us. Carved the same thing into my back as he did into all of theirs. But Cazador took a special pleasure in my pain. In my screams. He said my screams sounded sweetest.”

And oh, how her heart twists to hear the fragile timbre of his voice as his breath hitches, an undercurrent of agony flowing so readily and truthful from him. 

Rin averts her eyes as his voice breaks on the last few words, settling her vision on one of the red ferns flowing in the ever-present breeze in an attempt to let him keep some of his suffering to himself, to leave some of his dignity in tact.

It’s the least she can do. 

“And now that I’m gone…I don’t know. I pity the other six.” Astarion takes a deep, bracing breath, his sorrow palpable, and Rin’s chest aches again.

She doesn’t have anything to say, and how could she?

Oh, terribly sorry you spent two centuries being tortured unendingly. That must have been awful. You didn’t deserve it, Astarion.

No, any words of consolation she has only seem to fall flat in the face of his misery. He doesn’t need her to tell him about how horrible it is, how neither he nor his siblings deserved the pain, the anguish, the endless torture that Cazador dished out on a whim to bend and break them all to his will.

The only thing Rin can think to give him is her own paltry attempt at comfort as she leans in towards him slowly until her head rests just against the side of his leg in silent consolation. 

He doesn’t like to be touched at the best of times, but somehow she knows he would hate the inevitable pity he would choose to find in her words much worse. 

Astarion freezes, muscles tensing as if in wait for something, sending a sharp look down at the messily braided head now resting against his knee. But when nothing other than the presence of her subtle weight leaning against him ever comes, the only movement she makes the easy in and out of her breathing, he relaxes slightly.

Rin doesn’t dare to look up at him, instead returning her attention back to the lyre still in her arms. With a careful hand, her fingers come up to strum at a string, followed by another and another and another; music flowing out from the instrument in a slow, soft melody.

It’s nothing in particular that the plays; no well-known song or tune, only a series of notes and chords she pieces together with minimal thought that somehow manages to sound more lovely than anything she’s had luck playing the past week.

Eventually, she hears the soft rustle of a page being flipped once more as Astarion returns to his book, no words spoken to break the silence between them as Rin keeps her head resting just against him, playing her song just for him.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧ 

She should know better, by now, than to ever be surprised by the horrors they come across—and yet, as she had walked into the operating theatre of the so-called House of Healing, her footsteps quiet over the dark, ornate, and rotting woodwork, she still managed to be shocked by what she beheld as she had peeked over the railing.

She had noticed the man first. It was impossible to not have when his blood, a bright red incarnadine, was splattered across the walls and dripping onto the floors in sickly streams. She followed the trail of it to the source, taking in the carnage of his body; eyes no more than bloodied pits and mouth opened in silent scream as he writhes on the table, somehow still alive despite the butchering of his body. 

A moment later, her eyes drifted over to Doctor Malus Thorm in all his horror; elbow deep in his victim’s innards with hands that were no longer quite hands, digits turned instead into some sort of mechanical claws as he lectures aloud to the sightless nurses who stood uselessly around the body.

She had stepped into that theatre expecting a battle, her own blood to be added to all that had already been spilled and soaked into the grooves in the wood over the many years. 

Instead, she managed something quite different. Something possibly worse.

She hadn’t assumed that she would be able to kill him with only her words, not when the menace of him spelled violence and promised pain, a Shar devotee to the bitter end. 

And yet, it was with words that she had convinced him to sacrifice himself to his nurses, a dark turn of events that somehow seemed to fit the narrative of this terrible place all too well. 

She blames the power she feels when his body finally gives its last, miserable breath on the shadow curse, on the innate darkness of this place, on the tadpole. 

Any excuse works, so long as it covers up the fact that she had liked it.

It was the very same power she had felt when the other two Thorms fell; silvered words falling off her tongue to bend them to her will and end them both without her having to lift a single, gloved finger.

It had only been a small inconvenience to finish off the remaining Sisters of Mercy after they had done Rin’s dirty work for her, their trepans and bonesaws no match for her rapier, Karlach’s axe, Shadowheart’s spells, and Astarion’s blood thirst.

Her heart still beats too quick, the sound of it loud in her ears as she stands stock still on a bated breath—in fear, in anxiety, in a strange and twisted excitement.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. 

Rin wants nothing to do with it.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Shadowheart remarks quietly with a laugh from beside her, breaking the silence of the aftermath. There’s a new awe present in the cleric’s voice that Rin hates the sound of.

Rin looks at her friend with a small smile. “So long as you don’t get in the way of me and a good time, we’ll be dandy.”

“I wouldn’t dare after that performance.” Shadowheart laughs, a twinkling little sound, and it breaks up a bit of the nerves that had settled in her chest.

“Well. That was positively sickening. Who knew there would be so much fun to be found here?” Astarion sheathes his dagger with a twist of his wrist, the added flourish elegant as blood flicks off the blade and splatters onto the ground. “Though I do wish for a more satisfying kill. I’m in desperate need of a snack.”

Karlach claps a hand on Astarion’s shoulder with enough force that he only just manages to keep his footing. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find something else alive for you to sink your fangs into.”

“Does all that blood not quite do it for you, Astarion?” Shadowheart gestures with a raised brow to the drops of blood still dripping off of the surgical table, a nauseating mixture of both the man's and Thorm’s blending together.

“Hardly.” Astarion crinkles his nose at the thick, dark ichor. “I’ve had worse, but it smells terrible and I can’t imagine it tastes much better.”

Rin glances up at Astarion beside her, taking in his somehow paler than normal complexion and a thought hits her, her brow furrowing in consideration.

When was the last time he had fed? 

And what on? 

He had been subsisting on a diet of—well, mostly her, honestly; along with the occasional forest creature.

Astarion certainly hadn’t tasted her since their last night on the Mountain Pass, longer than he’s ever gone without her blood since his first feed from her all those moons ago.

Rin had become so used to his little visits, popping into her tent during the evening to have his fill of her—blood and more. The absence of them since has felt surprisingly stark, a loss she didn’t realize she would mourn in the wake of the palpable tension that had settled between them no matter how hard they each attempted to ignore it.

For just as surely as he hadn’t drank from her neck, he had not come to taste the rest of her either; their nights spent instead trading remarks back and forth by the fire.

Not that she was complaining. 

Quite the contrary. 

She had found herself growing quite fond of this new aspect of their relationship that they had eased into; trading stories and anecdotes with each other over a bottle of wine or a game of cards, he reading his books while she plays her music, Astarion working on his stitching as she looks on and inevitably bothers him with her presence. 

It was…nice. Normal, almost. 

Or whatever their version of nice and normal was.

Rin snaps herself out of her thoughts with a blink and turns to her companions with a nod, hoping the daze she was in doesn’t show on her face. “Right then. Let’s loot, shall we?”

They meander their way about the rest of the room, navigating their way around the bodies and books scattered about the floor, some of the thin pages now soaked with the blood of the fallen. They don’t find terribly much, some gold here or an interesting text there. 

But mostly, it’s all useless.

Rin thinks that at one time, the quatrefoil tiles lining the floors of this place must have been beautiful—crisp, clean white contrasting against vibrant blue. 

Now, though, they are covered in long streaks of dark, sticky blood, the ichor long staining tile and grout alike; the corners of them chipping as they step over them on their way out of the long hallway at the entry of the building. 

Rin falls back beside Astarion as they make their way onto the uneven cobblestones of Reithwin, gnarled roots threatening to trip her as they grow up in between the grooves. With a small smile and nod, she gestures for Shadowheart to take the lead, the cleric walking ahead as her long braid bounces behind her.

She falls into step with him easily, matching his pace as she keeps her eyes ahead, always on the lookout for what the next danger to jump out at them will be.

“Have you been hunting recently?” It’s a casual question, no accusation in her tone as she stretches her arms behind her back.   

Astarion casts a surreptitious glance her way, eyes wandering across her profile as she stays looking ahead. “There’s precious little living here, my dear.”

“Then why haven’t you come to me? You’ve never cared about bothering me before when you would pop into my tent unannounced.” 

“I-” Astarion looks away from her for a moment before returning his gaze to her. “I assumed you needed a break to…replenish your sources."

His non-answer has one of Rin’s brows drawing up in skepticism, which he readily ignores. However, the thought of him perhaps not coming to her for her own health is almost sweet, if believable.

If. 

She’s not so sure that it’s the truth, but she will take it at face value, for now.

“Astarion,” she leans towards him to give him a slight nudge with her elbow, the touch light. “I think my ‘sources’ have been thoroughly replenished. You can feed on me tonight, if you’d like.” 

It would be careless of her, as a leader, to let him continue to starve himself. She’s only doing the most responsible thing by offering herself up to him again. It’s for the better of their entire party and Faerûn at large, wasn’t it? The Absolute wasn’t going to just disappear into thin air, after all. 

And if it happened to mean she got to spend a little extra time with him—well, that would be nothing more than luck on her part. 

“Well, if you’re offering, sweet thing,” His lips curl up in a smirk, eyes alight with a predator’s gleam at the promise of her blood. “Come find me in my tent tonight, darling, and we shall feast.”

“Feast? Shall there be something there for me then, as well?” Rin releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and glances up at him with a small, secret smile that has a corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

“Only the best for my favorite little treat.”

“Careful, you’ll spoil me.” If only, she thinks, and the thought is terribly traitorous as she bites down on a corner of her lip in hopes of stopping the pink that threatens to rise to her cheeks. 

But from the answering smirk on Astarion’s face as they venture further into the into the crushing darkness of Reithwin’s destroyed streets she thinks he must able to glean the thought on his own. 

“We can’t have that, now can we?”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Rin steels herself outside the flap of Astarion’s tent, readying herself for whatever waits for her inside. She isn’t sure why she’s so nervous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fed from her before.

Or slept with her, for that matter.

There’s no flickering flame to be seen from the outside of his tent, nothing to give her any sort of hint of what possibly awaits her inside aside from him, his silhouette undecipherable in the darkness.

With a deep breath, she pulls the flap to the side and steps forward, a familiar scent—rich brandy curling together with earthy rosemary and fresh bergamot—swirling in the air as her eyes land on the vampire in question.

“Well,” Astarion lounges casually against his bedroll as his eyes find her own, leaning back on his elbows with enviable ease as a silver goblet rests beside him. “Hello there, darling.”

Her eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of his chest, the sight of him waiting for her shirtless so reminiscent to that first night together that she pulls up short.

It felt like eons ago, now; her traipsing through the forest outside of the Emerald Grove to find him waiting in a picturesque clearing for her and her alone. While there was no soft grass with charming little flowers to decorate the ground and no glittering moonlight to beam down upon them and highlight their skin as they moved together—she feels just as out of her depth now as she did then, when she had discovered him with his shirt already off and honeyed words just waiting to fall from his lips.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long again.” Rin snatches her eyes up from his chest to meet his own, a smirk already decorating his lips at her momentary distraction.

“Oh, I’ll always wait for you, beautiful.” Her eyes roll despite herself as she lets out a huff at such trite words.

“Did you need a nibble or should I see myself out?” She points behind herself to the exit of his tent for emphasis, brow arched.

“Let’s not be hasty, shall we?” Astarion answers a touch too quickly as he sits up a little higher, body tensing as if ready to jump up in the event she were to actually leave. “I would so hate to see you go.”

He must be hungry, then, if he’s so desperate for her presence.

Rin smiles at him as she looks around the tent expectantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she spies not a single treat aside from an empty goblet she presumes to be for her. “You know, I recall you promising me a feast.”

Astarion has the audacity to not look even the tiniest bit sheepish as her eyes narrow and her bottom lip juts out into a pout, a noise of frustration escaping from her lips. She should have known better than to trust a vampire when it came to procuring treats.

“I’m short on baked goods, pet, but I can promise you something else delicious instead.” His intent is obvious as he sends her a decidedly suggestive look. “Won’t you give me a show first, though?”

“I didn’t realize you were in need of entertainment, Astarion. I could always bring Volo in to recite some poetry while you dine, if you’d like.” 

“A charming idea, to be sure.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “But I was thinking of something a little more…intimate.”

Astarion eyes her form tip to toe as she stands in front of him, but it lacks the casual closeness she’s come to expect from him, something in the forced insincerity of the gesture grating.

“Make yourself comfortable. Stay awhile,” He gestures passively with a wave of his hand through the air towards where she stands as he continues. “Get yourself out of those wretched clothes, for example. You look much prettier without them on, anyways.”

Irritation sparks along the line of her mouth, emerald eyes sharpening as she stares at him. Weeks ago, the words would have had her blushing and the beginnings of desire kindling in her belly; but now they fall lifeless upon her ears, none of the ease and familiarity she has come to enjoy during their little interludes present in them. 

The words are merely mechanic—as calculated and practiced as they were on that very first night.

Worse, it doesn’t even seem like he enjoys saying the words, the sound of them hollow as they leave his mouth and the smirk pasted on his lips halfhearted.

It feels utterly obvious once she realizes what he’s trying to do and she can see through his ill-prepared idea with ease, this little power play of his nothing more than a paltry attempt to control their situation, some sort of damage control after the other night. 

They’ve both given too much of themselves now to return to the shallow, impersonal relationship they once had whether he likes it or not, and Rin will be damned if she lets him call the shots and force them back to the beginning.

But, if Astarion wants to play a game—well, she’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to win.

Rin looks down at her clothes with a pointed look and while they were perhaps nothing fancy—the oversized linen and worn leather may be simple but they were far from wretched. 

“Well. I’d hate to offend your delicate sensibilities.” Her smile is an inch too wide to be believable, betraying her irritation. “Shall I do a twirl for you as well? Or perhaps you would like a little trick?”

Rin holds up her hand, ready to ignis the damned tent if necessary to illustrate her point. Nothing that a few gold and a trip to dear Withers couldn’t fix if she accidentally managed to char him in the process.

“You spoil me darling, really. But I am simple man—” Rin stops him off with a look of admonishment, cutting off his sentence to start her own.

“A simple show for a simple man, then.” She hopes her emphasis on the words will speak loudly enough for him to understand the meaning of them as she mockingly bows towards him. 

“I take offense to that assessment, you know.” Astarion huffs with a frown, casting his head aside to instead take a sip of his errant goblet of wine, already forgotten beside him. 

His eyes are drawn quickly back to the center of his tent when he hears the soft rustle of fabric, returning to Rin just in time to catch a glimpse of her hands running down the front of her blouse. “It’s a perfectly reasonable one, if you ask me.”

Astarion frowns, opening his mouth to protest before quickly shutting it as her hands reach the waistband of her pants, fingers dipping just beneath the worn leather. Rin raises her brow, a teasing smile forming on her lips now that she has his attention.

Any irritation she feels is tempered by the thrill of Astarion’s gaze so set on her, his complete focus hers and hers alone as honest interest finally sparks to life in those red eyes of his.

With little flourish she begins to pull her leggings down her legs, peeling the pants away from her skin with less grace than she would prefer, but it would have to do. She kicks them to the side once she frees herself from them, uncaring where they land as she adjusts to the cool air of the night against newly bared skin that Astarion’s eyes rove.

“Do you think I should take this off next?” She thumbs at the hem of her shirt, examining the fraying stitching at the hem in desperate need of a mend. She’d have to ask Astarion to do it for her, damn it. “Since you find it so offensive and all that.”

“Be my guest, darling.” He gestures with a hand towards the garment, a corner of his mouth lifting. “I’ll even do you a favor and burn it for you for later.”

“How kind of you to go through all the trouble.” 

Rin’s smile is wry as she grabs the hem of her plain tunic and deftly lifts it over her head before dropping it. 

It drifts to the ground, fluttering down softly to fall in a graceless heap beside her bare legs, Astarion’s eyes darkening ever so slightly at the sight of her in nothing more than an unadorned corset and plain underwear, upping her confidence tenfold as she lets a corner of her mouth lift. 

“I suppose you’ll want to burn this too?” She runs her fingers teasingly across the top edge of the corset, her touch light as she brushes against the cotton and the plush of her breasts where they spill out above the garment.  

She hadn’t worn it with the intent of being admired, but when Astarion’s eyes follow every brush of her fingers against her breasts she’s suddenly quite grateful that she had chosen to wear it tonight instead of opting to go without as she normally would have, if only for it to act as a different kind of armor—one last layer to bolster her defenses in a battle she will surely lose. 

Astarion swallows, legs shifting slightly as his eyes caress over her curves. “We can negotiate the corset.”

“Your kindness truly knows no bounds.” Her fingers hover over the looped bow that sits at her breasts, tied in a hurry earlier after she had changed out of her armor.

The corset itself was nothing more than a plain ivory cotton—no expensive satin or fine boning—but when she pulls at the laces keeping the pretty little bow tied at the center of her cleavage, the tiniest bit of her full breasts exposed with the motion, the look in Astarion’s eyes could fool her into thinking it was the finest thing he had ever seen. 

Little by little, she pulls every cross of the laces, freeing more and more of herself with every delicate yank of her fingers as Astarion’s eyes obediently follow every inch of skin exposed until she reaches the last one, tugging it gently to loosen the final cross. 

It hangs loose around her form, the curve of her breasts just visible with the line of skin exposed down her chest. Rin wills her hands to steady under Astarion’s study as she brings them up to the straps on her shoulders, pushing each one off so she can shrug out of the garment. 

With one last push, the corset falls to the ground at her feet and she steps out of the circle of it before sending it aside with a soft kick.

Rin’s breasts pebble in the cool air, heat beginning to curl deep in her stomach under Astarion’s watchful gaze. She keeps her limbs loose, relaxed; her face at ease as she meets his eyes.

“You aren’t quite finished yet, my sweet.” Astarion’s voice is tight as he gestures with a brief nod towards her nearly naked form, gaze moving from her bare breasts and down lower to linger on her still-clothed center.

“You know, I think I’ve grown tired of being your entertainment,” She cocks her head to the side, unbound waves of darkened wheat—the color barely discernible in the darkness of his tent—cascading with the movement. “If you want them off so badly, do it yourself.” 

He raises a brow in question but obliges her nonetheless, moving from where he had been so indolently reclined against his bedroll as he watches her with keen eyes. 

With slow, careful steps Astarion makes his way towards where she stands before him and she is helpless but to admire the way his muscles shift on his lithe form, the grace with which he moves as he stalks closer to her that of a predator on the hunt for his prey.

And what was she, she supposes, if not his prey? It was why she had come here tonight, after all—to let him drink his fill of her blood with his lips at her neck, sucking down her life’s essence to his heart’s content.

She certainly feels like his prey, at least. How could she feel anything but when he moves around her in a slow circle, eyes brushing over her bared skin like a lover’s caress, knowing and intimate.

Astarion moves around her in another perfect circle before he finishes his perusal, stopping to stand behind her close enough to touch, his bare chest almost brushing against her spine. Familiar hands come to her waist as his head lowers to rest upon her shoulder, thumbs rubbing light circles into the skin. 

His lips press a featherlight kiss to her jaw that has her catching a breath. “Who said you were in charge here, my dear?”

His touch is electric against her skin, and Rin resists the urge to lean back into him, to press against the coolness of his chest and relish the feeling of his skin on hers. His mouth is terribly distracting where he adorns her with little kisses across the curve of her jaw and down the line of her neck, and she briefly wonders if he means to bite her just like this, held tight in the circle of his arms.

“Whoever said that you were?” Rin counters back with a glance out of the corner of her eye to where his cheek rests against her shoulder, ignoring the wetness that has begun to pool between her thighs. 

She has no intention of giving into his every want and demand, or at least not yet.

The hands bracketing her waist begin to move despite his protests, sliding down over her hips with frustrating slowness until he reaches the hem of her embarrassingly simple underwear. 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Astarion sighs dramatically against the column of her throat. “Must you be so difficult?"

There’s an unexpected fondness in his voice, an affection that she can’t remember if she’s ever heard so openly from him before that has the air around them changing; shifting from something practiced and performative to familiar and lovely and absolutely perfect.

The sound of it has a shred of something warm blossoming in Rin’s chest—unknown but not entirely unwelcome, she decides. 

He plays at the edge of her panties, fingers toying with the thin cotton where it rests against her skin on either hip, his touch sending another wave of heat straight to her core as she bites back a sigh at the sensation. 

“You should be aware by now that listening has never been one of my strong suits.”

“Yes, well,” Astarion’s fingers hook into both sides of her underwear before beginning to pull, the garment sliding down over her hips and bottom as Astarion sinks down with it. “You seem to remember how to follow my instructions when it counts, dearest.”

He drops silently to his knees behind Rin, dragging her underwear down her legs as he goes, each slide of the fabric against her skin only serving to heighten the heat kindling inside her. She gingerly steps out of each leg, desperately wishing she could see what he must look like lowered behind her in such a manner—the sight of him on his knees surely one that she has seen in her dreams of him. 

But before she can make up her mind to steal a glance or even just turn, Astarion is gliding back up her body, hands glancing against her skin as he goes, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

“You know, I thought I came here for you to feed on.” It’s an effort to keep her voice steady as his arms wrap back around her waist, touch cool against her skin.

His head lowers back to her ear, lips brushing against the shell as a shiver of anticipation runs down her spine. “Oh, you did. But I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun as well. It’s been awhile, darling, and I’ve missed you.” 

A hand traces down her stomach in a teasing touch; long, sweeping lines of his fingertips back and forth across her skin brushing down until he reaches the apex of her thighs. 

Astarion moves at a glacial pace as his fingers dip lower and lower until they find their way to her center, swiping through her folds to spread her essence on the tips of them as Rin’s head falls back onto his shoulder, a sigh escaping her lips as he explores. 

“Miss my blood or miss me?” Rin’s lashes flutter shut as he runs his fingers up and down her, careful to avoid the two places she wants him to touch most as she flushes at the evidence of her arousal he finds.

“Can’t it be both?” His fingers finally find her entrance, tracing around the edge in slow circles as she sharply inhales. 

She’s not ready to admit how much she wants to believe him that he had missed her, had missed this—the easy intimacy they had been building together bit by bit. It’s a dizzying thought, one that has her heart skipping a beat that he surely can hear this close. 

“With you? Unlikely.”

“Why, you think so little of me, darling.” Astarion punctuates his words with the press of a finger slowly in; and were it any other time, the mock outrage coloring his voice would draw a laugh from her. 

This time, however, he draws a moan from her instead as he pushes deeper, seating his finger inside her before slowly withdrawing.

“Give me more to think about, then.” Rin sighs, lips opened as she tries to still her hips.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He smiles into her skin, lips brushing against the column of her throat as he pushes back in, sliding home to the knuckle.

Her mind ceases to a halt on whatever clever words she had been preparing when a hand draws up to her breast and cups it, Astarion’s touch a balm against her over-warm skin as he runs his thumb over the hardened peak.

Astarion’s finger moves only barely inside her, but it’s enough for Rin to feel it, friction building in her core with the simple motion. She should be embarrassed by how quickly he has worked her up, her ire so easily forgotten when wrapped in his arms and at the mercy of his skilled hands.

He’s lucky that she likes him, for she would never allow anyone else such lenience. Though, she would never allow anyone else the opportunity to get quite so close to her, either—a thought that borders on terrifying if she thinks too long about it.

A second finger joins the first, and she welcomes the slight stretch as he finally begins to pump them while he mouths at her neck, moving in a steady rhythm that has a fire burning deep in her core as she moans in relief.

Astarion’s pace is easy and unconcerned as he thrusts in and out lazily, slowly building her up higher and higher with every press forward. Her curls pillow against his pale skin as she sighs at the pleasure coursing through her, that welcome heat billowing deep inside her. His thumb finds her clit and rolls against it in soft circles as her lips open in a low moan, limbs tightening at the added touch. 

The hand cupping her breast runs back down to her waist to wrap around the circle of it, fingertips stroking her skin as he secures her closer to him and the outline of his cock presses hard against her ass.

Rin can feel the grin he hides in her neck as he breathes in the scent of her and his fingers curl, searching for the place to make her fall apart under his hands. He moves them just right, finding that one spot, and she cries out as her hips buck into his palm. 

“Ah, Astarion!” 

“Yes, darling?” He curls his fingers again and she practically melts in his hold, the arm he has wrapped around her waist squeezing tighter to keep her upright. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

He could finish her off so easily, the bastard; only a few more presses of his fingers and she would be done for, but Rin doubts that Astarion has plans to let her off so easily. 

Astarion has never outright denied her the release she craves, but he certainly likes to make her work for it.

“Only that I don’t want you to stop.” The words come out sounding more wanting than she would prefer, but she’s beyond the point of summoning up a care.

Astarion tsks, and as if on cue his fingers slow to a stop before pulling them from her body. Rin whines in protest as she lifts her head to glare at him, narrowed eyes meeting amused ones as he simply smirks back at her.

“Sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that.”

Astarion spins her around in his hold, her breasts pressing against his own bare chest as his hands run up and down her waist. A quick glance down and she can see the evidence of his own arousal, his cock pushing urgently against her stomach, still hidden by pants that she needs to rid him of preferably sooner rather than later.

“Liar. You heard me just fine.” Rin’s arms wrap around his shoulders as she leans in closer to him.

“It’s neither here nor there.” Astarion begins to walk her back, the two of them stepping together as he leads her towards his bedroll. “There’s no need to rush. Now, lay down.”

Rin arches her brow at his bossiness, but doesn’t argue as she lowers herself to the ground and spreads herself out on his bedroll. She frowns when she sits, the surface not nearly as soft as it should be, an unfamiliar hardness beneath her.

“Astarion, what in the hells is it that I am sitting on?” She shifts to peek underneath the blankets, spying some sort of wooden thing underneath her.

“Are you really going to ruin the mood to ask me about something so stupid? You are truly impossible.” Astarion looks down on her with a pointed scowl as he moves to kneel down before her, his lithe muscles shifting as he crawls over to her in smooth movements. 

“I’m not the one sleeping on a plank of wood every night. Have you no standards for good night’s trance? No wonder you’re so touchy all the time.”

He’s upon her in mere moments, an elegant hand finding the space just below her collar bone as he only answers her with a stern look. This thumb runs along the line of it, brushing against the skin as his eyes follow the motion. 

Rin looks down at the hand poised on her chest, so pale against the sun-warmed gold of her own, and brings her own up to run fingertips down the back of his. She swears she can see him shiver at the touch, a barely noticeable intake of his breath as her hand rests on top of his.

Astarion’s eyes cut up to hers, and with a raise of his brow, he pushes her backwards.

Rin lets him do it, lowering herself back with the help of his little push until her head hits his pillow, a rush of his scent surrounding her as she lays. His hand still rests on the skin of her chest, the weight of it like a scorching brand as she stares up at Astarion as he cages himself above her.

She doesn’t know what he sees when he looks down upon her, hair most likely curling in an unruly halo around her head and cheeks undoubtedly colored an unbecoming shade of pink, but his eyes run over what feels like every inch of her face before his hand begins to move, tracing a featherlight line down her skin. 

Her stomach jumps underneath the drag of his fingertips as his touch stops low, their eyes meeting together in a heated glance as Rin waits with bated breath.

Astarion’s head lowers towards her, and her heart beats a little faster at the thought of his lips meeting hers, the want she has been blatantly ignoring the past week begging to break free from its confines safe in the corner of her mind.

But instead, Astarion’s lips find her neck, placing a kiss on the two pinprick scars that decorate the column of it before running them across her skin—kissing over her collar, upon the peak of her breast, down her ribs one by one.

She gasps at the feeling as he drags his lips down her body, her skin flushed with desire.

He’s kissing the sensitive skin just below her stomach with teasing presses of his lips when she speaks, breathless and wanting. “Astarion, don’t you want to feed?”

Cool hands travel down the curve of her waist and over her hips before reaching her soft skin of her thighs, palms running over the tops of them as he settles himself in between her legs.

“Oh, I do.” Astarion makes to spread her thighs further, pushing them wide. “Don’t you worry, my dear, I’ll get my fill.”

Rin’s cheeks fill with heat as he moves his gaze to her bare center, running claret eyes over her as she sucks in a breath. With little ceremony, his head moves forward and his tongue glides along her center, lapping at her wetness. 

Her hips buck up into Astarion’s face as she reaches down to grab at his soft, downy curls as he circles the pearl at the top of her sex, the tip of his tongue light as he traces shapes along it.

He laps at her clit as she tries to quiet her mouth, holding back her moans and cries as best she can as he works her up ever higher. With a last circle, Astarion’s tongue ventures further down, abandoning her clit to instead run through her folds, groaning at the taste of her before exploring the wetness that has collected at her entrance. 

“Asta—” Rin gasps sharply as his tongue traces around the edge of her, so like he had with his finger earlier—ever teasing. He dips in her entrance, the tip of it whorling against her before pushing deeper. 

Her hands scrabble for purchase in his hair as he licks inside her, eating her out in earnest as her thighs tremble around his head. She swears that she can feel him chuckle against her as he tastes, tongue curling inside her as she grasps his soft curls harder between her fingers.

He thrusts his tongue deep and she keens, back arching off the bedroll as her hips roll against his mouth, chasing the heat coiling deep inside her with every press of his tongue. It’s a different sensation than that of his fingers, but no less welcome or wonderful as the feeling in her belly tightens more and more. 

She’s terribly close when his mouth leaves her, and she mourns the loss of his tongue for mere seconds before he fills her with fingers that press urgently, curling just right as his lips kiss their way to her thigh.

“Do it.” She spreads wider for him, and she can hear his satisfied hum against her skin before he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth in the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

The familiar ice of his bite hurts far too good, the frosty pain warring against the heat surging through her limbs as he drinks from her, blood running in scarlet rivulets down her thigh to stain the worn blanket beneath her.

Astarion’s messy as he drinks, her hips writhing in time with the fingers still artfully working inside her. Her back arches as she tries to quiet her cry, a fist curling into the threadbare blanket below her.

The metallic scent of iron tinges the air of the tent as he drinks and Rin can’t help the moan that falls from her open mouth at the feeling of his lips on her skin, sucking and licking and—gods, kissing. 

“There, please.” His fingers hit perfectly, over and over again, and her thighs tremble. “Please don’t stop.”

Astarion sucks hard at the bite as she begs, fingers keeping pace with the movement of her hips as he drinks down another surge of her blood. With only a few more presses of his fingers, curving just right to hit exactly where she needs him, Rin comes.

A hand unclenches from the blanket to cover her mouth as she muffles her moan into her palm, back arching as precious heat courses through her limbs and her hips writhe. 

Pleasure whites out her thoughts as Astarion fucks her through her orgasm with his fingers; lips and mouth still pullings sips of her blood from her thigh all the while.

She comes back to herself as his fingers slow and he peppers kisses to her leg, lapping up any stray drops as they fall from the wound. Astarion pulls his fingers from her gently, another hum of satisfaction breaking free as he brings them to his mouth and sucks, tongue licking her come clean from the digits.  

She’s still floating in a euphoric haze when Astarion finally rises from between her thighs, appetite sated and pale skin flushed with the slightest hint of pink from the blood that once belonged to her now flowing through his veins.

His mouth is glistening with her—her blood, her arousal, her scent. She’s entranced by the sight of it as Astarion licks his rouged lips, tongue swiping at a small drop of blood at the corner of his mouth that threatens to roll down his chin.

“Did I taste as good as you had hoped?” Rin’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath in the aftermath, the words no more than a whisper.

A corner of Astarion’s mouth lifts upward as he runs his eyes over her; from his mark on her thigh, over her sex, and up her flushed form beneath him until he meets her eyes. “Better.”

Rin’s breath hitches as he kisses his way back up her body with warmed lips, leaving a trail of red upon her skin with every touch of his lips, small blooms of her crimson blood like stains of watercolor.

He kisses up the valley between her breasts before turning his head, lips running over the plump curve of one before capturing her nipple, sucking at it before flicking his tongue against the bud. Rin’s back arches at the unexpected touch, more heat already kindling as he gives it a hard suck.

Astarion pops off her breast to kiss towards its twin, her hands burying back in his hair as he sucks at her other nipple, laving it with his tongue as a whine breaks free from her lips before she urges him higher, fingertips running through his curls. 

He obliges, placing one last kiss upon the tip of her breast before moving to bury his head in her neck, licking a line up the column of her throat, the very tip of his tongue tracing a thrumming vein.

Rin wraps her arms around his shoulders, hands running over the corded muscle as he slots himself between her legs, his still-clothed erection brushing against the too-sensitive skin of her thighs.

It simply wouldn’t do, she decides. 

“Let me touch you. Please,” she runs her hands down his chest to dance over his skin until she reaches the waistband of his pants, his cock painfully hard as it strains against the fabric. “I want to touch you, Astarion.”

She’s taking a chance by asking, but it’s one she’s willing to try her luck for.

Despite how many times she’s enjoyed the feeling of him inside her or how well he’s come to learn her body, he’s never quite allowed her the same opportunity to touch or taste him.

She knows enough of his past—he’s told her plenty of the many different people he had taken for Cazador against his will and under duress, his body used without the ability and choice to say no.  

“I want to make you feel good too, Astarion.” Rin peers up into his eyes, fingers no longer trailing along him as she pauses, waiting patiently for a real answer. “Do you trust me?”

His gaze is intense as it meets her own, the heated desire in his eyes tempering for a moment to give way to a tentative vulnerability that crosses over them as he considers her words. 

“I-” Astarion speaks softer than she had expected as he breaks off, gaze intent on hers as the weight of the implication that he has a choice—one that is his and his only to make—bears down on him. “—I do.”

“Only if you want me to. You have to promise me that you want it.” She urges, hands flattening on his abdomen as excitement stirs in her chest.

“Fine. I promise that I want it.” Astarion snaps, but his words lack any real bite as a corner of his lips quirk up into a crooked smile. “Show me what you’ve got, then, if you’re so eager.”

Rin moves slow as her hand slides back down his pants and over the curve of his hardened length, caressing him over the fabric as she feels him, cupping his length softly before flitting back up to join the other still at the waist of his pants.

Astarion’s breath catches at her touch before on his own hands comes down to help as she pushes the barrier down, freeing his length from the confines of his clothes. In a smooth motion, his pants and underwear are down his legs and off, baring his erection.

Precome shines at the tip of his cock as she runs her fingers down him in a barely there caress from top to bottom, his length twitching with the motion as Astarion draws in a harsh breath.

Her eyes stay on his as she grazes the soft skin again, watching for any sign she should stop as she runs her fingers along a prominent vein that runs along the side of him. 

He’s velvet soft under her palm as she wraps her fingers around his shaft, giving him an experimental pump of her hand, touch gentle as she revels in the feel of him.

“Is this alright?” Rin looks up at him from under lowered lashes.

Her hand glides up, brushing over the head of him as she collects the precome leaking from his slit, running her fingers over it before caressing down to the base once more. 

“By all means, please continue.” Rin knows he means for the words to be casual and unaffected, but there’s already a telling breathiness to Astarion’s words that has her smirking.

The weight of him in her hand is nothing short of perfect as she gently wraps her fist around him, stroking him. Astarion moans and it’s the easily one of the most beautiful things Rin’s ever heard, the sound of it sending a spike of heat to her core.

She brings her other hand to her mouth, running her tongue over her palm before it joins the other around his cock and the added bit of glide has Astarion gasping as his hips jump. 

His head falls heavy onto her shoulder as she works him, careful pumps of his length bringing him closer to the edge far faster than she ever thought possible with only her touch. 

His cock weeps as Rin glides her fingers over the crown of him again, collecting more of the precome that glistens at the tip. Her hands move together, one carefully massaging the head of his cock while the other strokes at the base, the breathy moans leaving Astarion’s lips only serving to spur her on further as she works him closer to the edge. 

“Does this feel good, Astarion?”

“Gods, yes.” He shudders in response, lips open against her skin as he presses a messy kiss into her shoulder.

Her palms move faster, intent on his undoing, his pleasure at her hands nothing short of exhilarating. 

Gods, she would let him come wherever he wanted. Onto her stomach, across her breasts, down her throat—the thought is enough to send another spark of electricity to her empty core.

“Ah, darling,” Astarion’s voice is tight as he buries his face deeper into her neck, hips bucking into her hand as she works him from the crown of his cock to the base, his breathing getting harder with every stroke. “Much more and you’ll spoil the main event.”

“I’ll stop, if that’s what you want.” Rin slows her motions as he catches his breath against the column of her throat, so close to his own completion she can practically feel it in the way his body shakes above her own, muscles quivering with the want of release. “But would it be so awful if you were to come like this? On my hands, all over my skin?”

Astarion raises his head from her neck, pupils blown wide and hair thoroughly disheveled as he pants. “Decidedly not, but I think I want to fill that sweet cunt of yours tonight instead.”

“If you say so.” She brings one of the hands that had been stroking him to her mouth, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips to lap at a shining string of precome still sticking to her skin, savoring the flavor of him for the very first time.

Astarion swallows hard, eyes fixated on the pink of her tongue as she wraps her mouth around the tip, sucking lightly. She smiles sweetly around it, lips pink and plush, as she sends him a wink.

With a soft pop, she pulls her finger out of her mouth before moving to twine her arms around his neck, running through the soft curls at his nape. “I wouldn’t mind getting to taste more of you, either, if you’d let me.”

“Salacious girl. Whatever am I supposed to do with you?” That same fondness from earlier sneaks back into his words as she gazes up at him with as much innocence as she can muster.

“Hmm,” Rin muses, pretending to think through her answer as her fingers toy with his hair. “Whatever you want, I suppose.” 

“Whatever I want?” Astarion’s brows raise in mock surprise. “You might come to regret those words, darling.”

“I find that sometimes I don’t mind being at your mercy.”

“Your self-preservation instincts need some reevaluating, my dear.”

“Is that what you think?” She laughs as her fingertips abandon his wild curls to dance absentmindedly across the lines of his shoulders.

“What I think is that these wandering hands of yours are trouble.” Astarion leans down to whisper into her ear, a smirk decorating his lips as they brush against the point of them. “It’s a pity I don’t have any pretty ribbon at my disposal to tie them up with.”

Nimble fingers move to find and circle her wrists with surprising delicacy as he removes them from around his neck to instead guide her arms up to rest around her head. 

Desire pools deep in her belly at the mere mention and she doesn’t even try to fight against Astarion’s hold, not when there’s nothing she wants more than to be at the mercy of his hands. 

“So, you’ll just have to be a good girl and keep these up here for me.” His hands encircle her wrists so very easily as he applies the slightest bit of pressure on them to illustrate his point. “Can you do that? I know you have a very hard time following directions.” 

“I’ll try my hardest, but I make no promises.”

His hands slide down from her own where he left them resting above her head as he rises back to his knees, running over her breasts to anchor at her waist before he takes in the sight of her—warm skin and eyes bright and utterly alive. 

He fits perfectly between her thighs as he moves his hips to slide his length through her folds, her slick coating him with every pass.

“No touching,” Astarion tuts. “Don’t forget.”

“Like I said, no promises. But I’ll give it a fair shot.” Rin grinds her hips against his erection, still gliding up and down her slit.

Astarion’s only response is a raise of his brow as he positions himself at her entrance, the head of his cock barely pressing against her as he smirks, moving his hips away every time she tries to move hers forward.

Teasing. Always, always teasing.

Rin rolls her hips against his own as Astarion finally pushes forward, hilting himself inside her warmth in a smooth thrust, twin moans escaping from their lips at the feeling as he fills her completely.

His hands caress down to her thighs where they open for him, thumbs running up and down soft skin marred only by the red of his own bite, the marks smeared with still drying blood.

Astarion’s hips finally move, pulling away from hers only to push forward again until he bottoms out, burying himself deep. Rin relishes the feel of him moving inside her with a soft moan as she throws her head back against his pillow, back arching as he settles his hands on her hips to pull her deeper onto his cock.

His thumbs grip into her skin as he thrusts into her, hips meeting her own with long, deep strokes that have her trying and failing to hold back the little noises of pleasure that loose from her lips.

She yearns to move her hands from where they still rest above her head—yearns to drag her fingers across his skin or wrap her arms around his neck to draw him closer to her—but she resists the temptation, settling on moving her hips instead.

Rin grinds against his cock buried deep inside her as she moves her hips to match his own, thrust for thrust, the slide of him achingly flawless as they move together.  

“Gods, you’re absolutely perfect.” The words slip out of Astarion’s lips, murmured low on a hard thrust. She tightens around him as the praise washes over her, lips opened on a barely restrained whimper as her lashes lower.

He’s more than beautiful in the darkness as he throws his head back on a moan, the drag of his cock smooth as he hits deep and she craves more—more closeness, more of his touch, more of his lips. 

“Kiss me,” she gasps and instantly regrets the words and the desperation of them as her hands still lay obediently above her head, her back arching with every thrust.

Astarion’s hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he looks down at her, fixating on the petal pink of her lips, and Rin’s heart practically stops at what she sees when he looks at her.

A hand traces its way up from her hip to grab hold of her chin, touch firm as Astarion’s eyes move away from her lips to stare into her own, searching for something in the verdant depths of them. His gaze is alight with a precious heat that threatens to burn every inch of her—the fire she’s secretly dreamed of seeing there in his eyes when he looks at her.

His lips crash into hers with no words or preamble, meeting her half way as she surges her head up and their lips press together. Her arms lift, leaving their resting place above her head to wrap around his neck as Astarion’s tongue runs against the seam of her lips in askance, her own parting eagerly for him.

She can taste the remnants of herself on his lips, both the richness of her cunt and the metallic tang of her blood; and it’s heady, it’s divine as his lips chase after her own as they kiss and kiss and kiss, his hips still joined with hers all the while.

The hand that had been poised on her chin strokes upward, running over the plane of her cheek in a barely there touch that has her heart stuttering as their lips move.

Gods, she’d been wishing for the feeling of his lips on hers, and if the only way she can get it is when he fucks her, then so be it. 

It’s not the only kind of kiss she wants from him but it’s the kiss she will take, desperate despite her every wish otherwise.

She’s gasping when Astarion finally breaks the kiss, taking in precious breaths of air as his lips lift only just away from hers. His hips slow and Rin looks questioningly up at Astarion, arms still twined tightly around his neck.

A small burst of panic bubbles up in her chest as she feels him slide out her, hips pulling away from hers to leave her empty; and worry that she had perhaps done something wrong or said something she shouldn’t have fills her mind. 

“Astarion? Is everything alright? Did I—” she cuts herself off as the hand at her cheek brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear while its twin travels up her thigh to curve around her waist, urging her body upwards with a gentle pull.

“Let’s try something a little different, hm? Now, up.”

His hold is tight—secure—as they both shift to sitting, Astarion helping her along the way until she is upright in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs as she hovers.

“Now, tell me, sweet thing. Have you ever been fucked like this before?” His eyes pierce into her own as a hand curls around the back of her head, fingers tangling in her curls.

“No.” Rin shakes her head from side to side, biting her lip as his length finds her entrance once more, pushing with the barest hint of pressure against her.

“Good.” 

With a swift thrust, Astarion sheathes himself inside of her as his lips capture hers, swallowing her answering moan as Rin arches against his chest. The hand wrapped around her waist travels down, fingertips squeezing into the flesh of her ass to help guide her hips up and down his cock.

They’re on equal footing like this, noses brushing against each other’s as their bodies work, Rin’s hips meeting Astarion’s own in a smooth cadence. The closeness—the intimacy of it—is intoxicating as their lips meet again and again, arms wrapped around each other as their fingertips dig into each other’s skin.

It’s not as fast or as hard as she’s used to, but somehow it’s better—the lack of quick thrusts is made up for instead by hard rolls of their hips, Astarion reaching the deepest part of her core as they hold each other close, not an bit of space between them.

His length brushes against what feels like every inch of her walls, sending sparks through her body as the heat coiling in her stomach rises higher with every move they make.

Rin is only mildly aware of the marks he left on her thigh breaking open once more, tiny drops of her blood leaving ruby red smears against both her and Astarion’s flesh as her hands map the planes of his face and their lips press.

Any other time, she would be blushing at the noise of their bodies moving together, the wet glide of his length driving in and out of her and the sound of skin on skin audible in the confines of Astarion’s tent; but instead she’s unabashed as she moves up and down his cock and he thrusts up to meet her, moans falling freely from both of their mouths as their kiss breaks.

She’s getting closer and she can tell he is too, the intensity of his thrusts only getting harder and deeper as every roll of his hips has his length brushing against her sweet spot as she loses her rhythm against him as her body begins to quake.

“Eyes on me.” Astarion’s forehead presses into hers as her lashes flutter, the height of her pleasure curling around her, ephemeral and just out of reach.

The heat burning inside her reaches a crescendo, his name whispered from her lips on a broken gasp as her hold on him tightens, fingertips digging into his skin.

She’s tremulous as she tightens around him and he kisses her moans from her, quieting the sound of them as her hands grasp for purchase around his shoulders and he pumps his cock, hitting the very same spot that never fails to have her falling apart in his arms. 

Rin sees stars behind her eyes as she tumbles over the edge of the crest, constricting hard on him as she comes on a near silent cry. Her hips writhe as Astarion holds her steady despite the ragged moan that falls from his lips as he watches her fall apart with half-lidded eyes.

She’s clinging to him as she rides out the rest of her orgasm on the hardened length still thrusting inside her, Astarion working her through the waves of pleasure that suffuse through her limbs.

A dreamy, hazy euphoria descends over her like a fog as she finally comes back to herself, her first thought to press another kiss to the pair of lips that still brush against hers. 

Rin takes a lungful of air on a deep breath, beginning to move her hips against his once more despite the contented exhaustion blanketing her as she speaks with a soft, teasing lilt. “I thought you were going to come in my sweet cunt, Astarion.”

“Still the plan, darling.” Astarion’s lost in his own pleasure as he speaks, eyes fixated on her own as his hips snap hard into hers.

The hand on her ass tightens, fingertips near bruising as Astarion’s thrusts begin lose their rhythm in the wake her orgasm, the feeling of her cunt spasming around his length as she had come only serving to drive him closer to his own completion.

Her fingertips run down his cheek as he looks at her, his control breaking on every push of his hips that she meets readily.

“Then do it,” She whispers. “Please come for me, Astarion.” 

Rin presses her mouth to his in a hard kiss, gasping as he changes the angle of his thrusts to hit the very end of her cunt.

At her words, Astarion follows her over the edge, moaning his ecstasy into her lips as he comes. His hips rut frantically against hers, spilling himself inside her with unrestrained thrusts. 

Rin grasps him tighter as his orgasm rushes through him, taking each and every sound that falls from him as he works through the waves of pleasure coursing through his limbs. 

Finally, Astarion’s hips slow to a halt as their chests heave, still locked in their embrace, the haze of the aftermath floating around them. His lips press against hers one last time before he ducks his head to fit against her neck, breathing in the scent of her.  

Rin’s not sure how long they stay like that, both catching their breath as her arms hang loose around him, Astarion’s face still buried in her neck as his fingers grip around waist. 

Eventually, it’s Astarion who moves first, gently pulling his softened cock from her as he lifts his head and leans back towards his bedroll, taking her down with him. 

They lay next to each other on the ruined blanket, a light sheen of sweat sticking to their skin.

“That was—” Astarion starts, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to push it out of his face.

Rin finishes the sentence for him, her heart still beating in a staccato rhythm. “Amazing? Fantastic? The best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Well, you think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?” Astarion turns his head to face her, brow raised.

Rin leans in, bumping their foreheads together in a light touch before whispering her reply on a smile. “That wasn’t a no.”

Astarion rolls her eyes and she laughs, and she swears she can see the slightest hint of pink coloring his cheeks, no doubt from the help of her blood still running through him.

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head, the muscles in his back shifting and Rin lets out an appreciative hum at the sight. 

“Oh, and Astarion.” Rin smiles as she rolls her shoulders, settling further into the blanket. “If you burn my shirt, I will be forced to take action. Possibly with a knife. Just so we’re clear.”

His head whips back to glance at her, a wicked look in his eye. “Flirting again already? Give me a moment to recover, dearest.” 

Astarion’s eyes skate down her naked form, still lying in a boneless heap upon his bedroll. 

“Gods, look at you. You’re an absolute mess.” She can feel the blood drying on her thighs and on the spots where he had left bloodied kisses up her body, his come threatening to spill out of her with even the slightest movement. “Get ahold of yourself, darling.”

“An absolute mess that you made.” Rin peeks down to look at herself, skin still flushed and dotted with red marks in the vague shape of his lips.

“I’d gladly make it again, too.” Astarion turns back to the side, reaching for a spare decanter of presumably water and grabbing a piece of soft cloth.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.” 

She takes in the bloodied blanket beneath her as she hazards a stretch, reaching her arms above her head as her feet point, back arching as she comes up to her elbows. 

“Has anyone ever told you that your bedroll is absolutely awful? How you manage to sleep on something so hard is beyond my ability to imagine. We should steal you a new one.”

Even with the awful plank beneath her, it would be so easy to stay on a night like tonight. Too easy to imagine settling into his side, the now familiar contours of his body beside her own as they rested together, limbs tangling. She’s never slept in anyone’s arms before that she can remember, and she wonders how it must feel to spend hours simply wrapped in Astarion’s embrace and then to wake up next to him at first light.

Please ask me to stay. 

The words come from a deep, dark part of her mind unbidden; but the wanting they bring with them threatens to ruin her as her heart beats harder.

“Or you could always come share mine, I guess. I promise I’ll keep you nice and warm.” It’s a risk speaking those kind of words, Rin crossing a line they’ve never dared to before.

Astarion’s body tenses slightly, the line of his shoulders stiffening.

He dips the mouth of the decanter over onto a spare cloth to wet it before turning back to her, expression strangely blank. The sight of it puts her ill at ease, as if the warm intimacy they had shared had been snuffed out like a candle’s flame. 

Astarion runs the cloth over her form, erasing any evidence of him from her skin. His spend, the blood on her thighs, the messy kisses up her chest—all of it gone with a simple brush of water on cloth.

She nods her thanks, her heart sinking as regret burns in her throat. 

“Well, it’s been lovely. You’re always such a treat.” Astarion summons a veil across his eyes, an empty smirk on his lips as he sets the cloth to the side. “You should go get some sleep, darling. Who knows who else you’ll need to convince to kill themselves tomorrow.”

It’s like a slap to the cheek—cold water to wake her from the warm embrace of a dream. It wasn’t the first time he had said such words to her, but this is the first time she realizes that she hates them with every fibre of her being.

“Oh.” She bites her lip, hoping she hides her disappointment well enough; but from the way Astarion averts his gaze to focus on an invisible point on other side of the tent, she doesn’t need to worry much. “I suppose you do need your beauty sleep, don’t you? Far be it from me to get in the way.”

Rin doesn’t want to hear what he has to say, she decides, as she pulls herself up to sitting beside him. She’s not certain she can look at him either, not at the cool and aloof expression that seems to have taken residence across his features. 

He hadn’t looked like that when he kissed her. 

No, he had looked the exact opposite, his expression mirroring the longing she knows had been etched onto her own as their lips had met.

Without a word, Rin stands and walks over the blankets heaped along the floor to where her clothes lay discarded in a heap, her footsteps soft against the ground. 

Silently, she redresses, not bothering with the corset as she leaves it unlaced at her feet and pulls the rest of her clothes back on with perfunctory ease. Her tunic is partially over her head when she dares a look back at Astarion, the collar floating down to rest against her skin as she turns her head.

His face is imperceptible as he watches her, sitting still as stone. She forces a small smile, hoping that the dejection she feels doesn’t come across as she speaks to him one last time for the evening.

“Sleep well, Astarion.”

Astarion nods his head, a clear dismissal if she’s ever seen one. “Until the morning, darling.”

Until the morning, indeed. 

Until the morning, where they’ll pretend everything is fine and nothing has changed as they play around each other in some sort of tiring, endless game.

And maybe Astarion can. Maybe, for him, nothing ever did change.

Rin doesn’t know quite what it is that they are building towards; but between the little bits of their lives shared with one another, the tiny little secrets that bare ragged pieces of their souls, the long evenings spent by the side of the fire laughing and talking and playing games, between the kisses and caresses and the meeting of their eyes—it feels like something.

Something more than simply being bedmates.

With a single, deep breath she reaches down to grab her corset, collecting it in hand as she turns and walks out the front flap of his tent without another look back, unable to promise she can keep her expression even in the face of his seemingly cold indifference. 

Rin keeps her eyes ahead as she walks by the campfire, Gale politely looking the other way, not commenting on how she must look or what he must have heard—her hair is undoubtedly a mess, corset rumpled in hand, lips still too swollen to be confused with being anything other than readily kissed.

She withholds the sigh that threatens to break free as she makes her way towards her tent, and she’s grateful that at least there is no one else by the fire to witness the utterly pathetic sight of her as she keeps her eyes straight forward. 

“I hope you know what you are doing.” Gale’s voice stops her before she can step into her tent, and she freezes, shifting the corset in hand in hopes of hiding it better, though she knows it’s useless. “I say this with the utmost respect, you understand. As your friend.”

Rin can hear the slightest bit of judgment in the words despite the kindness of them but she shakes it off. She probably deserves his judgment, in the end.

She pastes a weak smile on her face, squeezing the corset tighter in her hand as she turns to look at the wizard where he sits by the fire, a familiar spell book in hand. 

“It’s all good Gale, nothing to worry about. I promise.”

“I trust your judgement, then. Sleep well, my friend.” Gale gives her a polite nod, but the look on his face says that he’s thoroughly unconvinced by her words.

Such aspiring confidence her companions have in her, it seems.

Rin certainly doesn’t blame him for it.

She can barely convince herself of the fact, after all.

With one last sigh she walks through the flap of her tent, letting it flutter shut behind her as she steps inside the familiar surroundings she now calls home.

It smells like it always does, jasmine and honey hanging in the air, and not a one of her possessions is out of place—however few of them she has. 

But as she drops the corset on the ground, she can’t help but feel that something is missing.

Hands come up to cover her eyes as she presses the heel of her palms into them, hoping to rid her mind of such thoughts, however there’s no comfort to be found as shapes swirl on the back of her eyelids.

If she had any sense at all, she would quit while she was still ahead and could leave somewhat unscathed from whatever this thing growing between them is.

But she knows herself better than that.

She knows that, instead of stopping this and sparing herself the almost inevitable promise of pain that their little affair will bring, she will pull herself back together just in time to face the darkness of the morning and pretend that everything is just fine—all the while knowing deep down that she will keep making the same mistake over and over again and relish it every single time.

[autistichalsin]

Both Karlach and Halsin are buff capable adults with strong morality, but inside THEY ARE KIDS FULL OF JOY TO BE ALIVE IN THE WORLD FULL OF WONDERS as Oak Father Intended

So strong, so fragile, as life itself LET THEM LOVE LET THEM BE

GOD BUT THIS PART.

They're adults, traumatized, with both having experienced the worst the world can offer, having their freedom and autonomy denied to them, socially isolated. Both have the Outlander background. Both lost their families, both are war veterans.

Yet they both are still so full of love and joy. Halsin is unable to show it the way he wants to when we meet him, while Karlach never wavers from it, yet at the end they're both able to show who they are. How they love LIFE itself more than anything, how they're so full of kindness and compassion and love to protect the weak.

Karlach isn't certain she wants kids at first, but Halsin is- yet when you bring the idea up to her, she warms to it at once. She also teases the idea of getting a "really mean goat." You know who loves all life, all animals? Halsin.

If you bring Karlach to the love dryad and are asked where she'll be in 10 years, you can say "worshipping Selune"; Karlach responds that she's nice, but Karlach is more of a sunshine girl herself.

Sunshine.

What is Halsin's quest about again? Bringing something back to a certain cursed land?

... Right. SUNLIGHT. "If the sun shines on this place once more..."

Sunlight is essential for life. Essential for plants to grow. Halsin wants to infuse life and light back into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, and Karlach alludes to the god of sunlight as being perhaps the only one she'd consider becoming a follower of.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE? If Karlach asks Halsin for stories, he mentions how while everyone wants the most exciting chapters, he spends plenty of time hibernating in bear form. Karlach gets excited, saying "sleep AND adventure! Maybe I'll come back as a bear in some future life!"

IF THAT ISN'T SYMBOLISM, I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!

Both are protective of those who need it most. Both have a great deal of empathy. Karlach is more childish in many ways than Halsin, but this could help him let his playful side out more, while Halsin's maturity could help ground Karlach when she needs it. Karlach is always raring to go for a good fight, never straying from what needs to be done, while Halsin is more pragmatic and able to understand when a fight will accomplish nothing. They offset each other in so many good ways while retaining the same core personality- warm, loving, full of life and care and compassion.

Both are touch-starved; you can see how Halsin reacts to being hugged in the epilogue, stating that he always needs a hug and if he ever refuses one, to assume he's been replaced by a doppelganger, while Karlach went without for TEN YEARS. Both are socially isolated, Halsin having been made a sex slave, lost his family, endured the Shadow Curse, and then forced into a leadership role, while Karlach lost her family too, was dragged into hell to fight for ten years where none of her "comrades" would have been worth talking to, and now faces a terminal illness on top of that.

In all the party banters in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, it's KARLACH who shows the most concern for Halsin's mental state, who is horrified when he talks about what he witnessed and how it still affects him. A soft "poor man" in one, and a "stay strong, bear man, we're still here" in another. Karlach is able to see that just once, Halsin wants to be soothed the way he does for others. And similarly, it's Halsin to tell her he "will not try to soothe her with gilded words" but that he "is still here" for her when Karlach finally realizes the truth of her impending death, because Halsin can see that in that moment, Karlach doesn't want to be told it'll be okay; she wants to be told that she isn't alone, that her presence, for however short a time it'll linger, will be cherished by those close to her. Instinctively, they understand these needs the other has at their worst, darkest moments.

I just love them a lot, okay?

[toxic-lass]

Some guy, and all his friends!

I wanted to do that relationship chart that went around forever ago, BUT I wanted to try my best to draw the gang. So I'm getting on this bandwagon late BUT I DID IT (minus Minthara, he's never gotten to really meet her)

And then I got carried away and wrote out little blurbs for the gang (I am n o t a writer) so that's below the cut. "Enemies" is also way too strong a word for all his companions he just "had beef" with.

Astarion: Their relationship is surprisingly complex. Gideon was already wary of Astarion upon first meeting him because he claimed to be a magistrate from Baldur's Gate. Gid is heavily suspicious of everyone he encounters with any ties to nobility or the Upper City. He is hiding a huge part of his life from the entire party afterall, meeting someone too close to his old life could prove to be a problem, should they have ever crossed paths with him or his family. However upon finding out Astarion was a vampire he feels a bit more at ease, selfishly he sees this as his advantage over the elf. If he knew too much, or even just more than he was letting on, Gid could have a response. Thankfully nothing ever really came of his worries. He honestly wasn't all that threatened by Astarion. Whether true or not, he believed whole heartedly that he could deal with a vampire should the need arise, and it almost did, they got in a rather intense scuffle the first time Astarion tried to bite him, that was a bit of a bad look, Gideon didn't appreciate it. But, after a couple of rough patches they do end up becoming genuine friends. Astarion saw him as a means to an end, a meat shield who could protect him if it came down theough it: and Gideon willingly did just that, minus the "meat shield" part, he didn't know Astarion called him that… But multiple times throughout their travels the barbarian assured Astarion he wouldn't let anything happen to him, and over time Astarion realized he believed him.

Gale: Gale is... the first subject of Gideon’s... bullying? Gideon has some pretty intense feelings about spellcasters. Traditional spellcasters mind you, he displays very obvious distrust of sorcerers, wizards, and warlocks. So he isn't always very nice to Gale, who tends to go out of his way to be courteous to him despite the way he's treated. Gideon harshly rejects his offers to show him magic, he doesn't humor his musings about the weave, the only kindness he gets from Gideon is that the barbarian is at least sympathetic to his condition. Gideon actually knows Gale from the city, on a surface level. Gid's mother was an enchantress, she had her finger on the pulse of everything related to magic. So of course she heard of Mystra's Chosen and by extension the tiefling did as well. Gale was something Gideon studied years to never become, a prodigy, a powerful master of arcana. Gideon resents him, for these things that are out of his control. Upon finding out more about Gale's situation, and the revelation of Mystra's coldness and true intentions, Gideon becomes kinder to him. Even apologizing for any of his actions. They do become friends, and Gid values him as such. Hoping he'll understand that he's so much more than his magic and his goddess.

Halsin: Gideon doesn't have many thoughts on Halsin. He sees him as well spoken and wise but beyond that the tiefling doesn't have much of a relationship with the druid. It's in part because he frequently finds himself embarrassed by Halsin's flattery and he just doesn't quiet know how to talk to him. But also because Gideon’s “solutions” to problems, aren't usually the way Halsin would solve problems. Where Halsin believes There could be a more peaceful resolution, the odds of Gideon using brute force and intimidation before peace is even considered is always higher than not. They have a mutual respect for one another, but not much else beyond that.

Jaheria: It's hard to tell if she actually enjoys him, or if it’s some sort of pity that shapes their relationship, but Jaheria does like Gid, and the feelings are mutual. Gideon greatly admires her. It's that he clearly just admires her as a person, and finds her presence comforting, since he actually admitted to not really knowing much of her story, given his sheltered life there are lots of things he isn't quiet aware of. She seems to understand that and treats him kindly after their rocky first meeting. He is often able to convince her to share some stories with them under the guise that he and Karlach want to listen, when in reality he wants to know more about her, and she knows that, but humors him anyway. His cautious optimism and steadfast bravery remind her of friends who've come and gone, and she hopes he finds the life he deserves at the end of everything.  

Karlach: They knew eachother once. Though neither recalls because time has been cruel. But they did. They met as kids, and only knew eachother by informal names. She just called him Evervale, and he only knew her as K. They weren't in each other's lives long, so when they met again some decade later they were none the wiser. She is easily the companion to become the closest to him, the quickest. They have a lot in common despite living two very different lives. It's not hard to see why they had little crushes on one another for a pretty long time. But it never really develops into any besides that: a crush, puppy love. They're platonic soulmates in every right, or maybe 'right person, wrong time'? There is a certain tragedy to their relationship but it becomes clear to everyone (except him... for awhile atleast) that he clearly loves someone else and they aren't meant for eachother like that. She's actually the one who points it out to him, insisting he should go with his heart. This actually hurts him a little as he doesn't see the truth in her words, and for awhile they stop speaking as Gideon isolates himself. But that doesn't last long at all, when the part encounters Dammon again at Last Light Inn. With Karlach's second upgrade Gideon can't stop himself from pulling her in to a hug, which he returns instantly. With the moment quickly turning somber at the news they receive about her engine. The two spend that night together as friends, though he tries to ask her about her engine he stops when she asks him to, and they just spend the night sharing some drinks and stories under the stars.

By the time they reach Baldur's Gate they're pretty much inseparable, attached at the hip wherever they go having one pretty significant squabble about Raphael but in the end there's not many people he trusts as much as her. And he holds her trust in him as an incredibly high honor he doesn't take lightly and would do anything for her.

Lae'zel: Gideon greatly respects Lae'zel. Lae'zel… acknowledges he exists. The way he looks at Shadowheart disgusts her, the way he empathizes with strangers disgusts her- she sees him as soft and weak, perhaps rightfully so. When meeting strangers sometimes Gideon will withhold some of the truth about his class, if not outright lie. As a noble he has preconceived notions about how someone claiming to be a "barbarian" may be perceived. So upon meeting the party, he told them he was simply a fighter, something he tried to use as common ground with Lae'zel. If anything this just made it worse, as she would often comment on how tender he tended to be, and how it was a miracle he hadn’t be brutally gutted yet, as he lacked discipline and principle. This charade couldn't last forever though, as in one particular fight, when their tiefling 'fighter' friend flew off the handle and brutally pummeled some goblins with a rock after one caught the Bard he befriended with a stray arrow, the party had more than a few questions; it was obvious their blood soaked fighter wasn't entirely honest with them. While everyone else briefly felt a little more tense around him, Lae'zel actually softened toward him. They reached some form of understanding. He was simply a different kind of warrior than she was, and a fearsome one at that, she grew to respect him and he returned it in kind. They become genuine friends after everything, and eventually he even gets the 'Thank you' he asked for all that time ago.

Shadowheart: I'm not immune to the "A fell first, B fell harder" trope, and that is them in a nutshell. Gideon liked her pretty early on in a platonic way, he found her company enjoyable enough. Though by his own standards of "enjoyable", a lot of their time spent together then, was him irritating her. He saved her life once and that was really the only thing they had between them. She was secretive and guarded, he was somewhat honest and eager to help. She felt he was an idiot with a bleeding heart, who shared far too much with strangers, and he felt she was just kind of mean. That didn't stop him from developing feelings toward her, however they weren't so obvious, as if he didn't even realize it himself. He was the only member of the party to seem unrattled by her revelation of Shar worship, which is what perhaps made her see him as a real ally. She confided in him, and without fail he listened. Now whether or not he would throw in a joke in response was up in the air, but it was never malicious, and he always knew there was a time and a place. His goal was never to actively hurt or upset her, though he did tend to pry when she would make vague comments about her mission or getting back to the city. It was to be expected, that was their dynamic. It would actually be Shadowheart who confronted his feelings toward her. They spend the night of the Grove Party together and the next morning she muses about how for some reason she thought he wanted to kiss her, and that he would but didn't... He's an idiot, he plays it off, they have a laugh, but this is a turning point for the both of them.

The Shadowcursed Lands are particularly hard on him, even though he isn't a religious man, uncovering the story of Moonrise and what befell the town of Reithwin because of Shar, really shakes him. He and Shadowheart drift apart during this time as the way he sees her actually shifts. After she choses to spare the Nightsong, when they escape the Shadowfell, Gideon is the first person to rush to her. It is in this moment the barbarian finally confesses how he feels and she returns those feelings.

Gideon doesn't see much in himself, but she sees him as a light in the dark. The irony of it is, that's exactly how he sees her too. They're a balance neither realized they needed.

He and Wyll are also ironically two endings of a similar story, Gideon realizes this, and it drives him mad. Wyll is noble hearted, wants to do what's right, and free himself in the process; Gideon is furious, wants to survive, and is destroying himself in his efforts to do so. Unlike Wyll, Gideon believes he will never be free of his family name, he will never be anyone more than Gideon Evervale. There are no legendary heroics in his future, he is no Blade of Frontiers, he is simply an angry, hurt man, who can't escape the darkness that haunts him.

Wyll: Wyll is so kind, and patient, and good… and Gideon can't stand that about him. While Wyll likes Gid well enough, Gideon is extremely cold and abrasive towards Wyll. Again Gideon doesn't trust magic users, wizards, sorcerers, warlocks. Things like Arcane Tricksters or Paladins or Clerics don't seem to bother him, but he is extremely wary of spellcasters. (He has a big "I told you so" moment after the party meets Lorroakan. He talks about it for days after, he is extremely committed to this bit. “Oh, who would've thought the sorcerer who sent mercs to hunt Aylin was a BAD GUY”)

These feelings are obvious one sided, Wyll is always kind and patient with Gid no matter how the barbarian treats him, because he can see Gideon is hurting, and his anger is misplaced.

As their respective stories unfold Gideon does grow kinder to Wyll, as the Warlock along with the others eventually learn the truth about their barbarian, and he can see Gideon’s rage. And Gideon comes to realize just how much he and Wyll have in common when the party learns about the Duke. Gideon does eventually apologize to Wyll, for everything he ever said or did. He acknowledges the other man had no reason to be so understanding to him, when all he ever was was cruel.

They respect eachother in the end. The warlock helps him see he's more than his past, and life will go on.

[pendragon1400]

The stores have valentines day up, and I'm once again alone and lonely! So to fill the void in my heart, here is how each of the companions in bg3 would celebrate valentines with Tav!

Astarion: He goes all out, like nothing is over looked. Tav's favorite flowers, Tav's favorite candy. A fancy restaurant with a nice meal. He gets floored by the fact that Tav not only remembered as well, but got him gifts, and his favorite things as well. Also you know that he would put rose petals all the way up the stairs, and have silk everything on the bed.

Gale: Gale has been prepping for a year in advance at least. Making note of what food Tav likes best. Than while Tav is out of the house, cooks a freaking nine course meal with all of Tav's favorites. He gets a little teary when Tav comes back with presents and candy for him as well.

Wyll: He totally spent three days over poetry for Tav. Leaving little poems all around the house all day for Tav to discover. Also the amount of flowers that he put around the most likely emptied three florists. He loves anything Tav gives him as a gift, it got be socks with hearts on it, and he would adore it.

Karlach: Stuffed animals. Tav is bombarded with stuff animals and kisses before they even wake up. Karlach got you a bear that she puts beside Clive, "Now Clive has a hot date too!". A reservation was made by Tav for Karlach's favorite restaurant. They end up sharing a booth, since Karlach can't and won't stop touching Tav all through dinner.

Shadowheart: She pretends that she has no idea what the day is. But has several arrands to run in that day. This not only gives Tav time to set up a nice surprise, but Shadowheart comes back with presents for Tav. One of which being for night time.

Lae'zel: She is not sure of this holiday. Public displays of affection are not to her taste. But, she does love the gift that Tav gave her. A new sharpener for her sword.

Halsin: He gives Tav the most carefully, picked wildflowers. He is the type of person to know the meaning behind each flower, and gives you a poem made entirely of flowers, before your picnic in the woods. Halsin also loves the gift Tav got him which was a honey sampler.

[pupmkincake2000]

So, I never thought that I'd play Baldur's Gate 3, since turn-based RPGs are not my thing. But I was literally persuaded to play this game and I just have to share my impressions.

I did watch shorts and videos on YouTube, so I was aware of the world and characters before playing. That's why I decided to start Gale's origin

and I think if I decide to replay the game, I will choose him again, since he is the best. Yes, I think he is. I love good characters, kind, sympathetic, a little ambitious, gentle and loyal. And Gale fits my taste standards perfectly. He kind of reminds me of a sweet Hank Anderson from Detroit: Become Human. Noble, kind, gentle and faithful.

And, the funniest thing is that I decided to romance Astarion. Playing as Gale.

But not because I like Astarion.

On the contrary (and now hear me out), the more I played, the more he annoyed me, and I didn’t understand why people were so crazy about him. I mean, if you want him to like you, you need to do morally questionable things. Not to mention he is absolutely not my type, I never liked characters like him. That is, Astarion is the embodiment of everything that disappoints me in characters.

And you can talk as much as you like about his life being difficult. Because this does not justify many of his actions.

However, the ship itself works surprisingly well. I mean, I really like Gale and I don't like Astarion, but their ship surprisingly works. And now in a ship Astarion seems much... likable?

Basically, they are a perfect complement to each other, which is exactly the type of relationship I love. They help each other, they do not “fix” each other, but complement each other. They heal each other. Their relationship is not abusive if both work on this relationship, and the love between them is that type of love that happens probably once in a century. And to be honest, I don't want to make Astarion an ascended vampire (I haven't finished the game yet), I'm sure Gale will find a way for him to walk in the sun without the ritual.

Well, now to the other characters. Karlach and Wyll

are just two incredible sunshines. I tried to build friendly relations with them, I didn’t choose flirt while answering their lines, but for some reason they still ended up offering me sex, and it was really awkward and painful to turn them down.

So I just started shipping them together because it's another type of relationship I enjoy. It’s a pity that their couple is not popular (is there such a pairing at all?). This is the perfect “enemies to lovers” ship and it’s a shame that they can’t, like in some games, flirt with each other if they don’t have any affair with the main character .

I have almost nothing to say about Shadowheart, I’m not particularly interested in her (my party consists mainly of Astarion, Karlach and Lae'zel), but I think she has enough fans.

Halsin… oh, he is a magnificent man, and I would have romanced him if not the reasons. But I want you to know that he is also an incredible sunshine too, kind soft teddy bear who I wanted to hug and never let go.

And finally, HIM. Mysterious Guest. I knew this was an emperor, but I really liked the look I've created for him! I made him look like Hank Anderson, of course he didn’t look exactly like him, but nevertheless… I think he turned out very beautiful.

Let me scream about this beaty for a while!

In general, apart from problems with the gameplay (it took me a long time to get used to it), the game is really nice. The only thing that, it seems to me, would be worth changing is the permissiveness of choices when you go through the origin of any of the main characters, as was done with the Dark Urge. I mean, Wyll, Karlach and Gail are sunshines, so I absolutely can't believe that they are capable of doing bad things. If you can't avoid bad deeds when playing as the Urge, why can't you make it so that good characters are unable to do bad deeds? Would you really believe that Gale, Wyll or Karlach would be capable of slaughtering the whole village of children? For example, I believe that Astarion most likely would not have saved Shadowheart in the first act; he behaves selfishly throughout the entire first act. But I don’t believe that Karlach, Wyll and Gale would be capable of leaving her caged.

So, yeah, that's it.

[umbralaether]

I am loving your BG3 writing, so: “you have no idea what you've done to me.”

No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop staring at her hands.

Hands that were quick to fight, to burn and break when needed; impulsive at worst and calculated at best. She had no problem using them this way, chipping blood from her fingertips like old paint, it was all a means to an end.

When her hands did not end up driving a stake through his heart, he knew she’d be the perfect shield. For all intents and purposes, everything was going according to plan. He could ignore the strange fluttering in his chest whenever her hands brushed against his skin. After all, it meant nothing. A strange side effect of survival.

At least he had thought so.

Watching that same gentle hand given to others twisted something strange in him. How captivating it was to see her fingers combing through Shadowheart's hair, weaving small white flowers into the dark locks as she braided them into their usual fashion. The act was almost imperceptible to the half-elf until one fell into her lap, leaving her flustered as Ceruli laughed in turn. You deserve a bit of niceness now and then too, you know!

His thoughts drift to what it would feel like to have those hands run through his own hair, if the soft caress of her fingers would awaken that same flustered response. He starts to question the fairness of it all, that Shadowheart should get to know this feeling when he hadn't, that she should experience her softness in a way he’d only seen.

“Careful, Astarion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are envious of our Lady Shadowheart,” Wyll’s smirk is worse than his words.

“Envious? My, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m simply enjoying the show.”

Ever the masochist, he finds himself still thinking of her hands in his hair when he comes to feed later that night. Part of him aches, wanting to know if the sensation would be soft, pleasing. If he would like it, if he could get lost in it. He certainly couldn’t ask her to do such a thing, of course.

Perhaps he was envious after all.

Wyll's comment eats at him still, resurfacing a few nights later when she recruits the Druid and he makes her laugh, a rare sound to hear in the Shadowlands. He grits his teeth when Halsin kisses her hand, wishing her a good night, and for a moment he wants to take those hands in his if only to remind her of him, however odd it seemed.

He once again shoves aside the fluttering in his chest. Why should he be so bothered by this? He could get whatever he wanted from her should he attempt the same flattery. A few honeyed words here, a sultry look there. It was easy.

So why did Halsin's forwardness rub him the wrong way?

He doesn’t find the answer until later, when he comes to feed one night; her gaze warm, inviting. She looks at him as if she truly sees him. It hits him then— he wants her to want him, willingly, not tricked into it with pretty words. Not just because of an alliance, or an agreement. He wanted her to want him, the person he was under the many masks he’d put up to hide behind.

You have no idea what you've done to me.

He’s ready to be fully wrecked, and he doesn’t know what he expects, telling her the truth. Exposing the raw parts of himself, against all better judgement. Admitting that his plan for protection was going so well until he went and compromised it. By feeling… what, exactly? A strange sense of fondness?

“I care for you, Astarion.”

She steps close, pulling him into her embrace. He freezes with an almost animalistic need to flee bubbling up— then stops, realizing what this is. He returns the hug, the fear melting away. This is what he's wanted, after all. Her touch. Her acceptance.

A spark, newly born.