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sinofwriting · 7 months

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Wait - Ollie Bearman

Words: 4,936 Summary: Ollie Bearman doesn’t wear necklaces, it’s just not his thing. So why during the 2023 Mexico GP is he spotted wearing a necklace with a familiar ring hanging from the chain Note(s)/Warning(s): This is in fact the purity ring fic. It’s a bit NSFW. Reader is Max Verstappen’s little sister. I nearly included lestappen because the idea of both Verstappen siblings dating a Ferrari (or Ferrari adjacent) driver was funny to me, but I didn’t. Also, thank you to all the people who told me to write this. I’m going to go somewhere, but I’m glad I did!

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A ring sits on her finger. The same finger that will one day have an engagement ring then a wedding band to join. The band is thin with two knots and between both knots are four tiny pearls, barely the size of a grain of rice and in the middle of those four pearls is a mix of her birthstone and Max’s. She had gotten it when she was eleven shortly after she had heard Max joking with some of his friends about sex and she went to their mom asking what exactly they meant and for the past six years it had sat there.

It was the first big purchase Max had made with his F1 paycheck. The seventeen year old had felt ashamed and horrified at his baby sister overhearing the things him and friends were joking about. And even worse when their mom had to give her the talk. It had been nothing however compared to what their father had thought when learning of it. Max had swore his ears were ringing as Jos had yelled at him for first having his friends around her and second talking about sex when he knew that she was in the house and liked to randomly join them.

The ring had been a nice way to ease the tension and though he had been a bit red as he explained what it was to her, she had nodded along with his explanation, looking serious before putting it on and then smiling at him and hugging him.

At eleven it hadn’t really been an issue, wearing a purity ring, promising that she’d wait to be married before having sex. It hadn’t been a problem when she was fifteen and her first spike of hormones hit and suddenly sex wasn’t something that felt so far away or like a weird foreign concept. It hadn’t been a problem at sixteen either when she got her first boyfriend, who Max had quickly run off.

It had started to be a problem after she turned seventeen and got together with Ollie.

Ollie who she was never supposed to meet. Was only supposed to know of because she followed F2 and F3. But then she joined Max for the remainder of the 2022 season in July. Done with school and unsure if she wanted to go to Uni, unsure really of what she wanted to do.

She had planned to stay home with her mom, putter about the house, maybe do some small writing for Redline and Verstappen.com that she’d email to Kris, who would send her the money that they got paid for them instead of submitting them herself where Max would be sure to give her a stupid amount of money for something that took maybe thirty minutes to write.

But then Max had heard about her plans and she was officially employed by her brother. Managing his website, instagram, and Redline’s social media, going with him to every race, which meant that she had far too much free time and meant that she found herself following around Jack Crawford as he finished up his F3 season which meant running into Ollie Bearman.

Ollie, who was so unexpectedly sweet and cute, who made all the blood rush to her face as her heart worked overtime, made butterflies appear in her stomach.

It had been the second time that they saw each other that he had asked her on a date and now a year later, the two are now both eighteen and head over heels in love, and the ring that rests on her left ring finger feels more like a nuisance.

She had never had sex, hadn’t even really touched or been touched until Ollie but as the F2 season had grown to a close it felt like that was all that was on her mind and Ollie’s.

The kisses they shared when alone quickly grew into heated make out sessions and when they had time, they found themselves in his hotel room under the covers, underwear still on but hands exploring each other's bodies.

She falls in love with the pattern of freckles on his back and the way he shivers when she traces them with her fingers. The spot above his heart that always makes his breath hitch when she kisses it. His strong calves that always tense right after his thighs when she settles on his lap. His hands and how much bigger than hers they are. And his fingers that he lets her play with, kiss and nibble at just to see and hear the stuttered breath he gives as his cheeks turn red.

He falls in love with the small tattoo that still only he knows she has, it’s small enough to just barely be hidden by even her more risqué bikinis. The scar she has on her knee that makes her shiver when his fingers or lips touch it. The soft skin of the underside of her breasts, because it feels nice to stroke when he gets the chance to dip his hands underneath her bra. The moan she gives when he settles in between her thighs and rests his weight on top of her as they kiss.

Ollie knows what the ring is, what it means, what she promised Max. It’s the one thing that always reminds him to stop, that pulls him back when he’s about to dip his fingers beneath her underwear to feel her wetness against his fingers or about to ask her to take her bra off, to let him see more of her. The feeling of her ring always draws him back. Makes him refocus on just kissing her and not getting ahead of himself before he makes another mess of himself.

He sees it every time he sees her, he kisses it every time he lifts her hand to his lips, first kissing the ring, a silent promise to himself that one day he’ll replace it with a ring of his own, before kissing her hand.

So Ollie doesn’t think anything when he comes home from simulator work to his flat in Maranello smelling like brownies. It had taken a bit to convince Max that she didn’t want to go home but rather wanted to go on a little trip with her friends. She just neglected to mention that there was no trip, and by friends she meant boyfriend, and really she meant during the week break they’d have she’d be going to Italy to stay with Ollie.

“That smells so good.” Ollie groans, kicking his shoes off before moving further into the flat. She beams at him, accepting the kiss he presses to her cheek. “I know you had dinner there so I made brownies. And not a whole pan.” She adds. “I know you can’t indulge too much.” “Thank you.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back into him.

He starts to sway them both as he stares at the small pan of brownies, the smell of them mouthwatering.

“Can I have one?” “They like just got out of the oven.” He pouts, bending his neck and pressing his face into her neck. “Please?” “You're going to burn your fingers and mouth.” She laughs. “Pretty please?” He tries. She makes a humming noise, one he feels more than hears. “Only if you give me a kiss first.” “Deal.”

She giggles as he quickly turns her in his arms. “Hi.” She greets as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Hi.” He parrots back and the thought of the brownies are gone from his mind as he looks at her.

She’s got a piece of his merch on, one of the sample sweatshirts, but also a pair of his boxer briefs. It’s like she’s drowning in him and he just wants to add to it.

Pressing their lips together, he grunts when her nails dig lightly into the back of his neck.

“Sorry.” She murmurs against his lips. He shakes his head, “it’s fine.”

They stand there for a while just kissing, but then his hands are moving underneath the top she’s wearing, grasping at her hips before fingers trail up her sides before back down and she’s pulling him to his bedroom.

They’ve done this so much that it takes barely any time for him to take his FDA polo off and then his jeans before joining her in bed, settling between her thighs. It doesn’t however stop him from rocking his hips into hers a couple of times before he can stop himself, hunger only growing when her hips hitch upwards and she’s wrapping a leg around him, pulling him closer.

“Fuck, darling.” He gasps, pressing kisses to her exposed throat. She moans, her hands resting on his bare back and it’s the feeling of her ring that makes him stop. Hips nearly thrusting again when she whines, but he tenses his whole body, not letting it loosen even when he kisses her again, swallowing the next whine she lets out.

His right hand makes his way underneath her top as they continue to kiss, his body relaxing into hers as he gets control of himself again.

As his fingers creep up her side, he wonders what they’ll feel. The spandex of her sports bra? The cotton or whatever it is of the one bra she likes to wear to media days? Maybe lace? His mind spins at the last option and he gulps.

She’s only worn lace once and it was on their year anniversary, their first approved sleepover. Though Max had made sure to get her from his hotel room at 11 am. But he considers they have the rest of the week just them together and he doesn’t have to go into the factory anymore. And she made him brownies, homemade. He knows because of the way she had been standing at the kitchen counter, carefully looking at them. So, maybe another treat for him was her wearing lace.

But as fingers reach where he’d normally feel the edge of something there is nothing. He goes to frown but before he can, her chest rises, his fingers graze the underside of her left breast and his hips are snapping into her again.

“Oh my god.” She moans at the feeling. “Fuck.” He curses and he feels out of breath as he feels more of her. “You’re not,” he mutters. “You’re not wearing anything.” She shakes her head, bucking her hips wanting more friction. “Please, Ollie. Want more, want it off.” He should be saying no, he can already feel his control hanging by thread at the knowledge that she’s not wearing a bra, he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he sees her boobs for the first time, but he’s backing away, letting her sit up, and she’s flinging his sweatshirt off.

His jaw drops at the sight, eyes wide and his dick twitches. He sees the way she bites at her lips, arms starting to come up and he’s quick to react. Fingers touching the soft skin, thumbs rubbing at her nipples as he sort of holds them.

“Pretty.” He manages to get out and feels himself blush. “Can we kiss again?” Ollie nods, eager.

He carefully lays next to her, drawing her on top of him, the two both gasping at the feeling of her bare breasts resting on his bare chest.

His hands dance up and down her back, sometimes his pinky fingers dipping below the waistband of his boxer briefs that she’s wearing before moving back up again as they kiss, hips still moving together.

When she shifts a little on top of him, moaning, he grasps at her hips, stopping her from moving as he feels himself twitch and he just knows that he has to be leaking, creating a wet spot in his underwear.

“We have to stop.” “I’m close though.” His head falls back and he groans. “I am too.” “I,” She stops, thinking of the lingerie she had brought with her, the dinner reservation she had made for herself and Ollie tomorrow night, the necklace chain also in her suitcase. “I want more.” She says, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. “I want to have sex with you.” He’s looking at her wide eyes and she’d think that he didn’t want her back if she couldn’t feel how hard he was underneath her. “But,” his eyes dart to her left hand. “I thought we were waiting.” She feels blood rush to her cheeks at his whisper, at the promise he made for and to her.

She had been nervous when telling Ollie about her purity ring and about she would like to wait awhile, maybe even till marriage to have sex, especially after he shared that he had already had sex before. But he had been surprisingly okay with it after he had a few days to think and wrap his head around it, and not that she knew but to talk to his dad about it, before he came back said that he’d wait as long as she wanted.

“I mean, we did.” She whispers back. “I just, I think you’re the one, ya’know. And even if you aren’t, I can’t see myself ever regretting you.” There’s a stinging in his eyes and he clears his throat. “Okay.” He shifts her down a bit so he can sit up, pressing their lips together. “Okay.”

Her hands cup his cheeks as they kiss while his hands stay on her hips. Not moving or doing anything despite the fact that she’s given the all clear. It’s one of her hands dropping from his face to trail down his body, that makes his hands move, grabbing her ass, pressing her down and closer. It makes her gasp.

“Ollie.” He groans at the sound of her moaning his name. His eyes dart to his nightstand, where there should be some condoms in the drawer with lube as well and then he’s cursing, hands falling away from her. “We have to stop, darling. I’m sorry.” “But,” She shifts on top of him and he swears again when he looks down and sees a wet patch peeking out from where she’s sitting on top of him. “I know, but I don’t have any condoms.” He feels himself flush, “I threw them away after we got serious since I figured it wouldn’t happen for a few years.” “No.” She whines, heading dropping onto his shoulder as her whole body sags.

She hadn’t thought about buying condoms, mainly because despite the lingerie she packed and the dinner reservation, she hadn’t actually planned on them having sex. She just wanted more, even some dry humping or at the very least to feel fingers against her that weren’t her own.

“I could pull out.” The words are weak to his own ears. She lifts her head slightly to look at him. “Do you really think you could?” “I could run and get some condoms.” He really doesn’t feel like getting back in the car, doesn’t feel like leaving her, but he’d do it. "No,” she shakes her head. She didn’t like the idea of being alone, waiting for him to come back with condoms. Or him putting clothes back on, the idea makes her nose wrinkle. She then pauses as something comes to mind. “How’s your Italian?” His brows furrow at the question. “It’s decent. Basic and more strategy and car related. But I get by, why?” “I was thinking of Plan B.” “Plan B?” His brows furrow more before it clicks and his eyes widen, “oh, Plan B.” “Yeah, I’d still want it even if you do end up pulling out, but I don’t think that will happen.” He wants to protest, deny, argue that he absolutely could pull out, but it’d be a lie.

“Ollie.” She whines nearly an hour later as he tries to get her to separate her thighs. “You’re all sticky.” He tells her. “I need to clean you up before it dries.” And god was it a bitch to clean up dried cum. “I’ll be quick.” He promises. She pouts, but lets her thighs fall apart, wincing at the burning muscles. He swallows at the sight of their mixed release. He hadn’t managed to pull out the first time, but the second he had managed to, only to finish practically in her anyways. And it was worse because of her own two orgasms that added to the mess. Taking the damp cloth, he carefully cleans her up, apologizing when she whines when he presses a bit too much on her clit.

“Much better.” He grins, when he’s done. Throwing the cloth in the direction of his laundry hamper. “Cuddle?” She asks, making grabby hands at him and eagerly joins her again in bed, slipping the covers over both of them. “That’s better.” She mumbles, when they settle together and he laughs, pressing a kiss to her head.

It’s hard for him to leave when he wakes up in the morning. They’re still both naked and she’s sleeping peacefully beside him. But he’d rather go and get her the Plan B now, then put it off until later when she’ll be fully awake.

Rolling to his side, he presses a series of light kisses to her face. She mumbles a bit and he chuckles. “I’ve got to go, darling.” She mumbles again, turning to lay on her side as well. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be right back.” “Where are you going?” Her voice is low, thick with sleep. “I need to get some things real quickly. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, okay?” “Do you have to?” She pouts. “I’ll be quick.” He promises, bending to kiss her.

It takes him barely any time to get the Plan B and condoms, though he had stumbled his way through Italian to get the Plan B before just pulling up a picture of it.

“Darling?” He calls when he gets back. “Kitchen.” She calls back, a hint of sleep still in her voice. With the bag hanging from his finger, he walks to the kitchen. “I got you plan b and condoms for me, just in case.” “No, just in case. I’d like a repeat.” He grins at her, setting the bag on the counter. “Yeah?” She nods, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah.” Bending, he captures her lips in a quick kiss, humming.

“Want to do brownies for breakfast?” His eyes widen and they dart to the counter. “I completely forgot you even made those!” “I’ll take that a yes?” “Please!”

Cutting him a piece and then one of herself, she puts them on a plate as Ollie gets them both something to drink before they both go to the living room and sit on the couch.

“These are so good.” He mumbles, catching a crumb before it can fall. “You say that everytime.” “Because it’s true! These are really good.” Her brownie was a good bit smaller than his so as soon as she finishes her, she’s standing up and retrieving something from her suitcase, ignoring him asking where she’s going.

Sitting back down, she places a box in his lap.

“What is this?” He asks, setting the plate on the coffee table, only a few crumbs on it. “I bought it for you a while ago and have been carrying it around since, just wasn’t sure when exactly I’d give it to you.” He looks at her intrigued, before looking back at the box and carefully opening it.

Ollie’s brows furrow at the thin chain that rests inside. It was nice, very nice, though not by a brand that he recognized. It was also a weird gift considering he didn’t wear necklaces, though if he was going to wear one, it would be this one.

“What’s it for?” He asks. “I, uh,” she stutters a bit over her words, playing her ring before carefully pulling it off, flexing her fingers at the odd sensation of it not being there. “It’s for this.” And she drops the ring she’s worn since she was eleven into his palm. “But this is yours.” “And I can’t wear it anymore.” She tells him. “I intended to wait longer to have sex, but I don’t regret last night and I won’t regret anything we do in the future. It’s yours now and I kind of liked the idea of you carrying it with you wherever you go.” He stares at the ring, tries to ignore the pulse of want and smugness, because he got to have her first and he was fairly certain he’d be her only and last.

Lifting the chain out of the box, he carefully unclasps it, threading the ring on, before clasping it around his neck, the ring resting just below the hollow of his neck, easily hidden behind any shirt he wears if he has it tucked in.

Turning his neck, the sensation of something there is odd and he says that. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I like it.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

It doesn’t take him long to get used to the necklace and he practically never takes it off, only in the shower or when doing certain training sessions and it hasn't happened yet but when he has to get into the F1 car and then his F2 car, he’ll be taking it off then as well.

No one really notices his new accessory, he’s not doing much on social media, his mum and dad had asked him about it and he had flushed but just said that it was something she had gotten for him and lucky they didn’t press for more. It gives a false sense of security that comes crashing down in Mexico.

He’s on a bit of a high for doing his first free practice and not placing dead last even though it’s only free practice and placing doesn’t really matter. He’s out of his race suit, having been able to not shower but wipe himself down with a damp towel before getting back into the Haas polo and jumping in to do more media. And as he does some interviews he doesn’t notice the way her ring that’s kept underneath his shirt is on full display.

But it does come to his attention when he finally gets his phone and sees so many mentions and a strange text full of exclamation marks that has him quickly hitting the call button.

“Is everything okay? I got a weird text from you.” “Ollie.” “What’s wrong?” He’s about to exit the Haas hospitality, he could be at Red Bull’s in about a minute at the strained sound of her voice. “My ring, everyone saw my ring.” His eyes widen and he’s cursing. “Oh no.” “Yeah.” “And they all know.” “Yeah.” She confirms again. “Because Max had to make it clear what the ring was.” She laughs, but it’s clear that she’s on the verge of tears, her voice tight. The sound has him wanting to wrap in his arms, shield her away, but it also has him confused. She never cared about what fans thought of her. She was very much like her brother in that matter. It was all water off a duck’s back. “What’s wrong, darling?” He asks, dropping his voice as someone looks at him weirdly. “I just, Max hadn’t noticed, no one has really. And I don’t regret it Ollie, but that was a promise I made to Max, to save myself.” The last three words come out as a whisper. “And now he’s going to find out because the whole of F1 twitter is talking about it. I should’ve told him.” “It’ll be okay.” He reassures her, but now the realization has hit that he’s going to have deal with Max and not just Max, but Daniel and Charles and fucking Arthur, which is a bit insulting because it’s Arthur of all people, but the Leclerc’s liked her a lot, Charles liked to argue with Max that she was actually their younger sister and not Max’s, which lead to a headache of bickering between the two drivers.

“Can I come to you?” He looks down at his watch even though he knows that he doesn’t have any more interviews, just needs to stay to watch the last session play out since he already did his debriefing as well. “Yeah, do you want me to walk you over?” “No, I’ll be there in a second.”

Meeting her at the doors of the hospitality, he quickly ushers her in before leading her to a back corner, the both of them sinking to the floor, somewhat hidden from view by a couch.

“You alright?” “Yeah.” She breathes, pressing close to him. “I just should’ve said something to Max. I just didn’t want to say anything y’know?” And he can feel her nose wrinkle at the idea and his does the same. Because yeah it was a bit gross to think about telling your sibling that you’ve had sex just so they won’t be blindsided by the media. “He’s gonna hate me again.” She doesn’t say anything and he groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I just made some progress with him.” “I know, bear.” She murmurs, kissing his cheek. “I could put it back on? Say that I gave it to you as a good luck charm.”

It’s a good idea, a perfect solution for their problem, but it’s clear that she doesn’t like the idea and he doesn’t like the idea either. He’s grown used to the small weight of the ring resting below the hollow of his throat and he’s not fond of the idea of seeing a ring that’s not his on her ring finger again.

“Maybe I should propose.” She jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant.” He quickly says. “I just I don’t want to give it back. I don't want to see you wearing it again and I just,” he waves his hands around. “My brain was running. I’m sorry.” Her eyes are focused on his and she slowly presses back into him, though she keeps her head pulled back so they can look at each other. “Is that something you really want in the future? To be married to me?” “One hundred percent.” She blinks at the quick response, a smile starting to bloom on her face. “Not now, just because I don’t want to rely on nothing but sponsors and my dad for money, but maybe once I got an F1 seat and then got a contract extension or new seat. I’d have money to help support us, to buy you a nice ring, house.” He hopes that she can’t tell how much he’s thought about this, how much he’s rambled to both Jak and Fred about this even though if either of them got the chance they’d happily rat him out for being such a preteen girl, and he just knows that Jak told Fred what that means. “I want that too.”

Ollie wonders if him intending on marrying her, on putting a ring on her finger will lessen the brunt of anger he’s sure to receive and it doesn’t.

“You defiled my sister!” The eighteen years old both make a face at the Dutch man’s words. “No one defiled anyone.” Max ignores her, glaring at the British driver. “You touched her.” Ollie nearly reaches out for her hand, but keeps his hands to himself, as he gives a tiny nod. “Max, it’s alright. I wanted it.” Max and Daniel both make a face at her words. “Ew. You shouldn’t even know what it is.” “Well, Max kind of ruined that for me when I was eleven.” She snarks and her brother flushes. “Which is why I gave you the ring! You were supposed to save yourself for marriage! Keep yourself away from boys like Ollie!” “What’s wrong with me?” He asks, offended. “You’re a teenager.” Daniel tells him with a shrug. “And you’ve got a dick. That’s all it really takes.”

“What happened to waiting?” Max asks, voice a little quieter as he looks at her. “Max,” she starts and then includes the Alpha Tauri driver who’s inched closer. “Daniel. I thought I was going to wait for marriage, or at least a few more years, but Ollie,” she pauses, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. “Ollie feels like the one.” She reaches out for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “And even if he isn’t, I won’t regret what we did.”

The two older men stare at her, at them. One who can remember holding her just hours after she was born, and the other who got to know her shortly after Max’s fuck up when she was eleven. Both her brothers, one just a bit longer than the other.

Max swallows harshly, the full realization hitting him that his baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. She’s an adult and he’s never really had the right to get mad at her for things she does but he really doesn’t now. He can feel Daniel standing behind him, and knows that the older man will go with him whatever way he chooses.

Stepping forward, he pulls her into a hug and wonders where the time has gone. “As long as you don’t regret it, yeah?” She hugs him back tighter, tension in her shoulders loosening at his acceptance. “Yeah. Love you, Maxy.” He laughs, a quiet thing. “Love you too.”

@arshiyuh @mangotaitai @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy

#ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x reader #f2 x reader #f2 imagine #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman imagine

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hawkdaddy1111 · 6 months

Text

"Let the light in."

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Implies: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Reader is a Jujutsu sorcerer, Gojo Satoru is whipped, Eventual fluff, Idiots in love, crying.

Fueled by numbing drinks and emotional turmoil, you end up at the doorstep of your ex; Gojo Satoru.

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: I love hurt/comfort fics more than anything<3 let me know what you think of this!! I was debating on whether to post it or not but damn did it hurt while I was writing it😭.

🖇Masterlist

Rain.

Drenched and with glistening cheeks from the pouring rain, you stared at the door you had just knocked on. Your gaze lingered, yearning for it to swing open, revealing a glimmer of light and perhaps a semblance of comfort. Strangely, you couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for your presence at this mysterious doorstep.

Your mind was hazy and your steps were jittery, The scant clothing you wore offered little defense against the downpour, just further adding another layer of disarray to your already puzzled mind.

Midway through raising your fist for another knock–

The door swung open.

A pregnant pause enveloped the moment as the realization of the situation settled in. The door, now ajar, revealed not just an entry but a connection to a pair of piercing blue eyes.

Time seemed to momentarily stand still.

“Satoru…?”

Just seeing a glimpse of him is enough to make you blink back tears.

“Are you drunk?” you heard him mutter.

The rhythmic thud of your heart echoed in the charged atmosphere, words caught in your throat as you confronted the consequences of your actions. A replay of the night surfaced – the bar, the numbing drinks, and the desperate quest for comfort.

Your body and brain are contradicting each other.

"Sorry…" you slurred, the word left you as an apology for the late night disturbance and your presence as a whole.

You weren't supposed to be here, it was unfair for the both of you, it was so hard for you to move away, to move on.

the heaviness in your head amplifying with each step as you reluctantly turned to leave, rain-soaked and disoriented.

But a firm grip on your wrist halted your retreat.

"Are you?" Gojo's gaze bore into yours as you blinked back at him, eyes struggling to stay open, managing a feeble nod.

His gaze swept across the quiet streets, revealing a haunting emptiness accentuated by the relentless rain that cascaded with increasing intensity. “Are you crazy?”–

"Come in," he urged, the concern evident in his voice. The soft glow from his house spilled onto the wet pavement. He insisted, "It's late at night. I can't let you go back home on your own like this,"

You paused, caught in the gaze of those blue eyes— the ones you once thought would be a constant in your mornings, a promise of forever.

You gulped, nodding with qualm to his request.

you followed him into the warmth of his home. The familiar scent of his space enveloped you, and the soft glow of lights chased away the chill from your rain-soaked clothes, immediately welcoming you in.

You found yourself wrapped in a blanket, the contrast between the chilly exterior and the comforting interior adding layers to the gnawing familiarity of your surroundings.

A shiver coursed through you, prompting you to nuzzle further into the blanket, only to be enveloped by his lingering scent.

Your heart ached .

Alone in the room, memories whispered from the corners, carried by the very walls that had witnessed the laughter and shared secrets of days long gone. The familiar surroundings stirred a montage of moments – the subtle echoes of shared jokes, the surprise takeouts he would bring on a Thursday, the warmth of lazy Sunday mornings, and the quiet conversations that once filled the spaces now hushed in solitude.

For a second time, you tried to blink away the tears.

Gojo returned with a steaming mug as the aroma of a familiar herbal tea wafted through the air, the same one he would make you on days where you fell sick, or just as similar as the one the two of you would share on a cold December evening.

"Here... sit tight," Gojo gestured towards the couch behind you. You followed his suggestion, sinking into the cushions as he settled on the other side.

Sipping the tea brought instant comfort, a soothing ease that washed over you as it gradually sobered you up. With trembling hands, you clung to the mug as if it emitted a warmth capable of dispelling both the chill in the air and the uncertainties weighing on your mind.

A noticeable silence enveloped the both of you, a departure from the animated persona you were accustomed to. The Gojo you remembered was made of noise, echoing vitality loud enough to permeate the neighborhood. This uncharacteristic quietness left a void, making you long for the boisterous energy that once made each moment pulse with a vivid sense of life.

In fact, it was so ear muffling that you started hearing distant laughs of old memories trickling back into your mind, it was as if the walls of this room spoke volumes of the hours the two of you spent in the comfort of one another.

“You okay?” He finally broke the silence and it seemed to pull you right out of your trance. You turned your head towards him, only to find his eyes lost in the empty void of the television ahead.

“Better.” You replied– slightly moved by his concern.

Your eyes fell to the mug in your hands, seeing a glimpse of your face before you lightly shook it for the ripples to wash away your reflection.

You cleared your throat, trying to deviate the conversation away from your mental state, “Still using that tea I bought?”

You could see him shift in his place from the corner of your eyes, letting an arm drape on the couch as he thought of what to say, “I actually finished that container, so I had to buy another one.– Good stuff, you know.”

“Really? Never knew you were a tea enthusiast.” You raised your eyebrow, he only used to make it for you, rarely ever for himself, was it really because he liked it?

He sighed, still not meeting your gaze, “It happened recently, it does relax me after a long mission.”

You hummed, taking another sip as silence enveloped the air once again. “Collecting Digimon cards no longer relaxes you?”

His head perked up.

"Wanna know something funny? remember that one card I tried so hard to get?" Gojo's voice carried a distinct edge, a mix of triumph and something else, prompting you to pause and turn toward him. He reached for his phone with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

When he showed you the screen, your eyes widened in disbelief.

Tyrannomon Series 2 Gold Stamped (2000)

“What?! You actually bought it?”

“It's supposed to come in tomorrow.”

“I'm actually speechless– for how much did you even buy it?”

“Not telling.~” Gojo's playful grin slowly made its way back to his face, ever so slightly.

“Okay, mysterious. I'll just imagine an exorbitant number then.”

“Should have seen Yuji’s face when he first saw it hehe,” A subdued laugh slipped past his lips, looking back at his screen.

“Oh wait, How are the kids doing?” You asked once again, out of pure curiosity.

At least, talking to him as if nothing happened did distract you from your constant heartbreak.

“My students? Better than ever, they're improving everyday, I had to give Mei-san 10 million yen to recommend them though.” he grinned at the mention of his students, rubbing the back of his head.

“You brided Mei-san into recommending your students?” Your eyes met his, raised eyebrows but really– was it that much of a surprise?

“When you put it that way…” He trailed off.

“10 million yen on top? You're going to go broke at some point.”

He pouted, looking at you almost offended in which you just softly smiled, “Hey… I know how to invest my money.”

You added, “I'm sure they deserved it though, after hearing what happened in the exchange.”

“They did.” He smiled, you could almost picture it as a soft branded-dad smile.

It's like nothing was wrong, and everything was back to where it belonged, it felt like any other day where you would cuddle up in his arms and talk about the most random things.

The only difference right now is the distance between the two of you, to each had their side of the couch.

Your hands instinctively clutched the edges of the blanket that enveloped you, fingers intertwining with the fabric as Gojo's words hung in the air.

"I... They miss you," Gojo spoke, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of longing. "You should really pay them a visit."

The room held a heavy silence as you wrestled with the weight of his suggestion. Your gaze lingered on a distant point, somewhere between memories and the present.

Your lips parted as if to respond, but only silence spilled from them.

"Seriously... They talk about you all the time," Gojo continued, his words slicing through the quiet like a bittersweet melody.

"Who am I kidding? I miss them too," you finally admitted, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments. "...It's too painful."

“Do you plan on avoiding anything that has to do with me forever?”

“Ignoring it might make it go away, right?”

“Did it?”

You shifted uncomfortably as you held the half empty cup delicately between your hands. Your gaze remained fixated on it, as if searching for answers in the dwindling remnants of a forgotten brew. The room held a hushed stillness, punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards, bearing witness to the quiet struggle within.

You heard him speak your name, but this time, there was an intricate softness to his tone.

“I told you that I'll always be there for you. No matter what happens between us.” His soft voice resonated in the quiet living room.

“Avoiding me won't erase the memories we shared, the love we had,” Gojo's voice held a soothing quality, a hint of desperation laced within his words.

The love we had.

It's not supposed to hurt but it does, and the way he's saying it so effortlessly–

You looked at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, the alcohol dulling the ache in your chest. "It's not about erasing the memories, Gojo. It's about surviving without them." Your voice wavered as you struggled to maintain your composure.

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, broken only by the sound of the storm raging outside. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, the weight of your past relationship hanging heavily in the room.

“'Always' feels like a cruel deception when 'now' is so different from what we were," you murmured, the rawness of your emotions laid bare.

“I know things have changed, but that… doesn't mean that I don't care about you–”

You cut him off. “I can't–”

“Please–”

“I just need space! And no, I won't be hanging out with your students nor talk to you. You have to know that your support is a double edged sword.” Your grasp tightened against the mug yet he still persisted.

“You literally showed up to my doorstep drunk. You obviously needed someone."

“Key word, drunk. You think I came here on my own sober account? I even offered to go and save you from any trouble but you didn't let me.”–

“Yeah, drunk.– your words. If you thought for any second that I’d let you out there in this state in the middle of the night then you’re dead wrong.” His jaw clenched, leaning slightly forward to add, “Look– I just… want to be there for you. Regardless of our past, can't we find a way to coexist without it hurting so much?”

It's like he wasn't even listening –

“The mention of your damn name hurts, and the thought of being next to you while being nothing to you fucking haunts me! You think I'd voluntarily sign up to constant pain everyday because the strongest wants to be there for me? Don't make me laugh, I'm already having it hard as it is.”

The tension in the room just suffocatingly grew.

He retorted as his eyes narrowed, “You think it's easy for me? You think that I'm having a field day every fucking time they bring you up?”

"What I'm saying is that I just need to find a way to navigate through this mess, and constantly being reminded of us doesn't make it any easier for me either!” Your voice– once again, broke as you tried to state.

“We fight curses, we risk our lives everyday– we can't afford to feel like normal people.”

A heavy silence lingered in the room, broken only by the faint sound of raindrops outside. Then, abruptly, the rain ceased, leaving an unusual quiet between the two of you. The room, once filled with emotion, now held an eerie stillness, as if the universe itself paused to acknowledge the weight of your conversation.

Pausing, he ran a hand through his hair while softly muttering, “That's the main reason why we broke up.”

Your career was really destroying your life, huh?

For the third time, your tears were so adamant on breaking through.

“I should probably go.”

Did letting him go even do anything good to your life? You've been sulking around the entirety of your time ever since the two of you called it quits, so what exactly have you done this entire time? Drink away your feelings? Ignore your duties for something as trivial as a breakup?– worst of all, in the kind of career you pursue? Oh you weren't mad at him at this point, you were mad at yourself.

So mad at yourself that you can't move on from him–

All because he was… perfect, he always remembered your most important dates of the year, he always spoiled you with gifts, he always showered you with affection, he was always just there.

In every lingering stare, the gentle touch of a finger tracing down your jaw as you slept, the tender forehead kisses, the warm embrace that scooped you up from the ground after a long day of work, or the silent interludes you shared, he left an indelible mark.

No one has treated you with that much care in the world, and he was so clueless to that fact.

He was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of person; you'd bet on anything that you'd never encounter anyone quite like him again.

And now you were walking away from him.

You swiftly placed the porcelain mug on the coffee table, carefully removing the blanket he had given you. Standing on your feet as a cascade of cool air enveloped you.

“...Huh?” He watched you deftly pull out your phone in a matter of seconds, strands of your hair were still sticking to your forehead and your clothes were just as soaked, stubbornly clinging to your form.

This was ridiculous, going to your ex’s house in the middle of the night like it was some kind of K-drama? Embarrassing, now you'd really have to avoid him forever.

“I have a mission tomorrow anyway, and look, it stopped raining, I can just call in a cab and I’ll be gone.” The words, though matter-of-fact, carried a hint of something more.

“Wait–” You moved towards the door, your steps purposeful, as he stood up from the couch, a palpable urgency in his attempt to catch up to you.

Something had to be done.

When you reached for the door, you halted your movements, fingers lingering on the cool surface.

Something just had to be said.

"Satoru,”

This was probably the last time you'd allow yourself to be near him, why not let it all out? It's better than leaving with regrets over unsaid things…. Right?

Your heartbeat raced against your chest as you took a shuddering breath.

“Wanna know why it's so hard for me to move on?”

Your back was facing him, yet you could feel him keep a generous distance, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate moment unfolding. His gaze, though distant, seemed to pierce right through you.

Your hands turned into fists as you gulped.

“You’re… probably the best thing that happened to me,” the words hung heavy in the stifling silence.

"I'm not sure if I'll ever find someone like you, to be frank. Hell, even if there was someone like you, they'd never be you. I already miss everything – your jokes, your smile, your sweets addiction, your eyes, your everything, really…” A familiar glob formed within your throat as your tears started to threaten leaving the corner of your eyes, you sighed, adding, “I'll miss your silly addiction to collecting Digimon cards or… just waking up in your arms every morning.– gosh this hurts.”

The world seemed to have quieted down, as if the two of you were the last ones standing.

"Right now, I need to let go... even if it means losing the best part of me. As selfish as it is… I just… had to see you one last time." You turned around to meet his widened stare, helplessness glimmering within them. As you tried to smile one last time to the fresh blue of summer, the vulnerability in his gaze mirrored the ache in your heart. “I'll make sure to carry on with our memories, even the most painful ones.”

The way he looked at you was devastating you, he looked so helpless–

“I'll always choose you no matter what life we’re in…”

It's almost as if everything stopped.

“Thank you for everything, Satoru.”

Was this what you wanted? Cutting him off completely?

He can't.

He was going through it all over again, where his best friend left him not once, but twice. And now here you were, practically leaving him for the second time—after you had knocked on his door.

He can't go through all of this again, he already hated it just as much the moment he let you leave through this door for the first time.

The existence of the blue you had known off had become overwhelmingly intense.– Everything just skipped a few frames.

Because right now, you couldn't register what was actually happening, or when it exactly happened.

Your back pressed against the door, knees weakened, and your hands clenched onto the fabric of his shirt. Uncertainty hung in the air, a silent battle within you, unsure whether to pry him off or pull him closer. The tension between longing and restraint wove a delicate dance, and his lips practically left you no space nor time to speak.

“I can't let you go again.–” His hand was latched onto your throat to press you even more against him– as if he was trying to erase any distance from between the two of you once and for all, his lips were firm, smashing against yours as your breaths mingled, you could feel the warmth of his body radiate to ease your cold– soaked state. “W-wai Sator–.”

“I'm so sorry– I can't.”

“I missed you.” The tears that built up throughout the entire night finally trickled down the corner of your eyes.

“I missed you so damn much–”

He muttered a series of ‘I can’t.’ between his kisses and in your attempt to pull away for a breath, he only deepened the kiss, pressing his lips onto yours with a fervent passion. Your legs became entangled, the closeness reaching a point where the boundaries between you blurred. Your hands instinctively gripped his shirt, grounding yourself at the feeling of his tongue against yours.

You weren't sure if it was your tears or his that were rolling down your cheek at one point.

You should stop– but why was he kissing you? He started it.

He pulled away, his shaky hot breath lingering against your glistening cheek.

You locked eyes, both breathing heavily in the aftermath. His cheeks and ears glowed with a rosy hue and the corners of his mouth were swollen; you felt like it was your first kiss with him all over again.

Now you really understand why you never wanted to let him go.

You needed him.

He rested his head against your neck, his arms wrapping your waist while he muttered, “Sorry… I had to be a little selfish as well.”

It's like your mind went blank, unable to register the reality of this moment, unable to move or think.

You felt him tense against the lack of your response, only to further relax into you when you slowly brought your hands to his hair, one tangled to his soft strands, and the other brushing against his undercut. Your chin trembled as salty tears continued to pour down.

“you can't… just say all of that and expect me to let you go through this door.” Satoru uttered against your neck, his arms tightening around you, “not when you chose to come to me.”

“I missed you so much. too much– I thought I was losing my mind at one point. I even held onto an empty tea container because you gave it, then you showed up here after months of ignoring me– I thought I was dreaming, I tried to play it off like nothing was wrong even though everything was wrong. the amount of control you have on me is scary.” he sniffed and moved away from your neck, bringing his left hand to your cheek to wipe away a tear before softly kissing the wet trails left on your face. “Loving you is scary.”

“But I need you.” he left a delicate kiss on your eye.

And he needed you.

“ Please.”

“I would happily die of old age– as lame as it is for someone like me. Just if it meant growing up alongside you.” another kiss was left on the corner of your lips.

He pulled away, finally revealing the overwhelming softness in his eyes, his gaze looking at you and only you.

With that, the hands tangled onto his hair pushed him forward to meet your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss.

“We’re idiots,” you muttered against his lips.

He agreed, pressing a kiss on your chin, “We are.”

“We shouldn't have let each other go.” another kiss pressed against your jaw.

“Never.” and another on your neck, he paused.

“Be mine again? I'd make sure to never let you go again.”

“I never stopped being yours.” he smiled softly at your answer.

“For every life we might share together?”

“To the very last one.”

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #hurt/comfort #reader x character #gojo satoru x reader angst #gojo satoru x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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justporo · 7 months

Text

Senseless

Astarion, Staeve and the others barely survived their last big fight. Staeve can barely take the exhaustion which might or might not be amplified by how his local vampire has been regularly feeding on him. He desperately tries to push through... And Astarion has a few things to say about that.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This will be quite long, so... sorry! But I have a few things to add about this. First of all, I dedicate this piece of writing to the lovely @velnna - creator of the legendary Staeve and incredible artist! (Check him out if you don't know him already, I will say it again) This story is a continuation to "Bloodless". Back during writing that I already imagined Staeve being the Tav in that story (but didn't officially make it so). Back then I was waaay to too scared to tag velnna - but: I recently found out (well, he told me himself- and very kindly), that he indeed found it, read it - and liked it! (I was in shock...) And so I immediately thought that I would have to write an actual Staeve x Astarion piece for him. So here we are! @velnna, thank you so much for your kind words - I will be thinking of this and be motivated by it for a long time! And thank you also for all the amazing art you provide this community with! It's written from the usual second person POV - but it's STAEVE!

Pairing: Astarion/Staeve (You, male reader) Warnings: none, but major Act 2 spoilers so it will fully remain below the cut Wordcount: 3,5k ~~~

Barely, just barely had you all made it out of this godsdamned mausoleum alive. And after slaying a demon, oh, some other folks too, completing the Gauntlet of Shar, and a trip to the Shadowfell, you felt positively exhausted. And you felt that it was rightfully earned. Especially knowing that you wouldn’t get much rest before you were taking on an even bigger threat.

No rest for the wicked, it seemed – even though you weren’t entirely sure if that meant you or your foes.

You’d been pretty much exhausted even before you had entered the mausoleum and then what lay beneath (and before a certain devil had made it even worse). All because a certain vampire had to be kept fed and happy. Not that you were complaining about it though.

The two of you had your disagreements about it. Especially since you had already ended up in the dirt once because you might’ve been just a tad too eager about offering your neck to the vampire. You had both agreed to take it a bit slower after that - at least with the whole feeding thing.

Although you had still felt like it hadn’t been that much of a deal, the vampire had kept hissing at you to not be so desperate, as he called it. You would have called it: being way too stubborn to accept some godsdamned help.

And that is what had become of you both: two idiots, not really being able to admit to each other how deeply you actually cared for the other. Until just recently.

But even with that - it still meant you were both very much on uncharted territory. And putting feelings into words after such a long time of just trying to suppress them was by far not an easy feat to achieve.

And then, when you had entered the Shadowlands with barely anything alive in it – what else could you have done but to offer yourself up again? Astarion’s survival instincts had kicked in once more and so had your urge to provide – for as long as you were able to be there for him.

On top of that, the moments of tenderness that always followed, holding each other, kissing each other, deeply, – and before a certain night not long ago, often more – had done their fair share of consoling you about just a little blood loss. Barely anything couldn’t be forgotten as long as you were laying in the arms of someone you wanted to just keep holding onto – right?

But as much as you tried to ignore it: you still felt it. Felt how the generous donations to your local vampire tended to make you a little sluggish. Maybe it was even a bit more than just a little. More than once causing you to only make a critical dodge or lift your blade to parry in the last possible moment. Your A game definitely looked different.

But then again: did you want to be responsible for Astarion’s waning strength when it was so easy to just saunter over to him in the evening? Talk to him, get him to throw some of his sultry lines at you, cheesing your way to the same moment almost every night where you deliberately offered the vampire to feed on you. And he always accepted in the end.

It had become a well practised dance between the two of you over the past time spent in these godsforsaken lands. And so it had been in like about you trying to hide the effects all of this had on your constitution

So, when you had come out of the damned crypt – alive, even if only by a hair – your first order had been to lie down. Just right in front of the stone arch. Right in the dirt.

“Gods above and below”, you whispered, letting out a sigh and spreading out all of your limbs.

As soon as you made contact with the ground you knew it would be next to impossible to get up again in the near future. So, you settled for getting cosy with what you got. Which meant wiggling around until you found a somewhat comfortable position where the sword on your back wouldn’t press too much into your back.

“Gods, Staeve, you couldn’t wait ten seconds?”, Shadowheart scoffed and made a big step over one of your stretched out limbs – too stubborn to actually find a way around you. Incredible, how she still had the energy to be sassy after everything that must be weighing on her mind now. But then again, you really couldn’t blame her for deflecting with a generous amount of sarcasm.

“Ten seconds? What difference would that have made, eh?”, you answered her.

You lifted your head up a little. “I’d just be lying over there then”, you continued and weakly pointed down the path a bit.

The cleric just rolled her eyes at you and groaned at you again as the rest of the companions left the dusty old place as well. All of you blood covered and feeling exhaustion down to your bones.

You closed your eyes as you felt the fatigue grab almost complete hold of you. Meanwhile you heard how some of the others settled down around you. Halsin, who’d been lightly injured in the fight, winced as he sat down.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of it and lifting your head up again, you looked at him. But the druid just smiled and waved you off - no big deal, thankfully. So you let your head sink to the ground again, eyes shutting with a sigh. You barely had it in you to stay awake right this moment.

Your limbs felt heavy as lead, and you felt the drag on your eyelids. Meanwhile your pulse was still thrumming in your chest and your ears. A nervous rhythm that threatened to become the only thing baring you from drifting off to blissful and much needed sleep.

You were well aware that this kind of exhaustion wasn’t normal - even with everything you and the others had gone through. It had slowly become more and more - up to where you were now lying in the dirt, not sure if you would make it to camp tonight. Might be you were kind of in a pickle - but best not to dwell on it.

Next time you opened your eyes was when you heard some rustling quite near to you. It was Astarion, kneeling next to you. He was giving you one of his judgemental glances with a raised eyebrow, red eyes piercing as ever.

“Oh, hi love”, you said and grinned, tiredly wiggling your eyebrows at him. The vampire didn’t even acknowledge you - except for his eyebrow rising still a bit higher.

“So”, he drawled, an edge to his voice you couldn’t fully place, “are we getting up or do we have to carry you, love.” He made a little dramatic pause before he sarcastically spat out the last word.

You slapped your hand to your armoured chest with some effort and made a face that hopefully conveyed how hurt you felt by his implied accusation.

Astarion didn’t give a shit about your histrionics.

So you decided for a comeback.

“My friend, you aren’t carrying anyone, anywhere at any time in the near future”, you replied dryly. You heard Karlach snicker somewhere behind you. At least you’d gotten someone’s approval. The vampire gave the tiefling a death glare, then his ruby gaze wandered back to you.

And then it kept lingering on you. Something in the vampire’s eyes had changed and it was beginning to startle you.

And well - usually by now he should have taken up the banter with you again. Could it be, he was actually worried? Like really, actually worried?

“Look”, you said and used some of the little power you had left in your body to push up to a position that was at least somewhat close to sitting up. Immediately you started to feel dizzy.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all. We all are, aren’t we?”, you continued as you desperately tried to not let it be known how much your surroundings were spinning around you at the moment.

Quite obviously you were doing a terrible job at that because there was now open worry on Astarion’s face. Even the usual sharp edge of teasing in his voice had been dulled down by now: “And you want to take on Ketheric Thorm tomorrow? And all his thugs? Like this?”

You were definitely getting a little annoyed at him now. The others had gone dead silent. They must’ve been feeling too that this situation might be about to go sideways. You didn’t care.

And as much as you felt him tug on your heartstrings with the sad round puppy eyes he offered you now - did he have to make it so public? You were just not having it.

Using every last ounce of energy that you still had within you, you made to stand up. Astarion’s eyes widened some more and he cautiously stood up as well. His brows were furrowed now.

You gathered your legs beneath you with quite some effort. The world around you was really rushing past you now, but you were determined to bite through it. Then you pushed up to a standing position - straightening your back for extra effect and pointing a very passive-aggressive finger at your vampire.

“I’ll have you know tha-”, you began in a sassy tone.

But then no one would ever find out what you would have wanted to let them know. Because your vision blackened rapidly, closing in from the edges and you already felt the strange sensation of toppling over. Gravity inevitably pulling you back to the ground you had just stood up from.

The last thing you felt were arms that caught you under the armpits, with quite some effort. You heard strained groans and a hissed “idiot” very close to your ear. Then you passed out completely.

~~~

You woke up in dire confusion about where you were and how you’d gotten there. You lifted up your torso and blinked profusely to try and clear your vision. You also immediately reached for a dagger that would have usually been at your side. But you were also out of your armour it seemed. Oh, and laying on some pillows? A blanket draped over you?

You closed your eyes again and pressed the balls of your hands to your eyes. And you groaned as you felt a headache creep up on you now that you had woken up.

Since there seemed to be no imminent dangers around you sunk back onto the pillows. You realised that your shirt had been taken off as well. Pain thrummed through your skull.

Your hands dropped from your face, your vision cleared more and more and you realised that you were laying in someone else’s tent. And as you took a closer look at the ceiling of the tent, your brows furrowed. Because you very well knew which tent it was you were laying in. You’ve had your fair share of staring up at this very particular fabric from this very particular spot.

Your head popped up again from the pillows. And you found Astarion sitting at your feet, in his camp clothes. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, arms folded over his chest and very much glowering at you. His red eyes were basically boring into you.

“Oh, are we awake again? Back from the land of the dead, hm? Rise and shine then, my love, since you seemed so eager to do so earlier!”, the vampire immediately went into a tirade.

“You’re not even going to give me a few more moments to just really wake up?”, you replied flatly. But you could already feel his words evoking shame within you. You rubbed one of your eyes once more, trying to look innocent.

The vampire kept fuming: “Were you planning on telling me how much the blood loss affected you again?”

“No.”

Astarion obviously could barely believe your audacity as well as your honesty by the way his eyes first widened and then narrowed even more at you. But he kept silent.

“Were you planning on stopping to take my offered blood?”, you posed in return when there was no further reaction coming from Astarion.

You regretted the words as soon as they had left your tongue. Knowing it was a cheap shot because this was still very much you insisting on being the one to take care of his needs. And also hiding the negative side effects.

You immediately felt the twinge of guilt as you saw how Astarion’s eyes couldn’t help but stray from yours as he registered your words. Your headache accordingly sent a bolt of pain through your skull, making you groan.

You closed your eyes in desperation for a second, trying to swallow down the thought that you had just put this guilt onto him. Blaming him for his basic needs of survival even if you hadn’t meant it like that at all.

As you compulsively tried to think of something to say, you heard the vampire speak again: “Well, as much as I enjoy you falling for me. Maybe you could try and… avoid it next time.”

Your throat closed up. Immediately, the double meaning very much wasn’t lost on you.

And not only did you instantly recognise the tone of him deflecting with something harsh and sarcastic but you could also almost see how his old and very much practised mask slipped back in its place.

You felt how the whole situation was slipping from your fingers. Desperate to do something about it, you got up from the still half-lying position you were in and crawled over to where the vampire was now looking at you with trained indifference.

Your chest ached, just having to look at it. Especially since you had only recently made such a leap with him finally allowing you in more. Astarion finally allowing for some of the carefully put up fortress walls to crumble under your soft touch.

Back, when his somewhat cautious confession had made you swear to yourself that you wouldn’t stop until all of the wretched, cascading layers of armour the vampire had put up around his core would have been disassembled.

Now you felt you might be responsible for some of those layers being put back into place. Even if it had just been a very short moment, a dumb slip of the tongue. You hoped it wasn’t too late yet to undo the damage.

You drew your arms around your lover - slowly, cautiously. Posing the question if you were still allowed to do that.

The vampire let it happen.

A tiny fraction of your tension eased at the thought that there might still be hope to rectify the delicate thing you had basically just stepped on. That he would allow you to make it right.

“I’m sorry, Astarion”, you whispered silently. Almost too quiet to form actual words. But the pale elf in your arms heard you anyway. He didn’t look up at you but he did sink into your arms a little more.

“I’m sorry for what I said and for how I acted. I didn’t mean to blame you for anything.”, you said again, this time more confidently.

There was no further acknowledgement of your apology other than the vampire slowly leaning his head against your naked chest. His soft hair brushed lightly over your bare skin. Even the lightest touches of him in your arms sent jolts through your entire body.

But the knot between you was not yet unravelled.

Fear threatened to close up your throat again as your mind raced, feverishly trying to think of a way to make him understand that it was just… he meant everything to you. That you’d rather crawl in the dirt yourself instead of having to watch him do it.

That you so desperately cared about him. Why couldn’t he see that?

And then another thought crossed your mind. Concerning the battle you would have to take on tomorrow.

What if this was the last chance you would ever get to convey this to him? The last shot at convincing him that he was very much loved and cared for and had a place in this world as long as you walked this planet.

Carefully you raised your hand to under Astarion’s chin and nudged softly to see if he would allow you to lift up his head to make him meet your gaze. Again, he let it happen.

The vampire’s eyes found yours. Instantly, something in his gaze changed as he must’ve seen something particular in them. You tenderly and cautiously cupped his cheek as your lips parted. But it still took another moment before you managed to find the words.

“Astarion, if tomorrow… would be the end. I-”, you broke off. Then took another breath before you continued.

“I would hate myself if this is how I left things. I wouldn’t want to have caused you to think that I was just brushing you off for caring for me. Or that I put any blame on you when I was being a reckless idiot. But I still would want you to understand that I just… I’m doing this because I want you to be safe and happy and careless and free and… with me, if you want that.”

Astarion’s eyes ever so slightly widened and opened up as you spoke. A nearly inaudible gasp left his throat.

After you had ended your little speech, the moment of the two of you looking into each other’s eyes just went on. But the mood had changed now. The way Astarion looked at you as you softly let your thumb wander over his cheekbone was no longer distant. He was still allowing you in, if cautiously so.

Your gaze dropped to his lips as your thumb kept wandering over the vampire’s delicate skin.

Then you leaned in just a little - letting him decide if he wanted to bridge the gap between you. And he did so without hesitation.

Astarion met your parted lips with his. You gladly accepted his open-mouthed kiss.

The rest of the words that yet remained unspoken between you were resolved this way. By kissing deeply and assuring the other of what you could not yet put into words.

The vampire’s hand grabbed onto your upper arm, fingertips lightly grazing your biceps. You let your hand wander from his cheek into his soft white curls, your fingertips softly tugging and teasing them.

And you were still doing that when you slowly withdrew from him - if only enough to speak.

“I was a dick, Astarion, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you were. Now, I thought we had just established that. Don’t try and draw it out to make me sappy, Staeve darling, or I might actually take back what I said the other night”, Astarion replied with an edge of sarcasm entering his voice again.

But you knew that it was the good-humoured kind once more. The one he used when you two bickered like an old married couple.

“Don’t promise what you can’t keep”, you offered back with a smug grin. The vampire rolled his eyes at you. Your grin just grew.

“Come, just lie down with me, please”, you proposed to your vampire. Now that adrenaline and stress were slowly leaving your body you felt exhaustion creep up on you again. The headache you had completely forgotten to acknowledge somewhere in between also letting itself be known again.

Astarion immediately took you up on it and you laid down on the bedroll, snuggling up to each other until your limbs were fully tangled, bodies fully wrapped around each other. You gazed upon the vampire in your arms - how much his pale skin contrasted against yours.

You slowly felt how the tension left both your bodies, shoulders dropping, jaws unclenching. Revelling in relief and joy you closed your eyes and focused solely on how it felt to hold Astarion. Just silently laying there, enjoying this moment of peace.

Until you broke the silence once more because a random thought had just crossed your mind.

“Wait, who actually carried me all the way back to camp?”

Astarion scrambled to push himself up once more and gave you a glare. “Really? That’s what’s on your mind right now?”

You shrugged: “I guess.”

The vampire’s glare became even more intense. Then it snapped to mischievous glint really quickly. He let one of his hands drag through his hair dramatically and sensually and said: “Oh, darling, couldn’t you believe that I valiantly carried you here like the knight in shiny armour that I am?” You wouldn’t even have believed him being able to pull you here with your face dragging through the dirt.

“It was Halsin, wasn’t it?”

You received another death glare. Then Astarion just sighed in defeat and wrapped himself in your arms again.

“Yes it was. I was the one who undressed you though.”

“Of course you were”, you replied with a wolfish grin although Astarion couldn’t see it. The vampire groaned in annoyance

“Now, if you please, let me enjoy this moment in peace, you idiot.”

And so you did. Holding onto Astarion as he held onto you. Both silently smiling and not even that afraid anymore of what tomorrow might bring.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 companions #staeve #astarion x staeve

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hexed-padlock · 8 months

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Still super obsessed with the idea of Tav being part of the og party that killed Strahd and they just… dont mention it. At all.

Like, you’ve got:

Gale: Archmage of Waterdeep, wizarding prodigy, Chosen of Mystra herself

Karlach: frontliner of the Blood War and escapee from Avernus

Wyll: The Blade of Frontiers and son of Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard

Astarion: Vampire spawn of Cazador Szarr, and former magistrate

Shadowheart: Priestess of Shar, Lady of Loss

Lae’zel: Githyanki warrior and proud servant of Vlaakith

And my Tav’s canon: Slayer of the Dread Lord Strahd von Zarovich, currently trying to find a way to bring it up to the party and is 100% awkward about it because they died *after* killing Strahd and only because they tripped off a cliff and their old party thought it’d be funny to cast Reincarnate instead of Revivify.

The story everyone knows is that (Tav) died in the fight against Strahd as a “final heroic sacrifice for the greater good.” When in reality, they’re too embarrassed to correct anyone so they’ve picked a new name and literally made a deal with Neferon or Exethanter for completely different magic to what they used to wield and now they’re committed to the disguise/new life/fake backstory of being tricked into a Warlock pact. At this point, they’re neckdeep in this awkward situation where everyone believes they died a hero’s death, their old party is kinda just laughing about everything, and their BG3 party is completely oblivious.

Astarion: “It’s near impossible to kill a true vampire lord. Cazador is almost unbeatable.”

Tav the Strahd Slayer: “…I see.”

—————————————

Upon request, I’ve decided to start a short fic series of reveals—all just drabbles and oneshots since I’m not used to writing anymore.

Below will be a masterlist of the different posts once I begin with them.

“Do the Cattle not know you?” - Facing Cazador (Serious, Sassy Tav)

“A New Type of Vampire” - Raphael discusses the Ascension ritual and Tav remembers a similar story (Flashbacks, Traumatized Tav)

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whaledenwtf · 6 months

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Gale Dekarios X Sorcerer!Reader - Spin the Bottle

The Gale girlies of tiktok got their clutches in me and I want him. I already had my hands full with wanting Astarion AND Halsin but now Gale too? I can't believe I've dedicated so much time to PIXELS. Anyways, here's some wizard sex. :)

AO3 LINK: Here Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: Here

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Body Worship ( Female Receiving), Creampie, Oral (Female Receiving), Misuse of the Mage Hand Cantrip (oh yeah), Praise Kink, Spin the Bottle Trope, Angst too!!! Sorry

I try to keep Gale as close to his character as possible but the idea of even entertaining Mystra in the fic for more than half a moment fills me with anger. So I try to only bring her up during the angst.

WORD COUNT: 5325

The last few days... weeks? Have been awful. Ever since you met all your companions in the wreckage of the nautiloid ship (and evidently, the wreckage of any normalcy) you've spent every day exploring the Sword Coast looking for answers and seeking guidance on how to rid yourselves of the tadpole. During the day, the heat is cooled by the breeze of the ocean, but nothing can quell the stress of the band of misfits you find yourself surrounded by.

"We should head to the cre'che. You may be too far gone, too weak, but I need the guidance of Queen Vlaakith." A chorus of groans echo Lae'zel's words.

"All offense, but I do not want a githyanki prodding in my skull." Shadowheart tells her annoyed. You roll your eyes, bracing yourself for the oncoming fight. You've been around them long enough to know that the daily Lae'zel and Shadowheart fight will have to be broken up by you, again. Lae'zel unsheathes her sword and points it towards Shadowheart.

"Just because you are a k'chakhi, doesn't mean (Y/N) can't understand reason." You look around and see everyone look annoyed. Well, almost everyone. Astarion always watches the fights with glee, bright smiles and wicked intentions.

"Excuse me? What did you just call me? I'll make sure Shar punishes you greatly." Shadowheart pulls out her mace. You can already tell this will get bloody. You walk in between them and put your arms out.

"Enough. For gods sake, both of you need to relax. You're both acting unreasonable." You cringe the moment you say those words.

"Unreasonable?!" They both respond, aiming their weapons at you. You roll your eyes, pulling out your staff.

"Point those weapons at me again and I'll make sure to cast a Hold Person so well you'll be stuck here until you transform." Everyone's mouths drop open at your words. You were a sorcerer, usually kind tempered, or you'd like to think so. This has been the tenth time you had to break up a fight between the two in the last three days. It was sickening, and you were at your wits' end. Astarion giggles with glee, clapping his hands at your words. You point your staff at him too.

"I'll cast it on you too-" He pouts at your words, no longer finding the threat fun when it's directed towards him. "Now all of you shut the hells up so we can go find more answers on what to do. No more fighting." Everyone nods silently. You exhale loudly and smile.

"Now let's go." Lae'zel scoffs, sheathing her weapon and bumping Shadowhearts shoulder as she walks past. You turn away and lead the group forward, going towards the Goblin Camp that is holding Arch Druid Halsin captive; the druids in the grove said he may have information on your tadpoles.

"I'm afraid that I cannot heal you. These tadpoles are different, and have magic that even someone as experienced as I cannot remove them." Halsin tells you sadly. The group groans at the tall elf's words. After completely eradicating all the goblins and other beasts in the camp, Halsin is still unable to help.

"However, I was able to track that they are coming from the Shadow Cursed lands, and may be tied to the Moonrise Towers." This was news! Not as good as you were hoping, but its a lead! A start to an otherwise longer journey.

"I appreciate you trying Halsin. Thank you." You tell him quietly. He nods, his hand on your shoulder.

"I should be the one thanking you. You have freed me and explained what Kagha was planning to do to the Emerald Grove-" Astarion cuts off the Druid.

"Yes yes, we get it. We helped. Seems like we did it for no reason." Without turning your gaze away from Halsin, you wack him with your staff. After a loud thump and Astarion's "ow", you smile at the elf.

"No need to thank me, Halsin. Your information will guide us onward." He nods, frowning for a moment.

"Once I get back from ending the Rite of Thorns, I will meet you at your camp and join you on your journey. I hate to ask more of you, but I need assistance with eradicating the Shadow Curse."

"More help?!" Astarion exclaims. You turn around, ready to strike again, but Gale beats you to it. He does you a solid and wacks him upside his head with a large tome. Astarion flinches, complaining about his hair. You smile at Gale in thanks, who winks in response to you before you turn back to Halsin, blushing.

"I'm sure in ridding the curse we may find more information about the parasites." Halsin engulfs you in a hug, and you laugh patting his back.

"Thank you, little one. I will trek to the Grove now. You are more than welcome to join me." You turn to look at all your companions, some of which seem eager to go back to the Grove.

"I think we should, just incase a rampant goblin attacks you again." Halsin chuckles, before letting go of you.

"Then let us make haste."

At the Grove, you watch as Halsin berates Kagha. Afterwards you see Zevlor run up to you.

"We must thank you (Y/N)! We gathered all our gold so we can give you something for your troubles." You watch as the man pulls out a small pouch, filled with everyone's gold. You felt pity, as the need to do good outweighed any reward, especially one so small. You knew taking their gold would leave them only with the clothes on their backs, and the supplies they had.

"Oh Zevlor, I cannot take this from you. Keep it for Baldur's Gate. We are just grateful we were able to help in time." He shakes his head.

"At least let us thank you. We can celebrate at your camp and share our wine and food with you." You ponder this.

"Something to destress may be necessary, lest we hear Lae'zel and Shadowheart fight again." Gale whispers in your ear. Your breath hitches. Ever since you pulled Gale of Waterdeep from the collapsing portal, you've been smitten. Despite his very human nature, his soft brown eyes, beautiful features and prose had caught your attention. He was gorgeous, and your heart yearned for him, mind, body and soul.

"If I have to hear the word cre'che one more time I might gauge my eyes out." You whisper back. He chuckles, the sound warm and it shoots straight to your core. You make your decision.

"I think a celebration with some wine, food and good company would be a great reprise from all the stress. We'll see you at sundown." The group cheers, excited for some wine and relaxation. This seems like the first decision everyone agreed with. You smile at them as Zevlor walks away, telling the tieflings about the celebration.

You were already drunk off the vinegar-like wine, teetering on the edge of consciousness and depravity. You see all your companions scattered across the camp; some entertaining the company of the tieflings, others drinking on their lonesome. This won't do! Your drunk mind exclaims. Before you could act on it, Astarion walks up to you, smirking.

"Well, hello to you sweetheart." You blush at his forwardness. It seems everyday you spend together he gets more bold in his words and touches, but he isn't Gale.

"H-hello Astarion." You tell him, stuttering from your inebriated state. His cold hand meets your arm, and you startle, sobering up momentarily.

"Just a hello? I was hoping for a better form of greeting." You roll your eyes at his theatrics.

"And what would that form of greeting be, my beloved?" You ask him sarcastically. He grins, his fangs glistening in the lowlight of the campfire and lanterns scattered about.

"Perhaps a kiss? Maybe a night, with yours truly? I can make you feel things no man has ever made you feel before~" He grabs your waist and pulls you close.

"No things a man has made me feel before? That's cute, but won't work on me." You tell him, slapping the side of his face as though he were a child.

"Won't work? Darling, it's true! I will make you crave my touch~" He whispers to you. You laugh in his face, and he frowns at your response.

"You should go into comedy with such jokes!" He lets go of you and pouts.

"You're no fun." You smirk at his words.

"Oh I'm plenty of fun. You're just not my type." He is taken aback.

"I'm everyone's type, sweetheart. You're just lying to yourself- or your standards are quite low." You really can't entertain his theatrics any longer, your eyes already looking around for Gale.

"Alright Astarion. As lovely as this conversation was, I've got to go." You pull away from him, spotting the wizard near his tent, a glass of wine in one hand and tome in the other. You rush towards him, before your journey is cut off by Karlach.

"H-hey soldier!" You smile at the tiefling.

"Hi Karlach. Are you enjoying yourself?" She nods, her body swaying.

"Of course! Between my engine sort-of working for now, and the booze, I'm on cloud nine!" She tells you, spinning in place. You giggle at her theatrics, before stabilizing her when she gets too dizzy.

"I was thinking of playing spin the bottle! Now that I can't burn people it would be fun to play-" She gives you puppy dog eyes. You feel bad for Karlach, you really do. A victim to Zariel, and now to her infernal engine, you can tell she just wants to be hugged and loved. You hug her, grinning. She grips you back tightly, sighing into your arms.

"Let's gather the others! Can't wait for the inevitable Lae'zel and Shadowheart kiss." You both laugh. You let go of each other and rally the others. You manage to get Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion to join you near the campfire. Even Halsin decides to join, after you ask him sweetly. You're all sitting in a circle, with Halsin to your left and Astarion on your right. Gale is sitting directly infront of you, and you catch his gaze more than once. You decide that if anyone asks, the blush is not from the handsome wizard, but the booze. Yeah that'll work, you think to yourself.

"Can't wait to kiss you, sweetheart." Astarion tells you. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of a new bottle of wine.

"Get in line, fangs." Karlach tells him, smirking at you. You laugh at her words.

"Alright, alright. Let's get to kissing!" You smirk at everyone. After a minute of downing the bottle in your hand, you empty it and put it in the center of the circle.

"Now that little alchy finished drinking, who wants to spin first?" Astarion speaks up, smirking at your companions. With enthusiasm, Karlach shouts.

"ME ME ME!" You chuckle at her reaction, and give her the go-ahead. You watch her buzzing in her seat as she spins the bottle. It does one, two, three spins before landing on Wyll. They look at eachother, eyes wide.

"Oh shit-" Karlach whispers. The whole circle starts chanting, and after a minute of tense stillness they kiss. You all cheer, laughing and smiling. Then they don't let go, still kissing. The cheering gets louder,

"Oh gods, split it up." Astarion says, fake gagging. They split, gasping. Both of them are blushing, and you smirk.

"Had fun?" You tease them. They look away from each other, realizing the implications of their kiss.

"Alright, now Wyll's gotta spin!" You tell them, grinning. Wyll shuffles closer to the bottle, watching it spin until it lands on Halsin. You gasp, before cheering. Their kiss was quick, but you could tell Halsin was in control. He chuckles as they part, and Wyll sits back down. Halsin spins the bottle, and it spins for a solid ten seconds until it lands on Shadowheart.

"Now this will be interesting." Astarion whispers into your ear. You giggle into your hand, nodding. Your eyes split from Halsin and Shadowheart to see Gale watching you and Astarion's closeness with a frown. Before you could give him a look, you hear cheering. Your eyes glance back at Halsin, who pulls Shadowheart onto his lap and grips her tightly as they are kissing. Your eyes widen, lips parting.

"Oh." After a minute, they split, panting. Shadowheart stands from his lap, her legs left unstable from the powerful kiss. She fans herself for a second before spinning the bottle. It barely does a full turn before it lands on Lae'zel. You start laughing loudly.

"Absolutely not." She says loudly, already reaching for the bottle.

"Hey! No respins!" Karlach says, eyebrows furrowed. Shadowheart huffs. Lae'zel hasn't spoken up, just watching Shadowheart's plight with a grin.

"Fine. But watch yourself, githyanki. I will not hesitate to end you if there's any funny business." Lae'zel rolls her eyes, before pulling Shadowheart into a passionate kiss. Everyone's jaws drop as they kiss, all their verbal fights (and some physical, mind you) seemingly have turned into sexual tension. Lae'zel pulls Shadowheart into her, before pushing her under her. After hearing someone moan, you decide to cut it out.

"Okay, stop! Holy hells, if you're gonna do that do it in the privacy of your own damn tent." You tell them, grimacing at the sounds coming from them. Without a word, Lae'zel picks up Shadowheart and walks away from the circle. You guffaw, before turning back to the other companions, eyes wide.

"Um-" Astarion cuts you off, smirking.

"Alright! Since they left its my turn!" He claps, before spinning the bottle. It lands on you, and you groan.

"Come here, sweetheart." He whispers. As he closes his eyes, you give him a quick peck and turn away before he could wonder what happened.

"That was hardly a kiss!" He shouts, crossing his arms.

"Oh, boo hoo Astarion." You tell him, laughing. You spin the bottle. It does one, two, three, four turns, before it lands on the object of your attentions. Gale's eyes widen, and he freezes up.

"Pucker up wizard, it'll be done before you know it." Astarion sulks from beside you. You crawl towards him, blush deepening. When you get into his personal space, you sit down on your haunches and get comfortable. His hand goes to the side of your face, while the other goes to your waist. Your arms wrap around his neck and you meet in the middle.

This kiss was unlike any other you had in your life. The world around you disappeared, sounds muffled. All you could feel was Gale and his magical essence. You became tuned to one another, magic flowing freely between you both. His hands move around, the one on your hip going to the small of your back and pulling you closer, as the one that was holding your face goes to the back of your neck to hold you to him. Your lips open when his tongue traces the seam of your lips. Your tongues battle for dominance, and you moan into his mouth. That seems to snap him out of the trance, and he separates from you. You can see his deep blush, and he gets up and runs off. Your eyes follow him, and you furrow your brows.

"If he ran away because of your kissing skills, maybe I should be grateful you only gave me a peck." Astarion says. Your eyes snap back to his.

"My kissing isn't the problem. I'll go check on him." You get up, dusting the dirt off your legs and walking towards his tent. When you turn around, to glance at your companions, you see Karlach and Wyll cheering on Astarion and Halsin as they kiss. You roll your eyes and look forward, going into a jog so you could reach Gale's tent sooner.

When you get to his tent, you cough outside so he can hear you. You hear him mutter a "come in" so you enter slowly. When you enter his tent, your eyes widen. Its larger on the inside, and looks homely. There are towers of tomes and books, some old and some new, and your eyes are taking in the beauty of the bigger-on-the-inside tent that reflects Gale's personality. When your eyes stop wandering, you notice Gale sitting on the edge of his large bed, hands holding his head as he sits dejected.

"I wanted to check in on you." You tell him quietly, walking closer to him. He sighs, and looks up at you.

"I'm sorry-" You reach him in two short strides, and kneel so you are below him. His eyes follow your movements, and you see the sorrow and sadness lurking in his beautiful brown eyes.

"You never need to apologize to me Gale. Are you okay?" You ask him softly. He sighs again, frowning.

"I'm not." He says quietly. You know he's upset, by the succinctness of his words.

"You can always tell me what's wrong. You know I care about you-all of you." You save yourself at the last moment. Now's probably not the time to admit your feelings, especially when he doesn't seem receptive to your advances.

"I'm just-" He exhales loudly. "You're not the issue here, (Y/N). I am. Everything I have done, everything I do, was for her. Now I feel lost, between the bomb inside my chest and the tadpole in my head, I feel as though I have no control over anything." Your hands gently takes one of his, holding him softly.

"You are the most talented wizard I have ever met, Gale of Waterdeep. You have control over everything, more than most of us." He shakes his head, eyes getting misty.

"You're wrong, you know. I have lost favour with my goddess, and have lost control over my emotions it seems. I just ran away from you and you still check in on me. Gale's Folly, I once named my demise. But it seems everything I do adds to my torment, and it affects others." You go to deny him but he cuts you off. He turns to the side, looking in the distance.

"I have always known my purpose, since I was young. Hone my powers, control the weave. Serve my goddess. The universe that was once kind to me has turned against me, against my reverence for Mystra. I was cursed, am cursed. In the deepest darkest shadows of my folly, I met you. A sorcerer who I respect and admire greatly. Now I am destined to lose that too-" You grip his hand tightly.

"You have not lost me yet, Gale." You whisper gently to him. His face snaps back to yours, his eyes searching yours for the truth. All he sees is your honesty and admiration.

"I do not deserve you." He whispers, shedding a tear. You wipe the tear away, holding his face.

"It is I who does not deserve you, Gale. You've been hurt, badly. I would never expect anything from you more than what you are ready to tell me. You must know how important you are to us, to me." He looks down at his lap, pondering.

"I've always felt the need to do anything to serve Mystra. Even sacrifice the deepest parts of myself for her, if she had asked. Many times, she had. But you; you ask nothing more from me. You give without taking, and I don't understand how you think I am deserving of your kindness." He whispers.

"Gale. You are magnificent. I care about you, more than I care for the others. Ever since I pulled you out of that portal I knew that you'd be someone I'd care for. Since then, all I've done is fallen more for you. You don't need to reciprocate any feelings, but you have to know how much someone cares for you- I care for you. You are worth much more than Mystra has ever given you credit for." His eyes snap back to yours, widening at your words.

"I did not realize-" You cut him off gently, the hand on his face squeezing slightly.

"I was afraid to say anything. I understand your trepidation regarding your situation. If I was in your position I would have given up long ago. But please, please do not think for a moment you are not worthy of love. You are kind, good of heart and deserving of more than most of us in camp." He pulls you into a hug. Your arms find themselves around him, squeezing him tightly. Your head finds itself in the crevice of his neck, inhaling his scent of old books and hazelnut; a scent you could only describe as Gale.

"I'm sorry. I do care about you, deeply. I have not felt such a way since Mystra, but sitting here with you now, I have never felt such acceptance and understanding. I'm afraid of what darkness the future holds, but it does not seem as dim if you are there with me." He tells you into your ear. You sigh, nudging your nose deeper into his neck. You leave a soft kiss on the side of his neck before pulling away.

"I'll help you rid yourself of the Netherese Orb, and then the parasite. You are not alone." His hands grip the sides of your face.

"I can never feel alone when I'm with you." He pulls you into a kiss, and the adoration he feels for you translates in the movement of his lips. You kiss him softly, before pulling away.

"I do not want to take advantage of you when you are feeling so low." You gaze at him, admiring his looks. His eyes, long dried from the tears, shine in the light of his tent.

"I want to be here with you. No advantages are being taken. Please-" He pleads, begging for you. You bite your lip, and his eyes follow the action. He rushes forward, sliding off the side of the bed and kneels in front of you. He pulls you into a kiss, desperation and need coursing through his blood. You moan against his soft lips, all worries and fears dissipating into the night air. He pulls away from you, panting.

"Those sounds... You're entire being... No magic can compare to your beauty." He whispers, his breath fanning against your lips. You blush under his gaze and words, unable to reply.

"I want to show you my love the way gods do, please let me." He tells you against your lips, kissing you again. Your hands cradle his neck, thumbs trailing up and down the column. You pull away again, shaking your head.

"I don't need magic, or gods. Not when I have you right here infront of me." He pulls away, a deep blush on his face. You notice that it goes down his neck, reaching his chest; as well as the tips of his ears, which are also tinged crimson at your words.

"Are you sure? I can make you feel things, see things.... experience things beyond your wildest imaginations-" You cut him off, pouting.

"You already make me feel those things, Gale. Can't I have the man in front of me? I am no goddess, and you needn't seek my approval. You already have it." He nods, before taking your hands and pushing you forward so you're laying against the floor. His fingers link with yours and pull them above your head. You're panting, breasts heaving and grazing his own chest. His gaze trails from your features down to your neck, then further down to your chest.

"Gods. Seeing you in such a state makes me reconsider if I am truly cursed. You're ambrosial." His face goes to your neck, peppering kisses and licks up and down. You moan again, your arousal climbing higher. Your hips begin to grind the air, praying for solace, pleading for his touch. He bites down on you, blunt teeth tickling your skin. You gasp out, back arching so your bodies are fully touching.

"Please, please Gale." You whimper, eyes closed and lips parted.

"What do you need, my love?" He asks you huskily, still licking and kissing your neck.

"I need you." You wail out, eyes watering from his teasing.

"Not as much as I need you, my sweet." With a wave of his hand, both your clothes dissipate. His eyes wander, admiring your body. Your hands go to his chest, caressing the hair there. For a moment, your fingers hover over the tattoo, before touching it with such gentleness. He exhales at your touch, eyes closing while your hands wander. Your hands go to his shoulders where they caress the tense muscle there. He smiles before opening his eyes, adoration shining in them.

"You are a goddess." You squirm under his words, blushing deeply. His hands start to caress the sides of your torso, going up to your breasts. His thumbs start rubbing against your peaks, the rough texture of his fingers making you whimper. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, as you look at him pleadingly.

"Gale, don't tease me." His eyes glace up to your face, as he lowers himself closer to your chest.

"Don't worry my sweet sorcerer, I'll make sure this night is magical." His lips take in one of your nipples, as he begins to suck and bite. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. As he worships your nipple, his other hand begins to play roughly with the other one. His empty hand waves, and a mage hand appears and takes both your wrists in its mystical grasp, placing them above your head like Gale had done moments before. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

You whimper under his actions, panting and arching into him. One of his hands trails down to the apex of your thighs, and begins to caress your core. You exhale loudly through your nose as you bite your lip, groaning. He comes off of your chest with a pop! and grins at you.

"My sweet, are you this wet for me? Can't wait to spread you open and taste you for myself-" His hands spread your legs as far as you can go, as he lowers down. You feel his breathe on your core. For a moment, nothing happens, but then he summons two more mage hands to hold your thighs open as he begins to taste you.

His tongue licks the side of your thighs, as he places open mouthed kisses on your hot skin. He does this for a minute, just worshipping your skin, and then he licks up your core. He moans into you as he tastes your slick, eyes closing.

"Ambrosial, just as I suspected-" He opens his eyes and looks at you as you watch him attentively. "I can't wait to taste you until I bring you to other planes of existence." He attacks your pussy with fervor, licking and prodding at you. His ambidextrous tongue works wonders on you, he spreads you open further with his fingers, as he brings his tongue into you. You gasp at the intrusion, hands struggling against the grip of the mage hand, wishing to push him further into you. As he continues to taste you, his concentration wavers and the mage hands dissipate. Your hands latch into his dark curly locks, tugging at him as you continuously plea don't stop. He chuckles into your skin, as he pulls away.

"I won't stop worshipping you until the end of the night, my beloved. I promised you magic, and you'll take it like a good girl." You whimper at his words, slick leaving you. He licks it up from the source, moaning into your skin. As he goes to take your clit into his mouth, two of his thick fingers caress at your entrance before going in to the hilt and curling upwards. You caterwaul at the attention, hands gripping his locks tighter. He licks and sucks at your clit, fingers pistoning in and out of you. You feel your nirvana quickly approaching.

"G-Gale I'm close, so so close. Please-" You beg him, eyes closed. He hums against your clit as he curls his fingers curve upwards. You've hit your peak, back arching into the sky and thighs tightening against his head. You see explosions of colours behind your eyelids, and your body is weightless for many moments. As you come back from your high, you open your eyes to see Gale admiring your face; his fingers lazily pumping into you. You clench around his fingers as you pant, eyes still unfocused.

"O-oh-" You whisper, head hitting the floor as you close your eyes to try to get your bearings. Gale chuckles at you as he removes his fingers from you, tasting your spend on his skin. As your breathing gets back to normal, you open your eyes again to gaze at Gale.

"I want to please you-" He cuts you off, picking you up off the floor with relative ease and depositing you onto the bed.

"If you do that I know I will not be able to please you as long as I'd like." He tells you honestly as he licks his lips. You surge forward, capturing his mouth against yours. You can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it excites you further. Your legs lock around his waist and pull him into you, his cockhead bumping into your clit. You split from each other, admiring one another.

"Take what you want from me, Gale of Waterdeep." He moans at your words, and grasps his cock in his hand.

"You don't know how you affect me, (Y/N). Your words, your scent, your taste. I can't wait to take you and make you mine." As he speaks, he thrusts into you in one quick motion, bottoming out inside of you. You both gasp, the connection unlike any other you had ever experienced in your life.

"Please make me yours Gale. I'll be anything you want, do anything you want. Just make me yours." He begins to thrust into you, his pace rough and deep. He continues to hit that spot, and you feel your orgasm coming again.

"I'm s-so close." You whisper into his ear, kissing the side of his face. He turns and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. He pulls your legs over his shoulders, and you feel his tip kiss your cervix. You gasp against his lips, panting.

"That's right, sweetheart. Let go-" His words bring you to your crest, and you babble as your brain short circuits. As you reach your peak, he does as well, moaning out your name against the column of your neck. His hips stutter to a stop as he releases inside of you, the clenching of your pussy too much for him. He collapses onto you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings to you. After a moment, you pull him into a gentle kiss, savouring the moment with him.

"You are perfect." He whispers to you as you part. Your hand caresses the side of his face.

"You are the perfect one. I hope I can spend the rest of this journey reminding you." You tell him softly. He closes his eyes, smiling at your words.

"How can I ever consider myself less than when I am in your embrace?" You blush, pulling him into a hug. After a moment, he gets up, getting a cloth to clean your mixed spend from between your thighs. Once he deems you clean, he lays back down next to you. You spend the rest of the night cuddling, hushed words of love and appreciation to one another.

The End.

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #smut #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale my beloved #bg3 #angst with a happy ending #light angst #gale x sorcerer!reader #gale / reader

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feyascorner · 4 months

Text

7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind.

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–”

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t��”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat.

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.”

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence—one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings.

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter.

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid.

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry.

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles.

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@bitterrenegade@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom@iamlowkeycrying@deezus-roy@spiritraves@mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc@whisperingwillowxox@bdudette@misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @deezus-roy @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @bitterbeanren @aelieknox Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added! I needed to redo the entire taglist because it wasn't functioning, so please let me know if I missed you :)

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff #shadowheart #astarion x you #astarion x oc

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celiastjamesoscar · 9 months

Text

Cinnamon Girl

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: Getting a dog wasn’t the best idea, but Sam grew to love the fur ball when she found out you were the dog’s vet.

Warnings: light cussing, extremely fluffy, and I think that’s it? Let me know if I missed any!

AN: Came from this request! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you love it!!!

If you guys want to join a Taglist, let me know!

My Masterlist

Word Count: 8.6K

It was supposed to be a quick trip to town; Sam needed some chili powder and beans to finish making her chili, and Tara wanted to tag along. Of course, Tara only wanted to go because she could probably convince Sam to get her something, and that definitely happened; it just wasn’t what Sam expected.

As the two sisters were leaving their local grocery store, there was a piece of paper stuck to the bulletin board, and as soon as Sam read it, she knew it was over for her.

“Oh my god, Sam, look!” Tara exclaimed as she walked to the board and pointed at the paper. On it was a blown-up picture of a mother dog and six puppies next to her, and underneath the photo read the words, ‘Puppies for free. Shar Pei and Malinois mix. Need all six gone, or they go to the pound. Text XXX-XXX-XXXX if you are interested.’

“Sam, we have to get one!” Tara said as she pulled out her phone and texted the number. “Absolutely not,” Sam retorted. She would not have a dog in her household that she would have to take care of inevitably.

“Why do you hate me?” Tara asked with a slight frown. She knew that if she played this card, Sam would have no option but to tell her yes. Sam stammered over her words but eventually said yes when she realized she couldn’t tell her little sister no. Tara let out a happy squeal as she texted the number, and as they left the shop and got into Sam’s car, she got a response. “They said we could stop by and look at the puppies right now if we wanted. And, of course, we want to,” Tara decided for her and her sister as she told the stranger that she was on her way. “Tara, we cannot just show up at a stranger’s house,” Sam retorted, and Tara scoffed at her words.

“We aren’t going to show up randomly; we’ve been invited. And besides, you’ve talked about getting a guard dog for a while,” Tara explained as she put in the stranger’s address and told Sam how to get there.

With a small huff, Sam listened to her sister’s directions, and the pair arrived at the stranger’s house within ten minutes. Any fear of this being a murderer’s house quickly disappeared as soon as Sam turned down a road near a golf course, and country club homes were lined up on both sides of the street. It was close to Christmas time, and every single house had Christmas lights hung up. And as the two looked at the lights, they both guessed that each house paid more for those lights and decorations than they made in a year combined. ‘It’s just October,’ Sam thought to herself as she gazed at the houses.

“Some of these houses are insane!” Tara exclaimed as her eyes followed a house with a giant statue of Jack Skellington dressed as Santa, and Sam hated to admit it; it was pretty fucking insane.

As the two drove by that house, the most beautiful and captivating woman Sam had ever seen stepped out of the house wearing scrubs, and she looked like she was in a hurry. A weird feeling shot through Sam’s chest as she drove past the beautiful woman getting in her car, and for the first time in her life, Sam wanted to ask for that lady’s number.

With a shake of her head, Sam continued her drive for another minute before she parked outside the designated house. It was one of the more expensive houses in the area, and when Tara texted the stranger about looking at the puppies, a sweet older woman came out of the front door and approached Sam’s car with a beaming smile and warm personality.

The woman introduced herself as Andrea and led the two sisters in her lavish home. “I know it sounds awful, but we must get rid of these little guys. My daughter, Y/N, lives just up the road from me, and the sweet thing is a vet. So I know she would kill me if I let one of these cute babies go to the wrong people. But you two look like lovely people,” Andrea explained as she led the sisters through her house and into the living room, where a small area had been boxed off as the mother and her pups slept together. “How old are they?” Sam asked as she looked at the puppies and felt her heart warm at the sight of the babies and their squished faces.

“Almost eight weeks; Y/N says that’s good for them to stay with their mother for that long,” Andrea replied as she opened the gate and allowed Sam and Tara to walk in. At the sound of footsteps approaching, a couple of the puppies began to stir, and one walked toward Tara and started to rub its face against the girl’s leg. “Hey, little guy,” Tara said as she squatted down and petted the puppy, “Am I allowed to pick it up?”

“Of course! Look at as many as you like; please wash your hands before you pick up the next one. Y/N’s rules,” Andrea said with a smile. Tara picked up the puppy and giggled when the dog licked her face.

The puppy was a brownish color with some shades of black and the softest ears Tara had ever felt. Along with his soft ears, he had the wrinkliest face of a Shar Pei and the stiff body of a Malinois. He had these brown beady eyes that Reminded Sam of Tara, and as she watched her sister play with the dog, she knew the two would be a handful. The dog might not be the best guard dog in the future, but at least he will keep Tara out of Sam’s hair.

After discussing it with Andrea, the two sisters adopted the dog and wrote down the advice of Y/N. “You know, I seriously think you and my daughter would get along perfectly, Sam,” Andrea stated as she walked toward Sam’s car. The mother was carrying a few bags of soft dog food and a more oversized bag for when he gets bigger, recommendations of Y/N, of course. “Oh, yeah? How come?” Sam questioned as she opened Tara’s door; her sister was carrying the puppy that had now fallen asleep in her arms and shut the door.

“I don’t know. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I know you two would get along,” Andrea replied with an all too-knowing smirk that Sam didn’t pick up on. If she played her cards right, she could finally set her daughter up with someone who wasn’t a psychotic woman who tried to murder people on occasion.

Not that your dating history was terrible; you just preferred women who might try and kill you in your sleep.

“What place does she work at? We’ll need to find him a good place,” Sam asked as she opened the back doors. “She works at Ocean Boulevard, just off of Cornelia Street,” Andrea replied as she placed the bags of dog food in the seat, and Sam closed the door.

“I’ll have to give it a try. Thank you,” Sam said with a smile as she said goodbye to Andrea, got in her car, and drove back home with a new addition to the family. As she drove away, Andrea pulled out her phone and called you, too excited to tell you about the new romantic partner she found for you. She might have been an over-the-top mom and was always trying to set you up with women, but she had a good feeling about this young lady.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of soft scratching and whimpering woke Sam up from her peaceful slumber. She groaned as she checked the time and cussed as she saw that it was a quarter past 1. “Warner, come on. We have to go to bed,” Sam heard Tara whisper outside the door, but it was too late; Sam was already getting out of bed.

“Hi,” Tara weakly said with an awkward smile as she held the puppy close to her chest. “What are you doing up?” Sam questioned as she looked between her sister and the dog.

“Warner wanted to come and visit you, and he wouldn’t stop crying until he got to see you,” Tara replied as she held the dog toward her sister. Sam winced when he yawned in her face, and the smell of puppy breath invaded her nostrils. “Well, he got to see me. Now tell him to go back to bed,” Sam commanded as she got back in bed, leaving Tara standing in her doorway.

“But he wants to sleep with you,” Tara spoke for the dog as she sat him on Sam’s bed. And sure enough, he walked toward Sam and made himself at home on the woman’s chest.

With a small huff, Sam allowed the dog to sleep on top of her while Tara climbed into her bed. “Not you, too,” Sam groaned, but Tara shushed her and quickly fell asleep.

As the minutes ticked by, thoughts of regret plagued her, but she was glad to see her sister this happy. And who knows, maybe she was about to meet the vet daughter Andrea was talking about.

Almost like a prayer, not even a week after Sam went to bed with the thought of you, she had to take Warner to the vet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam came home from work, she only wanted to relax, drink some wine, and watch a movie or two. But all that came crashing down when she returned to a crying Tara sitting on the floor holding a more than excited Warner. “Oh my god, Sam! Thank god you’re finally home!” Tara exclaimed through tears as Warner wiggled out of her arms and came prancing toward Sam.

“What’s wrong, Tara?” Sam worriedly asked as she dropped her bag and went to Tara’s side. “Warner ate one of my Legos!” Tara shouted as she picked up the dog and placed a loving kiss on his head. Warner then tried to lick Tara and whined when she dodged it. The puppy seemed ignorant to the crying girl who feared for his life, and all he wanted to do was lick Sam and Tara.

“He seems fine,” Sam coldly replied, but when Tara gave her a death glare, Sam stood up and grabbed her back, “Alright, let’s take him to the vet then.”

The car ride to the vet was silent as Tara tried to calm down while Warner happily licked the more petite girl’s hands. It might sound stupid to most, but taking care of Warner meant that Tara could actually care for herself in her own eyes. She believed that if she kept the dog alive and gave him a long and happy life, she could also have that same life.

“I think he’s fine,” Sam stated but quickly regretted her words when Tara smacked her arm, and she swore she heard Warner do his dog version of a laugh. Sam could not wait until they got to the vet just to prove to her sister that the dog was perfectly fine.

And Sam also hoped that you would be there as well. Not that she was particularly interested in meeting Andrea’s daughter, but she wanted to see if you actually lived up to your mother’s kind words about you. And when Sam met you, she knew that Andrea was right, and then some, as the Latina could not pull her eyes away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a prolonged day at the clinic today, nothing too crazy except for the occasional ‘help, my dog swallowed a mysterious item.’

“If I had a dollar for every time someone came in here because their dog swallowed something they weren’t supposed to, I would be rich!” Your coworker, Noah, exclaimed. You two have known each other for years, as you went to high school together, and both decided that you two wanted to go to veterinary school together as well. The two of you got along so well because you both never dated in the same pool of people.

“I feel your pain, but the night is still young, and I bet you that we will have another one,” you replied as you rolled over to his desk in your chair. “Are you seriously playing Solitaire right now?”

Noah scuffed at your question as he continued his game on the computer. “Yes, I am, thank you very much. And I am quite good at it; I shall have you know,” he sassed back before turning his attention away from his game and looking at you, “Your mother told me that she had found someone for you. Is it true?”

You sighed as you leaned back in your chair and threw your back. “Dude, you have no idea. She called me as soon as she met this woman. She went on this long-ass tangent about how I seriously need to give this woman a chance because ‘she had the softest brown eyes and held all the warmth I would need,’” you finished with a quote from your mother.

“She sounds like a real charmer,” Noah replied, “But seriously, how much should we trust your mother’s opinion? You remember the last girl she set you up?” At the mention of your last relationship, you shuttered. “Yeah, let’s not bring that up again. And besides, when did this turn into a ‘we’ thing?”

Noah scoffed at your words that cut him deep. “We have a bond, you and I. We shared a room on our trip to Italy because the group wanted to ‘contain the gayness’ so no one would contract it. That’s a bond that doesn’t break!” He exclaimed with a smile. “Being for real, though, You’re my best friend, and I want what’s best for you, even if that means having to butt heads with your mother from time to time.”

I know,” you said with a sigh, “I mean, at least she’s making an effort. Even if she sets me up with crazy ass women.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Noah joked as he returned to his solitaire game while you stood up. “You know, I kinda want to meet this woman. Just to prove to my mom that all the women she tries to get me with are absolutely insane,” you joked as you grabbed your telescope and put it around your neck while leaving the reception area.

Just when you started to walk into the back room to check on the animals that were staying overnight, the front door opened, and the bell rang. “Your turn to get it,” Noah stated while making no effort to check to see who was at the door.

You huffed at his words while walking toward the front door, and your breath hitched in your throat. Standing before was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, and she wore a tight, long-sleeve shirt that hugged her muscular arms perfectly. The shirt was also tight on her torso area so that you could see the faintest of an outline of her abs. And those eyes, you swore that they were the softest eyes you had ever seen, big and brown and enticing. All you wanted to do was get lost in them, but your mind was quickly pulled out of the gutter when a more petite woman stepped out from behind the alluring woman while holding a small puppy in her arms.

“My dog swallowed a Lego!” The girl exclaimed while walking closer to you, and you threw an evil glance at Noah when he chuckled at the girl’s statement. “Alright, let’s see what I can do for it. May I?” You politely asked with a smile while holding out your arms. The girl was hesitant initially, but after a slight nudge from the taller woman, she reluctantly handed you the puppy.

“Follow me,” you said while walking down the hallway and opening up a door to a room. You placed the dog on the metal table, and he automatically curled up into a ball and closed his eyes. “I’m going to need you to fill out these papers while I get the ultrasound set up and ready to go,” you stated while putting some paperwork on a clipboard with a pen and handing it to the more petite girl, as she seemed to be the one who cared about the animal the most.

While you got the ultrasound ready, you couldn’t help but feel eyes on you, and when you met them, you gave the taller woman the softest smile, and Sam felt her heart melt. When she first got here, Sam noticed your badge, and her heart did flips when she saw that it said ‘Y/N L/N,’ and Sam prayed that you were the daughter of Andrea.

“Here you go,” Tara said while handing you the clipboard, and you told her thank you as you took it from her. “‘Warner?’ That’s an odd name for a dog,” you stated as you looked over the sheets for the dog.

“Yeah, I named him after my favorite book character,” Tara replied embarrassedly as her eyes looked bashfully at the floor.

“Please tell me you did not name your dog after Aaron Warner,” you deadpanned as you stared at the girl.

A few beats of silence passed before she admitted, “Yes, I did.” You chuckled as you set the clipboard down and turned on the ultrasound machine. “I’m going to ignore what you just said,” you joked with a smile, and Sam had to fight back the feeling of jealousy that stirred in her chest.

“Okay, so I’m going to do an ultrasound on Warner’s stomach to see the location of the Lego, and then, depending on its location, I will be able to tell the best course of action. Is that alright with you?” You asked as you sat in your chair and rolled over the metal table.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me,” Tara replied as she walked over to the table and gently ran a hand down Warner, causing the dog to open his eyes and yawn.

A few minutes passed while you performed the ultrasound, and when you found the object in the puppy’s stomach, you pointed to it on the screen. “You can see the object right here. Now, he will be able to pass it just fine; giving him cooked asparagus will help him have bowel movements, and he should secrete it in a couple of days,” you explained as you turned off the machine and rubbed the dog’s head for good measure.

“Thank you so much,” Tara replied as she picked up the dog. “It’s no problem,” you replied while opening the door and motioning for the sisters to follow you to the front desk.

“Just come back in a week's time for a checkup, and I can do his routine checkup as well,” you stated while filling out a business card with your number and the clinic's address, and you handed it to Sam. When she took the card, her fingers brushed against yours, and you both felt a spark shoot through your fingertips and quickly spread throughout your bodies. Both of your heartbeats quickened and matched in rhythm, both of you too shocked to say anything for a few moments.

‘Umm… How much do I owe you?” Sam eventually asked after she put your card in her wallet. Realizing that you were still at work and needed to take money from this woman, you hated your job at that moment. “You don’t owe me anything,” you offered with a smile as you printed off the receipt for Sam.

A small laugh escaped Sam’s lips as she started to pull out her credit card, but you quickly placed your hand on the woman’s wrist, stopping her movements. “I’m serious; you don’t owe me anything. Consider this pro bono,” you said as you gave Sam’s wrist a gentle squeeze and a loving smile.

The feeling of your hand on her wrist gave Sam wartime she didn’t need, and she felt her heart rip apart when you pulled away after keeping your hand on her for a second too long. “I can’t let you do that,” Sam stated as she shook her head and handed you her card, and you accepted it only to hand it back with a smile. “Consider this a treat, and you can repay me by coming back next week for a check-up,” you reasoned.

A few moments of silence passed as you had a silent battle with Sam, but eventually, she surrendered and put her card away. “Are you sure?” Sam asked one last time; she hated having to be in people’s doubt, as it seemed that they held something over her head. But the thought of being in your doubt didn’t sound bad for some unknown reason.

“Oh yeah, I’m positive,” you responded as you followed the sisters toward the door and held it open for them. She didn’t know why, but Sam wanted to introduce herself to you. It might be because you just waived her undoubtedly costly vet bill or because she found herself attracted to you.

“Well, thank you. Seriously. I don’t know how I could ever repay you,” Sam said while sticking her hand toward you, “I’m Sam, by the way.”

‘You can repay me by letting me take you on a date,’ you helplessly thought but said, “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Y/N,” while shaking the woman’s hand.

Her rough hands felt heavenly against yours, and you could feel her strength as she tried her best to treat your hand with gentleness, something she wasn’t used to. You found yourself getting lost in her chocolate eyes, and you questioned how thieves bothered with petty art while her eyes existed; they seemed priceless to you.

An awkward throat cleared beside you, and you quickly dropped Sam’s hand while Tara looked between you and her sister. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Dr. Y/N, but me and my sister have to go,” Tara commented with an evil smirk; she could not wait to interrogate her sister about her tense exchange of names with you.

“I’ll see you next week, yeah?” You asked the girls, but in reality, you were only talking to Sam. “Of course,” Sam responded with a smile as her eyes quickly checked you from head to toe before leaving the clinic with her sister.

Once they had left the building, an arm was flung around your neck, and Noah pulled you against his body, “What did I just witness?”

“Nothing, just a friendly exchange,” you replied as you shoved Noah off you and sat at the reception desk. “Bullshit. You never offer free stuff because it will come out of your paycheck. And you and I both know that was over 500 dollars,” Noah retorted while standing over your shoulder.

“I know that.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because I felt like it was a nice thing to do.”

“Nuh-uh. You just saw a pretty woman and instantly fell to your knees. You disgust me,” Noah joked with a disgusted face. “Oh, like you haven’t done worse. Remember that Tinder guy? You had made me drive you an hour to where he lived so we could stalk him at work!” You exclaimed as you recalled the memory.

“That wasn’t my fault! I needed to know if I was being catfished! And I was!” Noah defended, but after a few moments, he decided to let it go; he knew he would never win an argument with you.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you smugly said as you began writing down notes on Warner, and once you were done, you checked the time and stood up. “Alright, it's time for me to clock out. I’ll see you later, Noah,” you stated while grabbing your belongings and walking toward the front door.

“I’ll see you,” Noah called out with a wave of his hand while you disappeared outside.

The drive back to your apartment was a quick one and one filled with the thoughts of Sam. You knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but feel an undeniable attraction to the woman you had just met. Based on the details your mother had given you about the woman she told you about, you knew that this was the woman she mentioned. Those big, brown eyes and soft smile, you were head over heels for that woman. And unbeknownst to you, she is also head over heels for you as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck was that?” Tara questioned as soon as they got into Sam’s car. “Hmm? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam guiltily replied. She had hoped that her sister wouldn’t have picked up on her unmistakable fascination with you, but Tara knew Sam like the back of her scarred hand.

“Yes, you do. Why did you feel it was necessary to introduce yourself to her? You hate it when people know your name, especially strangers,” Tara challenged. She would get an answer from Sam, whether the woman wanted to admit it or not.

With a small sigh, Sam started the car and drove toward the apartment before answering, “I just felt like it was needed since she paid for the bill. Nothing else.”

“Mhmmmmm,” Tara replied as she studied her sister. She knew Sam was lying, but she wouldn’t press her for more information. Not now, at least.

Sam was grateful that Tara didn’t press on anymore, and she enjoyed the silence as she hoped she would be the one to bring Warner back to the vet. She found comfort in your soft and calloused hands, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to be held by someone. And if you had her without hurting her, you would be the first who ever did.

Sam knew it was crazy to feel this way toward someone she had just met not even an hour ago, but there was an undeniable spark that you both felt when your hands met. And she was pissed that she had to wait a week to see you again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That week was the slowest and most dreadful week of Sam’s life. Work sucked, and she had to work doubles almost daily, but she vowed to repay you for the vet bill. She thought about inviting you over for dinner to repay you, but she figured that you would want actual money instead of a nice, home-cooked meal where the secret ingredient was love and yearning.

Only when it was time to take Warner to the vet did she get out of bed with excitement, threw on a tank top that showed a little bit of her belly, and put on her trusty bomber jacket over it.

“Alright, Tara. I’m taking Warner to the vet,” Sam called out as she picked up the puppy and grabbed his leash. Warner started getting a little bit bigger now, but he was still small enough for Sam to hold him with one arm.

“What? I thought I was taking him?” Tara confusingly asked as she exited her room and frowned when she saw Sam heading toward the door. “And why are you so eager to take him?”

“I’m not; I just want to get this over with. And you can’t take him because you have your English paper due tonight,” Sam reasoned, even though she wanted to take Warner to see you again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take him because you want to see the pretty vet lady again?” Tara questioned with a playful smirk and thought, ‘Got ya,’ when Sam quickly scoffed and automatically denied the accusation.

“Why would I want this little shit to the vet just to see someone? That’s absurd,” Sam denied as she grabbed her purse backpack, put it on her back, and opened the door. “But I’ll pick you up some food on my way back.”

Tara knew what that translated: don’t tell the twins, and I’ll give you some ‘hush food.’

“Sounds good! Be nice, Sam. And remember: don’t be silly, wrap your Willy,” Tara joked with a smirk while she walked back into her room and shut her door.

“I don’t need to wrap my Willy, do I, Warner?” Sam asked once she left the apartment and rubbed the dog’s chin. Warner responded with a small yelp while licking Sam’s fingers, agreeing with Sam in his way. “Come on, little guy. Let’s get you to the pretty vet lady,” Sam told Warner while walking toward her car.

She opened her door and sat him on the passenger seat, and naturally, he curled up into a ball and went to sleep. It amazed Sam how much the little shit slept; she was positive he slept at least 14 hours a day and was only awake to torment her. But Sam couldn’t say anything to Tara about it, as she believed Warner was the sweetest little guy out there. The two had that in common: both being little guys who were absolute devils when left by themselves. Sam had lost count of how many shoes he had destroyed, and she also lost count of how many fights Tara started with literal children on Roblox. It was safe to say that Sam was constantly busy between the two, and she only wanted to relax with you.

When Sam arrived at the clinic, she put Warner on his leash, held him just for a safe measure, and walked inside. “Hello, Warner is here for his check-up,” Sam said once she reached the reception desk. “Okay, Doctor Y/N is finishing up an orchiectomy, and then she’ll be right out. You two can have a seat right there while you wait,” the receptionist politely stated as she motioned to the waiting area.

Sam told the lady ‘thank you’ and sat in one of the chairs and Warner in her lap. She’d rather die than let the shit step foot on the ground for even a second, and she was grateful when he went to sleep. Several minutes passed while Sam tried to calm her mysterious nerves, and her phone vibrated, and she scoffed when she read the text message.

Tara: How’s it going with lover girl??

Sammy 👻: Waiting for her to get done chopping the nuts off a dog. Why?

Tara: Ummmm because you seemed way too eager to take Warner to the vet this morning

Sam’s phone vibrated with another message, but she didn’t get to read it when her head instantly shot up when she heard your soft, angelic voice. “Alright, make sure he keeps his cone on and doesn’t do anything too crazy,” you told an old woman who held her dog close to her chest. “Oh, I will, sweetie. Thank you so much,” the old woman replied with a voice that spoke with years of knowledge.

Sam watched as you held the door open for the woman before you turned to Sam, and when your eyes made contact, a giant smile grew on your face. “Where’s the sister?” You asked with a lovesick grin as you walked to Sam and stopped before the sitting woman. “She stayed home. Had a lot of homework to do,” Sam replied as she stood up and held Warner close to her chest. The dog started to wake up, and he whimpered with excitement when he saw you and began to squirm out of Sam’s hold to get to you.

“Hey, little guy,” you said softly as you reached out toward the dog, and Sam eagerly handed him over to you. You gave Warner scratches behind his eye, and he tried to lick your hand in ‘thank you.’ “You can follow me,” you told Sam as you began walking down a hallway and opened a door to an examining room.

Sam sat down in the corner of the room while you sat Warner on the examining table and rolled your chair over to the table. “How has he been since his last visit?” You asked as you put on gloves. “He’s been fine other than being a little shit most of the time,” Sam responded with a slight chuckle as her phone started to blow up with chain messages from Tara.

A small gasp left your lips as you pretended to be shocked, and you tried your best to ignore Sam’s phone. And your heart pinged with jealousy at the thought of someone calling Sam their girlfriend. You covered Warner’s ears and kissed his head, “Don’t listen to her. I bet you’re the sweetest thing ever.” The Latina scoffed at your words, but she enjoyed seeing how Warner loved you and the attention you gave him. She found comfort in that you could display such love for an animal and hoped that one day you could show her the same passion.

“Alright, little guy. Let’s start your exam,” you stated as you gave Warner’s head one final pat before grabbing your stethoscope and putting it in your ears. Sam’s phone continued to receive messages, and you couldn’t take it anymore, and you had to know.

“You got a boyfriend?” You asked while your eyes darted between Sam and her phone, which vibrated with text messages while you held the end of the stethoscope to Warner’s heart.

“Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Sam joked with a smile as she tried to hide her nervousness and turned on ‘do not disturb’ on her phone. She had no idea why you would ask her that question unless it pertained to her phone, which was being assaulted with chain messages from Tara.

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” You questioned with a flirtatious smile as your eyes scanned Sam’s muscular body, and your mind was instantly filled with the thoughts of you and her tangled in bedsheets. You moved the scope to Warner's lungs as you tried to return to reality.

“No,” Sam replied as she raised her eyebrow, trying to see what angle you were playing at.

“You never told me your last name,” you observed while listening to Warner’s breathing with your stethoscope.

“Why do you want to know my last name?” Sam asked with a nervous chuckle, hoping that you didn’t know her name from the Subreddits that accused her of the 2022 Woodsboro murders or that you didn’t read Gale Weathers’ latest book that called her a born killer and mentally unstable.

“Because I want to know what my future last name will be,” you confidently stated with a smirk as your mischievous eyes met Sam’s soft ones. You set down the stethoscope and then placed your hands on Warner’s stomach.

“Moving a bit quick, aren’t we?” The Latina pointed out after a few seconds. Tension filled the air with every second that passed, and even Warner seemed to pick up on it as his small head darted from you to Sam.

“Maybe, but U-Haul lesbians exist for a reason,” you reasoned as you palpitated Warner’s stomach, checking for abdominal pain or masses.

“I guess so. But seriously, why do you want to know?” Sam pressed on, “It’s Carpenter, by the way.”

You already knew her last name was Carpenter from the paperwork she filled out during the first visit; you just wanted to mess with her a little bit. And also find out if she had a boyfriend in the process.

“Because I would like to take you out to lunch sometime,” you said as your eyes refused to meet Sam’s. Any confidence that you had earlier disappeared when you asked the million-dollar question. “Only if you want to go, of course.”

“I would love to go to lunch with you,” Sam replied with a genuine smile, something she wasn’t used to doing. “Sweet! I’ll, um, I’ll give you my number once I finish up with him,” you embarrassingly said as your eyes met with Sam’s, and you smiled when you saw the excitement in hers.

Once you finished Warner's exam, you told Sam that everything was fine and that he should return next year for his next checkup. As you walked Sam out of the clinic, you pulled out a small notepad from your white lab coat and wrote down your number. “You don’t have to call me or anything, but I would like it if you did,” you told Sam with a smile as you ripped out the paper and handed it to her.

Sam gladly accepted the paper and put it in her jeans pocket, “I’ll text you when I get home, Y/N. It was nice to see you.”

“Yeah, likewise,” you responded as you held the front door open for Sam, and she left with Warner climbing over her shoulder and howling at you, telling you that he was going to miss you.

And true to her word, as soon as Sam stepped foot in her apartment, she set Warner down, and he automatically took off to Tara’s room while she texted you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you talked every day, and you started to have lunch with each other every Friday. You two would talk about your week and your plans for the weekend while also talking about your personal lives. You told Sam everything about your childhood, and in turn, she started to open up more around you.

During your fourth lunch together, Sam opened up completely about her past. She was terrified that she would drive you away and ruin any chance at having a romantic relationship with you when she told you about her schizophrenia, past drug addiction, her biological father, and how she was in the most previous Ghostface attacks in Woodsboro.

“I knew about the attacks, Sam,” you told the woman once she finished speaking, and you gently reached your hand across the table and took one of hers in yours. You traced soft patterns on her hand with your thumb, “Thank you for trusting me enough to open up about them.”

Sam was dumbfounded at this news. She could not believe that you knew about the attacks but said nothing. “How come you didn’t say anything?” Sam deadpanned as her walls started to come up again, but she allowed you to still hold her hand and trace patterns on her skin.

“Because I figured it was something you would want to tell me on your own time or never talk about it,” you honestly replied, and Sam found comfort in your words as you continued, “I’m sorry if I upset you from keeping that from you. I didn’t know how you would react if you knew that I already knew about some things in your past.”

A dry chuckle escaped Sam’s lips, “I honestly probably would have ran if you would have told me.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t then,” you responded with a small laugh, and Sam gave your hand a gentle squeeze, grateful that you didn’t rush anything with her or try and force her to talk about her past.

Things between the two of you changed after that lunch; you two would FaceTime whenever you couldn’t see each other, and you would talk on the phone every night just before bed. The feelings you bore for Sam grew even deeper the more you spent time talking to the woman, and her feelings did the same.

Whenever the two of you didn’t have to work the next day, you would stay the night at the Carpenter apartment, and you were even invited to their game nights every Friday night. You quickly bonded with Mindy and Tara, and sometimes, when Sam was at work, they would invite you over for their horror movie night. You would engage in debates with her, and after enough conversations, you earned Mindy’s approval to date Sam, even though she would never tell you that.

Tara was a bit harder to win over, but when Warner would fight out of her grasp and make his way to you and how the little shit would lick your face as you laughed uncontrollably, she knew you were the one for her sister.

Sam was still the hardest to win over, ultimately. Yes, you were on her mind every second of every day, and she fantasized about what it would be like to wake up with you in her arms every morning and call you hers, but she was still scared of commitment. Sam wanted to love you; she needed to love you, but she was also terrified that you would hurt her in the end. And that is the reason Sam is in this current situation.

“Trust me, Sam. Women are crazy; just ask your sister. Finding the right woman is like finding a needle in a pile of needles: it’s impossibly stupid. But luckily, I have the woman of my dreams,” Mindy exclaimed with her hands, adding extra emphasis to her words while Tara nodded along. Mindy had forced Sam to sit down in the living room and lecture her on dating women, and she also had gathered the women of the group to talk to Sam and convince her to ask you out, whether Sam wanted to or not.

“Don’t try and flatter me after you called all women crazy,” Anika dryly stated. “Sorry, love. But anyway. Sam, you have found yourself a woman who is that needle in a needle stack, so you better not let her go!” Mindy shouted, and Sam shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hated being the center of attention, especially during this current conversion. She had been with a few women before, but she had never dated one. And Sam also hated getting advice from one of the children she used to babysit.

“Alright, fine, I’ll ask her on a date,” Sam defeatedly said as she pulled out her phone and opened up her messages with you, “what the fuck are you doing?” Mindy questioned as she took Sam’s phone away from her.

“I was going to ask her on a date, just like you told me to,” Sam retorted as she reached for her phone, but Mindy held it away.

“Nope. You have to do it in person. Like a big girl.”

“That was not in the agreement. I have to ask our Y/N, and you never told me how.”

“Well, new rule: you have to do it in person!” Mindy exclaimed as Sam scoffed at the younger girl. “Mindy, we should let Sam do it however she wants. The point is that Sam will ask Y/N out, not how she will do it,” Tara reasoned. Mindy hated to admit it, but the little shit was right.

“Alright, fine,” Mindy huffed as she handed Sam her phone back, “But you better not fumble.”

“I’ll try not to,” Sam replied as she typed out her message to you, ‘Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?’ And she eagerly waited for a text message back as her nerves started to grow. Sam was on the verge of texting you and apologizing, but she saw that you had already responded.

Dog whisperer: Of course!! I was starting to wonder when you would finally ask me ;)

Sam 😮‍💨: Haha, very funny. Want to grab some dinner and come back to my place to watch a movie later today?

Dog whisperer: You don’t even have to ask! I’m free around 6

Sam 😮‍💨: Sounds good! I’ll pick you up then.

The smile on Sam’s face was comical as she texted back and forth with you while ignoring the insults being thrown at her by Mindy. She didn’t care; as long as she had you, she would deal with everything with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The date was excellent; you two went to a fancy restaurant, and you had to restrain yourself as Sam wore a tight, black dress that hugged her body perfectly and displayed her muscular arms. You two joked back and forth throughout the dinner, and when it was time to leave, you went to Sam’s apartment.

Sam gave you some more comfortable clothes to change into, and she did the same. You held the shirt to your nose and breathed in the comforting smell of Sam before you realized how weird that was and changed into the clothing. When you came out of the bathroom and joined Sam on the couch, the Latina lost her breath when she saw you in her clothing, and she couldn’t help but wish she could see you in her clothes all the time.

You guys watched shitty romcoms well into the night, and at some point, you fell asleep with your head in Sam’s lap. Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, Sam carefully stood up and placed a pillow underneath your head while she went to the loveseat couch and slept.

For numerous weeks, you and Sam would spend a couple of evenings a month doing that, and eventually, you worked up the courage to place a loving kiss on Sam’s check after you dropped her off at her apartment one evening.

By this time, it was well into December, and Sam was falling in love with you. You two didn’t put any labels on your relationship, but you both had feelings for each other even though neither of you said anything.

“Would you want to go ice skating with me later today?” You asked Sam as you were in her kitchen and helping her wash dishes. You had been invited over for dinner with the core four plus Anika, and while the rest of the group was in the living room watching a basketball game, you stayed in the kitchen to help Sam clean up.

“I would love to, but I have to warn you; I haven’t ice skated before,” Sam responded with a small laugh as she dried off a plate.

“That’s alright. That just means we will have more fun,” you stated with a smirk as you pulled out a dish from the sink and began rinsing it off. “Yeah, it will be so much fun when I fall on my face,” the raven-haired woman joked as she walked over to you and grabbed a plate with her left hand. A surge of boldness shot through Sam as she placed her right hand on your lower back and kept it there, silently waiting for you to push her hand off you. But when you turned to look at her with that soft smile only reserved for her and your eyes quickly glanced down at her lips, Sam moved her right hand even more, wrapped it around your hip, and pulled you close to her.

“I would love to go with you,” Sam whispered as she kissed your head. Long forgetting about the dishes, you dried your hands off and gently cupped Sam’s cheeks as your heart began to pick up its pace. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you slowly brought Sam’s face close to yours, and you could feel her breathing against your lips.

“May I kiss you?” You asked against Sam’s lips, and when you felt her nod, you slowly leaned, and you could feel the outline of her lips against yours when Mindy came stomping into the kitchen.

“Do not make out in front of my ice cream cake, you disgusting perverts!” Mindy exclaimed as you and Sam pulled apart at lightning speed. Sam awkwardly cleared her throat as she watched Mindy take a fork, shove it into the middle of the cake, pull out a ginormous slice, and put it on a plate before disappearing back into the living room, but not before sending you two a playful wink.

A few beats of silence passed before you cleared your throat, “So, about that ice skating?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On New Year’s Eve night, you took the group to go ice skating at Rockefeller Center. To say that the trip was a disaster would be an understatement. From Tara skating around like Tonya Harding and then purposely tripping small children that got in her way, to Mindy and Chad refusing to leave the guard rails while Anika tried to pry Mindy away from them.

“Come on, Sam. It’s not that bad,” you stated as you pushed off the rails and skated a few paces away from Sam before making your way back to the woman. “Shut the fuck up,” Sam whispered as her legs started to wobble. Ice skating was something she hated, and she hated you for convincing her to do it.

“Sam, I will hold you up the entire time, I promise,” you declared as you stood in front of her and placed your hands on her hips, “Just do one lap with me and we can call it quits.”

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Sam whispered but she allowed you to guide her away from the rails. “I know you do,” you replied with a gentle smile as you skated backward while facing Sam. You had never skated backward before, but you would do anything for Sam, and your smile grew even larger when the woman placed her hands on your shoulder and pulled herself closer to you.

The first lap went like a breeze, and Sam was starting to get the hang out of it. She even felt confident enough to have you skate beside her and you two held hands as you went around another lap. You were getting ready to ask Sam to be your girlfriend when she hit a small bump on the ice and started to fall.

“I got you,” you stated as you gripped her forearms and pulled her back to her feet and steadied her. When Sam was finally stable on her feet, she felt her heart burst as she looked at your love struck eyes and hearty smile. “Thank you,” was all she managed to mutter before large shouting echoed throughout the area.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

You and Sam looked around and you saw that the ball was about to drop, and you pulled Sam closer to you. Sam smiled as she realized that she might have her first New Year’s kiss with someone she wanted forever and she refused to give that opportunity up.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” Sam asked as she got closer to you. “You don’t have to ask,” you replied while Sam cupped your cheeks and you gripped her waist and pulled her body against yours.

“Three! Two! One!”

When the crowd reached one and the ball dropped, you sealed the New Year with a kiss from your Sammy. And that kiss contained the promise of years to come.

“Alright now. Break it up you two,” Tara joked as she skated over to you and you placed a quick kiss on Sam’s lips before pulling away. “Is everyone ready to go?” You asked with cheeks that were crimson red as Sam dropped her hands from them and you let go of her waist.

“Yeah, I think so,” Tara responded and you left the area with the group. You and Sam allowed the rest to walk a few paces in front of you, giving you two some privacy to talk. “So,” you said while lacing your fingers with Sam’s and pulling her into your side, “Would you like to officially be my girlfriend?”

Sam squeezed your hand three times and kissed your lips before responding, “I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year’s Day.”

Sam tried to push you out and keep you at arm’s length, but you just found your way back in. There were so many things she wanted to say to you, like that you were the first person to hold her without me, but Sam waited until later that night to show you just how much you meant to her.

#sam carpenter #scream #sam carpenter x reader #melissa barrera #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #tara carpenter #mindy meeks martin

781 notes · View notes

just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 2 months

Text

little cleric

masterlist

shadowheart x reader

blood and injury, hurt/comfort, minor angst, a little kiss

a/n: based on this request - no use of 'y/n' or 'tav', though i am inclined to use tav in the future unless you'd prefer different (let me know bc idk what to use)

wc: 1.1k

The stinging pain of metal sliced through your skin, leaving its mark on your sleeve and its painful etching of blood in the muscle of your upper arm.

Shadowheart watched as though time had slowed beneath a wretched coating of molasses as the arrow flew near her; she was lucky to escape its assault, but you hadn't the same favour.

The final blow was enough to knock you down. You were at her feet with a wail of pain, and she hated how she couldn't do anything to aid you. The battle was almost won, and all she hoped was that her body positioned in front of yours would serve as well as possible as a shield.

The claws of Shar had rid her of this ache - until you, it was foreign - but her stomach pulled each time a whimper of exhausted pain fell from your lips. Each time she checked on your tired body, blood-stained and gasping for breath, she felt her heart lurch. With such a sight, she almost wished you had not been that shine of light within the darkened shroud of her goddess - or that she hadn’t embarked on this journey at all. Though, she could never claim - even to herself - that she would rather rid herself of her time with you than bear her own suffering in witnessing yours.

In learning of love, Shadowheart has also learned of the bittersweet moments that accompany it. Your pain is hers, and she’s learning to brace its weight.

When the final foe had fallen, she didn’t waste a second; the cleric was crouched at your side with her arms hoisting your aching body to its feet. You leaned against her, and she could hear each shaking breath; she could feel the rapid thrum of your heart beneath her palm.

“Here,” she murmured, lifting a vial to your chapped lips. The crimson solution soothed you with minimal reprieve, but after such a tiresome battle, you all needed rest. Your lover was counting down the seconds until she had the strength to adequately heal you.

The journey back to camp wasn’t much of a trek, so, with a slowed pace and your companions letting you take your time, you soon made your way back—not without a fretting girlfriend by your side, however.

“I can’t help but blame myself for your injury,” she frowned. Her eyes stayed trained on her feet, and you could see the furrow in her brows when you glanced her way.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you returned. “I often find myself in precarious situations,” you added with a smile, hoping to appease her when she looked at you. You didn’t miss the cloud of guilt pass over her when she eyed the bruise beginning its appearance on your cheek.

“I know,” she smiled. “Though, I’d prefer it if you got yourself into fewer spots of bother.”

“Well, I do have a little cleric at my beck and call,” you teased, huffing at the shoulder she bumped into yours.

“This ‘little cleric’ may have to retire if you’re going to be injured so much,” she returned. “Think of it as a protest.”

“Loyal servants are hard to come by, I suppose,” you replied with a dramatised sigh just to hear her laugh.

“I’ll stay with you for now, I suppose,” she answered with a matching tone. “I have come to enjoy your company, afterall.”

“I’m glad.”

“So am I.” Her words were coated in sincerity, and her hand on your waist guided you in the direction of the stool beside her bedroll; you allowed her to aid your steps and felt the relief of finally being able to take a seat.

It was a comfortable quiet as she knelt at your feet, finding out the herbal ointment Jaheira supplied her with for when you get into your inevitable scrapes.

“Here, take this off,” she instructed, pulling at the hem of your clothing whilst she grabbed a wooden bowl of water.

“There are easier ways to get me naked, you know?” you mumbled, though you did as she said lest you be berated into complying.

“Oh, I know,” she smirked, dipping a bundle of cloth into the lukewarm water.

Her soft hand greeted your arm with a gentle touch, nudging you to position yourself in a way that would allow ample access to the wound. A mere potion of healing had done little to aid the gaping mark carved into your skin, you hissed through your teeth when she began to wipe it clean.

“I can’t say I enjoy seeing you like this,” she whispered. “Especially when it was caused by a weapon meant for me.”

She spoke to distract you - to distract herself, even. And, considering her affliction to vulnerability, you are always eager to listen. So you left room for her to continue.

“Under the influence of Shar, I was rid of this guilt. Another’s vulnerable state was merely a liability, and though I would tend to an ally, I would never feel their discomfort as my own,” her voice was small and even the ache of the makeshift bandaging being wrapped around your arm was soothed by her words.

“It’s a tricky thing to swallow—taking each of your blows as though they were my own. But I can’t say that I would trade it for anything else in this mess of a world we find ourselves in.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Of course not,” she quickly responded with a vehement shake of her head. “It’s new to me, and I’d be lying if I claimed it to be anything other than daunting, but I’m enjoying the change.”

You admired the light hair she’d opted for and the smile that had stayed the same throughout your time together.

“I’d like to keep sharing your pain if you’ll let me,” Shadowheart murmured, guiding your face with a gentle hold to wipe the blood and grime from your skin.

“Only if you’ll share yours, too,” you replied, your lips ghosting the pad of her thumb as she cupped your cheek in her hand.

“I wouldn’t dare deprive you of such a thing,” she grinned.

“Have I been brave enough to earn a kiss?” you smirked, ending with a pout and a nod towards your tended injury.

“I suppose so, lover.”

Her hand brought your face to hers, lips tentative so as not to disturb any marks of unease; her tongue swiped over your bottom lip, stealing your breath and your heart in one fell swoop. She pulled away much sooner than you’d have preferred, but you could still see the semblance of blame she cursed herself with.

She pushed herself away until she was beneath the purple, cushioned, comfort of her tent with enough space next to her to house your body.

“Come here,” she said, patting the place beside her, opening her arms for you to fall into as soon as you approached.

In the warmth of one another’s embrace, it was easy to fall beneath the impended sleep. Your eyes grew heavy, and her breathing evened—you felt her heart slow with the knowledge of your safety.

“Goodnight, love,” she murmured against the top of your head.

“Goodnight, ‘Heart.”

#shadowheart x reader #shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction

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sunkissed-zegras · 4 months

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✮ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 | zegras' have more fun [evangeline's 1k celly]

♡ ─ word count | 3k words

♡ ─ summary | the summer before umich, trevor and stass spend it with their closest friends, the hughes.

♡ ─ warnings | UNEDITED!!!!! drinking, kissing (but nothing more) luke x stassie and LOTS of jack/luke pining over her, fluff, angst

♡ ─ taglist | @43hughes, here is the taglist form if anyone is interested!

♡ ─ ev's notes | OOOO, this is so much drama. i also hate pitting jack/luke lowkey against each other but its kinda entertaining LMAO. lmk your thoughts!!!!! and don't be shy, if you have any ideas for this AU please send them in!!!

zegras' have more fun au masterlist !!

June 28, 2022

It was the summer before college and Stass laid on the Hughes' yacht, tanning out in the sun. As soon as school was out, Luke had invited her and her family out to the lake house, something they had done every year since Trevor had befriended Quinn and Jack Hughes. Ava decided not to go this year because her friends had planned a trip up to Rhode Island for a summer trip and Griffin had work, so it was just Trevor and Stass.

"Want a beer?" Trevor's voice echoed across the deck as he stood near the cooler, shielding his eyes from the sun to look at Stass.

Stass, still adjusting her sunglasses, flashed a sun-kissed smile and replied, "Sure, pass me one."

"That was a test and you failed." Trevor shook his head as Stass glared at him. "If anyone offers you a beer you say no because you're staying sober, right?"

"Trevor, just shut up and hand me a beer." Stass rolled her eyes at her older brother. "It's not like I haven't one before, you force fed me one when I was like, 9-"

"That's a lie, Griffin did that. I tried stopping him but he was stronger." Trevor replied in a matter-of-factly tone.

Stass laughed, remembering the exaggerated stories her brother used to tell. "Whatever, it doesn't matter now. I'm legal, and I can handle a beer or two."

Trevor grinned, finally passing her a cold bottle. "Legal, responsible, and ready for college. Look at you, all grown up."

She nodded, pulling her sunglasses back down. The lake sparkled around them, and the distant laughter of friends echoed from the shore.

"You know," Trevor began, taking a sip of his beer, "I'm glad we could still make it out here, just the two of us."

Stass nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. "Yeah, it's nice. Quiet."

Trevor glanced at her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You're quiet. That's unusual."

Stass rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, ha-ha. I can be quiet sometimes."

They fell into an easy silence, the only sounds the lapping of the waves against the hull of the yacht and the occasional call of a seagull overhead. Stass closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep into her skin.

"You excited about college?" Trevor asked after a while, breaking the silence.

Stass opened one eye to look at him. "Yeah, nervous too, though. It's a big change."

Trevor nodded in understanding. "Yeah, but you'll do great. You always do."

Stass smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. "Thanks, Trev. That means a lot."

"You know, I'm proud of ya, right?" Trevor added, quietly as he laid back in the chair.

"Aww, Trev, you gettin' all sappy on me now?" Stass teased, nudging him playfully with her elbow.

Trevor chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe just a little."

Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe just a little. But seriously, Stassie, you've always been there for me, through thick and thin. I couldn't ask for a better sister."

Stass felt a lump form in her throat at his words. She reached out and squeezed his hand, the bond between them stronger than ever in that moment. "I'm proud of you too, you know," Stass said, her tone sincere. "You're out there in California playing hockey, like you always wanted."

"Thank you, Stassie." Trevor smiled back at her and a calm silence fell in between them again.

They shared a smile, in that quiet moment, as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the world seemed to slow down around them, Stass realized just how lucky she was to have Trevor by her side.

"Alright, enough of the sentimental stuff," Stass declared, breaking the moment with a grin. "Race you to the diving board?"

"Oh fuck yeah. I'm winning."

──

"Who left all those beer cans on the deck?" Quinn asked as he glared directly at Trevor, annoyance in his expression.

"It was Y/N." Trevor said plainly as Stass rolled her eyes, laying back further on the couch as she watched the TV.

"Fucking liar! Y/N doesn't drink beer and you know it." Quinn crossed his arms, clearly not buying Trevor's attempt to shift the blame.

Trevor chuckled, feigning innocence. "Well, maybe she wanted to try something new today. You know, living on the wild side before college."

Quinn shot a skeptical look at Stass, who raised an eyebrow in response. "Don't look at me, I was just trying to get a tan before I go home. Trevor's just trying to weasel his way out of this one."

"Fine, whatever. I did it."

"We let you borrow our fucking yacht and you trash it, Trevor. Go clean it up." Quinn ordered, his tone firm as he gestured outside.

"Now? It's almost 10, dude, I'll do it in the morning-"

"Trevor, just go do it." Stass rolled her eyes as she kept her attention on the TV, not paying attention to Quinn and Trevor fighting.

Quinn crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin. "Now, Trevor. I don't care if it's dark or if you'd rather be doing something else. You make a mess, you clean it up."

Trevor sighed dramatically, shooting a glare at Stass before heading out to tidy up the deck.

Stass couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before her. "You know, you really should have thought twice before trashing the yacht, Trevor."

Trevor shot her a mock glare. "Thanks for the sympathy, Stass."

Stass shrugged as she watched Trevor walk out the door and she looked at Quinn with amusement. "What a drama queen."

"Right." Quinn sighed in annoyance and threw himself on the couch next to Stass. "You excited for Michigan? You'll be with Lukey now, like you guys always wanted."

"Yeah but I'm kinda nervous." Stass shrugged as she turned her attention Quinn. "Everyone over there looks intimidating, you know? Like what if my roommate hates me or I can't make any friends or something."

Quinn gave her a reassuring smile. "Stass, you're going to do great. You're smart, funny, and easy to get along with. Not a lot of people can say that and plus, you've got that charm that wins people over. You'll be the life of the party in no time."

Stass chuckled, nudging Quinn playfully. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Hughes."

Quinn rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. "But seriously, don't worry too much. College is just a new chapter, and you'll adapt like you always do. Besides, you'll have Luke there, and I'm sure you'll make friends in no time."

"Yeah, you're right," Stass admitted, feeling a bit more at ease. "I guess I just need to embrace the change, right? No parents or anything telling me what to do."

"Right, but don't do anything stupid." Quinn added with a raised eyebrow, a hint of a protective older brother tone in his voice. Even though you'd known him a short span of time, he's grown up with you and Trevor so he was like family.

Stass laughed, recognizing the concern. "Don't worry, Quinn, I won't go too crazy. I'll save the wild shit for Trevor."

Quinn smirked. "Good call. Trevor's got that covered."

Before Stass could respond, she heard footsteps and talking behind her. Jack and Luke joined them in the living room as they settled onto the couch.

Jack flashed a grin at Stass as he flopped on the other side of Stass. "What's all this talk about going wild, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna get fucked up every single night and it's gonna be so fun." Stass exaggerated as she spoke, earning a scoff from Quinn and a few laughs from Luke and Jack.

Quinn shook his head in mock disapproval. "Oh great, just what I need, another Zegras causing trouble."

Stass grinned mischievously, enjoying the banter with her friends. "Hey, blame Trevor for starting all this craziness. You know me, I have one up Trev."

Luke chuckled, leaning back comfortably. "Take it easy, Stass. College isn't just about partying, you know."

"Oh shut the fuck up, I see your snapchat story. You're always at a part-"

Stass's words were interrupted by a burst of laughter from Luke, who raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, guilty as charged. But you know me, I work hard and play hard."

Jack joined in with a chuckle, nodding in agreement as Stass rolled her eyes. "Yeah, let's not pretend like we're all saints here."

Quinn shook his head, a fond exasperation evident in his expression. "Alright, alright, let's not get carried away. We all know Trevor is the most insane one."

They all hummed in agreement. As the laughter subsided, Luke glanced at Stass with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Hey, speaking of playing hard, how about you and I go get some food? There's a 24-hour diner just a few blocks away."

Stass' eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "Oh, hell yeah. I could totally go for some pancakes right now."

Jack and Luke exchanged glances before Luke got up from the couch. "Okay, I'll drive."

"Don't stay out too late, guys." Quinn warned with a playful yet genuine tone, a hint of concern in his voice. The late hour didn't seem to scare Stass and Luke, who were already on their way to the door.

"Don't worry, I know if anything happened to Stass, Trev'll kill me." Luke assured him as they headed towards the door.

Jack leaned back on the couch, watching them go with a conflicted expression. "Bring me back some fries if they have any, okay?"

Stass chuckled over her shoulder. "Of course, Jack."

They walked out of the house and went to Luke's car, getting in quickly. Luke turned on the car and backed out of the garage, soon driving to the diner.

"So, pancakes, huh?" Luke grinned as he drove on the empty road.

Stass laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "Pancakes, waffles, maybe even some milkshakes if they have them, I'm just hungry."

As they cruised down the quiet streets, the neon sign of the 24-hour diner came into view, casting a warm glow against the night. Luke parked the car, and they stepped into the warmth of the diner.

The scent of comfort food filled the air as they settled into a booth, menus in hand. Stass scanned the options, her eyes lighting up at the array of breakfast foods.

"So, you excited for Michigan?" Luke put down the menu to look at Stass, a smile playing on his lips.

"Very. Excited to meet your friends 'cus you can't stop talking about them, they seem fun." Stass replied, returning Luke's smile with enthusiasm. She set her menu aside, her excitement evident in her eyes.

"They're definitely interesting." He laughed as he laid back into the booth. "Hey, I missed you." Luke spoke quietly as Stass stared back, trying to decipher his expression.

"I missed you too, Luke." She smiled back nervously. There was a new type of tension in the air as she gazed back at him. "So..."

Luke's expression softened, his gaze gentle as he reached across the table to touch her hand. "I just wanted to say it, you know? Before everything changes."

"Nothing's gonna change, Luke. We're still gonna be friends and it'll be fun, if anything." Stass returned the smile but she couldn't help but notice Luke's expression change.

"Yeah, friends."

She's been friends with Luke, Jack and Quinn for three years now and they've all grown to have a special place in her heart. But as she glanced at Luke, she couldn't shake the sense of unease that lingered in the air, the unspoken tension between them tugging at her heartstrings. Despite her reassurances, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted.

──

Luke let out a laugh as his head fell back on the lawn chair, a beer bottle in his hand. They were on the lake and they were drinking, all while Trevor, Jack and Quinn were inside making some food. As they relaxed on the lakeshore, the worries of the world faded into the background, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

She could feel the alcohol stir in her stomach as she spoke. "Hey, Luke. Wanna go for a swim?"

"Now?" Luke replied as he stared back, her expression serious. It was late at night but it was still warm. "Fuck it, why not?"

Stass laughed and stood up from the chair, taking off her shirt, leaving her just in her bikini. Luke swallowed as he stood up, watching her. Luke's gaze lingered on Stass, a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes as she stood before him in her bikini. He felt a rush of warmth spread through him, the alcohol adding to the haze of the summer night.

Stass turned around with a smirk, and Luke's heart skipped a beat. "Ready?"

"Born ready," he replied, matching her smirk.

With a shared laugh and a moment of anticipation, they plunged into the lake, the cool water enveloping them in a refreshing embrace. As they swam beneath the starlit sky, the worries of the world melted away, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment. With each stroke, they felt the weight of the world lift from their shoulders, leaving nothing but the freedom of the open water.

"It's nice in the water." Luke spoke as he swam near her, keeping afloat.

Stass nodded in agreement, the water glistening in the moonlight as she swam beside him. "Yeah, it's so peaceful out here." She let out a giggle as her head fell back.

"How many beers have you had?" Luke asked, a laugh escaping his mouth as he watched her.

Stass grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hmm, I lost count after the third one. But who's counting anyway?"

Luke chuckled, the sound blending with the gentle lapping of the water against their bodies. "Well, as long as you can still swim straight," he teased, his tone light and teasing.

Stass rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, a grin playing at the corners of her lips. "Please, I'm practically a mermaid at this point," she retorted, her laughter echoing.

They swam lazily, the water embracing them in its cool quiet. The night air carried their laughter as they floated, creating ripples on the lake's surface.

Luke laughed, his gaze lingering on Stass as she floated effortlessly in the water. "A tipsy mermaid, maybe."

Stass splashed water playfully in Luke's direction, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey, watch it, or I might just drag you down with me."

"I'd like to see you try-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Stass jumped on Luke sent them both splashing into the water with a loud splash. Luke sputtered as water engulfed him, his laughter mingling with Stass's drunken giggles.

They resurfaced, shaking the water from their hair and faces, their laughter echoing across the tranquil surface of the lake. They both rose up, laughing loudly. Stass' arms were wrapped around Luke's shoulders as they laughed. As they caught their breaths, silence took over as they stared back at each other. A silence took over within them as they gazed at one another, noticing how close they were with one another.

In that moment, the air crackled with a tension that neither Stass nor Luke could ignore. The laughter faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their breathing and the gentle lapping of the water against their bodies.

Stass felt her heart pound in her chest, the weight of Luke's gaze stirring something deep within her. Luke's expression softened, his gaze tracing the curve of Stass's face with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. In that suspended moment, time seemed to stand still, leaving only the two of them in a world of their own.

Without a word, Luke reached out, his hand brushing against Stass's cheek with a feather-light touch. His touch sent a jolt of warmth coursing through her, igniting a fire that burned bright within her soul. Stass' breath caught in her throat as she leaned closer, her heart racing with anticipation.

Luke slowly leaned in, Stass' eyes closing as their lips met in a soft kiss. They both stayed like that for a few moments before the kiss slowly became more passionate, Luke's hands gripped her hips as they kissed.

And on the shore, Jack watched, a conflicted expression on his face as he watched his best friend's sister and his brother make out in the lake. He couldn't help but feel jealous as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him. His gaze lingered on Stass and Luke, their silhouettes illuminated by the moonlight as they kissed in the water. Jack couldn't tear his eyes away, his heart heavy with the weight of realization.

A mixture of surprise, confusion, and a twinge of envy danced across Jack's features. He had known Stass for years, and Luke was not only his brother but also one of his best friend. For so long, he had watched Stass and Luke's friendship blossom, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. He had always admired the easy bond between them, the way they laughed and confided in each other without any worry. But as he watched them now, locked in an embrace that spoke of something deeper, Jack couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy gnawing at his heart.

He had never imagined that their relationship would evolve into something more, something that threatened to change the dynamics of their friendship forever. A part of him wanted to look away, to pretend that he hadn't seen what he had seen. But another part of him couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't ignore the undeniable truth that lay before him. Luke had gotten to Stassie before he could.

"Shit." Jack ripped his eyes away as he mumbled, turning back to the house.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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commander-rahrah · 8 months

Text

Talking to the Moon

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~5000 (haha.. whoops) Warnings: slightly suggestive for a tiny moment but SFW, swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

Summary: Set in early Act II. Reader/Tav's origin of their powers is revealed to the party and there is a negative reaction to it. Astarion attempts to comfort reader with his usual routine and provide a "distraction" but gets rejected. He begins to question their own reasoning and feelings, and realizing that he might be feeling something… different.

Note: This is still a GN!Reader/Tav in second perspective with no names or y/n. However, there is some backstory (noble background and a deity) and appearance descriptors (only freckles and hair colour) assigned to the reader/Tav. I really enjoy the dynamic of the moon/stars that I have with my own Tav named Olympia and Astarion and for this particular idea I wrote I felt the backstory was too important to leave out!

I am an avid D&D player and I loooove making OCs (its a problem I have like 30) but this particular backstory and character that this is based off of is very dear to me, so I really hope your enjoy!

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

You were all gathered on the grounds just outside of the Last Light Inn, heading back inside the main doors with Jaheira and Isobel. The safe haven protected from the forces of the Absolute — thanks to you and your companions quick action. The remaining Tieflings and the other inhabitants of the inn still shaken from the sudden attack, but resting safely inside. “I’m thankful you were all here to stop the attack.” The cleric of Selûne said softly.

Isobel then looked over her shoulder at you, stopping for a moment as she looked you over from head to toe. “And you... I recognize my goddess’s powers within you — but they are so different from mine. Your magic is not born out of devotion for her.”

“What is she talking about?” Shadowheart asked from your side, whipping her head to you so fast her black braid flung out behind her.

You swallowed. You had been dreading this conversation. Fearing the moment it came out. “Yes, I, uh—,” You stumbled over your words, your tongue suddenly heavy in your mouth. “I was blessed by Selûne as a babe.”

Isobel raised her eyebrows, her lips stretching into a slight smile. “A blessing indeed. A drop of Selûne's own powers lives within you. You use it well.”

You bowed your head, your cheeks flushing a bright shade. Embarrassment and chagrin flooding you as every single member of your party turned to face you — varying reactions on all of them.

You eyes were still on your boots as both Isobel and Jaheira bid you a goodnight, telling you of your own rooms upstairs before disappearing amongst the many doors of the inn. The rest of your party quiet — not even Astarion had opened his mouth to fill the silence with a comment or joke.

The voice who broke it was the one you had dreaded the most. Shadowheart’s voice was a harsh whisper, but it still cut you deeply. “I cannot believe you. You’ve been lying to me this whole time!”

You winced, your teeth biting into your cheek, “I wasn’t lying. I just… didn’t tell you.”

“You just didn’t tell me that you are blessed with divine magic from my goddess’ enemy.” The dark-haired cleric scoffed, her nose crinkling so much that the scar across her face shrank considerably.

You thought of all the nights around the campfire sharing soft laughs, the early mornings that you helped braid her hair. This was why you had been avoiding it. You didn't want to lose that. Shadowheart had become a friend, an ally. “I didn’t want to ruin anything, we’ve grown so close and… it’s not like I worship her. I don’t say my prayers to her every night, I was just a babe—“

“Well I do!” She raised her voice, a few passing Harper’s stirring in shock at the outburst before shuffling away. “In Shar’s name. This is unbelievable — I’ve been mere feet away from you this whole time.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But you kept your devotion to Shar a secret and when it did come out all of us have been nothing but accepting.” Your eyebrows were furrowed together in worry. This was going exactly as you had dreaded. You’d hope your friendship would be something she would consider however…

“Alsoooo,” Astarion drawled, “The last time you had a disagreement with one of us, we woke up to you holding a knife to Lae'zel’s neck. Can you really blame them for not bringing it up?” He wagged his fingers at her, a single white brow raised.

Her nostrils flared as she flashed a look to the vampire, before turning back to you. “This is no disagreement. This is wrong, this is against everything my lady stands for."

“Shadowheart, please. You are my friend—“ You began to beg, but the cleric cut you off.

“No. Not anymore. We will continue to travel together to reach Moonrise Towers. We will get rid of these tadpoles and then we are done.” She spat.

“I—,” You choked, unable to think of what else to say. How else to defend yourself. You realized that Shadowheart’s mind was made up, no matter what you said right now.

“Shadowheart,” Astarion cut in again, stepping in front of you almost protectively. “Enough.” His voice a low growl.

Gale and Wyll stepped forward too, concern etched on their face. Karlach’s own features were torn — her eyes flitting between you and Shadowheart with immense worry. Lae'zel remained in the back, her muscular arms crossed over her chest as she observed silently.

The dark haired cleric shook her head, a loud breath escaping her before she stormed off up the stairs. Her armor and weapons clanking loudly as she stormed away.

“Princess, come on!” Karlach shouted after her, starting up the stairs. But she paused for a moment, stretching out to grab your elbow gently. “It’ll be alright giggles, ok? Don’t worry about it.”

You could only nod as you watched the Tiefling chase after her, both of them disappearing upstairs.

“Well, that was hard to watch.“ Wyll murmered, offering you a pained smile.

You waited for the sound of a door slamming above, before turning to head up the stairs yourself. You felt your throat tighten as you fought to keep your tears at bay. "Today was a lot. I think I’m just going to find my room now.” You barely waved goodbye as you took the worn steps two at a time, disappearing from your group without a backwards glance as a few tears broke free.

“Wait, do you need—“ Gale began to trail behind you, his brows knitted together and face pained.

“Let them be, Gale.” Astarion waved a hand to stop him pursing you up the stairs. “Let them drop the mask for a while. If you go barging in there right away, they will paint a smile on their face and act like everything is fine.”

A look of surprise crossed his face before the wizard let his shoulders slump, “You’re right.”

A sound of delight escaped the vampire, before he cupped his pale fingers around his pointed ear, “I beg your pardon, could you say that again? I didn’t hear you.”

Gale let out a large huff, before he admitted “I said you’re right. I’ll let them be.”

“Oooh, Gale. If you’re trying to woo me, at least buy me dinner first.” Astarion pretended to twirl his hair, before flashing him a wicked grin.

Gale pushed his face into a palm, letting out another exasperated sound. “Gods, save me.”

• • •

You were sat on the bed, your back pressed into the back of the headboard with your knees pressed to your chest. It had been a few hours before the tears had finally stopped, leaving you feeling even more exhausted and drained. You weren’t sure when the news of what lived inside you would come out — but it went exactly as you feared it had. The betrayal and anger on Shadowheart’s face was repeating over and over in your mind. The rest of your party had seemed accepting… but it was hard to tell what exactly they were thinking.

A sudden knock at your door had you scrambling to right yourself, wiping at your damp cheeks and eyes with the back of your hands. You fixed your shirt, and stretched out your legs to look as if you were just relaxing on the bed before letting out, “Come in.”

Your voice sounded much more meek than intended.

Astarion poked his head through the door, a strange combination of both hesitation and curiosity painted across his pale face. “Hello pet,” He purred, lingering in the door way for a moment.

“Astarion, hi.” You sat up a little straighter, surprised to see him. “Come in.”

He shut the door softly behind him, “Feeling any better? Or did Shadowheart come find you for an encore?”

You shook your head, “No, she’s stayed in her room — thank the gods. I don’t think I could handle another moment like that tonight.”

His eyes betrayed him for a moment, glancing to the floor, “Yes, well usually I would say it’s entertaining watching someone else’s drama unfold… but I didn’t enjoy that.”

He swayed over to the bed, sitting on the edge. Not close enough to touch, but you couldn’t help the small fluttering that erupted in your belly as he sat next to you. How casual it seemed, how easy it had become.

You shoved the thought away, instead scrunching your mouth up as you spoke, “I was avoiding it for a reason. I feel terrible... I shouldn't have hidden it for so long.”

“Well, if you were looking for a distraction…” He stretched his hand over to you and drew lazy circles on your knee before dragging it up to your thigh. “I can be of some assistance.” A seductive smile curved his lips, his eyes darkening.

Your expression crumbled as the crack you had just soothed in your chest starting to form again. “That’s all you see me as, isn’t it?”

“What?” He asked, his hand freezing on your leg.

“Sex. That’s the only way you see me.”

“I—“ His eyes widened with bewilderment, before he blinked at you. “I don’t— I mean.” He continued to stammer, his fanged mouth hanging open in genuine shock.

You let out a sad sigh, your eyebrows furrowing like you were in pain. You were. The ache in your chest was growing tenfold, the familiar feeling of your heart crawling up your throat returning. “I’m not in the mood Astarion. If you want to feed, do it and go.”

He instantly pulled his hand away at your rejection, clutching it to his chest with the other one. He didn’t give an apology, nor did he seem interested in your offer to feed. His red eyes were blinking animatedly, as if confused. Before he bowed his head and got off the bed quickly. Then the sound of the door clicking softly behind him an instant later.

You couldn’t hear his steps in the hall even if you wanted to — so instead you rolled over onto your side, curling your limbs into yourself as you screwed your face up once more and cried.

• • •

Astarion didn’t know what to think. What to do.

No one had ever rejected him before. This is what he did, this is what he was built for. To manipulate. To seduce.

To play the dazzling, charming distraction. He used to target the lonely, the distressed and upset… it made the hunt so much easier. And Cazador used to praise him for it — he said the miserable and desperate tasted so much better.

But you weren’t like those easy targets. You weren’t simple, and he should have known better. You were complex and contradictory — not something he appreciated in a target. But something he could appreciate in a fellow person. Things were becoming to muddled, too confusing.

Gods dammit, he had been so foolish. His entire plan could be falling apart now — you sitting up in your room alone mulling everything over.

But what really bothered him wasn’t the idea of his plan falling apart. That his protection from his old master could be gone by morning, leaving him behind to suffer the consequences.

No, what really bothered him, what he was really afraid of was how upset you’d been. That he was the cause of that.

Astarion's skin felt hot and crawling as he realized he had treated you as others had treated him all these years. Trying to use your desire as a way to override any other feeling. To seduce you into acquiescence, to fool you into thinking you needed only him. It disgusted him, what he’d done. Shame coursed through him and his fingers clenched onto his leather clad knee.

He was grateful for the little dark attic he had found above the barn — grateful to be away from the prying eyes of the rest of the party. He couldn't explain this to them, he wouldn't.

A splash of wet splashed onto the back of his hand and he realized he was crying. He'd forgotten he could do that. He'd stopped so many years ago, numbing and willing himself so that none would come. So that despite the pain or hurt he was feeling, his tears would not be there to give Cazador anymore satisfaction. His master didn't need anymore physical evidence of his anguish — his screams and blood and broken body was enough. He had stopped crying years ago. Until tonight.

Wiping his face, he took a steadying breath he knew he didn't need. And then again for good measure. He wasn't really sure what he was doing, but he stood up with a slightly trembling body. He needed to fix this. For you. For himself.

Before he knew it he was back outside of your door, his fist hovering just above the painted wood. His other hand was picking at the seam of the side of his leather pants nervously. His red eyes stared at the little tray of food he'd brought up for you — resting on the hallway table as he waited to see if you would even let him in. A peace offering he'd thought. A way to get his foot in the door before he could… explain. Apologize.

Chewing his lip, he finally let his knuckles rap on the door. He lingered for a moment, before opening it slightly. The small crack in the door angled enough to reveal you still laid in the bed, your back to the door as you were curled up on the mattress. Guilt flooded through him all over again.

“Gale, I told you I’m fine—"

He pushed the door open a little more, just enough so that is creaked to get your attention. He only poked his head through, enough for you to see his pale face as you strained your neck to look over your shoulder.

“Oh. It’s you.”

Astarion swallowed at the sound of your disappointment. It was not something he ever wished to hear again if he could. His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he looked down, unable to look you in the eye, “Will you let me try again?”

“What?”

He finally looked up, his red eyes round and soft, “Let me try again.”

You gave him a hard to read look, before nodding curtly.

Astarion grabbed the door, not closing it fully but just enough that the lock bounced softly back. His pale knuckles knocked again gently, before he heard you let out an exasperated breath. “Come in.”

A sheepish, tight lipped smile spread across his face as he stepped fully into the room and looked at you. You were sitting up in the bed now, your arms crossed over yourself with an unimpressed look on your face. He used his foot to close the door quietly as he held his peace offering behind him.

“I won’t bother you, if you don’t want company. But I noticed you hadn’t eaten. I brought you dinner.” He pulled the tray out from behind his back, showing it to you.

“Oh.”

“And a glass of wine.” He placed everything carefully onto the nightstand, before backing away towards the door. “It’s disgusting.”

A soft laugh escaped you, “Thank you." You took a small sip of the wine, before twisting your face. “Ugh — you are right, that is disgusting.”

“I’m almost certain I saw those Tiefling children your so fond of mixing it themselves. Pray this is a part time gig and they don’t become bartenders in the future.”

The two of you let snickers out through your noses, before the room turned quiet again. “Thank you for bringing this up. I mean it.”

“You’re very welcome.” He shuffled his feet, unsure if that was a dismissal or not. But he also found himself not wanting to leave. His hands were behind his back, his own fingers intertwining and squeezing tightly. “I’m… I’m sorry for how you were treated today. It wasn’t fair.”

Your eyes flashed down, your brow crinkling. “It’s okay—“

Astarion shook his head profusely, “No, it’s not. You didn’t deserve that. You don’t owe any of us anything — not your story, or … or anything else. What you decide to tell us, what you trust us with... that is your choice.”

“Thank you. It’s not that I don’t trust you all, I do… I just.”

He cut you off gently, “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I know.” Your finger was playing with the rim of the wine glass in mesmerizing circles, over and over. “I do, trust you though.”

His red eyes lifted from your hands, to give you a quizzical look, “Now, why in the heavens would you do that?”

Your laugh was music to his ears. Full and bright. You shrugged, putting the glass back onto the nightstand — abandoning it and the dinner for another moment. “I just do.”

The vampire couldn't stop the purr that escaped his lips, “Hmmm, other members of our merry party would disapprove.”

“Probably. I think they disapprove of most of my interactions with you.” You said quietly, picking at the blanket you were sat upon.

The room filled with silence for a moment as you thought. “I was just a baby… when it happened. I was born ill — so weak and tired, it was almost like I was a dead. My parents threw all of their power and wealth at every scholar and healer they knew to try and cure me.”

Astarion’s eyebrows shot up as you spoke, joining you carefully on the bed. Much further then his previous visit. His hands settled onto his own lap as he listened.

“Nothing would work. And with every failed attempt, father become more and more distant. And mother became more and more desperate, hoping for any miracle she could find. She began to pray to any God that would listen, traveling to their shrines and statues. One night, my mother had fallen asleep crying while kneeling next to me. She said she awoke to a breeze and silver light — and the most beautiful woman she had ever seen was standing over us. Her hair was set in long silver waves, a flowing dress cascading over her curves, and a small smile on her lips as she watched the scene of mother and child. 'Selûne?' My mother asked, and the ethereal woman merely smiled again. 'I heard your prayers and felt your tears as if they were mine own. No mother should know the loss of their child.' As I slept, she touched my hair lightly, telling my mother I was pure and good-hearted. Selûne told her that she would help me, but that I would have a calling that would lead me away from my normal life of nobility and comfort. After my mother agreed, a white light shone through the Goddess’ hand, spreading into my hair, into my body and creating an aura around me. My hair turned silvery white, and star-like freckles began to shine all over my skin.” Your fingertips danced across your face, touching the skin that showed the blessing.

Astarion was gobsmacked, his eyes lingering over your silver hair and the freckles that dusted your nose and cheeks. His mind struggling to keep up with the information. “So, what Isobel said is true… a drop of Selûne's power lives in you?”

You nodded your head weakly, avoiding his stare.

“Gods… Why tell me this?”

You only offered a soft smile, “I wanted you to know.”

A thousand thoughts were running through his mind — most of them selfish. He'd prayed to the Gods every night for years, asking, begging, willing them to save him. To give him a swift death. Anything. And never received an answer back. But Selûne had for you.

But now that he knew you, he could think of no one else who would deserve it. He couldn't bare to think what the world would have been like if you had been taken away so early. Where he would be now if he hadn't met you on the cliffside after that damn ship. “Well, it seems that you truly are walking poetry, darling. Our little moon shining a light on all of us.”

He swore he saw you bottom lip tremble at the name.

"Let me tell the others, when I'm ready?" You asked quietly.

"Of course."

The room fell into silence again, but it was more comfortable then before. Astarion found himself lost in his thoughts — a confusing melody of haunting memories, and wishful thoughts.

“You never answered my question before.”

“Hmm?” Your voice had him blinking back to reality, turning his body to look over at you.

“About… how you see me.” Your eyes were big and vulnerable. They tugged at his heart, at the knot in his stomach that formed with the thought of you.

“Oh," Was all he could get out.

“I—I just,” Your voice was feint and nervous, your eyes studying the features of his face intently.

“Don’t ask now.” He blurted, his fingers clenching into a tight fist on his lap.

“What?”

“Give me time. Please.” He begged gently.

Your eyes softened, before you nodded in silent understanding. “I can do that.”

Relief flooded him, his fingers relaxing and shoulders drooping.

You seemed content on letting it drop, instead grabbing the plate of food next to you and balancing it on your knee. “Where is my roommate for the evening?” You asked, before taking a bite.

“Lae'zel? Oh she deemed the lodgings unacceptable and that she would rather die than join us soft-skinned weaklings in a room. She set up a tent out front in the dirt.”

You finished chewing, before grinning. “That… checks out.”

“So you get a luxurious evening alone. At least one of us does." He feigned a frown, before waving his hands dramatically, "I get to spend the night listening to Gale and Wyll snore.” He rolled his eyes before speaking again. "I will say charming Wyll did volunteer to sleep on the floor so I could have half the bed, bless him.”

“You could stay here if you want. To sleep, I mean.” You offered easily, pushing the food around your plate with the fork as you waited for him to reply.

He blinked again, caught off guard by your proposal. “Oh, that’s not necessary—“

“Astarion, really? You’ll share with Gale, but not with me?” You teased, a single eyebrow arching.

He stared at you for a moment, dumbfounded before nodding, “Alright. Eat your dinner. I’ll get my things.”

• • •

Slinking into his room, Astarion left out a sigh of relief as he realized it was empty. He needed a moment to ground himself and stop his spinning head. He had no idea what today would bring, but this whirlwind of a night was not at all what he had expected. He started grabbing his night clothes he had laid out on the bed in his shared room with Wyll and Gale, stuffing them into his rucksack.

But he bristled as he heard steps approaching, looking over his shoulder to see his two fellow male companions enter the room.

“Ahhh, they you are Astarion. We wondered where you scurried off too.” The wizard spoke, tucking the book he had in his hands into the crook of his arm instead.

“Oh, I found better company than the likes of you.” He shot back sarcastically — earning an eye roll from Gale.

“Did you now?” The warlock asked with eyebrows raised, before bending down to his own pack to untie his bedroll from it.

“Don’t bother with the bed roll tonight, Wyll. You’ll have to keep Gale warm tonight.”

"Where are you off too?" Gale asked, his brows furrowed.

Wyll studied him carefully, before offering a little smirk to the vampire. “Off to sleep under the stars?”

“Amongst them actually.” Astarion replied, keeping his face perfectly neutral. As if to not give anything away.

Wyll gave him a knowing look. “You be a gentleman, yeah?”

“Aren’t I always?” He said with a little bow before grabbing his bag and slinking out of the room.

• • •

Your room was very quiet when he emerged back in it. Your empty dinner plate was sat on the edge of the nightstand, the glass of wine mostly untouched expect for that first single sip. The candles were starting to flicker with their last remaining life, the glow now a deep set orange instead of a bright yellow light.

You had stepped behind the privacy screen as you changed, only the outline of your figure could be seen through the sheer material stretched across the wood. He’d seen your naked body before, as you’d seen his — several times by now, actually. But he respected the privacy — appreciated it actually. There was something quite raw about getting undressed in front of someone like this. Something vulnerable.

Something he wasn’t quite ready for.

Realizing he had been staring at that screen and your outline, he sat his bag down on the dresser and began sorting through his things. He heard the soft pads of your feet across the worn floorboards, before the creak of the bed as you laid in it. He turned around with a fake cough, his own night clothes in his pale hands. “May I?” He jerked his head towards the screen.

You simply nodded, turning on your side away from the screen to face the ajar window instead.

He changed efficiently, tugging on the delicate breezy nightclothes before padding bare feet to place his folded clothes on top of his rucksack. He swallowed thickly as he turned to survey the room, to the large space you left in the double bed — intended for him.

"I don't bite." You muttered with your eyes still closed. Like you could sense him hesitating.

He barked a laugh, before moving to his side. "Cheeky pup." He slid into the bed, savoring the feeling of the soft sheets on his skin, the way the mattress hugged his tired and sore body. He hadn't slept in a real bed in ages, in well — he couldn't remember how long. He thought he had gotten used to the small comfort of his bed roll and tent these past weeks, especially when he compared it to the stone floor of Cazador's dungeon and kennels. But remembering the simple luxury of this room and bed would put his tent to shame once he returned to it. His pale fingertips rubbed the soft fabric covering his body, committing to memory.

You adjusted yourself next to him, moving your pillow in a way that wafted your scent throughout the room. It made his movements stop, frozen as his senses were overwhelmed by you. You smelled sweet and warm — inviting. And it had nothing to do with the scent of your bouquet that usually clouded his mind. Licking his lips, he forced himself to look away from you — instead looking up at the dark ceiling, as the last flickers of the surviving candle in the room began to fade away.

"Good night, Astarion." You mumbled into your pillow, your voice already sounding heavy with sleep.

"Sweet dreams darling." He whispered back.

You had fallen asleep next to each other before, of course — laid out in that forest or on the sands of a beach after wondering off away from the others to have your way with each other.

This... this was different.

He couldn’t will himself to fall into a trance. No matter how hard he tried. Instead he was still staring up at the grays and blacks of the dark ceiling, becoming more and more increasingly aware of your breaths and the thrum of your heartbeat.

Only once he had heard them slow down, only once he knew you were in a deep sleep, did he chance looking over to you.

Your face was peaceful, serene as you slept. He wasn’t sure if it was actual moonlight trickling in, or just the cleric Isobel’s protective aura that had cast the blueish white light into the room. But either way it was resulted in Selûne’s power, and even in your sleep you were basking in it. The freckles that marked your checks and nose were almost glittering in the light. The silvery white of your hair shimmering. Your soft lips slightly parted as you dreamed.

Gods, you were beautiful.

Astarion closed his eyes as he was suddenly reminded of his times stuck in those wretched dungeons in the palace. Not what torture or pain he had to endure there. No. For once, that was buried away.

No, instead he recalled what he stared at to get him through those never ending sessions of abuse and torment.

The night sky through those barred windows.

The stars, somehow still blinking and winking from him through the city smoke and light.

And the moon. That beacon of light in the black sky — constantly changing its shape and colour. But it was always there when he needed it to be. When he needed to look up, to be somewhere else, to think of something else — the moon was always there.

Shining. Listening. Understanding.

His eyes opened again, staring again at your tranquil face, your slumbering form curled into the soft bed and sheets.

You were so much more than he had bargained for. A companion blessed with a drop of an actual god’s power. He should have been thrilled — that his plans for protection and well-deserved justice on Cazador was even easier to achieve than he first thought.

No. Instead he realized he was feeling something else. Something… new.

That even though he had missed the sun, longed for it for two hundred years, delighted in the colours it cast the world in it. That even though he could finally enjoy the sun's beam, and bask in the it's warmth and golden glow. Despite all that, he knew that the sun would never understand him like the moon did.

Oh shit.

He had royally fucked up his plan.

Part II: here

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion/reader #astarion/tav

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Note

Hi I saw your Astarion x Tav HC recs are open and personally my Tav is a half elf Selûnite cleric.

I just think its a really sweet matchup- a vampire, a creature of the night, and a cleric that always preferred the night to the day. I’m forever mad that we don’t get to tell him that we prefer the moon to the sun when he apologizes for the fact that he’ll never be able to spend time in the sun with Tav.

Just my two cents I needed to share with someone haha

(can't stop thinking about Astarion praying to Selune. I don't think he will become a devoted selunite but he can find some faith within him)

The text of the prayer comes from Selûnite Prayer Book

Astarion x Cleric of Selûne! Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion is beaten and tortured.

His flesh wounds bleed and his bones are broken.

It's a neverneding hell he can't escape, because he is already dead.

Silently, Astarion prays.

His split lips whisper the words of prayer he once heard in a temple.

Dearest Selûne, our fair maiden, weave our hearts with threads of silver, guide us with the light of the moon, and quench us with the purest of tears.

Astarion doesn't have much hope.

Besides Selûne a human goddess, and Elven gods have long abandoned him.

But-

His prayers are heard this time.

A human woman suddenly feels the urge to go outside. There she meets a young elf - and spends a night with him.

She never asks his name and, in the morning, they part ways forever.

But the woman doesn't leave alone.

She carries a half-elf child in her belly.

Probably, the woman never wanted to have a child, maybe she doesn't want to have a mixed baby or she simply can't care about the newborn.

Or maybe she dies at childbirth like many women do.

Anyway, a little half-elf finds their family among the Clerics of Selûne.

You grow up, knowing no other family but your brothers and sisters in Selune.

With a very firm belief, you are born to serve Our Lady of Silver.

Eventually, you are sent to Baldur's Gate - to join the fight against the Shar adepts.

But you never manage to get to the city as the Mindflayers kidnap you.

Astarion lost all his faith years ago and he doesn't remember ever praying to Selûne, though seeing someone so devoted rubs him the wrong way.

Gods never heard him when he was tortured and abused. Why bother?

But you catch his attention. Maybe it's your willpower, your leadership skills. Maybe your looks. You kind nature.

At first, you are scared of Astarion. Selûne condemns the undead and necromancy - vampires are considered the pure evil who desecrate the world.

But-

No one objects that Cazador is a monster. But Astarion?

He is a thinking feeling creature! He didn't choose this "pure shit". What are you supposed to do him?

No. You know the answer, though some of your sisters would consider it heresy.

Astarion has a choice. If he chooses the path of evil, you will be his enemy. You are a Cleric. You know what is right.

But should he choose a good path, you will be on his side.

And you will do anything in your power to help him.

You give Astarion you blood. You give him your body. Your compassion, your kindness.

You mention him in your prayers.

Astarion doesn't say anything to you about your faith but you know he isn't fond of it.

"I prayed to all the gods, including the Moonmaiden. No one saved me."

You made a deal, as people of different religious views do. He respects your faith, you respect his right not to have one.

Post-game you keep being a Cleric planning on rising through the ranks in the church.

You are a half-elf - you inherited ambitions from your human ancestors.

Astarion is still hesitant - he doesn't want you to spend your life in shadows with him.

"Astarion, I am a Cleric of Selûne, not of Latander. I love night more than day and the Moon more than the Sun. I will be fine"

You will forever remember the shock on his face as he realizes Moon shines for the undead, too.

You travel, helping the Selûnites to restore their organization.

One day during your prayer you notice Astarion standing on his knees with his hands in a gesture of adoration repeating the words after you.

Shadows taunt us. Hear our prayer! Shadows stalk us. Hear our prayer! Shadows wound us. Hear our prayer!

He mostly does it because he knows you like it.

You like when he joins you in your rituals and prayers, when he visits temples with you.

It makes you happy seeing him praying and he does it more and more often.

But one day a weird idea comes to his mind.

He prayed to Selûne once. Many years ago. After one especially brutal torture.

What if-

What if she heard him?

What if she sent him his savior? Her servant, her cleric, her devoted Selûnite?

What if is this half-elf he loves so much, whose body he worships, whose blood is so divine - is the answer?

You wake up to him kissing you. His face is red with tears and he mutters the words of gratitude.

From that day, he changes a bit. It's not like he is a man of god - he is still too rebellious to be a part of the church.

But every cleric of Selûne knows that Astarion the Undead is the man any Selûnite can rely on.

There are many rituals he can't partake in but as they say - Moon shines for everyone.

Astarion starts wearing the Selûnite light armour which looks very beautiful on him. Together you go into the most dangerous places - because you have your own undead to save you.

And every time you go to sleep (even if before that you've had the wildest sex possible). You pray while holding each other in your arms.

Selûne, thou with radiam loom, mend our hearts with threads of silver, heal us with drops of morning dew, and sooth our souls with softest starglow.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

#spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #astarion x f!tav #half elf tav #selunite tav #selune #cleric tav

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forfucksakesniall · 1 year

Text

"Breaking Point"

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Soft!Reader

Summary: In a world of fame, love, and shattered expectations, Lewis Hamilton and his partner find themselves at a crossroads. With tensions high and emotions raw, their relationship hangs in the balance.

Word Count: 2,519

Trigger warning/Content advisory: Possessiveness, arguments, emotional manipulation, intense emotions, privacy invasion, stalking, emotional conflict, verbal arguments, and intimate moments between characters. Reader discretion is advised.

Masterlist

Lewis Hamilton had another exhausting day with his meetings, leaving you with nothing to do. Bored, you checked your phone for any fun events in the area when suddenly a friend called.

"Where have you been??" she asked, clearly annoyed.

"What do you mean? I've been home all day," you replied, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, just being pampered at home," she retorted.

"Hey! He's not always home, this is our only time together, okay!" you defended yourself.

"Yeah, yeah," she giggled.

She convinced you to go out for dinner and a few drinks. Her argument made sense because you rarely got to spend time with Lewis due to his busy schedule.

You thought, "It's just a few hours. He's out too, and he'll be out late anyway. Maybe going out won't be so bad, right?"

Oh, how wrong you were.

Lewis has always been the archetypal doting boyfriend-overprotective, always watching out for you. Some may find it weird, but to you, it's charming and perfectly acceptable. You understand that his fame attracts unwanted attention from the paparazzi. Now that you're a part of his life, being the private person that he is, it becomes even more challenging for him. The thought of others knowing about you creates anxiety within him. He constantly worries when he doesn't know your whereabouts or how you're doing.

You never want him to worry about you or add to the stress he already feels from his work. You make an effort to stay out of the public eye and avoid drawing attention online. However, people always manage to find a way.

Once, when you went out to buy groceries, they somehow discovered where you lived and began stalking you near your apartment. Since Lewis would always come over to hang out. When Lewis found out about it, he insisted that you move in with him to prevent any further incidents from happening.

But ever since that, You could proudly say that you've been quite successful in keeping a low profile these past few weeks.

You carefully picked a secluded spot that would shield you from any curious gazes.

As you prepared for dinner, you chose a delightful outfit and adorned yourself with some charming jewelry, courtesy of Lewis. You applied a touch of natural makeup and styled your hair with care. Just before leaving, you almost forgot to text Lewis that you were going out, but you remembered how easily he worries. So, you just grabbed your purse and headed out.

Your friends arrived to pick you up, and together you went on your date night to the restaurant, eager for a delightful night.

After what felt like an eternity, you were having the most incredible night. It was a blissful escape from the daily routine, surrounded by ambient music and a crowd of people absorbed in their own affairs.

Phone rings, displaying Lewis's name

Lewis: Hey, baby, our plans might wrap up sooner than anticipated. Want me to pick up dinner for us? 10:30pm

Lewis: I'll grab our favorite vegan dishes from that spot we tried last week. 10:45pm

Lewis: Are you busy? 10:57pm

Lewis: Baby?? 11:10pm

Missed call from Lewis (1)

Missed calls from Lewis (3)

You had become completely engrossed in the joyous moments, losing track of time. When you attempted to check the time on your phone, it refused to open. "Oh no," you exclaimed, a shiver running down your spine and draining the blood from your face. Your friends noticed your distressed voice and asked about the issue. "My phone died," you replied, filled with worry.

Lewis parked his car and hastened to your shared apartment, a sense of unease enveloping him as you failed to answer your phone. Trying to stay optimistic, he hoped that you had simply fallen asleep or were occupied in the bathroom. As he swung open the apartment door, he called out your name with a tinge of anxiety in his voice. "Baby? I'm home!" he exclaimed. He searched the kitchen, then the bedroom, followed by the bathroom, and finally the balcony, but you were nowhere to be found.

After pleading with your friends for a ride and insisting on not taking a cab alone, you finally arrived at your apartment. Countless thoughts raced through your mind.

What if Lewis has been trying to reach you and you haven't responded?

What if he's already home?

Or what if he's not here yet, but right behind you?

You pondered the worst-case scenarios, but little did you know, things were about to take a turn for the worse. As you stumbled towards the door, searching for your keys and fumbling with your purse, it swung open, revealing Lewis, his face twisted with anger, his jaw tight, and his eyes ablaze with intensity. The air grew heavy with tension as if a storm had materialized right before you, threatening to engulf everything in its path.

"Took you long enough," he commanded sternly, his voice cutting through the air like a sharp blade.

"I didn't know you'd be home early," you responded calmly, trying your best not to trigger any further conflict.

"You would have known if you had stayed where you were supposed to be," he retorted sharply.

"I just needed a break," you admitted your voice barely a whisper, filled with vulnerability.

"You should have told me! Do you have any idea how worried I was?!" His voice grew louder, filled with frustration.

"I went out with my friends, Lewis. I'm fine, really. I came back safely," you assured, attempting to stay composed despite the growing tension. However, your throat began to ache from suppressing your emotions.

"Why didn't you answer your phone? Are you ignoring me on purpose? Are you that sick of having me around? " he questioned, his tone laced with disappointment.

"You know I wouldn't ignore you. Why would you even say that?" Tears welled up in your eyes, fighting hard to prevent them from cascading down your cheeks.

"What then?" he interjected, his voice dripping with impatience. His frustration hung in the air, suffocating any kind of hope.

"Why can't you just be more considerate of my feelings? I give you everything, and all I ask for is a little communication, a little respect."

The weight of his words bore down on you, threatening to shatter the fragile balance between you. You searched for the right words, your mind racing to find a way to bridge the growing tension. But in the depths of your heart felt unsure and hesitant, wavering in your determination, mingling with the ache of the things left unsaid.

"You don't understand," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. "I need space sometimes. I need moments where I can breathe and be myself, without constantly feeling the need to be watched."

His eyes grew cold, a storm brewing within them. "And what about my needs?" he shot back, his voice sharp and cutting. "Are they not important? Am I just supposed to stand by and watch you drift away?"

"That's not what I meant," you hurriedly responded, your voice tinged with unease. "It's not about neglecting your needs, but understanding that I also have my own."

His gaze intensified, his doubts apparent. "What do you think people will say about me being that kind of boyfriend?"

Silence hung heavy between you, the tension pulsating with every passing second. The room seemed to shrink, walls closing in as the weight of unspoken words grew unbearable. Your chest tightened, emotions swirling like a tempest, threatening to unleash a torrent of tears.

"I never wanted it to be like this," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, filled with regret and longing. “We can't keep avoiding this situation where you tell me what to do and expect me to always be doing it. I'm my own person too.

"We'll end up secretly hating and hurting each other."

The weight of truth hung in the air, difficult to accept. Both of you stood at a crucial crossroads, where important choices awaited and raw emotions demanded attention. The room was filled with an intense conflict, a tension that pushed your fragile love to its limits.

Lewis, consumed by anger, seemed oblivious to the hurt he caused with his words. "Damn it," he muttered quietly, avoiding your gaze. Without saying another word, he left the bedroom and retreated to the bathroom.

How could he let himself slip like that? You had been patient, kind, and loving towards him. He knew he was in the wrong, but his overwhelming emotions prevented him from apologizing. Trying to calm himself, he splashed water on his face, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"She doesn't deserve this," he whispered to himself, a decision taking shape in his mind, one that he feared he might regret.

Left bewildered by his sudden departure, your mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts:

Maybe he's finally had enough of your indecisiveness.

Why couldn't you have simply told him where you were going?

Why don't you speak up for yourself more often?

Why do you let things affect you so deeply?

Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed onto the bed.

"Why are you crying? There's no reason to... Don't be so sensitive," you whispered to yourself, drowning in self-doubt. But before negativity consumes your thoughts entirely, his arms embrace you tightly, his head resting atop yours.

"I... I didn't mean any of that..." Lewis stammered, regret evident in his voice. Your emotions were overwhelming, preventing you from articulating the words you desired to say.

"I know I can be overly protective, putting you in difficult situations," Lewis acknowledged in his attempt to alleviate the tension only making matters worse.

"I understand you don't want that, but considering the circumstances, it's necessary," you replied, struggling to find the right words.

"But it shouldn't be..." Lewis hesitated, realizing the weight of his words. "Wouldn't it be better if it didn't have to be this way?"

"What do you mean?" you asked your heart racing, fearing the worst.

"I never wanted to be the one to stop you from your dreams or become an obstacle instead of an opportunity," Lewis confessed, his voice filled with resignation.

Is he breaking up with me? It can't be happening…

A wave of numbness washed over you, bringing a temporary calmness. Your breathing steadied, your trembling hands stilled, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

So that's it…

"Okay," was all you managed to utter, the weight of acceptance heavy in your voice.

With words hanging in the air, a profound silence settled between you and Lewis. The room seemed to hold its breath as if anticipating the next chapter of your story together.

Unable to bear the void any longer, Lewis gently lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. In his eyes, you saw a mix of regret, longing, and a spark of hope. Without speaking a word, he reached out, interlacing his fingers with yours, offering a comforting touch amidst the emotional turmoil.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, (Y/N)," Lewis finally broke the silence, his voice filled with sincerity.

"You mean everything to me, and the thought of me causing you this is unbearable."

A flicker of vulnerability danced across his face, revealing the depth of his emotions. It was a side of him you had rarely witnessed before, reminding you of the fragile nature of love and the complexities that come with it.

Tears welled up in your eyes once again, but this time they held a different quality. They were tears of release, of letting go of the pain that had momentarily consumed you. You realized that, at this moment, you both were allowing yourselves to be vulnerable, to expose your fears and doubts, in the hopes of finding solace in each other's embrace.

You took a deep breath, the weight on your chest easing ever so slightly.

"Lewis, I understand that we both have our struggles and fears. We're trying to get through some unfamiliar issues together."

"But I don't want to lose you," you confessed, your voice steady yet laced with vulnerability.

His strong yet comforting grip embraced you, providing a sense of security amidst the swirling doubts. As his fingers intertwined with yours, a warmth spread through your hand, soothing your troubled heart.

"I don't want to lose you either, (Y/N)," he spoke with conviction, his voice resonating like a melodic whisper. "You're the light of my life, filling my days with endless joy and warmth. I made some mistakes along the way, but I promise to learn from them and grow with you."

In that tender moment, he cradled your face, his touch delicate and gentle. His eyes locked with yours, shimmering with filled promises. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the spark between your lips.

As the intensity of the moment lingered, you felt a wave of emotions crashing over you. The remains of the fight slowly faded, an undeniable pull drew you closer to each other. Slowly, his fingers traced the contour of your cheek, his touch leaving a trail of warmth. With every caress, the tension began to dissolve, replaced by a renewed sense of longing and desire.

Your breaths intertwined, matching the want from each other. A silent agreement to let go of the past and embrace the present moment. His lips, soft and tender, met yours in a gentle kiss, making up all of the emotions that words could never capture.

As the kiss deepened, the flames of passion were ignited, consuming both of you. Lips moved in perfect harmony, exploring each other with increasing hunger and intensity. Your bodies gravitated closer, craving the intimate connection that only this moment could give. Hands roamed, eagerly exploring the contours of each other's bodies, conveying a renewed sense of desire and longing.

You both slowly sank into the softness of the bed, never breaking the intoxicating embrace. The world outside ceased to exist as your bodies melded together, entangled in a passionate dance.

In this moment of vulnerability and surrender, the boundaries between you blurred, and all that remained was the raw and unfiltered expression of love. Each touch, each kiss, became a part of your chapter, the ups, and downs, the fights and reconciliations. And as you surrendered to the intoxicating whirlwind of emotions, you knew that despite the challenges, your love would always triumph, igniting a flame that burned brighter with each passing moment.

The chapter of your love story remained unwritten, the outcome uncertain. But as your gazes locked once more, there was a flicker of hope. It was a silent promise, a shared understanding that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but also with the potential for growth, forgiveness, and a love that could weather any storm.

Disclaimer: The following piece is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 lewis #f1 imagine #f1 fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x you #sir lewis hamilton

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baldurs-simp · 7 months

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Un-Holy (Astarion x Aasimar!Reader)

Summary: Your heritage comes out in the midst of a battle, leaving you to confess your past to Astarion, whom you have developed a strong relationship with.

Warnings: strong language, mild spoilers, aasimar!reader, fluff, written at the spur of the moment while slightly tired, a bunch of rambling in the beginning but shit goes down later on

MY MASTERLIST

You have gone years without a fight until you woke up on the Mind Flayer ship with a tadpole behind your eye. Now, you cannot go a day without fighting for your survival after the ship crashed somewhere near Baldur’s Gate. You are not alone in the fight, however, having met some companions along the way who all share the same affliction you do; the threat of becoming a Mind Flayer.

The first you met was a Gith, Lae’zel, on the ship before it fell, then a Cleric of Shar, Shadowheart. The two don’t see eye to eye, but they keep the peace well enough to not cause a fight within the camp at night. Then you meet the rogue, Astarion, whom you later find out is a vampire after he tried to drink your blood in your sleep. How he’s able to walk in the sun without burning to a crisp is a mystery to everyone, but you think you could be because of the tadpole lurking around in his head. Or perhaps it is the work of the Guardian that visits you in your dreams.

Then you met the wizard from Waterdeep stuck in his portal, Gale. He has his issues. An orb sits in his chest, waiting to explode if it is not sated with magical-infused objects. You normally allow him to consume items that would otherwise be of no use to you. Items that grant you spells that you can already cast. Items useless to you, but not to Gale.

Wyll you had met after defeating a group of goblins that tried to enter the Emerald grove. Meeting him spurred your quest to help the Tieflings being kicked out by the druids. You plan on clearing the way for them, getting rid of goblins that might attack them west of the Blighted Village. Wyll had his quest to hunt down a devil, whom you found, Karlach.

Karlach is nothing like what Wyll had described and they finally came to a consensus to not kill each other. The tiefling that fought in the Blood Wars was only enlisted against her will. And she now joins your party in search of a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpoles.

You feel as if you know everyone in your party, and know somewhat about their past from what they shared with you after bunking down for nights while on the road. Yet, they don’t know a thing about your past. They don’t know who you truly are, or what you really are. But sometimes you think it’s for the better.

Battling the Hobgoblin leader, Dror Ragzlin proves to be a difficult fight. With the majority of your companions looking rough and the fight still raging on, you can’t help the necrotic energy bubbling up inside of you. You have to let it out.

Planting your feet firmly into the ground beneath you, you let out a fierce cry as ghostly skeletal wings sprout out from your back. A necrotic shroud falls over you, turning foes close to you around in fear. Your eyes turn into black pools as your gaze falls on Ragzlin, letting him know that he is your target.

The fight is quickly won after that and you drop your celestial facade, helping up Gale and healing him of his wounds. “Well, I didn’t know we had an Aasimar in our party,” Shadowheart mentions, causing you to turn your head towards her and see that everyone else stands behind her, staring at you in awe and curiosity.

“Let’s just find Halsin and get out of here,” you quickly say, walking past them without so much as making eye contact with them.

“Woah, woah, we’re not gonna talk about how fucking cool that was?” Karlach mentions as the party follows you, stepping over goblin corpses as you briskly walk toward the exit.

“There’s nothing to talk about so let’s not mention it. This is just something I can do just as you can go into a rage,” you say over your shoulder, pushing the heavy oak door open, shoving the piercing gazes you feel on your back from your companions. You sigh, knowing that they will pester you if you don’t tell them what they want to hear. “Look, it's a long story, okay. I come from a celestial background. It’s no different than Lae’zel coming from a Githyanki background. We all come from somewhere and none of us has pestered anyone about it, so why should it be different with me?” you question, turning around to face them. So, can we please leave it at that, find the druid, and get out of this place?”

From the tone of your voice, they can tell that your heritage is a sensitive topic. And they know you’re right. Everyone has their past and they are free to disclose as much as they want. It prevents tension from rising in camp. So, they suck it up, leaving your story to their imagination. Until you’re comfortable telling them.

Astarion, on the other hand, is not one to let things go. He thinks that he deserves to hear your story after he told you what happened to him and how he became a vampire spawn. Not to mention that you and him have become somewhat close. After all, you do allow him to feed off of you at night when he needs to. That creates quite a bond if he must say so himself.

As night draws near, everyone tends to themself to rest after a long day of slaying foes in the desecrated temple of Selune. You keep to yourself, not wanting to be involved in conversation as you fear that someone will bring up what happened to you in the fight. It’s a conversation you don’t wish to have.

You sit by the edge of the lake, looking up at the stars, lost in thought and memory. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching you from behind as you stare at the twinkling lights illuminating the sky.

“There you are,” Astarion’s voice calls, pulling you out of your thoughts and back down to earth as he sits beside you on the ground. “I had thought that perhaps you had flown off.”

It was meant to be a joke and you know that. But it does not make you laugh or smile. Instead, you sigh heavily and glance down at your feet. “If only. Unfortunately, my wings are incapable of flight,” you state, looking back up at the water lapping at the shore. “They never used to be, you know. Gods, I used to be so fast, flying between clouds like a blur. Now, I can remember what it’s like,” you say, smiling to yourself as you recall a memory of being in the sky.

Astarion has his eyes fixed on your face, taking in your smile, something that rarely comes across your face since he’s met you. “What happened?” he asks, tentatively and in a whisper.

“I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to,” you say, shaking your head in shame. “I fell in love with a devil. He was charming and cunning and I was cast out from my people because of it only to find out that he was toying with me because he wanted to see me stripped of my radiant power. He wanted to see me fall,” you explain, turning to meet Astarion’s gaze finally. “There is no pride in being a Fallen. Only shame.”

He understands now. If anyone, he knows all about shame and it explains more than you know to him why you never told anyone what you are. He wants to reach out and touch you, lay a hand on your wrist as a way to tell you that you are not alone in this. But he doesn’t know if you will allow him to touch you. He knows that if the roles were switched and he told you in extensive detail what Cazador had done to him, he might not know what to do with a friendly touch.

“I wandered around on my own, living off the land, too ashamed to show my face to others, fearing that they would know what I had done and how far I had fallen from grace,” you say, looking back out to the lake. “I was on my own for so long, until I was taken by those Mind Flayers. It seems fitting now, being a Fallen Aasimar with a tadpole behind my eye.”

“You are not alone in this, you know,” he simply says, leaning slightly forward so that he can hold your gaze. “No matter how far you have fallen from grace, you are not alone, little angel.”

You chuckle at his words, your shoulders relaxing as you shift in your seated position. “I’m glad to have met you, Astarion. I only wish that we had met sooner,” you say, smiling sweetly at him as you cross your legs under you. “Perhaps things would have been better.”

Astarion laughs, throwing his head back slightly as he follows your gaze out to the water. “I do not think you would have liked me all that much. I would most likely have led you like a lamb to the slaughter for Cazador to feast on. And he would have reveled in the taste of your blood,” he says, a low growl in his voice at the mention of your blood.

You two had talked about what the others might taste like to him, talking - theoretically - how different people’s blood would taste like. You’re sure that yours must taste different than those he had bitten in battle for a bit of extra strength.

“And I would have tried to kill you if you did,” you tease him, looking at him, your eyes meeting his and you two stare into each other’s eyes.

“May I see them?” he asks, his eyes shifting to your back.

You know he means to see your wings, even in their dismal state. You feel comfortable showing them to him just as he had felt comfortable telling you that he is a vampire. Giving a small nod, you close your eyes to focus on conjuring your spectral wings, revealing their skeletal form with minimal feathers covering parts of them, some looking as though they are ready to fall off.

His mouth falls slightly open as he stares at them, shifting himself on the sand of the shore so that he can kneel behind you. You can almost feel his breath on your next as he shifts closer, his fingers reaching out to touch the exposed bone.

A breath catches in your throat, your head perking up as a shiver runs through your spine, making your wings slightly perk up. Your heart skips a beat, something you’re sure Astarion can hear, and you turn your head slightly over your shoulder to look at him.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that his actions are considered something intimate between your people. Taking another’s wings is something only lovers do. You’ve never had anyone touch them, even when they are in their original, glorious form.

You close your eyes at the sensation, taking in it because you are not sure when you will experience it again. When you feel Astarion moving away, you look at him again and smile. “Thank you. For letting me myself around you,” you whisper, standing up off the ground and dusting off the sand from your hands and legs.

“No. I think I should be the one thanking you for trusting me,” he speaks, standing up with you as he gazes at your features illuminated in the moonlight. Gods, he wishes he could see you in your full glory. He knows you’re still holding back what you could be. Still, he thinks it could be absolutely glorious to see you as the angel you truly are.

You bid him good night and walk to return to your tent. As you leave him, he casts his eyes to the ground to spot a black feather that has fallen from your wings. He bends down to pick it up, twirling it in his finger as she smiles to himself.

He’s going to keep this feather so he remembers this moment forever.

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 8 months

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COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 1 - 2.6K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1 (you are here!)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

______________

You sat at your desktop and sighed. The clock in the corner of the screen read 2:38 AM. You could feel your eyes throb, the blue light from the screen was going to cause them to be bloodshot tomorrow you just knew it. You should probably call it a day but the Gauntlet of Shar was kicking your ass and you felt beyond dejected. Saving your progress you quit the game. You stare at the screen which had the Baldur’s Gate III loading screen, the green “play” button tempting you despite just logging off. Shutting down the computer you went through your night routine. Shower, brush teeth, pet the cat. You slid into your bed and sighed. Life felt so mundane, you wished you could adventure. Maybe that’s why the game was so appealing to you. You were already thinking about playing tomorrow after a grueling day of work. You set your alarm and slowly let yourself relax before going limp into a deep sleep.

____________

You could feel the migraine in your head before you even opened your eyes. You groaned before you realized you could also smell grass and feel a slight breeze on your brow. Suddenly a swift kick was planted into your side. Your eyes squeezed shut as you curled into yourself, holding your right side and coughing.

“What the fuck!” You yelled.

Coughing some more before you felt cold metal against your throat. You finally opened your eyes to see six people standing around you. People is a lose term as some had horns, tails, scales, etc.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t slit your throat where you lay istik.” Said the green woman in dazzling armor.

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it stopped. This was a dream. A fucked up dream. You really gotta lay off the Baldur’s Gate III because this is ridiculous.

You knew everyone looking at you but they did not know you. The blade pressed further into your throat and you let out a whimper. You did the only thing you could think of. You slowly put your hands up next to you head, palms open to show you meant no harm. Lae’zel let up ever so slightly but kept her eyes fixed on you.

“She asked you a question.” Said Karlach as she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at you with curiosity but also caution.

“Y/n…. My name is y/n.” You squeaked out, feeling the blade start to dig into your neck.

“And how is it that you managed to stumble upon our camp?” Asked Astarion with an unimpressed tone.

“I - I didn’t… I wasn’t looking for you I swear…. I just woke up here and I don't remember anything else.” Is sputtered out quickly, praying they believed you.

You felt a sharp sting and a… wriggle? Behind your eye, Shadowheart forced herself into your mind. Just as quickly as she had entered, the pain stopped.

“She’s telling the truth.” She said.

“Are you friend or foe? Speak now so I may offer you a clean death istik.” Lae’zel spat.

“Friend! Definitely a friend! I don’t want any trouble I promise!” Your voice shook and you could feel tears brimming in your eyes as you felt the blade draw blood.

Karlach gave a “tsk” before pushing past Astarion and Wyll. She stretched out a hand to you. You glanced at her, then back to Lae’zel.

Karlach looked to Lae’zel before speaking, “They look like a scared puppy you can’t possibly think they’re a threat Lae’zel.”

Lae’zel let out a huff before withdrawing her sword, your hand immediately flying to your throat only for it to be coated in blood. You looked at Karlach and quickly took her hand, scrambling to stand up before hunching over when you felt the shooting pain in your side.

“Ahhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” you whispered to yourself.

“Any sign of aggression and I will not hesitate to smite you.” Lae’zel said before walking back to her tent.

You finally straightened out. Looking at Karlach you spoke, “Thank you.” You gave her a smile, or what you could manage as a smile in the moment.

She looked you over before smiling brightly at you, “No worries soldier! I’m Karlach, pleasure to meet you.” She said while vigorously shaking your hand.

“Y/n.” You said softly while looking around. “I’m sorry, do any of you have a mirror?”

“Not even with us for more than five minutes and you’re already preening for a mirror. Petty vanity will get the best of you darling. Besides, not much to admire if you ask me.” Astarion said with a sassy yet disinterested tone.

You scoffed. Karlach pulled out her sword, you went to take a step back, ready to book it, before she held it horizontally in her hands. She looked at you before glancing at the sword. You stepped closer.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…” you said, feeling your face and hair. The reflection looking back at you was your Tav from Baldur’s Gate III. You pinched and pulled at yourself not believing what you were seeing.

“Something wrong?” Asked Shadowheart whom you made eye contact with in the reflection.

“I - I ummm… I’m um….. I’m not myself…” was all you could manage. Karlach sheathed her sword and you turned to finally face everyone. “Come find me when you want your bedroll y/n, I should have an extra one somewhere…” Karlach said before walking to the bonfire.

Shadowheart looked you up and down before shrugging “Lady Shar’s blessings upon you stranger. Please join us, you must be in want of a meal.” she gave a soft smile before going back to her tent.

Gale and Wyll introduced themselves. Gale healing the cut on your throat after mumbling a quick apology about Lae’zel stating she was the definition of overprotective and outrageously homicidal. Everyone had seemingly returned to their tents or the bonfire in the middle of camp.

You sat back down in the clearing you woke up in. This was not real. No damn way. Maybe you’ve had a severe psychotic break. Maybe you have a brain eating parasite (literally). Maybe you ate a cordycep and this was the end for you. Literally anything else would make more sense than “Oh my ass got Jumanji'd”. You stared off into space, trying to keep your shaky breathing consistent. You felt the air chill around you as the sun fell behind the horizon and Shar’s embrace consumed the night.

“You know it’s rude to stare.” said Astarion without looking up from you from his tent, the closest to your clearing and the direction you just so happened to be honing in on.

You slowly shifted your eyes down, resting your head against your forearms as they rested on your knees. You just wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. “Sorry.” was all you could whisper.

“Ugh gods, Karlach was right, you look like a scared puppy. Honestly, I don’t know how you’ve survived this long if you’re so…. fragile.” he continued his tone laced with a tinge of venom.

Your eyes started to water. You stood up, your joints yelling at you as they snapped and popped. You walked into camp, trying to make yourself as quiet and invisible as possible, walking swiftly to Karlach’s tent. You took your bedroll silently and found a spot in a clearing under a tree opposite to the clearing you woke up in. Leaning your head against the trunk you closed your eyes, crying silently until you fell asleep.

_________________

Astarion gazed at you from his tent for a large chunk of the night. Everyone else was fast asleep and he had just returned from a hunt. He could hear your heartbeat: soft, steady, calm. He heard your heartbeat when you arrived in the clearing, he’s the one who called the others to investigate with him. He was surprised you were so still when he found you. Your heart was beating hard, fast, endlessly. Terrified. He hadn’t heard a heart beat like that in a while. It was how all his victims' hearts sounded after he gave them to Cazador. He pushed the thought out of his mind, which wasn't hard as it was overtaken by another, more overwhelming thought. Why had he only heard your heartbeat and felt the immediate urge to find you and protect you? He felt something stir inside his chest when he laid eyes on you. That wasn’t allowed. That wasn't his purpose. He didn’t get to feel his own feelings. Everything was consumed by Cazador and the looming threat of him returning to Astarions life. He shuddered. He could smell the faintest scent of your blood that was dried on your hand from earlier. Gods it was sweet, even thinking of it made him salivate. His best option was to avoid you enough and reject you enough that the feeling inside him would cease. It was easy. You were already distressed. How much more could you fall emotionally? And yet, as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest he couldn’t help but think of anything else beyond how soft you looked. How peaceful. Your face relaxed, your jaw unclenched, your eyes puffy, fly aways clinging to your face, eyelashes still wet, short breaths being exhaled from your mouth. You were… cute.

Shit.

____________________

You awoke just as the sun started to rise. The sky is a beautiful mixture of blues, pinks, and purples. You sat up as if it would get you a better view of the heavens. Astarion walked up behind you quietly. “You’re up early.” he stated. You jumped slightly before facing the sky again. “Early riser.” you said back. Astarion hummed back before walking down the hill of your clearing. You followed him swiftly, not wanting to be completely alone in a camp full of sleepers. Astarion bent down softly into the small stream, gathering the water in his hands and gently rubbing it into his face. You sat silently next to him, gently letting your fingers dip into the rushing stream.

“What is that?” Astarion asked, glancing at your boot. You looked at him confused. He leaned over and pulled out the object.

There, in all its glory, your phone. You quickly snatched it from Astarion, his voice fading into the background. You turned your phone on, it had no service but it still worked and that was a great comfort. Suddenly it was ripped from your grasp.

Astarion stood up, holding the phone up and away from you. “What is this? Must be important.” He teased with a sneer. “Is it powerful?”

You stood quickly, putting your hand out “Please give it back its mine.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that it is yours. You need to answer my question though before I’ll consider giving it back.”

“I… I don’t know how to explain it… they don’t have these devices in your world…” you trailed off.

Astarion rose an eyebrow at you, “My world? So you’re from another world? Now I know you’re lying.”

“Wait! Maybe… maybe I can show you something with it.” You said in a small voice, reaching your hand out once again. “Something you’ve wanted for a long time…”

He eyed you up and down repeatedly before tossing your phone at you, “This better be worth it.”

You opened your phone's front-facing camera and stood next to Astarion, gently turning the phone in his direction. You saw his face drop then he just… stared. You started to bring the phone back down before his hand caught your wrist. His hold was gentle and cold, “Just a moment.” he whispered.

You nodded and let him hold the phone. He gazed at his eyes for ages before opening his mouth. He licked over his fangs, gently tracing his lips with his fingertips. “What is this thing? Why can I see myself?” He spat at you, suddenly angry. He tossed the phone at your feet before storming off to camp, leaving you alone at the stream. ____________________

The sun was now high in the sky and you had enough of sulking by the stream. If you were going to be stuck here for a while, better start working on making some friends. You walked back to camp before seeking out Gale.

“Morning! Is there something I can help with, you have an inquisitive look on your face.” he smiled at you.

You gave a small smile before asking, “I was hoping you could help me… enchant something? It needs power to survive, usually electric power but I don’t think that will work right now… can you try?”

Gale looked away as if thinking about what he could do; he snapped his fingers, “Ah! Yes, I think I might have something for that, Mystra willing and all. Can I see what you are talking about?”

You nodded quickly, shoving the phone into Gale’s hands.

“This little thing?” he glanced back at you. You nodded and gave a pleading look.

He nodded and sent you a soft smile before speaking strange words over it. Colorful beams of misty light enveloped your device, now floating in between Gale’s hands. He finished his incantation, all the beams shooting into your phone before he caught it as the spell seemingly ended. He smiled brightly and handed it back to you before crossing his arms over his chest. “Well… did it work?” he asked you, unsure how the device worked he was iffy about his magic in this instance.

You turned your phone back on, full battery that seemed unchanging for now. You smiled back at Gale “Yes! Thank you so much…. I appreciate you and your kindness towards me as a stranger.”

“With pleasure friend, bring it back should it start to falter, I’d be more than happy to fix it.” he said.

You smiled at him one final time before walking towards Karlach who was currently accompanied by Shadowheart and Lae’zel. Slipping your phone back into your boot, you quietly walked up to them. Their conversation died down once they saw you walking over. Lae’zel shot daggers at you, her gaze alone felt violent. Shadowheart and Karlach sent you small smiles.

“If you are going to travel with us we need to know your strengths. How are you useful to us and our endeavors?” Lae’zel questioned “You’re obviously no warrior, so what are you?” she gritted out.

“I’m a cleric… I practice under Ilmater… though I haven’t seen a battle before.” You spoke, picking at your nails instead of focusing on the women in front of you.

Lae’zel spat on the ground, “Not only have we taken in another mouth to feed, we have taken in a useless cleric with no combat experience. We may well have taken in a child.” she went back to her tent, wildly slashing at the poor practice dummy as if to further demonstrate her displeasure.

You winced watching, imagining every blow aimed at you. Shadowheart put her hand on your shoulder. “Perhaps we should go see Gale. He’s a follower of Mystra and I of Shar, I’m sure we can teach you a few things. Do you know much about Ilmater?” she asked, leading you by the back of your arm towards Gale. You shook your head no. “Well, my knowledge is limited, but if I recall correctly he is the protector of the persecuted and oppressed. There are worse gods to be in service to.” she chuckled. You smiled and gave her hand a squeeze as a soft ‘thank you’ for her simple kindness.

“I overheard, let's get to work shall we?” Gale asked you both before conjuring the weave, creating a safe, fragmented reality to practice in without causing any real damage.

Hello! This is my first ever public fic so please be gentle lol I'd love some drabble requests in the mean time before I send out chapter 2. I hope you enjoy! :)

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amywritesthings · 8 months

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the better strategy. / astarion x tav

summary: After successfully saving Druid Grove, Astarion has one goal in mind: secure his safety. His strategy? Seduce Tav. But what if that plan goes horribly wrong and he falls for his own game? pairing: astarion x tav (female, she/her) word count: 3.9k tags: tiefling party reimagined, act one spoilers, non-sexual intimacy, astarion's pov, allusions to astarion's past, selûne!tav // mature for thematic elements

part two. / masterlist.

PART ONE: THE ATTEMPT

“I can’t help but notice you’re not indulging.”

The minute the conflict within the goblin camp was over, the second the dust settled in the grove and the victory was imminent, Astarion knew precisely the trajectory he would need to take.

Call it his innate instinct — it wouldn’t take many brain cells to understand just who led this group of afflicted tadpole carriers, for better or worse, after such a battle.

At first he assumed Shadowheart would be the one he’d eventually stalk in the daylight, with her mysterious artifact clutched tightly to her chest. The follower of Shar, however, has about as many problems as her braid has sections.

She would not lead this group to triumph.

Lae’zel? Strong, but lacking in people skills.

Karlach? Strong, relatively agreeable, but suffering greatly from her fiery defect.

Wyll? Too many contracts, so little time to absolve them.

Gale? Not a chance in any of the Hells.

Tav, however…

Calm and collected Tav. Skilled and cunning Tav. Diplomatic and equitable Tav.

Brilliant in all shades of red, peppered across her skin in blood spatter — that Tav.

From the beach where he held a knife to her throat all the way to securing a victory for the refugee tieflings at a grove that never deserved her help, he’s watched this elven woman go from a nobody to a savior overnight.

Everyone vies for her attention. Everyone wants her approval.

Even now he witnesses her flutter through the throngs of beggars invading their sleeping space, trying their hands at flattery and praise.

(Incredible, that her ego hasn’t shot to the heavens with the gods and goddesses themselves.)

So when she finally — finally — stops in front of his tent after her lap around the camp, he knows he must catch her attention.

Keep it. Suffocate it.

He holds an empty goblet for the sake of saving face amongst the traveling tieflings, not quite willing to divulge his little secret so willingly to strangers.

Tav stops walking to stand before him when she catches that he's talking to her. “Am I not?" she challenges, holding up her goblet. "I’m drinking.”

“Not as heavily as others,” he quips, blinking his attention to the downtrodden no-name tiefling to his left still going through the motions of war and loss.

Tav’s eyes follow Astarion’s, resting there on the tiefling for a moment. Astarion blinks back to watch her expression soften — empathy.

(He hates it when she does that.)

“No, I suppose not,” she begins to reason. “That being said, I must admit I was not born with an iron stomach like Gale — or given a gifted singing voice like Alfira — or find myself in the mood to expose my talent of strength like Lae’zel.”

He can see it in his peripheral — Wyll and Gale sharing a bottle of wine, discussing the parameters of magic while crowding a most-eager Alfira as her slender fingers strum well-loved strings. Shadowheart sits quietly to the side of Halsin, nodding her head to the steady stream of tunes, and Karlach whoops and hollers as Lae’zel takes down yet another tiefling opponent in a series of arm wrestling matches.

Astarion hums indifferently. “But you were the one who secured the demise of those leaders. They all should grovel at your feet.”

“I recall seeing a fire bolt or two ignite from your hand,” Tav teases, returning her attention to his face. The licks of light from the fire compliments her complexion so well. “It wasn’t an effort finished alone.”

“It was an opportunity for violence,” he reasons. “I wasn’t about to squander it.”

“Is that so?” she asks, seemingly unconvinced by his removed reasons.

“Besides, fighting and swordplay is all well and good, but you were the one to spin the spider’s web to convince that rigid drow to believe we were rallying to her cause,” he tut-tuts with his tongue. “I didn’t think you had it in you to lie.”

After a brief huff, Tav shakes her head. “Not my best strategy.”

Astarion’s brows slide high. “No? I beg to differ.”

“I just needed to buy more time so no one would get hurt,” Tav explains, and Astarion wants to outwardly groan at her heroics. He doesn't. “I had no interest in aligning myself with someone who wanted to bring so much pain. Zevlor led his people well — they ought to be the ones you praise.”

Gods, he really likes her best when she’s focused on battle. Feral, merciless, bold — not whatever this at the end of the fight. She’ll list the damned stray dog for valor before herself.

Still, Astarion catches himself before he can ruin his own performance and sharply inhales. He puts a knowing smile back on his face, voice smooth like tainted honey nectar.

“You could still stand to take a little credit, my sweet,” Astarion replies, “but if you’re not willing to take it, then allow me to personally pay it forward.”

The dance is as old as time itself. Astarion steps from the makeshift rug of his tent, finding himself in the plush earth beneath their feet. The party rages on around them with copious laughter and impromptu music and sloshing ale, but the vampire hears nothing, sees nothing, smells nothing — except her.

And, if he’s calculated correctly, she only sees him.

Jogging up to him after missions to check in on his opinion as if she truly gives a damn. Glancing back when she’s talking to all sorts of lowly creatures as if his opinion means anything to alter her otherwise fortified decisions.

He tries to goad her into the worst possible ideas — no, this person doesn’t need help; no, this idiot can rightfully get fucked for creating their own problems; no, we’re not accepting a mere thank you for payment of our services.

(It’s any wonder she has any gold in her pockets at all.)

Sometimes she listens. Sometimes she’ll demand payment — though, if he had it his way, Astarion would turn these godforsaken degenerates upside-down and shake them stupid until Tav drains them of every last coin for acting like she’s anything but a saint.

Sometimes she stands up for herself, and Astarion can’t help but giggle when these little leeches scramble to reroute back to her good graces.

If he was a lesser man, if he didn’t know better, then the vampire would have an insane thought behind these random acts of acknowledgement: that she values him.

Somehow, in some way, even after he’s managed to violate her trust, her body, her blood — all for his gain.

For his survival.

Now he’ll offer something similar as a sort of payback for her kindness. Unfortunately, his talents are something of a one-trick pony: take a ride, any ride, and he’ll provide the best bloody night of your life. Cazador all but forced it to be a guarantee.

In the end, offering his body to Tav will secure his position in this merry band of misfits.

It will keep him safe — even if he feels the bile rising in his throat as he prepares himself to bite his lip and play coy to her every desire and whim.

(He can prove she’s just as vile as the rest.)

“Pay it forward?” Tav asks as if she doesn’t already know.

“Everyone appears occupied,” he begins, each word dripping with intention. “I can’t imagine they’ll miss us for a spell.”

His crimson eyes find hers, searching for the answer he needs: desire – for him, for stress relief, for a chance to use a willing body to let go.

“There’s a clearing not far from camp,” he purrs, taking yet another step as he ducks his chin to meet her gaze. “You can see the moon brilliantly. And the trees will catch your pretty little cries, so I implore you to be as loud as you’d like.”

Yet he’s met with widening eyes without a single thought behind them. Her lips part, close, then part again. Astarion waits for the telltale signs he’s memorized for the last agonizing two centuries — quickening of breath, dilated eyes, shifting in her stance.

“I promise it will be a night you shall never forget.”

He smirks with haughty confidence, his swagger undoubtedly catching her eye. He won’t touch her , not yet — it’s always best to make the anticipation —

Wait.

There: her eyes widen a fraction larger, lips parting with a sharp inhale.

Then her nose scrunches as if… amused, and he’s lost the script.

The hells?

“Astarion,” she starts.

“Yes, my dear,” he coos, keeping that seductive air about him.

“I don’t…” Tav gives a small smile, apologetic in nature. “I appreciate what you’re offering. Flattered, even, but I’m not someone who…”

Astarion stops moving forward, taken aback by the hesitance in her voice. For someone so headstrong in their decisions within this group, this is the first he’s seen her so… girlish? Up until now, he’s never seen Tav react to anything without conviction.

He senses a running theme between such an annoyance and the unwavering faith of a cleric.

“Am I meant to use our wiggling little friend to complete that thought for you?” Astarion presses, fluttering his fingers parallel to his temple for dramatic emphasis.

Tav sighs, and he hates it. “It’s hard to find the right words.”

“Then we needn’t use them,” he persuades airily. “That’s what bodies are for.”

Gods, she gives this look — and by now, he knows it well. The same knowing stare she gave that wretched little gnome who dared speak ill of her even after his rescue. The same knowing stare she gave Wyll when he threatened to attack their fiery friend.

The game is up.

Astarion feels… cold. Rejected?

He didn’t wish to sleep with her in the first place, but he’s never been outright denied.

“Is the gaudy wizard that eats magic trousers more your type, then?” He flippantly twists the problem away, raising a brow of feigned disinterest. “Or perhaps it’s the bloodthirsty Githyanki who gets off on smelling sweat.”

Tav snorts, rolling her eyes in a way that makes his stomach churn.

Does she think him a joke? Not attractive? Not worthy of sleeping upon her bedroll?

He runs through a list of grievances the cleric may have with him when she finally finishes the lingering thought: “I’m not someone who deals in one-night trysts.”

Tav explains slowly, cautiously, as if trying to spare his feelings. Astarion would be offended if he wasn’t so confused.

“I recognize many of us are seeing these hours as our final to live. Yet I find no comfort or pleasure in sleeping with someone I barely know.”

“But you know me better than most,” Astarion argues under his breath, jutting his chin back. That isn’t entirely a lie — Tav’s has taken the inner workings of his past, his plight, and the monster itself in stride.

Tav is the one to take a step forward this time, her cup half-drunk from the wine Halsin poured. Suddenly another feeling twists in the vampire’s sated gut: surely she’s letting him down gently because she’s interested in that beast of a man.

(The druid is certainly less jagged around the edges, teeth and all.)

“Not well enough for something like that, though,” she replies, her smile light.

Astarion’s brows knit as he considers his options. His usual form of seduction hadn’t worked. Should he spin a story, a web of lies, to make her think she truly knows him? Should he push a little harder, make promises of delight and pleasure, to—

“I’d like to see this clearing you speak of, to see the moon. Connecting with Selûne would be wonderful to experience with you near,” Tav adds, interrupting his inner monologue, “if you’re still willing to show me.”

Oh.

That’s so…

Odd.

Why does he suddenly feel so out of place and odd?

“I…” Astarion has half a mind to wave her off, to say it’s a massive waste of his night when he could get his quota filled by someone else in this camp. Yet he’s compelled to stay, to stare, as he takes in her expression. “...if that is what you wish.”

Is this a game? Play ignorant, then arrive at the clearing for sex?

He can’t read her. He can’t place her smile into any sinister category. It only widens, bright like the moon above, and she brings her goblet to her lips.

The vampire finds himself watching as her neck bobs with the gulp she takes.

“Shall I see you once everyone rests?” Tav asks, suddenly having the upper hand in a situation that was supposed to be his and his alone.

All the vampire can do is nod, sensible not to say anything that will jeopardize the private meeting, and smiles with a strain when she walks away to talk to the tiefling moping on the edges of the camp.

Of course she talks the sad sack into joining the party.

Of course she fucking does.

There’s still a chance she might want him.

All this talk about not wanting to rush things or explore another person could have been for show. She’s the diplomat of this group of imbeciles, lest he forget. She probably couldn’t afford to look interested in him, much less anyone else, so not to cause tension.

No worry — he’ll come prepared, may the cards fall where they must.

Astarion creeps past his tent, shedding his white tunic to hang on a sturdy branch a mere foot’s step away from the clearing in question. His pale skin practically glitters and glistens in the light poking through the treetops, his complexion a stark contrast to the scars and lines of a body that’s only recently belonged to him.

He leaves his trousers on. He’s not a goddamn animal, after all.

“Astarion?” a rushed whisper sounds to his right, so the vampire turns in all his slender glory.

“You came,” he greets, grinning ear to ear with his entendre.

The wood elf stares back at him from a thick cluster of trees, notably confused by the way her brows knit and her nose scrunches. She assesses his vivid nakedness, but doesn’t make a comment — not yet.

Well, she doesn’t particularly look lustful.

Then her attention disappears entirely when she realizes just how clear said clearing is: a damn near perfect circle, where he’s prepared a small blanket held down by sizable rocks he’d found by the river while everyone started heading into their tents for sleep.

To an innocent eye, it’s nothing more than a midnight picnic.

If he had anything to say about it, then it would certainly become that. The only road block is Tav as she nears the makeshift lovebed in the center of the clearing.

“You didn’t have to use your blanket, you know,” she mentions, and Astarion is yet again left sputtering for a suave answer.

How the hells did she know that was his blanket and not that wretched Gale’s?

“It isn’t mine,” he tries — smooth, very smooth.

Tav makes a noise as she sits down on the blanket, head turning as she studies the lack of patterns or love in its weave.

“I saw this in your tent,” she argues without conviction. “Lae’zel hates blankets. Mine are all accounted for. And Gale—”

“Alright, yes, it’s mine,” Astarion interrupts, peeved she’s more interested in playing detective than commenting on his broad chest.

The vampire awkwardly meets her on the blanket, sitting down with his heels dug into the dirt.

His legs stay in a raised triangle, knees to the sky, while Tav sits tall and crosses her legs under one another. Her slender fingers sit in her lap, annoyingly so, and Astarion stares at them to calculate a way he can smoothly bring them into his.

All he needs is to wriggle his way into this bizarre outing, to find what makes her tick, and he’ll be safe. It’s the only word running through his head at lightning speed.

Safe, be safe, make yourself safe—

Her gasp is light, possible to miss, but it takes him right out of the mantra to look up at Tav. Her smile is practically glowing as the moonlight bathes over her body, generous and… beautiful.

“You’re right,” she murmurs. “This is… beautiful, at this time of night.” Tav pauses, searching the constellations. “It’s so hard to pray, really, at camp. I don’t wish to offend Shadowheart.”

“What does Shadowheart’s approval have anything to do with your praying?” the vampire asks, feeling surreal that this is what her pillow talk has started with. Prayer. Religion.

(He’d gotten himself at least somewhat hard at the sight of how pretty she looked in the midnight air, ready to try his hand again, but now it’s all but softened with flattened disinterest.)

“Well, she worships Shar — the twin sister of my goddess, and they are not friendly.”

“So?”

“So,” Tav explains slowly, dipping her chin to observe him at her side. “I don’t wish Shadowheart to see me as an enemy just because of our differences in worship. But now you’ve shown me a place I could visit where I can properly speak to her — so thank you."

Astarion must look perplexed as all hell, because Tav studies his face, his naked torso, then back to his face again. He sits up straighter, unable to hide his annoyance in his rigid movements.

Tav shifts in her seat as well, but before she can continue her soft little chat about useless goddesses and Shadowheart’s temperamental feelings, Astarion clears his throat.

“Do you mean to tell me we are really not going to…?”

Tav’s lips purse, and Astarion’s gaze drops to them. They’re plush, soft – they wouldn’t be the worst to kiss. Hells, she looks soft. Her neck was delectable; her blood divine. It wouldn’t be the worst lay of his miserable little life.

“Sex,” he bluntly states, slashing straight through the bush instead of beating around it for the one-hundredth time when Tav doesn’t ask. “Are we not having sex tonight?”

Tav rears her head back, pulling away from him with a lean. “I… thought I already said we weren’t, back at the party—”

“Yes, and playing coy is all well and good, but I know you hold a candle for me, darling.” Astarion gestures around to the nothingness that surrounds the clearing. “No one is here to judge. No one is listening. It’s just us, so if you want—”

“I don’t.”

Talk about a sobering response.

The vampire squints, and finally — finally — Tav raises her chin with what can be considered a glare.

It’s cute, he’ll give her that.

“I already told you that I don’t simply sleep with people to do it.”

“And why not?”

“Because it’s never any good when it’s not with someone you care for, now is it?” Tav replies, exasperated by his poking and prodding. “Is this what all of this is for? The blanket, the… lack of a shirt?”

Astarion leans in. “Was it not obvious to you?”

“I thought you were overheated in the night!” she reasons, the blush on her face creeping up her neck to her cheeks. He sees it. He fixates on it. “I thought you were genuinely being my friend.”

Friend.

Oh, that one stings — he hates that it stings, that somehow he’s disappointed in himself for kicking the hornet’s nest when he had mostly been in her good graces up until now.

“If.. that’s all you wanted from me tonight, Astarion,” the wood elf slowly begins, curbing her temper with each word spoken, “then perhaps it’s best I leave—”

“No.”

Before he realizes it, the vampire grabs ahold of her free hand to stop her from pushing to her feet. His pale hand cages her wrist in, anchoring her to this shared spot, and he feels… well, not great.

But he can’t screw this up.

He cannot, under any circumstances, have her hate him.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology feels disgusting on his tongue, because he doesn’t quite mean it. He means a fraction of it, however, and that’s enough to push a genuine tone in his voice.

“Please, just… sit with me, then.”

He continues to hold her wrist, taking it as a good sign that Tav hasn’t ripped it from his grasp yet. That, or she’s just giving him the nicety treatment she gives to all of her companions.

Slowly the woman lowers back to the blanket, and he realizes a beat too late that she’s turned her palm to face his.

What?

Tav sighs heavily and turns their hands with a delicacy that feels too sacred for an undead such as himself. Astarion’s palm faces the mercy of the moon when his long fingers, one sinful digit at a time, let go of her wrist.

She doesn’t move away.

“Intimacy is a gift so many people crave,” she begins softly. “I know I do. I know all of us do. It’s why we choose to stay together.”

“The bloody tadpoles in our heads are what keep us together,” Astarion flatly argues, but his voice is tighter as her fingers draw against the life line of his palm.

She huffs with a laugh. “That, too.”

She sits her fingertips atop his palm, hovering. A lump forms in his throat.

“I like when physical intimacy is just that — intimate. That’s not to say Lae’zel’s views or your own are wrong, but… just isn’t how it works for me.”

Astarion is immobile. Lost, quite frankly, in the sensation that’s so little yet feels like it could move mountains.

He’s terrified to breathe, to think, as she continues to press her hand gently to his.

“For me?” she continues. “This — knowing you have my back, and I have yours? That you sit here in front of my goddess and allow me a moment to think — that is intimacy.”

He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, before raising a defeated brow. “And this is pleasurable, for you?”

“Is it not for you?” she returns straight back like a rapid-fire arrow to the gut.

The vampire doesn’t know how to answer that. Yes, this feels… nice, but it also feels wrong. Like he’s holding a lamb before the slaughter.

She is too trusting.

This world, as horrific as it is, will swallow her whole. He will swallow her in a singular gulp, right down the gullet, before she can process his inevitable betrayal.

Yet what does that say about him — holding her hand, allowing her to manipulate his palm at will, in front of a goddess he doesn’t believe in? This is her sanctuary yet he does not burn.

When she returns her gaze back to the moon with the wonder of a person who doesn’t believe in eternal damnation for merely existing, Astarion cannot help but stare.

Not at the moon, no.

At her.

Astarion’s fingers experimentally curl around hers, testing the boundary.

He notices the way she smiles not long after.

It takes a second too late to realize that he is smiling, too.

Well — shit.

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