#I really missed writing
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
frankierotwinkdeath · 5 months ago
Text
Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her
33K notes · View notes
lazylittledragon · 3 months ago
Text
ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????
1K notes · View notes
euthymiaaa · 1 year ago
Text
— longing for someone prompts ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡
im bathing in angst rn, enjoy!
them haunting your mind constantly, but are you even in theirs?
unconciously searching for them wherever, whenever
itching to text them, yet the guilt of pestering them hits
your stomach being on edge whenever you see someone who has a similar figure to theirs
regularly scouring their social media for any updates
them acting so sweetly which turns out to just be a cruel dream
envy creeping up your throat whenever other people hangout with them
taking them off your mind by hanging out with your friends, just for you to only see bits of their personality in your friends
weeping frustruatedly on your knees because you can't stop recalling your memories with them
surrendering to your insecurities; perhaps they truly are better off without you
hopelessly persuading yourself that you were able to go on with life before knowing them, so you can definitely do it after they left
urging the universe to see them one last time before letting them go (it never happens anyways)
"if anyone is listening, please let our paths intertwine again before the day I take my last breath"
6K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽`)ノ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!
1K notes · View notes
wildernessuntothemselves · 8 months ago
Text
Class clown
class clown gyu who for some reason has it out for nerd!reader and finally she gets sick of it and puts him in his place. warnings: dom!reader, sub!gyu, handjob, blowjob, dirty talk, pathetic gyu as always
Tumblr media
"What is your problem?" You snap at Beomgyu, the class clown and the bane of your existence. He is always on your case, making fun of you in front of everyone. Today you made a mistake answering the proferssor's question and he immediatley jumped on it, humiliating you in front of the entire class. "Why do you have to mess with me?"
"Because you're fun to mess them." He answers simply, a huge infuriating grin on his face. You look really funny when you're angry."
You don't know what came over you, you're not usually a violent person but seeing his stupid cocky face makes you lose it and you shove him against the wall, slamming your hands on either side of his head to trap him in. "Do I look funny now?
But to your chagrin, he keeps grinning, not phased one bit. "Kinda."
You're so frustrated you could cry. There was nothing you have ever thought of or done that got him to leave you alone. He has been doing this to you for years, even back when you were at school. In fact you had been so excited to go to uni just to escape him, only to see his stupid face at your first lecture and your entire dream of escape came crashing down.
"What? The smart mouth finally has got nothing to say?" He goads when you stay quiet too long for his liking.
Your vision turns red. He makes you so frustrated and pent up, you would do anything to shut him up. Maybe that's why you resorted to doing something crazy.
Grabbing his face, you push your lips against his, intending to strong-arm him into silence. After all if his lips are busy, he can't mouth off anymore.
You don't know how you expected him to react to that--freeze in shock? Push you off? Call you crazy? You don't know but you certainly didn't expect him to almost immediately start kissing you back. It threw you off so hard you actually pull away from the kiss yourself.
But as soon as you pull back, he's running his mouth again. "Damn, nerd, looks like your mouth is good for somethjng other than eating the professor's ass."
"You're so fucking.. ugh!" You groan, shutting him up again. But this time you don't just use your mouth, instead you raise his shirt up, feeling up his body to his nipples and grabbing them between your thumbs and index fingers and pulling on them a bit roughly, making him gasp and break away from the kiss with a wet smack.
"Oh god," He groans, eyes fluttering as you roll his nipples between your fingers.
"You like that, brat?" You spit, happy to finally be getting the upper hand for the first time in your years of being tormented by Beomgyu.
"Fuck yeah." He groans and tries to reach out to touch your own tits.
"Don't fucking touch me, brat." You hiss at him, "If you touch me, I stop."
"You're being such a killjoy." He protests but it's hard for him to keep a steady voice when your fingers are playing with his clearly sensitive nipples like that, and even more so when one of your hands slips into his loose pants to palm his already very hard cock.
"You look like you're enjoying it enough." You mutter, twisting your hand up to the head of his cock, making him moan out.
"Fucking hell...Are you gonna fuck me?" He asks bluntly.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Gyu?" You ask, and any hesitency over the unfamiliar nickname vanishes as he shudders under your touch.
"If you're going to be handling my cock like that then I damn well expect to get a fuck out of it." He replies, still insolent despite his whimpering and frankly slutty moans.
"You're such a little bitch." You chastise, focusing your strokes on the head of his cock, aiming for maximum damage. "You think you deserve to get anywhere near my pussy after the shit you've pulled over me for years?"
He shrugs, trying to affect nonchalance but it's hard to but he's panting like a bitch for you. "Maybe if you get fucked good, you'd be a little less uptight.
Uptight! Just because you care about your future, that doesn't make you uptight. God, you hate him... but damn, does he looks fucking hot falling apart in your hands like that.
"And maybe if you were getting any attention on your cock apart from your own hand, you wouldn't be such an attention seeking slut." You jeer, getting down on your knees. "Now shut the fuck up or you won't get to cum at all."
"What--" He doesn't have time to formulate his question before you pull his pants down and wrap your mouth around his cock, sucking any retort right out of him.
"Oh, fuck, that's it." He arches his back, driving his cock further down your throat which you readily take, to his surprise.
"Fuck, where did you learn to suck dick like this?" He asks through his moans but you don't bother to answer him. You don't owe him an answer, you just want to shut the bitch up.
But Beomgyu is incapable of shutting up. "Have you been sucking dick on the down low? I didn't know the nerd is such a big slut. Thought you were a good girl."
You detach from his cock to retort, tearing a whine out of him which the idiot is too stupid to realize he is the cause of. "You're one to talk. Look how loudly you're moaning as soon as you get your dick wet. What? No one wants to fuck such a loudmouth?"
"Fuck you." He mutters, and you laugh. "You wish, baby." You smirk, bobbing your head down his cock again, going ruthlessly fast and getting the brat to writhe under you.
You think that would be the end of it but Beomgyu could die and his mouth would still be running. "Seriously, who are you fucking? Taehyun? Soobin? Don't tell me it's that manwhore Yeonjun?"
You pull off his dick in frustration, using your hand to jerk him off roughly instead. "Why do you fucking care who I fuck?"
"I don't care." He huffs, arching his back to push his cock further into your grip. "I just know they can't be fucking you good if you're still so uptight all the time. If you want a good time, I could give you the time of your life."
You burst out laughing, obviously bruising the boy's ego in the process but you don't care. And you don't even bother hiding your incredulity. "You? Do you even see yourself? I'm barely even moving my hand and you're fucking it like a dog in heat. Your dick is drooling all down my arm. You look like you're a few pumps away from creaming yourself. I don't think you'd even make it one stroke inside my pussy before you pop like a virgin."
"No, I'm not." He denies, trying to keep his hips still, clearly fighting with himself. "I can fuck you so good you'll screaming my name."
"You can? You can take hot, tight pussy until I cum? You can have me clench around your needy cock without emptying your balls inside me?" You reach your other hand out to cup his balls, massaging then gently between your fingers, making him suck in a shuddering breath. "You can hold back your hot cum until I'm ready to milk your cock? You won't just break and spurt your cum inside me as soon as you put it in?"
"Fuck, fuck, slow down." He gasps, trying to squirm away from your touch but you hold him tighter, jerking him off steadily.
"Why? Are you going to cum just from my hands? That's disappointing. I thought you wanted to give me the fuck of my life?" You cock your head to side, staring up at him condescendingly, making him shudder.
"Baby, please, slow down?"
"Baby?" You laugh. "Now I'm baby?"
"I can't take much more." He was jerking uncontrollably in your grip but you never let go, taking the hand on his balls off to press it against his lower tummy to hold him in place as you continue jerking off his now very red and slippery cock.
"Are you gonna cum?" You ask again and he nods, biting onto his lip harshly. "Yes, can I?"
You have to say you were taken aback at him suddenly asking for your permission to cum. You would have thought the brat would just do it with no warning. "Aw, baby is asking for permission to cum? If I knew it was this easy to get you to behave, I would have... well, actually I still wouldn't have touched you any sooner. But it's good to know how pathetic you really are."
"Fuck you." He repeats, voice strained in his effort to still hold back.
"You want me to say you can cum?" You tease, twisting your hand over the length of his cock slowly.
He nods. "Yes. Need it. Need it."
"Are you going to be good to me from now on?" You ask and he shakes his head. "You're too fun to tease."
"You are too." You counter, slowing your hand down, making him thrust his hips to try to get more of your touch so you smack his thigh in punishment. "Down, boy!"
"Baby, please!" He begs so sweetly, pining you with his pretty, brown eyes, his dick drooling in your grip.
"Are you going to be good from now on?" You tighten your grip around him as you deliberately move your hand up the entire length of his cock, feeling his precum dripping down your arm.
"Yes, yes, I'll be good. I'll be so good." He babbles, and you know he is lying his ass off, just wanting to say whatever would get you to let him cum, but even that makes you feel so fucking hot. To have that effect on your tormentor after all these years is a fucking head rush.
"God, you're a mess." You mutter, quickening your pace over his cock, making Beomgyu panic. "Wait, wait, can I cum? Can I cum?"
It's a little precious how much he panics over cumming without your explicit permission, so much so you decide to just give it to him, wanting to see the brat completely lose it in your grip.
"You can cum, brat." As soon as you utter the words--as if he was really waiting for them--he explodes, spurting rope after rope of cum down your arm and onto your chest.
"Thank you. Thank you, baby." He cries, emptying himself for you until he can no longer hold himself up anymore and collapses to the ground by your side.
But to your surprise and mild horror, Beomgyu takes a minute to calm himself down before he grabs his own cock and strokes himself to full hardness again, bearing through the pain of overstimulation for a reason that only becomes apparent to you after you ask, "What the hell are you doing, Beomgyu?"
"I promised I can fuck you good, didn't I?"
He really is insane.
____________________
2K notes · View notes
biblically-accurate-dca · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
painting test with a limited color palette
here's the moon equivalent!
868 notes · View notes
voiice-of-the-soul · 3 months ago
Text
It irritates me alot when people say that making medic more compassionate is ''missing the point of his character'' when he is literally shown to be in the comics.... did you miss the part where he showed concern for both sniper and miss pauling's well being in comic 5 and 6.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
His actions are a combination of genuine attachment + clinical interest and these things do not cancel out one another. He is always pushing boundaries and going against the grain and i think this is what led to him losing his license in the first place. He felt stifled by the rules imposed on him.
He is shown to be extremely passionate so it makes sense that he would use his endless fascination with medicine as a way to show his affection. He loves his friends so he will find a way to make them borderline indestructible. Malpractice is his love language.
1K notes · View notes
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
He is at his limit.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
3K notes · View notes
goosewizard · 1 month ago
Text
hc that tubbo is REALLY insecure about his missing eye, so he wears an eyepatch in new l’manberg and absolutely hates it. it’s too big and garish, it rubs up on his wounds all wrong, he hates seeing himself with it. it makes him feel weak. ranboo notices (of course he does) and thinks that tubbo deserves to feel handsome again. they set off after a cabinet meeting to see if ghostbur has any books on prosthetics.
it should be noted that ranboo has no fucking clue what they’re doing. in the weeks after the plans inception, he has amassed over fifty handcrafted glass eyes, of which exactly zero will work. they’re too big, too small, not the right color. he even managed to make one with a rectangular pupil before they thought better of it. it's a shame, too, that was his best one yet. they're tired and frustrated and the eye collection is really starting to creep him out. ranboo considers asking for help.
ranboo remembers the tumultuous political state of new l'manburg.
ranboo thinks this may be a one-man project.
it really shouldn’t be a surprise that tubbo finds out. they've been practically attached at the hip since ranboo joined, and he was never any good at keeping things from tubbo anyway. they're popping over to ranboo's to get supplies for whatever adventure they're going on today, and the little chest labeled SECRET DO NOT OPEN is too full, propped open with dozens of lumpy glass spheres. tubbo notices (of course he does) and gets halfway through a i can't believe you have an eye fetish before he realizes. ranboo thinks it's a bad sign when he goes silent and an even worse one when his eye goes all misty and aw shit he made the president cry.
he's stuttering through an apology when tubbo's one eye meets their two and he asks is this for me? did you make these for me? ranboo nods and tubbo smiles like a kid on christmas, watery and bright. they've missed that smile. before he knows what's happening, tubbo's tackled them into a hug, sending both of them careening to the ground. ranboo vows there and then to give the man anything and everything he desires now and forever, just so he can feel like this again. not a veteran, not a politician, just tubbo, carefree and kind.
yeah, that sounds like a good life.
as quickly as ranboo went down, he's being pulled back up with tubbo insisting that they try every single eye, previous adventure abandoned. they spend the day like that, going through the chest, laughing at some of ranboos earlier attempts, and screaming with excitement when one managed to fit.
he looks beautiful. more confident, brighter, somehow. they burn his eyepatch that night. ranboo had already gotten him a better one anyway.
part 1 | part 2
406 notes · View notes
landoncrris · 2 years ago
Note
loved the new fic 🥰🥰🥰
thank you so much 🤭🤭🤭🤭
0 notes
takaraphoenix · 5 months ago
Text
Single Mom Stiles (*cough* Stiles and Liam) leaving the pack because of Theo and, now packless, find their way to the Hale Pack.
Who are. Still alive and around and thriving.
Alpha Derek, Peter, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Jackson, Cora, maybe the twins, I haven't decided on that one yet.
(Maybe Malia/Kira will go with them. Because I love Kira and I think Malia needs to get to own the Hale heritage.)
Can you imagine Derek seeing Stiles be pack mom even without a pack and desperately wanting to court Stiles, like, his inner wolf is going nuts over this. But. To get to Stiles, Derek will have to get past Stiles' very protective pup first.
498 notes · View notes
bamsara · 1 year ago
Text
realization. triumphant wilson, zim, moon and now narinder in my fics. thats fours a pattern. do you see
3K notes · View notes
nerdallwritey · 5 months ago
Text
Just to Ruin Me
Summary: “You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” OR The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two.
Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 12.5k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), the other companions are also idiots, but don't piss of Shadowheart Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 2 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find Part 1 here. Find the masterlist here.
a/n: Thanks to everyone who read Part 1!!! Your kind comments and encouragement spurred me to write Part 2 and I hope it's a sequel that lives up to expectations!! I know the summary is a little angsty, but I promise there's more banter to be had. Everyone is still a goof, after all. Please enjoy :) (Thank you to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part ended with the following few lines: “For now, you were content to sleep under the stars in Astarion’s arms. It was the best sleep you’d ever had.”
Taglist: @a66-1 @khaleesiofthewolves @khywren @lollipopsandlandmines @minestrones
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the best sleep you’d ever had.
Though you’d grown accustomed to roughing it in the last few weeks since the nautiloid crash, waking up in the forest was still a shock. It had its charms, sure, like the fresh air and the breeze blowing in off the mountains, but the appeal was starting to wane. Especially after one too many nights of having to take a dip in the frigid lake next to camp to rid yourself of gnoll blood. 
This morning however, you found yourself surrounded by blankets and pillows from your camp in the middle of a clearing surrounded by large pine trees, all of which had been thoughtfully arranged by the figure trancing beside you. Your own sleeping figure sighed comfortably, unbothered by the lack of a mattress or a hot bath, just a nice deep sleep-
Astarion whacked you in the face.
Your eyes shot open.
“OW?” You scrunched your nose and blinked a few times to get your bearings. 
It was still dark. The forest around you was painted a delicate shade of periwinkle. You’d hazard a guess that it was just a little before dawn. 
At some point in the night, you’d rolled onto your back, away from Astarion, who was now curled to your right, his back facing you. He must have just rolled over, explaining the harsh wake up from his forearm. You smiled softly and instinctively brought your hand to rub your forehead where he’d made the unfortunate contact. 
Blinking a little more, your eyes were beginning to adjust. From this angle, you had a clear line of sight to the large scar that overran a majority of his back. You squinted in the dark to try and get a clearer view of the terrible thing, but came up short due to the shadows of tree branches being cast from above. Still just a mandala of jagged lines and brutal curves. When you got your hands on Cazador, you’d…
No.
No, that wasn’t your fight. 
But you’d be gods damned if you wouldn’t be there for every bloody moment Astarion faced him, giving support however you could. Though you had to admit that it would be so gratifying to corner the bastard and cast a quick little Otto’s Irresistible Dance… Assuming you’d be strong enough to cast it by then… Gods, he’d look so fucking stupid just before Astarion plunged a knife through his heart-
Enough. Battle strategies and sick, twisted (but satisfying) revenge fantasies later. Right now you noticed that the shifting of the shadows on his back wasn’t from a breeze shaking the branches above you, but because Astarion himself was trembling. 
Your first instinct was to reach out and touch him, but you quickly retracted your hand. Based on the short whimpers he was letting out, it seemed like he was having a nightmare.
How was one supposed to wake someone from a nightmare again? With Astarion you’d have to be extra careful; you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d stowed a knife somewhere within these blankets that he might reach for in a surge of waking fear. 
That… would not be pleasant. 
You shifted to sit up and look around.
Ow.
A dull throbbing made itself known between your legs.
No, that was great. Spectacular, in fact. You’d have to stop and assess later.
Gingerly, you got onto your knees and peered around at your surroundings. Astarion had done a decent job of cleaning up the clearing to make room for this blanket nest, so there wasn’t a poking stick to be seen within reaching distance.
Not that you were going to poke him with a stick… but the thought had crossed your mind. You were still tired! You’d been fucked for the first time last night! There was a lot going on! 
You shook your head to clear the stupid overlapping thoughts and set to looking around for a wayward pillow. You spotted one in the far corner and made your way over to it carefully but with some haste to end Astarion’s unconscious suffering. 
You crawled back over to him. And then backed up a little. Just in case.
“Astarion,” you sang quietly. 
Astarion continued trembling, but you heard him inhale sharply. A good sign?
You raised your voice a little, but kept the same musical cadence. “Astaaaarioooon.”
Nothing.
Okay fine. 
“Sorry,” you said quietly, then threw the pillow at Astarion, hitting him squarely on the back of the head. You leaned forward to grab your own pillow as a protective shield as he gasped and shot up.
“What the hells? What’s happening?” Astarion rolled onto his back and frantically looked around until his eyes landed on you. 
You smiled sheepishly and waved at him lamely from behind your pillow. “Hi.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes, confused. He shook his head, then lifted a hand to the back of his head where the pillow had hit him. “What did you do?”
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Oh, I know what I was doing,” his tone was sarcastic. “What were you doing?”
You looked down at your lap, guilty. “I couldn’t remember how to wake someone up from a nightmare.”
“So you assaulted me?”
“I didn’t know if you had a knife!”
“Why would I have a knife? What is happening?!” He sat up fully and brought a hand to his forehead as if he were in pain. 
“Are you okay?”
“Thankfully, I’ll live,” he opened his eyes and looked at you, his hand still on his forehead. 
You huffed. “I meant with the nightmare.”
Astarion sighed and closed his eyes again. “It’s far too early to discuss this.” He tilted his head up towards the sky, which was getting brighter with every passing moment. A practiced smirk appeared on his face and he looked at you once more. “I’d much rather know if you’re okay, darling.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. 
“We had a lot of fun last night, didn’t we?”
“Seeing as how I’m always a lot of fun, I don’t understand why you’re posing this question.” You looked down your nose at him. 
He hung his head and sighed exasperatedly. “Will you simply allow me to work my charms on you?”
You tutted. “Is that what you were trying to do just now?”
“Attempting to, yes.” Astarion crossed his arms. “I’m usually irresistible.”
You snorted. “Okay,” you said, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m going to ignore your lack of an answer about your nightmare and will elect to wait until you’re ready to tell me about it yourself.”
Astarion pursed his lips.
“But go ahead,” you rearranged your legs, wincing mildly as you moved to sit cross legged, “charm me.”
A look of worry flashed over Astarion’s face when he saw you wince, but the concern was quickly overtaken by an all too self-satisfied grin. “Feeling it this morning, are we?”
You rolled your eyes. “I knew you’d be happy about this.”
“Positively delighted, my sweet.” He leaned forward and kissed you gently, bringing a hand up to your cheek. You brought your own hand up to lay against his. He pulled away and appraised your face smugly. “I was completely enamored by your performance last night.” You were about to open your mouth to say something, but Astarion interrupted. “Don’t even think about mentioning that you’re a bard and that of course you’re good at performing, or something like that.”
You closed your mouth. You were going to say something like that. Instead you said, “You were pretty good yourself.”
He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “I’ve ‘ruined you,’ from what I recall.”
You groaned. “I just said that to make you cum.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dear.” His face was still smug, but he motioned for you to come closer. You scooted forward and he lifted you slightly to sit on his lap. 
He leaned up and kissed you deeply, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for entrance. You moaned in response and opened your mouth for him. Though the rest of his body was cold, his mouth was warm and inviting, and you leaned in further to try and get closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head slightly to get a better angle. You’d been mildly distracted last night; had he always smelled this good?
When Astarion pulled back suddenly, you couldn’t help the whine that escaped at the loss. He hummed in satisfaction, and his voice was low and seductive when he spoke.
“Every part of your perfect body whispers temptations-”
You giggled. “What?”
“Shush dear, I’m charming you.” He cleared his throat, “-it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”
“So now I’ve ruined you?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly.
“Wait, no-”
You leaned your forehead onto his and laughed. “And that one usually works?”
He blew out a puff of air. “You’re an unusual one, I’ll give you that.” 
You shrugged, pleased with yourself.
“But yes,” Astarion continued, “I’ve made plenty of previous lovers swoon with that particular line.”
“Show me what else you’ve got, then,” you challenged.
Astarion tilted his head in thought. “Let’s see… I can’t use the ‘cried from your lips’ line because I used that one last night…” You scoffed joyfully, mockingly scandalized that he’d already used a line on you. He met your eye and smirked. “How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive, yet I crave only to die again, with you.”
The sultry tone of his voice did send a pang of want through your body, reminding you that you were only wearing Astarion’s shirt and nothing else. You shifted uncomfortably. 
“How romantic,” you said, trying to keep your voice nonchalant. “I didn’t think you liked dying the first time.”
Astarion narrowed his eyes, sensing your deflection and smirked, looking down at where you sat on his lap. He rolled his hips, which made you inhale sharply. “I see that one did do something for you,” he leaned forward and kissed your neck. 
You exhaled slowly, “I blame that stupid sexy voice of yours.”
Astarion growled against your throat and you shivered, bringing your hands up to his back. 
“Astarion,” you sighed and he hummed in response, licking over the twin wounds he’d left the night before. You sat up a little straighter. “Wait.”
He immediately pulled back and looked at you with concern. “What is it?”
“I just thought of something,” you said.
Astarion raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting you to continue.
“Can I borrow your fangs?”
“My-?” His tongue instinctively flicked over his teeth.
“Because I want to leave a lasting impression on you,” you tilted your head at him to show off the marks he’d left on your throat. You shimmied your shoulders a little for good measure. 
“I’m leaving,” Astarion made to get up with you still on his lap and you laughed loudly.
“No! No! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wanted to try a dumb line on you, too!” You threw your arms around his neck and hid your face in his shoulder. You felt him kiss your hair.
“You’re lucky I don’t travel with you for your personality,” he joked. 
“I’d say ‘I’m a lot of fun’ again but I think you’d actually stop talking to me.” You pulled back to look at him.
“And you’d be right.” He kissed you chastely and then adjusted you on his lap. You winced a little again and he looked genuinely sympathetic. “I might have a way to ease the pain from last night,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
You smiled at him. “Yes.”
He smiled back. “Good.” He positioned your arms over his shoulders. “Hang on, my love.” You crossed your arms where they hung behind him and waited to see what he would do. 
Without warning, you felt one of his cold fingers slide through your folds. You hissed at the sensation and looked at Astarion. 
“Supposedly, massaging the area can help,” he was trying to sound knowledgeable, but the look in his eyes was one full of lust. Then he tutted, looking down. “You could be wetter, darling.” His thumb began to circle your clit.
Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, and you leaned forward again to rest your forehead on his shoulder. 
“Do you want my cock again, love? You took me so well last night, I was so proud of you,” he’d moved his mouth next to your ear and was speaking with the same sultry tone that he had a minute ago. You whimpered at his praise and rolled your hips to get his thumb to press you harder. Astarion let out a low groan. “That’s it, you’re getting so wet for me, you’re so good.”
After a few more tight circles, you practically sobbed when you felt him take his thumb away from your clit.
“Shh, shh, I know,” he cooed, “but we want you to feel better, remember?”
You let out a frustrated sound. “I already was feeling better.”
Astarion chuckled. “Trust me, would you? Impatient.” His tone was nothing but fond.
His other fingers began massaging the area around your entrance. You winced and bit your lip. 
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” you confirmed. “I assume this will get better?”
“That’s the idea,” he kissed your ear and you nodded against his shoulder. 
You rolled your hips, attempting to get friction where you needed it. 
“Just a little longer,” Astarion said, moving his fingers gently around your cunt.
You hummed an acknowledgement and kept rolling your hips, trying to combat this weird form of edging that was happening. 
Finally, Astarion ceased his massaging and brought his thumb back to your clit. You let out a long shuddering breath and squeezed your eyes tight, adjusting your hips to roll against his thigh. 
“There you go, my love,” Astarion said, voice still in your ear. “I’ll make you cum for behaving so well.”
You whined loudly as his thumb picked up the pace. You began rolling your hips at an equally fast pace. “More,” you whined, willing your climax to approach faster.
“Not right now, darling. Let’s give you a break there, shall we?” Astarion used his free hand to pet your hair. 
“But you asked if I wanted your cock again,” you whined.
“And while I’m pleased to hear that you’d like it again, let’s relax and get you off like this for now, okay?” 
You groaned but nodded, squeezing your eyes shut again and focusing on the pleasure Astarion was currently providing. “Harder,” you instructed.
Astarion pressed down harder on your clit with his thumb. He swept his index and middle finger through your folds, coating them in your slick. He quickly swapped those fingers with his thumb, changing the sensation by swapping one finger for two and adding more of your arousal to the mix. 
You keened and gripped his bicep. “Harder!” You instructed again, desperate and approaching the edge. You could feel the coil in your stomach preparing to let go.
Astarion pushed again and brought his lips to your ear once more. 
“I just thought of something, precious thing,” he murmured.
You blinked at him, your eyes unfocused and half lidded.
“More of a question, really,” he clarified.
You squeezed your eyes tight, nodding. You were on the precipice of your orgasm and could feel it fastly approaching. You slammed your hips against Astarion’s thigh as he continued to rub your clit brutally. 
“Do you believe in love at first bite?” He leaned forward and kissed your throat, then began to suck a new mark into the flesh there. Contrary to his pun, he wouldn’t drink from you without your expressed permission first.
It did, however, send you crashing over the edge. You moaned loudly, Astarion’s name tumbling repeatedly out of your mouth. The vision behind your eyelids was white and you reached out blindly to grip Astarion’s shoulders. His lips detached themselves from your throat and found your own. His tongue was immediately in your mouth, swallowing your moans and shouts of his name.
When you came down, you disconnected from the kiss and opened your eyes, a lopsided grin on your face. 
“Thank you,” you said. “I do feel better.”
Astarion smirked. “I knew you would.” He brought his fingers, still coated in your essence, up to his mouth and sucked them clean. You watched, mesmerized by the way his cheeks hollowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He pulled them out with a lewd pop. “Delicious.”
You felt your face flush, embarrassed by his display, despite just cumming in his lap. 
“You shouldn’t feel embarrassed about this,” Astarion said, reading your expression immediately. “What you should feel embarrassed about is the fact that you came because I told a joke.”
“I did not!” You protested.
“You absolutely did,” Astarion said. “And it was a particularly bad one, too.” He clicked his tongue. “You must feel so ashamed.”
You groaned. “I came because you started kissing my neck!”
Astarion raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. “It’s okay, darling, no one here was under the impression that you aren’t incredibly lame.” He gave you a pitying look, then kissed your nose and you laughed. He pulled back and looked at you fondly, a dopey half smile on his face. Then he looked up at the sky.
The periwinkle you’d awoken to was now vibrant shades of orange and pink. 
“Are you okay if I move you?” Astarion asked.
“Um… sure?” You weren’t sure why he was asking, and helped to move yourself off of him. You did feel a bit less sore thanks to his help. 
He stood up and stretched his arms over his head, then bent to pick up a rag to wipe off his pants. 
“Sorry,” you said.
Astarion shook his head. “Comes with the territory.” You were about to make a joke but he held up a finger and gave you a warning look. “Don’t.”
You held up your hands innocently. 
He tossed you the rag after and then your pants and underthings.
“Clean up,” he instructed, “then get dressed.”
You furrowed your brows, your stomach dropping suddenly. He didn’t expect you to leave right now, did he? He hadn’t fucked you last night, then brought you more pleasure this morning, only for him to send you back to camp like it hadn’t happened, right?
Astarion snorted. He was watching you as he slipped on his shoes. “Relax, darling, I see that face. I just want to show you something.” He held out a hand to help you up.
“Okay,” you smiled, soothed by the pleasant look on his face. “Do you want your shirt back?” You made to lift it over your head.
“Keep it for now, dear,” Astarion said. “I rather like that on you, truthfully.” The collar was slipping off your shoulder as you pulled on your pants, and you made no move to adjust it, opting not to put your bra back on yet.
“Do you want to wear my shirt?” you teased.
“Tempting, but I fear I’d look better in it than you do.”
“Excellent point, don’t do that.” You adjusted the ruffles on Astarion’s shirt and felt a light breeze on your cleavage through the lacey opening at the collar. 
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said. You looked up and caught Astarion staring at your chest.
You laughed as he cleared his throat, then gestured deeper into the woods with his head. “This way.” He held out a tentative hand and you took it eagerly, bringing the back of his palm up to your face to leave a gentle kiss. Astarion squeezed your hand slightly at the contact, and began heading further into the forest, away from camp. A pleasant silence hung between the two of you and you rubbed your thumb absently along the back of his hand.
It wasn’t long before the trees started to thin and you heard the sound of rushing water somewhere close by. You emerged from the trees to find a cliff overlooking a ravine below. On the other side of the ravine was more forest, and beyond that, you could faintly see the Sea of Swords. The sun peeked out over the horizon, bright reddish orange in the distance. Its glow was a welcome sight and you found yourself in awe of the view.
Astarion let go of your hand and sat, dangling his feet over the edge of the cliff. You hesitantly stepped forward and sat beside him, opting instead to sit with one knee up, the other leg crossed beneath it. Astarion sat back on his arms. The sun reflected off his skin in the most beautiful golden and magenta hues. His hair, somehow still perfect despite your night together, was being jostled lightly by the breeze. He’d closed his eyes and tipped his head up, basking. You couldn’t help watching him as you rested your cheek on your bent knee. 
He didn’t open his eyes when he said, “I try to come out here every morning.” 
You sat in silence, continuing to watch him as you prepared to listen to whatever he’d say next. 
“After two hundred years in darkness, you forget how lovely the sunrise is,” he said. “I don’t ever want to miss another.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like,” you said softly. 
Astarion hummed in acknowledgment and opened his eyes. “I’d catch glimpses while lurking around the city for too long before dawn, hopping from shadow to shadow until I made it back to Cazador’s manor.” His eyes didn’t waver from the sun in the distance. “But there were moments where I’d catch a glimpse of it over the Chionthar.” His tone became sardonic. “The promise of a new day emerging! Something that I would never get to participate in.” He sighed. “I’d linger as long as I could in those moments.” 
You nodded, picturing a hopeful Astarion hiding behind buildings and in alleys, trying to get a fleeting look at a phenomenon that occurred every day, one that you took for granted. Your heart ached for him. 
He continued. “I never quite told you what Cazador made his spawn do for him.”
You tried to recall what Astarion had said to you before. Only that he’d been made to go out into the city and bring back “the most beautiful souls” he could find. Then Cazador would make him either drink from a disgusting dead rat, or abuse him for refusing. The thought made you visibly shudder. 
“I know that you had to bring people back to-” you lowered your voice, as if saying his name might summon him, “-Cazador, against your will. And that he’d kill them.” 
Astarion nodded his head once, remorsefully. “I never told you how we lured them.”
You could see pain etched into his features. You reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. He flinched a bit at the contact, but settled when he looked over at you.
“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.”
“It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.”
“If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.”
Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.” 
You cocked your head sympathetically. “And I take it two hundred years as a slave hasn’t really afforded you any choice.”
“Correct,” he sighed. “As a spawn, your vampiric master has complete control over your body and your actions. Even in moments where I wanted to defy or fight back, I was powerless to do anything.” 
Your heart jumped into your throat. You hadn’t realized that was how it worked. Having no control over yourself or your actions sounded like a complete nightmare and you were glad that you’d hopefully never have to experience it. Knowing that that had been Astarion’s entire existence for the past two centuries made you sick to your stomach. 
“I’m sorry,” you said, just as you’d said the last few times he’d shared glimpses of his past.
Astarion’s eyes were closed once again as he inhaled deeply, then exhaled. He continued to bask in the rising sun for a few silent moments and you watched as it slowly rose higher into the sky. 
“That nightmare I had,” he said, his voice coming out quiet, “I’ve had it before.”
Again, you said nothing and waited for him to continue.
“I actually had the same one the night you let me drink your blood for the first time.”
“Oh, please don’t tell me that drinking my blood was some sort of revenge plot against me for haunting your nightmares.”
Astarion smiled a little. “No, it wasn’t about you. It was about Cazador.”
“You know, I’m really starting to dislike this guy,” you said, knowing how difficult this was for him and trying to keep his mood up with another little joke. 
“You and me both,” he sounded tired. “In the dream, I’m in the forest. Cazador appears and recites the rules of being his vampire spawn.” He held up his hand and recounted them on his fingers: “‘First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things. Third, thou shalt not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine.’” 
You listened patiently as Astarion recited each rule almost mechanically. You scrunched your nose with each passing instruction and rolled your eyes dramatically when Astarion finished.
“What a prick.”
He smiled again. “With an archaic speech pattern.”
“I was going to mention his archaic speech pattern.”
The smile faded slowly as Astarion returned to his thoughts. “The dream ends with Cazador telling me I’m his forever. That I can never escape.” 
You let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” he said humorlessly. He laid down fully on his back, the sun high enough to bathe him completely in its glow. He rested his arms behind his head and angled himself to look at you. “I realized, if I could walk in the sun, what other vampiric laws could I break?”
You looked down at him, admiring the light glinting off his bare chest. “So you decided to test your theory on me? I’m touched.” You held a hand to your chest, pretending to be deeply moved.
“In all honesty, I thought you were the least likely to kill me if I got caught.” He smirked at you. “And it would seem I was right.”
“I wouldn’t have let any of the others kill you,” you said firmly.
Astarion chuckled. “How sweet. My brave little protector.” He reached over to pinch your cheek.
You swatted him away. “Hey, who saved your ass from a bugbear yesterday?”
He shrugged. “I would have been fine.”
You leaned forward and shoved him lightly, making him laugh and throw his arm forward as a shield. 
When his laughter died down, his face grew a touch more serious again. “When you so graciously assaulted me this morning, he’d just finished telling me rule number three; that I can’t leave him unless he tells me to.”
You thought for a moment. “Which begs the question,” Astarion looked over at you expectantly, “how did you end up out here? From what I recall, the sun was still out when the nautiloid reached the Gate. You didn’t have the tadpole yet, so how’d you escape?”
“I wouldn’t say it was much of an escape.” His eyes shifted up to the sky, his expression thoughtful. “I was looking for new victims for Cazador. It was dusk and I had just been given the order to go out and hunt. I was weaving through shadows, avoiding the setting sun, but there’s only so many places one can hide from a giant tentacle that won’t burn you to a crisp. One of the tentacles caught me when I attempted to flee down an alleyway. A complete accident.”
“If it helps, I tripped while running away.”
“Of course you did.” He sighed. “Figures it would take an alien invasion to finally free me from his clutches. Not some,” he waved his hands in the air, gesturing to nothing in particular, “heroic figure sent by the gods to save me and smite that horrible man down to somewhere further and more vile than the Nine Hells.” His hands fell ungracefully to his sides.
He wasn’t wrong. How could any god worth their salt claim to be holier than thou when such suffering was occuring right under their noses? And you were pretty sure, based on tales you’d heard of Mystra and Shar from Gale and Shadowheart, that the gods hadn’t planned for the nautiloids or the rise of the Absolute. Yet if it weren’t for any of that, Astarion would still be trapped in Baldur’s Gate and your adventure thus far would have looked very different.
“If I’d known, I would have done something,” you said, knowing it was more complicated than that, but still wanting to help somehow. 
“Darling, if I’d met you in Baldur’s Gate, I would not have hesitated to take you to Cazador.”
That hurt. 
You said as much. “Ouch.”
“Well,” he sounded angry, though he directed it up towards the sky and not at you, “I wouldn’t have had a choice! Sure, it would have been a little novel, given how inexperienced you are, but regardless, I would have handed you off to him as soon as I’d made you finish.”
Ah. So that was how he lured people. It made sense, now that you put the pieces together; Astarion was so experienced because he had to be. Of course unsuspecting victims would fall prey to the allure of an eternally beautiful vampire, especially the one laying next to you. Of course the promise of pleasure from someone that sexy would be the obvious thing to agree to. It was a wonder your paths had never crossed before the nautiloid. 
“Once,” Astarion broke the silence that had fallen between you, his tone distant, “in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn’t bear to bring back to him.” He finally looked over at you, his eyes full of sadness. “So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man.”
You reached for his hand, then thought better of it. All his snide “don’t touch me’s” on the road now held a new, terrible weight.
“After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence”
A hand flew to your mouth. “Astarion…” you felt your eyes begin to prick with tears and did your best to will them away, fearing that they might make Astarion stop sharing.
He went on. “Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out, more months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death.” He took a deep breath, then blew it out shakily. “So no, I wouldn’t have hesitated, had we crossed paths.”
You opened and closed your mouth several times, attempting to find words that could possibly compose an appropriate response to the horrors you currently refused to picture. “I have no words,” is what you finally settled on, followed by an, “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing can make up for that,” he said quietly. “Not even Cazador’s death.” He paused. “Well, it would help a little, but the coward deserves a fate worse than death.”
“Can I hug you?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself.
Astarion blinked a few times, then sat up. “What?”
“I just… you’ve been through such hell and I want to hug you, but I don’t want to touch you without your permission.”
He looked you up and down and saw the sincerity evident on your face. “I… suppose.” He pulled his legs up from where they were still dangling above the ravine and turned to face you head on. 
“Thank you,” you said, still attempting to keep your tears at bay.
You leaned forward and weaved your arms beneath Astarion’s, hooking your arms up and placing your hands on his shoulder blades. You settled your face between his neck and shoulder and could feel that his arms were frozen rigidly in place in front of him. You took a shaky breath and stayed still, allowing Astarion to move at his own pace. 
His arms finally settled around you and he bent his head so his cheek rested against your hair. 
The two of you stayed like that for a while, relishing in the other’s closeness. You moved your hands back and forth across his back absently. When you caught yourself, you pulled back to look at him and asked, “Is it okay that I’m touching your back?”
Astarion chuckled softly. “Yes, my dear. It’s rather nice, actually.”
You smiled and nuzzled your nose into the crook of his neck. Seriously, did he always smell this good?
Despite the pleasant distraction, something was nagging at your thoughts.
“Can I ask you something?” you murmured into his skin.
Astarion sighed dramatically. “If it has anything to do with my fangs, I’ll rip your throat out.”
You snickered to yourself. “No, not another dumb joke, I promise.”
“Then by all means.”
You pulled back once more to look at him in the face. His eyes widened when he saw your nervous expression. You avoided holding his gaze, feeling a little small. 
“Do you… want to be with me?”
Astarion looked taken aback. “What?”
“I mean… well…” You were having trouble sorting through your thoughts. Who were you to make this moment about yourself when Astarion had just been so open with you? And why couldn’t you trust him in what he had told you last night? Still, you had to know. You’d made it clear how much you cared for him and how much sleeping with him had meant to you. 
Given his past experiences, it made sense why he’d sleep with you, but you wanted to hear him say it. If this was all some ploy to manipulate you into doing what he wanted, even without Cazador’s instruction, you needed to know now. 
“Was I… just another conquest?” you asked, your tears reemerging. “Because if that’s the case, then I think we should end whatever this is.”
Astarion’s face was now inches away from yours. He moved a hand from your back and shifted it up to wipe a wayward tear that had escaped. He said your name softly.
“No, my sweet,” his other hand started rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled back a little. “Well, yes.”
You scoffed, another tear rolling down your cheek. 
Astarion was quick to correct. “No, no! I mean, at first, yes, it was my plan to seduce you and sleep with you.”
You let out a small whimpering noise and he tried to catch your eye. You kept your gaze glued on something in the distance, unseeing.
Astarion cleared his throat. “You- You’re valuable; someone willing to feed me, someone who advocated for me to stay with you all, even though you knew vampires were dangerous, someone who would protect me in battle, even if it meant sacrificing something important to you.”
Try as he might to get your attention back on him, your face remained blank as you stared into the distance.
“I wanted your continued protection.” He shrugged. “Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in and I thought I could secure that with sex.”
That got you to look at him, a sour expression on your face. “Have you met me?”
Astarion chuckled. “Yes, I have. And that’s what threw me for such a loop.”
You humphed.
“When I realized you’d be more of a challenge, I modified my plan.”
“I don’t love the direction this is headed.”
“Stay with me, darling” he said, “I promise I’m going somewhere with this.”
You exhaled and nodded for him to continue. 
“I did want to give you a good first experience, that much was true, but I will admit that I was still planning on using you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You realize how bad this sounds, right?”
“Will you-” he sighed. “Let me finish, damn you,” he brought his forehead to yours briefly, then pulled back. “So imagine how stupid I felt when I realized I genuinely felt something for you.”
That made you smile softly. 
He groaned. “And yes, it is because I find you to be… a lot of fun.” The last phrase sounded like it hurt coming out. 
Your soft smile transformed into one of smug satisfaction. “And when did you come to this conclusion?”
“Well first of all, look at you.” He smiled slyly and you playfully pushed his face away from yours, just as you had last night. After a moment, Astarion looked up, as if searching through his thoughts. “I suppose I’ve always found you to be amusing. You were so easy to fool in the beginning. I mean, the very first day we met, you thought I had one of those brain things cornered.”
“I had no reason not to believe you! And then you held a knife to my throat!” “Ah, memories,” he sighed wistfully. “But then we started traveling together, and I don’t think I’ve ever laughed more. Killing those goblins outside the Grove, fooling those trolls into working for us, taking out those Paladins of Tyr… you always had a sarcastic comment to contend with my sarcastic comments. Which is saying something.”
You snorted. “As if I wouldn’t have something to say.”
Astarion nodded. “You do talk a lot.” 
You chuckled softly, feeling better. Your arms were still wrapped around Astarion.
“It was when I kissed you.” His tone was thoughtful.
“Hmm?”
“When I really kissed you for the first time, there was something different about it.” His eyes flicked down to your lips momentarily. “Suddenly everything we’d been through came rushing back to my mind and there was this… pleasure I hadn’t felt. In an awfully long time.”
You smiled like a dope, bringing your forehead to his.
“I realized you weren’t going anywhere. And that you genuinely cared about what I thought and what I wanted.” He looked at you almost shyly. “No one in the past two hundred years has stayed.” Astarion pulled back and his inflection became flamboyant and playful: “Not that they had much of a choice, but it was a somewhat shocking revelation.” His tone then returned to one of sincerity: “And no one has cared for me as you have.”
You looked away, embarrassed by the kind words.“What can I say, I’m incredible.”
Astarion blew out a cool puff of air that tickled your face. “Annoyingly, you are.”
You looked back at him and smirked. “For me, it was when you asked me how I’d want to die.”
Astarion snorted. “Pardon?”
“When you asked me how I wanted to die on one of our first nights at camp. I genuinely had the thought, ‘Now here’s a guy who knows how to have a good time.’”
Astarion laughed brightly. You mirrored his grin.
“You said you wanted to be decapitated.” 
“How romantic of me,” he said, raising a seductive eyebrow. 
“Well it did spark the crush I’ve been harboring this whole time,” you felt your face heat up at the admission. “That, and your stupid beautiful face.”
Astarion sniffed mockingly. “Thank you, not enough people mention that.” Then he looked at you fondly. “But that long, eh? How adorable.” He rubbed his nose against yours teasingly. “And here you thought nothing would come of it.”
“Nothing usually does!” you exclaimed.
He laughed and leaned forward to kiss you once. “Not so loud.”
You lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the empty landscape around you. Astarion shrugged. You lowered your voice despite the lack of other people to bother.
“I am glad something came of it this time.” You settled your forehead onto his shoulder.
“As am I, my love,” he kissed your hair. “Though I have something else to admit.”
You pulled back and looked at him curiously.
Out of nowhere, he presented you with a knife.
“I did have a knife.”
You scoffed incredulously and whacked his arm. “I KNEW YOU HAD A KNIFE, YOU BASTARD!” You laughed loudly and pushed him backwards. 
He fell back onto his arms, laughing with you as you crawled on top and kissed him deeply. 
“Careful darling,” he murmured against your lips, “don’t move.”
You paused your movements, your lips still pressed firmly against his own. Astarion turned his head slightly to look over to his left at the treeline you’d emerged from not too long ago. You pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth and felt him grin. Then you felt his right arm come up and jerk slightly, followed by a “THUNK” sound off to your right. 
You waited a moment before you asked, “Can I move?” Your mouth was smushed against his face and your voice came out muffled.
He chuckled. “Yes, you can move now.” 
You sat up and looked to your right, the knife Astarion had pulled was now wedged deeply into the trunk of a nearby tree. You raised your eyebrows at him.
He stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam, his voice straining as he went. “Impressed?”
“Honestly? Yes.” You leaned back down and kissed him again. 
He hummed and his mouth moved against yours at a leisurely pace, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You kissed down his jaw and throat before coming to his collarbone and stopping.
“You’re sure you don’t want to fuck me again?” Your words came out a little shy and Astarion laughed. 
He twirled the ends of your hair around his finger. “Delicious as you were, my sweet, I think I’d prefer to take my time with you.” 
You pursed your lips, disappointed. 
“That’s not to say I don’t want to, darling, but…” His fingers stopped twirling your hair as he thought. “Like you said earlier, so much has changed in the last few hours. I’ve only just discovered that I can sleep with somebody because I actually want to.” His hand moved from your hair to your cheek. “I think I need some time to adjust to that.”
You nodded and bent to kiss him. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”
He smiled up at you. “Thank you.”
You spent a few moments just looking at him, admiring how his eyes sparkled in the sun like rubies. You sighed noticeably. 
“What is it, love?”
You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”
“Darling…” He raised his eyebrows at you. 
“No, it’s inappropriate right now.” You looked away.
You felt his hand in your hair, and his voice was conspiratory, “I love when you talk dirty.”
You sighed again and looked him in the eye. “One of these days, when you’re ready, I’m going to look into your gorgeous eyes as I make you come.”
Astarion sputtered out a surprised laugh. “Easy there, lover,” he gave you a sultry look, “I may just take you up on that.”
You sat up and spread your hands over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”
He brought both hands up to his face and groaned loudly before dragging them back down his face and looking at you. “Come lay in the sun with me, will you?”
You pouted but rolled off of him and curled into his side. 
“There now,” he said, arching his chest upwards towards the sky where the sun had now risen for the day, “isn’t this nice?”
You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the trees and the sounds of the ravine below. You exhaled and closed your eyes, warmed by the sun and comforted by the presence of Astarion beside you. He himself had his eyes closed and looked peacefully content. You nuzzled further into his side, enjoying how his cool skin contrasted with the warmth coming from above.
Before you could even register that you were still tired from your early wakeup call this morning, you’d drifted back into a comfortable sleep.
~~~~~
You were awoken some time later by a lick to the face. 
You shut your eyes tighter and groaned. “Gross, Astarion, I’m trying to sleep.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the sun now directly overhead. 
“Did you find them, boy?” A voice shouted from the distance.
Your eyes shot open and found Scratch panting above you, wagging his tail excitedly. 
You sat up quickly and immediately leaned over to shake Astarion who appeared to be trancing soundly. 
“Astarion,” you shook him anxiously. 
He scowled, his eyes still closed. He groaned lowly.
“Astarion, my dear, my sweet, my beloved,” you shook him harder and his eyes opened immediately. He sat up, fast as lightning.
“What’s happening? Where’s my knife?” He looked around frantically until his eyes landed on you. “Ah,” he said, calming, “déjà vu.” 
“They’re coming,” you hissed.
“Who?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, thoughts still foggy from his trance. 
“No FUCKING way!” Came Karlach’s voice from the treeline. 
You looked over and found her with an elated grin on her face and her hands on her knees. She started laughing loudly and you hid your face in your hands. 
“You guys did NOT,” she wheezed. 
“Hello Karlach,” Astarion’s voice sounded nonchalant beside you. “What brings you out to ruin our beauty sleep?” 
“Did you find them?” Shadowheart soon emerged from the forest and stopped in her tracks. She surveyed the area and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Astarion, tell me you didn’t.”
“Did what, darling?” He sounded smug and you looked over at him. His expression matched his tone. “You’ll have to be more specific.” He rested his chin on your shoulder.
“I fucking knew this would happen,” Karlach said, coming down from her laughing fit. “Soldier’s had her eye on you for a while now, Fangs.”
“Karlach!” You whisper-shouted.
“Oh, I’m aware,” you felt Astarion turn his head to look at you. 
Suddenly Gale, Lae’zel, and Wyll joined the fray. Scratch ran to them and happily weaved between them as they emerged. 
“We heard a commotion, did you find them?” Gale halted when he saw you and Astarion sitting together on the ground, him shirtless, you wearing his shirt. “No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yes,” Astarion said, tilting his head against yours. You gave him a dirty look. 
“Chk! Was that filthy nest of our blankets your doing?” Lae’zel asked, cradling her greatsword proudly. 
You groaned and hid your face in your hands again. 
“It would appear so,” Wyll confirmed awkwardly. 
“You vampires have a disgusting way of mating if that nest was any indication,” Lae’zel narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose in the air judgmentally. “Far too soft.”
Astarion scoffed and pulled back from you. “I’ll have you know that vampires mate in the most satisfying- well, we don’t mate, necessarily, we’re not dogs, but we, well at least I, am always an exemplary lover.”
Shadowheart ignored him and walked forward, crouching down and resting a hand on your shoulder. You looked at her. “Are you okay?”
“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“He didn’t… coerce you into something, did he?”
“Excuse me?” Astarion sounded insulted. “I always ask permission first, darling.”
“Your charms can be quite overwhelming at times, Astarion,” Gale said. 
“And wouldn’t you like having my charms turned on you, wizard,” Astarion sneered. 
“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Wyll held up his hands, gesturing for the others to relax.
“Everyone!” You raised your voice. All eyes settled on you. “Nothing happened between us that I didn’t expressly and happily agree to.”
Karlach started chuckling again. “Good for you, Soldier.”
“Thank you, Karlach,” said Astarion. 
You narrowed your eyes at him. 
He shrugged. “What?”
You groaned and stood up, wiping grass and forest debris off your clothes. You adjusted Astarion’s shirt on your shoulders, making sure you weren’t showing off too much to your companions. 
“Is there a reason you all came out here? Or was it just to mortify me? Because mission accomplished!”
“It’s midday,” informed Wyll. “We grew worried when the two of you seemingly vanished and didn’t return.”
“Halsin and the tieflings are coming to camp tonight to celebrate our victory against the goblins,” Shadowheart crossed her arms. 
“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a great look if our leader and the gangly one were missing,” Gale said.
“Gangly?!” Astarion exclaimed, very clearly not gangly. 
“You’re- okay, well, I hadn’t seen you shirtless before now,” Gale amended. 
“Like what you see?” Astarion teased. 
“Astarion,” you scolded. 
He sighed and got up, wrapping an arm around you and resting a hand on your hip. 
You went red as you watched your companions track his hand. 
“Listen, people,” Astarion said, sounding serious. 
You saw your companions’ eyes shift to the vampire. 
“Don’t give her a hard time. This was my doing.” Shadowheart was about to say something but Astarion raised his voice a bit. “While yes, she gave permission in everything that we did, this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t suggested it in the first place.”
“I could have suggested something much better, surely,” Lae’zel huffed.
“I mean, did you-?” Karlach thrust her hips in the air with her fists at her sides.
“Oh my gods,” you groaned.
“I don’t kiss and tell, darling,” Astarion said, squeezing your hip slightly. 
Karlach smirked smugly and winked at you both. 
You shook your head and looked up, silently begging any god that was listening to kill you and to do it quickly. 
“We should get back to camp,” Wyll suggested diplomatically. “Let these two collect themselves.” 
“So what does this mean?” Shadowheart asked, ignoring Wyll. 
“Shadowheart,” Wyll warned but she waved him off.
“What do you mean?” You asked.
“Are you only going to sleep with the pathetic vampire moving forward?” Lae’zel stated bluntly.
You and Astarion looked at each other. You saw the slightest flash of uncertainty in his eyes and smiled. “If he’ll let me,” you said. 
A small smile appeared on his face in return.
Lae’zel groaned. “K'chakhi. Your loss.” She turned and walked back into the forest, slinging her greatsword over her back.
You bit your lip, feeling guilty about Lae’zel’s feelings, but Karlach soon slid into your vision. “Congrats, you crazy kids,” she laughed and pretended to punch your arm, then followed on Lae’zel’s heels, Scratch bounding close behind her.
Gale walked over, his face stoic. He stood in front of Astarion and held out his hand. 
Astarion scowled. “What is this, do you want some sort of handout?” 
“I want to shake your hand, you buffoon,” Gale sounded frustrated. 
“Gale…” you said sorrowfully. 
“No no, think nothing of it,” he waved you off. “The right man won out in the end.”
Astarion took his hand and shook it. “Better luck next time,” he jeered. 
“Astarion,” you scolded again. “You both know I’m not something to win, right?”
“Of course you’re not,” Gale nodded. “Apologies, I misspoke. I’ll see you both at camp. Lunch is bread and cheese to save room for tonight’s festivities.” He stiffly turned and walked back towards the trees. Wyll gave him a sympathetic look, then caught your eye. He nodded somewhat sadly and followed after Gale. 
“Well that certainly doesn’t feel good,” you said, holding a hand to your chest and breathing deeply.
“Not quite finished yet, love,” Astarion nodded over towards Shadowheart who lingered nearby. 
She approached slowly, holding her hands behind her back. Astarion released your hip and moved away, sensing what Shadowheart aimed to do. You looked at him curiously, but your attention was drawn back to Shadowheart as she threw her arms around your neck. 
“You’re happy?” She asked softly.
“Shadowheart…” you smiled into her hair. “Yes, I’m happy. Thank you.”
She pulled back to look at you in the eyes, double checking your expression. When she saw that you were genuine, she nodded. She cleared her throat and looked over at Astarion. 
She pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Hurt her, and you will never know a happy day again.”
Astarion held up his hands defensively. “I won’t-”
“You have never known the pain of Lady Shar’s wrath, and you’d be smart to keep it that way, so help me gods, Astarion.”
“I got it,” he said flatly. 
“Our Lady of Loss would not hesitate to strike you where you stand-”
“I think he gets it,” you said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”
Shadowheart narrowed her eyes at Astarion before she looked back at you. “I’ll see you at camp. Don’t dally.” She looked pointedly at Astarion who shrugged helplessly. 
When she headed back into the forest, you and Astarion were finally alone. 
You let out a heavy sigh.
“That was a lot,” Astarion joined you at your side.
“Wait, did you know those people?” you smirked at him.
“Vaguely,” he smirked back and caught you in a kiss. “At least I don’t have to hold back from doing that at camp now.” He held you close in his arms.
You sighed again and laid your head on his shoulder. “You were right. I didn’t realize so many of them felt something for me.”
“That seems to be because you block out the advances of others.”
You shoved him playfully. “How dare you turn my pitiful backstory against me.”
He smiled and held out his hand. “Come on, let’s go dismantle that ‘disgusting’ nest.” He did his best to impersonate Lae’zel on “disgusting.” 
It made you laugh. “Okay.”
You took his hand and let him lead you through the trees back to the blankets and pillows that you’d spent the night on. 
When you arrived, you picked up your shirt and bra, feeling mild embarrassment that the others had probably seen them and drawn (correct) conclusions. You removed Astarion’s shirt and threw it back at him, hitting him in the face and quickly covered your chest with your forearm. 
Astarion laughed as his shirt fell into his awaiting hands. “Darling, you don’t have to hide from me,” he narrowed his eyes seductively. “I’ve already seen it all.” He tossed the shirt aside and made his way over to you.
“Feels different in the light of day,” you admitted self-consciously. “Worse, I guess.”
“Now, now,” he said, gently pulling your arm away from your chest, “let me see you in the daylight.” You allowed him to move your arm but didn’t look at him. “Lovely,” he breathed, and kissed you hard. 
You inhaled in surprise, but immediately gave in and slipped your tongue into his mouth and your arms over his shoulders. His hand came up and began massaging your left breast, his icy touch sending a shock wave through you and making you moan. 
Instantly, you pulled away and took a step back. “Careful,” you said as Astarion stared at you wide-eyed, his hand frozen in the air where he’d been palming your breast, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”
He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a dry heave. “Stop being so nice to me,” he avoided your gaze. “It makes me want to… be nice back.”
“Gods forbid,” you laughed, and bent to pick up your bra which had fallen back amongst the pillows. 
All of a sudden, you found yourself face down in the blankets, the wind knocked out of you and Astarion’s body weight pressed firmly on top of you.
“Astarion,” you wheezed, “what are you doing?”
His voice was sultry in your ear, “If you’ll remember, I said I wanted to take my time with you.”
Sexy as that was, you couldn’t breathe. You reached behind yourself and smacked Astarion’s back with your palm. “Living creatures need to breathe, idiot!”
“Oh,” he realized his error and rolled off of you. You had no time to adjust yourself before he flipped you over and hovered above you on his hands and knees. 
You blew some hair out of your face, irritated. “Did you just tackle me like I was some sort of prey?”
“My dear, I would never,” he bowed his head and kissed your neck.
“And yet I find myself on the ground, even though I didn’t put myself here,” you tangled your hands in his hair, your voice wobbly. 
“You’ve always been rather clumsy,” he murmured teasingly. 
You took a deep breath and pushed him away. His lips were still puckered, making you giggle. “Shadowheart told us not to dally,” you reminded him. “And she threatened to kill you, what? Three times?”
“You forget that I’m already dead,” he smiled. “What’s another little death?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
You snorted. “Bad.”
“I thought that was rather clever, actually.”
You rolled your eyes affectionately. “We should really head back.”
Astarion whined and hung his head. “Let me have you again, woman!”
“But you said-”
“I know what I said!” He lifted his head and looked you in the eye. “And while I appreciate your concern, right now, I very much want to be inside of you again.”
You smiled cautiously. “Are you sure?”
He rolled his eyes and kissed you, lowering his body to roll his hips against yours and making his erection very obviously. You jolted at the unexpected sensation and he pulled back.
“Unless this is too much for you,” he searched your face for hesitancy. “You’re probably still sore and we don’t have to rush anything-”
You gripped the back of his head and tightened your fist into his curls. “Please,” you whispered, “fuck me again.”
A wicked grin bloomed on Astarion’s face and he kissed you passionately, rolling his hips against yours for friction. You moaned into his mouth, but he broke the kiss after only a few moments. “Like I said, love, I want to take my time with you.”
He rose up onto his knees and began untying the laces of your pants. You watched him intently and bit your lip as he removed them fully from your legs. He made quick work of his own and crawled back on top of you. His thumb hooked under your panties and his eyes met yours. You nodded and he pulled them down gently and discarded them close by. He then laid beside you, his eyes heavy with lust.
“Come here, precious thing,” he purred and you inched yourself closer to him. “Turn around,” he instructed. You gave him a confused half smile but did what he asked. He reached forward and pulled your hips back, causing you to feel his still-clothed cock against your ass.
“What are you doing?” you asked nervously. 
Astarion chuckled. “Not that, fear not.” He kissed your shoulder as he slid his left arm under you and settled his hand on your lower stomach. A chill ran through you as he nuzzled his head onto your shoulder. “Fair warning,” you could hear the mischief in his voice as his right hand made itself known in front of your face. He wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave, then brought it down between your thighs. 
A gasp escaped your throat when you felt his fingers swipe through your folds.
Astarion tilted his head and kissed your throat. “So wet already, darling.”
“You’re handsome,” you said by way of explanation.
He hummed against your shoulder and began to rub your clit. A shuddering breath left your mouth and your eyes fluttered shut. Astarion paused for a moment to lift your leg and hike it back over his. “This will feel good,” he said against your skin and dragged his fingers through your folds again before inserting a digit into your cunt. 
You threw your head back in surprised pleasure, which made Astarion turn and nip at your ear. He began pumping and curling his finger slowly inside of you. Your breath caught when his thumb resumed its spot on your clit and whined when his finger inside of you hit a particularly sensitive spot. He adjusted his angle to hit it repeatedly. 
“Astarion,” you moaned, your head clouded with nothing but ecstasy. 
“Yes, my sweet, you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice was sensual in your ear. “Do you think you can take a little more?”
You nodded, your eyes shut tight. 
“Words, darling.”
“Another…” you said breathily.
“Another what?”
Your voice was sing-songy. “Astarion, if you don’t put another finger in me right now, I’m leaving you.”
He laughed loudly before moving his mouth close to your ear again. “You like me too much.” Then he leaned up a little to catch your eye, his finger still pumping between your thighs. “Right?”
You smiled sympathetically, seeing your words had spooked him a little. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere,” you clarified. “But I might kill you.”
“Got it,” Astarion dragged his index finger through your folds, then carefully added it to your cunt alongside his middle finger. 
You exhaled, moving your hand down from his cheek to his hand resting on your stomach. You laced your fingers together and squeezed when he hit a particularly good spot, getting you to moan out an, “Oh, gods.”
“Like that?” He asked cockily, reaching and curling to hit the spot again. 
“Yes, my love,” you sighed, grinning upwards with your eyes closed. 
Behind you, you felt Astarion’s cock twitch.
Your eyes opened and you looked back at him. 
He smiled back at you sheepishly. “It does that sometimes, darling. When something is particularly arousing.”
Your breaths were coming out short and keeping in time with the pumping of his fingers. “Was it… ‘my love?’”
Astarion let out a low moan and hid his face in your shoulder before reemerging and nodding. “Coming from you while you’re in the throes of passion with me is really… something.”
You laughed between whimpers. “My… loooooove,” you sang, squeezing his hand again. “Your fingers feel heavenly, my looooove.”
“Fuck this,” Astarion said, pulling his fingers out of you unceremoniously and curling you forward with his body so he could shimmy out of his underwear. 
“What are you doing,” you winced and whined childishly, “I was so close!”
“Unfortunately, darling, if I’m not inside you within a matter of seconds, I’m going to lose it completely.”
“Wouldn’t want that,” you said, half dazed and still coming down from your almost climax. 
You felt his hand bump your ass as he pumped his cock and you instantly went stiff. “You’re not going to…?”
Astarion let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my sweet, you’re not nearly ready for something like that yet.”
A relieved sigh escaped you. 
“We could always work our way up-”
“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly. 
“There’s nothing wrong with-”
“No, of course not-”
“But we can-”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” you patted Astarion’s cheek.
“Understood,” he nodded and resumed pumping his cock. “Hook your leg back over mine, darling.” When you followed his instruction, he kissed your shoulder once more. You felt the head of his cock glide through your folds until it prodded at your entrance and you let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t be scared,” he muttered, squeezing your hand. “Are you ready?”
You inhaled. “Yes.”
Just as he had last night, Astarion was slow to enter you. This time you heard him whimpering with his mouth so close to your ear. 
“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging his fangs from your shoulder to your neck, “still so tight.”
“Obviously,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut, but not feeling nearly as uncomfortable as you had the first time he’d entered you. You let out a satisfied exhale when his hips bumped your ass. 
“Let me know what I can move,” Astarion said against your skin, his words barely recognizable. 
“You can move,” you said almost immediately, reaching a hand up behind you and twisting it into Astarion’s hair. You moved it over a little to play with the tip of his ear.
He let out a loud groan and snapped his hips forward, probably with more force than he meant to. “Apologies,” he whispered, “that felt heavenly.”
“Keep going, my love,” you encouraged and he caught your eye with a seductive smile. 
He continued to pump his cock into your dripping hole and brought his right hand down to your clit. He licked a stripe from your neck up to your ear. “You know, I really did intend to take my time with you just now,” he spoke lowly from the back of his throat. As if to illustrate his point, he slowed his hips to take long, languid strokes out, and then moved back into you at an equally slow pace. His thumb on your clit slowed as he disconnected his left hand from yours and brought it up to fondle your breast. He kissed up your shoulder to your neck sloppily and sucked on the fading bite marks from last night. 
You moaned loudly, hooking your foot around his calf and tightening your fist in his hair. “We’d really be dallying, then,” you commented.
He made a frustrated noise. “Don’t even allude to the cleric right now,” he pulled away from your neck. “Unless it’s to tell me I’m a much better lover than her.” He snapped his hips into you, hard. 
“I don’t have much of a reference, genius,” you responded breathlessly. 
“Right,” he said, and picked up speed at your clit. His mouth returned to sucking on your throat. 
“Oohhh,” you sighed. You let out a gasp when Astarion’s left hand pinched your nipple.
“You feel wonderful, my darling,” spit connected him to your neck.
“So do you,” you brought your hand up to cover Astarion’s that was kneading your breast. “You can bite me, if you want.”
He groaned loudly and bumped his nose against your jaw. “Well,” he said between thrusts, “if you insist.” 
He kissed your throat before biting down, his hips instantly picking up speed. 
The ice that shot into your veins was a shock as always, but melted into a fuzzy pleasure that had your eyes drooping in ecstasy. 
Astarion took long pulls of your blood as he continued thrusting, circling your clit, and needing your breast. How he was keeping track of everything at once was beyond you in this pleasant, foggy state. 
“Darling,” he pulled away suddenly, swallowing loudly and seemingly out of breath. “May I taste you as you come?”
Your tongue lolled to the side, but his voice snapped you out of it. You nodded up at him. “Yes, please.”
“What do you need?” He licked the wounds on your neck. 
“As much as I’m enjoying you taking your time,” you said, “harder and faster.”
“Easy,” a cocky grin graced his face as a drop of your blood dripped down his chin. 
His hips picked up a brutal pace that nearly had you reaching your peak, and he pressed further onto your clit, his tight circles picking up speed as well. 
“Oh, Astarion,” you moaned loudly, reaching back again to grip his hair.
“Come for me, dearest,” he spoke softly against your throat, but loud enough that you could hear, “I want to hear you sing again. I want to taste how sweet your blood is when I make you cum on my cock.” He continued leaving sloppy kisses against your neck.
“I’m close,” you confirmed, your eyes shut tight and your body tensing. 
“Go ahead, love, I’ve got you,” his hard thrusts were becoming uneven, but ever the professional, his voice remained mostly even. “You’re so tight and warm, thank you for letting me taste you.” He kissed your mouth. “Darling.” Another kiss. “Beloved.” One more. “Mine.”
You cried out as you fell over the edge, your cunt squeezing his cock repeatedly, only to cry out again as you felt Astarion’s fangs enter your neck once more. 
“Astarion!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and pulling his hair and wrapping your shaking leg around his. Almost simultaneously, you felt Astarion spill inside you as he moaned your name loudly into your neck, his hips pulsing clumsily against you. 
The sensation of him drawing your blood was still pleasantly fuzzy, but you could feel yourself becoming light headed. You tapped his arm twice, your signal for him to stop, and he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your temple and breathing heavily. 
“Still cumming,” he groaned and clenched his teeth, his hips faltering in their rhythm. 
After another moment, his body finally relaxed and he pulled you closer into his chest, catching his breath. “That was… amazing,” he sighed happily, leaning forward to lick the remaining blood from your neck. “If I knew blood could taste that good-” His voice trailed off. “Well, I’m sure I’d do something about it if I could.” He seemed pleased with his own answer and hummed contentedly behind you.
“I’m glad it was to your liking,” you said, looking back at him with a smile. He bent forward and kissed you happily. “I’m like a fine vintage,” you teased.
Astarion pursed his lips. “You’re far from vintage, darling, you’ll have to work on your wine related japes.” 
You laughed and a comfortable silence fell between you. Astarion rested both of his hands on your stomach. Which growled suddenly.
“What’s that like?” He teased, licking a wayward drop of blood from the side of his mouth. 
Your body tensed. “Oh gods, bread and cheese!”
Astarion blinked at you. “Are those some sort of new deities I’m not aware of, or-?”
“No, that’s what Gale said we’re having for lunch.”
“And that’s important because-?”
“Because we DALLIED and there’s a PARTY tonight and now Shadowheart is going to KILL us.”
“I see.” Astarion remained still, fixed in place. Then suddenly he was pulling out of you at a breakneck speed and reaching for his clothes. 
You winced a little at the sensation but scrambled for your own clothes, wiping yourself down with the cloth Astarion provided again and got dressed in what was probably record time. 
Incredibly, you both looked presentable. 
“We do make a gorgeous pair,” Astarion cocked his hip and smirked at you, going in for a kiss.
You swatted him away. “Enough flirting, loverboy, we can talk about us later!” You started reaching for blankets and pillows. 
“Us,” Astarion stood on the sidelines, testing out the word on his tongue. “I do so like the sound of that.”
“Help me, would you?” You threw a pile of blankets at him, hitting him in the face and blowing his hair back. 
He groaned. “It should be a crime to rush after you’ve just made love to the most amazing woman.” He came up behind you and smacked your butt teasingly. 
You stood up straight and tried to look angry. “We are going to die if we don’t head back right now.” Astarion wasn’t buying your anger, so you turned bashful. “You made loooove to me?” You clasped your hands together by your face. “You think I’m amaaaazing?” You twirled some of your hair for good measure.
Astarion sighed. “Be serious, woman, we’re going to die!” His voice was exasperated but he smirked at you. He bent to pick up more blankets and pillows and you did the same until you both had piles you could barely see over and nothing was left behind.
“Ugh, I’m going to have to do so much laundry,” you muttered. “Seriously, how did you manage bringing all this out here?”
“Well first, everything was folded neatly.”
“We don’t have time.”
“And second, multiple trips, darling.”
“We can’t afford to leave camp EVER again.”
Try as you might to rush back to camp, you still had to maneuver through a forest and be careful where you stepped. The pair of you moved as quickly as you could, which wasn’t as fast as was probably necessary to avoid Shadowheart’s ire. 
“Soooo…” You broke the silence after a few moments. 
“Gods,” Astarion rolled his eyes, “what?”
“‘My love,’ huh?” You waggled your eyebrows at him.
“What about it?”
“You liiiiiiked it,” you teased. 
“I-” You could see that he thought about arguing but decided not to. “I’m not used to the pet names turned on me. It’s… nice.”
“You’re cute,” you said, looking over at him affectionately and nearly tripping over a tree root as a result.
Astarion snickered, then made his face serious. “I’m the furthest thing from cute. I’m a horrifying monster.” He lowered his voice as if that would back him up.
“Yeah, but you like being mushy.” 
“I do not.”
“You do!” You moved closer to him and bumped his hip with your own. “You were so sweet to me yesterday. And just now.” 
“It’s different with you,” he said quietly.
“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows.
“It’s… um… This is stupid, I hate it.” He tried to walk ahead of you but you caught up easily.
“No, no! Please.” You gave him a reassuring look. “I, of all people, will not judge you.”
He sighed. “It’s just… nice to feel like something is mine.” He was quick to correct, “Not that I own you but… I don’t know. You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just… one night it’s better to forget. You’re something entirely new.”
You smiled over at him. “I like you too, weirdo.”
Astarion humphed. “Whatever.” He moved closer and bumped your hip with his own. The two of you shared a fond look, then turned back to the path ahead.
If Shadowheart was going to kill you, at least you’d die together. 
You both quickened your pace to try and avoid that fate, but it was a lovely thought.
Soon, you began to make out the bright colors of your tents through the trees and the sound of your companions chatting by the fire. 
You turned to Astarion. “See you on the other side.”
He nodded, determined. “It’s been a pleasure servicing you, darling.”
“I hope she kills you first.”
You shared a laugh before you took a calming breath. 
And stepped into camp. 
526 notes · View notes
the-magpie-collective · 1 month ago
Text
Wyll seems to be the only companion who intentionally and repeatedly uses the mindflayer tadpole to communicate. I did a quick search through the dialogue files and the only other instance I found was at the beginning of Act I, when Lae'zel is captured by the tieflings, she'll use the tadpole to demand you free her.
And yet, Wyll is one of the companions most against using the tadpole's powers. Arguably, I'd say he's more against it than anyone save for Lae'zel. Which is why I find it so interesting that out of all of companions, Wyll is the one to latch onto and make use of this facet of the tadpole's powers.
The first time Wyll can use the tadpole is when Mizora bids him to rescue Zariel's asset. If the Player succeeds on their perception check, they can bargain with Mizora to free Wyll from his pact. Wyll link his mind with the Player's Character in panic, demanding to know "What are you doing?"
Then again when Wyll is finally reunited with his father, he uses the tadpole to show his father why he pacted with Mizora. Instead of explaining in his own words, he shows him the cultists as they attempt to summon Tiamat into Baldur's Gate. He'll do the same for the Player Character if his father isn't saved, even when he is freed from his pact and could say it in his own words. If the PC refuses to let Wyll show them, he will explain it, but clearly prefers to use the tadpole.
Finally, Wyll will also use the tadpole to bid farewell if he has a falling out with the player character, telling the player "Godspeed, and may your journey be true."
For Wyll, who had spent the last seven years under a devil's thumb, this narrative choice to use the tadpoles to communicate is telling. One thing all of these scenes have in common is that they all emotionally charged moments. They are also moments in which, in my opinion, it is very important for Wyll to convey his sincerity. Wyll has spent the last seven years always dancing around the truth and now here comes along a power where not only can he tell the truth, he can show the truth as he sees it, so that there is much less risk of being misunderstood. A power like that has to be irresistible.
Just another thing I wish was explored more in depth in game.
Edit: Thank you to everyone who pointed out instances when other characters also use the tadpoles to communicate <3
Turns out Wyll/Lae'zel's writer is the only one who bothered to use proper tagging in the dialogue system ('MINDMELD' if you're curious). This is why I can never find what I'm looking for in the dialogue files smh
321 notes · View notes
burnthatbridge · 2 months ago
Text
8x01 misery missing scene
post the sad zoom birthday party also on ao3 if you prefer
They stick around long enough to help clear up. 
The party decorations come down faster than they went up. Each balloon that Buck pops is a perfect mirror to the ball of excitement in his chest that had shattered at Chris’ lacklustre response, at the stuttering video connection. Except, instead of slippery, soft rubber, the shards it left behind are hard, cutting glass. 
“The cake was excellent,” Tommy offers, with forced cheer, into the silence that descends once the sound of balloons bursting and streamers rustling stops. 
“Take the rest with you,” Eddie says, turning away, heading into the kitchen.
Buck follows him, Tommy close behind, and watches Eddie shove the happy birthday banner into the trash, the party hats too. Buck bites his lip on the protest that Eddie should keep them for next year — he doesn’t think he can bear to hear Eddie voice the fear that they might have as little use for them then as they did today. 
“You’re serious about the cake?” Tommy asks, crossing to where it sits on the kitchen table, one solitary slice consumed. Buck had a bite of Tommy’s, and it was good, but he didn’t feel like having his own. And Eddie hadn’t seemed up to stomaching any at all. 
“Yep,” Eddie nods, without looking over. “I don’t want it.” 
Buck pulls a large tupperware container from the cupboard, hands it over to Tommy, who boxes up the cake. But Buck also takes down a smaller container, saves a single slice, and tucks it away in the fridge. He knows Eddie will crave it later — maybe not tonight, but certainly by tomorrow morning — and will wish he hadn’t given it all away. It will be a nice surprise for him — a much needed one — to find that Buck didn’t let him. 
Buck walks the knife used to cut the cake to the sink and Eddie steps in to wash it. Buck hovers at his side, taskless. They had been going to stick around after surprising Chris, have a couple of beers, watch something, but, with how things went, it’s clear that’s not going to happen. 
“Eddie,” Buck starts, wants to ask if he’s okay — knows he’s not — but Eddie cuts him off. 
“Thanks for coming,” he says, clearly a dismissal, bidding them goodnight without looking up for scrubbing at a knife that must be long clean. 
Tommy replies, “Thank you for inviting us,” even though technically only he was; Buck — never a guest in Eddie’s home — more co-host than attendee, had helped to plan the party, and his presence was assumed, certain. 
At the same time, Buck says, “Of course.” He wouldn’t have been anywhere else today, on Chris’ birthday. Not unless flying to Texas to actually see him would have been an option. Hell, if Eddie had wanted to drive over to El Paso to visit, Buck would have gladly played chauffeur for the whole twelve hour drive. 
Tommy drops a reassuring hand onto the stiff surface that is Eddie’s shoulder, pats it, once, twice, three times, to no noticeable softening. “See you later, man.” He moves to the kitchen door, pauses, looking back at Buck. 
Buck takes a tentative step in Tommy’s direction, says, “See you tomorrow, Eds?” It’s supposed to be a statement, like Tommy’s. A stronger one, even, since Buck and Eddie have a shift together the next day, so their seeing each other should be a concrete occurrence, not a vague likelihood. But the words come out sounding more like a question and he doesn’t follow Tommy out of the room until he sees Eddie nod in answer, agreement. 
They only make it as far as the front door before the gnawing concern in Buck’s gut is too much.  
“Wait,” Buck says as Tommy turns the handle.
Tommy stops, door cracked open an inch, but not opening it any wider, and twists to face Buck, looks at him, expectant. 
“I think–” Buck starts, but he doesn’t quite know what he thinks, only that he shouldn’t be leaving now. Even though there’s nothing left to do: all traces of the party stripped away, their evening plans abandoned. Still, he shouldn’t be leaving. Shouldn’t be leaving Eddie. Not like this.
And he should tell Tommy that, explain it to him. Except… He probably doesn’t need to. Tommy knows him, knows Eddie, and he saw firsthand how things went down tonight. So Buck simply asks, “Can I make my own way? Catch you later?”
“Sure, babe.” Tommy’s expression is full of understanding, eyes soft. He tilts his head, slightly. “I’ll wait up for you?”
Buck nods. “Yeah, please.” He leans in, putting his mouth to Tommy’s mouth, pressing goodbye and gratitude into the kiss. 
Tommy pulls back, graces Buck with a small curling of his lips, the smile dimmer than his usual given how the evening has played out, and then he’s over the threshold, toting the tupperware filled to the brim with uncelebrated birthday cake with him. 
Buck closes the door behind him, gently, then pads back through the house. 
Eddie is in the kitchen, but not quite how Buck left him. He’s still facing away, but now, instead of washing the same spot on the blade of the cake knife over and over, he has his hands braced on the edge of the counter, his head hanging down, like the effort of keeping it up has become too much.
He’s got to know Buck hasn’t left, must hear him reentering the room, a single set of footsteps, but he doesn’t acknowledge him in any way. 
Buck goes to him. Stands at Eddie’s side, tries to see his expression in his dim reflection in the window, but it’s tricky with Eddie’s face lowered. “Eddie,” Buck says and is finally rewarded with Eddie looking up, raising his head so that his eyes meet Buck’s in the window.
The agony in his gaze is palpable.
Buck doesn’t know how to help. He saw how little comfort Eddie took from Tommy’s touch, so it seems pointless to try the same. But his hands itch to hold, to smooth over Eddie and check for points of pain, even though he knows his hurt is of the heart, not body. Knows it, because his own is the same. Buck hurts too: for Chris, for Eddie, for himself. 
“Eddie,” Buck repeats, with no destination in mind except a route out of Eddie’s misery. But, if anything, the anguish displayed plainly on Eddie’s face only deepens. He squeezes his eyes shut and his hands fist, fingers curling in so tight his knuckles whiten. 
“I’m losing him,” Eddie says. 
“You’re not,” Buck answers back, automatic, but no less insistent for it. Eddie isn’t losing Chris. He can’t be losing him. They can’t be losing him. 
“I am,” Eddie pushes back, lifting his hands from the counter to gesture wildly, grief uncontainable. “I’m losing him and it’s all my fault.”
“No.” Buck catches Eddie’s wrists, squeezes them, tries to press his belief, his faith, in Chris and Eddie’s relationship into Eddie’s skin, to transfer it to him. “You made a mistake, but he’s going to forgive you. He just needs a little more time.“
“I don’t think I can take any more time without him,” Eddie confesses, and there are tears shining in his eyes. 
Buck drops his hold on Eddie’s arms, but only so he can wind his own around him, tug him into an embrace.
Eddie lets him, tucks his face into Buck’s neck, chokes out, “I just want him to come home.”
“I know,” Buck murmurs, smoothing one hand down the line of Eddie’s spine, his other arm wrapped firmly round his shoulders. “I know. I do too.”
“He loves his grandparents,” Eddie goes on, voice muffled in Buck’s shirt collar. “He could decide to just stay with them.”
“He loves you,” Buck states, an irrefutable fact. This he knows: he has been privileged to witness so much of the love Christopher has for his dad. “He’s not going to stay with them forever.”
“But,” Eddie protests, sounding lost and unsure, his fingers wound in the fabric of Buck’s shirt, his breath damp against Buck skin, “You love your parents. That doesn’t make them good ones. Ones you’d want to be with if you had a better option.”
“You are nothing like my parents.” Buck squeezes Eddie tighter to him, in tune with the ferocity of his words. “You– you are the best father I have ever seen. You love Chris so, so much. And– and he knows you do, he doesn’t have to doubt it.” Not like Buck did, every day of his life.
He continues, “Your mom and dad are not the better option for him. Sure, he’s having a nice summer with them. But, even if he’s still upset right now, I know he’s missing you too. He’s going to come home, because he belongs here, with you.” Of that Buck is sure. It’s Chris and Eddie: their bond is too deep, their relationship too strong, to be broken. 
“But,” Eddie says again, “But what if he–”
“No,” Buck stops him, not willing to let Eddie hurt himself with his thoughts, his fears, more than he already has. “Chris loves you, Eddie. And he’s going to come home to you. He is.”
Buck doesn’t know if Eddie fully believes him, but his words are enough that Eddie slumps completely against him in something like relief. And all his stress and hurt over being separated from his son comes pouring out.
As he sobs, the spasming of his chest heaving against Buck’s and the trickle of his tears sliding down Buck’s skin, Buck holds him. Holds him and presses his lips to his temple and thinks please, Chris, please come home soon. Come home to us. 
237 notes · View notes
cuubism · 10 months ago
Text
i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is
cw injury, referenced abusive relationships
--
Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.
Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.
But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.
"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."
Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.
"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."
Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.
"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.
"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.
Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"
Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.
He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"
Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.
"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.
"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."
He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.
Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.
(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)
"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"
Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"
"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."
Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.
"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."
Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.
Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.
"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.
Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.
Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."
"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.
"As you insist," Dream says.
Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.
"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."
Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.
Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."
"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.
"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."
Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.
"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."
Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.
"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."
He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.
Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."
Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.
652 notes · View notes