#I’m trying to get the hang of Astarion’s features

[leodoodlesstuff]

Fragments 🩸

[nerdallwritey]

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ 𝓛𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 ✦˚₊‧⁺˖

Hi, I'm Emma! Welcome to my writing blog, where there's banter abound!

I'm currently writing Astarion x f!reader fics, but am open to requests! Be warned: My content is NSFW so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it! MDNI

Where else can you find me?

AO3 // Main Blog (I reblog tons of bg3 stuff over there!)

𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔞𝔯𝔡 - (Posted in order chronologically)

An Evening to Ourselves (18+): When Astarion propositions you for the first time, you're anything but excited. // AO3

“I, uh-” It was too much. The look on his face was too intense. You felt too exposed despite the layers of armor currently clad to your body. “I’m scared,” you admitted quietly. “Don’t be,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. “I’ll be gentle.”

Just to Ruin Me (18+): The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two. // AO3

“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.”

Cheeks All Flushed (18+): It's time for the Tielfing party! Antics ensue. // Part 1 // Part 2 // AO3

You looked at him thoughtfully. “Hang on, weren’t you and Karlach trying to get drunk?” Astarion giggled stupidly. “Yes.” You snorted. “How’d that go?” “Fine,” he sighed. “Takes me a lot longer to get drunk. What with the dead liver and all.” You furrowed your brow. “Wouldn’t lacking a working liver make you drunk immediately?” Astarion whined, “I don’t know, but Karlach is completely inebriated and I only have a buzz I can already feel fading.”

Perfect Every Time (18+): Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together. // AO3

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.  “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.  You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. 

Worth the Peril (18+): Upon arriving in the Underdark, you go down in a battle, leaving Astarion to pick up the pieces. // AO3

In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian.  Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it. And right now, he was entering a rage.

About to Strike (18+): The gang finally makes their way into the Shadow Cursed Lands. // Part 1 // Part 2 // AO3

Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink. He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?” “Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira. Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well. “Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet. “You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms.

More to come!

𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔠 - (One Shots)

Don't! Cross! This! Line! With Your Hand. (Mature): Astarion asks for help with reading the scars on his back. You give him a hard time in the process. // Crack fic based on this scene from Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian // AO3

“I’ll tell you what, they didn’t call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy’ for nothing.” He made to hand you the instrument, then snatched it back just as quickly. “They DIDN’T call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy,’ they called me ‘Astarion the BLOODTHIRSTY, who KILLS whoever doesn’t give Astarion exactly what he wants in the moment that he wants it! Which is RIGHT NOW when I had better get my back read out to me!’” You looked at him with wide eyes, trying and nearly failing to withhold a laugh. He was trying to play this game with you. He really was. But you could see how desperately he wanted answers, too.  Astarion, in turn, puffed his chest out as if trying to stand his ground.  Just a little longer with the teasing, then you’d help him. “That’s what they called you?” you asked. Astarion looked up as if trying to grasp what exactly he should say next. “It was… shorter in Elvish.”

ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 - (Ask box is open!)

Awfully Fond of You 🪴 (18+): Instead of sleeping with Astarion on the night of the tiefling party, you ask to bathe him instead. // AO3

You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water. “You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket out for Astarion to see. “I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.” “A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.” “I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

𝔄𝔯𝔱 - (Please feel free to draw scenes from the story! Just tag me!)

xxnashiraxx: - Birdie (my Tav!) sthormii: - Mine (from About to Strike)/Fangs (from Just to Ruin Me) - Foresight (from Awfully Fond of You) ollieneedsamilkshake: - In Another Life (from Worth the Peril)

[bg-brainrot]

To Be Known (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: Astarion reads a book and wonders what it means to be known.

Tags: Astarion's POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3 but pre-Cazador, Astarion is Bad at Feelings,

A/N: Disclaimer up top: I'm not abandoning any of my other fic! Promise! Just trying to get over a tough month and get back into the swing of things :'D

Also, based on the quote: “To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is like being loved by God.” (disclaimer: I’m not religious, and I know this quote comes in a few different forms, but google told me about this version so I stuck to it.)

Word count: ~2.1k

“To be fully known and truly loved is as if you are loved by the gods,” Astarion reads aloud, to no one in particular.

A silence follows, wherein his mind repeats the words he’s just read, absorbing none of them. To be fully known and truly loved… The words don’t seem to stick. 

Finally deciding that the sentence isn’t worth his effort, he tosses the book onto his bedroll with a groan. “What rubbish.”

Outside of this author's haughty approach to prose, Astarion doesn’t particularly care to think too deeply about what it means to be loved– especially by any godsforsaken deities. 

He has only just come around to the idea of love, not that he’s said the word ‘love’ to you just yet. It felt too much, too heavy a word to carry considering all of the other burdens the two of you bore between you. But the idea of it? Well, he was warming up to it. And with every moment shared between you, he believes he may be warming up all the more.

But what does being known have to do with love? No, that concept has him pulling his brows together, getting up from his bedroll and putting distance between himself and the drivel that Gale had recommended to him.

That’s what I get for listening to the damned wizard’s tastes, he thinks, shaking his head slightly. Some philosophical prattle, just as verbose as he is.

But even as he stands, brushes himself off, shoves the book away to the furthest corner of his tent before he makes to leave, the question of being known never escapes him.

What does it even mean to be known? he wonders, now lost in thought as he emerges from his tent. How could anyone know me, after all I’ve been through… do I even know who I am anymore?

The idea hangs over him, trails him like a storm cloud as he begins stalking about the camp you’ve all set up in the outskirts of Rivington. He’s not sure where his feet are leading him other than away– away from the distasteful book, away from away from your knowing gaze, which would only pry his thoughts out of him.

Much to Astarion’s disappointment, the trail he takes doesn’t stop the winding path his thoughts have taken.

Have I ever been known? he wonders, vaguely registering the breeze in his hair and the distant sounds of running water as he travels further and further from camp.

Perhaps I was once upon a time, but I could hardly be expected to remember now, could I? The thought is bitter and unwelcome, though likely true. He brusquely swats a branch out of his way and continues into a bramble unrepentantly. Gods, how can he bring himself to care about something as trifling as nature when he’s quite busily lost in thought right now, thank-you-very-much.

Astarion releases a sigh as he finally fights his way into a copse of trees. Secluded, finally. 

Alone. 

With his thoughts.

Which won’t seem to quiet despite the soft chittering of small animals, nor the sickly sweet smell of flowers in the air.

Why are some pitiful poet’s ��words of wisdom’ even bothering me? he thinks as he lowers himself onto the trunk of a fallen tree. What’s even the use in being known?

Astarion crosses his legs in front of him, watching with narrowed eyes as his boots press into the soft grass, crushing it easily. There is no use to being known, he decides as he presses harder with one foot and the grass is further flattened. To wish that is…

His foot twists down even more firmly.

Pathetic, Astarion thinks, lifting his boot back up to see his handiwork. The grass lies flat, thoroughly smashed by him. This world is simply about being the one who tramples, and not the one being trampled.

That thought oddly comforts him. He knows the push and pull of power well enough– this dynamic is second nature to him. Like an old, threadbare blanket, it wraps around his shoulders, providing no warmth, but plenty of familiar reassurance.

It’s moments later that the blanket is wrenched from him and he’s laid bare once more, under the startling sunlight of your attention.

“Astarion?”

Your voice pierces through his thoughts, and his instinctual answering emotions are new to him. Surprise. Elation. Relief.

The vampire had been utterly unprepared to hear your voice, convinced he’d found a spot away from you all. Convinced that you wouldn’t be here with your thoughtful gaze– not now, while he’s still busy sorting through a myriad of questions. But he still can’t deny the way he welcomes your presence. 

He suspects that your perceptive gaze can easily catch that, despite the way his shoulder’s tense and the way his head turns away, his ears still tilt back toward you, ready for your next words.

“Astarion, there you are,” you say. He hears the same emotions he feels in your voice. How odd it feels to be mirrored by you. He can’t deny enjoying that either. “What’s the matter? When I couldn’t find you around camp, I thought the worst might have happened."

The man scoffs, trying his best to sound unaffected by your sudden arrival, refusing to meet your inquiring gaze. “And what, pray tell, did you assume could have happened?”

“We’re practically at the Gate, Astarion. Anything could have happened. Need I remind you what happened to Dribbles?” you respond, voice tight with worry. 

Ah yes. The dead clown. “It will take more than a shapeshifter to take me out, darling,” he retorts, still refusing to turn toward you, now dutifully inspecting his nails.

You let out a small huff of disapproval. “And what about Cazador?”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Astarion replies, though the thought of being caught unawares by Cazador bristles at him. If he did get caught, it would be entirely Gale’s fault for lending him that book… He shakes his head of white curls and continues, “Besides, I barely got more than a few dozen yards away before you came chasing after me. I could hardly be in any real danger.”

When you sigh, he finally turns to face you. The expression you give him then isn’t frustration, nor anger– it’s an unusual mixture of worry and… joy? “I couldn’t help but chase. Would it be pathetic to say that I miss you when you’re gone for too long?” you respond.

He’s not sure he has an answer to that.

Especially when he feels pathetic for how light his undead heart feels at the statement.

Astarion drops his head, avoiding your gaze, and hoping you don’t catch the startled happiness on his face.

When it’s clear he doesn’t have a response for you, you change the subject as you close the distance between you, “So, what brought you out here?”

“Nothing,” he replies, too easily. You know it’s a lie. He knows that you know it.

“Nothing, eh?” you ask, finding a seat next to him on the fallen tree. “What about that nothing has you running into the woods?”

“I was not running,” he defends, with a click of his tongue. “I was taking a brisk stroll.”

“Fine then,” you relent, elbowing his arm gently. “What about it led to a ‘brisk stroll’?”

There’s no use hiding from them, is there? he thinks, leaning back on the trunk. “I’ll tell you,” he begins, staring out into a bush. “But only if you answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you say, and he can feel your shrug on his arm.

“Who am I, really?”

You still. Astarion had expected no less. After all, it’s not an easy question to answer– even for him. He’s putting quite a lot of undue pressure onto you with the question, it’s selfish really… but he can’t help but want to be selfish around you.

So he lets the question settle into the silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is crisp in the muted sounds of the clearing. “Promise you won’t care for me any less after I answer you?”

Astarion snaps his head back at you, his mouth turning down in a frown. “Well that depends, my dear. What are you planning to say?”

“Promise?” you press.

As if he could care any less for you– he would have done so already if he could. “I promise,” he murmurs reluctantly. “Now, please, the suspense is really too much.”

“You are Astarion,” you start, reaching out for his hand. He cautiously places his in yours, unable to hide the twitch of a smile as your warm fingers lock with his. “You’re a beautiful, elven vampire, with silver hair, and red eyes. You’re talented, witty, and…”

Your voice trails off, and Astarion can’t help but wonder why you’d been so hesitant to answer. So far, he is loving this answer.

“And you’re an absolute arse at times.”

“Excuse me?” he gasps, moving to pull his hand out of yours.

You don’t release it, but you do continue, “You laugh at the misfortune of others, you steal, you lie, you cheat at games, you can be incredibly selfish.”

“Darling, are we certain you care about me after all this?” he grumbles, giving up on fighting your grip on him as your words wash over him. He knows all of this, of course, has been entirely unashamed of it all before… but it feels different when you say it. When you lay it out plainly before him.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, tugging on his hand gently. “Because all of that makes you you. And, personally, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He blinks at you, confused on how you arrived at this conclusion.

“You are so unabashedly you, love. And I adore that. I know it might not feel like it after all you’ve been through… but you are still yourself. No one has been able to take that from you.”

Now Astarion stares at your intertwined hands, wondering if he deserves such impassioned, absurd words said in his defense. His voice comes quietly when he asks his next questions, “And how do I know that’s who I have always been? Who I was meant to be?”

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft, warm kiss before you continue, “Astarion, I don’t know what might have bothered you, but I want you to know that, no matter what it was, you’re amazing as the man you are. Whoever you were, whoever you think you were meant to be, you should be proud of who you are now. And… once we deal with Cazador, I hope you have the chance to rediscover that man.”

Astarion hadn’t meant this to be some kind of journey of self-discovery– really, he’d only been irked by the needless philosophy of the book Gale had lent him. But, hearing you say those words, it feels as if some weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Worry, he realizes. Of losing who he was, of course, but also of being utterly, desolately unknown. Naturally he needn’t have worried because here you are, ready and willing to understand him. To accept and care for him, even while knowing him, flaws and all.

Maybe being known wasn’t such a burden. Not if it were by you.

“Yes, well,” he begins, suddenly unsure what to say to your earnest words. “Thank you for that, I think. Though, really, I could have done without all of the barbs. It feels like I've been struck by psychic damage.” Astarion gives a dramatic head loll, averting his flustered face.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “Well, it’s a good thing I have no clue how to deal psychic damage, but I’ll be sure to get Gale right over if you need a good jostle to the brain.”

Gale’s done enough of that, Astarion thinks. But he doesn’t say so to you. Instead, the man simply shakes his head. “I’m quite alright. Speaking of the rest of those fools, they’ve likely begun to burn the camp down without us. Shall we head back?”

While the trek to the clearing had been filled with spiraling thoughts and matters of the self, Astarion finds that the journey back is filled with far more soft touches and kisses– Not that he minds.

In fact, he thinks with a smile, as you both walk together, practically falling into each others’ arms. Maybe this was who I was meant to be all along.

That night, once he’s settled back into his tent for bed, Astarion reads the passage once more, “To be fully known and truly loved is as if you are loved by the gods.”

Astarion is certainly no closer to believing in the gods’ willingness or ability to love him, but he could hardly care. No, he suspects that he knows what a god’s love is– after all, if you truly love him, fangs, scars, and all… well, that may very well be divine.

[commander-rahrah]

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD What if GN!Reader knew that he was trying to use them from the start? They knew because they're quite familiar with people only talking to them because it's either because they can do something for them or they have something they need! They would still help him since they believe it's something he shouldn't need to go so far to have it. What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

UMMM YESSSS ANON YES! This is definitely something I have considered as well!! Tav isn't a naïve little target like Astarion is used too!

I imagine that Tav/Reader would probably admit to knowing about his plan not long after his own confession scene from Moonrise Towers in Act II. I think it would go something like this ♡♡

P.S.: I absolutely LOVED doing this, and my inbox is literally always open for stuff like this friends! :) It may just take me a hot second to reply!

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“I still can’t wrap my head around this,” Astarion’s voice was a hushed whisper in your ear, the two of you laying next to each other in his tent. You were close, but not touching — you were affording him space, allowing him to make the first move to initiate any kind of touch.

The intimate setting of laying across from each other in his tent was more than you had even expected. The candle stumps sat carefully around you basked everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

“What do you mean?” You asked gently, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I’d imagine confessing to you in more ways than one… and never once did I imagine it would end like this.” He motioned to the two of you, running a finger tip across your knuckles before withdrawing. His voice was thick with emotion.

A soft chuckle escaped you, “What you thought I’d stake you?”

“Well… yes!” He said exasperatedly, before letting out a breathy laugh himself. Then he shook his head, turning serious, “I was manipulating you. Plotting against my master, with you as my shield.”

Your mouth twitched as you admitted, “I knew.”

“No, I don’t think you understand—“

You interrupted him, your face earnest, “No, Astarion. I do. I knew.”

Realization set deep in his features, his mouth hanging open just enough you could see his fangs, “How long had you known?”

You gave him a half smile, “Since the night you invited me to the woods.”

Your first night together.

“I— that was ages ago!" He sat up abruptly, his red eyes wide, "Why didn’t you say anything? Or better yet— gut me?!"

You sat up slowly, resting on your knees. “People have been using me for my entire life, Astarion. I know what they see when they meet me — a pretty face and nice clothes. Someone who is too friendly, too eager. People have been knocking on my door to ask for gold or sex or an invitation, anything they can get from me… as long as I can remember. Long before I met you."

Astarion was well aware of the mask you could so easily slip on when interacting with others. He hated it when you wore it. But now he understood you had been donning it to protect yourself, as much as he it did for himself too. But he still wanted to stalk and haunt every person who ever made you feel like you were a thing to be used, a means to some end.

Including himself.

Your voice snapped him back to the present, your voice hesitant, "But I had seen through your flirtations for a while now. It’s a force of habit for you, isn’t it?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Yes, it is."

Your expression crumbled, "I may have realized you were using me, but I didn’t realize how sex made you feel. I’m sorry I didn’t realize, I shouldn’t have indulged in that way."

The vampire waved off your apology, but curiosity got the best of him. "Why did you ‘indulge’? If you knew I was using you… if you knew that I'm... this."

You took a deep breath, before looking him in the eye. “Because I also recognized that what you were doing was a routine, a defense mechanism that you had been doing for longer than I’ve been alive. Because you were manipulated and used for your whole life too, weren’t you?"

Tears formed in the bottom of his eyes as he listened to you, but he willed them to stay back. His red eyes blinked furiously as he listened to you, his fingers intertwining together on his lap.

He wished you would hold them.

"You aren’t like your master, Astarion. And you aren’t what he made you to be either. You are a survivor. And when you were thrown off that nautiloid ship and found yourself in this merry party of misfits, you did just that — survive.

So… I let myself play mouse and get stuck in your trap. Just as I turned a blind eye to Wyll's sending stone. Or didn't ask Gale to explain what in the heavens he was doing with the amulet we had found. Because I trusted you, even back then. Cared for you far more then I should admit. But I knew you needed time."

His bottom lip trembled as you continued your own confession. He let his tears slip free as he saw your own break free. They stuck to your lashes and dripped down your flushed, freckled cheeks. Gods, even crying you were beautiful.

"But I regret that I laid with you — if I had known it caused you such pain I wouldn’t have done that. I knew that sex was apart of your repertoire, but I didn’t realize the anguish it caused you." Your face was pained as you admitted that, he could feel the self-loathing radiating off of you.

“It wasn’t all bad — those times with you were some of the most unexpected moments of bliss I’ve had in centuries." Astarion confessed as he grabbed your fingers and held them tightly. "But it still feels tainted, marred from my past with Cazador..."

“I know." You squeezed his fingers back, another silent understanding. "And we do not need to do such things until you are ready, Astarion. I mean it.”

He nodded, keeping his head down as he stared at the blankets you both sat on — willing himself to get his emotions under control.

You tucked your head to look up at his tilted face, "May I?" You asked softly, your hand hovering between you.

He swallowed as he nodded. You reached out slowly with your hand, before your thumb gently swept under his eyes and down the sides of his face, wiping away the tears that lingered on his pale skin. A sigh of contentment left him at your soft, simple touch. No one had ever touched him like that before.

He caught your hand as you went to withdraw it, your hands intertwined with his between you as you kneeled in front of each other.

Astarion was afraid to ask the next question on the tip of his tongue. But curiosity got the best of him. “So if you knew about my plan this whole time… when did you realize you— you’d fallen for me?”

Your entire face brightened as he asked, your eyes shining as you spoke, “Oh, from the moment you held a knife to my throat and barred your teeth.”

His heart soared, climbing up his throat as he almost choked from the happiness spreading through him.

“You masochist.” He laughed, grabbing onto the sides of your face.

“A romantic fool," You murmured as he placed his lips softly onto yours.

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If you enjoyed this, please feel free to check out more of my Astarion x GN!Reader on my masterlist!

[sfehvn]

new religion part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

A/N: Thank you guys for hanging through this series with me :) There is some pregnancy talk beginning this chapter, so pls skip this if that makes you uncomfortable. Enjoy the update, cheeky pups. Some more sexy stuff this time around! Xx Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 3,027 Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x au!Tav

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  Your arms stretch above your head, sleepy eyes flickering open. It takes you a moment to become aware of the empty bed you lay in. The spot occupied by Astarion’s cool figure when you’d drifted into a serene sleep is now bare. There had only been a handful of times he hadn’t been there to greet you upon your wake since you had agreed to stay with him, one of the many attributes you admired to no end about your lover. Georgie is tucked into your side, perturbed by the sudden disturbance of you sitting from your previous position. He mewls, shaking his soft fur before hopping off of the bed, no doubt in search of his morning feeding. Making your way to Astarion’s office, knowing that’s where you’d find him when he was not by your side, your brow creases at the sight of the undisturbed room. 

  “Lady Tav, Master Ancunin requested your presence in the day room immediately. Presentably.” As she speaks, there’s a tinge of urgency in the maid’s voice. The unexpected voice caused you to jump in surprise, a hand resting on your chest. The abundant amount of help in the manor was indeed something you were still adjusting to. The maid’s features soften as she realizes the fright she has inflicted. “So sorry, my Lady.” She adds.

  “It’s quite alright. Just Tav, by the way.” Your clarification is met with a shake of the maid’s head.

  “Master Ancunin was very clear-”

  “Right. Of course.” You smile softly, and as the thrall makes her retreat, you stop her with another inquiry. “Did he say why?”

  “Your brother thought to pay a visit. He’d like to see you.” With that, the maid rounds the corner of the long corridor.

  Your eyes widen at the mention of your brother. In the home you now share with Astarion. While you did inform Alan that you’d be staying with your companion, you couldn’t recall telling him where the manor was. It wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, and Astarion could be considered rather influential among the elite of Baldur’s Gate; you had never addressed said companion by name in any of your letters. You push the gnawing questions aside for the time being to make yourself look decent.

  Your nerves felt as if they were on fire. While you loved your brother dearly, he could be a stickler about the sanctity of marriage, and reading his distaste of you staying with a man unwed was one thing, now you’d have to face him and hear those complaints voiced. It was not something you were particularly looking forward to. That aside, you couldn’t imagine Astarion getting on too well with Alan either, mentally noting how opposing the two personalities were. To your surprise, you were greeted with the sound of laughter as you entered the dayroom. Alan is seated across from Astarion, cradling a goblet of red wine as he seems enthralled by whatever fantastical story the other man is going on about. 

  “Ah, darling, there you are. I thought I’d have to send the cavalry to fetch you.” Astarion jokes, gesturing for you to sit down in the seat beside him. You oblige, but not before giving your brother a quick embrace. 

  “You look great, Tav.” Alan points out. “How have you been faring, sister?” His tone cushions the concern dredged in his voice with care.

  “As well as I can. Given the circumstances, of course. I’m actually,” You pause, trying to find a way to put your emotions into words eloquently. You settle on the most obvious. “I’m happy.” The simplicity of your statement is paired with a shrug, your lips upturning into a faint smile. The air lightens even more as your sincere answer puts your brother noticeably at ease.

  Alan lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. “You know, I was a bit skeptical about this whole arrangement. Lillian had said some choice words about Astarion; the dramatics with that one are not going anywhere anytime soon. I just had to ensure my little sister was in good hands. It looks as if you are.”

  A seriousness settles onto Astarion’s perfect features as he silently curses the young girl. He bites back any unsavory remarks. “I will admit before I met Tav, I did not have the best track record regarding my, er,  personal conquests. Unfortunately, it would appear your sister must have gotten word about that. I am not proud of my past in that sense.” He didn’t have any need to explain himself; he owed nothing to the man seated before him. Contrarily, he found himself explaining Alan’s worries away anyhow. “Tav has given me a new outlook on life. I will be forever grateful to her.”

  Your cheeks burn with a red tinge at his words, and you look over to your brother in a silent vie for approval. “And that is a commendable thing to admit, my friend.” Alan holds his goblet up in a sort of ‘cheers’ before taking a sip from the glass. “I do wish you’d made an honest woman out of my sister before inviting her to live in your home. Call me old-fashioned.” He laughs.

  “Alan-” You begin to scold, but he holds up a hand.

  “But you clearly love my sister and only have good intentions. I suppose that means more than anything else you could offer. And it’s about time she does something for herself.” 

  Astarion expertly refrains from letting out a chuckle, recalling the night you had spent together that was anything but good-intentioned. “That is the truth.” He states matter-of-factly instead. The remainder of Alan’s visit was short-lived, and once he was gone, Astarion turned his undivided attention to you. His hands find your hips as he guides you back into the day room, mischievously smirking all the while. “I have been dying to get you alone since last night, pet.” 

  A burning desire alit in your chest, you eagerly undo his trousers as he presses you into the chair behind you. His large, hard cock is freed from its confinement, springing to attention before your hungry eyes. You look at him innocently from under a bed of lashes, tongue darting out to wet your lips before taking as much as you can handle into your mouth, tongue swirling over the tip before your head bobs over his length. With his groan of approval and hands tangling into your hair, your heart swells pridefully. How this man fell apart for you just as equally as you did for him made you brim with excitement, evident in the pool of wetness that clung uncomfortably in your underwear. You shift in an effort to provide relief to your aching center. So ready and willing to be filled with his cock, the thought made you moan around his length. Your hand stroked the bit of him you couldn’t fit into your mouth, looking up to see the pleasure on Astarion’s face as his cock twitched in the warmth of your mouth.

  He’s close to the edge. You’ve learned every little cue and reaction his body had in response to you. He pulls you up from your seated position, and you whine as his length leaves your lips, heart pounding as he flips you, bending you over the chair. Your dress was pushed up, exposing your wet underwear to him. He moves your undergarments expertly to the side, and you yelp in pleasure as he thrusts his cock into your drenched pussy. You grasp at the handles of the chair to maintain your balance, arching your hips further into his as he rhythmically pumps in and out. “I’ve been dying to taste you again, my naughty little pet.” He grunts. He pulls you up from the chair, not daring to break the contact of him buried deeply into your cunt. Your back is flush against his chest as he keeps pace.

  “Please, love. I want to be naughty for you.” You mewl breathlessly. You’re met with a more arduous thrust in response, his hand discarding the bandage on your neck that had been hidden under your flowing locks. Once fangs break skin, your pleasant and now familiar taste fills his mouth. He relishes the way it coats his tongue, the way it pools into his mouth. He knew this couldn’t be a continuous event, but he would take advantage of your new-found turn-on while he had the appropriate healing potions in his possession. He silently reminds himself he could always purchase more, an action he’d send a thrall out for once you two had your fun.

  It doesn’t take long for him to fill you with his seed, unable to take the intense satisfaction a moment longer. He continues to feed, his hand reaching around to play willfully with your clit. Your stature tenses, and you feel your knees go limp as your orgasm overtakes you. Astarion removes his teeth from you, lapping up the blood that seeped out upon his exit. Unlike the night before, he was eager to get every drop he could, unwilling to let the precious ambrosia go to waste. He removes his now-soft cock from your mound as he continues to support your limp form. He cradles you into his arms, sitting in the chair you had so unceremoniously christened with you in his lap. His fingertips brush the stray hairs away from your face, soaking in the satisfied smile on your lips.

  A thrall entered the room without urging, they were prepared to tend to your reopened wound. A bandage was reapplied in place of the one Astarion had tossed aside; a deep red liquid that tasted of sulfur was provided, and you took it down begrudgingly. The thrall sees themself out hastily. “I like it when you’re rough with me.” You admit shyly, drawing circles over his knuckles with your fingertips.

  “Do you, pet?” Astarion’s head cocks to the side, eyeing you curiously.

  “I’ve spent so much of my life being treated like I’m made of glass. It’s refreshing.” You sigh happily. “I like it when you’re careful too.” You correct quickly before continuing. “But it is nice every once in a while.” 

  “I knew you were dirtier than you let on.” He teasingly taps the tip of your nose, and you giggle, pushing his hand away playfully. A comfortable silence settles over you, and you decide to inquire about something heavy on your mind.

  “Do you think you’ll get tired of me, love?” You ask from your position nestled into his chest.

  “Never. I could spend eternity in your presence and still yearn for longer with you by my side.”

-

  You walk the roads of the lower city, humming quietly to yourself. Your hair was tied back with a neat yellow bow, and your flowing dress matched the color to a tee. It felt odd going out alone after spending most of your time with Astarion. He had been reluctant to let you, but he warily agreed after you insisted the alone time would serve you well. You wouldn’t be entirely alone, he wasn’t a dimwit. Instead, he instructed some of his less daylight-challenged help to keep a close eye on you. With the promise of a fate worse than death if you came home with even a hair out of place, he was confident they’d ensure a safe journey. 

  The smell of fresh air was replaced with the overbearing scent of alcohol and must as you pass The Blushing Mermaid. You ignore the rowdy tenants shouting your way as you stroll by. It had always baffled you how the place was always in full swing, even mid-morning. It hadn’t usually bothered you, but the smell was particularly potent and made your stomach lurch. Your stride quickens until you’re far enough away to inhale clean air. Your nose scrunches in distaste, mentally clocking just how unhygienic the place had to have been. Without another hitch, you’re entering The Facemaker’s Boutique, greeted by the smiling face of the man behind the counter. “Lady Ancunin! A pleasure to see you’re face again.” 

  “Oh, well, thank you, Darren.” You’re caught off guard by the usage of your lover’s surname in relation to yourself. “Astarion and I aren’t married, though. No need for all of the formalities.” You giggle.

  The older man feigns surprise, his jaw slackening at the revelation. “Not married? And here I was under the impression he’d snatch you up as soon as physically possible. That man is smitten with you.” His words convey a teasing melody as if he were relaying groundbreaking information. “Follow me, Not Lady Ancunin.” His laugh is infectious, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him into the back once he’s unlocked the doors behind him. “Feel free to help yourself to the wine, dear. It’s a delectable dessert wine I’ve just imported. It would be a crime not to share.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. It looks rather expensive. Thank you for your kindness, though. You’re a joy.” 

  “Don’t be silly. Sir Ancunin’s business alone keeps our doors open and more than enough food on the table to feed our families. The least I can do is share some of my alcohol.” Darren insists as he enters the next room to collect Astarion's purchased clothing. “I’ll be just a moment. Please, try the wine.” 

  You finally give in, sitting on the chair closest to the table the wine was housed on. You take one of the empty glasses, carefully pouring the faintest amount into it. You bring the glass to your lips, and the sweet nectar rolls over your tongue. You hum in approval, taking another sip. This time, you feel your stomach tighten in rejection. Hastily setting the goblet down, you find the nearest bin and release the contents of your abdomen into it. Darren is before you immediately, holding the small pile of carefully crafted clothing in his arms. “Oh my, are you unwell? Was it the wine?” There’s an undertone of nervousness in his voice. He sets the clothes on a trunk, filling another glass with water from the pitcher beside the wine bottle. You quietly thank the man, sipping the water cautiously, afraid to further upset your gut.

  The walk back to the manor is an onerous one. Your limbs feel heavy under the weight of the clothing in your arms; each step is a hurdle in its own right. Astarion is awaiting your arrival, seated in the foyer when you enter. His smile falters when he sees your disheveled state, quickly setting down the book he had been reading. He hurried to your side, taking the pile from your arms. Anger, concern, and confusion are valid in describing how he felt. Anger at the two he had instructed to keep a watchful eye on you, clearly disobeying their one function. Concern and confusion in regards to your current state. “What is it, darling?” The clothes were a forgotten heap on the floor as he scanned your face and body for any signs of harm.

    “I’m okay, love. I think I’ve just caught a bug.” Your small smile falters as the familiar twist in your stomach makes the bile in your throat rise. “I’m just going to rest.” You choke back a heave as you swiftly move past him. He had been at your side for every unsavory moment thus far, but the thought of retching in front of him makes you feel sicker than you already do. 

  You spend your evening in bed, body huddled around a bucket that had the unfortunate job of collecting the contents of your gut. After hours of vomiting, all that is produced from you are painful dry heaves. Still, you’re unmoving. Astarion lays behind you quietly, stroking your arm in an attempt to soothe you. Despite you insisting he leaves you be. Forceful when telling him you didn’t want him to see you in such bad shape, he didn’t go. A sight that once would have made him look on in repulsion; the only thing he felt was helplessness. He did not need to worry about these mortal diseases and deaths before. His mind was plagued by what may be ailing you. Would you share your parent’s fate? No, he wouldn’t allow such a thing to befall you.

  “Are you able to eat something, pet?” His words are muffled against the bare skin of your shoulder. You shake your head feebly, unspeaking. “You must drink water at the very least.” His words are firm only in love. He assists you with sitting up, handing you the glass that rests on the nightstand beside the bed. You take a small sip to appease him, offering it back to him. “A little more.” You oblige reluctantly, only to feel the liquid rise up your throat. Astarion holds the bucket under your chin, watching with sad eyes while the water is discarded into it.

  “I just can’t right now.” You murmur, laying on your side once more. The chambermaid who sat in the corner of the room came to collect the bucket, replacing it with an unused one in the process. You felt like death; there was no other way to put it. Your head spun, your stomach unsettled beyond repair, but Astarion noted something seemed different. It wasn’t any of your features or simply from seeing you so debilitated. You were just different. His mind wanders as he rubs circles over your back.

  It couldn’t be.

  He excuses himself once the chambermaid returns, assuring that he’ll be back as soon as possible. 

-

  Among the sea of books in the manor’s extensive library, Astarion holds a book firmly in his grasp, eyes flitting over the text fervently. Nausea settled in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he hadn’t recalled the sensation of in centuries, let alone felt. Dhampir’s were not unheard of in his world, though extremely rare. Even more rare for a vampire of his age to produce any sort of offspring. His mind went into overdrive as one sentence stuck out among the others.

Few mortal mothers survive pregnancy; even fewer survive childbirth.

[suicidalgamergirl]

Long Chapter Is Long

TW: Language

****

YEARS AGO

She was walking down the street with Ken. Ken didn’t like her trying to walk next to him and holding hands.

Like couples do.

Ken demanded her to always walk with her head hanging low. He told her that she may scare unwilling children with her disgusting facial features. Scaring them to believe that monsters really do exist in this world.

But this is what a boyfriend does. She should be happy.

Right?

Ken then whistled at a hot chick that was walking aside on the other sidewalk. He looked back at Nessa.

“You know,” Ken stated, “you should ditch the pink dye and go for a bleach blonde. That way, no one will mistake you for a fat dyke.”

A chuckle was across his lips.

“You’re probably not hot enough to attract those people anyways,” Ken said, “just stick with me. I’m the only one who knows your dirty secret. Wouldn’t want your family to know their daughter is a whore.”

Ness just slowly nodded her head at him. Ken smirked.

”Good Girl,” Ken commented at her obedience, “perhaps you’ll finally give me a good lay.”

The two started to head home. He enjoyed having Ness wrapped around his fingers, letting her drop everything for him, and never leaving his side.

There was no way this relationship could backfire.

Right?

****

There’s a vampire on her bed.

Red faced, flustered with embarrassment. The vampire could pick up her pulse as she felt nervous around him.

Her parents are going to arrive later today to give her a new phone and hope for her to get a new phone plan for it.

There’s a vampire on her bed.

She stated she wasn’t afraid of him. It seemed he ignored her and he went back to flip pages of her journal from a crazed white woman.

There’s a vampire on her bed.

Oh god. How is she going to tell her parents when they see this porcelain skinned gentleman with a proper fashion sense roaming around in her apartment?

Well mom, I was trying to get a bat to solve my mosquitoes problem. Turns out said bat is a fucken vampire.

Just the mention of a vampire would be reasonable doubt that you’re insane, Nessie. She can pictured herself in a padded room and wearing a straight jacket, as her family signs her rights’ away. She’ll be a permanent client in the mental hospital ward, constantly ranting and raving about that fucken vampire on her bed.

****

Astarion looks up from the journal, amused and intrigued as the woman turns red and becomes panicky. He can hear her pulse beating faster, and see that her mind is racing.

He puts the journal to one side and looks at her.

"Don't worry darling,” he said as he was looking at her, “I ask before I bite."

He smiles as gently as he can at her, not wanting her to become more worked up.

As he speaks, Nessie is surprised to hear his voice is actually quite soft and friendly, not at all what she expected from a vampire.

He does not seem to be anything like the vampires she has read about.

Astarion gestures at a chair in the room. "Why don't you take a seat darling, and tell me what has got you all upset?"

Her face changes to one of shock. He is asking her to take a seat in her own room? And he wants her to talk?

She is not sure what to make of this. He seems to be asking her to tell him why she is upset. Is he mad? Isn't it obvious? He is in her room, uninvited reading her journal. Although, yes, she did make a bat house to help her insecurities and did research on bats too, she did not know he was a vampire obviously. She isn't that stupid.

And what about her parents? What is she going to tell them?

She finds herself walking to the chair and sitting on it, shaking. There was so much tension between the two of them.

Not to mention, her birthday was tomorrow.

Regardless of this intruder, this was her place. She had to plead her case.

Otherwise it’s back to the mental ward with you. Some birthday gift, right?

Gotta keep a straight poster. Holding onto the box cutter, she turned her head to stare at her intruder. Have confidence.

“Look,” Nessa stated as her hands were clutching the box cutter, “we’re both consenting adults. I made that bat house because I had issues with mosquitoes. It’s foolish of me to try to use you in your bat form for my own personal gain. I apologize. For once, I thought I gained a cute pet, a fluffy white bat that needed comfort and spoiling.”

He noticed some small streams of tears running down her eyes. He pondered whom or what had made her feel this hurt. Such a plump woman shouldn’t be harming herself, as he saw her write in her journal. He then noticed the bandage wraps on her arms. They were wrapped in the same gauze he picked up from her trash bin earlier.

Nessa then stretched out her right bandaged arm towards said vampire.

“I know you’re a vampire,” Nessa said with her arm shaking a bit, “my parents will arrive in the late afternoon. It’s best if you drink from me and use said blood as strength to get yourself out of my apartment. I can’t jeopardize my freedom if you stay here.”

That’s right. Humans tend to assume that vampires like him were always needing blood, the essence of living creatures. Her body language was reflecting the pain she wrote in her journal. She wanted to protect him, despite him being a quite powerful vampire ascendant.

She is a very brave woman. Not even the vampire hunters that confronted him showed such bravery towards him. She is quite an interesting human.

“Darling,” he stated as he rose from the bed, “you do not need to do this. Though, I shall take my leave. Perhaps, you can clear your mind after your parents’ visit.”

He wanted to learn more about this human, but he will respect her wishes.

For now.

Opening her window, he used his dark vampiric powers to morph into said fluffy white bat. He flew out of her room and into the city.

She watched the creature. Red flustered face. He is quite an interesting character.

For a vampire.

Now she had to prepare for her parents’ arrival.

****

Ken and Katsy were walking down the street as a lovely couple that were enjoying the city.

Perhaps a little too much. Someone was walking the opposite direction and was going to walk into the couple.

They accidentally bumped into each other.

��Hey, watch it!” Ken cried out as he was being brushed aside from his girl.

Katsy was in starry eyes as she saw the peckish young gentleman, with porcelain skin tone, grayish curls, deep crimson eyes, and pointy ears that was standing in front of the couple.

“Oooh,” Katsy began as she slipped herself onto the gentleman, “never seen one of those dorky LARPers being as hot as you.”

Ken looked at the gentleman, getting kinda pissed off that his girl was latching herself on a new man.

The gentleman looked at him and just smirked. He knew this was the person that had an X marked on his face in the journal he read. How wonderful.

“How about you and me go exploring my dungeon?” Katsy asked as she stayed near the gentleman, “I’m sure my dragon will behave.”

Ken then saw his girl being wooed by another man. This made him realize that this is how he acted when he was with Nessie whenever they went on a date together.

“Get your hands off her, you pasty pale pointy ear freak!!” Ken yelled at the gentleman. He shoved Katsy off of him, much to her disappointment.

She booed at Ken as she got herself together.

“What’s you gotta do?!” Ken asked as he was gonna fight this well behaved gentleman, “Cat got your tongue?!”

The gentleman revealed a set of fangs. Without realizing the danger Ken was about to be in, the gentleman moved so quickly and dug his fangs into Ken’s throat. Ken went limp. His tough facade faded while the gentleman feasted on him, blood gushing from the piercing of Ken’s neck with his fangs.

Katsy screamed and started to run off. The freakishly pale gentleman was a monster.

Satisfied with his meal, he dropped Ken onto the ground. He realized that the woman who saved his ass as a bat will no longer have a need to worry about Ken anymore. No longer will she have the urge to harm herself and make new scars on her arms.

The board left Ken, trying to save her own ass. No matter. Humans are such idiots at times.

Liking his lips to get the blood off his lips, he felt Ken made a decent meal…

For a horrible human.

Bloodlust racked his brain. Now he should have taken the offer of drinking Nessie’s blood. She wasn’t a virgin, but someone who was offering themselves to him, not as a sexual favor, made him realize how pure she is. Made him think she needed protection from him. Such a brave human she is.

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 53 - The Strings of Fate

Chapter Summary: After the harrowing past few days, the Last Light Inn takes a rare opportunity to celebrate their little victories.

Featuring @the-cutest-deviant's wonderful drow paladin, Evael! ^_^

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 278K+ words; Chapters 53/?? (Master Post)

Excerpt below:

By the time Church has returned to the square’s bonfire, it seems that the Harpers have reined in the carousing for the evening. It even looks like some are passing around restoration tinctures to those no doubt taking over for the night’s watch. 

Church watches this all with mild interest as he trudges back down to their riverside camp, his mind preoccupied by Isobel’s revelation as well as Art’s foreboding message.

“Had a nice night?” a voice drawls from ahead of him.

“Astarion,” Church smiles before he even finds the rogue, leaning against a shadowed wall. “Exactly who I wanted to see.”

“Am I, now?” the elf replies airily, examining his nails. “I’m surprised. I thought you might be seeking out a certain little drow tonight.”

The inflection in his voice grabs the tiefling’s full, surprised attention.

“Hang on,” Church laughs uneasily. “Astarion, it was just a dance, I…”

He feels cold guilt and regret weigh in his gut. Gods, he missed another chance to dance with Astarion. He didn’t even think about it…

“Oh I completely understand!” Astarion says unconvincingly. “With those long, fluttering lashes, eyes of baby blue, and that little laugh,” he scoffs. “How could you resist?”

“Gods above,” Church groans, stepping closer and grasping both of his hands. “Astarion. Please look at me?”

The sulking elf rolls his eyes but levels them at the tiefling with some difficulty.

“He was a sweet man,” Church admits. “And you’re right, I can’t resist an invitation to dance these days.” He squeezes his hands earnestly. “But there’s only one person who has my heart — and it’s you, in case you had any doubts.”

Church smiles ruefully at the rogue, swaying the both of them in place. “I wish I had invited you to dance. I wish I had all the time in the world to make it up to you.”

At Astarion’s silence, he squeezes his hands again and imploringly catches his eyes, feeling his stomach twist in his desperation. 

“Love, please,” he chuckles anxiously. “Do you want me to beg? Because I will beg.”

Astarion scoffs, but even he can’t disguise his pleased smirk.

“As much as I’d enjoy the sight of that, I will spare you the indignity of performing such a thing in front of our allies,” he says loftily. He tilts his head back in the direction of camp. “It’s getting late. And cold. Let’s away to your tent, and then I will know for certain who has your gaze tonight.”

Church huffs a laugh, but his words do give him an idea…

“I’m going to make this up to you,” he says decisively. “It’s something I should have done long ago.”

Astarion raises a bemused brow as the tiefling takes him by the hand, leading the elf back to their sanctum.

—  

“I… can we try something?” Church asks tentatively once they have settled in for the night. Their armaments sit inside the entrance of Church’s tent, ready for the next day’s endeavors. 

Astarion raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Oh? And what would that be, sweet thing?”

But through their parasites, Church can feel the trepidation in the elf’s mind and heart as he considers the possibilities. 

“It’s nothing sexual,” Church clarifies hurriedly, and the elf visibly relaxes as his mouth perks up in a rueful smile. “But I… think you’ll enjoy it?”

He sighs at the elf’s bewildered expression. “You once told me that you wanted to know what the world sees when they look at you,” he says softly. “What I see.

“Look… my drawings… I’m glad you enjoy them, but they’re far from perfect,” Church continues. “They won’t show you in motion, in color, and with all the details that I’m privy to.

“But I want to show you what you look like,” he says. “Through my eyes — literally.”

Astarion’s mouth forms a small, “Oh.”

Church smiles at him, tapping the side of his head. “We’ve already done something similar with our memories. Now that my tadpole is three times stronger, I’ve been wanting to try projecting what I see in the present directly into your mind. Painlessly, if possible.”

“Oh,” Astarion gawks at him. “Oh, well…” he grumbles to himself. “...why didn’t… I think of that…?”

Church shrugs guiltily. “To be honest it occurred to me a while back, but I wanted your permission. Our minds belong to us, and I didn’t want to intrude or presume.”

“Gods, if there was one thing you could presume… do it now,” Astarion blurts eagerly, before backpedaling with a nervous titter. “I mean… yes. Please, love.”

At that last, ardent plea, Church nods, tentatively reaching out to brush back a lock of Astarion’s silver hair. They kneel facing each other, and the tiefling takes the elf’s hands loosely in his as he concentrates on his tadpole — and Astarion’s. 

—

For a moment that now familiar, iridescent aura blurs all of Astarion’s vision. And then —

— he opens his eyes. 

It’s surreal to be staring back into that strange face — far more lined and textured than Church’s drawings, but recognizable as…

…his. It’s his. It’s still him, despite everything. 

And, thank the gods… he still looks exquisite.

“Oh,” Astarion murmurs in shock, and it’s bizarre to see the face’s lips move as he speaks. “Hello, again.” 

He tries in vain to swallow the ache behind his palate, blinking away the unwelcome moisture building in his eyes.

“Gods,” he breathes. “I missed you.” 

He marvels at how his face and throat move along with his voice. He admires even how a traitorous tear overflows his eye, crawling down his cheek.

“Oh, yes,” Astarion says airily, clearing his throat past the ache building within it. “I can see what all the fuss is about.”

His vision jitters slightly as he hears Church chuckle in front of him. 

The tiefling says nothing else, but his warm thumbs continue to press and stroke the back of Astarion’s trembling hands. 

“After all these years…” the vampire spawn murmurs, voice choked. “How did I go two hundred years without seeing this face?”

And still the tiefling remains silent, but from the shakiness and blurring of the image Astarion can tell that he’s trying to blink as little as possible. 

…or maybe he’s fighting back tears.

“Relax, darling,” the elf whispers, watching as that pale elf’s alien lips form those words.

“Sorry,” Church apologizes sheepishly. “Anything you wanted to—?”

He trails off as Astarion leans closer, baring his teeth and examining his fangs critically. 

“They don’t look too terrible, don’t they?” the vampire spawn remarks. 

Church laughs. “You wear them well — along with everything else.”

Astarion’s hand twitches in an aborted attempt to reach out and touch that face. He quickly redirects his hand in the right direction as he pokes at his own cheek, but he hums in dissatisfaction.

“Touch me,” the elf beseeches the tiefling. “I want to know what you see when you touch me.”

Church hesitates as he carefully reaches his hand up to rest against Astarion’s cheek, his thumb stroking lightly upon it. The elf sighs and leans into the hand, and it's bizarre to know and see that his eyes have fallen shut but still see himself through Church’s eyes. 

“If only you thought of this before,” the elf muses. “It certainly would have made for an intriguing situation in bed, knowing what it looked like…”

“…to go fuck yourself?” Church huffs an incredulous laugh. “I’m sure you’d make yourself blush. Personally-speaking, I’d hate to see what sort of faces I pulled when you were doing things to me…”

“They weren’t so bad,” Astarion hums, still reveling in the tiefling’s warm, soothing touch. “I found them quite satisfying. You’re expressive. Helped me know when I found the right spots and…”

He sees himself smirk at Church’s embarrassed blush. 

“…you’re beautiful to look at,” Astarion finishes. 

His words hang in the air as the tiefling savors them.

“So are you,” Church’s smile shines in his voice. “But I’m sure you can see that plainly now.”

“Nothing plain about it,” Astarion hums thoughtfully. “You never even stood a chance, did you?”

“Absolutely not,” Church chuckles ruefully. 

Slowly, the two of them sink down to recline upon their sides, still facing each other as they share Church’s vision. They continue to lie there in silence for a while longer, the tiefling contentedly tracing the elf’s features with his fingers as he has likely done numerous times before with his graphite.

“What are your favorite parts?” Astarion asks softly, before adding in a leer. “Besides the obvious ones…”

“Your eyes,” Church says automatically, and his thumb brushes against the elf’s cheekbone as long eyelashes blink slowly back at him over red irises. “They’re arresting, yes, but they tell me so much beyond what you say aloud.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t like when I said it before, but your lines…” he traces one as Astarion rolls his eyes with a grimace. “They’re so beautiful,” Church whispers. “My drawings of you were never complete without them.

“Your little freckle… here,” Church brushes his thumb upon it. “I love how it moves with the subtlest of your expressions.

“And your lips,” Church says softly. “Even when you don’t say a thing, they speak stories.

“And your jawline, your ears…”

“You’re just naming every part of me now!” Astarion scoffs. 

“I can’t help it!” Church laughs. “I love every part of you. I…”

He doesn’t finish that sentence, and Astarion surfaces from the shared vision just enough to see the tiefling blush and frown as he glances away. 

“Can I try to do it back?” Astarion asks him curiously. Church looks surprised. 

“Well, you can give it a try,” he says carefully. “But without the extra tadpole power it may take a little more effort from you. Just don’t strain yourself.”

“Gale mentioned some nonsense about constellations,” Astarion sniffs. “Can you show me what the hells he means?”

“‘Constellations’ was my word,” Church informs him good-naturedly. “But yes.”

He nestles closer to Astarion and begins to murmur his instruction. Eventually his spoken words turn into communication solely through their tadpoles.

Astarion supposes the strange magic he sees in the air looks sort of like constellations. In his opinion it’s more of a complex, undulating spiderweb, with the glowing bugs crawling around inside and spinning more threads as they go. 

“This here is my vision connection, essentially,” Church explains, plucking at a shimmering strand. “I’m going to form the link again, and then hypothetically you can just reverse the flow…”

Astarion sees his own face again, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration. By the flicking of Church’s gaze, he knows that the tiefling is stealing a moment to admire him. (Because of course he is…) 

“Do you feel the connection, love?” Church asks him gently. 

Astarion does. It’s like a beam of light pulsing steadily from Church’s brain into his own from their two matching spiders. He follows their threads to his own, and imagines empowering those too. 

“And do I just will it to…?” 

But even before Astarion finishes asking, he winces past a pressure in his brain. There’s a sucking sensation as he opens his eyes, vision swimming as he focuses upon Church’s concerned face —

— and then the tiefling gasps. 

“Oh,” Church says aloud. “H-hello.” He laughs delightedly. “You did it!”

His bright gaze flickers as he studies himself with a fading smile. 

“Gods, it’s not quite like looking in the mirror,” he observes. “It’s bizarre…”

“I also quite like your eyes,” Astarion cuts in conversationally. 

Church blinks. “What?”

“I always think to myself they’re like twin suns,” Astarion muses. “Sometimes they just stare too powerfully into me. It scared me, but now it warms me. 

“And those freckles,” he purrs, and he leans forward to brush his lips against the tiefling’s cheek — not quite realizing how bizarre that sight must have been from his end. “I want to eat them up. They shift just like your constellations when you make any face.

“Your nose,” Astarion flicks it and Church grumbles with a grin. “Sometimes I want to bite it, it’s a lovely thing. 

“And oh, your lips…”

Church blushes furiously as Astarion kisses them so sweetly. 

“Oh… wow,” the tiefling laughs. “I’ll be honest, this is a very new experience…” he murmurs sheepishly. “Do I really make that face? Gods…”

He hums into another kiss, and another. 

“Mmh… Astarion…” Church sighs, his eyes so, so soft as he gazes at him, lips parted in breathless awe. 

“Gods… do you see how you look at me?” Astarion whispers fervently to him. “How am I supposed to do a damn thing when you look at me like that?”

Eventually their heads begin to ache and they break the connection between their tadpoles. 

That night, Astarion meditates upon what he just saw of his face — committing every detail he can to memory. 

And then, when that’s all done, he thinks of Church’s smile… 

…and does the same. 

Start from the beginning!

[tieflingtareon]

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 16 | Words: 3.3k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

That devil is getting into his head, while others get into Tar'eons. He doesn't appreciate not having the upperhand after years of being at the disadvantage. He will find a way to make him see.

He is the one he should be listening to. Astarion would make it so, no matter the means.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

Warnings: Self Harm/Self-Punishment, violent thoughts.

“A living vampire? A living vampire! A living vampire…” Tar’eon watched Astarion pace the small room, waiting for him to collect himself. He had a good feeling it was better to wait and feel it out. Astarion looked drawn tighter than his bow in battle.

After another couple of paces, Astarion knocked an old wine bottle off the dresser and growled when it didn’t break instantly. Like he'd been hoping it would shatter and ease some of the anger. Tar'eon didn't flinch. He'd been waiting for the outburst, patient to have Astarion come back to him once he wasn't so wound up.

“Cheap shit.” He cursed before sitting down on the bed, hands on his knees, a scowl marring his features. “…Cazador needs me. That’s why he’s trying to get me back. Without me, there’s no ritual to be had. I was the first spawn in his little farce. And the key to unlimited power.”

“As long as we keep you from Cazador, he won’t ever get that power.” Tar'eon assured.

“You don’t understand. He is — obsessive. He’s been working on this for two centuries. Which sure, is a short time for a vampire, but it is still…so much time. So much preparation...” Astarion sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’ll chase me to the ends of Fae’run. He won’t ever let me go. Not as long as I carry this scar…”

“We could have it removed. Find someone with the skill. Hells, Gales is a wizard, maybe somewhere in his tomes..."

“It’s a pact. An infernal one at that. It won’t just go away. It’ll come back. Devils are pesky like that. If anything, I'd have to make another deal to avoid the current one.” Astarion worked his jaw, flexing it with irritation before he deflated, hanging his head. “I have to take the fight to him.”

“You won’t be alone.” Tar’eon placed his hand over his and squeezed. “I’ll be by your side. We all will. This fight isn’t one you have to do on your own.”

“What do you suggest? We storm his palace and slit his throat while he sleeps? He’ll know we’re there the moment we arrive. We can’t beat him.” He sounded hopeless despite his righteous anger, fisting his hands.

“Yes, we can. We’ve taken on cultists and hellbeasts all on our own. A vampire lord? I might just break a sweat, but it’ll be worth it.” His humorous words coaxed a smile onto Astarion’s lips, obviously trying to stifle it, but Tar’eon sat closer, grinning to himself. “Have some faith in me. In us. We’re more powerful together than a pesky vampire lord with a kick for torture.”

“You’re incorrigible. You won’t let this go, will you?” Astarion chuckled. “Always the hero.”

“Always. I always want to be your hero, ph myirz.” Tar’eon tipped his chin up and smiled down at the almost hazy softness to his ruby eyes, lacking their sharp and cutting edges. Like he'd forgotten to put his mask back on. It made Tar'eons heart swell. “I told you. I want to protect you.”

“Because I’m oh-so-fragile, darling? I could end your life if I got a bit more greedy during my feedings. You know that, don’t you?” Astarion tutted, a glint of mirth in his eyes, that mask morphing back into place, and Tar'eon tried not to be bothered by the reappearance of it.

“I do. And no, I don’t want to protect you because you’re fragile.” He caressed his cheek with the back of his hand, deep adoration in his mismatched eyes. “I…I have many reasons why. But that’s not one of them. I know you’re capable. Strong. You're a survivor above all else. It’s some of the traits I like most about you.”

He didn’t want his blood on his hands. He was protecting him from more than just Cazador. Keeping him safe meant from himself as well. He never wanted his urges to turn against his myirz.

“You’re buttering me up, aren’t you? Did you change your mind about spending this night merely resting then?” Astarion said in a low, seductive voice, his fingers curling into the laces of his shirt. Tar’eon chuckled and took his wandering hand, raising it to his lips to kiss, from his fingertips and upon each joint until he reached his knuckles.

“No. I haven’t. Does my devotion to you always make you this antsy to jump my bones?” He huffed a soft laugh, enamoured by Astarion's playfulness.

“I mean, having a person bend to my wishes is quite fun.” Astarion smirked, eyes darkening at the idea. "And you do so so beautifully, my darling devil."

“Oh? Is that so? You enjoy making me a slave to your every whim? I never would have guessed given how...august you are." The sarcasm was weaved into his words and Astarion laughed, light and airy.

“Who said anything about slavery? If anything, I enjoy being worshipped. Am I not beautiful enough to sit amongst Gods, rather than mortals?” He ran a hand through his hair, pale curls falling upon his brow. A practised move.

“If I say yes, will you let me be the big spoon?”

“Oh, you’ll be big spoon whether you like it or not. I do not see the appeal of being a literal leech on your back.” Astarion barked a laugh at the very idea before his expression grew serious. “Are you certain you don’t want to? I won’t offer again if you say no.”

“I am. I don’t want to sleep with you, Astarion.” Tar'eon insisted for the third time.

“Fine, well…Can I ask why?” It seemed to be bothering the vampire, so Tar’eon leaned back on his palms and thought about it, taking his query seriously. He didn’t want to scare Astarion by admitting to the violent urges he’d felt during the intense kiss in the crypt. He wasn’t sure he was ready to even speak of it out loud without spiralling.

“Because I want to hold you.”

“So hold me. We don’t have to exclude a little fun beforehand.”

“Why are you so persistent about me sleeping with you tonight?” Tar'eon turned the question on him and Astarion frowned, looking uncomfortable.

“I simply don’t understand why you don’t want to.” Astarion wasn’t speaking the whole truth, and Tar’eon knew it, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to force it from the man. He preferred when Astarion came to him, ready to open up just that little bit further. It was more gratifying that way, to have the vampire chose to divulge his thoughts to him. It’s why he never used the magic of the tadpole with him, voluntarily at least, even if it twisted him up inside at times, not knowing what the man was thinking.

“It’s not that I’m against sleeping with you altogether, Astar. But the desire to be close to you in other ways is a higher priority to me. Especially tonight.” He wanted to commit the feeling of him in his arms, the ticklish curls against his lips and the soothing coolness of his flesh, to memory. In case there was a day he could no longer experience it for himself. Lest there be a day he had to part ways with Astarion, for the vampires own safety.

“Darling, sex is the closest you can get to people, full stop.” Astarion said like Tar’eon was naive, and maybe he was. He hadn’t lived nearly as long as Astarion, but he had learnt quite a bit in the short time he could remember.

“Okay. Maybe to you. Not to me.”

“Pray tell, what is closer than being inside one another?” Astarion looked exasperated, looking at him expectantly.

Tar’eon chuckled, “I could show you.”

“Absolutely not.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “I am not wasting time on such a ridiculous notion. Just say it plainly so I can laugh at you. It’ll satisfy me more than sex, if that makes you feel better.”

“Laughter can be better than sex. There’s a million things I consider to be better than sex.”

“Do tell.” Astarion propped his chin in his palm, appearing bored, but Tar'eon could tell he was focusing on him.

“Well...good food?"

“I suppose we can agree on that. But I do enjoy sinking my teeth into you when you’re filled up with all those lovely hormones.” Astarion purred.

“Good music.” Tar'eon continued, ignoring his flirtation.

“Gods, don’t even. If you ever start singing mid-fuck, I’ll rip your vocal cords out.”

“Astar, please stop relating things to sex.”

“Hard not to when you’re sitting there looking all kinds of delicious.” Astarion continued regardless, pushing the limits like he always did.

“You think you don’t look good? Because you do. You look gorgeous.” Illuminated by candlelight in the darkness of the room, orange hues flush against his pale features, against the ruby colour of his eyes, silhouetting his frame, draped in expensive silk...It was somehow twice as beautiful as seeing him beneath the light of the moon on their first night together. Before, he had appeared angelic but near untouchable. Something to revere, to awe and fear. Tonight, he looked softer, warmer, more real.

Tonight, he looked like he would breath the same air as him, looked alive, rather than something that would be beautifully preserved and unchanging until the end of time.

“Of course I do. I’m a vampire. We’re supposed to be alluring, sweetheart.”

“It’s not because you’re a vampire, Astarion. It’s not because you’ve got red eyes and pale skin, or even because you have fangs I’ve grown quite fond of. It’s because I like you.” Tar'eon tried to explain, unable to put all his feelings into words that Astarion would hear, would accept.

“What about me exactly? My devilish charm? My poetic words? My divine body?" Astarion leaned in closer, raising himself onto one knee as he toyed with his collar, brushing cold fingers along his hot neck as his lips rested against a pointed ear. He wasn't listening, and Tar'eon pursed his lips. "Or perhaps you like my tongue, and all the things it can do for-“

“Astarion, stop it." Frustration laced into his plea against his will, a hand on the mans stomach to stop him from breaching what little distance was between them. "Can’t you just let this be? For one night?” The advancing vampire bristled at the rejection and sat back with a glower.

“I don’t know how to do this, okay?" He said, voice tight with bitter resentment.

“Do what?” Tar'eon didn't understand why he was pressing the matter, why he was being so prickly over a simple refusal.

“This.” Astarion gestured between them with a scowl. “I don’t know how to be what you want right now.”

“I don’t want you to be anything! I just wanted to hold you, okay?”

“Well I don’t know how to do that.”

“What? Be held?” Tar'eon asked, like it was a ridiculous notion, something you just knew instinctively.

“Yes.” He hissed before his anger seemed to recede, looking rather self conscious now, like was unsure. Doubtful of what to do with himself when put in such a position. “I…don’t know how to be with you. You’re always so…I thought I had you all figured out.” He looked upset with himself, for not having all the cards in his hands.

“Well, perhaps not.” Tar’eon softened, reaching for his hand, but Astarion pulled it away, keeping both hands in his lap. Denying his comfort. “That’s not a bad thing, Astarion. We…this is new for the both of us. You know that, don’t you? We haven’t known each other long, in the grand scheme of things.”

“I thought you wanted me." Astarion didn't seem to be listening to him, not really, his eyes avoiding his. The distance growing wider, like a chasm opening up between them despite only being inches apart on the bed. "I don't understand why you suddenly don't."

"It's not that I don't." Tar'eon let out a breathless laugh like he could not fathom not wanting that intimacy with him. Truthfully, he wanted everything. "Astarion, I want you more than anything." He licked his lips, feeling the sting of the wound Astarion inflicted upon him. It was a pain he welcomed. A reminder of their connection, however tangled and knotted up it was.

"I could have you a million ways, and never be satisfied. I would...I would always hunger for you, always want more, but I could also be content with being given nothing." Tar'eon shifted, turning to face Astarion head on, needing him to hear his words, no matter how far away he may be. "You could refuse me every night for the rest of my life, and I would be happy to just be in your presence. I- I ache for you in ways I can't explain."

He swallowed hard, Astarions unreadable expression making his heart pound harder, butterflies and anxiety warring in his gut.

"I didn't want to tell you because I know it might scare you away. How...intensely I want you."

How intensely I love you.

Astarion was so still he could have been mistaken for an elaborate piece of art, for stone and marble. Tar'eon waited for him to speak, and seconds ticked on, dragging out painfully slow. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to touch Astarions face. He wasn't even breathing, but his inhale was sharp at the contact, breaking away from it and staggering away from the bed so fast Tar'eon could feel the breeze against his body. There was a sudden lack of warmth beside him, as ironic as it was. Tar'eons heart dropped.

"I...I need some air." Astarion finally spoke, voice rough as he turned on his heel and made for the door.

"Astar-" Tar'eon stood quickly, hooking his fingers into the crook of his elbow to make him stay, to make him speak what was on his mind before he took it with him and shut him out completely.

"Don't- do not keep me here." Astarion didn't even look at him, but he looked like he was trying to crawl into himself, smaller than Tar'eon had ever seen him. "I am not the one who should be here..." Tar'eons brows furrowed, not understanding his vague words. "So let me go. Now."

"Astar...Please. I'm not asking you to accept my feelings right now, I just...I needed you to know that I care about you. Past sharing a bed together, if that's what you had assumed."

"I said I need air, dammit!" The vampire snapped and pulled himself free, stumbling a few steps back with a heartbreaking expression Tar'eon could not name, not in the heat of the moment, but it felt like a sucker punch to the solar plexus regardless, watching Astarion turn to the door to flee. Flee from him.

Tar'eon expected a slam. Somehow, the gentle click of the door closing was worse. He swallowed hard, the weight on his chest becoming so unbearable he couldn't breathe.

He slowly approached the door, his hand brushing over the thick wood, tracing over the dips of its design. He knocked his horns against it and clenched his jaw, forcing the urge to cry back.

In doing so, another urge reared its head.

He held his head and furrowed his brow, the screaming echo in his mind ceaseless, his tadpole squirming, burrowing deeper like even it was trying to escape the violent wrath impending upon his mind. His vision was plague with images; Alfira's body, Nere's decapitated head, the sinking of the duergars body falling back, sinking into black waters. Bodies and bodies, stacked upon each other, the taste of blood filling his mouth, but it was a different taste to his own, a terrifyingly realistic memory to his taste buds. Gale's blood, rotten and metallic.

It continued, trying to drive him to madness as the thoughts forced themselves to the front and centre. Thoughts of squeezing until his claws broke past skin and bone, thumbs gouging into frightened red eyes, the satisfying sound of sinking his fingers into gore, into brain matter and squelching tissue, feeling cold blood run in rivets down his wrists.

He gasped, the ache like an anvil, mouth full of saliva with the desire to heave even as his heart pounding with the thrill of the kill, even the illusions of one. His gut was growing hot with anger, raging against the urge that wanted to control him just like the tadpole.

He bared his canines as he turned away from the door, refusing to follow after the man, lest he lose control. His knees felt weak, collapsing in on himself, his vision spotting. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he held his head, claws biting into his scalp. He realised the spots were because he wasn't breathing, holding trapped air in his chest, holding back the need to sob, whether from heartache or terror, he wasn't sure.

He opened his eyes and forced himself to suck in more air, his chest feeling ready to explode before he unleashed a roar, grasping the nearest object and slamming it into corner of the wardrobe, watching the wine bottle shatter on impact. Like it could scare the urge away.

He tasted blood once more, something more familiar. His own. He licked his lips, and recognised the taste was coming from above his top lip, rather than the puncture wound on his bottom. He reach up and wiped the blood from his nose, finally noticing the sting of the cut across it. He looked down at the glass at his knees and could tell which one had sliced him, a tag of skin caught on it's sharp edge.

He panted softly, finally able to breathe, but it didn't stop the whispers, the growing noise in his head, louder than the tadpole had ever been. Shakily, he stood, the neck of the bottle still in his right hand. It had turned it into a jagged, uneven thing. Useless for holding wine. He stared at the blood on his other hand, turning his gaze towards the full length mirror by the bed, his cloak, gifted to Astarion, hanging off the edge. He watched his reflection.

He looked like a beast. Hunched in on himself, blood pouring down around his nostrils and onto his mouth, the feral, terrified look in his eyes making it hard to reconcile himself with the image before him. He looked like something that might haunt the Shadow Lands, rather than something that was trying to lift it's curse. Something ghoulish, something monstrous.

He came to stand before the mirror, staring at his own face with burning intensity despite the fear making his stomach roil.

"I won't let you hurt him. I won't let you hurt any of them."

The urge still yearned for blood, screamed for it, thrashing against the bars of it's cage. Tar'eon would not let it free. He would not kill another innocent. He would not maim his friends.

"If you want blood; then you will settle for ours." He brought the jagged glass to his arm, pressing down until it surpassed the notion of pain and turned to agony, blood spilling down his forearm, dripping onto the floor in soft, wet splats.

It didn't silence the noise. The Urge. But it brought clarity to his own mind. Put him one step ahead of it, however precarious the step was. Threatening to crumble beneath his weight at any moment.

His left arm quivered, pain sharp and burning. He reached for his pack despite the agony of the action and fished out a healing potion with trembling fingers.

He looked at himself in the mirror as he pulled the top off, almost dropping it more than once, hand around the bottle slicked with his own blood. He shot it back and groaned, the relief a godsent.

He would not let himself be controlled by the monster in the depths of his soul. He would bleed enough to water a field as long as it kept his friends alive.

His life, a life he could not even remember, was not worth theirs.

It was not worth his.

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

If you liked Dragon Age Masterlist

If you’re anything like me, you’re into niche market, high fantasy, single player RPGs, preferably with a historical setting and romance options. So if you’re looking for a new game, here I am with some suggestions!

Sorted by studio:

Bethesda:

Oblivion (2006)

“In the shadow of evil, a hero will rise from the ashes of a fallen empire. The gates have been opened, and the battle has begun. Only one thing can save the world from Mehrunes Dagon and the demonic hordes of Oblivion. The true heir of the Septim line must be found and restored to the Imperial throne. The fate of the world rests in the hands of one. Find him, and shut the jaws of Oblivion.”

The Elder Scrolls series were my gateway into RPGs and hold a special place in my heart. Oblivion features a wide open world, immersive combat, and the ability to customize race, class, and gender.

Skyrim (2011)

“The Empire of Tamriel is on the edge. The High King of Skyrim has been murdered. Alliances form as claims to the throne are made. In the midst of this conflict, a far more dangerous, ancient evil is awakened. Dragons, long lost to the passages of the Elder Scrolls, have returned to Tamriel. The future of Skyrim, even the Empire itself, hangs in the balance as they wait for the prophesized Dragonborn to come; a hero born with the power of The Voice, and the only one who can stand amongst the dragons.”

I have sunk so many hours into this game and still have not experienced all there is to experience. Just like Oblivion, Skyrim offers the ability to customize your character and find a play style that suits you. A huge open world offers tons of opportunity for exploration and questing. You could play this game many, many hours and not even touch the main quest if you wanted to.

BioWare:

Mass Effect Legendary Edition (2021)

Just do it. Just fucking do it I’m still sobbing I’ve never had a game wreck me in this way. I might possibly like it more than Dragon Age which feels sacrilegious to say but it was so good. You follow Commander Shepard (customizable) for three whole games and the choices have serious consequences. Also, romance. Truthfully this might be the most well written storyline I’ve ever seen in a video game. Also, same studio as Dragon Age.

CD Projekt:

The Witcher III: Wild Hunt (2015)

I’ll let the website description speak for itself, but Witcher III was good enough that I didn’t mind being forced to play as a man (those who know me know that I exclusively prefer to play women and often dislike games where I can’t do so)! The characters that make up this story are captivating and suck you into their world, leaving you with some tough choices to make. Also, bonus points for romance! (Yen is one of my all time favorite characters, Triss never stood a chance for me. Sorry Triss fans 😂)

Larian:

Divinity Original Sin 2 (2017)

“The Divine is dead. The Void approaches. And the powers lying dormant within you are soon to awaken. Choose your role in a BAFTA-winning story, and explore a world that reacts to who you are, and the choices you make. With five races to choose from, and an adventure playable solo or as a party of up to four, lay waste to an oppressive order in a world afraid of magic. Become the God the world so desperately needs.”

Full disclosure, I have not finished playing this one yet and will update when I do, but what I’ve played so far has been great! A classic, turn-based RPG that allows you a wide range of character customization. I find this game incredibly satisfying to be a rogue (my preferred class) because it lets me live my dream of throwing knives at people. Also, romance!

Baldur’s Gate III beta (2020)

“An ancient evil has returned to Baldur's Gate, intent on devouring it from the inside out. The fate of Faerûn lies in your hands. Alone, you may resist. But together, you can overcome. Gather your party.”

Fair warning, as of my most recent update to this post (March 30th, 2021) this game is still in a beta phase, which means it is NOT complete and has aspects that are missing, glitchy, or subject to change. With that being said, I’m so obsessed. It’s so, so good already and is only getting better. Another wide open world to explore with a group of companions with strong and sometimes clashing personalities, choices are abundant in this game and will affect how your party members think of you. This game so far gives me the feeling that choices are complicated and aren’t always easy to tell which is morally right, which I personally love. Also, I can be a sarcastic ass with a good heart, which is always fun. Astarion basically owns me now, but if you can resist him there are plentiful other romance choices as well! Customization is already a wider range than I’ve seen in most RPGs and they haven’t even finished the character creator yet, which has me SO excited for the finished product. Also - good hair?!??!! I love it!

Lionhead:

Fable III (2010)

“Lead a revolution to take control of Albion, fight alongside your people, and experience love and loss while preparing to defend the kingdom against a looming threat. Your choices as ruler will lead to consequences felt across the entire land.”

I’ll be honest, this one isn’t my favorite on the list, but was good enough to still make it! This game allows you to choose between playing as the prince or the princess on a quest to save your kingdom from itself, and then a greater threat as well. The game takes place in a kingdom loosely modeled after industrial England, and what did score it some major points were (SPOILER WARNING - skip the purple if you don’t want to know!) that the last act of the game lets you play as the monarch, where you are forced to make some tough decisions in order to save your kingdom. It is very easy to back yourself into a corner, pinch pennies in order to fund the army and save the kingdom, but make your citizens hate you because of it. You’re gonna have to be very, very careful, which is something I did really enjoy about this game. (I’ve heard Fable II was better, and that’s also on my list to try, will update in the future!)

Nintendo:

Fire Emblem Three Houses (2019)

“War is coming to the continent of Fódlan. Here, order is maintained by the Church of Seiros, which hosts the prestigious Officer’s Academy within its headquarters. You are invited to teach one of its three mighty houses, each comprised of students brimming with personality and represented by a royal from one of three territories. As their professor, you must lead your students in their academic lives and in turn-based, tactical RPG battles wrought with strategic, new twists to overcome. Which house, and which path, will you choose?”

Currently playing this one and I’m so addicted! This one is slightly outside of my usual taste but it has made me interested in playing more games like it. The player controls Byleth (you can rename them if you wish), who becomes a professor of combat and battle tactics despite their young age at a monastery and finds themself in charge of a house of students. Battles are tactics and strategy based and classes are highly customizable. I sunk like 30 hours into this game in the last three days. I won’t say more about the plot to avoid spoilers, but it’s been a ton of fun and also has slow burn romance

Spiders:

Greedfall (2019)

This game destroyed my soul in the best way and when I finished it I immediately started a new game to play it again. You play as Lady or Lord De Sardet, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants and effectively the right hand of your cousin, who has been appointed governor of your new colony on the island. While I enjoy the combat in this game, which allows you the choice between one handed, two handed, magic, and pistols or rifles (save that ammo for when you really need it!), this game focuses heavily on diplomacy and relations. Be careful what information you give to whom and how you treat every decision. The enemies you make early on might be people you need on your side later. I also love that choices aren’t always clearly right or wrong, and often are more complicated than they first appear. Even the best intentions can sometimes go awry.

Ubisoft:

Assassin’s Creed, Syndicate (2015)

“London, 1868. In the heart of the Industrial Revolution, lead your underworld organization and grow your influence to fight those who exploit the less privileged in the name of progress”

Another one that I’ll admit, I haven’t finished, and is definitely the odd one out on the list because it’s set in Victorian England, but I was having fun with what I had played so far before Greedfall distracted me. In this game, you alternate between controlling twins Jacob and Evie Frye as you explore and liberate London while meeting famous historical figures and running a gang on the side.

Assassin’s Creed, Origins (2017)

“Ancient Egypt, a land of majesty and intrigue, is disappearing in a ruthless fight for power. Unveil dark secrets and forgotten myths as you go back to the one founding moment: The Origins of the Assassin’s Brotherhood.”

In the spirit of honesty, I haven’t started this one yet, but I am so confident that I’m gonna love it when I do that it’s here anyway. I’ve purchased it, and will get to it soon, I swear! In the meantime, I wanted to put it here because I’m confident some of you will enjoy it. Will come back with a review once I know more.

Assassin’s Creed, Odyssey (2018)

“Write your own epic odyssey and become a legendary Spartan hero in Assassin’s Creed® Odyssey, an inspiring adventure where you must forge your destiny and define your own path in a world on the brink of tearing itself apart. Influence how history unfolds as you experience a rich and ever-changing world shaped by your decisions.”

Y’all this game owned my soul for a while. I’ve sunk so many hours into it. You have a choice to play as either Kassandra or Alexios and navigate the wonders of Ancient Greece. The world is stunning, the choices are important, and this game took a big step for the assassins creed series in becoming a true RPG. I can’t recommend this one enough, you should absolutely go for it!

Assassin’s Creed, Valhalla (2020)

“Become Eivor, a legendary Viking warrior. Explore England's Dark Ages as you raid your enemies, grow your settlement, and build your political power in the quest to earn a place among the gods in Valhalla.”

This game is brand new, hot off the press, and has already been a massive hit. I have only JUST started playing it and am about an hour in, but so far so good! It’s here on my recommendations list because of its wild popularity and because I’ve already enjoyed other games in this series, so I feel confident that some of my fellow dragon age fans will enjoy it. Will update again once I get further in.

Other games on my To Be Played list (otherwise known as things I don’t want to recommend because I know almost nothing about them but will update here after I know more)

-Pillars of Eternity 1 and 2

-Horizon Zero Dawn

-Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag

-Fable 1 and 2

-Kingdoms of Amalur

-Breath of the Wild

-Crimson Desert (not out yet but I’m intrigued)

[whitewolfandthefox]

Call of the Wild Part 6

Summary: You meet the man who has been hunting shapeshifters

Words: 4.5k

Series Masterlist

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A/N. Next part, lovelies! Please let me know what you think, reblogs and comments really help me find the motivation to write.

The Sorcerer

You woke slowly, your whole body feeling fuzzy, head hurting. You groaned, sitting up as you lifted a hand to your forehead. The smell of tepid water invaded your senses, forcing you the rest of the way awake. You cracked your eyes open and froze, mind refusing to connect the scene in front of you to where you thought you were supposed to be. Suddenly, your memories of the night before came back to you in a blinding rush.

Kiala coming to warn you, frantic packing, hearing the shouts outside your home, seeing Vissen leading a mob towards you. Friends and family calling for your death, shouting and chasing you. Pain from the blows rained down upon you, shifting, running, hiding, someone help me, please, help, help, help, I don’t want to die-

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, afraid of what would happen if you let yourself sink too deeply. Looking around, you took in your dark surroundings. You were in a small cell, bars forming one side of the room. There was a small bed and a chamber pot, a chair being the only other furniture in the dreary space. The floors were made out of cold stone, the same as the walls. Hearing footsteps echoing around the space, getting closer, you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall, staying as far away from the door as you could. 

A group of men came into view, dressed in dark clothes and armour, except for one. The man in the middle was dressed in intricate robes, a dark maroon embroidered with black detailings along the sleeves and hems. He stared at you in interest. “This is it?” he asked. 

Your upper lip twitched, upset at being called an it, though you didn’t move. A man pushed his way to the front. “Yes, m’Lord, this is the shapeshifter who has been terrorizing our town.”

Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl as you saw who the man was. Vissen.

“Good, good,” the first man said absently, tossing a small bag his way. “Here is the rest of your payment.”

Horror flooded you as you realized that Vissen had thrown you out of your home for money. A growl slipped out of your mouth at that, causing Vissen to blanche and the other man to smile. 

“It does have teeth.” He gestured, and a guard threw your cell door open, the others rushing in. You were quickly apprehended, though you fought, squirming and trying to land blows to free yourself. It quickly ended with you hanging between two men, a third securing you against his chest as the man in maroon robes glided into the room. The man grabbed your face, turning it to examine your features. You growled at him, wrenching your face out of his grip and slamming your head into the nose of the guard restraining you, fighting to get free.

He laughed, a sharp unpleasant sound, ignoring the cursing of the man behind you. You winced as the guards tightened their grip on your arms, keeping you secure between them. Taking a step back, he looks you up and down, examining every inch. You shiver, his gaze is clinical, as if he doesn’t consider you worthy of feelings. At another gesture from him, you are dropped to the floor, pushing yourself away from the men as soon as you hit the ground.

The guards exit your cell, lingering in the hallway as the man seated himself on the chair. You shrunk against the wall, not liking the way his gaze rested on you. After a drawn out silence, he nodded to himself, relaxing back against his seat.

“Welcome to the new world, little creature.” The drawled nickname rankled you. “You have just become part of the research to further the survival of the human race. Not that you are one, of course.” He laughed, a bitter sound.

“You shapeshifters are the key to healing human diseases. With your regenerative powers and your accelerated healing, we could save thousands.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “If I could just figure out how you do it. But that’s why you are here, little creature, to help me discover just what it is that makes you tick.”

“You may call me Master Astarion, little creature, if you address me at all.” He stood as he said this approaching you. “I will teach you what we expect of you during your stay here, so that you will know to behave.”

“I will do no such thing, you bastard,” you hissed, struggling to your feet. The world spun around you as you tried to evade his grasp. His hand brushed you, causing your whole body to stiffen as a wave of burning heat swept through you. You dropped to the floor, writhing in pain at his feet, tears leaking out of your eyes. He crouched next to you, observing your actions with a clinical disinterest. As the fit subsided, your chest heaved with your desperate gasping, struggling to pull breath into your lungs.

 Your screams split the air as he again brushed his hand over you, muttering something under his breath. Lacerations appeared on various parts of your body, skin and muscle splitting to allow the blood within your veins to spill forward, staining your dress and pooling on the cold stone beneath you. Astarion reached into his pocket, staring at you as your back arched off the floor, rigid with pain. It was like nothing you had ever felt, a burning that never ended, setting all of your nerves alight with fire.

“Stop, please, stop, it hurts,” you begged of the man - sorcerer? - who was inflicting this agony upon you. 

“Shhh, I know,” he murmured, almost soothingly. You felt a hand brush down your cheek, but you were in too much pain to care. A pinch to your shoulder caused your eyes to fly open just in time to see the man produce a dagger from his pocket.

In one fluid motion, Astarion buried the dagger into your left shoulder, drawing a choked scream from your throat. Your body slumped, folding in on itself as pain shot out from your shoulder, overwhelming anything else in your body. Sobs wracked your body, breath catching in your throat as you choked on blood, reeling as you tried to deal with the pain surging through your body.

Distantly, you heard the man stand as he brushed his robes off. Stopping in the door, he turned to observe your fallen figure.  “Rest up, little creature, I will be back for you soon.” With that he left, the door to your cell clanging shut behind him.

Curling in on yourself, you dissolved into silent tears, pain overshadowing every thought. Absently, you reached for the warm feeling inside of you associated with Geralt, wrapping yourself in the warmth and trying to forget your situation. As you fell into darkness, you thought you could smell Geralt’s distinctive musky scent, an earthy smell underwritten with the flavour of pine and sweat. 

**~*~*~*~**

Busying himself with stripping and packing Yennefer’s tent, Geralt glanced over his shoulder to see Jaskier chasing Ciri across the clearing as her laughter filled the clearing. “Jaskier, are you and Ciri packed? We need to be ready to leave when Yenn gets back. You know how she is about waiting for you when you’ve been goofing off with Ciri and ignoring your tasks.”

Coming to a stop, Jaskier put his hands on his hips, and offered Geralt an offended look. “I am highly offended that you would even suggest that I wouldn’t finish packing before playing. “ He shushed Ciri as she came alongside him. “I am of course ready to go as soon as you are. Why, it's you and Yenn who are slowing us down!”

Geralt’s lips twitched as a black raven set down behind the bard, ignoring the continuous stream of protests coming from him.

“What about the clothes you have left to dry by the river? You are not bringing those?” Yennefer’s voice caused Jaskier to startle as she appeared behind him. Ciri giggled at her sudden appearance. “Seriously Jaskier, we’ve only been here a few days, how could you possibly have lost them already?

“My- what clothes?” Jaskier spluttered.

“We washed some of your doublets yesterday, Jask, don’t you remember? I was going to remind you, but you were too busy complaining.” At Ciri’s words Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, stalking away to retrieve his forgotten clothing, muttering under his breath about stupid Witchers and sorceresses. 

“Did you find the keep, Yenn?” Geralt demanded, turning to the woman as she fixed her dress from her flight.

She looked up, meeting his gaze as she studied him. “I did. I think they have a new shapeshifter they are experimenting on; they brought someone into the keep late last night.” This revelation drew a growl from Geralt. “You have never been so invested before, Geralt. What changed?”

He said nothing as he continued staring at her before looking away. “I don’t know, I just have this feeling that-”

He cut himself off as he staggered, hand flying to clutch at his left shoulder as pain shot through it, as if stabbed. 

“Geralt!” Ciri was immediately at his side, supporting him as he regained his equilibrium, Yennefer also moving towards him.

“I’m ok, my shoulder just burned for a moment.” he reassured her, patting her shoulder as he stood, pulling back his tunic to look at his shoulder, marked with nothing but old scars. He raised his eyes to meet Yennefer’s gaze. She was looking at him with a perturbed expression on her face. 

“What happened?” She reached out to touch his shoulder before hissing as she snatched her hand back as if burned. Stretching her fingers out, she examined them before looking back at her companions, both staring at her with confused expressions. “I felt someone else’s presence there, just for a moment. It felt almost like a…” she trailed off. 

“A what, Yenn?” Ciri inquired, Geralt staring at her with an almost guilty expression on his face. 

“Never mind, Ciri. I thought I felt something but I was wrong, it wasn’t what I thought. Would you mind going to help Jaskier collect his clothes? We need to leave soon.” She smiled gently at the girl as she sent her off after the bard before spinning and pinning Geralt with a glare.

“Geralt! I can’t believe you! Why would you leave that incomplete? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Geralt stared back at Yennefer with an unreadable gaze as she ranted at him. “You should know better! Of all the things you could have done, leaving that unfinished was the absolute worst choice! You could get seriously hurt if anything happened!”

“I didn’t know I had started one!” Geralt stalked away, tension radiating from his posture. “And I know the dangers, Yenn! I wouldn’t have left it unfinished, I would have…” he trailed off as Yennefer came to stand beside him, posture softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I know, Geralt,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”

**~*~*~*~**

You drifted on a haze of pain, never really surfacing, never going under. You could hear voices moving around as you felt yourself being shifted.

“Show me your other form and the pain will stop. Just change, I need to see your demon form, little creature.”

Sobbing, you shook your head. 

The pain increased, back arching, nerves feeling as if they had been set alight. 

You couldn’t give in.

The burning pain came again, screams tearing their way out of your throat, voice breaking. You remember pleading, no, please, don’t hurt me, I can’t give you what you want, I don’t know what you want, stopstopstopstop. Stop, I want to go home, please stop, please stop, let me go home, ithurtsithurtsithurts.

Geralt. Help.

Again you reached for that warmth, that string that you felt extending from you, cloaking yourself in its presence. You floated, trying to distance yourself from the pain, time passing as you sheltered within the presence.

“Just change, you little bitch! I need to see your shape shifter form!”

You could feel the knives, the pain, the warm blood pooling beneath your body as it cooled against the stone. Could feel the hands on your skin, in your skin, poking and prodding at you. Diving deep down, you curled your mind around your heart, hiding deep within yourself to escape the pain.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt fell to his knees, pain surging through him as Ciri cried out, Yennefer reaching for him, concern in her eyes, Jaskier frozen in place.

**~*~*~*~**

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness, your head spinning with blood loss. “It’s coming around, just give it another moment.”

Astarion’s face swam in your vision before solidifying, a sharp grin on his face. “There it is. Welcome back, little creature.”

You shot up to a sitting position, shuffling backwards until you hit the wall. Astarion was crouched in the middle of the room watching you, now dressed in dark pants and a loose grey tunic. He toyed with a dagger in his hand, the same one that he stabbed you with, you realized. Your hand came up to your shoulder, finding the wound scabbed over and tender to touch. Finding it mostly healed, you scrabbled at your arms, finding the same thing there, that the wounds that have been inflicted on you - hours? days? - before were sealed over, thin pink lines the only evidence they had ever been there.

“It’s quite remarkable isn’t it?” The words jolted you from your thoughts, pulling your attention back to the sorcerer. “A few days and you’re almost as good as new.”

“And just to think you disgusting creatures can heal like that. I don’t understand why your kind have been given this ability and my family had to die.” A sneer pulled his upper lip back from his teeth. “But that is no matter. Soon I will discover what your healing stems from and I will be able to share it with the rest of the human race. No one will have to die needlessly.”

As he said this, he approached you, dagger still in his hand. A tear ran down your face but you didn’t move, too tired to muster the energy. Astarion traced your features with the dagger, your eyes closing as another tear slid down your face. “It’s a shame to ruin such a fine specimen; you have healed exceptionally well, little creature. I will let you rest for now, I need to look over my notes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning, not to worry.” 

Suddenly he struck, burying the dagger in your stomach. Your breath left you as if punched, body curling to protect yourselves from any other blows. At your actions, or lack thereof, Astarion frowned.

“Hmm,” his eyes narrowed, “I thought for sure that would make you change.”

With his last remark, he stood and left your cell, leaving you lying on the floor, shivers wracking your body as the blood cooled beneath you. You reached a shaky hand down to press it against your stomach, hissing when the blade sliced your palm. You lay there for what felt like hours as the blood slowed, scabs starting to form around the wound. You grasped the hilt, yanking it out as you muffled a scream into your shoulder, pressing as hard as you could with both hands.

As the heaviness pressed in closer, you could feel the familiar warmth consume you. You went to it willingly, felt the world shift. You opened your eyes to see the world with sharper sight, heaving yourself to a standing position and yelping at the pull in your abdomen. You nosed at your side gently, seeing blood still glistening in your fur; the skin underneath was intact, although irritated and tender.

Lifting your head, you surveyed the room. The coppery scent of blood was strong, tinged with a bitter something underneath, of what you weren’t sure. You wrinkled your nose at it, not liking the smell. You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the slippery stones beneath your paws, coated in your blood. Your wounds pulled, but the pain was bearable. You began exploring the room, limping towards the edge of the room as your left shoulder protested the action.

It was rundown, an old castle that hadn’t seen occupants in decades. You had explored the surrounding area as a child before someone disappeared, after which your town kept well away from it. You knew that some of the outer walls had started falling apart, and hoped that this one was one of them.

Snuffling along the edge of the floor, you caught a whiff of fresh air. Darting towards it, you found a small hole in the wall, enough to allow a breeze into the room. You wouldn’t have noticed it had your senses not been enhanced.

Your heart sunk. There was no way you would fit through that whole, it was far too small for you. Closing your eyes, you nudged at the hole half-heartedly, despairing that you were so close to escaping, but not able to.

As you pushed, you felt some of the wall give way, a rush of air and dust filling the space. You ducked your head, rubbing your eyes on your leg in an attempt to remove the dust from them before observing the space. Although still not big enough, it was closer to your size now. Your heart lifted slightly as you ducked your head to push at the stones again, using your front paws to push the excess material out of the way.

Suddenly, your head pushed through the opening into the forest, your eyes rapidly adjusting to the change in light. It was dark out, a waxing crescent moon hung high in the sky providing little to no illumination.

Pulling yourself back in, you pushed the rest of the material aside, widening the hole enough for your small body to fit through. As you were finishing the opening, you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Shifting back, you slumped against the wall to hide the opening.

Vissen rounded the corner and stopped in front of your cell. You glared at him as you felt hatred bubbling up within you. This man was the reason you were here in the first place, his greed had driven him to do unspeakable things. He leered at you.

“Bet you are regretting rejecting me now, bitch.” Rage swept through you as you realized that he had done this as revenge. You schooled your features, the anger that was boiling within you threatening to spill over. “No words for me? I’m glad I didn’t take you as my wife now, a beast like you could never love anyone. You just maim and murder; I did the town a favour by ridding them of you.”

“You know nothing -” you cut yourself off, stopping your movement as you leaned towards him, hands itching to wrap around his throat.

“What do I not know?” he taunted.

When you didn’t respond, his smirk grew larger. Something sparked in his eyes. “Too tired to move, sweetheart?” Your skin crawled at his words. “Perhaps I will just have to help you.”

Moving slowly, he unlatched your cell, stalking towards where you sat motionless on the floor. Come a little bit closer, you bastard, and you’ll be able to help me so much more.

When he was within reach, you leapt, pulling at his arms, hands forcing him to the ground as you reached for this throat. In your weakened state, he quickly overcame you, rolling so that he was pinning you to the ground, hands on your shoulders, hot breath against your neck. “Even if you didn’t want me, I will still have you, my sweet.”

You squirmed as his hands roamed lower, tears burning in the back of your eyes. You fought desperately, reaching for the power within you, covering yourself with it like a blanket, body shrinking as you shifted. You sank your teeth into his hand, gripping as hard as you could, letting go when he started flailing, small body flying through the air to hit the wall. You yelped at the impact, pain flashing through you before you rolled to your feet, shaking your head to clear the fog.

He wailed, clutching his hand to his chest as he rolled to his knees. “You demon!” He froze as you regained your feet, a low growl rumbling out of your chest. “I’ll show you! Guards! Help! She’s changed, she’s - ack!”

At his words you leapt, aiming for his chest. Your weight knocked him to the ground, landing on his chest as you snarled, lips pulled back from your teeth. As Vissen flailed, you jumped forward and ripped his throat out with your teeth. The man slowly went still, gurgling as his death rattle left his chest.

You rolled off his body, going still as you stared at the man choking on his blood. You had killed someone. I didn’t mean to! Gods, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Staggering to the side, your front legs collapsed as you retched, trying to rid yourself of the taste in your mouth.

Horrified at what you did, you backed away, eyes not leaving the body of the man you once knew. You could hear the shouts and footsteps getting closer. You turned, rushing towards the hole you had made, slipping out of it and disappearing into the night, the sounds of men rising behind you as the body was discovered and a search party organized. As you ran, you tried to forget the taste of copper on your tongue, forget the body you were leaving behind.

**~*~*~*~**

After Geralt had collapsed, Yennefer had insisted that they stop for the night. Geralt had protested at first, but gave in as more waves of pain washed over him. Jaskier had motherhenned the larger man for the rest of the evening, Ciri tucked into his side. Every once in a while Geralt would flinch, and Yennefer would stare at him with a knowing look. Geralt wouldn’t say anything, just staring back, a challenge in his face. 

Once Jaskier and Ciri had fallen asleep, Yennefer gestured at Geralt, the two of them standing and moving a little farther from their fire. 

“What’s her name?” Yennefer fixes him with a piercing look that said he better tell her what was going on or he wouldn’t like the consequences. 

Geralt sighed, running a hand over his face. “Y/N.” His voice was pained, expression tight. “She was a healer that found me in the woods. I had been injured, ambushed by a monster, and when she healed me, she had a conduit moment. I stayed a few days to help her learn more about our kind.”

Yennefer stayed silent, marvelling at the softness that had crept into her companion’s eyes as he spoke. “She was kind, didn’t judge me for being a Witcher or for being a shapeshifter, even before she knew she was one. It was easy with her, it felt right to be with her.” He turned to Yennefer. “It wasn’t intentional, I just… It just happened.” 

“You need to go find her.” Geralt started at Yennefer’s words. “This could harm both of you and something has clearly happened, I’ve seen you flinching all day. Don’t argue with me, Geralt.” She held a hand up as he opened his mouth to protest. “I need you at your best and you aren’t while you’re separated.” 

His body slumped, a sigh escaping from between his lips. “Okay.” His response was quiet. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Yennefer was surprised; she had expected Geralt to have put up more of a fight on this. This girl really was something if she could make Geralt listen, even when not present. “We will go tomorrow. We are not separating, Geralt, not this close to the sorcerer. I will not risk any of us.”

Geralt nodded as she turned back towards their camp. He followed her to the fire, laying down on his bedroll as his thoughts turned to you. Your face and voice filled his dreams that night; he could hear you calling out to him. Sleep did not come easily.

The next morning, Jaskier and Ciri were confused when Yennefer told them they were making a stop before they went to the keep where the sorcerer had been hiding, but quickly fell into step when she mentioned something about another shapeshifter. Geralt was even quieter than normal as they travelled, growing more tense the closer they got to their destination. 

When Jaskier started singing, trying to amuse Ciri and annoy Yennefer, Geralt snapped at him to be quiet. When Ciri asked to ride with Geralt on Roach he pulled her up, but only grunted at her questions rather than answering them as he usually did. Realizing the severity of the matter, both Ciri and Jaskier fell quiet, their conversations subdued as they travelled.

It was dark when they arrived, the small pack finally turning a corner to see a little house set back in the woods. Geralt was flinching at anything that spooked him, Roach nervous beneath him, having picked up on her master’s emotions. Reaching the gate, he quickly dismounted, shoulders relaxing as the house appeared to be untouched. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he approached the door, knocking gently to alert you to his presence. “Y/N? It’s me, I’m back.”

“Y/N?” Jaskier whispered, turning to Yennefer. “Who is that?” Ciri popped her head out from behind him, curious as to the answer to her counterpart’s question.

As Yennefer opened her mouth to answer, they heard the sound of a body against wood, the door breaking beneath Geralt’s shoulder as he forced entry to the house, disappearing through the entrance. His three companions quickly ran after him, freezing in the doorway at the sight of Geralt. He was standing motionless in the middle of the trashed room, looking down at something in his hands. Tables and chairs were upturned, books scattered across the floor, 

He turned slowly to look at them, a dagger that they recognized as the twin to his own held in his hands. His face was emotionless, but his eyes told a different story. His golden eyes were full of anguish, a storm of horror and guilt washing through them.

“Geralt?” Yennefer took a hesitant step forward, hand reaching out to do what, she wasn’t sure.

Geralt slowly sunk to the floor, staring at the dagger cradled gently in his hands. At the sound of Yennefer approaching, he lifted his head, face filled with fear.

“She’s gone.”

**~*~*~*~**

Like always, I super appreciate comments and reblogs, they keep me going! Add yourself to my taglist here!

Witcher taglist: @riviawitch3r / @jensensjaredsandmishaslover / @ayamenimthiriel / @uncoolcloudyhead / @secretsthathauntus / @vintage-mind-young-body / @creamysacrilege / @hina-chans-stuff / @bastardfruitsandbasil / @shewritesinthethirdperson / @widowvinter / @unnamedmaincharacter​ / @thenocturnalsyren​ / @loudlycolorfulkryptonite​ / @whatawildone / @geraltmrwitcher / @psychosupernatural / @chickennooget69 / @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot

Call of the Wild taglist: @raspberrydreamclouds / @queenxxxsupreme / @achievementhunting-archangel / @alwayshave-faith / @afterthenightprevails / @a-door-into-my-mind / @msjjekyll / @ilovetaquitosmmmm / @bloo-moon-freak / @theblurplegirl  / @mathle0matle / @agniavateira  @thedevotedwitness / @fandoms-and-sunshine / @sofiebstar / @emiwrites3reads / @shadok2015​ / @chamomilebottom / @unlimitedd

[bg-brainrot]

This last chapter with reincarnation!Tav took a bit longer than it usually takes me and I think it's because of this scene in particular. As someone who projects some (a lot) onto Astarion, I knew I would need to address his grief over past!Tav in a way that felt real to me*, while still being distinctly him. I got there eventually, and now I'm pleased to be a bit proud of the scene c':

*Disclaimer: everyone processes grief differently, everyone wants different things in their healing process.

“Ever so helpful, aren’t you?” he snaps. Then, realizing what he’s said, wipes a hand over his face and looks up at you. His eyes are conflicted. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I suppose I just didn’t realize that my company was that disagreeable. It’s a rather uncomfortable thing to come to terms with.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, closing the door behind you and stepping in now. You set down your spoils and turn toward Astarion. His entire demeanor, his body, looks to be on edge, like something has been chipping away at him.

Astarion closes the book in his lap, and you note that the cover is upside down. “It’s just this damned tavern. I know I can’t eat, but I guess I got used to sharing meals with, erm, you. Them.” He drops his head and mumbles, almost too quiet to hear, “I don’t even know anymore.”

He’d mentioned before how difficult it had been for him, trying to reconcile who you are, who you were, but he’d recused himself every time it got to be too much. Here, sharing a room in the Elfsong, neither of you could run away from the roiling storm of his emotions.

Faced with his hanging head and the hunch of his shoulders, you haven’t a clue how to approach the man you can only call a friend. You almost wish this was a memory, if only for your emotions to come through clearly, your next course of action to be predetermined. But, of course, you are the only one capable of dealing with the consequences of your own actions.

You approach him slowly, cautiously, and call out his name. “Astarion?”

The man lifts his head up to you, and you find torment twisting his fair features. His breathing seems shallow and rushed. The lines around his mouth deepen as he reads your expression and he only replies, “Please don’t.”

“Don’t?” you ask, stopping just short of his bed.

“Don’t look at me like that– With that infernal pity. I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine, and you don’t feel pity. It’s hard to parse out your emotions, but you mostly feel bad. The idea that he’d been suffering alone, that he had harbored this turmoil, all without letting you in… it hurts. Whether or not he loves you, he said he cared about you. He claims to be your friend and friends don’t shut each other out like this.

“I know you don’t want to get more attached to me,” you say, taking another step. “But I promise I am only doing this as a friend.”

You don’t give him time to react, to protest your presence, before your arms reach down and envelop his form. It’s an awkward angle, with his body hunched, curled on his bed, yours draping over him like an unwelcome cloak– he stiffens under you at first.

Then his tension melts.

His hands come up, grasping at your elbows and holding you in place. His soft, silver hair tickles your neck as his head leans into your chest. His whole body angles toward yours, as if seeking your warmth desperately.

You cling back, tilting your head into his. Your hands grip his sides tightly. Your presence is firm, your warmth his to take.

You hold him like that for a time, neither of you wanting to pull away from the simple, beautiful feeling of holding one another. Initially, you’d held him for his sake, but you find that the longer you stand there, the more your own soul settles. If a soul could crave, this is what mine would yearn for.

If you want to read the full chapter, chapter 18 is here!