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monzamash · 2 years ago

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the good, the bad and what could’ve been — lando norris (part one)

summary – nine years. an age gap that you didn’t know would cause so much heartache. you tell yourself that it’s fine, he tells you that he could give you the world but this was a cautionary tale of what could’ve been if you just let love win. pairing – lando norris x you (female reader) chapter rating – mature (sexual references, language, age gap/older woman) word count – 7k inspired by charlie puth's song called boy. masterlist

part one | part two | part three

Drenched rat was the only way to describe your appearance as the late evening downpour rained all over your parade. It had been one of those days that seemed to go on forever and there was nothing you wanted more than to see that last client waltz out of the studio and into those glorious Friday night shadows. Thank god it was the weekend.

"Any plans for the weekend, lovey?" Rae, your friend and closest co-worker asked from across the room, cleaning up her station for the last time this week.

You shrugged, not really having the mental capacity to even respond but she was being polite and the least you could do was answer.

"Maybe... My little brother's turning 21 and has reluctantly extended an invite my way so just loose plans at this stage. You?"

Rae went on to detail her jam-packed weekend with her husband, who like her was the life of every party. They were freshly married – only 3 months or so but they had been endgame since their college days apparently, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. Positivity exuded them wherever they went and you hated to admit that there was a pang of envy whenever they rocked up to after work drinks together or he dropped off her lunch that she'd left at home. Smitten by each other even after all these years.

All those little things festered away and created a small pit of jealousy in your stomach that you resented. You were happy, right? You had a successful career, a cute apartment and suitors 'round the block waiting for you to make up your mind and just fucking pick one of them. Anyone.

What Rae had was a once in a lifetime kind of love, you thought as the overhead lights were turned off and Patrick motioned for you to grab your shit and go home. The studio was cloaked in darkness as you squeezed through the small door, locked and loaded with an umbrella and a backpack filled with sketchbooks and diaries. And all you could do was pray that they were waterproofed enough to make the journey home.

"See ya Monday – and try to be on time, yeah?" Patrick arrogantly jabbed your way before disappearing out of sight and hopefully out of your life for the next 48 hours – or longer if you could get your shit together.

"Fucking arsehole," You muttered as Rae huddled under your umbrella, brushing your back with understanding.

"He doesn't know how to treat you because you intimidate him," She shook her long, black hair and rubbed her hands together, attempting to generate enough heat to keep warm as the thick fog rolled through the streets.

You shrugged, knowing that she was just trying to lighten the mood and send the week off with a positive – something she always liked to do for you, especially after a week filled with the same old bullshit. You were overbooked, overworked and wishing you were anywhere but here.

"It's nothing a really expensive bottle of wine can't fix," You half-joked and made sure Rae was sheltered before bidding her goodbye, "See you in hell on Monday."

Rae sent you a sullen wave, no doubt wishing she could've cheered you up just a little before going home to her seemingly perfect life. There wasn't much point trying when all attempts fell on deaf ears – nothing could pull you out of the perpetual cycle of drink, sleep, work, repeat. That was how it was and how it would always be and you had come to terms with that.

The short walk home from the studio was a miserable one, which was to be expected strolling the streets of London in the middle of December. But the glimmering lights reflected in the evening downpour and the smell of food cooking – sizzling kebab if you had to really hone in on the smokey, chargrilled scent wafting through the cool air, made it a little more bearable than usual. That didn't mean much considering nothing had brought you joy for months. Not even the discreetly packaged vibrator your best friend had left in a box on your doorstep with a sticky note saying, 'you deserve it'. Tragic.

You grumbled quietly to yourself, noticing a nosy neighbour standing beside the entrance to your building, waiting for either you or a cab. It was always hard to tell. She was an older lady who loved to pry and nothing gave her more pleasure than to bundle people up and have a chat. She was harmless and meant well but the last thing you needed tonight was an ambush.

"Sorry Effie, I have to get upstairs and get out of these wet clothes."

You got in first with the excuse and she simply smiled and waved. Effie knew the trials and tribulations of a London winter since she'd lived here all her life, simply wishing you a wonderful weekend and making you feel bad for brushing her off.

The apartment was cold and dimly lit as you flicked on the kitchen light and chucked your backpack down on the couch with a huff. You hoped it would feel better being home after a long day but you knew you had no food, no company and a cold bed waiting for you upstairs. All things that made it impossible to look on the bright side.

"Fuck. My. Life," You groaned into the fridge and slammed it shut, internally wishing past you had organised something for dinner.

You did as you told Effie and went upstairs to change into something comfier and less wet – a tracksuit set, combat boots and new beanie to cover the bird’s nest you called a "hairstyle". The floor length raincoat you should've taken to work was waiting for you at the front door – almost taunting your never-ending brain fades. You scooped up your keys and scarf and headed downstairs again, hoping that Effie had left to wherever the hell she was going on a Friday night. The fact a 70 year old woman had more of a social life should've worried you more but you were too tired to care.

By now it was a quarter to midnight and there was really only one option to get anything resembling food this late since the closest Waitrose was a 10-minute walk away. You had already burnt your bridge there by rocking up at closing time, forcing them to keep the tills open so you could buy emergency ice cream. You couldn't show your face there ever again.

The bright blue and red lights spilling into the puddles that were still filling from the rain was a welcomed sight. It was the only sign of life for miles, besides yourself and you were grateful having a 24-hour Tesco Express right around the corner. Capitalist convenience was in working order. The florescent lights were not as pleasant as you walked in and triggered the bell hanging over the automatic doors.

A familiar voice sang out your name, greeting you from behind the counter with a half-arsed smile adorning his kind face. You grabbed a basket and gave him a wave.

"Hi Kev," You meekly returned and continued on your way down the aisles, hoping to find a few things that would tide your hunger over until the sun came up.

You stopped at the confectionary section and perused for a second, debating whether a sugar hit this late in the night was the responsible adult thing to do. Your mum's authoritarian voice rang in your ears as you reached out and grabbed a bag of skittles, smiling to yourself as you dropped them into the basket. That smile had been the first of the day, maybe even of the week and it felt nice for a split second to feel the weight lifting from your shoulders.

"Late dinner?"

The voice came from a few steps away and belonged to a smirking stranger. He was taller than you, even hunched over the bargain bin he was rifling through. His hair was curly and sopping wet and it was hard to tell if it was just dark because of that or naturally, but your confused gaze connected with his and the smile that had just been on your cold face had disappeared.

"Excuse me?" You quietly asked and stared into his icy blue eyes, prepared to strike with a snarky comeback or two.

"The skittles," He pointed to your basket, "That used to be my evening meal a few years ago until I realised I was an addict and had to get help."

The kind smile on his face softened your stern expression, "Oh, right... Well I'm glad you found the help you needed. Maybe I should too," You tried to muster a joke and he laughed – loudly.

Nobody laughed like that at anything you had said lately because most of the things you did say were either dripping in sarcasm or laced with self-deprecation. Both weren't cute or endearing the longer it became apart of your personality. But he liked your joke enough to give you a boost of serotonin and your smile was back –even brighter than before.

"I did but you should definitely level it out with something else – maybe something chocolaty," The mystery man nodded towards the rows of chocolate bars lining the racks in front of you, now openly encouraging your bad habit.

His accent was different to what you were used to – British, kind of upperclass, kind of not but laced with something else and you were intrigued. Maybe even a little mesmerised by the way he stood his ground, making small talk to a complete stranger in the middle of the night. He looked cozy too, tracksuit clad like you, giving zero fucks about how you fashionable you looked, or really what anyone thought. Comfy, friendly, warm – he was different.

"Great suggestion but I think this will do enough damage," You replied, making him chuckle again.

"I'll live my junk food fantasies vicariously through you," He said before he turning on his heel and making his way to the register at the front of the store, humming to himself.

You could hear his boisterous yet kind voice as you grabbed a pre-mixed salad and lined up behind him, "Thanks man – have a great night," He said to Kevin who no doubt appreciated a friendly face this late in the night.

The stranger sent one lasting smile your way and said 'hope you do too' before he exited with his bag of almonds and a coconut water. Simple and nutritious – which was more than you could say about your late night dinner choices.

With a genuine pep in your step and your items safely tucked under your arm, you left the shop feeling a lot lighter than you did when you walked in and that was something unexpected. A polite run in with a stranger was an unlikely mood-booster but you were clinging to it while it lasted. That was until you noticed a shadowy figure walking up ahead as you rounded into your street and slowed down, but the person heard your footsteps loud and clear.

Internally cursing yourself for wearing the loudest boots you owned, you relaxed a little when you realised it was the man from the store, who had thrown a thick puffer jacket over his orange hoodie. There was a short pause as your eyes met and a puzzled look flashed across his flushed face, wind blown.

"I'm not stalking you," You said in hopes of easing his confusion, "I live here."

You pointed to the large wooden door that led into your apartment building as you tugged your jacket closed, trying to trap any warmth left in your body. The man turned around and looked to where you were pointing before spinning back with a soft chuckle, "And I live there."

He gestured to the building across the small side street you were both standing in, looking as bewildered as each other. It was your turn to laugh as the penny dropped – you were neighbours.

"Small world," You humorously replied and took a few long strides past him. As cute as he was in the darkness, you were frozen solid and needed to thaw out as soon as possible otherwise you'd be asking him for a ride to the hospital.

"See you around?" He asked more as a question than a statement and you nodded with a small, chattering smile.

"Yep," You simply replied and buzzed yourself into the building, shivering beneath all the layers you'd put on before leaving. Even though you were smiling through gritted teeth and feeling warmth from the fleeting conversation, the several layers of clothing and a genuine smile from a stranger weren't even enough to keep you from hypothermia. You couldn't wait to get upstairs and sit by the heater, wishing you were in some quaint country cabin far, far away.

"Yep... Just keep the peel on until tonight and then wash your thigh with that soap I gave you... Yep, warm water is perfect and make sure you put on a thin layer of cream after that... It’ll probably be a little red but I promise you’ll heal perfectly so don't stress," You reassured your client who had gotten her first ever tattoo yesterday.

Your work was rewarding in so many ways but the pressure of working for someone else came with it's unique challenges. There was nothing you wanted more than to open up your own little tattoo shop with Rae and live your life the way you wanted to – not the way some washed up muso envisioned. With a few more words of encouragement, you managed to reassure your client and begin your Saturday, doing a whole lot of nothing.

The sun was shining at least and you figured you might as well enjoy some of what the day had to offer before your night out later this evening. Your brother had given you strict instructions on when and where his birthday drinks were going to be and you knew then that making an appearance at this thing was now a non-negotiable. You couldn't be seen as the flaky older sister again and you didn't want to let him down – that relationship was one of very few that were sacred in your life and turning 21 was a big deal.

It wasn't long until you were strapping on your heels, sticking a couple more bobby pins into the messy bun you were trying to tame and trotting down the staircase, ready to mingle. You had been single now for much longer than you would've liked and although there had been moments of weakness, nothing had amounted to more than a shitty one-night stand. And it was infuriating.

A complete exodus from dating apps hadn't helped your cause but you couldn't handle another ghosting, especially not from some grubby dude who had no right being anywhere near you. You had standards that were high and there was nothing wrong with that – until a couple of gin and tonics are consumed and you forget you were even human. All of a sudden your standards have left the building along with you and said grubby dude.

"Hey!" A voice echoed from across the street as you closed the building door and glanced around with furrowed brows, wondering who was calling out your way.

That's when you spotted him – the man from last night who you couldn't stop thinking about, even if you didn't want to admit it. He looked different in the daylight and definitely lived up to parts of the vision you'd conjured after your random meeting in the street. The curls were there, as were the light blue eyes that caught your attention but he was younger than you first thought, a lot younger which was an important detail that you'd missed in the darkness. One you wished you had of noticed before summoning those late-night thoughts.

"Hi again," You greeted with crossed arms, trying to cover the somewhat revealing dress underneath your jacket.

You quickly clocked his athleisure wear and concluded that he was probably going to the gym with his friend who was trailing closely behind him. They were both full of smiles as you crossed the road, figuring you had to wait for your cab anyway so you might as well have company.

"I realised after I went in last night that I didn't even introduce myself – I'm Lando," He said and held out his hand for you to shake.

"Well in our defence it was super late and my brain was definitely mush," You replied and grasped his warm hand, introducing yourself.

You'd be lying if you didn't say there was a small, flash of something resembling a spark as you shook his hand. A little buzz of excitement that in the moment you chalked up to being super alone and outrageously horny. Desperate didn't even begin to describe the mess that was your sex life and with that in mind, your snap reaction of having undeniable chemistry with him was probably not accurate. But whether it was a figment of your imagination or not, it was still a valid feeling and you were going to have to bury that shit.

"Nice to put a name to the face," Lando smiled and turned to his friend who up until this point had remained quiet, "This is my father, Carlos."

You knew he was pulling your chain, or at least you hoped he. His friend shoved him in the side, fervently shaking his head, "Clearly not his father but Hola," He sheepishly greeted, voice laced with a thick accent and a smile that would make any sane individual with two eyes and a pulse melt in place.

"I was gonna say that's a little suss but I don't judge without context."

You glanced between the two men with a smirk and held your hands up – making them both chuckle quietly. They also eyed each other, a silent nod following that you couldn’t quite decipher. It was fleeting, almost so much so that if you blinked, you would’ve missed it. Maybe you wished you did because now you were cursing yourself for not taking that body language class at university all those years ago. Pointless and too bohemian for your liking, you thought at the time but now, standing on a rain gutter, you regretted passing such haste judgment. Their unspoken conversation infuriated you internally as Lando looked back at you with an awkward smile.

"Nah, I'm an appropriately aged guy and definitely not a child..." Lando trailed off and clumsily scratched the back of his neck, "Don't know what I mean by that but um yeah, not his son obviously." He was fumbling, frantically trying to change the subject but instead looked down at his dirty white sneakers with a grimace, internally face-palming himself.

You bit down on your mauve coloured bottom lip and tried to conceal the smile threatening to reveal itself. He was cute. Awkward? Absolutely. A little dorky with his oversized hoodie and boyish grin? You could say that but he was still kind of cute nonetheless.

"Obviously," You replied sweetly and noticed your uber pulling up outside your apartment building, ready to take you somewhere you could drown your shitty week away.

"Nice to officially meet you and your dad – see you around." You winked and maintained eye contact with Lando before strutting across the street and jumping in your uber.

You wondered what they said once you were gone and whether you looked better in broad daylight or in the shadows of the night. Your intrusive thoughts were quickly pushed aside when you realised he was more than likely taken, or not interested. Or more importantly, way too young for you to even be having these thoughts about. The good ones never were right for you – there was always something. It was like a curse that you'd picked up somewhere along the way – a curse that forbid any man with a job and their shit together to look your way twice. You were invisible to those men lately and you couldn't help but blame yourself.

With a mission to find someone to take your mind off those negative thoughts, you ordered your first drink, and then your second drink and you guessed it – your third and fourth in quick succession. You swore the dance floor was falling out from under your feet as your brother and his girlfriend scooped you up and called you an Uber. The night was over before it had even begun and you knew you'd be filled with regret in the morning. But right now, you were just lucky to be standing upright.

"Will you be okay?" Your brother asked as you flopped into the back of the car, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Pfft, I'm a professional drinker," You hiccupped and covered your mouth, "I'll be fine – driver, take me home!"

The uber driver mumbled something under his breath and punched in the address your brother had given him, no doubt sick of trashed girls on the brink of vomiting, flailing around in the back of his car. You were a mess and attempting to cover that up by drinking wasn't doing you any favours. In fact you knew it was only going to make you feel worse – especially tomorrow.

"Alright, you're home," The driver said loudly, waking you up from the quick nap you decided to take in the backseat, blaming the warmth for lulling you to sleep.

"Make sure you grab everything."

A scoff slipped past your lips as you gathered your bags, "I know what I'm doing," You retorted, not realising that you were probably slurring every word and most definitely making absolutely no sense to someone who was stone-cold sober.

You closed the door and nearly fell forward over the gutter doing so, trying to balance in the heels that had caused your feet to go numb. The black car drove off and you waved like a maniac, thinking you were hilarious before rummaging through your handbag for your keys. You could barely see through blurry vision and the cold air made every inch of you exposed skin tingle as you stumbled into the brick wall of your building. At least you were home.

"Fuck," You hissed to yourself as you dug through the bag and saw nothing but a dark void. It was an impossible task without the flash on your phone to light the way.

The sound of a car door slamming shut across the street startled you out of your intoxicated rage, causing a few items to tumble from your handbag, including your phone. And there he was again, dressed smartly this time – the mystery man who's name you couldn't quite remember in your drunken state. You turned away and frantically started looking for your keys again, hoping to God he wouldn't come over and see you looking like a complete mess. Famous last thoughts.

"Early night?" His innocent question echoed through the empty street and you closed your eyes, knowing there was no way you could avoid him now – especially since you were locked out of your apartment with nowhere to go.

You bashfully looked up through your fake eyelashes and sent him a lazy smile, "Yeah, didn't quite uhm, end up – end up the way I expected," You managed to stammer through your sentence, hoping he could understand some of what you were saying.

"Well we've all been there... Do you need help?" He asked and looked down at your hands that were full, "Because you've dropped a couple of things in the gutter..."

You looked down and realised you'd dropped not only your phone but also your purse, a powder compact and a small sketchbook, "I'm – I'm a real fucking idiot and I've lost my keys... I think... I think I left them in the uber," You confessed and conceded the obvious. You were locked out of your apartment in the dead of an English winter, dressed like an expensive escort. A disaster.

"Ah, crap. Have you given anyone a spare key?"

The glimmer in his eyes as you looked up from your bag made your heart skip a little in your chest. He was handsome, the curls you’d clocked falling onto his forehead as he stood up, and you couldn't stop staring until he snapped you out of your trance, your name falling effortlessly from his chapped, shivering lips, breath causing a thick fog to form in front of your confused face.

"Oh... uhm, my – my friend... ah shit what's her name?... God, what is wrong with me," You grumbled, breath mingling in the cold air as you rubbed your face, "What's your name again?"

"It's Lando," He kindly replied with a soft chuckle and tucked away the objects he’d picked up for you, knowing there was no way you would be able to do any of that in the state you were in.

“Lando,” You repeated quietly, “Like the star trek dude? I’ve never seen it but… that’s right, right?” Even you could hear your incoherent mumblings, making yourself physically cringe because he was too polite to correct you, “Just stop talking, idiot.” You whispered to yourself, or at least you hoped he didn’t hear you. He did.

"Definitely named after the dude in star trek,” He chuckled softly and scanned the empty street, wondering what the hell he was going to do with a drunk, helpless woman.

He couldn’t leave her like this but he also had plans – a blind date that had been sprung on him and set up by Carlos at the gym. Sure, he had been regretting saying yes to it but he hadn’t been out on a date in months, maybe longer and he was sick of the late night hook up that had become too much of a regular occurrence, though completely random. He wanted more than that, something worth his precious time and he didn’t need the drama that came from the one-night stands. It didn’t even matter how good it felt in the moment. Occupied sheets and empty promises didn’t keep him warm at night. It made him physically ill.

But now he was faced with what was obviously a challenge – a beautiful mess of a rescue mission.

“Look, why don't you come in out of the cold and we'll call your nameless friend who has your spare key?"

Your eyebrows furrowed and you blinked a couple of times before looking at the locked door beside you, "I can't go inside because *hiccup* I've lost my keys... I think I left 'em in that uber... But he was just here, I swear..."

Lando stifled a giggle again and slowly nodded, "Yep, we've been over that but I meant my place. Not sure if you remember this but I live over the street from you... Right there," He gestured towards the opposite building and you rolled your eyes.

"I know that, buddy," You sarcastically retorted, "I'm not stupid." You were slurring up a storm and he simply smiled in response – his patience was commendable.

"My apologies... But I'm freezing and you're turning blue so come on – I promise I'm not a weirdo," He held out his hand and nodded towards his building, blue eyes glimmering under the dim streetlight.

You sighed and linked your icy fingers with his, "You better not be a weirdo..." You rasped and let him guide you over the road, silently enjoying clinging to his muscular bicep and watching his ringlets blowing in the wind.

As you let your entire body weight brush against his arm, you felt something sharp digging into your ribs, a foreign object that you swore wasn’t there before. You stopped in your tracks, leaving Lando confused as you reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a set of keys – "Wow."

“Oops,” You grimaced, goofy grin instantly sweeping across your face when Lando looked down at your hands, chuckling at you as you stumbled out of his grasp, “Guess you don’t get to murder me tonight, Lawrence!”

“Not even close,” He shuffled back with a smile and observed your every move, ready to swoop in if you did stack it in the middle of the street. You were like a baby giraffe, clomping across the damp asphalt in your heels, giggling to nobody. “You know where I live if you need anything.”

“Yeah, yeah!” You shouted back, trying your best to smoothly exit the situation and from your perspective, you were killing it.

But reality was a cruel, unforgiving beast – and you were failing miserably to play it cool as you toppled through the building door and nearly face-planted into the couch nestled in the foyer. It was a miracle that you didn’t fall, Lando thought as a smitten grin surfaced on his frost bitten cheeks while he walked upstairs to his own apartment, drafting the dreaded ‘sorry I can’t make it' text but feeling no regret at all.

You were all he could think about for the rest of the night – a beautiful hurricane rolling through his life for the briefest of moments, a burst of long wavy hair, trench coat fluttering in the wind and for a second he wished, deep down that maybe you had lost your keys. As quickly as that thought crossed his mind, he shooed it away – knowing already that you were out of his league, hell, you weren’t even playing the same sport. What the fuck was he going to do if he did get you up here, away from civilisation where it was just the two of you? God help him.

From a distance, you seemed sophisticated, witty, chaotic fun – all traits that had him staring at his ceiling, soundlessly wondering when he would see you again. Soon, he hoped.

“Six tequila shots, Jen! We’re celebrating!” You yelled over the loud EDM music blasting through the club, the smell of testosterone and Acqua di gio aftershave mixing in the already thick, humid air.

“Of course, girl! What are we celebrating?” The bartender asked smiling from ear to ear. Jen, who by day was a barista at your local café, had become one of your closest friends in the city and was always cheering you on from the sidelines while serving you the best coffee in London.

“I quit my soul sucking job and told Patrick to shove it up his arse!” You shouted, waving your arms in the air along with your best friend who had insisted on helping commemorate this magnificent occasion, “I finally bit the bullet and did it, Jen and I feel bloody amazing!”

Jen leaned over and grasped your forearms, “Super proud of you, sis. ‘Bout fucking time you did something for yourself.”

You couldn’t argue with that. She was right.

It had been a week since your drunken run in with your neighbour. Humiliating was the first thought that came to mind, head thumping for days following. You hadn’t seen him since that ill-fated night and there was a small part of you that searched for him whenever you left for work, eyes quickly glancing across the street in case fate was working your favour and he was leaving too. Happenstance.

But you were never that lucky and the week had gone from bad to worse at work – your boss had finally lost the plot and you were done, once and for all. No amount of love for your craft was worth being berated by a self-righteous, egotistical arsehole. He’d pushed too far and you were out of there, rucksack haphazardly slung across your shoulders and a smile bigger than the moon on your face. You were free – until the reality of unemployment hit.

London was your home and it had been for the better part of a decade, working at different tattoo parlours, building a solid client list along the way until you’d reached the top and now, finally opting out of the cruel, unrelenting torture that was working under Patrick. Life was too short and your thirties were well underway, that biological clock forever ticking while everyone else seemed to be settling down, buying that dream house with a picket fence. That wasn’t for me, you told yourself so you could sleep at night.

So much of your life was based around career goals and aspiration, so many of those things had been ticked off before your thirtieth birthday last year and it left you wondering where the time had gone. Your twenties had whizzed by faster than your teens and it made that hole in your heart, where you presumed personal goals were supposed to live feel emptier than ever. Especially when those friends you’d stayed in touch with since high school were having their second or third baby, getting married, some for the second time. Where had the time gone?

It was passing you by and even though you gave yourself that pep talk late at night, looking up at your ceiling, questioning whether you would ever find someone to share it all with or if you even wanted that, time continued to tick. Fleeting memories, first dates, and awkward one-night stands – they were all you really had in terms of a love life. The term ‘love life’ was probably over reaching, because if it was a life, it was fucking tragic.

But it was all you had. That and a kickass group of friends who had your back, setting you up with their husbands cute friends, until they turned out to be misogynistic arseholes, or worse – secretly married. In a population of 9 million, you would think there would be a plethora of kind, sweet men but you couldn’t seem to find one. And that led to the one question that did keep you up at night – maybe it’s me. Am I the problem?

“Babe, you’ve got it all. A gorgeous apartment, a beautiful puppy, you’re going to accomplish the dream you’ve had since you were 14 years old! There’s so much going for you that having a guy means nothing. And fuck men, honestly. I’m so glad we’re out here doing this because I’m one wet towel away from killing Jamie,” You couldn’t help but laugh at your best friend, Winnie.

“I’m serious!” And she was, the deadpan expression never faltering as you put your hands up for protection.

“I got you, I’m with you,” You defended, “I guess I just see everything else falling into place, even though my career path is a little murky right now but I’ll work that out… Love is the one thing I can’t figure out. What am I doing wrong?”

Winnie laughed and gripped your shoulder endearingly, “You are hot, like super hot. They are the issue, not you! Okay…” She trailed off and pushed another shot in your direction.

“Tonight’s the night. We are going to find you a cutie, someone fun. And it might just be a meaningless fuck like the rest but let’s deal with that in the morning,” She hiccupped, already tipsy from the shots.

You smiled and sweetly nodded, knowing that her intentions were coming from a good place but stomaching empty promises had become a regular occurrence. You’d lost count of how many guys she’d set you up with or found through dating apps when you went to the bathroom and came back to find her scrolling through, squealing every time a guy she liked matched with you. It all just felt pointless – and a little desperate. Okay, maybe a lot desperate but you appreciated her trying to help.

So you let her pull you through the crowd to where the rest of your friends were standing, all pouring shots down their throats and getting “wild”. A group of women in their early 30s, most with a kid or two or hadn’t been out to a club in months, some years. It was carnage but you appreciated them all coming out to celebrate you. It gave you something to hold onto even when the rest of your personal life was slowly sinking like the titanic, no safety boat in sight.

Until – you heard your name, loud and clearly from behind your friend. The voice was familiar, oddly so, like you’d imagined it somewhere along the lines and it wasn’t real. Lando’s face bobbed up from the side, smile adorning his sweet face, enthusiastic wave quickly followed and you returned it, the same smile too. His cheeks were flushed and eyes slightly bloodshot. You could tell he was tipsy.

“Hello stranger,” You greeted shyly, not knowing how to approach and apologise for the shameful display you showed last weekend. But before you could even get another word out, you were being pulled into a hug, a loose, one arm kind of hug but a hug nonetheless.

He was warm, perspiring ever so slightly as your cheek brushed across his damp neck, no doubt caused by the high humidity inside the club that was pumping. The lingering scent of Dior Sauvage mixed with a woody scented shampoo were notes you picked up on as your arm slipped around his waist, gently giving him a squeeze before you pulled away, half-heartedly.

“Glad you’re alive and well!” Lando shouted over the loud music, still beaming as you leaned in a little closer, “I am so, so, so sorry about last weekend… I’m not usually – well, no sometimes I get a little too heavy handed with my good friends gin and tonic but that was next level and not at all who I am typically… Just yeah, super embarrassed!”

Lando nodded empathetically, “Don’t be. You were, and I mean this is the nicest possible way; you were the most entertaining part of my week… So you’re drinking gin and tonic, yeah?” He asked, glancing down at your empty hands before turning to the bartender and hailing him over.

“Just a gin and tonic and a corona, please mate.”

Lando swivelled back your way, still grinning while he took in your surroundings, “Girls night out?” He asked, curious as to why you were out with your friends.

“Sort of,” You began to explain before graciously accepting the drink he had bought you, “I quit my crappy job and they insisted we celebrate – but between you and me, I think they’re just bored of their husbands and kids." Your whisper made him laugh, that serotonin boost lighting up your senses again, just like it did a week ago when you first met. Sparks flying.

“Makes sense," He nodded with a furrowed brow, looking serious before cracking a smile, "Congrats on quitting your shitty job, I’m sure your boyfriends here celebrating with you too, no?”

There was a glint in his eyes as they scanned the room and landed back on yours, eagerly awaiting your response. You didn’t give it to him straight away, letting him stew on that question for a couple seconds longer than humane, until he took a sip of his beer, finding something to occupy himself with while you left him there hanging.

“No boyfriend.”

Your answer was simple – to the point and Lando appreciated that as he let go of the deep sigh rattling around in his chest. Was he being nosy? Absolutely but he was also hedging his bets, knowing that if you did have a boyfriend and you looked like that then he wouldn’t have his two front teeth by the end of the night. He had to know for certain before he bought you another drink. And definitely before he asked you to dance.

There was barely a millimetre, if that between your body and his, only losing the warmth of his embrace when he twirled you around, giggling like teenagers who were superficially falling in love for the night. Your friend was the one who broke up the party, insisting that she said goodbye to you before leaving to relieve her babysitter.

“Everyone’s gone home and I think I’m gonna head off too,” She yelled before tugging you closer, “But have fun with your boy toy,” She whispered into your ear, her smirk telling as you pulled back and rolled your eyes.

“Stop it. It’s just a bit of harmless dancing,” You scoffed in return, but she’d known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper, practically experiencing all of life’s milestones in tandem – until she found her prince charming and had his babies, a betrayal like no other.

“Sure, sure,” She winked because she knew that there was a 90% chance that you wouldn’t make it home, or if you did, it was only because your place was closer than his, “Call me tomorrow morning when you get home.”

The cheek, you thought as she strutted off into the crowd, disappearing into the stormy London night. You were at a crossroads, standing in the middle of the club and searching the room for Lando. He’d given you space to speak with your friend, a subtle sign of respect while he rushed to the bathroom and splashed his face with water.

Get it together, he muttered, cursing his rosy cheeks and uncooperative curls, the bundle of ringlets gathering like a nest on the crown of his head. He didn’t want to look shabby in front of you, especially since he'd identified your expensive perfume and had noticed the red-bottomed heels adorning your feet. You were the uptown girl they were talking about in that song, the tune now on the tip of his tongue as he pushed through the bathroom door, whistling along to the silent song stuck in his head.

And there you were, lost in the crowd, searching. He wondered for a second whether you were looking for him or if your friend had just come over to tell you something and she was coming back. But when your eyes met, you smiled big. Grinning and relieved to see those bright blue eyes drawing you in from across the room, a familiar face to ease your nerves. You glided to him like a magnet magically pulling you both to the halfway point, hands immediately reaching, needy to feel the others touch again.

Winnie’s words rang in your ears, so sure of herself and what she knew about you. Your bad habits. You wanted to spite her and bid Lando farewell but when you watched his tongue swiping across his pouty bottom lip and that boyish smile tug at the corners of his mouth again, you were done for – hook, line and sinker.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

click here for part two

a/n – i really hope you enjoyed the 7k word introduction *facepalm* to this mini-series – it got away from me a little bit but i'm excited about exploring long form writing on tumblr so follow for updates and lmk what you think so far!

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #lando norris one shot #formula 1 one shot #f1 #f1 x reader #monzamashmasterlist #what could've been fic #monzamash #lando norris x you

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writing-house-of-m · 1 year ago

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just like You.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Endgame canon

Word count: 431

Summary: You tell Natasha about your daughter

A/N: I don't really know how I feel about this, either way I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think

She reminds me of you every day

When the morning light bounces off her red hair

How she breaks eye contact as she laughs

The lines between her brows when she is concentrating

I wish you got to see the young woman that she is turning into

I tell her about you to make sure she never forgets

You look down

Moving around some dry twigs with your foot then back at the marble stone

I tell her about how I see you

In the final hours of the day when the sunlight seeps through the trees

Soft breezes through the long grass in the field out back during our late afternoon walks

The old family photos Yelena gave us on one of her visits

She wants to dye her hair blue now

Tears well in your eyes

You clear your throat to get rid of the lump forming

I still hate the sacrifice you had to make to bring us back

Five years

Alone

I can't imagine how you must have felt without us

I know I wouldn't have survived

But you did

You were always the stronger one out of the two of us

Then you paid the ultimate price

For us

For all of us

I will always love you

We will always love you

You spin the ring you still wear on your finger

It is the only thing you have left of her from something that feels like it was a lifetime ago

Sometimes I don't know what to do with it all - This love that was meant for you

It overwhelms me when I read the letters you left for us

The letters that serve as an extra reminder you were real

That your love for us was real

The biggest reminder of our love is our daughter

You visit this empty grave at least once a week

'Daughter, Sister, Avenger'

The only word missing is 'Mother'

No one knew of your daughter

It is safer this way

God, she reminds me of you everyday

You scoff at the recent memories you have of her as well as the ones with your wife

A tear escapes your eye but you wipe it away just as quick as it falls

You recount the images playing in your head with a smile on your face

Midnight cravings for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches

Her sense of humor

The green in her eyes that shine when they fill with mischief

And that stupid smirk

Your stupid smirk

You would have loved her, Natasha

She is just like You.

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xxshewritesinblacknwhitexx · 2 years ago

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Off The Market

Chris Evans x Black Wife!Reader

WARNINGS: tipsy!Chris, mild fluff, flirting, nosy tv interviewer, very mild nudity

AUTHOR’s NOTE: An oldie from my old page, edited and brought over here. Also regardless if my fic has no smut or dark mentions, all of my work is still 18+. This isn’t apart of the Chris x Wife series I was thinking about. Just a stand alone one-shot.

BETA’d: @titty-teetee

Chris Evans was standing dressed in his best on the red carpet for the premiere of the final Avengers movie, rightfully titled, Avengers: Endgame. Tonight was going to be a little bittersweet, as this would be the last time that all six original members of the Avengers would walk the red carpet together. It was finally time for the torch, or in his case, Captain’s shield, to be passed on.

This was also Chris’ very first red carpet appearance since the two of you tied the knot a little over a couple of months ago.

Of course news had been buzzing for weeks about your very secret nuptials. People were questioning if it happened or if it didn’t happen. Paparazzi scrambled for days outside of your home in Los Angeles, trying to get a small glimpse to see if the two of you were wearing your rings. But they’d come up with nothing. Especially, since the two of you had fully relocated to his hometown in Boston.

But your wedding definitely happened, and it was definitely a secret. Your wedding was so secret, in fact, that your small group of guests, who thought they were arriving to celebrate your engagement, got the surprise of a lifetime when you showed up in your beautiful wedding dress, while you and Chris exchanged vows moments later.

Both yourself and Chris, much like most of your relationship and engagement, wanted to keep this to yourselves for a while. You just wanted to enjoy being husband and wife before the press found out and started hounding you with future plans of starting a family, which of course, you and Chris were definitely excited to be practicing. Especially the horndog that was your husband.

The two of you had a date set for when you were going to announce that you had gotten hitched, but that didn’t stop the vultures from their prying.

Chris, who smiled coyly at the flashing photographers, gave a small wave and a curt nod. He was nervous, and his anxiety was on a high level, which he tried to calm with shots of whiskey earlier with his co-stars, Jeremy Renner and Mark Ruffalo. But with every scream of the paparazzi and the surrounding fans, his nerves seemed to grow a little bit more intense.

Chris continued to make his way down the carpet, saying his hellos to his other fellow cast mates, while sharing jokes with his buddies, Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan. Luckily, most of the interviewers kept things professional in their questioning, only asking about the film and his future projects. Even asking him to give shout outs to other countries.

His last stop on the interview trail was with Nancy O’Dell from Entertainment Tonight. Now Chris has known Nancy for quite some time, as she’s interviewed him plenty of times in the past, but he also knew she was never too shy to get personal with him. And that scared the living hell out of him.

“Here we have Chris Evans, ladies and gentlemen,” the beautiful, older blonde celebrity anchor announced as Chris stepped up to his spot next to her. They quickly exchanged a casual hug. “How are you feeling tonight? You look amazing.”

Chris cleared his throat, nervously running a hand across his tie. “Thank you. I’m feeling pretty good. How are you?”

“I’m great, thank you.” She smiled, leaning into him. She was also a little too clingy with him at times, you’ve clearly noticed. But that was usually when you weren’t on his arm. Like tonight. “So, Chris, this is it. Final Avengers movie for you all. How did it feel to put that Cap suit back on for the last time?”

“A little tight.” Chris joked, causing Nancy to giggle softly. “No, it was amazing. Being on set with some of my best friends made for such a fun, great experience— a little bittersweet though since it’s the last time a lot of us will be in the same room with each other. But I feel we all did it justice. 10 years is a long time to be doing this, and I’m very proud of what we’ve accomplished in the end.”

“I can definitely see lots of emotions running high with everyone. Especially on this night.” Nancy stated, and Chris nodded in agreement. “Aside from the movie premiere here tonight, I really have to ask: Where is your better half? I’m surprised she’s not here with you tonight.”

Chris chuckled softly, again, running a hand down his tie. “You know, she really wanted to be here, but her schedule is just as crazy as mine. If not more, but, she’s definitely here with me in Spirit.” He gave the nosy news anchor a smile.

Well, wherever she is, we are sending her the best.” Nancy replied, reaching out to throw an arm around Chris’ shoulder. “And speaking of your better half, I feel like there are just a few things we need to get cleared up. Maybe some of those rumors you want to address?”

This time Chris let out a nervous chuckle. He knew exactly where this was headed. “That depends on what rumors you are referring to?”

“Well,” Nancy paused for dramatic effect, “is Chris Evans officially off the market?”

Yep, she went there.

“Oh,” Chris immediately jerked his head back, as he finally started to feel that whiskey warming his system. “Oh,” he repeated over and over.

“I mean, is it true?” Nancy questioned him, desperately trying to see if she could get a glimpse of the wedding ring on his left hand. Of course, it wasn’t there. You made sure of that.

“We’re not doing that.” Chris shook a finger at her, laughing.

“Why not? I know everybody at home,” Nancy pointed to the camera, “would love to know if our favorite superhero, here, finally got his happy ending.”

“Sh,” Chris shushed her, leaning to stroke her microphone. “Sh, sh, shhh.”

“He’s petting my mic.” Nancy, again, turned to the camera, giggling. She knew that she wasn’t going to get her way tonight. “So, is this your way of leaving this one alone?”

Chris looked back up at her and gave a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, you will know when it happens. But we both are happy where we are right now.”

“And that’s all that matters?” Nancy questioned, and Chris just nodded, stuffing his hands back in the pocket of his pants. “Well, we appreciate the honesty, Chris. Good luck tonight.”

“Thank you.” Chris smiled, giving her one last hug and walking away.

The moment Chris was out of the way of the paparazzi, he immediately pulled out his phone from his pocket and sent you a quick text.

dodged that bullet

His phone buzzed only seconds later with your response.

Wifey: I’m guessing you got asked & it was by Nancy wasn’t it?

yep & yep

Wifey: well it’s a good thing I have your ring with me

Chris smiled to himself, adamantly typing on his phone.

Yeah I’m going to need that back

Wifey: you’ll get it back soon

you’ll just have to take it off of me first

Chris’ phone buzzed a third time. But it wasn’t a typed response like he’d been expecting. It was a picture of you. You were currently wearing his platinum, engraved wedding ring on a necklace, secured safely around your neck, dressed in a white lace push-up bra. The barely there material stood out amongst the softness of your gorgeous brown skin.

Chris sucked in a deep breath, staring down at the image in front of him. Goddamn it, he missed the fuck out of you. He quickly started typing again.

Mrs. Evans you’re driving me fucking crazy here

Wifey: well Mr. Evans my husband just abandoned me

what’s a girl to do by herself in this big, empty house

Before Chris started typing again, the three dotted bubble —as if you were still typing— appeared on his screen. Within seconds, another photo of you showed up. This time it was a matching lace thong you were wearing.

Fuck this premiere

I’m getting on a plane

And coming home right now.

Wifey: I’ll be waiting

Chris sighed heavily, stuffing the phone back in his pocket, and immediately tried to find the nearest exit. He needed to get home to you. And he needed to get home now.

#chris evans x black!reader #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader

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edwinspaynes · 2 months ago

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This is a weird post, but I really want to make it. And, no, I don't know why I'm posting it since I'm not even into NHIE anymore. I just feel like I have to for some reason. Maybe as a study of my own growth.

When I watched Never Have I Ever for the first time, I was all about Ben. I liked Ben over everything else; I ADORED Ben. Those were some of the worst years of my life, and I think my attachment to him was part of a really weird breakdown. And I think that was reflective of my mental state.

Because, this is my point:

Paxton is objectively both a better character and a better love interest. As I matured, this became obvious to me.

This is because I've realized that kindness and compassion trump intelligence every time.

Gif by @miithridatism

That's not to say Paxton isn't smart - I think he has a ton of emotional intelligence and just needed a push to get in gear. But my view when the show was airing was very much "the nice one" vs "the smart one who pushes Devi." But Paxton pushed Devi, too. He pushes her to make the right choices, do the kind thing, make amends with those she (albeit unintentionally) wrongs. He boosts her confidence by telling her she looks pretty in a sari and calling her his smokeshow girlfriend.

Gif by @neverhaveievergiffed

Meanwhile the endgame love interest is telling her she looks like a shot-putter.

Lots of people online seem to act like Benvi is the more mature ship. I have come to realize that it's the exact opposite.

Devi and Paxton communicate. They grew together when they were in a relationship. They had the potential to grow together for a lifetime.

Gifs by @emmanelson

Devi and Paxton are kindness and emotional maturity.

Sure, they're opposites in a lot of ways. But they're complements. And that's what matters.

#nhie #never have i ever #daxton #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #anti benvi

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spookyspecterino · 1 year ago

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Gentle Promises in the Dark

Sam Coe x GN! Starborn! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions.

Spoilers for Starfield's endgame content.

No warnings. There's just a pinch of anxiety, but it's all fluff and happiness.

Sam asks what your future plans are. Will you leave him in search for another universe or stay behind?

This was a lovely request! I'll be closing them for now, just because I have more to catch up on and I've been getting distracted. Thank you to everyone for supporting my work! This fandom has been so welcoming and lovely to interact with!

Sam lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It must be late by now. But he isn’t tired, his mind turns over and over with endless thoughts.

A faint ray of light draws his attention, it’s the bedroom door opening just a crack for you to slip in. It shuts right behind you, returning the room to its inky blackness. His thoughts halt with the sound of your quiet footsteps.

Sam feels you slide under the covers, your feet are cold, as usual, and you snuggle up to him. Instinctually he’s moving to let you lay on his bare chest—your favorite spot.

“Hey.” You whisper, sounding content at last.

“Darlin’.” He drawls back in greeting, wrapping his arms around you.

“You doing ok? You’re not usually awake this late.”

“Just thinking.”

“Hm. About what?”

“Just about…” he sighs. “Everything.”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Yeah…”

An uncomfortable silence lays in the air. Instead of passing, it lingers until Sam sighs again.

He decides to ask the question that’s been on his mind for a few weeks now.

“Are you going to go back into the Unity?”

Are you going to leave me behind?

You don’t answer at first. Memories surface of all the other times you traveled through the Unity. And all the times you came out of the other side. Feeling empty.

Out of fear or nervousness, you may have brushed the question off any other time, but now you answer honestly. “I don’t know. A long time ago I thought it was my purpose. Finding artifacts, fighting the Hunter, passing through the Unity… but…”

Sam hesitates, waiting on the edge, he wants you to continue. But he’s afraid of your answer.

“This universe…it’s different than the others.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked this, but how many universes have you been to? How many years have you been doing this?”

You chuckle. It sounds pained. “Too many to count and too many for one lifetime.”

Sam tries to laugh, to alleviate the anxiety he feels bundled up in his chest. “You tellin’ me you’re older than I am?”

Groaning playfully, you nuzzle into his neck. Your smile against his skin makes his heavy heart a little lighter.

“Let’s not talk about that part.”

He pulls you closer. “Ok deal.”

The silence lingers again.

“Are you looking for an opinion?” he asks, his voice very quiet.

“From you? Always.”

“I think you should stay here. With us—with me. We could…” He clears his throat, swallowing the words his heart wanted him to say.

“We could what?”

After a few beats of his pounding heart, “It’s gonna sound sappy, but…we just keep going. Grow older together. Watch Cora grow up. Live out our golden years exploring the stars.”

“You really want that?”

“Hell yes I do.”

You fall silent. Sam stares into the dark. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a deep abyss with no end. He wished you’d just spit it out, give him the bad news so he could start preparing himself to lose you—

“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”

Sam’s whole body relaxes with a long-winded exhale. Had he been holding his breath?

“Did you think I was going to say no?”

“Honestly…I was kind of expecting you to. How could I compare to the life—or lifetimes—you’ve lived traveling to new universes? How could I compare to the power you gain every time you cross over?” He looks away, shrugging. “There’s an infinite number of me out there. You could do this again in the next universe.”

You pull back, propping yourself up to look at him in the dark. He can see the faint outline of your face. You’re frowning.

“There’s only one of you that’s like you. I have never met another that comes close.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

You take his chin in your hand, forcing him to face you and preventing him from turning away. “Out of infinite universes, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.”

“What about the one in your original universe?”

“If I loved him, I wouldn’t have left.”

“Huh…so that means…?”

“Yes.” He can see you smile. “I choose you. I’m staying.”

He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Well, I guess first things first.”

You lean your forehead to his, he can hear the smile in your voice. “And what would that be?”

“I’m gonna marry you.”

#Sam Coe x reader #Sam Coe #Starfield #gn reader

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locke-esque-monster · 7 months ago

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I came into season 2 of Loki knowing how it ended. This is not something that endears me to fiction, because knowing how it ends is for a re-watch. If I come in knowing the ending, it only results in me consciously or subconsciously looking at the show to see how the puzzle comes together rather than enjoying the ride.

I also came into Loki season 2 pleasantly enjoying how they approached time travel in season 1 (ex. far better than say Endgame), but not terribly impressed, because I've seen it done better.

I enjoy the characters, and I like time travel, and I wanted to enjoy the ride despite all this.

But the last 2 episodes of Loki truly took me aback. The discussions of science vs fiction in episode 5 were a pleasant surprise. But the last episode...

I can't say I've encountered a time loop of the character's own making before in visual media (not to say it doesn't exist, but that I can't think of an instance I've seen on screen). I've seen a character driven mad in a time loop they're stuck in, but not watched one they chose. And Tom Hiddleston played it pitch perfect. He has all the desperation, the efficiency, the exhaustion, and yet the perseverance to fix this problem - but not quite the madness. Because he understands why he's there and what he needs to do instead of being trapped there by some other force. Listen to how Loki encourages Victor down the walk, with all the right words but none of the inflection- he's done this too many times before. But listen to him talk to Victor on his way back - the encouragement is genuine because this is the first time it's happened. In these scenes alone you see what Loki's been through during all the times we haven't seen him go back. But it also on a small scale encapsulates the futility and hope that's a part of every time travel story.

Putting Loki through hundreds of years to fix this problem is so understated, but the perfect way to show that he didn't come to his sacrifice at the end without doing literally everything he can to fix the problem. And making Loki a long-living demi-god actually improves the circumstances, because he has a perspective that few would on time. And it shows his growth on how much time he's willing to spend on humans he's known so little compared to his lifetime (prior to the aforementioned centuries of trying to fix this issue).

Making a way to get out of the time loop the final ethical problem of a 2 season show, and 12 years of Hiddleston (impeccably) playing a character stuck in his ways is inspired. It's an episode that was far more focused on Loki himself in a way I hadn't even noticed the show wasn't doing until now. And the choice to make the god of chaos the enabling of a multiverse allowing chaos and free will to exist forevermore is perfect.

While I can't say this show or finale was perfect, it was firing on far more cylinders than I anticipated. And I was much more moved by the ending than I ever expected to be.

#loki season 2 #loki season two #loki series #loki 2x6 #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston #time travel #time fuckery #loki tom hiddleston #loki mcu #loki marvel #mcu loki #loki spoilers

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axkirak · 9 months ago

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I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Pairings: Astarion x Original Female Character(Named Tav) [From Baldur's Gate 3]

Tag/Warnings : Canon Compliant, Post-Endgame, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tragedy, Mentions of past abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis : Astarion returned to the city of Baldur's Gate, following the final request of his beloved, who asked him to bury her next to his grave. As dawn approached, Astarion held the lifeless body of his love, reminiscing about the countless memories they shared together.

A/N : The story started when I came across this tweet: 'do you guys think your tavs/durges stayed with their love interest long term or not?'

I got the idea to tell the story of my Tav and her love interest, Astarion. What would happen to them after the end of Baldur's Gate 3? I've been thinking about it a lot and it's quite heartbreaking.

From these little headcanons, I developed this one-shot about them.

My Tav is a human bard with a noble background. So, I imagined her as the daughter of a noble Baldurian,which contrasts with Astarion's background. Their initial relationship was more of a adversaries before blossoming into love in the end.

Listening to the song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie gave me a lot of inspiration for this couple. (At first, I wanted to use the song "Take Me To Church" as the title, but it's too popular. I thought a song that many might not have heard of would be fitting for this tale.)

Read in Ao3 : here

"Jones," Astarion whispered, calling his beloved, but she didn't respond.

Her eyes closed tightly, her body growing colder with each passing moment.

Astarion pulled her closer, hoping his slight warmth might warm her. He knew it wouldn't help, and she would never wake to look into his eyes again.

Human lives are fleeting, from young maiden to old crone, from crone to spirit.

Her entire life was a blink of an eye compared to his cursed immortality.

Once, Astarion had both disdain and curiosity about this human. A race so fragile and feeble, never wielding a sword to harm anyone, raised in a noble family, spending half a comfortable lifetime in a grand mansion in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by obedient servants bowing to her every whim.

He couldn't make sense of her. For a vampire like him who had struggled to survive amidst enemies and a cruel world for centuries. He was nothing but a bloodthirsty creature, a servant under a master's foot who got treated worse than a common slave, struggling to sustain his life with the taste of filthy rat blood that almost made him vomit.

Astarion envies her for an ideal life in the gilded cage he could only dream of. envied the short-lived human existence. While he had no right to die willingly if his evil master didn't want him to die,

And he wondered why she had fled her high-life in the capital city of Baldur’s Gate to suffer with them. why someone so inept at fighting would risk her life battling monsters, from goblins and evil undead to even gods, to aid them and help everyone unrelated to her.

He thought Jones was foolish, and he didn't like fools.

Ironically, eighty years later, he found himself shedding tears at her death.

"I wish to be buried beside your grave, Astarion." That was one of her last wishes before she breathed her last in his embrace. This led Astarion to make the singular decision to step out of the Underdark and return to Baldur’s Gate, the city where he once hated heavily, to fulfill the last wish of his beloved.

The black sky began to turn deep blue. Astarion knew he should hurry to bury Jones properly before the sunrise. As he contemplated, his eyes caught withered flowers left on the ground near his own grave marker. For a brief moment, Astarion reminisced about the memories he shared with her. He had once brought Jones to his own grave, recounting his life before turning into a vampire. and then visualizing a future where he wished to live with her,as his past had died over two centuries ago and she was the only future he desired.

Astarion remembered his overwhelming fear that Jones might refuse him. She was the highborn daughter of Baldur’s Gate's noble families. Why would she choose to endure the hardships of life with an elf vampire like him?

Yet his fear vanished instantly when he saw the soft smile on her smooth face. She placed flowers on his grave and embraced him, accepting his love wholeheartedly.

That night was the night he died and was reborn in her embrace. Not as the enslaved Astarion, not as the villainous Astarion, but as Astarion the redeemed, never to be alone again because he would have her by his side forever.

But the words 'forever' don't really exist, especially for humans and vampires.

Still, Astarion couldn't help but secretly hope.

Sometimes, darker thoughts overshadow his mind, eclipsing all the goodness he has left. Astarion often secretly pondered that if he chose the path of power, performed an ancient ritual to sacrifice seven thousand souls to a devil, and transformed himself into a vampire ascendant, he would have enough strength to walk in the sunlight with her and enough power to turn her into a vampire like him. Then they could live together forever without the fear of death taking her away.

But it was Jones who restrained him then. She persuaded Astarion to see that these powers offered him nothing but the dark legacy of the Vampire Master, an inheritance of wickedness that would never end. She told him he could be better than Cazador, his former master, and he didn't have to continue killing others to sustain his existence anymore.

Astarion trusted her, though he couldn't deny feeling deeply regretful. And Jones sensed his feelings. She gently grasped his cold hands and earnestly vowed, "Astarion, I will find a way to cure you of vampirism, so you can walk under the sunlight with me again."

And she kept her promise. After successfully helping Baldur’s Gate city fend off the threats of the Mind Flayers and Nether Brain, she and him began a new adventure together. They journeyed across the entire continent of Faerûn, from Waterdeep to Athkatla, Neverwinter, Luskan, and even the mysterious realm of Feywild, all in pursuit of finding a cure for him.

Those times were special, building strong bonds and beautiful memories between them. They laughed together, danced together, fought together, and held each other close under vast skies and twinkling stars as witnesses.

Until Jones began to age and couldn’t continue the journey. That was when they both realized how little time they had left. And no matter how much time and effort they put in, there was no way to find a cure for him anymore.

Facing the harsh reality was incredibly difficult. Astarion had to hide his deep sorrow while he tried to persuade her to stop the adventure and live out her remaining days in the Underdark, the dark and sunless realm, the only place where he could be with her.

He knew what the near future held. Nothing would hurt as much as watching his beloved age continuously, waiting for her time to pass while he remained unchanged.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you as I promised. Please forgive me," she said during their time in Underdark. Her bright blue eyes, the very eyes he fell in love with, overflowed with guilt.

Astarion wanted her to know that he could never be angry or hate her.

The shovel still lay untouched on the ground, with no sign of being used anytime soon. While the vampire elf sat silently in front of his own grave marker, letting old memories flow through his mind once more,. Both his arms cradled her lifeless body as if she were still alive.

"My beloved, please continue to live on for me. I wish to see you happy for a long time," another of her last requests echoed in his mind. The gentle touch of her frail hand on his cheek still lingers in his heart to this day.

"Jones." Astarion whispers her name again. Tears, which he had not shed for a long time, now streamed down his pale face. "I can't do it," he murmured to her lifeless body. "How can I find happiness without you?"

A golden beam slowly crept in, chasing away the darkness from the vast sky. Yet Astarion's body remained unmoving, just like the eyes of the vampire, which refused to leave the withered face of his beloved for a second. He memorized every detail of her, keeping it in his memory as best as he could. She still looked as beautiful as ever in his eyes—always and forever.

"I wish the next life was real. I hope we'll meet again, live together, and build a family," Astarion whispered softly, planting a tender kiss on the edge of her lips. "Wait for me, darling. I'll follow you soon, no matter where you choose to go."

Finally, he tore his gaze away from her, looking up at the sky once more. For the first time in centuries, he had the chance to gaze at the nearing dawn with full eyes. As the sun peeked over the horizon, followed by the warm rays starting to seep through his skin, cracks began to form, turning his skin into tiny specks of dust.

Before his final consciousness faded, Astarion's thoughts remained vivid.

This was the most beautiful dawn he had ever witnessed.

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kandisheek · 12 days ago

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FIC REC WEEK 50 – ENDGAME

MASTERPOST

Here are all the fics I recommended this week. For the more thorough recs, see the posts by clicking the corresponding numbers:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Where Our Restless Monsters Sleep by Mizzy (1)

And Beyond by AlchemyAlice (2)

From Where We Began by orphan_account (2)

Avengers No More (In Infinity) by navaan (2)

front row seats: Series by Annie D (scaramouche) (3)

Ship to Shore by msermesth (4)

Every True Thing by dirigibleplumbing (5)

like-like by nanasekei (5)

Zero to One by magicasen (5)

and so begins by romanoff (5)

Rewriting The Universe by itsallAvengers (5)

JenTheSweetie (6)

4 out of 5 dentists recommend Another Place special dispensation And Time Can Do So Much dress code

we survived the great war by meidui (7)

You make me completely alive by erde (orphan_account) (7)

would've loved you for a lifetime (leave it all behind) by tunastork (mariexa) (7)

The only way is forwards by mvltihart (7)

to love a wild thing is by Tailish (7)

#marvel #fanfic #a year in fanfic recs #fic rec #fanfic rec #stony #ficrec #masterpost

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blissfulstarsfics · 27 days ago

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Black and White Chapter 17

Read on AO3

Chapter Rating: M

Pairing: A!A x F Tav

“You worry far too much, darling.” “And you don’t worry enough.”

Summary: Astarion's newest spawn awakens and is ordered to spill the secrets of his adversaries. He behaves coldly towards an emotional Tav, who is uncertain of the immediate future. When he dashes off to continue groundwork for his endgame, she bonds with Shadowheart.

Astarion descended into the burial pits deep below the dungeon. The unknown mage will soon be clawing out of the grave, much like he did centuries ago. Just like him, the first thing this elf would see is his new master.

Standing at the foot of the burial site, he could already hear the fledgling below stir in desperation. Thinking back, how long did it take him to escape his grave? Minutes? Hours? However long it was, he remembered it feeling like a lifetime. A pity this new spawn was a wizard and not a warrior. This could take a while.

About half an hour went by with little progress. Usually, he has the bodies buried in shallow holes. The less time they spend underground, the more time they have to serve him. An exception was made for this vile cretin. Every second of his unlife would be spent in abject horror. It was only fitting. No one threatens the vampire ascendant and gets away with it.

Shadows formed in the pit. Light sources weren’t needed in this place. The only entities who entered here were already well adjusted to the dark. Astarion turned to see the spiral staircase lit up. He grit his teeth, hearing the shuffling of satin skirts and clicking of well made heels.

“You shouldn’t be here!” He darted to the stairs that Elia was carefully descending, one hand on a lantern, the other on her skirts. “This is no place for a woman of your standing. Gods, what if you fell?” Astarion ripped the lantern from her hand, forcing her to take his.

“Then, I would get back up. Isn’t that what most do?” Safe at the bottom, she jerked her hand away, “I have the right to question this bastard too.”

“You couldn’t wait until I had him brought to a more respectable area of the palace?”

“No.” Elia turned on heel and sat on a wooden crate used to hold unused shovels, arms folded. She wasn’t going to budge. Legs crossed, she swung her foot impatiently. Did she have any idea how dangerous a hungry newborn spawn could be? Astarion clicked his tongue. The fledgling was about halfway to the surface now.

“Hurry the hells up, dammit!” He commanded. Under his compulsion, the spawn dug faster. I should have thought to do that earlier, he thought. Pale fingers emerged from the soil, then arms, a torso. He coughed raggedly, spitting up congealed blood all over himself. Ah, memories. Astarion yanked him out of the dirt, eyes burning like embers, “Kneel.”

The spawn had no choice but to obey. Elia pulled a quill, ink, and parchment from her satchel, “I want the names and descriptions of his associates. All of them.” Astarion kicked the man in the ribs.

“You heard the lady. Names and descriptions. Now!” The spawn crawled to Elia, reaching out for the quill and parchment. Astarion threw him to the ground, pinning him with his boot, “Did I say you could touch the mistress?” A gurgling cry flew out when the master dug his heel in deeper. Elia set the parchment on the ground, where he scribbled the desired information. She snatched the finished document, holding it aloft for both of them to read.

“Eleven names. Two of whom are in the custody of the Flaming Fists. Six elves, three half elves, two humans. It’s a start.”

“Yes,” he grabbed a fistful of the spawn’s fiery hair, wrenching his head up, “What are Carvalur’s plans?” The spawn’s eyes glowed harshly under the compulsion.

“Correllon has declared that the heretic, Tav, must die. He had chosen her to be the life partner of the Prophet, yet she has chosen to dirty herself in the bed of an undead. She has let her womb be defiled by a vampire’s progeny. Even if it takes centuries, she must be brought to justice. As for her unholy mate, he is to be exposed. Dragged into sunlight. The condemned will watch her lover fall from grace, her child burned alive, only then will she be granted death.”

Astarion had a mind to end the wretch then and there, but he refrained. Killing him now would do him no good. This one would be kept under lock and key until he saw fit to dispose of him.

“You will stay here, in this dank chamber, until I instruct you otherwise.” He threw the whimpering elf to the ground. Let this be a lesson to the other spawn. This was the fate of those who opposed him. Starvation, banishment, the begging for a death that would never come.

Elia folded the parchment carefully and placed it in her satchel. She tried masking how unnerved she was, but Astarion knew better. Her slender hands protectively rubbed her abdomen.

“Let’s get out of here.” Not waiting for a reply, she picked up her lantern, quickly ascending the stairs. The shadows danced along the walls as the light receded before filling the room in total darkness once more.

The kneeling elf sobbed into the dirt, lamenting his terrible fate. Astarion couldn’t help but laugh at such a sad, miserable sight.

“Where’s your bravery now, boy?” He kicked the back of the spawn’s head, “Not long ago you were cursing my name, threatening my wife.” The ascendant’s voice echoed diabolically off the gloomy brick walls, sending the man into hysterics. “How wretched you are,” he cleared his throat, “That being said, you sit here and think about what you’ve done.”

Astarion placed his arms behind his back, smugly raising his nose to the air. As he left the elf alone, his mouth twisted cruelly into a grin, relishing in the fading sounds of his sobs and moans.

Standing behind the hidden door, Astarion could hear the other spawn frantically talking amongst each other.

“He’s never treated one of us like that!”

“Calm down, Luro, it’s because that dumbass threatened the mistress and the lil one.”

“Did you hear those screams?”

“Yes, I did. We all did. Now stay on the master’s good side and you won’t receive similar treatment!”

Emerging from the pit’s entrance, the spawn abruptly stopped their chattering. They all viewed him with a new sense of dread. The rude maid anxiously stepped forward, chewing on her lip.

“M..master?”

“Yes, Gabriella?” The intonation was sickly sweet, too sweet by the spawn’s judgment.

“The mistress says she’ll be in the library.” The girl shrank as if expecting a beating or scolding. Astarion looked at the rest of the spawn. Eyes downcast, muscles tense, utterly afraid to breathe.

“My dear spawn,” he rested a sympathetic hand on Gabriella, “All of my dear spawn,” he outstretched his hand to the others, “I hate to see your hearts so full of uncertainty. Do not forget, I am a benevolent master to those who serve me faithfully.

Give me your unwavering loyalty and you shall be kept free to feed on thinking creatures. Keep our secrets and you shall live comfortably, you will be happy. You are to be my adored agents, faithfully exacting my will,” his face darkened, “Although, should you cross me, you will dine on vermin. Defy me and you shall starve alone in the wastes until the end of time. I will not kill you, but you will wish I would.”

The spawn stood at attention, “Yes, Master!”

“Thank you, Master!” Gabriella mewled, “for your kindness!” She bowed at her waist in an attempt at appeasement, her whole body trembling. In response, he patted her on the back. Gabriella may be rough around the edges, but she was learning. Walking passed them, he heard a collective sigh of relief. The little lesson worked.

Inside the library, Elia was curled under a cotton blanket by a crackling fire. The door clicked shut behind him, but she barely moved. He circled around the couch where she sat huddled, deep in thought.

“That bastard got to me,” she sneered, “When he threatened our child, he got to me.” Her focus never left the flickering flames. “We were wrong about their attack the other day. I wasn’t the target, you were. Thankfully, our combined efforts quelled them before any real damage could be done. In fact, I believe we managed to come out on top. Declarations of support have been pouring in since.”

Astarion couldn’t help but smirk. Let them come, he would make a meal of each of them. If they all came at once, why, he would have to have a grand feast with his spawn. Even this new one. How delightful it would be to have the newcomer drain one of his old friends.

“You worry far too much, darling.” “And you don’t worry enough,” she slammed her fist into the couch, “I was able to defend myself, but gods did it wear me down. We still have over a year before I give birth. If I were them, I would bide my time until I was unable to move well enough to fight. They are cowardly and zealous enough to strike a weakened foe.”

“Please, pet, stop talking as if I won’t be at your side. You insult me.”

“I would think you, of all people, would be able to sympathize with the disgust of feeling helpless,” she seethed.

Growing weary, Astarion threw his arms up in the air. This was exhausting. She was exhausting. Why in the hells wouldn’t she just listen to him? Without another word, he left for his study. A night alone might do her some good, he thought. There was business to be conducted elsewhere. He had no time for a moody wife.

The gradual shift from night to day sent gentle rays of sunlight into the lord’s office. He had worked through the night to keep his mind off his precious little wife’s oscillating emotions. Astarion had hoped she would enter her reverie once he’d left, but to no avail. Thinking about it, she had become increasingly nocturnal as of late. Perhaps the fetus was affecting her in unforeseen ways. Perhaps it was their bond.

No matter. He had other important affairs to tend to. Namely, his formal induction into the Knights of the Shield. There were secret organizations, then there were the Knights. They never met in the same place twice, and when they did it was rarely in numbers larger than six. Members were also instructed to reveal themselves to no more than three associates.

A rectangular box sat at the edge of his desk containing a long robe and a mask. Due to secrecy, everyone would be wearing garbs that obfuscated their appearance and voices. This would work well enough on other members, but Astarion had other abilities at his disposal.

Sight and sound may be muddied, but not smell. He had the advantage of being able to recognize every patriar in the Upper City by scent alone. Their identities would be known by him by day’s end.

Donning the robe and mask, he took out a small, magical teleportation device that would take him to the predetermined destination. In a flash, he was transported from the Crimson Palace into a dark, damp cavern.

Several others had already arrived, clustering against the moist, craggy interior. Mortal men would not have noticed them. Given his soon to be initiate status, he wagered that he wasn’t to know they were even there. Breathing in deep, amidst the mildewed and sour odors, he caught the essences of many a man and woman he knew.

Some were unfamiliar, probably those who traveled from other cities. He did his best to commit them to memory. Their identities would remain a mystery, for now. A perfect match could not be obtained until he met them in person, up close.

A cloud of black smoke roiled in front of him, giving way to a new cloaked figure. The mask they wore was more elaborate than the rest of the members. Theirs were simple ovals with slits for eyes, this new person’s bore infernal markings and horns. Not surprising. Though they were not infernal in nature, the unmistakable, sulphuric odor of the hells clung to them.

The figure’s robes swished when he brought his arms to the air, signaling the commencement of the ceremony. Astarion and two other initiates formed a line in front of the horned mask. Words were spoken, but the vampire was only half listening. The cool dampness of the cavern sticking to his body and clothes were far too distracting. Why did they pick such a foul meeting spot?

In his eyes, all this was beneath him. Initiations, rituals, the hierarchy, all of it. He would have loved nothing more than to enthrall the gathered assembly, but he knew better than to be hasty. Besides, that would be far too easy. Making them all submit willingly to him would be far more fun.

Up close, he recognized the masked man as the son of one of Baldur’s Gate’s elites: Amrik Vanthampur. It was long rumored that his family were devil worshippers, now he had confirmation.

Accusations came to a head when a band of conscripted Fists accused the family of funding the cult of the dead three to sow chaos in Baldur’s Gate. However, being of great influence, the Vanthampurs were able to sweep the debacle under the rug. Coincidentally, their accusers left the city under mysterious circumstances, never to be heard from again, and society went on as if the whole thing never happened.

The ceremony was dull and monotonous enough to put him to sleep. When all was said and done, everyone was dismissed. No fraternizing, no receiving of congratulations or welcomes, just an order for abrupt departure with the promise that agents would contact them shortly. Thank the gods, Astarion thought. The humidity was starting to make his hair frizz.

One more click of the provided magical device and he was back in his study. Disrobing, he let the now disgusting fabric fall onto the floor in a heap. The maids could deal with it. All he wanted right now was a hot bath and a well deserved nap.

~~~~~

Tav’s body was tired and sore from a poor night’s rest. After Astarion left her alone, she ended up crying herself to sleep. Yes, sleep. Elves preferred the stability and efficiency of reverie, but sleep was not entirely impossible for them. They only did so when ill, gravely wounded, or -in Tav’s case- badly fatigued.

Paranoia was setting in hard and fast. Every gust of wind, every bit of idle chatter, the clacking of shoes on the hardwood floor, the laughter of children, all of it made her reach for the dagger she now kept on her person.

What was her great vampire husband doing in the middle of the approaching dangers? Prancing around, business as usual. “You worry too much,” he says. The door to the library quietly swung open. Shadowheart entered, carrying a tray of raw and pickled vegetables, cheese, cured meats, crackers, and a pitcher of juice.

“Are you ever going to come out?” She asked, setting the tray in front of them. Tav stacked a slice of ham and smoked cheddar on a water biscuit. The cracker was stale and crumbled onto the rug. She had hoped the kitchen had the good sense to not have served these to the patriars at the reception.

“I may need to leave in order to fire some of the help. Why did they leave such old food in the pantry? Honestly,” she said, disdainfully.

“Come off it, your ladyship,” Shadowheart poured them cups of juice, “We both know you’re redirecting your anger. Keep it targeted at its rightful recipient.”

“Wherever he is,” she raised her glass, “Without a care in the world, while I grow rounder by the day. Soon I’ll be waddling around like the penguins in Alpuk.” A loud crash came from the next room. Unsheathing her dagger, Tav ran in to find a porcelain saucer on the floor. The butler knelt apologetically upon seeing his wrathful mistress, knife in hand.

“Clean it up before the master finds out,” she commanded, sheathing the blade. Breathing heavily, she returned to the library where she nearly collapsed on the couch. Shadowheart placed a hand on her forehead, giving her a quick examination.

“You can’t allow yourself to become ensnared like this. You’re letting Carvalur win,” she handed Tav her cup. The sweet liquid quenched her thirst, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. Ringing a bell, she sent a maid to fetch chamomile tea.

Next to a bookshelf, she saw a bottle of her favorite red. Shadowheart’s eyebrows raised as Tav stepped over to uncork the dark green glass.

“Uh, Tav? What are you doing?” The cleric sat up, hearing the rich burgundy splash into the tapered glass.

“I can’t get drunk, you’ll have to do it for me.” The bard practically slammed the bottle and cup in front of her friend. Shadowheart eyed the offering with a grin.

“Who am I to say no?” She took a long gulp of the velvety, full-bodied beverage, “I can see why you like this variety.” The maid had returned with the tea just in time for the ladies to hear Astarion moving about.

“Look who the cat dragged in. Bah!” She poured herself a cup from the teapot. Tav sat back, gracelessly on the couch, swirling the steaming fluid. Shadowheart snorted at the sight of this supposed aristocratic woman in the same crumpled dress she’d slept in, slumped back, wearing a scowl. She looked every bit as un-ladylike as she had when they were camping in the rain, dining off scraps from bins. Refilling her empty glass, Shadowheart scooted closer to Tav, letting the elf rest her head on her shoulder.

“You know, we could always run off to my cottage in the countryside if Astarion continues to be a prick. It could be the two of us with my father.” The sarcasm dripped from her lips. Tav considered, hypothetically, what it would be like raising her child in the countryside. Watching him or her frolic in the fields, making crowns of flowers, playing with the barnyard animals.

“We’ll spend our days churning butter, raking muck, and going barefoot in the woods. Right up my alley.” Both of them roared with laughter. Tav might be well traveled, capable of roughing it, but a farmhand she was not.

“You wouldn’t last a day!”

“A day? You’re being generous. Though, I daresay I’d still last longer than Astarion. He’d quit as soon as he arrived.” She sipped her tea, trying not to spill it as she kept cackling.

“Could you imagine Astarion in denim overalls and a straw hat?” Shadowheart wasn’t as lucky with her wine. Drops of the red vintage spilled onto her pale blue top, bleeding quickly into the fabric, “Dammit!”

She stood up, a bit too quick, crashing back onto the couch. The wine was incredibly deceptive with its potency. Tav sighed, set down her cup and saucer, then helped Shadowheart to her feet. The cleric grinned sheepishly, yet appreciative of the aid.

Thankfully, her room wasn't a terribly far walk. By the time they arrived, the effects of the liquor had worsened.

“I should have eaten more,” Shadowheart slurred. This wasn’t entirely her fault. Tav was the one who thrust the bottle in front of her. Now, on top of the torrent of emotions was a heaping dollop of guilt. She didn’t seem to care that Tav was still present, undressing herself down to her smallclothes. It didn’t phase the bard, they had all seen each other unclothed at some point in their journey.

At the end of the bed was a worn traveler’s chest containing Shadowheart’s wardrobe. Tav pulled out a fresh pair of black linen slacks and a white tunic. Actually, no, she thought, tossing the tunic back in, that will get ruined if she gets sick, instead she settled on a black cotton tunic with floral embroidery at the collar, much better.

Shadowheart sat at the edge of the bed, legs crossed, propped up on her arms. If Tav didn’t know any better, she’d think her friend was trying to seduce her. Flashing a nervous smile, she placed the new set of clothes on the satin bedding. When she did, she was caught off guard by two slender arms around her neck.

Dumbfounded, Tav stared into a pair of enchanting green eyes. The old wound on Shadowheart’s hand lightly scraped against Tav’s cheek as she trailed her hand down the elf’s face and neck.

“It’s not fair,” the pungent aroma of the burgundy hung on her breath, “I saw you first. When we crashed off the nautiloid. You shook me awake. I took your hand. He held a dagger to your throat. And he is the one who has you,” she traced a delicate finger over Tav’s full lips, “It’s not fair.

Heat rushed to her face. Unsure of what to do next, Tav sat there stunned. She had no idea that Shadowheart harbored such feelings towards her. Had she been blind or did the Selunite keep her heart well concealed?

There was no time for reflections, the next thing she knew a pair of soft lips were tenderly kissing hers. She found herself unable to pull away from the sweet affections Shadowheart was beginning to lavish upon her. How she kissed, how she moved her hands was so different from Astarion.

Purple light flashed brightly, “Ah! It hurts!” She pulled away due to the pain. The old wound pulsed from the cruel goddess’s ire. Shar did love to butt in when her former follower was coming dangerously close to being happy.

This may have been a blessing in disguise. Tav placed the clothes on Shadowheart’s lap and went to leave. Through the cracked opening, she saw a pair of crimson eyes. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Upon opening the door, he was gone. Astarion was going to make her come to him. What choice did she have but to play his game? If he had caught Shadowheart kissing her, it could spell her doom.

If he was angry, she could not feel it. The walk to the master bedroom felt like a thousand miles. She felt her limbs grow heavy with each step. Gods, maybe he was right? Maybe I am made of glass, she deprecatingly thought.

Astarion was busy primping in the mirror when she arrived. He slowly turned around and leaned against the vanity, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Tav knew she had to proceed cautiously. How this conversation went may determine whether Shadowheart spends the night in her bed or a coffin.

“Well, well,” he was certainly enthusiastic, “How was it? Tasting our little house guest?”

Tav held her hands up in placatingly, “Astarion, she was drunk. It meant nothing. Please…” Astarion’s face scrunched before he burst into laughter.

“Of course it meant nothing. Little love, do you think I’m upset? You allow me to indulge in my appetites, why would I deny you yours?” He grabbed her by the waist, pressing her body against his, “You’re allowed to have a little fun from time to time. So, tell me how she was?”

Still wary, she chose her next words carefully, “Drunk. Soft? I can’t really say.”

“That’s it?” He asked, disappointed. “Well, if you two do end up having a night together, you’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“Are you,” she was a little hurt at how relaxed he was about her potentially sleeping around, “Are you really okay with sharing me like this? Bed hopping?”

“Darling, I’m not sharing anything. We’re talking about a bit of fun, a whim, experimentation, a night of passion, nothing more. What we have is far more than that. I have you in a deeper, more significant way than Shadowheart ever could.”

She could detect no deceit from him. Astarion’s view on sex strayed from the conventional norms. Wanton hedonism was as much a part of him as his fangs. Tav still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the subject.

Nights with Astarion gave her fulfillment beyond mere lust. His touch, his voice, all of him was a sensory experience that made her feel whole, free, loved, secure. To be so casual gave her a sense of uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” she spoke truthfully. His smirk widened.

“Well, whenever you’re ready,” he leaned into her ear, “I would love to watch, by the way.”

Tav pushed away from him. With everything that had been going on, she couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Exhausted, she curled up on the bed. This was going to be a long year.

Will Astarion and Elia survive this rocky time in their relationship?

Or will she run off to the countryside with Shadowheart? Yee haw, y'all it's farmerstarion. (No, not really.)

Thank you for reading. Leave a comment, like, or reblog if you wish.

#astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x female tav #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion ascended #ascended astarion fic #ascended astarion romance #ascended astarion

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