#this is a master piece | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ravenwind-75 · 2 days ago

Text

OH MY GOSH THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL I TEARED UP!! CRYIING RN!

—A Melody Reawakened—

[HCU Christmas Oneshot: featuring Valentine and Callan]

Summary: In the silence of Christmas Eve of 1891 (at Hogwarts), two long-separated childhood friends unexpectedly found solace through a familiar melody.

Pairing: Valentine Black × Callan Gaunt ( @girl-named-matty )

Rating: General Audience

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff (?), Second Chances, Childhood Friends, Sentimental Gifts, Christmas Theme, Fulfilling Promises, Bittersweet Past, Slow Burn, Soulmates.

Content Warning: This story contains themes of childhood trauma, emotional struggles, and feelings of isolation. It explores complex family dynamics and the impact of loneliness during the holiday season. Reader discretion is advised for those sensitive to themes of abandonment and personal loss.

★ word count: 2.1k

There was serene silence that cloaked the corridors of Hogwarts as the holiday spirit echoed softly through the ancient stone walls. It was the Christmas eve of 1891 and most students had already departed to celebrate with their families, laughter and warmth filling homes across the wizarding world and beyond.

Yet not everyone reveled in this joy or feels lucky to be a part of something worth celebrating for. At least that's what our resident Grinch—Valentine Black—felt.

Val never liked the Christmas holidays.

To be fair, she used to love it not until her uncle Phineas Nigellus Black raised her in a household where she was made to feel invisible and invalid, especially on Christmas.

Gifts? Gifts for Valentine? What is that? I have no idea.

As she wandered through the empty halls of the castle, her heart felt heavy with the quiet solitude that was all too familiar. But then again, there was a sense of freedom that sparked somewhere in the guarded walls of her heart that reminded her that maybe things wouldn't be as bad this time.

Entering the Slytherin common room, the flickering flames of fire danced cheerfully in the fireplace, casting warm, golden light over the plush green and silver furnishings. The chilly air nipped at the girl's cheeks as she silently wandered through the common room, the dim glow of the fire casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

As the Slytherin girl wanders through the space, her gaze drifts to the grand piano nestled in the corner, its polished surface inviting her to escape into her world of music.

With a soft sigh, she approached the instrument. Taking a seat on the chilly bench, she gently brushed her fingers over the keys and began to play a melody, allowing its familiarity and comfort to wash all over her. Each note resonated with longing and solitude, wrapping her in a cocoon of bittersweet memories; she had loved this song for as long as she could remember.

With most of her housemates gone for the holidays, the solitude wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, yet the absence of festive chatter and laughter left an ache in her chest. The soft notes she played resonated in the stillness, each chord a tender reminder of happier memories. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the faces of her friends, or, as she calls them her 'newfound family.' They may be away for the holidays but Val is happy that they get to spend their time with their loved ones.

'Lucky them,' she mused while a playful smile tugged her lips.

—

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dormitory lies Callan Gaunt staring out of the frosted window, watching the snowflakes swirling playfully in the icy air beyond the glass.

In the silence, the boy is haunted and tormented by his thoughts—mainly driven by the constant urge to escape his family. A Gaunt by blood, he felt a deep sense of disconnection from his heritage and so does his cousin, Ominis Gaunt, who's situated a few feet away and is already asleep.

Despite his love to celebrate such an occasion, the boy can't help but feel worried about the possibility that his family would nag him about staying in the castle again.

'Not like they actually care,' he shrugged.

However, Cal has no ounce of regret left in him about choosing to spend the holidays in the castle. After all, Ominis is staying, so why shouldn't he?

Amid the boy's war with his mind, a familiar tune echoed into Cal's ears once again, the sound that he had been anxiously trying to search for in the past few days.

'That sound...' he thought while turning his head in the direction of the music playing.

Intrigued and guided by the melodic echoes, he left the comforting solitude of his room and made his way toward the sound, the thrill of anticipation quickening his pulse.

As he crossed the threshold into the common room, he found Val seated at the piano, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys, a serene expression of concentration gracing her features. It was a scene bathed in golden light, illuminated by the flickering fire and the soft glow of enchanted candles lining the walls.

Cal's heart raced, a mix of nervous energy and admiration flooding his senses. She didn’t notice him at first, so he gathered his courage, sweating under the weight of his shyness.

"You’re… you’re playing my favorite song,” he managed to stammer, stepping cautiously into the room, his heart racing. The tension hung in the air, thick and sweet, but Val's playful nature quickly shattered it.

“Is that so?” she teased, a smirk dancing on her lips. “I didn’t know I had a fan.”

As Val beckoned him closer, he felt a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. “Want to learn how it’s played?” she asked, her voice light and inviting.

As he settled beside her, the tension between them thickened the air like the scent of festive pine. Cal tried to keep his composure as he placed his hands on the keys but fumbled through beginner mistakes. Each misplayed note felt like a betrayal, but the brightness in Val's eyes made him want to try harder.

“Ah, let��s try that again,” she said, gentle laughter peppering her words. It was more soothing than the song itself.

They resumed, and with each failure, a palpable tension simmered around them. Each time their hands brushed—his clumsy reach colliding with her nimble grace—his heart raced with a jolt of electricity. Val's laughter danced in the air, each giggle striking something deep within him, and he found himself enchanted.

“Come on, you can do it,” she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm. “You just need to relax.”

“I can’t believe I’m so bad at this,” Cal feigned annoyance, his smile brightening the room.

Val rolled her eyes playfully, but there was an unspoken weight in the air, something that lingered just beneath their shared laughter. As she leaned closer to demonstrate the next part, the warmth of her presence enveloped him, and he felt a longing to bear his heart surged within him.

For a moment, the laughter faded, and the atmosphere shifted. “You know,” Cal began hesitantly, “I haven’t heard this song in years. Who taught you to play it?” His tone softened, curiosity alight in his eyes.

Val hesitated, her expression growing contemplative as she looked down at her hands resting on the piano. “A friend,” she whispered, her voice dipping as a shadow crossed her features.

The moment hung heavy between them. He watched as her expression shifted, a veil slipping over her eyes. And in that instant, she opened up slightly, revealing a glimpse of her guarded heart. “After everything happened, it became my comfort when I felt lost.”

Cal felt a pang of longing echo in his chest as she spoke, and he desperately wanted to bridge the gap—to reach the part of her that was still hidden beneath layers of protective armor. “What happened to your friend?” he asked quietly.

Val's fingers hesitated over the keys, emotion pinching her features. “I…I really don't know... One day, my uncle told me that I was not allowed to visit my friend anymore."

Silence enveloped them leaving only the flickering fire and their steady breaths. It was a silence laden with a space of shared vulnerability that made the world outside fade into oblivion.

“Is that why you play?” he asked softly, earning her undivided attention. “To remember?”

“Yeah,” she replied, the confession of a mere thread of sound. “And to feel less alone.”

"I think…” Cal started, but the words slipped through his grasp as their hearts raced together in the quiet of that moment. The air crackled with the unfulfilled promise of connection.

“I’m sorry,” Val said suddenly, a mask of uncertainty crossing her features. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he interrupted, leaning slightly closer, daring the space between them. “No, it’s okay. It feels good to remember. To share.”

Just then, as if drawn by an unseen force, Cal reached over to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers barely grazed her skin, causing a spark to flit through the air between them. Val's breath caught, and their eyes locked in a gaze that spoke volumes of the unsaid words dancing on the tips of their tongues.

But tragedy struck in a moment of clumsiness; he shifted at the piano, accidentally bumping against the edge, and the necklace nestled beneath his shirt slipped from its hiding place, revealing the emerald ring that hung on a silver chain. He quickly grasped it, but not before she noticed; a gasp escaped Val's lips, curiosity painting her face.

“Where did you get that necklace?” she asked, her voice slightly breathless, eyes wide with curiosity.

“It was a gift from my childhood friend,” Cal shared, trying to keep his voice steady in the heat of vulnerability. “I loved her dearly, and I wanted to keep a piece of her with me.”

She leaned forward slightly, a look of recognition flickering across her face, sending his heart into a wild rhythm. “That's sweet,” Val said with a soft voice, almost like a whisper.

“I wish I had a chance to tell her how much she means to me,” he said, as a few tear drops threatened to spill from beautiful dark brown eyes. “But I never got to say goodbye.”

Val inhaled deeply, summoning courage, and reached into her pocket. A teasing smirk played on her lips as she revealed a music box. “I promised I would return, didn't I?”

Cal's heart raced, memories flooding back to the day in their childhood when he exchanged gifts with Val; they were only five years old when it happened. It was a summer business soiree in the Gaunt Manor when the young versions of themselves met. Their friendship was an instant click and they bonded over their favorite hobbies.

They may never have had the chance to say it to each other (since they were children), but they were both each other's sunshine at that time; they just didn't know it yet. Before their decade-long separation, the two children exchanged sentimental gifts from the people that meant the most to them at that time: the music box from Aunt Noctua and the emerald ring that belonged to the late Mrs. Black. The last words they exchanged were: “Promise you’ll be back?” “I promise."

“You… It was you,” Callan stammered, eyes wide. “You’re the one I gave it to!”

The air felt electric now, heavy with their memories, and the flames in the fireplace crackled louder as if echoing their discovery. The barriers they had both built around themselves began to crumble in that moment of shared intimacy, like the walls of Hogwarts that sheltered them.

Eventually, they decided to leave the piano behind and find new surroundings in the glow of the soft fire. They settled on the couch, hot cocoa warming their hands as they spoke about everything and nothing, the stories of their childhood merging into the fabric of this special night.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Val confided while looking at him with awe, all her limiting beliefs being proved wrong as she spoke. "Yet here we are."

"Am I dreaming?— This certainly feels like a dream; one I wouldn't dare to wake up," their eyes locked into a gaze full of unsaid words but enough for only the two of them to understand. They both let out a quick laugh as the warmth of the fireplace embraced them.

The next thing they know is that Val found herself resting her head on Cal's shoulder; a gasp of surprise welled up within him, panic mingling with elation. His heart slammed against his ribcage, each beat a reminder of this delicate moment that felt as if it would shatter with the slightest movement.

But Val was warm and secure, and he melted into the moment, letting himself breathe. She felt so right against him, his nerves quieting as they embraced the calm.

For the first time, the shadows of loneliness began to lift, replaced by the flickering warmth of connection, the promise of something beautiful unfolding between them by the fire’s gentle embrace.

Who would've thought that after all this time, the person they were searching for was just right in front of them? And it took a cherished shared melody to awaken the memories that their mind had forgotten over the years — but the heart always remembers.

— thank you for reading! 🫂✨

[additional notes]

🥞 i'm not a writer but i have free and brain full of ideas 🤪 so if my style ain't your cup of tea, just kindly skedaddle in peace ♡

🥞 non-native english speaker here! so teeny tiny grammatical errors are possible 😅

🥞 this one-shot is written by me: @savingsallow

🥞 coordinated the ideas with: @girl-named-matty ♡

#what do you mean you're not a writer #this is beautiful what #don't undermine yourself girl #this is a master piece #callan gaunt #valentine black #so soft and sweet ahh

26 notes · View notes

the-lake-is-calling · 1 year ago

Text

I’m. Sobbing. This was so incredibly sweet and wholesome.

“You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Listen I love BG3, the dev team is amazing and the characters they’ve written are so phenomenal, but to see someone else pick them up and be able so write them so true to character, god you have a gift. You are so incredibly talented, the way I felt every emotion. I was so afraid when the hunter showed up even though I had a idea of how it’d end. Him putting his hand on her back so gently I just.

Everything about this was SO so good dude. I’m seriously in awe of you and your writing ability. I fucking love this series already, I can’t wait to see what you come up with next and how their relationship develops. OH JESUS AND THE TENDER MOMENT AT THE END ESPECIALLY WHEN HE SAYS HES TURNED ON I CACKLED

FEAR OF LOSING IT

SUMMARY: When it's discovered that Astarion's being hunted, you take matters into your own bloody hands.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,235

WARNINGS: Teasing, spoilers for BG3, canon typical violence, minor character death, pining if you squint a little, feelings realized!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 4 is here! Prompt is "you're not scared, are you? Of Me?" So hopefully I did it justice?

Also sidenote, to anyone wanting to be on the taglist. I had a few issues tagging some people but I still put your name. Not sure why it won't let me tag so check your settings and next fic I'll try again.

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

The sun beams down as you walk along the water’s edge, carefully stepping over damp rocks and foliage with narrowed eyes. As per usual, you and Astarion are trailing behind the rest of the pack —you because of the hangover you’ve been nursing all morning; him because he lives to irritate you.

“I don’t understand how you feel so ill. You barely had more than a few drops of that ale.”

Slightly in front of you, Astarion steps around a patch of suspicious-looking rocks, turning to grab your arm and guide you out of the way as you scrunch up your face in disgust.

The air is way too hot to be touched. Beneath the fabric of your tunic, you can feel your skin grow increasingly sticky, prompting you to brush off Astarion's hand but reluctantly still follow with a groan.

“I drank more at camp,” you confess, feeling a pain radiate inside your head. One that’s almost reminiscent of the tadpole, pulsing in angry motions that make you close your eyes and quietly wince.

Picking up on your discomfort, Astarion slows his pace, opting to walk alongside you rather than ahead. “And why in gods name did you decide to do that?”

Immediately, you shrug your shoulders, offering him nothing despite knowing the reason. Last night at the party you embarrassingly drank to forget all those thoughts. The ones filled with visions of hands and mouths gliding across your wanting skin.

Even now you hate to admit it, but after parting ways, you were still a bit riled up. A mixture of anger and annoyance coating your soul once you finally got situated inside your tent, knowing deep down there wasn’t much you could do. Gale had already returned to camp before you so you definitely couldn’t do the deed yourself without the possibility of further embarrassment, and you sure as hell weren’t going to wander back to Astarion with your hands between your thighs, begging for release.

In the end, the only other option was to get pissed drunk, so you did. And now, you were greatly suffering the consequences in the form of a whole day’s worth of walking under the beating sun alongside an overly stubborn and nosy vampire.

“All by your lonesome?”

Without even having to think, he looks at you with the kind of false pity that makes you want to drown him. To lace your fingers in his perfect locks so that you can better shove his face into the water, never to hear that damned voice again.

Gods, is it ever tempting...

Rolling your eyes, you swear under your breath and shove him aside instead, feeling the edge of your elbow make contact with his chest before you attempt to step forward, feeling his hand pull you back.

Overall, the motion is quick and painless —a twirling rush that sends you hurtling into his frame, boxing you in in the form of a hand that rests against your lower back— but regardless it still surprises you.

“Was it because you wanted it?”

His hand lingers against your leathers as he awaits your answer. Barely putting enough weight to truly hold you back, it quickly becomes obvious that your current stance against him is of your own volition. A choice you’ve made during a moment of weak desire as you deeply inhale the dewy air.

“Wanted what?”

“You know.”

At this point, you’re positive he knows that you secretly like it when he touches you. When he physically guides you through difficult terrain or lets your fingers brush when trading trinkets after a day of looting. You’ve never made it known that you dislike it —never protested, even during times of tense discussion. All you’ve ever done is make faces of annoyance, hoping he’ll take the hint.

He never does. Not even now, as you press both of your palms against his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you stare him down, does he think to move. To let his hand fall to his side to let you continue your stride. Instead, all it does is remain perfectly still, resting against the small of your back, waiting.

It makes you swallow hard as you take a step back, feeling the resistance of your hip as it brushes through his fingers.

“You’re really not going to admit it?” he asks then, watching you pause. Feeling you stop mid-step to cock your head and flash him a grin so utterly snobbish, that his facade of confidence finally slips.

“What? That I want to fuck you?”

Your voice is patronizing. A pointed tongue laced with poison gunning for his throat. You want him to taste his own medicine. To feel what it’s like to be on the receiving end of taunting words that fluster, so you don’t say much more. All you do is stare, waiting for him to break.

“No, that you want me to fuck you,” he corrects almost immediately, his courage returning ten-fold. Doubling down on the way your mouth slightly opens in annoyance, because even in your boldest of moments he still manages to throw you off.

It makes you want to drown yourself instead, realizing just how persuasive he can be. Without trying, it’s as if he’s perfected every potential conversation before it’s happened. In his mind, he can look at a face —hear the beginnings of their voice and already have the correct response at the ready.

“Do you spend all your time thinking of ways to seduce anyone that gives you the time of day?” As you speak, you fully step away, turning on your heel to let out a shaky breath you pray he doesn’t catch.

“Only the attractive ones, I suppose.” He laughs and follows behind, his footsteps echoing through the water as you attempt to catch up with the rest of the group.

“Attractive ones, huh?” You peer over your shoulder with a raised brow. “Is that a genuine compliment you’re offering or another one of your usual deceptions meant to butter me up?”

He doesn’t tell you. Instead, he just offers you a shrug and purses his lips, leaving you guessing —an expression that only tightens the tension that’s seemingly begun to grow.

Well, at least for you.

Since the night you let him feed, even you have to admit that you’ve found it increasingly hard to resist his charms, remembering how good it felt to just let go for a couple of moments. How, when it happened, there was an inkling of freedom that you felt was found. A new sense of clarity that arrived just as your lifeblood left.

As much as you’d deny it if asked, you think about it often. At night, when you’re lying in your tent trying to sleep, you frequently attempt to replicate that feeling, calling upon your tadpole to replay the memory of the cold, numbness deep inside your throat.

As you step out of the water onto a patch of grass, you wish you could feel it now instead of the hangover. Instead of the sweltering heat and Astarion's piercing gaze penetrating the back of your head, waiting for another response he’ll just counter.

It’d certainly make the daily trek you’re experiencing all the more bearable. Being able to forget about the aching in your skull for just a moment would solve at least half of your problems, maybe even two-thirds of them depending on how Astarion proceeds to act. On whether or not he walks in silence or—

“Do you smell that?”

You release a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling your impatience begin to build. “Smell what?”

He loudly sniffs beside you, his nose scrunching upwards dramatically before he turns his head, narrowing his eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t smell that?”

“Smell w—“

Before you even have time to react, it hits you. The foul stench of metallic burning through your mouth and nose, forcing you to cover your face with your hands.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?”

You nod, tightening the hold around your face as you continue forward, realizing you’ve somehow lost the rest of the group —something Astarion notices too, causing both of you to slightly panic.

“Oh, for fuck sakes, really? They couldn’t at least wait for us to finish our…”

As he trails off, waving his hand in the air to replace whatever words die in his throat, you catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar man up ahead, watching as the both of you continue.

“They’re probably over the hill,” you point out then, trying your best not to let the sudden nerves inside your chest get the better of you once you see the nameless man raise his hand, beckoning you closer.

“Who the bloody —do you know him?”

You look at Astarion as if he’s just said the stupidest thing known to man, still moving forward. “Ah yes, the mysterious man standing out in the open! Yes, I know him well, why?”

“Alright, no need to be cruel.”

“Says you.”

Once again, his response fades to nothing. The argument slipping down his throat once the voice of the man calls out to you.

“Maybe he saw where the others went?”

Astarion scoffs. “Or maybe he’s the one who’s been setting up all those traps.”

“Traps?”

You don’t remember seeing any traps. But then again, you’re not very perceptive when your head feels like it’s on the verge of splitting in half.

“Yes, traps. The one’s I’ve been guiding you through like a fucking cattle dog!”

Letting your frustrations get the better of you shove him aside before you can think, turning to let both hands lay waste to his shoulder causing him to stumble sideways. As he does, he looks at you with hesitant curiosity; knitting his brows together while his mouth falls open into a half smile.

An awkward laugh sounds through the pounding in your head as the footsteps draw near, prompting you to look ahead, noticing the man a few steps away, looking between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

His words sound sincere —cautious in a way that has you peeling your gaze away from Astarion's wild expression to shake your head.

“No, sorry, just a, uh—“

“A lover’s quarrel,” Astarion finishes. “You know how it is.”

Angrily you inhale, paying his obviously entertained face no mind as you continue to survey the man now in front of you, noticing the plainness of his clothes and the unkempt hair that circles his face like a halo.

It’s apparent then that he’s been on the road for some time now. He’s not necessarily dirty looking but quickly you realize he’s the cause of the smell, making you swallow hard in an attempt to suppress the sickness that follows.

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.” He laughs —as does Astarion— while you just frown in between, trying not to blow another fuse.

“I’m sorry but can we help you?” You crane your neck and smile sweetly, letting the more deceptive side of your mind take over, prompting Astarion to quickly clue in and do the same.

“I was just speaking to your friends up there. They told me you were falling behind.”

“And that’s your business because?” Raising your brow, you watch him falter for a moment.

“I’ve set some traps along the path. Nothing too hidden if you’ve got a keen eye like all of you, but still, I informed them of their whereabouts.”

Informed them of their whereabouts? Please. This man’s trapping skills are abysmal at best.

You have to bite your lip once you hear Astarion's insult in the back of your mind, knowing he’s right. It’s one thing for him to notice the traps but for the rest of your party to as well? There’s no way they would’ve noticed if not for the lack of effort put into their placings.

“Well, uh, thank you. That’s decent of you.” You nod but make no effort to move. Instead, you just stand there motionless, staring him down, waiting for him to elaborate further so that you can better gauge this man’s intentions.

You’re certain they’re anything but innocent. Given the smell wafting off his leathers and the way he keeps glancing over at Astarion with a slight twinkle in his eye makes your suspicion only grow. Your defensive walls rising to their highest point as you look at the vampire, allowing your tadpole to reach out.

He’s up to something.

“Yes, well, I’m not hunting the likes of you so best avoid the unnecessary conflict and clean up.” The man’s gaze slowly turns to you, a hardened grin creeping through his features, causing you to twitch.

There’s definitely something off. Something far more sinister underneath that polite expression and overly eager attempt at making small talk but you’re still not sure what it is. Or what it means when he offers you his help.

“Fair point, but what are you hunting, may I ask?”

“Something terrifying?” Astarion questions. “Perhaps a dragon or a kobold?”

What if it’s you?

Your partner’s eyes shoot to yours. Immediately, they fill with something you’ve never seen before. Bordering on fear, you’re quick to notice their unexpected vigilance. The building of a thought that drives his mind to something new.

Suddenly in an instant, he’s overly alert, the movements of his shifting pupils making you wonder if maybe this is the man Astarion's been looking out for. That somewhere in his past he took advantage of the wrong person and they’ve been enacting their revenge ever since. Honestly, it’d make sense. Vampires aren’t the most well-liked of creatures, and although, aside from Astarion you’ve never experienced the company of one, it’s become increasingly obvious he’s a special case. A vampire that excels in all deceptive measures and tactics, preying heavily on whatever victims he can get his hands on. So, it wouldn’t be far off to think this man was hired to kill him.

Making use of the tadpole again, you reach out silently, feeling no reluctance as the face of a man appears at the back of your mind, towering over you. Black as the night itself, he shrouds you in an ocean of thick shadows that conceal his face but not his presence, and because of this, there’s a panic that rises through your chest. Clutching your lungs with clawed fingertips that threaten to burst them like balloons.

You force yourself not to look at Astarion as the memory continues —as an angry voice echoes through your ears telling you you’re his. That you belong to him and no one else and that if you so much as step a hair out of line he’ll hunt you down.

Before you can even react the memory fades, leaving you there to piece together the man in the vision and the hunter standing before you, knowing they’re connected by a common enemy. Strung together by a tether of motivation that ties around Astarion's throat like a tightened noose.

He’s not here to kill him but to take him away. To snatch him right under your noses by playing the unsuspecting hero.

“As exciting as those options are, I'm actually on the lookout for a vampire spawn. His name is Astarion but I fear he’s already long gone.”

His confirmation is all you need to let your guard rise further up. Allowing your fingers to stretch against your sides, readying their need to reach for your weapon, you merely nod your head and let Astarion take the reins.

“Oh, what a pity. It’s always like that for creatures to run away at the illest of moments, isn’t it?” He leans in with that same devilish grin, tossing aside all previous fears in favour of this newfound information.

“Isn’t it,” the man parrots, shaking his head with a fake laugh. “Rather unfortunate considering I’m only trying to bring him home.”

“Home?”

The word pours from your lips with such desperation that even the hunter questions your response. Raising his brow, he only slightly leans forward with interest, clicking his tongue as he glances between the two of you. “You wouldn’t happen to know this Astarion character, would you?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

“Nope.”

You sound like two opposing sides of a coin. Astarion, ever the charmer responds with subtly, the structure of his body remaining calm and collected while you remain a ball of nerves. A tightly wound set of muscle and bone too quick on the draw for your response to be deemed believable.

“He’s dangerous, you know. A wicked thing. Or, so I’ve heard.” He’s speaking solely to you but regardless Astarion continues to control the conversation, pulling it all back with a loud hum.

“Wicked you say? Care to elaborate.”

There’s confusion for a moment. Then acceptance, prompting the man in front of you to explain. “While he’s nothing more than a vampiric spawn, he’s still got quite the head on his shoulders. Cunning, but nothing compared to a real vampire.”

You know Astarion’s fuming beneath his facade then. Eagerly awaiting to rip this man apart, limb by bloody limb once the opportunity arises. You can feel his emotions through the tadpole —the way they pulse in angry waves, threatening to spill out at a moment’s notice.

Almost instantly, it forces you to push him back. Closing your eyes for a second or two, you shift thoughts of comfort to his head, letting him know that you’re there. That if the moment comes where this hunter makes his move you’ll be ready to defend him.

Thankfully, it calms him down —steadies the rousing anger that you know is still there, lingering beneath the surface. Allowing him to take a few breaths, resetting himself for the inevitable.

“I mean, I’m no expert but considering they’re still technically vampires I feel it’s safe to assume you’re still at the risk of… oh, I don’t know, injury? A good maiming perhaps if the spawn were to be particularly famished?”

“You’re not wrong, I suppose. Spawns are particularly powerful compared to the average but considering the sun’s high and dry I’d say we have the advantage.”

“Do we now?”

The two of you share a glance. Astarion's tadpole squirms in time with your own and in an instant a plot is formed.

“Actually, now that you mention it I have heard tell of this Astarion fellow,” you muse, watching the man’s expression. How it changes from innocent hero to hungry hunter at the drop of a hat.

Next to you, Astarion nods his head, echoing your words.

“You don’t say?”

“We were actually a part of a camp not far from here last night. A big group. So, it makes sense why the name didn’t come to me sooner.” You push out a fake laugh, acting as if the whole thing’s some silly little mistake while you wave a hand through the air. “Now that you’ve reminded me though, he was definitely there, lurking about like a little leech.”

You wiggle your fingers for dramatics, earning a scoff inside your mind that has you forcing back a genuine laugh, sensing Astarion’s annoyance.

“You wouldn’t happen to know what way he was going?”

This time Astarion pipes up. “I remember him saying something but, honestly, my uh, memory is a big foggy.”

As he raises a hand to his face, gripping the bridge of his nose, you motion the man to move close. “Perhaps a bit of coin could remind my uh, lover here of the information you seek.”

Lover, huh?

Paying no mind to his internal dialogue, you rub your fingers together to signify your partner’s needs, watching intently as the man leans back and looks at you with slight annoyance before taking a moment, realizing he’s got nothing to lose.

Considering the payout will more than likely cover such costs, he quickly turns his attention to the bag resting on his hip, opening it up with slow hands that you jump at the chance to catch off guard.

Pulling a dagger off your hip, you make no sound as you drive the blade into the side of his throat. All you do is press a hand to his mouth, covering the groans that swiftly coat your fingers in blood, following him toward the ground.

“I’d say be wary the next time you come snooping in other people’s business but I’m afraid it’s too late for that, isn’t it?” you tell him, feeling him struggle. Seeing him reach out to grab the knife that sits tightly in your hand, wedging itself further into the apex of his neck. Suddenly, it makes you realize what you’ve done.

You’ve just killed a man in cold blood. And for the life of another killer, no less. Without so much as a thought, you drove this man straight to his grave, knowing that if you didn’t the probability of him gaining the upper hand would only grow. That if he survived and caught on to your ploy, he could’ve taken Astarion away.

You realize then that you’re anything but ready for something like that to happen. Sure, he may be the cause of a lot of your frustrations throughout the day but somehow he manages to balance them out with his charm. With his innate ability to provide you with a space that’s begun to border the lines of comfort the more time you spend with him.

It’d hurt too much to let him go. But it’d hurt even more knowing he’d be going back to his old life. To the one you still know so little about but feel its pain. The never-ending threat of a figure controlling his every movement. He may not have spared the details but you know the last thing he wants is to find his way back there, so you did what you had to do to prevent that. To keep him safe just as you so subtly promised.

Breathing heavily, you let go of the knife and look toward him, asking him if he’s okay.

“Okay? Darling, you can’t be serious!”

“What?”

He’s kneeling on the ground beside you before anything else, reaching to grab your shoulders, pulling you roughly into his chest. “You just asked that man to pay us money and then jabbed a knife through his throat. If anyone should be asking who’s okay here, it’s me.”

“I’m fine. Are y—“

“Shhh.”

Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to you how badly you’d been shaking. Against his chest, you can feel the tremors of adrenaline take over as your head slowly lowers to his shoulder, releasing a loud and shaky breath.

You know exactly what came over you at that moment. The fear of losing the only person that’s ever made you feel happy despite your flaws became too real and it caused you to lose all sense of preservation.

Almost instantly, you became nothing more than a weapon —a striking blade shoved through opposing flesh. You felt the threat of the moment and your mind flew through all the other possibilities, landing on the only ending where Astarion's safety was ensured.

Realizing this, you slowly move to wrap your arms around his waist, feeling him hesitate halfway through.

It’s obvious then you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, so you go to pull away, apologizing under your breath as you feel his grip only tighten.

“Are you okay?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking. Or why he refuses to let you go. “Astarion, I said I’m fine.”

“Yes but are you okay?”

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. Forcing you to see the uncharacteristic care inside his eyes as he thumbs your skin. It causes your tadpole to wriggle almost uncontrollably, discovering the connection that’s there. The unspoken bond he shares with you now that you’ve proved your loyalty. It’s enough to earn your honesty. To admit that you’re not okay while he continues to hold you.

You’re not sure why you care so much for him. Maybe it’s the attention he offers in a world where loneliness is often rampant or the way he makes you laugh even during the most unsightly moments. Either way, all you know is that in this moment you’re afraid he’ll hate you for it. For letting the curtain of snide remarks and harsh jokes slip to reveal a body of emotions too big for you to carry by yourself.

“I couldn’t let him take you.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper. So inaudible against the sounds of the world around you that for a second you think you’ve spoke to his mind.

“I see that. You struck him before I could even ask him to sweeten the deal.”

“I’m sorry.”

Astarion snorts and moves his hand, letting it glide across your cheek until it finds purchase beneath your chin. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saw a dangerous man and took charge. Honestly, it was frightening.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of?”

“Of me?”

The laugh he lets go of is so full that this time you feel him shake, his frame rattling against yours as he taps your chin. “Not in the slightest, my dear. Impressed, maybe. A little bit turned on too if I’m being frank but no. Not scared.”

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

#this is a master piece #I will scream it from the roof tops #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #Alyssa reads #fic rex #fic reccomendation

1K notes · View notes