ferallymine
Amalgamations
24//F//poet//I am an amalgamation of my own desires and the traits of loved passerbys
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im cooking
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I'm going to kill myself thinking about Kiki's eyes darting around and peeking through his hair
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incredible sound effects from game freak, no notes
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Part 2 - Morning Dove
a/n: This is continuing my Act 1 - Nightmare. In other words, Kaledia shows one (1) gentle act of affection and Astarion spirals over it.
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“You didn’t have to stay up all night.” Astarion was sitting on the floor outside the tent, speaking to the air.
Kaledia was asleep just inside; the rogue had opened her tent flap just a little, letting him keep an eye on her. Her hair was a mess of waves, braids undone before her tiredness claimed her consciousness.
She tried to protest taking the day off from adventuring, but Rho insisted she stay behind. You need sleep! The drow had said to her. Better a tired bard than an exhausted barbarian! I’ll be fine- Kaledia had tried to quip back before tripping over a stone her half-shut eyes hadn’t seen.
He’d caught her, then- stopped her from crashing against the rocks. The rogue managed to wave off the others, promising her to help undo those aching braids. Who even did these in the first place? They’re uneven and look terrible. Let me braid them next time. Astarion kept his hands gentle while she tried to sit still. Kaledia had mumbled some response, but exhaustion slurred her words.
She kept her promise to him. Kaledia had kept watch all night while he got the elven equivalent of sleep. And now he was returning the favor. Was it out of genuine concern, like she had shown him? Or was it so that he didn’t owe any favors in the future?
Astarion couldn’t quite place why he wanted to stay by the bard’s side; he just felt… comfortable? Did comfort drive him to stay last night, be vulnerable with a stranger? The only thing they shared was a tadpole connection… right?
“We’re strangers, Kay…” Astarion’s voice was a whisper, as if the bugs outside with him were eavesdropping. “Why…” he trailed off, leaving his thoughts unsaid.
Why give so much of yourself? You don’t know me…
Did he want to remain strangers?
Thoughts threatened to spiral him again. Since when did a mark last make him feel this pit in his undead heart? The bard is a means to an end- a way to be safe in unknown territory. Astarion shook his head, pulling out his dagger. Astarion flipped the blade in his hand, point gently pressing against his fingertip. The sensation allowed for a moment of grounding. He looked around; A rock nearby looked to be just the right shape to sharpen his weapon.
Gentle sparks raked the ground. The sound of rough slicing filled the void as he honed his blade. The familiar sound blended with the noise of the land around them. Astarion’s eyes glazed over as his mind began to space out. Buried in his subconscious, questions and persistent doubts made their home.
The gods haven’t answered my cries in two centuries. Who’s divine prank is this? His brow furrowed. Don’t give me hope.
A soft hum sounded behind him. Astarion looked around, blade still in hand. Was something lurking about? Had someone stumbled upon this merry band of weirdos’ place of rest? Has he found me?
Rustling in nearby berry bushes caught his attention. One hand closed Kaledia’s tent while the other readied the newly sharpened dagger. He was silent in his movements close to the ground, somehow barely disturbing the dirt. The rogue tore open the branches, bringing down his blade with deadly intent.
Feathers puffed in a frantic explosion. A yelp of surprise, Astarion let go of his blade in an attempt to guard his face. A flurry of birds scattered from the intrusion, leaving behind their unlucky friend. Once sure all had left, he lowered his arms. A single mourning dove lay before him, stabbed directly through the chest.
Astarion withdrew his weapon from the lifeless bird, watching the blood slowly drain onto the ground, “… pity. Such a pretty thing gone to waste.”
“Are you okay?” He turned to find Kaledia standing outside her tent, “Did you get whatever it was?”
“You got enough sleep already?” He made his way back over, “It’s been, what, maybe four hours?”
A cheeky smile, “I’m feeling good enough. Though I wouldn’t mind guarding the camp until the others return.” She stretched her arms and leaned back, “Gives me time to rest my voice, tune my strings, all that fun stuff.”
“Wouldn’t want you to play something flat during a fight, now.”
“I can think of nothing worse happening to me.” She placed her hand to her forehead, feigning tragedy. “Do you play any instruments, Starlight?”
“I… don’t remember.” He seemed lost in thought for the briefest moment, “If I ever did, it’s been so long since I touched anything musical.”
“Oh, I-“
“Does sleeping with opera singers count?”
“Astarion!”
“Yes?” A smug smile on his face, “If you’d like, there’s other ways I can make you say my name.”
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The Sound of Being Loved
Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader
Possibly OOC. I'm posting this at like 12am and I am so tired sleepy but I needed to finish this Or Else
Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️
Word Count: 737
Masterlist
AO3
Astarion let out a stiff breath as your fingers brushed over the scar. The poem. The sigil. Whatever it was Cazador'd carved into his back.
You'd asked him about it before. He'd answer curtly and bitterly - as he’d always done when his master was the subject of conversation. But that was so long ago now. At least, it felt quite long ago. He couldn't really be sure. All he knew was things were finally dying down and becoming normal. As normal as things could be, anyway. And you couldn't stop yourself from asking again.
That's how you ended up straddling his thighs as he laid chest-down on the bed.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," you reminded him softly. You kept repeating the phrase when he tensed beneath your fingers, or got that quiet, distant aura about him.
He hummed, turning his head to peek over his shoulder at you. He offered the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Go on," he encouraged. "He's dead - it doesn't matter anymore."
You tilted your head. Sharp eyes studied him, searching for any hint of a lie. He sighed quietly as your hand massaged the back of his neck. "But it still happened," you said, "you still hate it."
He smirked, but his quiet voice gave away the false confidence. "You know me too well, darling."
"Yes," you leaned down to kiss his cheek, "I do." He turned his head slightly more to catch your lips for a momentary kiss. Your lips hovered over his, eyes boring into his soul, searching. "I can stop."
"No. Please. I... I want you to know every part of me. I trust you."
You kissed him once more, languid and sweet, before sitting back up. He closed his eyes and tried to relax under your fingers. They danced across his back, tracing each line in their circular pattern. One hand slid to his waist to thumb circles into his side. He wondered why for a moment. Surely it would be easier to feel each infernal letter with both hands? Then he realized: it was a distraction. You were giving him something to focus on while you studied his back. His undead heart stuttered in his chest.
“I could translate it,” you whisper. It’s a gentle offer. “If you wanted to know what it says.”
Cazador is dead, he reminds himself. Whatever the bastard carved into his skin, it shouldn’t hold so much power over him anymore. But the thought of knowing exactly what was written there… His lips pursed.
You pressed a kiss to his spine, in between the circles of text. He lets out a breath. “No. Let it die with him.”
You’re quiet as you go back to tracing. He wonders if you’re translating it in your mind. He… doesn’t mind the thought - not as much as he thought he would. He trusts you, enough to know you would take the words to your grave. They would never be used against him, held over him as leverage. They’d just sit in a corner of your mind and collect dust, until their meaning is lost forever. He doesn’t mind that at all.
Once you’ve felt all of the letters, your hand traces the circles themselves. Starting right at the center, you go out ring by ring. Where scarred lines branch off, you ghost your touch up and down the ridges. There are several at the bottom of the scar. It almost looks like dripping wax, sealed into his skin forever. Imagining what it was like hurts too much.
He peeks over his shoulder again as he feels your hands, full, flat-palmed on his skin, sliding over his sides. You lay on top of him, sliding your arms around him, squished between his stomach and the bed. You’re so warm. Your head rests between his shoulder blades, breaths sliding across his back and shoulders like a warm summer breeze. His body fully relaxed into the affection. All tension faded away, and he allowed his eyes to close in the comfort.
“I love you,” you hum near his ear. “My beautiful star.”
Astarion smiles. “I love you, too. My dearest blood donor.” He relishes in the way you laugh against him, full and bright and free. And he hopes, when he’s lived for centuries more, and loses the spark of life in his eye, he remembers exactly how it sounds to be loved.
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We all know at this point that Astarion's name means "little star".
But Larian decided that they wanted to go all in with the details and they delivered!
The flower you can place on his tomb in the final romance scene (which I think is such a cute and tender gesture and I love his reaction to it), seems to be an Ornithogalum umbellatum, a star-shaped white flower with six petals. Among the plant's many common names, there are summer snowflake, starflower, and star-of-Bethlehem.
Moreover, in the language of flowers, its meanings are related to trauma, mourning, and welcoming pain without repressing it.
According to Doctor Edward Bach (1886 – 1936), these flowers are "For those who find themselves in a state of great anguish due to situations that, in a given period, have caused so much unhappiness", and can be used to help with the aftermath of a trauma, the alleviation of pain and the mourning process.
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I could fix him. I could make him worse. Good for you. I could gently take the weapon out of his shaking, blood-soaked hand and hold him until he finally believes that he doesn't have to be defined by all the ways the world has hurt him. Then we could ruin the lives of everyone who has ever treated him like he's a monster who doesn't deserve love.
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Astarion has an undying love for the innocent little kisses you give him.
They make him giddy almost, in a way he never thought he'd be able to feel again. He loves that you're drawn to him the second everyone's attention is directed elsewhere. Loves how you always- in that oh-so special way of yours- make sure he's okay with how close you're getting before you lean in and plant a soft little smooch to whatever part of him you're nearest at the time.
(He even loves the way you smile reassuringly when you see something in him that tells you he needs space- sometimes before he himself knows it- and you back away without so much as a sniff. Always patient, and never once disappointed. It's so sweet that it's almost sickening- makes his teeth hurt.)
His knees weaken at the feeling of your lashes against the soft skin of his cheek. Practically buckle whenever you mouth at the corner of his jaw before whispering softly into his ear. Sometimes it's just to tell him you love him, other times it's to make an offhand comment about someone neither of you particularly like. And, how you breathe a laugh so quiet that only he can hear when he responds to whatever you said with an equally hushed quip??
On occasion he'll find the courage to reach out and hold your hand when you're sat together by the fire, and you get this big, dumb smile on your pretty face. Your gratitude comes in the form of kisses- one to each of the knuckles on his offered hand. One. Two. Three. Four. By the fifth one, he can feel a warmth radiating from your flushing face, so hot it rivals the heat from the campfire.
He could go on forever.
When he's lent over a book and you bend down low enough to press your lips to the top of his head and not so subtly inhale the scent of his hair? The same kiss to his forehead that comes every night without fail before you're off to bed? The chaste press to the apple of his cheek as you're passing by, too busy with a particular task to stop and chat? The one between his brows that you let linger just long enough to rid him of the crease that comes with a bout of frustration?
Hells, sometimes you'll simply peck his shoulder in response when he teases you with a nudge mid-banter, and it nearly sends him to the ground. There's just something so… nice about it? The way you're kissing him as a way to express adoration, with nary an expectation to what comes after? Truly just to kiss him, and nothing more??
It'd be maddening,
if he didn't love it so godsdamned much.
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Every single time something has fallen apart in my life, I’ve looked back with gratitude eventually.
I might spend a whole year crying and sleeping and working a part-time job and that’s okay if it’s what I need.
Your body will force you to take a break if you don’t listen to it asking for one. I saw this coming 2 years ago and ignored it. Now I’m 2 years older and realize I just prolonged it.
It’s okay. Really.
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Bg3 brainrot - A scene of the camp swimming in the river in act 1.
Rho and Karlach are able to touch and kiss- however briefly- since the water cools her down enough. Rho catches the tiefling off-guard and pulls her under the water, sharing a tender kiss away from the eyes above.
Kaledia and Astarion sit on a rock ledge, waists still submerged as they look over their companions. The witty banter between them, goading on Wyll and Gale to perform acts of strength in the water. "If you beat the blade, you can eat my boots for lunch!" Astarion teases. "I'll hold you to that, fangs!" The wizard chuckles back.
Gale and Shadowheart versus Wyll and Lae’zel chicken fight. Karlach and Rho join in. They manage to get Kaledia and Astarion to also join but Astarion is the one on her shoulders versus the other women. He is the first to fall and he is very dramatic about it.
Karlach’s playful stare to Wyll as she holds Rho on her shoulders. Their horns get close enough to clash before Lae’zel topples Rho. The gith grabs his horns and turns him just as Gale and Shadowheart manage to reach them. They match in strength and both fall at the same time.
Withers has a fire going as they come back to camp. Rho and Gale get to work on food while everyone else dries off. Astarion hides his boots, just in case Gale tries for them. Shadowheart and Lae'zel bicker about who would've won if they had more competent partners.
#kaledia myst#rho avri#bg3 oc#act 1#astarion#gale#shadowheart#wyll#karlach#laezel#they're all idiots and deserve softness#I love them dearly
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taking care of astarion after cazador's death
no smut, just comfort /// gender-neutral reader/tav
after cazador's deminse, after the spawn leave, once it's just you and your companions again, astarion doesn't speak. it's as if he's in a daze. you're torn between giving him space and leaving him on his own, and wondering if he really needs to not be alone right now.
he's still covered in blood, you'd given him a shirt he pulled on over his head, the grime on his skin soaked through and left it sticking to his skin, it was over his face, in his hair. he didn't make any move to wipe any of it away.
the trek out of the castle, out of the dark, seemed so long. you wondered how he was still standing, how he was dragging his legs. you stay by his side, but did not touch him, you make no move to grab his hand, to sooth him. you hoped walking at his side, matching his pace, conveyed enough. you were here. and you weren't going to touch him until he said it was alright.
you only had one plan you cared about when you finally reached the inn. the others talked amongst themselves, one by one their eyes lingering on astarion, apologising, telling him he did the right thing, that they were proud of him. you watched them start to retreat up to their rooms as you spoke with innkeeper.
once done with your conversation, key in hand, astarion still stood at the foot of the stairs.
"were you waiting for me?" you asked. he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes drifted down, he paused. "i want to take you somewhere. and i know you're tired, i promise it's to help you rest."
he nodded, still mute, you reached out to take his hand, stopped yourself, and instead beckon him to follow you.
you wound through the inn, existing out into a small garden, and entering the building on the other side, guiding astarion through the main door and down the corridors until you found the door that fits the key the innkeeper gave you.
inside was a small, private bath, sunken into the ground like a hot spring. it's nothing that fancy, but it's quiet, and fits it's purpose. you press the key into his hand, carefully.
"i can leave, if you'd like. and you can take all the time you need... or, if you'd rather, i can stay and help you wash. and that's all we'll be doing. i'd be touching you, but it wouldn't be sexual. and if you're not comfortable with that, it's okay," you twisted your head to try and catch his gaze. "would you like me to stay or go? i won't be offended or upset, the choice is yours, and if you'd rather i go i'll be waiting for you upstairs."
he still didn't speak, you wondered if his screams and cries earlier have made his voice hoarse, or if he just can't bring himself too. your hand hovered by his cheek, not touching, but trying to guide his head to turn towards yours, and when he finally does there's wetness in his eyes, the blood high on his cheekbones becoming smudged.
"would you like me to stay?"
his teeth sank into his lip, if they drew blood you'd be unable to tell. he nodded his head.
"would you like to undress yourself, or do you want me to help?"
you saw him shudder, and he stepped back and as he started to remove his clothes you did the same with yours. you wade into the bath, sinking down and sigh as the water washes over your tired muscles.
you turned, and reached out a hand towards him. he took it.
he's silent as you reached into the small basket at the side of the bath, lathering soap in your hands and getting to work, starting with his hands, kneading around his nails, up his arms, his torso, his face.
he's silent as you nudged him to move, knelt up behind him, asked him to tilt his head back, poured water over his head, felt him start to relax as he closed his eyes, running your hands through his hair, feeling as though it's the most intimate action you've ever done with him, despite the multiple nights of passion.
he's still silent when you exited the baths, annoyed that you can't just roll under clean sheets but have to redress yourselves, as you hesitated to follow him into your room, ready to bunk with one of the others, but he took your hand, and then you're both silent as you undress again, crawl under the sheets, letting him reach for you this time, now that he's ready, taking him in your arms, cradling his head to your chest, fingers playing with his hair.
you don't imagine the soft "thank you" that fell from his lips as you both drifted off to sleep.
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honestly the human brain is so small that you *will* forget how much beauty there is out there to experience unless you leave your house every three days. ik its fucked up but i promise its true
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Act 1 - Nightmare
a/n: Someone hug this man
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Astarion stumbled through the woods. Was he running? Hiding? Charging forth into the unknown? All he knew was that he couldn’t stop- it was behind him.
Ungrateful boy!
Cazador’s voice echoed in the darkness. The sound of thudding footsteps closed in- how many were here to take him? Dozens? Hundreds? Were all his false siblings here to exact their jealous revenge? No one escapes Cazador.
A piercing pain ripped through his head. Astarion gripped his hair, ducking behind a nearby tree, “Please…”
I found you.
The air caught in his throat. He pulled at his shirt, chest tightening. Breaths became labored and desperate for air. The bark of the tree felt rough and ragged- it tore through his shirt and scratched his arms.
He’d been thrust from one monster to another. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks. Had he been so terrible in another life that this was his punishment? What did he do to deserve this torment?
You’re coming home. Something touched his shoulder-
In an instant too fast to process, Astarion grabbed his knife and turned- stopping it as it touched his assailant’s neck. A small drop of blood escaped from the contact point.
But he wasn’t in the woods. Astarion was in the circle of bedrolls, white shirt noticeably wet with sweat from his anxiety. Cinders and smoke from the campfire slowly died off, drifting into the wind.
Rho, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, Wyll, and Gale were still sound asleep around them. Kaledia held up her hands, shallow breaths opposing his ragged, pained ones. Her blood faintly dripped down her chest and stained her faded blue top.
One heartbeat.
Two heartbeats.
She took the pause to study her companion’s face. There was a feral look in his eyes, red irritation creeping over the white. Had he been crying? Further assessment revealed the truth- his surviving anger an attempt to hide his genuine fear.
Kaledia gently placed her hands over the knife’s handle, over his death-grip. Her motions were slow and steady- she didn’t want to startle him. His pale skin seemed more scarily white than before. A slight tremble could be felt as she lowered the weapon.
“You were thrashing about and crying,” Her voice was quiet to not wake the others, “If you kicked any stray rocks I thought you’d alert the others.”
“… I’m sure we wouldn’t notice if a rock dashed Gale’s face.” Astarion put the knife away, wiping any excess tears in an attempt to mask his pain, “Go to sleep, Kay.”
“You’re not sleeping well.”
“What’s it to you how I spend my nights?”
“Fighting enemies tends to go haywire when one is sleep-deprived.” She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
The elf shook his head, “I’m fine darling, truly. Go back to sleep.” He didn’t turn away from her, senses still on edge from his nightmare.
She sighed, standing up, “Will you walk with me?”
“At this hour?”
“You didn’t mind midnight strolls before,” a playful smile.
He rolled his eyes, pushing himself up to his feet. She led him to the other side of camp, away from the other’s sleeping bodies and listening ears.
… Why was he going along with this? What if she had been bribed by Cazador? Was this all a ploy to get him away from the others? The supply tents were near the treeline, perfect for an ambush to any unsuspecting fool. Astarion’s ears were perked up, posture rigid, waiting for any opportunity to defend himself should she pose a threat.
The bard opened the flap to her tent and settled herself inside. All her instruments were packed neatly in cases- her belongings carefully stored in special piles. A waft of vanilla rose to his senses- something about it felt comforting in a strange way. She motioned to him, allowing him to sit down before she closed the flap up again.
Kaledia propped herself up against the pillows and travel chest. She opened her arms, “If you’ll let me, I’ll keep watch tonight.”
Astarion felt frozen in place. On his knees, he stared at her offer. Was this a trap? There were splinters scattered about from chopping wood and fixing her instruments- what if she drove it through his chest? Even if he did accept, what if she changed her mind? What did she want from him to warrant such tenderness?
“I promise I won’t kick you out if you refuse,” Her voice soft, only for them in this tent. Was that concern in her eyes? “You look exhausted. Rho taught me some magic for unwelcome dreams.”
Astarion’s eyes shifted to watch Kaledia’s hand emit a soft golden glow. “You… want to tuck me in and magic all my worries away?” A chuckle, an attempt at stability, but his eyes betrayed his uncomposed nature. “Really, darling, what kind of desperate fool do you take me for.”
“You’re no fool, Starlight,” She sat up, holding out her hand for him to take, “But even you deserve a chance at peace.”
“You know nothing of what I deserve, what I’ve done.”
“True,” A kind smile, “But even if you were someone terrible before… everyone deserves an opportunity at a second chance.”
He hesitated a moment, before placing his hand in hers. Everything in his mind screamed at him to leave, to run. Kaledia gently pulled him towards her, leaning back against the pillow and travel chest. His head found rest nestled in the crook of her neck and shoulder.
She felt warm. He wrapped his arms around her torso… this wasn’t like his previous targets. Two hundred years of using his body to manipulate others. Astarion didn’t know how to act, how to be gentle or physical with someone without sex. Without it being for someone else’s gain.
Kaledia leaned her head down to rest on his. The screaming in his head stopped. Everything fell silent to the sounds of the night.
“I could bite you.” Astarion’s hands trembled.
“I trust you not to.”
“I could stab you after you fall asleep.”
“I trust you not to.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I wish you to have a peaceful sleep,” Kaledia raised her hand, gold again glowing, “May I?”
He braced himself, “You may.”
Kaledia’s spare arm held Astarion close while the one glowing began playing with his hair. Magic slowly drifted from her touches and ruffles of each grey strand. Her fingernails grazed his scalp, tracing unseen shapes.
Whatever sensation this was, Astarion didn’t want it to stop. Could she really want nothing from him? Freely giving tenderness out to whoever needed it? Where was she when he needed saving all those centuries ago?
Golden waves replaced the images and scenes haunting him. The fear of his master finding him, wherever he was now, slowly dissipated.
For the first time since he changed, Astarion slept peacefully.
#kaledia myst#astarion#bg3 oc#im feral for these two idiots#rho is busy romancing karlach#i just want them all to be soft and gentle and know that they're loved#is that too much to ask
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Astarion Romance Headcanons 🥀
SFW:
Side glances when you're besides him
Full on staring when you're not
Immediately looking away when you catch him
"You know the way he looks at you, don't you, soldier?"
His pinky itching towards yours when you're walking, wanting to hold your hand but unsure because, is it too much? Will you reject him?
His hands scrunching up your shirt tightly whenever you hug. He's always the last to let go.
You hold on longer and longer each time because he doesn't want to let go.
His kisses are tender and needy.
He likes the warmth of your hands.
Thinking of what tones will suit your perfume the best. He'll gift it to you after all this is over.
He'll sew the holes or tears in your clothes over the night and pretend he doesn't know what happened next morning.
When you move to kiss his cheek he will grimace in annoyance but lean in as you do it.
"Be careful around Astarion, (Tav). He's not serious about you.", the others will warn you. And Astarion will worry you'll heed their words more than his so he'll do so much to prove his love to you, not knowing that you already trust him (even if that is an objectively stupid thing to do lmao).
He started sleeping next to you from the moment you had sex but ever since you've entered the shadowlands, he ends up cuddling in the middle of the night. He misses the sun.
He likes kissing the palm of your hand or its back.
Likes to pack your bag before you leave camp.
"No one's ever going to love me like that again."
Ever since you told him that there's more to him than just beauty and sex, that he's hilarious, for instance, he finds ways to make you laugh. He loves it. He's started being a lot more sarcastic and makes more jokes just to hear your laughter. He'll never admit it, of course. Other than maybe when it's only you two.
Doesn't believe he will be able to love again if you let go of him.
"Don't be so nice to me." he says with round, needy and pleading eyes.
Thinking of ways he can show others you're together so others know you're not available.
Hiding his jealousy, terribly.
He will rip the throat out of anyone with malicious intent towards you.
"I will wait the whole of my life for you, Astarion." He doesn't believe it at first, but the longer you go on without sex the safer he feels and the more he wants you.
NSFW:
He sometimes cries silently at night, wishing he could make love to you without it feeling so tainted. He wants it so badly, but his past experience prohibits it. The pain of wanting something and being unable to have it only because of himself is too much. He blames himself too sometimes. Wishing he could give you more.
"I don't mind waiting.", you'd say.
"I do. I can't have you, no matter how much I want you.", he'd say.
When you cuddle him sensing he's upset, he will bury his face in your neck to hide his tears. The smell of you is comforting.
Needing you everytime you're tender with him.
Getting aroused when you hug during a kiss.
Wanting to kiss your skin all over, to make you cry from pleasure as you bury your face in his neck.
Wanting you to hold on to him for dear life as you climax.
When he's finally comfortable enough and takes charge of his own sexuality, he'll be so needy.
Realising that the two nights he had sex with you were nothing compared to how good making love to you feels.
When you give up all control to him, letting him do to you as he wants, the pleasure is almost too much bear. The power he feels is palpable and knowing it is you who trusts him so much will drive him near mad.
He will lose control many times so you have a safe word.
You both think of the stupidest word possible as a safe word. Something that makes you both laugh when it's used.
He likes over stimulating you, making you beg and he'll kiss you to calm you.
"It's okay, you can do it, darling.", he'll say stroking you even further and kissing your tears.
"Does that feel good, my love?"
The more you beg the more he loves it.
He likes playing with your hands, holding them in his, touching your fingers, comparing them to his while you rest on his chest, still warm from him being inside of you.
Resting his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat.
Staring at your face and body intently. Taking in every little reaction you make and replaying them over in his head throughout the day.
Staring at you longingly when you're both with the squad, failing terribly at focusing in battle or conversation.
Getting aroused when you're covered in blood.
Seeing you fighting, in general, turns him on. The smell of your sweat, your rapid heart beat, the way your body moves, all of it now only reminds him of making love to you.
Telling you to say his name whenever he's feeling good and you'll chant it as you cum. He loves how it sounds from your lips.
Resting his forehead against yours as he's close to cumming.
"Look at me.", he'll command you.
He likes when your hands rake his hair, pull his hair, tug it whatever. That slight bit of pain arouses him. Better yet, if you bury your nails into his skin.
He likes to look at you falling asleep. It's such a gentle thing. How can someone so strong otherwise be so soft around him? Why him? Why did someone like you choose someone like him? He can't believe he has you.
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Act 2 - Confessions of a Lost Boy
a/n: yeah i romanced Astarion what of it? Kaledia is my super-graphic-ultra-modern girl bard Durge and Rhododendron (Rho) is my you-dumb-bastards druid Tav. more to come because i'm obsessed.
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Kaledia walked along the shoreline at the edge of the moonlight barrier. The Last Light Inn provided enough space for one to walk quietly, lost in thought. Away from the noise of panic and battle tactics.
Water graced her feet, drawing her to take a step. Kaledia obeyed its beckoning, shedding her shoes and armor. She undid her braids- Rho will have a fit about that later- and walked into the water just enough to cover her ankles. The hem of her pants just barely skimmed the surface. A gentle breeze toyed with her hair, making it flow like a cape behind her.
Kill the cleric. Imagine the beauty in the bloodshed that will descend!
The bard shuddered, crossing her arms. The violent thoughts still plagued her mind. As if she needed more unwanted presences. She shook her head, forcing the Urge from her mind.
Set every building in this cursed place ablaze. Rhododendron will never lift that curse- might as well make these abandoned places artful masterpieces of ash and bone.
With a scrunch of her nose, she shook her head again. Kaledia began quietly humming, tracing her feet in the water. Composing songs and ballads always managed to calm her down- this time being no different.
Tiny wisps of purple and pink escaped her fingertips and Kaledia conducted the air. If a bystander listened close enough, they could make out a faint tune. The bard’s eyes glazed over, feet dancing in steps to match the rhythm of her new piece. One arm stayed close to her chest while the other continued its maestro guidance.
“Enjoying yourself?”
The suddenness of the voice shocked her out of her daze. Whatever music one could hear was gone in an instant- joining the wind brushing past. Her eyes met Astarion’s- his shoes and armor discarded beside hers in the sand. His feet joined hers in the water.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone out here. Aren’t you cold?”
He chuckled, “I’m always cold, darling.”
“Cute, but what brings you by? I thought you were reading.”
“There’s too much chatter among the others. I can’t think with all that racket up there.” Astarion’s face softened as he continued, “But now I’m down here with you... and… I think we need to talk.”
He hates you.
“What’s wrong?” She turned to face him, hoping to any divine that her face wouldn’t betray her fear. Another gust of wind picked her hair up, flowing it delicately behind her.
“Listen, I… had a plan." A puzzled look, but he continued, " A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.” His smile attempted to make light of his words, but his eyes betrayed his sorrows, “All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was… not fall for you. Which is where my nice, simple plan… fell apart.”
Kaledia kept silent, taking in what he was confessing. See? None of it was real.
“It was… instinctive. 200 years a slave, using my body to bring targets back to him… old habits die hard in the face of uncertain survival.” His breath was shaky- was that a tear in his eye?, “I just… feel awful. You’re incredible. You’ve done amazing things since the crash, bringing me along for the ride. You’ve fallen for a façade and I… I want this… I want us to be real.” His hands were trembling ever so slightly.
There was heartbeats of silence. Had he fucked this up? Astarion held his breath unconsciously, mind racing and waiting for any response. A slap. A scream. Hells, even if she drove a spike through his chest he wouldn’t blame her rage. All he’d done was use her since the tadpole invaded his body. Was that what he’d become- an invasion to her body?
Her next words surprised him.
“Starlight, I’ve always cared for you.” His nickname on her tongue always sounded like honey. Kaledia took a step, closing the distance between them.
Tears brimmed in his eyes, a quiet whisper breathed out, “Really?”
She closed her eyes. A psionic pulse encapsulated their small space on the beach. Astarion felt their adventures up to this point rush to the forefront of his memory. Their first meeting at the crash site, grabbing arms so they didn’t fall into the hole in the spider’s cave, the entirety of the temple of Selune, the tiefling kids in the Grove, the tiefling party… their first time as they snuck away from camp. In each wave of memory, all he could feel was wonder and love. From her perspective, he’s always been Astarion- not just a spawn.
“It’s always you, my love.” Kaledia opened her eyes, the psionic wave dissipating. “It’s never been about looks or what you can do for me.”
Astarion’s voice caught in his throat, unable to shake the anxiety he now found himself in. This was all new territory… was such love able to be given to someone like him? He gingerly held out his hand, waiting to see what she would do.
Please take it.
She grasped his hand, brining it up to her lips. A gentle kiss grazed his fingers before she rested his palm on her cheek. Kaledia visibly relaxed at his touch, leaning into his palm.
“May I hug you?” Her amethyst eyes looked up. He knew he could say no and she wouldn’t think less of him for it.
He nodded silently in response, a tear escaping down his cheek.
“You don’t have to lick love off of knives, Astarion.” A gentle whisper in his ear, “Love can be freely given, without anything expected in return.”
His breath hitched, arms delicately holding her close. She could pull away if she wanted- could still escape and save herself from the burden of loving such a lost boy. Who are you without Cazador? Are you worthy of love in this void of lost identity? Who is Astarion, and does he deserve what others are willing to give? After everything you’ve done? After who you’ve done?
A sudden wave from the lake lurched on the couple. The water was so cold, Kaledia shrieked and lost her balance. Astarion tried to catch her, but fell beside her into the water. They were soaked, head to toe.
Kaledia’s breath gasped, sitting up in the frigid water. She wiped algae from her eyes and pulled her hair back from her face. Astarion sat up beside her, spitting more water from his mouth.
The absurdity of it all… she couldn’t help but laugh. He joined in, realizing she wasn’t laughing at him. After helping each other stand up, she brought his face close. Their soaked foreheads touched in another tender moment.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Hand in dripping wet hand, they began their walk back up the hill to the Inn.
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Shadowheart elbowed Rho in the ribs, “What was that for?”
The drow winced before ducking back under cover. She snuck another peek at the shore before responding, “I got tired of waiting.”
“They’ve been fucking for weeks!” A harsh whisper.
“Yeah, but they just now fell in love.” Rho massaged her ribs, “Sometimes a good cold shower snaps people out of their anxiety spirals.”
#kaledia myst#rho avri#bg3 oc#bg3#astarion#shadowheart#i love them okay#act 2#they're my BABIES and i LOVE THEM#theyre so STUPID and DUMBASSES and theyre all IN LOVE
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TP: Let Us Be Here
a/n: twilight princess link and iris finally say the words
“I promise it didn’t go to the bone,” Iris held her arm while Link gripped her wrist.
He didn’t respond, instead his jaw tightening in an attempt to force out his anxiety. The bandage roll he tightly wound around the gash in her palm and up her arm took all his focus. Their breaths were visible in this temperature but his seemed more labored- wet cliffsides along Lake Hylia grew surprisingly cold in this night air. The fire in their cave hideout providing moderate light, but mild warmth.
Shad had combined the information the Owls had about the Sky people, leading them to the lake for takeoff. A thunderstorm combined with delayed repairs had unfortunately postponed the heroes’ launch. The stone beneath them gathered water and mud from their soaked supplies and bodies; drenched and torn armor was shed for the night.
Which leads to the current predicament… Prior to finding shelter from the storm, bulblins had surrounded them. Iris hadn’t realized one of the downed bulblins wasn’t dead, which led to a lucky strike. After fixing her wounds, Link promised to mend the tears her armor had gathered.
“Your turn,” Iris flexed her bandage, a smile on her face, “I know the arrow that grazed your shoulder couldn’t have been pleasant.”
He smiled, peeling off his shirt and offering her the bandage roll. She never realized just how many marks, cuts, scars dotted his body like constellations in the night sky. He didn’t have this many when they ventured into Death Mountain. Had the journey been that cruel?
“Not all of them are from battle,” Link began pointing to different scars as if her thoughts were loud enough to hear, “This one’s from the ranch. One of the goats got tangled in a briar bush and thrashed about when I helped it.”
“This one?” Iris tapped his left arm.
“Ah, that’s from one of those plants in Faron. Coro fixed it up when I bought lantern oil.”
“Here?”
“Probably when the Elder grabbed me in the sumo match. There’s a couple more of those on my back.” He shifted for her to see better, “They’re truly tough as stone. Hylian skin’s no match, haha.”
Iris chuckled, removing her shirt to point at a similar set of scarring, “When we got to that room, I remember how tight their grip felt around my arm.”
“You didn’t tell me it made a mark!” He turned, instinctively grabbing her arm.
“I didn’t know about all these scars on you, Mr. Hero.” A playful laugh, “I’m still here, nothing to worry about.”
“I’ll bear any scar if it means you’re safe.” His voice a wavering whisper. Iris noticed that his gaze was no longer on her arm, but on her abdomen. The scar from that attack in the Water Temple still prominently displayed like a badge of honor.
She placed her hand in her lap, an attempt to block it from him, “You shouldn’t have to.”
“It’s so dangerous out there… anything could happen and I… I get thrown back to that day…” His shirt in one hand, the other guiding her touch to his heart, “Feel my scars and callouses. All these remnants of terror and survival still carried on my body, my soul.”
Her breath hitched as her cold hand felt his warmth. His fingers tightened around her hand, as if she’d disappear if he let go. She knew he could take it: the fighting, the adventuring, the survival by grit alone. Didn’t he know she could stand with him in it? What else did she have left to prove after all the battles they’d fought? Didn’t he-
“Feel how my heart beats for you.”
Everything in Iris’ head stopped. He’s scared because he loves you.
“I have loved you since we fought by Kakariko.” Both hands held hers in place, “I know you are so strong, so capable, so kind... I genuinely think I would lose my mind if you died. If you hadn’t turned around right then, I-” He choked, eyes forced shut with tears escaping. “And then back in the temple…”
Both of you should’ve died. “It was scary thinking I’d never see you again.” Iris shifted her hand to interlock their fingers. “I can’t imagine how you felt seeing me there. This journey has been long and difficult. Hopefully it’s over soon.”
A small glimmer of hope for the end. Goddess, how much longer was their sanity required? How much longer could their mental fortitude stand against these repeated assaults? How much longer before their bodies gave out under the swords and attacks of monsters no one should see?
“It’s rough and harsh out there. Tomorrow we need to be heroes again, steeling ourselves for death and blood.” Link kissed Iris’ newly bandaged palm. “I want to be selfish for only one night. I want to forget how to be a survivor and only be warm.”
Iris had a somber sort of love behind her eyes. She moved her hand to his cheek, letting her thumb wipe away the tears. Link let out a breath, melting into her touch, leaning in until their foreheads pressed together.
“In here, for a few hours until daylight, let us be gentle,” His voice was barely a whisper, only for them to hear. He kissed her forehead, “…Kind,” a kiss on her cheek, “…loving.”
Link’s lips hovered over hers for a second before Iris pulled him close. Arms wrapped around her waist, softly pulling her forward until she lay on top of him. Her lips trailed kisses, roaming his face. The noise that escaped his throat when she kissed his neck was heavenly. Another day she would sink her teeth in, leave marks on what was hers. Another day she’d ask him to do the same.
Link held Iris tightly against him, wishing this moment to last. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her voice like music in his ears.
The dying fire gave just enough light for her to see his bright blue eyes contrasting his flushed face. His chest rose and fell with each attempt to slow his breath. His hand came up, cradling her head against him while he rolled them over.
Please, goddess, delay the sun. Let us be here longer.
No temples. No monsters. No destiny.
Let us be human. Let us be in love.
#iris#TP Link#twilight princess#legend of zelda oc#they're both so stupid#of course you love each other ya idiots#be gentle for one night and remember what its like to love and be loved#put away your swords for one night#they've had many encounters where they shouldve died like that trauma and fear catches up to you
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