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aeritheme · 5 months

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aeri reviews “7’sCarlet”

—DISCLAIMER—

whatever you read in this post, take it as a personal opinion of a single individual. in other words, only you can form your own conclusion about what you thought of this game. also, this might look like an informal review more than anything (or rant bruv), so there’s that lol

images used in this post came from their official website (as a promotion) or their official X account

now that’s all said, i’ll get started:

—DESCRIBE WHAT THE GAME’S ABOUT—

so there’s our main character named ichiko hanamaki who’s wondering where her older brother— and i squinted suspiciously, yes— could be as he disappeared one year ago— yes, you read that right, like why did it take so long— when he went to a place called okunezato and her childhood friend slash best friend named hino kagutsuchi proposed that they should investigate behind it, and thus begins a premise of mystery and questions— a scooby-doo otome, finally?

—INCOMING SPOILERS AHEAD—

—HINO KAGUTSUCHI—

hino, oh hino— another childhood friend, and why yes, i did had red laser eyes on this dude from the beginning because i couldn’t count on fingers how many times have childhood friends acted trashy towards MC? well, if you played long enough, you can sympathize with me, ig?

but surprise, surprise— he’s alright, fine, sane, and normal LI— if you’re thinking, “eh, maybe he’s an ass towards MC”, but nope, i couldn’t call that ass since he’s just bantering towards ichiko, and funny asf too in other routes, especially his banters with isora— but unfortunately, i didn’t feel anything special with this route, i was like, “yeah, this is mid”

—ISORA AMARI—

why? i dunno, maybe because no spicy plot reveal yet or he’s not my choice on ichiko or those two mashed reasons altogether lol

and him being inconsistent in other routes is just so jarring??

this dude— like this dude— i really want to finish this route quick because it’s insufferable

now, now, about the “insufferable” word that i used, it’s not that bad as you think— like there’s countless of garbage you can think of that’s trashier than this dude pls this dude’s not at least harming ichiko in every route possible— unlike poyo-poyo, tomomori, yang, sanan, toma, etc. coughs, but why though?

simple: i’m not fan of his character— weeps, when will you voice a cold and blunt LI again, tetsu-kaki— his backstory is so?? i had enough of a childhood friend plot again, like tf— and i’m not sold on why he’s a controlling and possessive freak with anger issues all of a sudden— it doesn’t make any sense— i mean, maybe you can argue that he lost his father and he saw their restaurant fall apart ig, but i’m not sold lol— he feels like a lifeless food that you can get in the convenience store— which i find ironic since he’s a chef lol

a totally forgettable trash LI, that’s for sure

—TOA KUSHINADA—

an LI where he had a reverse charm to him? yes, baby, bring it on!

yes, he’s that kind of LI— and i’m shocked that happened because i never saw that coming— at all

he’s this dude that’s like everyone and their moms bullies in school or whatever place there is because he’s a weirdo in their eyes— socially awkward, scrawny, clumsy, and maybe unattractive to their eyes, again, charismatic aura is also a game changer in terms of becoming a famous person besides being attractive— and surprise, surprise, who would’ve thought the loser is an idol— yes, you read that right

i was also like ichiko’s reaction— i couldn’t believe it

i love his backstory and how his good experience with ichiko just erased the bad experiences he’d been through with his bullies and that actually helped him to be a better person, in his own will

... and yeah, about the true route— ahaha, let’s pretend this didn’t happen, yeah?

what it feels like to play the true route if you’re a toa fan:

—SOSUKE TATEHIRA—

ngl, i’m not interested in him, although his appearance nailed exactly what’s attractive in my book— glasses, raven hair, and oceanic blue eyes lol— i dunno why

but as i went with his route, i became interested— i siked myself there for a moment lmfao

he also has a reverse charm to him, not exactly too gap like toa’s but it’s present there— in the general route, he’s all aloof— you can even describe him as a jerk, but i believe this is just him being logical, and that’s not a bad thing when he first met ichiko— and talks like a walking encyclopedia lol and it turns out that he must be all that busybody to the point he never had experienced fun in his life— which at first, i find ridiculous ngl, but looking at his backstory, it makes sense, really— and ichiko going through his life made his world upside down— su-weet lol

—YUZUKI MURAKUMO—

i think newcomers would 100% think that he’s an ass at the beginning, and tbf, i agree with it lol

he’s much closed off more than sosuke, like at least sosuke instantly warmed up with everyone, but what about yuzuki? he remains an enigma, truly making me curious about what goes on with this dude

well, ofc, as expected, it turns out that he cares a lot about things more than what meets the eye— his backstory is fantastic as well— he guards his heart well, but ichiko succeeded in trespassing that lol

the amount of times he goes “HUH??” with ichiko’s words or action is so hilarious— daaaawg

yuzuki’s sealed it for me as my favorite 7’sCarlet LI thanks to his BE#3, well, it’s more like a continuation of NE, or an alt NE—

PLS I FIND IT HOT THAT HE LOST CONTROL OF HIMSELF SINCE HE BECAME A REVENANT WHILE ICHIKO’S FINE WITH THAT AS LONG AS IT’S HIM 🥵🌶️

PLS HE WAS SO DOWN BAD WITH ICHIKO

i want this ending too since both of them were shish-kebabed in the hands of ensepulchers while hugging each other— it’s better than ichiko herself would survive alone without her LI </3

—SECRET ROUTE—

unfortunately, i can’t paste the secret route’s image here because duh, a secret’s supposed to be a secret lol

i’ve already raised an eyebrow towards ichiko’s motivations of going to okuzenato, and knowing how oniichan mostly had an infamous reputation in this niche genre, i was bracing myself to remove my brain in case brain-dead stuff happens— which to my shock, that didn’t happen, or it wasn’t bad, and i find it good

still, i won’t blame others if they go full: “wtf???” at this route since there are still moments that would go people like (myself included):

but i’m a fan of plot where a character is an immortal being and then develops feelings for someone— in the case of this game, others might criticize its writing, and i don’t exactly blame them because it feels like it’s rushed, well, i just think it’s all a flashback to the secret route’s perspective since secret’s explaining to ichiko, not exactly diving into the past fully

i still think it’s pretty neat that the true route foreshadows this one

the ending’s so bittersweet, and realistically, people would find ichiko and the secret route weird (or even immoral) to be together since she knew the secret route as her oniichan ever since she was a kid, plus ichiko would move on to hino as her romantic interest instead— even the secret route relied on hino to take good care of her hihi—

but there’s hint that secret route might be coming back, like it’s up to our interpretation ig

—SYSTEM—

since this is a visual novel, of course, choosing choices is the staple gameplay of it, but i’d like to point out the beautiful background/s since there were times that it was dynamic and that sound effect whenever there’s revelation unfolding makes me jump ngl lol

—OVERALL THOUGHTS—

ichiko might be criticized of “wtf girl??”, but i’d say she’s not that bad as what people tend to say (just take their opinion with a grain of salt, ALWAYS), but i think she shines the most with hino, sosuke and yuzuki’s route because she’s funny and has comebacks of wits lol

the game’s really good at foreshadowing what would happen in the next route, like a lot of it, if you pay attention

however, i still find how the game is written odd, that’s all i have to say

not a smooth experience, that’s for sure, but i didn’t regret playing this game even though it’s not the very best out there since i finally satiated my curiosity about it— and shinichiro miki and showtaro morikubo and me and my rotted braincells thinking of only hakuoki thoughts lmao

—LI RANK OF MY CHOICE—

👑 YUZUKI 👑

🥈 SECRET ROUTE

🥉 SOSUKE

4️⃣ TOA

5️⃣ HINO

💩 ISORA 💩

—RATING—

plot: 3.5/5

characters: 4/5

overall: 4/5

#7'scarlet #otome #otome review #spoilers #aeri reviews

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pastshadows · 2 months

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Shadows of the Past

Chapter 9: Midnight Masquerade

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.8K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

Your eyes creep open when you hear the softly shutting door. Pushing yourself up, you smile while watching Astarion remove his coat, unbutton his chemise, and place it aside as shadows from the withering fire greet his pristine ivory skin.

“You’re gawking.” Astarion tsks with an endearing, lop-sided smile.

“Yes,” you smirk, drawing your lower lip between your teeth, “I am. Please continue undressing until you're bare.”

“Bold tonight, darling. Very bold.” He grins while removing his trousers and sits beside you on the bed, kissing your cheek, “I’m sorry I woke you. It seems I am out of practice.”

You give him an inquiring once over, “How did hunting go?”

No. Not out of practice. Hungry.

Astarion groans, rubbing his face, “Either I am truly not as subtle as I believe myself to be, or you know me exceptionally well.”

“A bit of this and a bit of that. Would you like to dine together?”

Astarion sweeps some stray strands of your hair behind your ear. His finger trails over your jaw and down your arm, “I can go a few more days.”

Rolling your eyes with a huff, you jostle him, “Foolish man.”

Astarion pulls you in and wraps his arm around your waist, pinning your back against his chest. You gasp as the temperature contrast sends shivers rocketing like a bolt of electricity down your spine while pulling your hair to the side and bearing your neck to him.

He kisses your shoulder, fingers ghosting up your stomach and between your breasts, “You like it when I feed on you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” your voice quivers with excited anticipation.

“Why is that?”

For a moment, you feel shy and become annoyed at yourself. You were never shy, not in general and certainly not with him. You’ve always been confident and unashamed - until he left.

“You know why.”

He mumbles against your neck, “I want to hear you say it.”

“It’s intimate - for me, at least.” You pause to quell the wave of embarrassment that heats your face. “It arouses me.”

“There’s my girl.” Astarion coos, pulling you tightly against him to hold you steady, “Ready?”

Astarion’s silken lips slide over your neck as he searches for the vein. He’s quick when he bites, so the sharp sting of his fangs puncturing the supple skin of your neck dulls to an icy throb promptly, and he draws liquid life leisurely in deliberate increments. Such an odd feeling, like being split in half; one part of you is corporeal while the other is a peaceful rain, drizzling and scattering through his veins as your souls intertwine, welcoming each other home. You relax into him with a sigh, and he groans against your neck blissfully.

You’re pleasantly lightheaded when you feel Astarion buck his hips, pressing his erection against your back, and he removes his fangs from you with care. His tongue flits against your skin to catch any residual blood as his thumb traces the contour of your breast.

“Delectable, as always,” he purrs near your ear, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you breathe huskily.

“It’s intimate for me, too,” he whispers, guiding your eyes to him gently. The scarlet pools shimmer as if made from stardust, immersing you in the cosmos, “Only with you.”

“And arousing?” You giggle, the faintness loosening your tongue.

He smirks and grinds his hard length against you, “Exceptionally. I thought that was obvious.”

You grin, “I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Lippy as well as bold tonight.” Astarion sucks on your lower lip, “I want to hear you cry my name.”

Hells. Yes. Yes, please.

He teases your nipples into peaks and sweeps the pads of his fingers against the sensitive tips, making your body twitch. Heat rushes and swells between your thighs as your heart rate climbs, seemingly skipping beats. Astarion’s fingers brush down your stomach to your hips, guiding them in little rolls against himself, and he growls low in his chest. His kiss is insistent and eager, tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate zeal that makes your core clench involuntarily.

Your ability to reason is quickly deteriorating, siphoned away as he dominates your senses. His fingers tentatively whisper over your sex, and your hips jerk up toward his hands, beseeching him for relief.

“Good Gods, you’re beautiful,” his voice husky and rich. “You’re wet.”

Be bold.

“Astarion,” you pant barely above a whisper, batting your eyelashes at him, “I’m soaked, nigh on dripping.”

“Yes, my sweet,” a corner of his mouth lifts in a smug smirk. “Look down. You have made quite a mess of my lap.”

Astarion’s fingers find your chin, and he gently directs your gaze down. Evidence of your arousal shines sleekly on his legs.

Your cheeks feel feverish, but you shore up your resolve to be brave, be you, “I’m not sorry.”

“Nor should you be. The way your body responds to me is unparalleled praise. I adore it.”

You watch as his fingers part your folds, easing the fiery heat between your legs. You sigh with a shaky breath, all your nerves humming, and your body trembles with the potency of your longing. Slipping your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, you silently implore him to keep sinking you into serenity.

Astarion rubs languid circles around the border of your aching clit, causing your body to shudder with delight and your hips to buck viscerally, matching his movements. You stifle a moan as he rubs and sweeps his fingers against your sensitive bud, swollen with need, making you spasm, yearning to be filled. Gods, you’re a convulsing mess in his lap, writhing under his touch.

“You want to be filled by me.” Astarion growls provocatively, his chest rumbling. It’s not a question and doesn’t require an answer. He is simply stating a fact. “I want to taste your desire. May I?”

“Yes,” you whimper, a plea upon your lips.

“Can I trust you not to scream?”

Any reserve or shyness you might have had has been devoured by the untamed wildfire of lust sweeping through you, a riptide made of flame. “Probably not,” you admit as your body jerks, muscles tensing as the tension starts to coil and pool in your belly.

Astarion giggles and tosses a pillow at you with a cunning smile, “Can I at least trust you to scream into that?”

You groan as he parades light kisses down your stomach, nipping your hip gently. Astarion parts your legs, his tongue running down the sensitive skin of your inner thigh while he places it over his shoulder. His fingers glide through your folds, coating them slick with your need. Astarion moans as his tongue divides your folds, and he laps at your aching clit with long and slow strokes. Your back arches off the bed with a hasty inhale, and you bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out.

His fingers tease your entrance, and your hips angle, appealing him to take you. He sinks them in, working you open and allowing your body time to adjust until he’s knuckle-deep. He’s inside you. Gods, he’s inside you, and it’s surreal. The pressure is heavenly, and you squirm, whimpering and sputtering his name in adoration, losing your composure. Astarion groans deep and sonorant, and it vibrates your sensitive pearl. His tongue pulses in an exquisite rhythm that numbs your mind while the tips of his fingers sweep over your G-spot with every perfectly orchestrated pump. Your lewd moans and whimpers are a sinful symphony that only he can orchestrate.

As the tension builds, your fingers clutch his hair as he drives you toward your crest. “Astarion…” Your eyes close as your pleasure increases. The pitch of your voice rising higher and higher, every muscle in your body taught, “Fuck! Astarion.”

Without missing a beat, he grabs the pillow by your hip and chucks it at you. You grasp that damn pillow like it might keep you afloat in this sea of pleasure you’re downing in. His lips envelop your clit, gently sucking, and he swallows your ecstasy with a hedonistic, contralto moan that strums your sensitive flesh. His scarlet eyes open and watch, captivated by you through dark lashes. You gaze into them as your euphoria crests over the edge, and you cry his name into the pillow, shuddering and contracting around him so strongly and violently that you forget how to breathe.

Astarion holds you firmly in place as he entices every shockwave and spasm out of you, releasing you when you’re panting his name, all but begging for mercy.

“Positively mouthwatering, my love,” he coos, kissing your flushed cheek as you try to collect yourself and catch the breath he stole from you.

You sputter nonsensically in reply as Astarion lays back with a contented sigh, drawing you close and guiding your head to his chest. His fingers brush through your hair, massaging your scalp affectionately. Your eyelashes flutter as you watch his erection twitch. Gods, you long for the heady taste of him so much that it makes you salivate at the notion, and you swallow hard.

“Astarion-” You start and trail off, unsure how to pose the question or even if you should, but you want it so badly it makes your desire ignite anew.

He requested I stop being overly gentle with him. I don’t know how, but I must try.

He looks at you with a cocked brow, follows your line of sight, and laughs, “Gawking again, are you? Did no one ever teach you it’s rude to stare?”

How could I not stare? Idiot.

“I, uh,” your voice is small, unsure, and so low that it would be impossible for anyone but him to hear. “I would like to do more than gawk - if you’re interested.”

“Oh,” he props himself up, “And what exactly would you like to do?”

You give him a sultry, smouldering gaze, biting your lower lip.

Comprehension overtakes his features, and he grins boyishly handsome. “I’m interested.” Astarion purrs, smoky and sensual, “Very interested. I would like to try.”

“Stop if you need to,” you murmur, kissing his forehead.

“I will.” He nods, “You have my word.”

He shudders as you place long, drawn-out kisses down his chest and over the chiselled muscles of his stomach until you’re in position. You wait for his approving nod and glide your flat tongue up his shaft before taking him in your mouth. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip. You relish his taste, the salt of his skin, and Hells, you will drink down everything he gives you. He tenderly sweeps your hair back, holding it out of your face, and you gaze up at him through hooded, seductive eyes.

Astarion watches raptly, mouth parted in pleasure, and your heart palpates, prancing in your chest. You suck, hollowing your cheeks around his cock, and his head lolls back with a groan. “Good Gods,” he murmurs, his fingers twitching and curling into your hair.

You let him guide the pace, and he urges you on as you bob your head, lips gliding down his hard length as he encourages you to take him deeper and deeper. “That’s it,” he pants his praises, watching himself disappear into your mouth, “Just like that.”

Your clit throbs, core clenching, at the sight of him. His face is twisted in pleasure, sweat glistening on the planes of his chest as it rises and falls rapidly. All for you. It takes everything you have not to straddle him and beg him to claim you.

Hells, he’s a sight to behold.

His head falls back, he moans loudly, and Gods, you can’t help but moan repeatedly in response.

His fingers in your hair quiver, his breath hitches in his throat, and his cock twitches on your tongue. “Love,” he whimpers with a shaky pant, “Fuck. You’re going to make me come.”

His hips jerk, cock pulses, and he cries and sputters your name as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow every last drop with unadulterated greed.

“Mouthwatering, as always, love,” you taunt him with his words and a wry grin while licking your red, swollen lips. “I think you were louder than me. You should have used the pillow.”

His chest heaves, and he laughs, “You’re something else, you know that? That was…” His mouth hangs open, and he shakes his head with a grin, “You have left me speechless, my dear. I have no words.”

You giggle, his praise making your heart flutter, “Earth-shattering? Realm-ending? Devastatingly satisfying?”

Astarion pulls you atop him and kisses you deeply while pulling the blankets up to keep you warm, “All of that and more.”

You touch his temple, “And you’re okay up here?”

“I’m much more than okay,” he beams. His fangs glint in the firelight in plain view. He does not need to hide them from you. Astarion takes your hand and kisses the tip of your finger previously held to his temple. “I’m happy.”

With the tips of his ears flushed pink, his eyes vibrant and glinting like polished rubies, and the relaxed, glowing smile on his face, your heart swells in your chest and tears well up in your eyes and slide out the corners.

His brows knit together, “Love,” his fingers sweep the unbidden tears away, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” you cross your arms over his chest and rest your chin on your hands. “I’m just happy too.”

He closes his eyes, but he does not let himself slip. He hangs in that dreamscape between wakefulness and his trance while he listens intently to her heartbeat, a lullaby nestling in his soul. It’s only a matter of time before the nightmares that plague her impend on her rest, and when they do, he will be here to chase them away. She used to have troublesome dreams now and again, but she never used to wake up screaming. His chest tightens around his withered heart. Is it sadness, guilt or perhaps a mixture of both suffocating him?

He does not know. These are emotions he’s still not used to feeling, and he has difficulty discerning which is which. Centuries spent anesthetizing himself against everything, but loathing, disgust and anger have left him unaccustomed to little else. He’s so fragmented that he can’t even feel accurately, and sometimes, those insecurities still tell him that he should never have returned to her. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the shadows that fester in his mind.

He forces himself to drown in the oppressive ocean, trying to decipher it. Fear? Guilt? Shame? Sorrow? What in the Hells constricts his chest? What good is he to her if he cannot be sure of his feelings?

But he is sure of her, and that is enough.

Focusing on his body, he leans into that comfortable, warm weight of her draped over him, her breath a gentle summer breeze fanning his chest. He sinks into the comfort too much, and his mind wanders.

She’s coming toward him. Why? She advances slowly, but he still feels the reflex to step back. Her arms fold around him, encasing him in her warmth. He doesn’t know what to do with this kind of physical affection, so he just stands there rigid and bewildered, like a fool.

Sex – now that is a language he can speak fluently, but this, what in the Hells does he do with this?

He flexes his hands as if testing to see if they are capable of supplying this kind of intimacy. When was the last time someone hugged him, simply to hug him? Good Gods, when was the last time he hugged anyone back? His arms fold around her, slow and unsure. Is he doing it right? Is he too cold on her skin? How tight is too tight or too loose? Can she tell he has no fucking idea what he’s doing?

"You don’t have to hug me back, Astarion,” she mutters against his chest with a giggle. “Am I making you uncomfortable? Say the word, and I will stop.”

Pulling her tightly to him is the only reply he can manage. His voice will surely shake and betray his distress. She feels good in his arms like this, a surprise that shocks him more than the initial hug. He relaxes into the moment, and his mind stops its incessant whirling. She steps away too quickly. It takes everything in him not to pull her back and never let her go.

“You... you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Her eyes bore into him, and his words tumble out, “Honestly, I have no idea what we are doing. Or what comes next,” he adds because he cannot promise her there is anything next. He may not be capable of being with someone. He simply doesn’t know how to be anything other than the rake. He offers her his hand, desperate to touch her again, to feel the comforting heat of her skin thawing the ice in his veins and the crystals that have formed in the ventricles of his long-dead heart.

She takes his hand without hesitation, and Gods, he could swear that his heart quivered in his chest, “But I know that this? This is nice.”

“Yes, is it.” Her voice is tight, and her fingers twitch against his palm, “I need to get some rest. Goodnight, Astarion.”

"Ah, yes. Of course.” He jerks his hand away, lacing his arms behind his back with a shallow bow, “Sleep tight, my dear.”

Walking towards his tent, he turns to ask her to stay with him tonight. That is what couples do. Isn’t it? They are a couple now, aren’t they? Why does the title matter to him? He doesn’t get the chance to ask as she trots away and disappears into her tent.

He slips into his trance with an ease he has not felt in some time, especially in this cursed place with its hungry shadows and eternal darkness, but something is moving around. Eyes snapping open, he wakes quickly, his daggers poised and ready to kill. He peers around the dim camp, blinking the remainder of his meditation away, forcing his mind to focus.

His ears twitch at the sound of breathy, muffled sobs, and he sheaths his daggers. He would know her voice anywhere, and he jogs toward the sound.

Her back is turned to him as he approaches the furthest corner of camp. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, pulled tightly to her chest, and her head rests on them. Her body trembles as she fights to keep her pain muted. He’s never seen her cry before, and he’s taken aback. He had seen her bleeding out and on the verge of death, and her eyes were only ever ablaze with determination.

“Darling,” he rasps and hates how startled his voice sounds. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

She jumps at the sound of his voice. Her hands come up quickly to wipe the tears from her face, and she plasters the worst concocted smile on her face he’s ever seen.

“Oh, uh, hello. Everything is fine. I’m not hurt. I just, uh, need a moment.”

Teardrops wishing to be spilled cling to the corners of her eyes, and she chokes back her sobs. He wonders if he should leave her to her misery. If she wanted to talk to him, she surely would, right? He looks back at his tent.

No. No, that is not what a partner would do.

Sitting beside her, he pats her back awkwardly and inwardly cringes at himself, “If you do not wish to speak about whatever is the matter, I will not pry, but I am here for you. You can talk to me.”

“I should have seen it. Fuck. I should have known. If I had read the situation better, I would have been able to stop you from putting yourself through this.” Her eyelashes flutter as she looks at the shadows writhing across the sky like a pit of snakes. “I’m so sorry you felt like you had to manipulate me. I would have protected you with my life even if you didn’t sleep with me. I hope you know that. I will always protect you, Astarion.”

She’s... Hells, she’s crying because of what he said? She blames herself for his flawed notions. He almost wants to admonish her for being a martyr. What he did and how he acted is entirely on him.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he spits a little too harshly, and she balks. Shit. He is terrible at this, isn’t he? Consoling someone does not come naturally to him. “Apologies. That was crass,” he sighs. “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

She giggles at him, and a smile slinks across his lips, “You could use more practice in this particular social skillset. That smart mouth of yours is a little too sharp sometimes.”

“I am not accustomed to this,” he admits, raising his arm in an invitation to get close. She scoots over and leans against him, “It’s new territory for me. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Astarion. I understand,” she chimes in that sweetly forgiving inflection. “It’s already forgotten.”

“What I did was not a reflection on your character.” He gently guides her gaze so it meets his, and he speaks only truths, “You’re incredible, and you’ve seen nothing but incredible since I dragged you to the ground with a dagger to your lovely neck.”

“You never have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” She grips his shirt in her fist, tugging on it slightly. Behind the tears brimming in them, her eyes glow with that determination he’s used to seeing. “Never, Astarion.”

He’s astonished, and his mouth drops open. When was the last time someone never required him to do something he was uncomfortable with? He nods his understanding, and she relaxes into his arms.

“Do you want to...” he swallows hard, “do you want to rest with me tonight?”

“Oh,” she jerks slightly, and her eyes shift. “That’s not needed. Honestly, I’m fine.”

“It is what couples do, is it not?” He asks because he honestly wants to know.

“What does it matter what other couples do?” she arches a brow at him with a devious grin. “We are us, and we can do as we please.”

Us. He does like the sound of that.

“Well,” he pauses, his tongue pressed hard against the top of his mouth as if trying to taste the words, “Then it would please me immeasurably if you joined me in my tent tonight.”

“This is real,” she breathes while staring up at him with those eyes that make whatever is left of his soul mewl, “You and me, we are real, and this is what you want, right Astarion?”

“We are real,” he purrs. “I may need time to learn and adjust, but this is real, and I’ve never wanted anything so fervently in my life. Come, rest with me tonight, my love.”

“My love?” her voice trembles.

“That’s right.” It’s all he can say without truly saying it.

The sitting room fire burns brightly as you lay on the lounge with an open book on your lap, but you haven’t been able to concentrate on reading. Your mind and body are restless. Mr. Blackwell is due to return to the city soon, and Gale has already told you that word has spread about Aldous’s “mysterious” disappearance. You knew this was coming, of course. That damn bookshop was frequented by many, and the fact that it’s been closed was sure to cause a stir.

You’re still unsure of how to handle the situation. You could try to convince Mr. Blackwell that Aldous ran off, but he was already suspicious, which will hamper your silver tongue. In truth, that would likely only be putting off the inevitable. When Aldous doesn’t return and is never heard from again, the problem will arise anew. At best, it might allow you to get Astarion out of Waterdeep, but that left Gale in a precarious situation.

No. This needs to be dealt with, one way or another.

A sphere of fire revolves above your palm, a comfort to you in times of uncertainty. When you feel powerless, your mastery and control of fire is a solace you often indulge in. The sphere bursts like a firework at your mute request and becomes dozens of glowing orbs that revolve and twist above you in a spellbinding flourish.

“Well, that’s quite the spectacle,” Astarion muses, “Although you only do things like this when you’re troubled. What’s going on in that head of yours? Should I be prepared for you to bolt again?”

He knows me too well.

“I won’t bolt again,” you scoff at him, pretending to be irritated. You may be broken, but your skin is still thicker than to be bothered by his flippant taunts.

He chuckles at the feigned sourness in your voice, “Tell me what’s troubling you.”

At your command, the orbs reshape into birds made of fire that frolic around Astarion, twirling, swooping and diving whimsically. They glint in the red of his eyes, casting attractive shadows that complement the angular planes of his face. Astarion smiles, watching the captivating pageant cavorting around him before you quell it completely.

Truth. I must stop trying to hide things from him.

“Gale said Mr. Blackwell will be back soon,” you sigh, rubbing your face, “and I still don’t have a good plan. He likely knows about his son’s disappearance, and we both know where he will come looking first.”

Astarion sits, and you stretch your legs across his lap, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We will workshop the details as we go. We always have.” He cocks his head, “You have never cared for a plan much before. Showing up and causing chaos has always been more our style.”

“You know I’m fine with chaos,” you admit. “But Gale is not, and this is his home. He is well-known and respected here. I won’t tarnish his reputation. I can’t do that to him.”

Astarion nods and smirks at you playfully, “I’m guessing that means good old-fashioned murder is off the table?”

With a small laugh, you give Astarion’s shoulder a gentle shove. “No more murder, Rogue.”

“Sorceress,” he pouts, clicking his tongue at you. “You used to be much more fun.”

“When we leave Waterdeep, you may murder until your heart’s content.” A truth. You may try to spare life when you can, but you do not require Astarion to. You fell for him as he is, as he has always been, and your love is not conditional.

“I await the day we leave then,” he chuckles, “Will you come out with me tonight? I would like to take you on a date.”

You giggle, “More courting?”

“Wooing. Courting. Romancing. Pleasuring,” he smirks slyly, “There is a ball being held tonight in the glory of some deity or another.”

“The balls held here are generally for the high society and nobles.”

“Indeed. They are,” he retorts, “which means we must look the part.”

“Looking the part is only half the battle,” you muse, “The other half is convincing them to give you entry.”

“Darling, I’m almost offended.” Astarion tuts, clicking his tongue with a frown, “Do you truly forget who you’re talking to? I can get us in one way or another. I am sure of it.”

Your lips twitch up in a devious smirk, “Are we going to cause some chaos?”

“A man can dream,” He smiles brightly. “You will come, yes?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of missing the chance to see you in action,” you purr. One of your favourite things has always been observing him doing what he excels at, and he adores the attention. “Do you have something to wear, or do you need me to go out and pick up something?”

“No need. I acquired something,” he winks with a wily grin. “Do you?”

“Acquired, huh? You went thieving without me, naughty boy.” You pull yourself up using his shoulder and glower at him playfully, tapping the tip of his nose softly, “You’re lucky I have something that will do nicely.”

Astarion giggles, taking your hand and using your finger to tap your nose back, “I am happy to take you thieving any night.”

“Promises. Promises. A future date, perhaps?"

“Dates where we go commit crimes?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead, “You’re far too perfect, my love. We leave at nightfall.”

Preparing in your old room, you slip into the lavish dress you thought would never wreathe your body. It was an impulsive and frivolous purchase that cost you more than any magical item, quarterstaff or robe you’ve ever bought and many times more useless.

The ivory silk sheaths your body, hugging your curves in all the right places with an off-the-shoulder neckline. Golden flames with a meticulous amount of detail are elegantly embroidered up the sides of the bodice until the flames lick across, meet in the middle and wrap around your breasts, accentuating them. Lace and silk flow over your hips and trumpet out slightly, licking the ground.

You wear a golden chocker that gives the appearance of gleaming wings wrapped around your neck and pin the delicate gold chains of the matching headpiece in the elaborate twists and curls, keeping half your hair up, leaving some to waterfall down your back in waves. Staining your lips a deep red hue, you line your eyes with black and shimmering gold and then slip into your heels.

Gods, how long has it been since I wore anything other than flat boots or sandals?

Descending the stairs, your eyes snap to Astarion. He’s chatting with Gale, wearing an exemplary raven ensemble lined in a rich, dark violet and piped in gold. How in the Hells he managed to steal something that fits him as if tailored to his body is beyond you.

Astarion turns, and his expression of utter disinterest dissolves. He bows low before offering his hand. “You look,” Astarion stutters, clearing his throat, “positively ravishing.”

“Yes.” Gale stammers, jaw slack. He recovers his poise quickly, “You look lovely, my friend.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about the surprise I see in both of your faces, but thank you,” you laugh and give them a sarcastic curtsy and take Astarion’s offered arm. “Shall we go?”

“You two have fun.” Gale smiles, his hands laced behind his back, “Please try to stay out of trouble.”

Astarion clicks his tongue with a huff, “Gods, you could not be duller if you tried, wizard.”

Arm entwined with Astarion’s, you approach the grand manor. Nobles in their regal garb flit about in a cacophony of voices as you approach the door. Several City Guards stand at the entrance of the multistory residence. You look anxiously at Astarion, and he taps your hand comfortingly.

“Name and invitation,” the guard’s husky voice drones with boredom.

Astarion answers in the choreographed intonation of manipulation you know so well, “Lord and Lady Ancunin,” he drawls confidently while handing over an invitation.

Lady Ancunin.

Your heart leaps, doing cartwheels in your chest, and Astarion’s eyes flick to yours. His lips twitch as he supresses a chuckle, and a wine-hued flush spreads across your cheeks.

The guard’s eyes flit over the invite, but his partner shakes his head while looking at some other list his fingers are clutched around, “I’m sorry, Lord Ancunin. You are not on the list.”

Astarion doesn’t flounder, “I’m positive you’re mistaken,” he accentuates commandingly, “Please check again.”

The guard looks to his comrade, who quickly flicks through sheet after sheet of paper. Your heart rate spikes, and your magic reels unprompted, palms heating.

Finally, the guards bow low, “Our sincerest apologies, Lord and Lady Ancunin. We mean no disrespect. It seems you were a late addition. Please enjoy the event.”

You enter the large foyer, its white tiles polished to a mirror-like sheen. Grand stone columns, carved with vines and flowers intricately wrapped around them, stretch to the high ceiling. The sheer size dwarfs you and makes Gale’s manor look small. A substantive fountain sculpted into the facsimile of Lliira, the joy bringer, is situated under an enormous crystal chandelier that casts rainbows athwart the room.

Who the Hells needs a fountain inside their home?

“This fountain is horrific,” you whisper to Astarion while frowning.

“Isn’t it?” He smirks, “I told you I would get us in.”

“I never had any doubt, love. Who did you steal the invitation from?”

“Who knows?” Astarion shrugs, “I did not request their name while I pilfered their pockets.”

“And getting our name on the list?”

“Our name, hm? I do rather like the sound of that, you know,” he purrs, with a dreamy and contemplative guise that makes you wonder what’s going through his head. “That was substantially more of a challenge. Perhaps I broke in last night and penned our name myself, perhaps I paid someone off, or perhaps the guards just found me too intimidating. Trade secrets I’m not about to divulge.”

You giggle. He’d planned this, and for someone who is not a planner, that fact plucks your heartstrings, “I will get those secrets out of you.”

“I wish you the best of luck with that,” he tuts, tapping your lower lip. “Your silver tongue is impressive, my dear, but it does not work on me. I know all your little tricks.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you flash him with an impish smirk. “My silver tongue seemed to work wonders on you last night.”

“Good Gods, did it ever,” he drawls with a wolfish grin. “Don’t remind me of that here, naughty girl.”

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” You taunt, letting your fingers climb his chest. “Having trouble containing your, shall we say, enthusiasm?”

“With you?” Astarion kisses your palm. “Bloody always.”

You laugh as he drags you into the rabble of the ballroom. Illusion magic is clearly at play, the ceiling obscured by whirling lights of blues, whites and yellows, frolicking between clouds. Beautiful music fills the air, hidden under the chitchat of the other patrons. A long table of assorted drinks and treats splits the ballroom, filling the air with a sweet, zesty scent.

Astarion flits about the patrons, skillfully avoiding questions that might unearth your true identities. You’re nearly as skilled a liar as he, and untruths roll smoothly off your tongue, but whenever you falter, Astarion is there to throw you a lifeline and give you an escape.

Astarion escorts you onto the dancefloor and draws you into a dancer’s embrace as the music slows. With his cheek against yours, he whispers, “Nobility is as insufferable as ever.”

“Yes, this must be nigh on one of the utmost pretentious events I have had the pleasure of crashing.” Astarion glides you across the dancefloor, your feet following his expert lead. “Yet, you fit in with them effortlessly.”

“It takes considerable effort, darling,” he lifts his arm, and you pirouette at his side. He crosses your arms about your waist so your back is against his chest, and you sway slowly, side to side, “If I had it my way, I would be picking the pockets of every sod in here.”

“Well,” you say as he spins you again, and your arms wrap around his shoulders while he dips you low with confident steps, his hand at the small of your back, “Why aren’t you? Pandemonium was always our way, was it not?”

“As much as I would adore robbing these fools blind, you and me, in this moment, feels magical, does it not?” His fingers curl into your back as he gazes into your eyes with affection so sincere and deep it swallows you whole, and he brings you upright slowly, “I’m right where I want to be."

Be with me. Hells, be with me forever.

Before you can answer and tell him you want to be his again, an unpleasant shove on your shoulder nearly sends you tripping over your feet if it were not for Astarion’s tight hold on you.

A svelte woman with her hands on her hips dressed in a silvery shimmering dress smirks at you with a haughty glower, peering down at you over an upturned nose. She looks at Astarion, and her expression softens as her eyes slither over him.

Here we go. Again.

People have been eyeing him all night, vying for his attention. It was only a matter of time before some brazen imbecile attempted to do away with you.

“Oh my! I should watch where I am going,” she croons with a hand in front of her mouth, a facade of innocence if you’ve ever seen one. “My apologies, Lord….”

“Ancunin,” Astarion concludes, not even looking at her, “It’s quite alright.”

The woman bats her eyes, “Lord Ancunin,” she muses through pouty lips, “May I apologize by offering you a dance?”

Of fucking course.

“That is not necessary,” he almost growls but keeps his intonation courteous.

“Come, Lord Ancunin.” The woman babbles in an unpleasant nasally intonation. “It’s the least I could do.”

Your palms blister, and you can’t help the scowl that deepens the shadows dimming your face. You step in front of Astarion and retort with a voice layered in piercing frost, “I believe my husband said no.”

The woman jumps when you come into her line of sight as if she had not seen you there, and you resist the urge to reach out and slap sense into her.

“Oh,” she gapes while you flay her with your eyes, “I meant no offence.”

“None taken. Enjoy the night.” Astarion bows stiffly before dragging you to an uncrowded stretch of the room. He chuckles, “Cool that twitchy palm of yours, my love.”

You scoff and turn your nose up, crossing your arms, “I will reduce her to ash if she touches you.”

“Possessive, are you?” He giggles with an avid glare, “You need not worry. I am yours and yours alone, wife. ”

Wife. Hells, I called him my husband, didn’t I?

“Call it possession if you like. You said no, and like most wealthy idiots, she heard “try harder,” and I will not stand for it,” you seethe, watching the woman behind his back, still staring at him hungrily.

“There’s a veritable ocean of flame in your eyes,” he chimes with an arched brow. “Is she still watching?”

“Yes,” you condemn bitterly. “She is about to be charred,” you vow, caught in the riptide of your envy.

He pulls you into a passionate kiss full of love and intimacy. Slipping his tongue past your lips, his hands cradle your face, and he pushes his body into your curves. You glance over his shoulder and watch the woman frown, turning away with slumped shoulders, making you smile against him.

“Well,” he soothes under his breath, fingers inching up and down your arm, “Did it work?”

“Yes,” you brim with glee. “She stopped staring, but now everyone else is.”

“Let them stare,�� he waves dismissively, not a whit ruffled by the attention. “I could use a drink. Would you like one?”

“Yes, please. You pick.”

Astarion nods, kisses your temple and disappears into the rabble. Closing your eyes, you lean against the wall. Were it not for that woman, you would have asked Astarion to be yours. Perhaps it isn’t necessary. Astarion has never cared about titles, but it matters to you.

Fear stirs like poison seeping from your bones, and there’s still doubt, but it no longer holds you hostage. Broken or not, you’re ready to step away from the gallows of your heartache.

“You!” A gruff voice, cold with fury, breaks you from your ruminations, “What have you done to my son?!”

Your eyes snap open and land on Mr. Blackwell, flushed red with woebegone rage.

Shit.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I've loved writing since I was a child but have never been confident enough to post anything for others to read. The encouragement I've received has been positively incredible, and it's been helping me through some hard times in my life - sincerely thank you so much! :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

- Astarion's POV seems to be well received, so expect us to switch between his POV and Tav's, which means we will learn more about what he was up to when he left from his perspective. I am excited to write this in upcoming chapters! - Mr. Blackwell is back. Uh oh. - I am once again thinking of giving Tav a name and changing the tags around but grappling with it since I never meant to. It's just feeling a little odd for them to be having heartfelt conversations, and Astarion never actually uses a name besides pet names. Let me know what you are thinking. I understand it would be rather jarring at this point in the story.

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past

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