#BG3 modern AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charmandabear · 3 days

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Eleven

Summary:

You and Astarion have a little check-in about your preferences.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.1k Tags/Warnings: mentions of many, many different kinks, slightly less than ideal kink negotiation, choking, blood drinking, fingering, rough sex, honestly all the standard stuff at this point

I swear I'm not doing this intentionally, but I'm finally posting chapter 11 when the draft for chapter 12 is up on my Kofi. Eventually I'll get my shit back on schedule.

As always, the professor screenshot is from @zipzoomzaria.

Read it on AO3 ~ Masterlist

The sky outside your living room window is streaked with orange and purple from the nearly set sun. Lying on your couch with your feet propped up on the coffee table, you open an incognito tab on your phone. No sense in ruining your algorithm. You search ‘BDSM checklist’ and click on the first result, an extensive PDF that looks relatively promising. You’re trying to not be judgmental, but as you scroll through the list you’re plagued with thoughts ranging from “Wait, that’s a kink? Isn’t that just standard?” to “People are actually into that?” to “Oh. Oh.”

Your eyes scan down the list. There are just so many options that you hadn’t considered.

Bondage – light: yes. Bondage – heavy: maybe? Bondage – all day/multi day: definitely not. Collars – worn in private: absolutely. Collars – worn in public: …maybe?

You picture yourself walking around with Astarion in public with a collar on. Maybe not something so explicit as a dog collar, but like a little choker? Just for you and him? The thought sends a small thrill up your spine. You keep scrolling.

Fetishes: boot worship, cock worship, corsets… sure. Cross dressing? The image of Astarion wearing lacy lingerie and giving you a come hither stare over his glasses brings a light flush to your cheeks.

You open up your text messages and stare at your sparse conversation with him. The picture of His Majesty chewing on The 48 Laws of Power is still prominent, making you smile. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you have no idea what to say. Come over so we can compare kinks? I want to tell you in explicit detail all of the depraved things I want you to do to me? You drop your head back on the couch and stare at your ceiling for a few minutes while you try to sort through your thoughts. Better to be simple and direct, right? After a heavy sigh, you type:

-Do you have plans tonight? Do you want to come over?

You pause before hitting send, suddenly unsure. Why is this the thing giving you anxiety? It’s still hard to be so forthright with him while every instinct screams at you to play it cool. With another huff you clench your jaw and hit send.

You put your phone face down on the couch next to you so you’re not tempted to stare at it. You start to feel antsy without anything for your hands to do and your eyes trace the dents in your worn down popsocket. The seconds stretch on for what feels like hours, and you’re convinced that you’ve said the wrong thing. That he’s changed his mind and decided that you’re not worth the effort after all.

Finally you hear the soft hum of your phone buzz, and you frantically flip it over to read his answer.

-I’d love to. Shall I bring anything? A leash, perhaps?

You giggle and squeal and press your thighs together all at once. You settle back on the couch and tuck your feet beneath you, smiling like a schoolgirl with a crush. An apt comparison, honestly.

-Not yet, but maybe one of those fancy expensive wines.

Your heart thrums as your eyes dart around your apartment, making sure it isn’t too messy. You generally keep it fairly tidy, although compared to Astarion’s place yours is downright spotless. The briefest image flashes through your mind of the two of you living together before you internally scold yourself. Absolutely not, it’s way too soon for those thoughts.

Your phone buzzes again, and you look over at it, surprised.

-You’re still my favorite vintage, darling. 🤍🩸

If someone had been around to hear the noise you just made, you would’ve vehemently denied it.

***

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally hear the knock on the door. You quickly check your hair in the mirror before opening it, and there he is, looking as dashing as ever in a lavender button down and forest green trousers. His collar is undone just enough to get a peek of the delicate silver chains resting on his collarbone, and his sleeves are rolled up, showing off his sinewy forearms. You take the bottle from his hand, your fingers lingering on his wrist momentarily, and gesture for him to come inside. You put the wine down on the counter and turn back to him as he slips his hands around your waist, his cool hands resting on the skin of your lower back below your crop top. You stand on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, gently pressing your lips to his.

“Hi,” you murmur with a shy smile.

“Hi,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. You pull away reluctantly and open the cabinets to take out glasses for wine. Astarion glances down at your socked feet and then over to your shoe rack by the door.

“Oh, erm… would you like me to remove my shoes?” he asks, uncertainty apparent in his voice.

“Oh!” You didn’t consider that he probably hasn’t spent much time in other people’s spaces, and you don’t want to push him outside his comfort zone. “Well, uh… you don’t have to, I guess.” He studies your expression and frowns.

“I feel as though you’d like me to,” he says carefully, and then before you can respond, he walks over to the shoe rack and slips off his shoes, placing them neatly on top of the rack.

“Thanks,” you mumble, and he crosses back to you and kisses your temple. You linger in his scent for a moment longer before turning toward your tablet resting on your kitchen island. You unlock the screen and pull up the checklist you had been perusing earlier, then slide it over to him to look at.

“So in the spirit of, you know, being on the same page about things,” you tell him as you pull out your kitschy pirate-shaped corkscrew, “I wanted to look at a list of like, things to try, and I dunno, talk about it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous about this. You certainly don’t have much experience with being so explicit about your desires, preferring instead to rely on nonverbal communication with partners. Which, in retrospect, might explain more than a few disappointing experiences.

Astarion brushes your hair back from your neck and lightly runs his nose along your ear, eliciting a shiver. “You wouldn’t just rather have a repeat of the evening at the bowling alley?” You lean your head back into him for a moment, savoring his touch, before steeling yourself and pulling away.

“No, we should actually talk about it,” you sigh heavily, barely able to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“Having a conversation, how novel,” he says with that high-pitched giggle you find so very charming. You pour generous servings of wine and take a long sip before settling yourself onto a barstool.

“So they split it into different categories, and then there are a lot of subcategories,” you explain, trying to be chill about it and only mostly succeeding.

“People can get very specific about their wants, it’s true,” he agrees sagely, and you’re suddenly reminded of his centuries of experience over you. You try not to let that make you feel even more insecure than you already do.

“Right. So um… blindfolds, light bondage, chains.” You make little check marks next to the ones you’re interested in with your tablet pen.

“Collars, I believe you articulated something along those lines,” he smiles at you salaciously, and you take a deep sip of your wine to hide your embarrassment. He places his hand on your lower back reassuringly, and you muster the resolve to continue scanning down the list.

“Various cuffs sound good to me, although I’m not sure if I know what ‘handcuff style’ means,” you say, putting the pen to your lips in thought.

“May I?” he asks, holding out his hands to indicate that he’s asking for permission to demonstrate it on you. You nod and slip off the barstool, and in an instant he has you spun around and your wrists pinned together behind your back. He’s gentle enough, but uses just the right amount of force to make you gasp. “Do you like that?” His voice is low in your ear and your heart threatens to leap out of your chest.

“I, uh… think you can surmise the answer to that,” you tease a little breathlessly, and the puff of air from his chuckle tickles your neck.

“Perhaps, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I want to hear you say it.” He punctuates the sentence by tightening the grip on your hands ever so slightly.

“Then yes, I do.” The words come out a little strained but he deems your answer satisfactory. He releases your wrists and you turn back to him to see him with an incredibly smug grin. You playfully shove his face and return to the list, and he leans over your shoulder to read along with you.

“Thoughts on gags?” he asks, and you think it over for a moment.

“I think probably not, although maybe tape, just none of these other ones. I don’t want to get all drool-y.” You throw him a mischievous glance over your shoulder. “Although on you, I might reconsider.” You stick your knuckle in his mouth and he closes his lips around your finger, sucking on it while keeping his eyes trained on you. He pulls your finger out with a lewd pop and pulls your wrist into his lips, grazing his fangs along your pulse point.

“You’d be hurting yourself more than helping, darling,” he murmurs into your skin, and you bite your lip in an attempt to control your breathing. He uses your momentary distraction to snatch the pen out of your hand. “And I’ll go ahead and put a tick next to ‘leashes’ right here.”

“I thought you wanted to hear me say it,” you needle him back, pressing up against him unnecessarily to retrieve the pen.

“Oh I most certainly would,” he purrs, and you feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You continue scanning down the list, adding checkmarks to some of the things you’ve already done. You reach ‘blood play’ and add a check. Astarion leans down and gives your neck a quick little nip, not enough to break the skin, but enough to make you yelp.

“Fetishes,” you read, tapping the pen to your lips. “You know, I’m definitely into some of these things, corsets, high heels – I might even still have some of the costume pieces from when I was in Venus in Fur that they let me keep.”

Astarion’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Venus in Furs, as in, the Sacher-Masoch book?”

“Based on it, yeah. Venus in Fur, singular, by David Ives.”

“I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing some production photos from that,” he teases, running his fingers along the waistband of your skirt.

“Well maybe I should just model the costume for you in person,” you murmur, turning into his chest and tilting your chin upward. He follows your lead, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. Your head grows foggy with lust and you finally push him away. “Focus,” you scold yourself as much as him.

“I am extremely focused right now,” he hums, looking down at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Hmm, prove it,” you retort, and tap the pen on your tablet screen. “What are your thoughts, um. On crossdressing.” You’re a little embarrassed to ask, but you continue to barrel through your shame. Jaheira would be proud.

“Would you like that?” His voice remains just as lust-filled and you flush a deep red. “Seeing me in a cute little skirt and thigh high stockings?”

The image in your mind is vivid: Astarion straddling your lap, a miniskirt flaring out from his hips and his cock pressing against you through thin satin panties. You nearly start hyperventilating.

“Uh-huh,” you breathe heavily.

“Duly noted,” he says with a giggle. You blink to focus your eyes back to reality and return to the list.

“Humiliation?” you ask, and he shrugs. “Yeah, me neither. Impact and rough play. Uh…” you scan through the list, putting down a few checks – face slapping, riding crops, spanking. “Oh. Um. Non-monogamy.” You turn to him to gauge his expression. He returns your gaze equally carefully.

“Is that something that interests you?” he asks, his voice neutral.

“Probably not dating… um… but I could consider a threesome, like, with the right person. Unless you’re not into that,” you add quickly, and his lips curl into a smile.

“We can cross that bridge if we come to it,” he replies and plants a kiss in your hair.

“Okay, I like that,” you hum appreciatively. You move onto the next category. “Role play. None of these are of particular interest to me, probably… ugh, schoolroom scenes, I can’t.” You shudder and he lets out a cackle.

“Not interested in a professor/student roleplay?” he asks with a roguish smile. “No looking for extra credit to get your grade up?”

You have another visceral reaction. “Too close to home, no thank you. Although…”

“Reconsidering?” he narrows his eyes playfully.

“No! I was just looking… Well, two jump out at me. Uh…” you struggle against your internalized shame and let out a growl of frustration. He takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him. His cool touch is a soothing balm against the fiery heat in your cheeks.

“Darling, you can tell me. Trust me, I’m sure it isn’t anything I haven’t already heard.” His voice is gentle, but there’s almost a sadness behind it that you can’t place. You take a deep breath and hold onto his hand, keeping it pressed against your cheek.

“Okay. The first one is fear play. Like… I like when you get a little animalistic. Almost a predator/prey kind of thing.” You avoid his gaze despite his insistence, but you power through. “The other one is switching roles. I may have… fantasized… about you being a bit of a needy sub.” You almost swallow your last few words before looking up to his gaze again. His red eyes are completely inscrutable.

“Well, I’m more than happy to hunt you down, love,” he leers at you and your breath catches. Then his expression falters, shifting into something more contemplative. “As for the second…” Your whole body tenses in anticipation of the ‘but.’ “I’d have to think about it. I don’t relish the idea of giving up that much control.”

“Ohmygodsnoit’stotallyfinewedon’thavetotalkaboutiteveragain.” The words pour out of your mouth in a barely coherent jumble. He laughs and pulls your face into his, giving you a tender kiss.

“I said I’d think about it, darling, not that it’s an outright no.” He searches your eyes for any indication of understanding, and you nod. He looks back at the next category on the list. “Sensation play, non-impact,” he reads, and he laughs when his eyes fall on ‘biting/being bitten.’

“Yeah, I guess that one’s pretty obvious,” you say sheepishly, putting a check next to it. He looms over your shoulder and you feel the electricity crackling between the two of you.

“Now, I’d like to ask for a point of clarification,” he considers while pointing at ‘breath control (choking)’ and ‘breath control (mild restriction.)’

“Uh-huh?” you ask, barely trusting yourself to articulate words. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings his hand to your throat hesitantly, a silent question. You give him a shallow but prolonged nod, your breath quickening with excitement. He closes his hand slowly, testing the pressure. Your mouth falls open with a silent moan.

“Mild?” he asks, his voice husky. Your fingers curl and flex on the counter, dropping the tablet pen.

“Yeah,” you squeak out, your blood pounding in your ears. His eyes glint with a devilish fire and a smile slowly creeps onto his lips.

“Good,” he hums, low and dangerous. He studies your face for a moment longer, turning your chin left and right, almost like he’s examining you. Your body trembles, waiting for his next move. He suddenly pulls you up onto your toes, your face close to his, his nails digging into your flesh. You whine, high and loud and undeniably aroused.

He continues with his interrogation. “And how is this? Yes or no, pet.” Under any other circumstances, his voice might be considered gentle.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your voice cracking.

“Yes, what?” he spits through gritted teeth, tightening his hand and tearing another wanton moan from your lips.

“Y-yes daddy,” the word tumbles out of you before you can even think to stop it.

Evidently it was the correct answer because his features split with a feral grin as he snarls, “That’s my good girl,” before crushing your lips into his. You grasp weakly at his hips as he devours you, and you’re more than happy to let him. He slides his hands under your ass and plunks you down on the island. He grabs the hem of your shirt and yanks it over your head, pulling your hips in closer to his waist as he continues to ravage your lips.

He snakes his hand into your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to his destruction. “Little love, tell me what you desire,” he growls into your ear, and you clutch your arms around his shoulders.

“You,” you manage to gasp out, “I- ah- I want you. To have your way with me. Destroy me, consume me, take your fill. I want you, Astarion.” You tense up, waiting for his bite, but instead he leaves a trail of sloppy kisses and nips down your chest. He closes his lips around your nipple under your bra, sucking on it through the lace. You run your fingers through his curls and drop your head back with a moan.

Before you can adjust to the feeling of his tongue on your nipple, his lips continue their journey down your stomach and to the waistband of your skirt. He hikes it up to your hips, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties and pulls them down past your knees, discarding them onto the kitchen floor. He hovers his mouth over your slick cunt and shifts his gaze up to you. You can feel his cool breath and you whimper and squirm, aching for any part of him.

“Your hand, love,” he purrs as he reaches out for your wrist, pulling your fingers to your swollen clit. You groan as you make contact, instinctively rubbing little circles to give yourself the relief you crave. He slides his nimble fingers into your cunt and you jerk your hips into him, clenching around him and breathing heavily. He slowly pumps his fingers as you massage your clit, never taking his eyes off you. It’s almost too intense and you want to look away, but you’re transfixed. His lips drift to your inner thigh, his fangs ghosting over your skin.

“Please,” you mewl, and the breath from his laugh tickles your thigh. He straightens up and puts his lips to your ear, his fingers never straying from their tortuous pace.

“You’re going to listen closely to what I’m about to say and you will follow my instructions, understood?” You whimper out a noise of assent, trying to match your fingers to his. “I’m going to bite you, and you’re going to continue touching yourself while I drink. And you’re not going to be stingy with those needy little moans of yours, my sweet, I want to hear and taste you come.”

“Yes sir,” you squeal, and your breath quickly turns into a groan when he sinks his teeth into you. Your fingers slow at the overwhelm of sensation, but when his own fingers speed up as he takes in long greedy pulls of your blood, your need becomes almost unbearable. You clutch at the back of his head with one hand as the other services your clit, and you pant in his ear as he drinks. “Fuck, Astarion, gods, yes,” you gasp the explitives into his hair. Your hips buck into your hand as you bring yourself closer, aided by his fingers dragging against your walls and his tongue lapping at your neck. You quickly grow dizzy with lust and blood loss, your vision clouding you ramp up to the edge. Your fingers tangle into his curls as your whimpers and whines grow high and needy. When you feel the vibration of his own groan against your skin, your orgasm crashes down on you, your cunt and neck both throbbing with pleasure. He rides it out with you, lazily licking your wounds closed.

He pulls away from you and the sight of his lips red with your blood sends another surge through you, and you grab his face and kiss him roughly. He wraps his arms around your waist, the fingers on his left hand still sticky with your cum. You claw at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his cool, smooth chest. Once you’ve rid him of the offending clothing, you break the kiss to catch your breath, sliding your hands over his shoulders and down his arms. He growls with a low appreciation.

“My darling, you taste delectable,” he hums and swipes his thumb across your lips, collecting a drop of your blood and sucking it off lasciviously. You pant and look at him through blurry eyes, your legs still shaking. He pulls you off the counter and your knees buckle as you land, barely able to hold up your weight. “On your knees, my treasure.”

You happily drop to the floor, never taking your eyes off his. He towers over you with a sinister smile and you slide your hands around the back of his thighs, just trying to brace yourself. Your mouth hangs open, hungry for him but waiting for instructions. He cards his hand through your hair, letting it run around your ear and down under your chin.

“So eager for me,” he says in a low voice, and he slips his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it fervently, keeping your carnal gaze on him, aching to please. His eyes flutter closed briefly and he lets out a long breath. You keen into his thumb, a nonverbal plea for his cock. He yanks his digit back from your mouth and closes his hand around your throat once more, bending over for a heated kiss. When he finally releases you, you’re panting again, the whimpers practically uncontrollable.

He begins to unbuckle his pants and you pull up on your knees, begging like a needy pup. “Little love, is this what you want? My cock shoved down your throat?” He pulls out his erection, engorged and flushed pink with your blood, as you nod with a whine. “Good. Open,” he commands and you dutifully obey, taking him as far into your mouth as you can. You swallow down your gag reflex, keeping your eyes trained on him as his head falls back with a moan. You bob your head on his cock, your nails digging into the back of his thighs. He tangles his hand into your hair and you hold still as he thrusts into your mouth.

“Fuck, Tav,” he hisses and you moan around his cock, spurred on by that jolt of electricity you only get from hearing him say your name. He yanks your hair to pull you off his cock, and he looks at you with wild eyes for a moment before pushing you down onto your back. The kitchen tile is hard and cool against your skin, and you’re all too aware of every knot and point of tension along your back. But your legs fall open for him anyway as he pulls his pants down to his knees and positions himself at your entrance. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, gathering your wetness and spreading it down onto the shaft with his hand.

“Please,” you croak, your hips canting upwards towards him. He lets out a shuddering breath that’s almost a laugh.

“Use your words, love.” His voice is thick with lust, which just sets you off more.

“Please,” you beg with even more desperation, “please fuck me and choke me, Astarion. Please.” You’re almost crying with need at this point, and the noise you make when he finally buries himself into you up to the hilt is utterly obscene. He grabs your throat and digs his fingers into the side of your larynx, just barely restricting your air supply. He pounds into you with long, powerful strokes, and you claw at the kitchen floor to keep yourself from sliding backwards. You let out a strained cry with each thrust, pleasure and sensation overwhelming your body.

“Look at me,” he snarls with a slight squeeze on your throat, and you snap your gaze to him. He looks borderline bestial, his eyes wild with bloodlust, his hair falling over his glasses. His expression alone would have been enough to get another orgasm out of you, but the look paired with the feeling of his controlling and possessive hand around your throat sends you careening off the edge with a cry. A few more broken thrusts of his hips and he’s following, his cock throbbing as he spills into you. He falls forward onto your stomach limply, breathing heavily as you push the curls back off his sweaty forehead.

You reach across your alleyway kitchen and grab a dish towel hanging off your oven door. Astarion slides out of you and you gently wipe your combined spend off his cock. When you look up you catch him staring at you adoringly.

“What?” you shy away as he pulls his pants back up, and he chuckles.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that, is all.” He takes the towel from your hand and returns the favor, wiping down your inner thigh before crawling toward you and planting a featherlight kiss on your lips. A thousand different thoughts run through your head before you resolutely decide to continue the conversation from earlier. You strain your neck up at the kitchen island above you and frown.

“My tablet is so far away,” you pout, reaching upward pathetically. He rolls his eyes and stands to retrieve your tablet and your wine glass, handing them to you as you lean your back against the island cabinets. “My hero,” you croon as he sits down beside you, taking his own glass with him. He takes a long sip while watching you out of the corner of the eye and you pull the list back up.

“Now where were we?” You scoot over towards him and loop your arm through his, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“I believe we got side tracked right around ‘breath control,’” he says as he takes the pen off the side of the tablet and puts checks next to the relevant entries. You shove him with your body and continue your journey down the list. You consider a few more – temperature play, sensory deprivation, teasing…

“Ooh, this one is specific to elves!” you squeal with delight when your eyes land on ‘ear play - elves.’ You quickly nip at his earlobe and he makes a shuddering moan, a somewhat disproportionate response for how relatively tame your action is.

“Ah- yes, I thought you had figured that one out,” he quavers with a laugh, and you suddenly redden.

“Oh. Ohh.” It suddenly dawns on you that the differences between elf and human anatomy are more than just visual. “Is that something you like? That you’re okay with?”

He laughs. “Yes, very much so, just be cautious with it if you don’t want things to come to a sudden, messy end.”

You nod and then add mischievously, “Good to know.” You turn your eyes back to the list. “What the fuck are vampire gloves?” You google the phrase while Astarion scoffs.

“There’s nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?” he spits, venom apparent in his voice. You look up from your phone, which is displaying pictures of leather gloves with spiked palms.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a little nervous. His vampiric nature has become an integral part of your relationship, but it’s never come up so explicitly.

“It’s nothing,” he exhales heavily. “I’ve just had more than my fair share of lovers who were more interested in my fangs than in me.”

You freeze beside him as he continues to scroll through the list with his finger. You’d like him regardless of whether he’s a vampire or not – in fact, you didn’t even know when you first discovered your attraction to him. But you certainly don’t feel neutral about it, and now you’re worried that you’ve fetishized him.

“Love?” He turns to you, since he must have heard your heart stop. You chew on your lip uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry if I, like, made it weird,” you mutter, your cheeks red hot.

“What? Darling, no,” he hushes you reassuringly. “It’s different when it’s you.”

You wrinkle your nose with incredulity. “I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like it is.”

“My sweet, you have a stunning pair of tits,” he begins, and the non sequitur makes you bark out a laugh. “What I’m saying is that it’s something that I like about you, but it’s not the only thing I like about you. And I’m sure you’ve met your fair share of people who only saw you as a walking rack.” You smile, but you’re still not fully convinced. Your eyes linger on the right side of his neck, hidden from view but you can see the bite mark with perfect clarity in your mind’s eye. He brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“Darling, I haven’t exactly been subtle about how I feel about your blood,” he says in a smoky voice, and a shiver runs up your spine, “even moreso when you’re aroused. I wouldn’t change that, not for all the moonstones in Evereska.”

You pout for a moment longer while he gazes at you earnestly. “And you promise to tell me if I get weird about it?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your hairline. “Yes, I promise to tell you if you get weird about it.” Your words sound odd in his posh accent, but it gets a smile out of you nonetheless. “Now, I believe the next category is ‘Service and Restricted-slash-Controlled Behavior.’ Well, that’s certainly a mouthful.”

“Funny, you were a mouthful not that long ago,” you say with a licentious grin.

“Hmm, points for clever wordplay, but reduced marks for low hanging fruit. B+.” He glances at you over his glasses and you gawk at him.

“Excuse me, did you just grade my dirty joke?”

“I hold myself to a higher standard, and I expect the same of you,” he says haughtily and you roll your eyes.

“I think it was at least an A-,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Of course you would, professor,” he smirks at you.

“Are you calling me an easy grader?” you gasp, your affront over the top and theatrical.

“No, just easy,” he hums, leaning in for a kiss, to which you respond by biting his lip. You snatch the pen out his hand and look back at the list. One in particular jumps out at you.

“Oh, the dress that you got me, you know, the night you did the meanest thing anyone has ever done to me?” you say, and you can feel him tense up beside you.

“Have I mentioned how sorry I am for that? And also how wonderful and talented and intelligent you are?” His words carry an air of jest but the concern in his eyes is real.

“And funny?” You widen your smile in an attempt to set him at ease.

“Well, let’s not go that far.” He visibly relaxes when it’s clear you’re just teasing.

“Anyway,” you glare at him playfully, “I was going to say that I liked that. I like when you pick out clothes for me.”

“Then I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with a raised eyebrow. Then his voice drops as he breathes, “You truly were a vision in that dress. I’ll have another one made, if it’s to your liking.” You close your eyes contentedly as he nuzzles your ear, and all you can do is nod. You finally clear your throat to shift your attention back to the list.

“Oh, how about chores?” you muse, tossing him a snarky grin. “Do you think you’d want to don a cute little maid’s outfit and clean my apartment?”

“You could sell me on the maid’s outfit, but darling, you’ve seen my home, you know that I’m not one for cleaning.”

Your mind supplies the very unhelpful image of Astarion wearing a French maid outfit and your brain short circuits. Astarion catches you glitching and laughs.

“Someone is very enthusiastic about seeing me in a dress,” he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Shut up, you’re just really cute,” you mumble, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“Serving other Doms, supervised only,” he reads. “Well, as long as I get to watch.” His voice drops salaciously and you stifle a giggle.

“Like the idea of watching me beg for some big strong Dom?” you volley back, trying to keep your cool.

“Darling, I just like watching you beg.” His voice rumbles low in his chest and you shiver. You move onto the next category, sexual activity and penetration, and wordlessly check entries that, for you at least, just feel pretty standard. Astarion takes the pen from you and puts a check next to ‘strap-on-dildos.’ You glance at him with raised eyebrows and he just smirks in response.

Despite the amount of semi-public sex the two of you have had, you don’t give the next category, ‘Voyeurism and Exhibitionism,’ much attention. The final category, ‘Magic in the Bedroom,’ gives you pause.

Astarion scrolls through the list with his finger, musing, “Since neither of us are magic users, I imagine we’d simply go shopping for scrolls together.”

“Hey Astarion,” you say, and he turns his head to you.

“Hmm?”

“The charm person potion. That I found in your trash.” You keep your voice even, and he frowns.

“Ah. Yes. I, erm… I’m still very sorry for that.” His voice is uncharacteristically stilted.

“Why did you do it?” you ask quietly. You’re pretty sure you know the answer, but you still want to hear him say it. He exhales a deep sigh and waits several moments before finally answering.

“I’ve had more than a few close calls with, ah, potential lovers, shall we say.” He stares off into the middle distance and your eyes trace his profile. “I didn’t think you were secretly a Gur, but also, I’d rather not take my chances.”

“And the thing you said about wanting to seem more charismatic?” You put your hand on his knee in an attempt to soothe both him and yourself.

“A lie. Well,” he corrects himself, frowning, “a half-truth. If I could guarantee that you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart, then you finding my otherwise grating personality slightly more charming was merely a bonus.”

You study his face for a moment longer and then take your hand and turn his chin so he’s facing you. “Hey. Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“I was selfish,” he growls, the self-hatred pouring out of him in waves. “I was so focused on my own safety that how you might feel about it didn’t even occur to me.” He clenches his jaw and you put your tablet on the floor and sidle yourself between his legs. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your bare skin flush against his.

“I wish you hadn’t,” you murmur into his ear. “But I understand why you did. I’m certainly no stranger to feeling unsafe on a date. There are other ways to guarantee your safety, but I think you know that now.”

He lets out a shuddering breath followed by a quiet laugh. “I don’t relish you seeing me like this.”

“Too bad, get treasured, idiot,” you giggle and he pulls out of the hug to take your face in his hands and give you a sensual kiss. You melt into his arms, breathing in his scent deeply. “Bed?” you ask, and he nods silently. You stand and help pull him to his feet, leading him into your bedroom.

#office hours #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 modern au #university au #professor astarion

77 notes · View notes

jojoma · 29 days

Text

I appreciate modern AU bg3 fanarts 😌

1 — kaisunstreehole 2 — ArtofKas

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #karlach #astarion #lae'zel #shadowheart #bg3 modern au #starlach

2K notes · View notes

milton-chamberlain · 4 months

Text

#bg3 cleric #bg #bg3 fanart #bg3 tav #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate gale #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #commission open #bg3 modern au

955 notes · View notes

hylianworrier · 11 days

Text

I Can Tell That You’re All In

Bloodweave AU

Illustrations for Expert Witness part 2!

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 gale #bloodweave #bloodweave fic #bloodweave fanart #bg3 modern au #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanart

240 notes · View notes

elfboypussy · 15 days

Text

partially based on this post about the tadpole gang road tripping

i do agree that astarion is a passenger princess theres just no way he would give up shotgun or aux control under any circumstances

#bg3 #bg3 modern au #astarion #wyll #karlach #shadowheart #gale #laezel #bg3 tav #tav:horith #bg3 shitpost #six of them #my art

239 notes · View notes

nightmaskart · 1 month

Text

Shadowheart modern au

#shadowheart #jenevelle hallowleaf #bg3 fanart #bg3 modern au #shadowheart modern au #dressing shadowheart up in my own clothes #goth fashion #midwest emo shart

202 notes · View notes

liltaireissocute · 1 month

Text

cherry and lavender

fem modern bloodweave because i really wanted to draw cherry leather jacket and girls kissing :'D

114 notes · View notes

rawrsatthetree · 13 days

Text

I think the best way to tackle a Modern AU for BG3 isn’t to make it a slice of life but to some how combine the elements of a collage drama, organized crime, a dooms day cult, and an alien invasion all into one coherent plot.

I do not know how to do this but I do have some ideas. All the characters have no reason to associate with each other until they’re all abducted by aliens, wormed, and released back into the wild like a bird that just got tagged. Everyone kind of writes it off as either a bad trip or a dream until the cross paths and the worm does the connection thing. Eventually bringing them all together with a few people investigating the invasion to get to the bottom of what’s happening.

Wyll is a pre law student mostly against his will to appease his dad. He wants to help people but doesn’t necessarily want to be a cop like his father the chief of police. He half asses his classes because he doesn’t have much passion for them, blowing them off to volunteer in clubs and community outreach programs. I think Mizora should be either a professor, Dean of students, or academic advisor. In exchange for favors she alters his grades pushes him through the system. Little does he know she’s also idk involved with a crime organization and her favors go from small and perverted to slowly becoming more dangerous and criminal. He’s young and she has a lot of power over his future and could even expose him as a fraud and an accomplice to his father so he feel helpless to defy her.

Astarion is a law school drop out but that’s old news. You’ll find him prowling the local bar and club scene looking for potential clients. After a string of bad luck and poor life choices he’s a prostitute and drug dealer for a local gangster in the Black Hand gang only known as The Vampire (I know I’m so creative). Cazador’s deal is still the pretty much the same local rich public figure is secretly a very cruel and evil man who uses fear and addiction to control his underlings.

Karlach worked as muscle for the leader of the Black Hand gang before she was forcibly sold and enlisted as a mercenary over seas. After a ten years fighting in foreign years she’s back and ready to get her revenge on the whole Black Hand cult unfortunately she has to do it quickly because (ok idk I tried doing some research and couldn’t find any condition caused by an injury that can suddenly become fatal idk maybe cancer from a bullet or shrapnel)

Gale isn’t a professor but like a doctorate student on a tenure track, but bordering on the mad science kind of research. He’s in an abusive relationship with his over seeing faculty Mystra. Ultimately a lab accident during his research leads to the orb.

I think Lae’zel should still be an alien. She was abducted on another planet and escaped while the earthlings were being tadpoled. Now she’s stranded and tadpoled on a strange planet.

Halsin is a university professor and a local environmental activist. He’s been investigating strange occurrences and is onto the alien invasion thing.

I’m honestly not sure about Shadowheart. She should definitely be college age. But I’m not sure how to approach the shar thing.

Not sure about Minthara either except maybe military turned death cult member.

Jaheira and Minsc are cops investigating the alien invasion I’m so sorry not like real world cops but like fun fictional cops that only exist in movies. Boo is their police dog. OMG wait no they’re Park Rangers!!

Other stuff

The dead three chosen are instead three gang leaders. Except Bhaal cult also doubles as a murder cult still on top of being a criminal organization.

The alien invasion is still the mind flayer grand design.

I don’t think the dead three are controlling the mind flayers this time. Instead they’re using the strange alien invasion occurrences as grounds to start a dooms day cult or maybe they are idk

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #balur's gate 3 #bg3 modern au #bg3 au #baldurs gate 3 modern au #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 karlach #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 halsin

54 notes · View notes

ratscrap · 6 months

Text

modern au wyll being into fencing for everyone's consideration thank you

#his stone eye is now just a regular glass eye btw #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #wyll bg3 #bg3 wyll #bg3 modern au #sketches #colored #how i drew his hair is also inspired by how @droodle-bug depicts him sometimes :)

137 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 2 months

Text

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

Summary:

Just some nice little smut inspired by Noctis’ Rockstarion render as well as Purple Danger Noodle’s incredible art. (Seen above, and I have permission to post this!)

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2k Tags/Warnings: modern au, rock band au, band manager halsin, rockstarion, anal fingering, hand job, anal sex, desk sex, soft daddy dom Halsin, brat Astarion, blood drinking

I’d been meaning to post this for a while, but I figured today is a good day because tonight I’ll be streaming my Astarion origin run, right in time for Halsin’s romance scene! Check me out on Twitch, I’ll be streaming at 7:30 Central time. Hope to see you there!

Read it on AO3

Astarion swaggers offstage, covered in sweat and glitter, endorphins running high. He bursts into Halsin’s office only to find his manager bent over some papers with a serious expression on his face. Well, this simply won’t do at all. He pops himself onto the corner of Halsin’s desk, leather pants squeaking as he crosses his legs. Halsin glances up at him over his glasses, unamused by the rock star’s antics.

“Astarion,” he says in a low voice, a warning. A cheeky grin slides onto Astarion’s face as he nudges Halsin’s thigh with the toe of his boot. Halsin sighs, takes off his glasses, and stands to tower over Astarion.

“Another charge from the hotel. What on God’s green earth possessed you to steal the hair dryer? Did you need to rip it out of the wall?” He folds his beefy arms and fixes Astarion with a reproachful stare. Astarion uncrosses his legs and leans back on his hands, returning Halsin’s stern look with an impish one. Halsin steps between Astarion’s legs and slides a hand into his long silvery locks, giving a quick little tug. Astarion’s mouth pops open as a satisfied groan escapes his painted lips, his hips tipping forward to try to close the distance between them.

Halsin pulls him into a hard kiss, pressing his groin against the growing bulge in Astarion’s pants. He slips his tongue past the musician’s lips, the acrid taste of menthol cigarettes and tequila lingering in his mouth. He breaks the kiss, keeping their faces in close proximity.

“I thought I told you to stop smoking those awful things,” he says gruffly. “They’ll ruin your voice and then I’ll be out of a job.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy Halsin, with a talent like yours you’ll never be out of a job,” he says with a breathy chuckle, and reaches forward to palm his manager’s cock, earning a low grumble in return. Halsin tightens his hand in Astarion’s hair, who gasps and pulls his lips back into a smile, his fangs glinting in the low light of the office.

“I’ve told you not to call me that.” Halsin’s tone is threatening, but his rutting hips give him away. Astarion hooks his thigh high boots around Halsin’s waist and pulls him closer.

“So do something about it, daddy,” Astarion taunts, and with a single motion Halsin tears through Astarion’s pants, the leather ripping easily at the seams. The rock star isn’t wearing any underwear, most likely because he knew he was going to get lucky one way or another. His cock springs forth, pink bulbous tip already leaking with a drop of precum. Halsin takes it in his hand and swipes his thumb over the slit, gathering the liquid onto his finger.

“Open,” he commands and Astarion obeys instinctively, taking his thumb into his mouth and sucking ferociously. The taste of himself dances over his tongue and he looks up at Halsin with round coquettish eyes. Halsin returns the look, heavy lidded, his breath stuttering as Astarion’s tongue swirls around his thumb. With his other hand, he quickly undoes his belt, pulling out his own girthy cock and letting it land with a thump on the desk. When Astarion sees it, his moan vibrates through Halsin’s hand.

Halsin curls his fingers around Astarion’s jaw and pulls him forward so his lips can press against the pale elf’s ear.

“Little one, how much of my cock do you think you’ll be able to take tonight? A third? Half?” he hums in a low tone, and Astarion shudders.

“All of it, please,” he whimpers as he pops Halsin’s thumb out of his mouth, a trail of saliva still connected to his lips. Halsin utters a low and dangerous chuckle, taking his slick thumb and pressing it to Astarion’s puckering rim.

“Will you let me take the time to stretch you out properly? You have not been known for your patience, historically.” He pushes his thumb past his entrance and Astarion rewards him with a needy whine.

“Yes, please, I’ll be patient,” he says through gasping breaths, “just please don’t stop.” He lets his vinyl jacket slide off his arms and latches his hands onto the back of Halsin’s neck to brace himself.

Continuing to work his thumb inside Astarion, Halsin’s hand fumbles with his desk drawer, pulling out a jar of coconut oil. He yanks one of Astarion’s hands from his neck and presses the jar into his palm.

“Be good and open it for me, would you, love?” He grunts, focusing his energy on twisting and pumping his thumb. Astarion opens the jar eagerly, holding it out for Halsin to scoop it with his unoccupied hand. The sweet smell he now associates with fucking his manager wafts up to his nose and his cock twitches in response.

“Coming around on the coconut oil, are you?” Halsin laughs, and Astarion makes a failed attempt to pout.

“You fucking hippie,” he gasps, his voice completely overtaken by desire. Halsin takes a generous chunk of the white substance and it quickly melts on his warm fingers. He pulls out his thumb and replaces it with two oiled digits and Astarion drops the jar somewhere on the carpeted floor.

“That better not have broken, my Star,” Halsin warns as Astarion pushes himself further down onto his thick fingers. He roughly grabs the vampire’s pointed chin, holding it tight between his forefingers and the thumb that had just been inside him. “Understood? I’d rather not have to punish you for something so trivial.” A wide grin breaks out across Astarion’s lips.

“I promise, Daddy Halsin, when you punish me it will be for a very good reason,” he replies wickedly, running his tongue across the tip of his fangs. Halsin let out a primal growl before silencing him with another fierce kiss. He roughly thrusts his fingers into Astarion, putting the weight of his hips behind it. Halsin’s throbbing cock skids across the glossy surface of the desk, aching to be inside his obstinate charge. He scissors his fingers hastily and Astarion cries into his lips, hooking his heels into the soft flesh of Halsin’s ass.

“Well then why don’t you put those pretty little lips to good use before you give me one?” Halsin growls, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the tip of his cock. He bares his neck to Astarion whose tongue darts over his lips hungrily. “Kissing and licking only, you must earn the right to bite,” he clarifies and Astarion lets out an exasperated whine that gets quickly cut off by Halsin pushing into him.

“Fuck, Astarion,” he groans as the musician licks the sweat from his neck. “You’re so tight, are you sure you can take it?”

“Yes, please,” he says on a breathy moan, his fingers coiling into Halsin’s auburn hair. “I need to feel you, I need to taste you, please, I can take it, I promise, I’ll be so good for you.”

Halsin laughs quietly; he has such a way with lyrics, and yet it’s still so easy to reduce him to a babbling mess. He slides in a little deeper, Astarion panting and squeezing his eyes shut. Halsin grabs his chin again and brings the musician’s gaze to him.

“Look at me, my Star, look at me and breathe,” he coos gently and Astarion’s wet eyes lock onto Halsin’s face. He kisses him again, languid and slow this time, and pushes in a little further. “That’s my good boy, taking me so well.” Halsin strokes Astarion’s neglected cock, earning a stuttered whimper in response. His hips cant into Halsin’s hand, desire and need driving him forward.

“You’re almost there,” Halsin continues his tender coaxing, “and you feel so good, my Star.” His forehead falls onto Astarion’s shoulder, the spice from his cologne overtaking his senses. He’s trying to control his speed, but his head grows cloudy with the rocker’s heady scent and he pushes a little too fast. Astarion cries out in response and Halsin instinctively pulls out slightly.

“No, please don’t stop,” Astarion mewls pathetically, “I can take it, I need you inside me, please Halsin.”

“So hungry,” Halsin laughs, “but for my cock or my blood, I wonder?” Astarion clings to his hair and tightens his legs, pulling Halsin in completely until he bottoms out. They both groan loudly, their voices mixing together in a symphony of hedonistic desire.

“Hnng, such a good boy,” Halsin wheezes and tilts his head, exposing his neck. “My good boy has earned his reward.” Astarion sinks his fangs into Halsin’s thick jugular and drinks deeply, his sweet blood flooding his mouth and rushing directly to his cock. He grabs onto the collar of Halsin’s button down, his breaths coming in short stuttered puffs with each thrust of Halsin’s cock. Halsin growls wordlessly into Astarion’s ear, his lips brushing against the tip. Astarion unlatches from Halsin’s neck, blood dripping down his front and splashing onto his chest, seeping easily through his mesh shirt.

“Must you always leave a mess wherever you go?” Halsin grumbles and Astarion lasciviously licks blood off his fingers.

“But you’ll put up with it for this tight little hole,” he responds with a cheeky grin, the recent blood he drank making him bold. Halsin roughly pulls out of him and grabs the leather collar around his neck, pulling him closer.

“What was that about me punishing you for a good reason?” he hisses, and before Astarion can respond the burly elf has him flipped around and bent over the desk, his rock hard cock caught between the smooth mahogany and the leather strap across his stomach. Halsin grabs hold of Astarion’s silver locks and pulls his head up as he continues fucking him from behind.

“You’ll clean up after yourself, won’t you little Star? Say ‘Yes, Daddy Halsin.’” Halsin’s voice is gruff and stuttered, and Astarion can tell he’s getting close. The friction from Halsin’s thrusts pushing his cock into the desk is bringing Astarion to the precipice as well.

“I thought you didn’t like it when I called you that,” Astarion rasps, his words losing some of their sharp edge given how strangled they are. Halsin pulls harder on Astarion’s hair and the rock star gasps out a laugh.

“Yes, Daddy Halsin,” he huffs, and his compliance earns him Halsin’s hand on his cock. He groans with relief, pushing his hips back into his manager’s while also thrusting into his hand.

“My beautiful Star,” he grunts into Astarion's shoulder, his thrusts losing pace and growing erratic. Astarion lets his head fall back, breathing heavy, losing himself in the sensations. Halsin pumps his hand vigorously and moans loudly when Astarion comes, his seed spilling over his fingers and dripping down onto the desk. A few more rough thrusts and Halsin's coming too, groaning and feeling Astarion clench around his pulsing cock.

The two of them still, panting and coming down off their sex-induced high. Halsin kisses Astarion’s shoulder and pulls out, stepping back to survey the damage. He has blood splattered across his collar and down his arm, sweat and semen mix together in the crumpled mess of papers on the desk. Astarion leans forward on his hands, giggling.

Halsin tucks his softening cock back into his pants and straightens his bloodied shirt.

“Well now,” he says in a much more genial tone, “you can get started on cleaning up all of this, and I think I'll go take a shower.” Astarion whips around, fixing Halsin with a shocked glare.

“There is no way in hell am I cleaning up this mess,” he pouts, and Halsin hooks a finger through the o-ring on Astarion's collar, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.

“You will, little Star, if you don't want the hotel damages to come out of your bottom line,” he murmurs, reaching around and giving Astarion’s bare ass cheek a tight squeeze. “But I suppose you've earned the right to clean yourself up first.” He tugs on Astarion's collar and the musician stumbles forward, his lips curling into a smile as Halsin leads him to the shower in the adjacent room.

246 notes · View notes

araneapeixes · 1 month

Text

lesbian bed death - goth girls are easy

Support me on Patreon <3

#fucking emergency. the girl at the bar is butch bait and she knows it and will use it to her advantage #i spend several hours shading this and then i realised it looks better flat #anyways this isnt the end of them in bars and clubs. i still have a very vivid image in my mind of karlach fucking shad in the bathroom #and i want to draw them as a band as well :))#and shadowheart and nocturne modern au. goddd #i could not come up with a better caption. but this song was my soundtrack to drawing this so!#bg3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 art #shadowheart #karlach #karlach cliffgate #lae'zel #baldurs gate 3 #fanart #art #shadowlach #shadowzel #bg3 modern au

7K notes · View notes

kylobith · 2 months

Text

Little Town Tails

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: After saving up for years, Halsin fulfils his dream and opens his veterinary practice in a quaint little town.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 1,441

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Sunlight pierces through the cherry blossoms, dancing upon the cobblestone of the old arched bridge leading into Heawick. It is a quaint little town, tucked away between rolling hills dotted with hazel trees, a grove, and meandering streams. No modern architecture has defaced its landscape, leaving its traditional limestone facades to stand the test of time, which they did brilliantly.

After all, anybody lucky enough to settle down in Heawick can only fall in love with its old streets and picturesque shopfronts, and this urged most of the inhabitants to care for the outside of their homes almost as much as they did the inside. Those who are too old to tend to them can usually rely on the kindness of good-hearted neighbours, who do not hesitate to lend a hand for anything. Trimming the growing ivy without removing it, plucking juicy fruits from branches, cleaning windows; there is never a task too daunting when it comes to helping out.

It is early on a spring morning and the elderly man who lives nearest to the bridge has already been up and about for hours to water every planter lining up the road and hanging from the old lampposts with their flaky paint. Another project held captive in the neverending pile of documents and forms on Mayor Ravengard’s desk.

The bakery at the corner of the first crossing has long finished its first batches of pastries and bread, filling the air with mouthwatering scents. A few souls are already dragging their feet to its doors, still wiping the sleep out of their eyes as they seek some warm breakfast. On the opposite side of the street, a sweaty young man carries crates full of fruits and vegetables. He sets them up outside the greengrocer's shop, ensuring they are stable enough to sustain the shaking and bumping of passersby and customers.

Near the tiny park at the heart of the town, some owners walk their dogs, waving at neighbours and friends, wishing one another good morning when they have enough caffeine in their veins to wake them up. The barber reads his newspaper on one of the benches, seizing the opportunity to enjoy the first beautiful day of the season before going to work.

All is well in Heawick, as it always is. It is rarely eventful since so few people inhabit it.

‘Come here, Scratch. Good boy.’

While giving the white dog a loving pat between the ears, Halsin turns the sign on the door, officially opening his practice. He leans casually against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the world beyond his house, a triumphant surge coursing through his veins. So many years of hard labour and sacrifice, this seemingly small victory holds the weight of a lifetime’s worth of dedication and perseverance.

After perusing office space offers on every website known to man and visiting many a wretched place, having found this little corner of paradise to establish himself was nothing short of a miracle. And what a place it is!

Everything is ready for him to welcome his first furry patients. After renovating the place himself, he designed a welcoming surgery for owners and animals alike, creating an environment in which he would not mind staying for hours on end every day. Each nook and cranny has been sterilised for the animals’ well-being and he dedicated a corner for the comfort of his own dog, whom he expects to become his official assistant. Photographs of Scratch and the pets of friends from his hometown printed on canvas are the only decorations in the waiting room, ornamenting the otherwise dull, pastel-blue walls. At the welcome desk, a duck he whittled himself sits on top of the counter between two bowls of treats; one for the pets, one for the anxious owners.

Karlach, his newly hired assistant, insisted on having more decorations brought in, but Halsin was more than hesitant to indulge her. While the young woman certainly is enthusiastic enough for both of them, he can tell that if he does not put his foot down, the practice would have stuffed animals from floor to ceiling.

After giving the place yet another proud look, Halsin walked over to the reception, sneaking a treat to Scratch on the way. He sits behind the computer and plays old-timey folk music from his music library. He stretches his back and spins around on his chair, kicking his feet.

Now he just has to wait.

While one of his favourite songs plays, he browses the latest wildlife photographs on the National Geographic website, smiling at the wholesome snapshots and zooming on each of them to observe any detail capturing his attention. He is halfway through the second page and sipping his cold herbal tea when the door opens and the little bell tinkles. His eyes shoot up and he stands from his chair.

But it is no patient. It is merely Melly, the baker’s mother, who comes to bring him some fruit pastries wrapped up in a small lavender-coloured box topped with a bow. As soon as she catches a glimpse of him, her eyes illuminate and she gives him a wave.

‘Good morning, Halsin, dear!’ she chimes.

Grinning from ear to ear, he bypasses the desk and comes to shake the old lady’s hand. Curled up on his cushion, Scratch looks up, but ignores her arrival and goes back to sleep.

‘Good morning, Melly,’ he greets her back. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, nothing, love, nothing at all! I came to see how you were faring on your first day.’

Halsin gazes around with a chuckle.

‘It has been quiet so far. In fact, you are the first person to walk in.’

‘Is that so? Ah, well, do not worry, dearie. The people in this town have been praying for a doctor and a veterinarian closer to home for decades. They will come.’

The thought warms up the man’s heart. Not that he has been worrying about the lack of patients so far, but he has come to wonder on multiple occasions about how long it would take for the first appointments to come in. He has bills to pay after all, and the renovation of what used to be a woodworker’s shop was not cheap, no matter how many things he did himself to save up on better equipment.

‘Would you like some tea, Melly?’

‘Oh, no, darling, thank you,’ she chuckles with a dismissing wave of her hand. The old woman hands him the lavender box. ‘I brought you this, thought you might need a little encouragement for your first day.’

‘How lovely of you, thank you!’

‘I will not linger, I fear that my old face would scare even the sickest hound away,’ she jokes while patting his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to take some of your business cards to display at the bakery? I’m sure that my son would not object.’

Melly does not even wait for him to respond before grabbing a quarter of the cards neatly stacked on the countertop. She shoves them in her cardigan’s pocket. The garment seems to have survived many decades, yet has retained its charm. Halsin always finds himself smiling at the sight of the ducks knitted around the waistline, complementing the beige diamond stitches all over it.

‘Do you need me to bring you lunch later, love?’

‘No, Melly, thank you. I have already planned my next few meals, but it is nice of you to offer.’

‘Very well,’ she smiles, patting his cheek. ‘You know where to find me if you need anything.’

‘I do. Thank you for everything.’

Out of courtesy, he accompanies her to the door, the pastry box seeming so tiny in his large palm, when it is a normal size in anybody else’s grasp. Before leaving, Melly turns to look at him, running a wrinkled finger underneath her chin.

‘Where is that eccentric assistant of yours? Is she not helping you today?’

‘Karlach? Oh, she is touring the neighbouring towns to leave calling cards in shops and town halls.’

‘Oh, good, good. What a tempest, this girl!’

Halsin laughs, scratching the back of his head.

‘She is, but I am sure that the animals will love her. I can already tell that she will love them first anyway.’

‘Well, as long as she works well…’

Without adding another word, Melly crosses the road, absent-mindedly waving at him while she looks around for cars. Once the old lady has returned to the bakery, Halsin takes a deep breath of countryside air and moves to close the door.

That is when he sees her.

56 notes · View notes