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astarion-approves · 9 months

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Peeping Tav Astarion X Male Tav

A master at his kink, Tav found a new target of his dreams. The tall, pale, and handsome ‘Astarion.' A chef that works long hours, with a body built of marble, and a home filled with easily accessible windows. But Tav may have bitten off more than he can chew. Will he be able to see his target in all of his glory? Or will he become the one that's targeted? Part 1 of ?

NSFT, Peeping, Peeping Tom, Kinks, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era, Hand Jobs, flesh light, chef Astarion, Anal Fingering, POV First Person

Read below or read on Ao3

Hello, my name is Tav and I’m addicted to peeping.

Most would agree that peeping is a disgusting habit, and they would be right. Call it what you want, Peeping Tom, Ogler, Rubberneck, Onlooker, Voyeur, and so on. I’ve tried to stop, many times, but it’s just so damn addictive. Watching a stranger undress, them unknowingly giving me a show while I jerk off right outside their window?

There’s no better feeling.

Just knowing that they have no idea I’m right there , hiding in a tree or crouching in some bushes, maybe even standing there with no coverage at all… and I’m hard as a rock, my free hand over my mouth as I cover any moans that may slip through as I pleasure myself to their naked body. Eyeing them up and down as they become comfortable in their home, a place that they consider safe but it’s anything but.

And it wasn’t as if I was your ‘typical’ peeper. Normally I would just go out a few times a week, not every night like some of the guys I knew. On top of that; I wouldn’t upload my recordings online like some creep, that content was only meant to be enjoyed in my own home. Where, ironically enough, I close my blinds. Plus, I looked alright for the most part. My clothes fit well, I was in decent shape, and I’ve been told that I was good looking. Shaggy brown hair, light green eyes, and little dimples. What more could you love? Well… maybe minus the whole peeping part, but really, you’d never suspect me. Just look at me, friendly as ever, not a man that stands outside your window and jerks off!

Right. Moving on...

Peeping starts off simply enough.

First, I find a target. Someone handsome, preferably in great shape with plenty of muscle, and a nice plump bottom. I could find them anywhere, at the store, the park, a movie theater, even just walking down the street. I keep myself open to new opportunities.

I tend to obsess over one person at a time, which comes to my second step: learning their basic schedule. What time they wake up, when they have breakfast or head to work, if they’re single or dating someone, what they do in their spare time - and most of all; where they undress in their home .

Thirdly, after doing my research, I plant myself outside their window and chase after the perfect orgasm. If their bedroom is on the second floor and they keep their blinds shut I’m shit out of luck. However , a single story home with plenty of windows is a real treat.

The perfect man, the perfect schedule, and a perfect home - it can be extremely difficult to find all three at once… sometimes you just have to settle.

But, god damn , if I haven’t found the most handsome man to follow these last few weeks.

His name is Astarion, even his name rolls off my tongue like something to be savored. A professional chef that works long hours but makes sure to fit in a quick workout at the gym around 3 o’clock everyday before he goes to work. He would always wear thick, dark clothing, covering his entire body, before changing into a semi revealing pair of shorts and sneakers. And then he would begin his workout.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve followed him to the gym, I even went so far as to get a membership myself just to watch him. I would walk on the treadmill with him directly in my view, my cock tucked up and into the waistband of my shorts to disguise myself as I grew hard just from watching him.

One day I'd have to thank him for helping me stay in shape.

The man’s body was like marble, carefully carved, smooth, and flawless. It was almost like he didn’t need to work out, that he was naturally built to look like a god among men. Thick thighs, a thin waist, a great set of abs, a delicious ass, and features so handsome that he made anyone he encountered swoon. His hair was as a cool silver in color and his skin was as light as snow, like a dusting of snowflakes that would shimmer from sweat that I ached to lick off him. It would make my mouth water as I watched him lift weights with ease, Astarion grunting when he added more weight and pushed himself harder… and all I could imagine were those grunts happening because of me.

It was becoming a fantasy of mine to straddle him as he worked out. To feel his length beneath my bottom, grinding on him as a reward for completing each and every set, then dragging him into the locker room to drop down onto my knees and finally get a taste of that hot, sweaty cock.

A cock which I have yet to get a proper view of, try as I might.

Astarion was a fan of speedy showers after his workout, ones that didn’t give me the opportunity to get a good look at anything besides his ass. Which, I’m not exactly complaining about. The desire to bury my face between those buns and have a full on feast was almost overwhelming. However, with his strength, his beauty, and his sweet soothing voice - I needed to see that dick. And his lightning fast showers in the gym showers weren't enough.

Tonight… I was determined to finally get a peek. I had a plan. A… well, a simple plan that burned a small hole in my wallet but would hopefully work out in the end.

At 5 o’clock in the afternoon Astarion would be heading to work. He wouldn’t return for a while, around eight to ten hours, depending how his shift went. He was a great chef by the way, always in control of his kitchen, serving delicate little dishes that cost almost a quarter of my rent. It was hard to believe that such strong hands could create such beautiful and delectable dishes…

Anyway…

After work, anywhere between 1 o’clock and 3 o’clock in the morning, he would head directly back to his home, an adorable little one story brick house with seemingly more windows than walls and enough large bushes to conceal anyone. Perfect for me, not so perfect for him. Astarion would jump in the shower, or so I assumed as it was the only room in the entire house with a fogged window, then, and this was the best part, Astarion would stroll around his home completely nude.

Did I mention how fucking gorgeous Astarion was?

It wasn't something he had always done, a more recent development really. And fuck how I loved it. In the beginning he would get dressed in the bathroom, throwing on some pajamas and a towel over his shoulder to continue drying his hair. But as the weather grew warmer, he began waltzing out through his home with nothing on. Only the towel over his shoulder on top of his head.

The only problem was, he never got close enough to the fucking window s. He was always moving, always doing something to prevent me from getting the view I so desired. I would film him night after night, hoping to record his dick up close and personal; but I was never so lucky.

If he was lying on the couch in his living room? The coffee table hid him.

Sitting in his kitchen with a cup of tea? His legs were crossed.

Resting in bed while he scrolled through his phone? The towel was over his lap.

It was torture. Slow, painful, blueballs for weeks: torture .

At one point, I considered knocking on his door myself, hoping that he wouldn’t cover up and would just answer the door with his dick out. I quickly gave up on that idea when he received a late night delivery and threw on a pair of shorts. Which he kept on the rest of the night and I went home more frustrated than ever.

A few other times he would have different women over at his place at random hours. Either bringing them home with him or they would show up just as the sun was beginning to rise. Seriously, who agrees to a one night stand at nearly six am? …. Okay , I would. With Astarion that is. Really… I’m just being jealous.

Well, whenever they showed up, Astarion would always close the blinds, hiding their coupling from any possible prying eyes. Basically just me . And I would give up, not bothering to stick around to see them leave. I had no doubt they were leaving with wild sex hair and a blissed out ‘just fucked’ expression as they shuffled back home.

Again. I was jealous . But I’ve spent weeks trailing after this target, the longest amount of time I’ve ever spent watching a single person, and I was damn close to giving up. I can only chase after someone for so long before I just become exhausted . Astarion was worth it, holy fuck was he worth it , but I was getting more and more impatient as each night passed.

This entire time I’d never seen him jerk off. Which was… unusual . Most single men were taking any chance they got to take care of those urges. But not Astarion. Maybe it was because of the women he brought home? But even then that was only once or twice every few weeks... Or perhaps he was fulfilling those urges in the morning after I’d gone home for the night? Either way, I needed to see him, I needed to see him fuck his own hand and finish all over his stomach and fat pecs.

So, a few days ago, I ordered a special delivery for Astarion and prayed that he would… partake in what I sent. Straight porn, gay porn, lesbian porn, videos and magazines, butt plugs, a fleshlight, flavored lube, regular lube, hell I even sent massage wands. Anything to get this man to touch himself with the blinds open and in a perfect view just for me .

He saw the package on his door as soon as he got home that night, his brows dipping down in confusion as he read his own name on the label before carrying it inside. I was practically giddy as I watched him forgo his shower and unbox everything in his living room instead. He was confused as ever as he pulled out each item. He studied everything as they were revealed, even flipping through each magazine and shaking his head in disbelief as he did.

I didn’t miss the small twitch of his thin lips when he flipped and paused through the gay magazine. He paused and kept looking through it! Score!

And then out came the clear flesh light.

The way his eyes lit up was one of the most adorable reactions I’ve ever seen. As if this was never an option for him, that he never even considered using a toy like this to pleasure himself. For a moment, it was like the heavens opened before me. A light shined through the window and embraced Astarion in a glow that could only be described as angelic as he began to remove his clothing. His strong arms gripping the bottom of his shirt and lifting it above his head and throwing it to the floor, his long and elegant fingers quickly unbuttoning his slacks as he yanked them down -

And then.

There it was.

A dick worth waiting for.

It hung gently against his thigh, soft and relaxed, a little darker than the rest of his body, a touch of pink at the tip like the most perfect rose - and it was everything that I imagined. Astarion sat back down onto his couch, directly in front of his window, and uncaring of any eyes that could see as he reached for his new toy and a bottle of one of the lubes.

I chewed my lip and slipped my hand down to the waistband of my joggers and carefully pulled them down to expose myself to the cool night air. I was already hard, my cock sensitive to the touch from my own hand due to lack of use. But finally, finally , all of my work would pay off.

Astarion poured a generous amount of lube over his shaft, pumping himself lightly until he came to full thickness. I found myself sneaking closer to the window, Astarion's eyes were pointed down and to the magazine beside him - if I stayed quiet and still out of his view… it would be easy to get away with.

But I wasn't so sure I could hold back once Astarion slipped the flesh light down onto himself.

He let his head drop back and let out a loud, needy moan; so loud I could hear it outside with his decorative bushes between us. Astarion moved his hand slowly, allowing himself to indulge wholly into the pleasure the toy could offer him. His grip would tighten around the toy as he worked it up and over the tip of his dick, and then loosen as he brought it back down to the base.

The toy was too small for him, I learned this after Astarion began to fuck it with a little more desperation. As he brought it all the way down his length, the upper half would pop though the top, revealing his glistening tip which was now turning a deep red as he continued to jerk himself off.

My own hand was moving to match Astarion's as he fucked into the toy, now with his eyes closed and no longer looking at the magazine. This was a moment that would be burned into my memory for the rest of my life… the most gorgeous man before me, gasping and moaning, his hips beginning to lift off the couch and fuck even harder into the toy I've provided for him -

" Fuck ," I moaned, my voice quiet but I couldn't hold back any longer, it slipped out of me. I was so close to finishing, so close to shooting my load all over Astarion's bushes just outside his window, my first orgasm in weeks right there and ready to blow. For a moment, a quick brief second , I closed my eyes as I nearly finished–

And when I looked back to where Astarion sat: he was gone.

My hand stilled, fear enveloping my body as I frantically scanned the now empty living room in front of me. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Even the fleshlight was missing, meaning he was in such a hurry he took it with him.

My moan must have alerted Astarion, he most likely saw me outside his window with my dick out and about to apply a fresh layer of white to his house. I knew that Astarion was fast, and that more than likely he was sprinting for his cellphone and about to call the police. If I moved fast enough, I could have my pants jerked back up and get to my car before they arrived–

"And what do we have here…?"

I froze, my entire frame unable to move as a cool body pressed against my back. One hand appeared on my left hip before sliding under my shirt and coming to rest on my stomach. A warm breath cascaded down my throat as he spoke again.

"Don't let me ruin your fun, darling. Keep going."

Words were lost, the ability to move was gone, my breathing short and labored, everything inside of me telling me to run. But I couldn't. There was nothing I could do as my target stood behind me, teasing me, knowing that I was completely at Astarion’s mercy.

There was no telling what his plan was. If I were to keep going would he drag me into the street and call me a pervert? Was he secretly recording me and planning on exposing my dirty kink to the world?

"Relax," Astarion purred into my ear, chucking as he slowly slid his hand down my stomach and stopped just before my groin. "I won't bite."

"I'm sor–" I tried to speak, to blurt out some kind of apology; but Astarion shushed me before anything could be said.

"Hush. I think it's only fair I get to play with you now… wouldn't you agree?" Before I could register what was happening, Astarion was yanking my joggers down to the ground and slipping my dick into his used fleshlight.

" Oh ." Astarion gave me no time to react, his right hand gently swiping the toy up and down over my cock while his free hand moved even lower to massage my balls as he jerked me off.

"Feel good?" Astarion asked, his voice dipping lower, turned on, needy, almost out of breath and it was because of me.

I nodded, my mouth hanging open but words still far, far away from me as I allowed Astarion to work my length with his skilled hands. He gave me pleasure the same way he had to himself, slow at first, focusing on my tip and applying careful, gentle pressure as he eased my cock in and out of the toy.

"Such a pretty little human." Astarion's cock was hot and heavy resting against my back, although he was dressed now, I could feel his length pressing into my lower back as he forced me into his chest.

Wait, 'human' ?

Astarion peeled his left hand away from my balls, leaving me panting and missing the feeling of his hands massaging me there–

And then his hand was on my ass, easing between my cheeks and pressing a single finger against my entrance. I almost buckled over, gasping as he softly caressed my hole with a slicked fingertip.

"Oh, you dirty boy. You love that, don't you?"

" Yes ," I hissed as he managed to slip the tip of his middle finger inside. It has been so long, far too long, since I've touched my own ass. And now Astarion, my perfect target of all people, was the first to touch me in months.

"So… tight," Astarion spoke almost as if he was in disbelief. The back of my shirt was damp from his precum, only turning me on further as I felt his dick twitching and rubbing on his cool precum all over my back.

I was close again. As much as I fought it… it was impossible to hold back any longer. I was trying to savor Astarion's touch as he worked my dick and fingered my ass, it was all too much. I was shaking in his arms, my hips weakly pushing forward and back, trying to get as much of Astarion's lubed finger up my ass and as much pressure over my cock head to finally cum.

"Come on, cum for me," Astarion whispered into my ear, his lips bushing over my skin as he spoke. His middle finger reached as deeply as it could, titling up and pressing against the bundle of nerves that made me break.

I threw my body back against him, my hips jerking wildly as I finished into the fleshlight. Cum spilled over the top of the toy and down the sides until it coated Astarion's fingers leaving a dirty mess behind. Astarion groaned alongside me, his head ducking into my neck and biting down harshly as my cum cascaded down his knuckles….

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Let me know if we need a part two ;P

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astarionapologist · 3 months

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Astarion×M!Tav plsplspls I can't find anything w/ M!Tavs anywhere I'm gay and going insane helllllp

Oh boy oh boy did I hopefully deliver with this (praying I did LMAO)

Prompt: Fluff with Astarion and His majesty (little cat in The Last Nights Inn) and some smut in the l middle (OoHh tav has a spicy dream and both tav’s and Astarion’s tadpol’s connect wink wink)

Warnings: Cursing, smut, anal, and other sex related things such as preparation

Midnight Revelations at The Last Knights Inn (Astarion x M! tav)

You and your team have finally made it to The Last Knights Inn, you were all currently unpacking for the night setting up your bed rolls in a spare room Jaheira welcomed you too.

You sat down with a sigh as you finally let your exhausted body relax underneath the moist yet soft bed. It was at least better than sleeping on the earth swallowed completely with The Shadow Curse you thought. You looked upwards and saw the pale elf scratching behind the ears of His Majesty himself! Which of course is the resident king of the land living off warm milk and a soft bed to keep his whiskers warm and safe despite living in darkness. Asterion engaged in playful banter with the cat, his words so soft they seemed almost to form a conversation, as if he could truly understand its feline language. Curious, you stepped forward.

"You seem to be having quite a good time," you observe, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Well, indeed, my dear," he replied with a hint of affection, gently scooping up the warm, contented feline. "It's quite difficult not to revel in the company of such a peculiar yet utterly captivating companion."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were actually holding a conversation with him," you quipped, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

He scoffed at your attempt to tease him. "Heaven, forbid I find good conversation elsewhere! Goodness knows I can't seem to find it among any of you," he retorted, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You chuckled, "Oh, come on, you know I'm all the conversation you'd ever need, anyway."

"Oh? Is that what you believe?" His captivating smile served as a lure, drawing you in. "A man with my appetites would require far more," he said coyly, his gaze holding yours with an enticing intensity.

You clicked your tongue in mock disappointment. "Ah, what a shame," you remarked sarcastically, "and here I thought we were getting along famously... quite the pity."

"Oh, my dear! Have I truly started to rub off on you that much?" he exclaimed with a touch of amusement. "You sound so much like me~ I'm delighted to see you've at least learned from the best."

"But of course!" you exclaimed, a playful glint in your eyes. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to flirt with someone as adorable as you." You reached out to pet the cat, only to be met with a loud hiss as it quickly scampered out of Astarion's arms.

He sighed in disappointment, shaking his head lightly. "You scared the poor kitty off... seems your charms aren't as potent as you believe. Perhaps you didn't learn from me" he teased, punctuating his remark with one of his signature chuckles.

"Oops... My apologies for scaring him off... Didn't realize he hated me that much," you said sheepishly, a giggle escaping as you recalled the image of the cat's irritated expression when you attempted to scratch the same spot Astarion had carefully tended to.

"It's quite alright, handsome~" he remarked, a playful twinkle in his eye. "If you wanted my attention, you could have just said something~ No need to scare off the competition," he added with a teasing grin.

You gave him a small peck on the cheek, a fond smile playing on your lips. "You're a riot," you remarked, rolling your eyes affectionately.

"Among many other things," he replied with a smirk, his hand finding your waist and pulling you closer into a deeper kiss.

"Oh, please, contain yourself," you chuckled, gently pushing him away. "Let's just take a breather, shall we? The last thing we need is to expend more energy on... certain activities."

"Oh, you're such a killjoy, darling~" he teased, a playful pout forming on his lips. "But if that's what you want, I'll comply, I suppose," he added with a mischievous grin.

You scoff yet again and finally prepare yourself for bed, you lay in your bed, roll onto the bed (I would not trust them crusty ass prehistoric sheets) and quietly retire for the night.

As sleep enveloped you, you finally found solace, allowing yourself the indulgence of dreaming about him – your cunning and seductive lover. In your dreams, there was nothing but the desire to whisk him away to a serene and secluded place, where you could openly express your true feelings for him. You yearned to reveal how deeply your body and heart longed for him, how every fiber of your being craved his presence in every way possible. In truth you loved him and wanted nothing more than to take him and become with him when he was ready, when he was ready to connect with your body and soul.

(Nsfw part here)

You shamelessly still revealed the sensation of his perfect body beneath yours, imagining the softness and plushness of his form beneath your touch….

After kissing his beautiful, red lips, you gently lay him down, his hunger sated from feeding on your neck. You could taste the iron on your tongue as he pressed his own into yours, his warmth radiating from his body, fueled by the blood he had taken from you.

How he would gasp as you pumped yourself getting ready to enter his needy body. How you would very carefully prepare his body by placing one finger at a time in his puckering ass to prepare him for you. When he was ready you carefully pumped his aching hard cock as you rubbed the tip of your cock on the outside of his ass. Finally, as you entered him you would gently hold his face as your thrust moved from painfully slow to now dramatic and full of yearning. How you wished to do nothing more than to speak nothing but praise into his ear as he took you in so well and easy… Just as you felt the pressure in your abdomen ready to contract and fill him full of your seed… you feel a familiar hand on your chest… however this time it wasn’t in your dream, instead you opened your eyes to see a slightly red Astarion looking down at you with lust in his eyes.

(nsfw part end here!)

“Darling… had I known you felt this way... I would have told you sooner..” He whispered close to your ears.

"Fuck—what do you mean... 'know how I felt this way'?" you whispered fiercely into his ear, your voice tinged with confusion and frustration. "What in the hells are you talking about?"

“Well, Handsome, it appears our charming guests have keenly picked up on your yearning for me and subconsciously connected with each other” he remarked with a playful grin.

"But fret not, my love. I don't mind at all. While I may not be fully prepared for something as intense just yet, the way they seamlessly connected, mirroring your feelings towards me—it's truly something special. Darling, I'm more than grateful to have you by my side," he said softly, planting a tender kiss upon your forehead.

“I… I don’t know what to say… I’m mortified for one… but still please know that this doesn't mean you should rush into anything and-” Before you could finish, he was already shushing you.

"Yes, my darling, I understand, and I appreciate your respect for my boundaries. But I must admit, that dream was utterly delightful... And if you'd indulge me, perhaps we could explore those depths together," he confessed, a faint blush tinting his cheeks with vulnerability.

"Of course, darling. I'm here for you, ready to explore, experiment, and support you in every way you need," you replied with a warm smile.

"I'm truly fortunate to have you," he acknowledged, "but perhaps we can save that exploration for another time... If it's not too much to ask, may I sleep next to you tonight instead?"

You chuckled softly as you unrolled your bedroll, creating ample space for Astarion to snugly fit beside you. He nestled his head into the crook of your chest, finding comfort in your presence as he drifted into a peaceful and sound sleep for the night.

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pseudonymphomania · 4 months

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Here is my MC Beckett. Just a regular dude who was working as a director of operations and then he got Isekai’d into the Devildom. He wants to go home to his partner but he’s got to deal with all his new friends shenanigans and the fact that he now has the power to destroy the three realms. He sees Lord Diavolo and Lucifer bouncing around each other on the cusp of… something, and he spends the entire time removing obstacles to their love.

More lore from my universe.

#obey me male mc #obey me main character #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanart #dialuci #obey me dialuci #diavolo x lucifer #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #fanfiction #fanart #obey me nightbringer #otome asexual

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somorrow · 28 days

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No thoughts just wanting a view of Itachi playing the piano 😞 he’d be so hot doing it and very effortlessly

I know this wasn't exactly a request, but this gave me a thought, and I went with it. I'd love the sight of him playing too 🖤 He'd finally put the piano in your room.

It wasn't a hard decision to make, considering the only way you could be lulled into a truly peaceful slumber was with the sound of Itachi's playing.

Pregnancy was hard. Impossible, even. You were sick most days, and when you weren't, you could hardly function due to how tired you were. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you slept, it would never be enough. Your body was rebelling against you in order to provide for the life inside. So much for pregnancy being beautiful.

The melody stopped. You raised your head from your pillow to see why.

Itachi was facing away from the keys of the piano now, looking over his shoulder at you.

“Why did you stop?” You asked.

“I was hoping you’d fallen asleep. Still restless?”

“As always. Can you play again?"

Itachi looked down at his aching fingers for a moment, flexing his right hand. The joint in his thumb clicked quietly. He hoped you didn’t hear it. “Of course. Any requests?”

“Choose for me.”

Itachi hummed, reaching over the side of the bed to grab your hand. You smiled, bringing his knuckles to your lips.

“Thank you, Itachi.”

His eyes softened, and you dropped his hand to tuck yourself deeper into your blanket. He stretched out his left hand as well, preparing for another hour or two of playing.

“Nocturnes,” he said softly.

“All of them?”

He began the first few notes. “Naturally, my dear.”

You grinned and closed your eyes, trying to settle in as much as you could, being a stranger inside your own body.

#naruto #naruto imagines #reader insert #reader imagine #naruto fanfiction #naruto scenarios #uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha imagines #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #itachi scenarios #uchiha itachi imagines #uchiha itachi x reader #Raven's Musings: Naruto #The Male MC in my original work plays piano and i luvvvvv the trope/trait??? so much #also pregnancy is a different type of hell so this is true af tbh

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crowfeatherquill · 8 months

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To Aid and Be Aided, Pt. 2

Link to Pt. 1

That shocks Astarion fully back into his body -- possibly for the first time since they’d entered Szarr Palace.

“Go to-- excuse me?” Tathlyn shrinks away from Astarion’s sudden ire, but Astarion can’t find it within him to reign it back in. He’ll ask forgiveness later. For now, “Is that all you think this is? That you’re some…some disposable resource to be drained and discarded as soon as you’re no longer of use? To be-- consumed?”

Cazador’s voice echoes over his own as he says the word and it kills any trace of hunger that might have lingered, leaving only the cold nausea of dread in its wake.

“Well. Not discarded, I’d hope,” Tathlyn says and the rueful humor in his tone makes Astarion wish an eternity of violence on whoever did this to him, “I believe I’d be what the druids call a renewable resource. If properly cared for.”

Astarion rises part-way out of the water, flooding the stone and washing away most of the blood still lingering there. Tathlyn seems taken aback by this and Astarion uses the opportunity to take his face firmly in his hands and demand eye contact.

“Tathlyn. Darling. Heart of my heart, you are not a resource. Renewable or otherwise. No more than I am.”

Tathlyn tries to flinch away from the implication and Astarion holds him fast. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to manage this if he doesn’t do it now.

“I love you. I adore you and I’m…I’m grateful. That you’d be willing to do that for me after everything else I’ve put you through today. But you are not my mother or my sire, and I am very much capable of feeding myself.”

Tathlyn simply stares at him, looking somewhat in awe. It breaks his heart a little to think that a statement which seems so obvious to him should come as any sort of a surprise to Tathlyn.

“Now,” he continues, pushing past the quiver of emotion in his voice, “You are going to get in this bath -- with or without me, your choice -- and you are going to let me fix…this.”

Tathlyn’s expression shifts from awe to bemused indulgence with a slight twitch of one eyebrow and one corner of his mouth.

“Am I, now?”

“Yes,” Astarion replies, more firmly than he feels he should be able to get away with, “You are. Because…you wanted to know what I really wanted. And I’m telling you it’s this.”

Tathlyn’s brow takes on an uncertain tilt, but he leans his face into Astarion’s hands and closes his eyes briefly.

“Alright.” He is just as soft when giving in as he is when he insists. Every time Astarion thinks he can’t possibly love this man any more, Tathlyn finds new ways to defy expectations.

The way he removes his clothes is unceremonious and to the point. And with each article he sheds, it becomes more obvious that he has not actually paused to do more than the bare minimum since they returned from the crypt. Bruises bloom across his torso, some of them bad enough to imply cracked ribs, and though the gash on his arm seems to be the only one actively bleeding, there are several more scrapes and cuts that need tending. His hair is streaked with red and only roughly secured out of his face. His face, which, now that Astarion is really looking, is beyond exhausted. He looks as though he’s managed to miss several nights of sleep in the last twenty-four hours alone.

The whole thing makes Astarion ache for him, and sets his resolve tenfold. If no one else out there is going to bother taking care of him after everything he’s done for all of them, Astarion damn sure will. It’s the least he can do.

Once he’s stripped down to the skin, Tathlyn sinks into the water with a wince and a sigh. He leaves a respectful distance between himself and Astarion, which Astarion quickly closes, taking Tathlyn’s injured arm in soft, unhurried hands and beginning the process of washing the wound clean -- thoroughly clean. Tathlyn, to his credit, does not flinch, despite the way it must hurt.

When he’s finished, he lays Tathlyn’s arm gently on the side of the bath, out of the water, to be bandaged later, and moves on. He tends one injury at a time, with a singular focus, as the water grows cloudy again around them.

“Darling…” he ventures, “Have- have you stopped at all since we got back?”

“Took my armor off,” Tathlyn almost-mumbles, his usual enunciation sapped along with his flagging energy, “But, uh. No. Not really. Had to…make sure Halsin and Karlach were alright. And you. ‘Specially you.”

Astarion frowns and brushes the cleaning cloth over a raw scrape on Tathlyn’s jaw that he’d initially mistaken for a patch of dried blood. Tathlyn seems content to lounge, eyes closed, mostly still apart from the occasional involuntary wince.

“And…no one bothered to help you, did they?”

It’s a purposefully leading question, and not particularly subtle at that, and it doesn’t take long for Tathlyn to catch on to precisely where it’s meant to lead. He takes a slow, measured breath and levers himself forward, more upright. His exhale is equally measured, if constricted in pain. Astarion’s hand goes to his chest as if to stop him -- put him back to reclining where at least he’d seemed comfortable -- but Tathlyn just takes him by the wrist and presses through until he’s leaning forward, the two of them nearly touching foreheads.

With his free hand, Tathlyn takes Astarion by the chin, running his thumb over Astarion’s lower lip.

“Before you start, you should know I didn’t ask them to,” he says, and though it’s apparent he knows it was foolish, he seems more intent on diverting Astarion’s indignation. “No need to go crusading for justice on my behalf. This,” he indicates his own battered body, “is no one’s fault but mine.”

Astarion can’t help a derisive click of his tongue against his teeth as he pulls his chin away from Tathlyn’s grip -- though the hand Tathlyn has trapped against his chest stays where it is.

“It should’ve been obvious,” he gripes, “You shouldn’t have to ask -- you’re injured.”

Tathlyn has the unmitigated gall to laugh. Astarion seethes at the way the sound makes him fall in love all over again. How dare he be so disarming while Astarion is trying to maintain a perfectly reasonable level of scorn.

“I am also a grown man,” Tathlyn points out, fondness softening the edge of every word, “You said something to that effect just a bit ago. Something like…you’re not my mother and I can look after myself?”

Astarion tries to glower at him, but Tathlyn only shifts the hand he’d pulled away from to the nape of his neck and brings their foreheads back together, toying with Astarion’s hair until he shuts his eyes and lets out a forced breath of resignation.

“I’ll be alright, love,” he insists, “And anyway. Tell me you’re not enjoying bossing me around. At least a little?”

“As if I would ever admit it. I’d never get another chance.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

Astarion elects to ignore the things that thought does to his insides, pulling away from Tathlyn’s grip instead to survey the state of the water.

“We’ll need to clear this again,” he says, aiming for a businesslike tone and getting mostly ill-concealed fluster. “There’s still your hair to deal with and I refuse to try washing it in this murk.”

Tathlyn raises a brow and releases his grip on Astarion’s wrist.

“If there’s something you’d like me to do, you’re going to need to be a little more direct than that.”

Astarion is not really capable of flushing anymore, but his expression betrays that if he could be, he would be.

“Of all the times for cheek, now? Really.”

Tathlyn attempts an innocent shrug and fumbles into a cringe of pain partway through. Astarion starts back toward him and realizes he doesn’t know precisely where he can touch that will help rather than make things worse. The thought leaves his hands hovering, nervy and unsettled, until Tathlyn bats at the air in what he supposes is meant to be a gesture of dismission.

“S’alright. I’m okay. Promise.” He seems to second guess the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, and then, after a moment of re-assessment, “Nothing’s broken, at least. Pretty sure about that.”

“Then sit still, damn you. No more of this teasing, not if it’s going to hurt you.”

“Yes, nurse.”

Tathlyn’s expression should vex him, Astarion is quite sure, but somehow he can’t manage to stay upset with him for more than a moment. He turns his attention to getting the water clean -- a feat of magical engineering he might even be impressed by under less distressing circumstances -- and, perhaps a little reluctantly, pulls himself out of the bath to sit at the edge.

The air is cool against his skin -- not unpleasantly so, but enough that he can see why there are dressing gowns set aside in easy reach. Tathlyn is looking up at him with that curious furrow in his brow again.

“It’ll be easier with me up here,” he explains, “And behind you. If you don’t mind.”

Tathlyn hums, a sound on the crossroads of understanding and consent, and Astarion settles at his back, picking through the various soaps, oils, and perfumes as he goes.

The first thing is to pluck at the leather tie Tathlyn uses to hold his hair back until he’s able to get it to fall loose. It always takes him a little by surprise just how long Tathlyn’s hair is -- he so often wears it tied back that Astarion forgets. It’s a sorry sight as it cascades into the water -- dull, sweat-mussed, and somewhat tangled -- but this, of all the things he’s done, feels like familiar territory.

He coaxes Tathlyn’s head back so he can wet his hair all the way to the scalp, and begins the laborious process of working out the knots, dirt, and blood. He watches as he works, as Tathlyn seems to drift in and out of focus, evidently soothed the point of lethargy under Astarion’s careful attention.

“You know,” he says, in a precious moment of lucidity, “The Matrons used to do this. With each other, mostly, although sometimes trusted servants got to help.”

Astarion’s hands go still in Tathlyn’s hair but he restrains the comments that come to mind the quickest. Instead, he simply prompts, “Go on…?”

“It always seemed…like the kind of thing you only ever did for someone important,” Tathlyn elaborates, though Astarion is still not entirely sure what to make of where he’s going with this, “It was a privilege. To get to bathe somebody else. To be bathed was an even bigger one. It’s…nice. I guess. To feel special like that. With you. Not a servant.”

Astarion laughs softly and bends down to kiss Tathlyn’s forehead at the hairline.

“You are special to me, my sweet. Even if it seems I have to remind you every now and again.”

Eventually, Tathlyn’s hair returns to its usual color, and Astarion helps him adjust his posture so he can recline against Astarion’s legs while Astarion takes the now-clean strands into a towel he’s spread over his lap. He doubts Tathlyn will be awake long enough to let it dry completely, so he does what he can while he has the opportunity -- gets as much of the water out as he can reasonably manage and works it into a loose braid to keep it out of Tathlyn’s face.

As he works, Tathlyn goes more and more slack against his legs, so that by the time Astarion has well and truly finished with his hair and goes to move, he finds he’s pinned by what must be most of Tathlyn’s weight. He sighs -- more affectionate than he can really manage to be exasperated -- and brushes his knuckles across Tathlyn’s cheek and jaw, hoping to rouse him as gently as he can.

“Alright, you,” he says, “I think if we stay in this damp any longer we’ll start growing mold.”

Tathlyn shifts, but instead of leaning forward like Astarion expects him to, he presses stubbornly back against Astarion’s legs, pinning him more firmly in place.

“You said stay still,” he says, in the most wheedling tone Astarion has ever heard him use, “So I got comfortable. Now you want me to move?”

“I don’t suppose it would entice you at all to know that you’ll likely be more comfortable in a bed?” Astarion pushes back against Tathlyn with his knees, trying in vain to apply enough pressure to shift him without hurting him. “You know -- like the ones we paid for upstairs? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but they’re quite nice.”

“Seems cold,” Tathlyn responds, “I’ll stay here if it’s all the same to you.”

Astarion lets out another forced breath -- this one a bit more irritated than the last -- and gives one last fruitless shove against Tathlyn’s back before giving up entirely.

“And how would you know whether it’s going to be cold? You’re hardly even awake.”

“You’re cold,” Tathlyn insists, “Since you got out.”

“I am for all intents and purposes a corpse, darling. We’re not exactly known for retaining heat. And besides, that’s what the dressing gowns are for -- now are you going to get up on your own or shall I arrange for you to be lifted? Because I should warn you -- I’m not going to be able to do it, and the only person I can think of who could and isn’t currently recovering from a nasty bout of ‘dead-a-few-hours-ago’ is Lae’zel. And something tells me you’d rather I didn’t call her in here.”

“Hmmm. You make a very compelling argument,” Tathlyn concedes. Mercifully, he shifts his weight forward, freeing Astarion’s legs from his devious trap. “Could maybe use a little help, but I’ll try my best not to drag you in.”

It’s an awkward process, what with Astarion not being particularly strong, but between the two of them, they manage to get Tathlyn standing more or less on his own while Astarion finds what he judges to be the most comfortable of the selection of robes. He returns loosely draped in one that’s lightweight and a deep midnight blue -- more for modesty than any real insulation -- and offers the thicker one to Tathlyn.

While Tathlyn goes through the somewhat-stiffened motions of wrapping himself in the robe, Astarion stoops to pick through the injury kit they’d abandoned by the side of the bath for bandages -- the one thing there is left to do, now that Tathlyn is clean and mostly dry.

He holds his hand out, expecting Tathlyn to extend his injured arm and let him finish tending the wound, but instead finds himself taken by the arm and pulled into a tight embrace. Tathlyn’s body radiates warmth and he rubs one hand over Astarion’s back as if he’s attempting to encourage circulation. Astarion has to fight not to melt and forget the bandages entirely.

“Darling,” he clears his throat, pointedly, “This is lovely but I can’t actually get at your arm while we’re like this.”

“Leave it. It’ll heal.”

“Mmm, no, I don’t think I’ll be doing that. I am decidedly unwilling to let you stain those perfectly good linens. Now give it here. It won’t take long.”

They part -- though Tathlyn stays as close as Astarion will let him -- just long enough for Astarion to bandage Tathlyn’s arm securely, before Tathlyn pulls him back in and brings his head to rest on Astarion’s shoulder. Astarion presses a gentle kiss into the crook of Tathlyn’s neck and tries not to inhale too deeply.

“Y’know…offer’s still open, if you’re hungry,” Tathlyn says, as though that isn’t the furthest thing from Astarion’s mind at the moment.

“I think it’s about time we got you off your feet, hm?” he prompts in lieu of an answer, “You’ve had a very long day. We can leave that for tomorrow.”

Astarion’s words are quiet, coaxing, and not particularly subtle, but they seem to be enough to put the matter to bed at least for the time being. Tathlyn nods mutely into Astarion’s shoulder.

Their quarters are quiet when they enter -- many of their companions having retired to bed, and those who haven’t having settled into whatever evening routines they’ve begun to establish during their stay. Astarion and Tathlyn fall into bed together, as has been their habit for some time now, and though Astarion still has far too much to think about to find rest yet, Tathlyn sags against him as soon as they’re off their feet.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, the words mostly breath for Tathlyn’s ears alone, “Feeling any better, at least?”

“Mm,” Tathlyn adjusts his posture slightly more towards horizontal, and tugs Astarion with him, “Much, actually. Just…tired.”

“I’d expect nothing less, darling. You’ve been through so much.”

Tathlyn’s brow furrows and he shifts, slightly. Opens one eye.

“You too, though,” he says, tone taking on an edge of insistence, “You alright?”

Astarion pauses to think before he answers. Tathlyn’s weight rests comfortably against his side, still giving off vital, living warmth, and keeping him from drifting off beyond the confines of his own body again. The lingering phantom feeling of Cazador’s blood on his skin has faded entirely. Some pain remains on the periphery of his awareness, and the hunger still lurks, as it always does, but these things are not new, and not urgent. They can be addressed some other time.

“I am, I think,” he says, with as much finality as he can muster, “Or at the very least I’m on my way. Consider your duties fulfilled for the moment.”

Tathlyn yawns and settles deeper into his slump.

“Never stop taking care of you,” he mumbles, “But…that’s alright. For now.”

Astarion occupies himself running his fingers across Tathlyn’s back until he feels his lover’s breathing even out and deepen in rest. Tomorrow, all the crises of the oncoming apocalypse of the Absolute will surely crash back in on them, and Tathlyn will chase off after the next impossible errand -- and more than likely drag him along whether he cares what they’re doing or not. Odds are they’ll end the day just as battered and exhausted as they did today, if perhaps less distraught. But that’s to deal with after dawn. For now, none of it matters. They simply rest.

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lynnlovesthestars · 1 month

Text

Sleep tight.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Lynn, changeling sorcerer)

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: The shadowlands are not welcoming and Astarion needs help falling asleep

Warnings: Astarion overthinks the shit out of cuddles.

WC: 1.1k

AN: im sick, so sorry if there's any errors, i wrote this a few nights ago so idk if there's any errors, but covid got my ass. I will get back at answering the headcanons when im going to be able to type without feeling sick- so yeah. I hope u like it

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird Masterpost Kofi Patreon

The night dawned quickly over the tired group, the shadowlands had something in them that drained them of their energy. It could have been the constant fighting- or the gloom- but they were exhausted by the time they set up camp.

It was unsettling when everyone retired to their tents, even the ones known for being the loudest or chattiest were suddenly silent. Some even resorted to keeping their tents open- like Lynn- just enough to have a clue of what was going on outside since the silence took over before they even knew it.

The shadows lingering right at the edge of the small clearing haunted everyone as they tried to get as much rest as possible.

Lynn quickly discarded his clothes in the corner, grabbing his trusted blanket and wrapping it tightly around his body before tucking himself in his bedroll. It was a different type of cold that ran through everyone's body, it was rooted deeply in their bones and eating out as much as possible. They almost thought that the shadow curse was actually eating them alive if it wasn't for the Harper's reassurance before they had left the inn.

Nevertheless it didn't erase that overwhelming cold as they laid to sleep.

Lynn surprisingly didn't take long to chase the exhaustion, despite he didn't fully fall asleep, for the time being, dozing in and out of sleep was enough for him as he tried to picture a peaceful scene in his head.

A roaring fire, a plaid, Astarion clinging to him as they rested close and exchanged delicate kisses. What he imagined as peaceful in his quite stressful life.

Astarion paced back and forth in his tent, his body unable to stop fidgeting as he bit his nails and retraced his steps to find out where he fucked up.

"Shit, shit, shit" He facepalmed as he couldn't help but recall the way Lynn had held him those few times he had fallen asleep in his tent after a feeding.

His whole body was taught, impossible to fall in meditation when his head had other matters to focus on, so when he was thinking again of Lynn, and the way he held him, Astarion decided to give it a shot.

Astarion could never truly move on from it, he held him as if he had been precious, he placed soft kisses on his forehead and he'd gently scrape his nails on Astarion's body, or how his fingers tangled nicely in his curls as he gently massaged his scalp. He didn't know feelings well, but he was sure that was the closest he had even been to feeling loved.

And he wasn't even good at hiding how those pure touches affected him. Nothing could hide the blush on his cheeks or the goosebumps on his skin, the way he's clutch tighter to Lynn as if he was afraid he'd disappear.

He didn't have to feel anything more than whatever people that co-worked felt like, he rumaged as he stood in front of the flap of his tent.

He scoffed at himself as he pushed it open. "It's just making sure he's not dead" He thought. "I'm confirming he doesn't hate me yet" He strode past the rest of the tents to Lynn's, even as he walked he could peak inside, where the changeling was sprawled in his bedroll, his hair spread all over the place as he laid half asleep, staring at the cloudy sky.

The latter didn't notice him coming to a halt in front of the tent. "Lynn?" He kneeled close to the other as he placed his palm on his cheek, earning a 'mh' as the other turned to look at him. Lynn's eyes were glassy with sleep as he laid on his side. "Can I stay here with you?" Astarion managed to ask with an unfamiliar shyness he could hardly tame, while his pallid cheeks suddenlt burnt with heat.

Lynn simply nodded, lifting the duvet- still messily wrapped around him- and the bedroll's flap while his free hand gently grasped at Astarion's wrist and tugged him in. "Come here" He murmured once the elf didn't hesitate to sneak in the cocoon.

The warmth alone could have helped him sleep, but the closeness with Lynn truly had something he couldn't name that relaxed him.

Lynn didn't think it twice, his arms quickly found respite around Astarion's hips and pulled him to his chest, and the moment his naked legs tangled with Lynn's he swore everything was lifted off his back.

Lynn didn't as why Astarion was there or why he pocked him to rest with, he simpley accepted Astarion in the closed space as if it was something normal to do with him, and Astarion knew it wasn't.

Lynn barely allowed anyone to touch him, firmly reminded everyone to respect his personal space, and yet Astarion played by his own rules, just the fact that he was allowed to literally cling to his neck and feed off him was proof enough of it, no matter how many excuses he would recycle to the rest of the group. Astarion already knew back when Lynn had defended him from the gur, or when he had offered to show him what he looked like, that he was getting way too emotionally attached to him, and yet he couldn't help but sigh in the grasp. What sorcery was it? His body felt lighter and slipping in trance was way too easy.

Astarion gently cupped Lynn's cheek again, their noses brushing as the other closed his eyes and Astarion wondered if he could try and steal just one kiss before it was too late.

"Shit, do you need to feed?" Lynn rasped half dazed with low voice, clearly closer to sleep than what he knew.

"No, just wanted to thank you" He smiled while lingering close. Their lips were barely brushing as Lynn peacefully sighed and slowly blinked. "Rest well" He murmured before he closed the distance between them with a peck- although he swore he kissed his forehead- Astarion was left breathless with his eyes wide open.

"Sleep tight" He whispered back as he sunk in his chest and closed his eyes, allowing Lynn's heartbeat to lull him into trance.

It had been such a fleeting kiss that Astarion couldn't help but wonder how Lynn's lips would taste like, how his tender touch would be once they waked , how his eyes would soften once he'd notice how tightly they were holding each other, and how his lips would curly in a smile when he'd see how nicely their legs tangled together, and before he knew he was finally meditating, shielded by Lynn. That's how he knew he was safe, cause for once he didn't struggle or worry. He knew Lynn was going to be there when the sun- or the shadowlands equivalent- rose, he'd be in his hold.

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elfqueen006 · 28 days

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How would Jack deal with an MC that uses books as a distraction to avoid problems to the point that it's detrimental? Seriously, you can never find them without their nose in a book. Books that are academic books, art books, story books, ect. But they are mostly academic books.

At first, Jack thinks nothing of it. He's proud even, that instead of developing an unhealthy habit, you take to educational books in order to distract yourself. Still, it's not good to avoid problems forever. You still need to face them head on, eventually. Going into your own head isn't always the best course of action, even if you just need a moment to yourself.

If the books are really important to you and Jack picks up on it, he'll try to ease you away from it. Maybe sit by you and ask you a question or two, get you into the swing of a conversation long enough that you forget about the book.

When reaching a lull in the conversation, Jack is going to ask you about what's been making you so distant. He reminds you you're going to have to confront the issue soon. You won't be alone, of course! He's always going to be your cheerleader, partner, and confidante. You can come to him for anything!

If the issue is a whom, he can take care of that too. Either by guiding you into using the right words for that person, or taking care of it on his own...

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack fanfiction #sunny day jack #sdj jack #sdj x reader #sunny day jack x mc #sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack imagine #yandere male #my fics #inbox #elf speaks

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justcallmefox89 · 2 months

Text

Gnome Troubles Part IV (Astarion's POV)

TW: violence, blood, very brief allusions to Astarion's time with Cazador, short instance of Astarion's gnome racism

That smirk would be handsome on someone taller.

Astarion shakes off the errant thought as Wicket leaps from the tree, landing noiselessly in front of him. He takes a wary step back, realizing there is more to this necrobane than initially meets the eye. The vampire stumbles over a rock, losing his footing as Wicket lunges at him with a speed that rivals his own. Astarion manages to deflect the first blow, hissing as one of the stakes gouges into the pale flesh of his forearm. Wicket dodges behind him, driving his fist into Astarion’s lower back as his heel makes contact with the back of the elf’s knee.

Astarion crumples to the ground and makes an attempt to crawl away, but Wicket snatches his ankle and pulls him closer before pouncing on top of him. Astarion begins to panic at the weight pining him down as Wicket straddles his waist and raises a stake over his heart.

Groping hands in the dark… foul breath… rough, unwanted touches… the smell of unwashed bodies and sour ale…

Astarion bucks beneath Wicket, attempting to throw him off, and the stake misses its mark, stabbing into the soft dirt next to his head.

“Hold still, abomination!” Wicket snarls, scrabbling for the second stake and struggling to hold him down.

Not again, not again, not again, not again…

Astarion struggles wildly, caught in his memories like an insect in amber, barely aware of Wicket’s rough voice cursing in Gnim as he fights to retain his hold on him. Then… a blinding light and indescribable pain… Astarion is forcibly pulled from his memories and thrust into another’s.

Fire surrounds him, the smoke thick and choking… the wails of the dying mingle with the screams of children… Blood soaks the forest floor, glowing in the firelight… A single voice rises above the din – a small child crying out for her father…

“Get out of my head!” Wicket screams, drawing Astarion back into the present. The gnome is wild-eyed and sweating, silver-streaked hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks, his skin nearly as pale as Astarion’s. Taking advantage of his distress Astarion shoves him away and rolls to his feet, drawing his dagger.

Wicket staggers to his feet, still disoriented, with a stake in his hand and clearly still ready to fight. “What’s wrong with you?” he slurs.

“What?” Astarion asks, dumbfounded.

“Hands are shaking… scared… felt it with the worm…”

Astarion scowls. Apparently the tadpole had allowed Wicket a peek into his mind too. “Most people tend to be shaken when someone attempts to assassinate them, darling.”

The necrobane snorts, clearly not believing the lie. “As you say.” A pause. “Why are you so weak?”

“I beg your pardon?” Astarion stares down at the gnome in disgust. “Weak?”

Wicket stares back at him, expressionless.

Astarion lets out an annoyed huff. “If you must know, my master kept my diet very… controlled.”

“Explain.”

“Rats! Vermin! The occasional kobold!” The vampire throws his hands up in exasperation. “And only in small amounts, just enough to keep us alive but not strong enough to rebel.”

Wicket hums in contemplation and thinks a moment before darting off to his tent. His back before Astarion can object, goblet in hand.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, taking a wary step back.

Wicket tilts his head to the side and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “I don’t know what is going to happen or what potential dangers we will face as a result of our tadpoles. And leaving you alive could prove to be useful.”

The elf narrows his eyes in disbelief.

“If,” Wicket holds up one finger. “And only if you can keep your fangs to yourself… I’m willing to forgo my oath.”

“Of course, darling,” Astarion replies with a charming smirk. “This little venture will be so much easier if we’re all friends.”

But the very moment it appears you’re going to turn on me I will drink you.

Wicket grunts, looking like he already regrets his decision. As a curious Astarion watches he rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, then draws a small dagger from a hidden sheath in his boot. Wicket grits his teeth and braces himself, then slices a deep gash across his forearm. Before a drop of blood can hit the ground, Wicket has the goblet beneath the wound, catching each gloriously enticing drop.

The heady smell of the gnome’s blood has Astarion’s eyelids fluttering, and a small gasp escapes his lips. He briefly considers crossing the few feet that separate them and licking up the blood that drips down Wicket’s arm; finally gorging himself on the sustenance he’s so long been denied.�� Then his lip curls in disgust at the very thought. Gnomish blood is acceptable, but to actually press his lips to the flesh of one of the little beasts? He shudders at the very thought.

No, better to wait and see exactly what he’s up to.

After several long minutes the goblet is nearly full. Wicket whispers a few words of healing, and his wound closes up as if it were never there. He’s pale and clearly lightheaded from the blood loss, but somehow manages to remain standing.

“Here,” he mutters thrusting the goblet into Astarion’s eager hands. “We’re going to need you at full strength if you’re going to be any use to us. Don’t make me regret this.”

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lemonsprite · 5 months

Text

Fooling around || Sebastian Sallow x Male!Reader

Summary: you teach Sebastian to let loose a little

Word count:

Warnings: slight suggestive themes (?) nothing crazy just snogging (hate that term as an American)

A/N: might make a Verizon about Ominis where he’s jealous of m! Reader and Sebastian idk tho TT okay off topic I HATE JK ROWLING SO MUCH WITH A BURNING PASSION AS A TRANSGENDER but! I am also autistic and unfortunately have a special interest in Harry Potter (I’ve had one since I was nine) AND ITS SUCH A BAD CONFLICT I want to make content but at the same time don’t (anyways make sure you pirate Hogwarts legacy xoxo) NOT BETA READ IM SORRY

“Okay okay-“ smiled Sebastian, leaning backwards against the nearby wall of the undercroft. “I dare you…” he paused, thinking of what next to say. “To send Amit Thakkar an owl full of belch powder!”

“Godric’s Heart Sebastian that’s awful!” You exclaimed, rolling your eyes.

Sebastian tsk’d, waving a finger in front of your face. “Ah-ah-ah you choose dare, remember?” He smirked.

With a sigh you admitted your defeat, reluctantly producing a blank piece of parchment to begin your nasty prank. Despite your reluctance to this task, Sebastian had welcomed you in to the undercroft even with all his prejudice towards you in the beginning- part of you felt like you had to go along with his dare even if it was a bit cruel (and a little funny).

Having never played many muggle games growing up, you’d thought now would be a better time than ever to introduce Sebastian to the wonderful word of ‘Truth or Dare’. Part of you regretted that decision now, with how wonderfully he was adapting to the game already.

“Alright Sebastian- Truth or dare?” You ask, not looking up from your letter.

“Truth.”

“Got any one in the castle you fancy?”

Sebastian’s silence is what finally drew you from your letter, looking up to meet his flushed gaze.

Part of you had expected a ‘no.’ After all, Sebastian never struck you as the romancing type, but seeing his face dusted in pink wasn’t unwelcome- in fact you quite liked the look on him. A voice in the back of your head urged you to make him blush more often.

You raised your eyebrow at him, prompting him to answer.

Sebastian whispered something, you could not make it out.

“What?” You asked, staring at him confusedly.

“You.” He whispered.

“Me what?”

“You- I Like you!” Sebastian exclaimed, his voice raising in frustration at your obliviousness.

Oh.

That went from zero to one hundred.

There was silence for what felt like eternity before you let out a small chuckle, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice Sebastian had brought the two of you.

He stared at you, his eyes a mixture of emotions.

Sebastian began hurriedly covering up his earlier confession. “I know you probably think that strange- I mean a boy liking another boy? Weird right anyways-“

“I like you too.” You said, staring at him over your cup of juice.

That effectively stopped Sebastian’s rambling, he peered at you- bewildered.

“But… but we’re both men?”

“And?” You asked. “Back where I’m from It’s quite normal for boys our age to fool around with each other before we marry- course’ I feel like we should all just be able to marry whom ever we want, never really found myself fancying girls.” You ranted, waving your hand animatedly in the air. All the while Sebastian stared at you, wide eyed and curious.

“…really?” He asked after a moment. You nodded your head, very serious.

“Have you ever… kissed another boy?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh yeah, plenty- a few girls here and there too…” you smiled, leaning in closer to Sebastian.

It seemed impossible to shock Sebastian any further yet here you were.

“And… fooling around… that too?”

“Occasionally… once or twice.”

Again there was silence, Sebastian staring at you intently.

“Could you…” Sebastian paused, thinking of the best way to go about this increasingly awkward conversation. “… teach me?”

It was your turn to be shocked now, staring at him for a moment.

“Teach you?”

“To like… you know- fool around…” said Sebastian, averting his gaze to the floor, that adorable pink flush returning.

You smiled at him, finding his clumsiness adorable.

“Sure.”

Tentatively, as if afraid of scaring away a small creature, you reach your hand over to Sebastian, placing your palm over his and guiding his hand to your waist.

“Like this okay?” You hum, looking up at Sebastian who swallowed heavily and nodded his head.

“I’m gonna- lean down here…” you explain with a grunt, shifting yourself backwards so that you were almost laying on the ground with your elbow propped up to support your weight, Sebastian’s hand still on your waist.

“Now I want you to put one leg over me… kinda like a broom.” You explained, watching with a smile as Sebastian clumsily followed your orders, straddling your legs.

“Good.” You praised, moving Sebastian’s other hand to cage in your body against the floor, your own tangling itself into his hair.

Sebastian’s mouth was slightly agape, his pupils blown wide and his eyes alight with excitement.

“This alright?” You asked, looking up at him to make sure he was still doing good.

“Very.” He breathed. “Could we uh…” he trailed off.

“Get to the kissing part?” You asked with a smirk.

“Yes.” Said Sebastian. “That… Please.”

Using your hand buried in his hair you guided Sebastian towards you, his head dipping to meet your lips in an inexperienced kiss.

It was clumsy and awkward, a mess of teeth clashing against each other and rushed apologies from Sebastian’s mouth.

Your chest was alight and if you hadn’t known any better you’d expected fire works to burst straight from your torso like one of Garreth’s wild potions.

“(y/n)…” breathed Sebastian into the kiss, his hand digging into the fabric on your waist. You pulled him closer deepening the kiss as you opened your mouth.

Pulling away from the embrace you look up breathlessly at Sebastian, his lips plump and swollen from all the kissing.

“Can I take your cloak off?” You ask quietly, your voice echoing in the undercroft. “It’d make this whole thing a lot easier.” And before you could even reach a hand up to unbuckle the clasp of Sebastian’s cloak he’d beaten you to the chase, practically ripping the fabric off his shoulders as he tossed it behind the two of you.

You looked at him in shocked silence, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Eager are we?” You asked.

“Hush.” Said Sebastian, taking the lead as he bent down, his free hand not on your waist going to your chest, wrapping around your torso and pulling you in closer still.

Sebastian enveloped you in a kiss once more. Your mouth opened into his, turning messy as you searched for Sebastian’s tongue, the undercroft filling with the noises of breathless moans.

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled you from the moment, Sebastian’s head whipping around to meet the intruders.

“Ominis!” He smiled forcefully, dropping his hands causing you to fall and smack your head against the old tiled floor with a ‘thump!’.

You groaned in pain, Sebastian reaching out his hands to help you before stopping himself, looking back at Ominis.

“Sebastian.” Ominis growled. “Are you seriously snogging a girl in the undercroft? I thought this was our place!”

“No! I mean yes! I mean-“ floundered Sebastian, helping you sit up from the floor and whispering apologies into your ear.

“I just… I really like this guy Ominis.” Sebastian mumbled, looking at the floor embarrassedly, not realizing his words till they’d already slipped out.

“Guy?” Asked Ominis, his voice suddenly soft.

“(y/n). I’m with (y/n).” Admitted Sebastian, his face that adoring shade of pink once more.

Ominis was silent for a long moment processing this new information.

“Okay… it’s- it’s okay Sebastian just… just go make out somewhere else yeah?” Ominis said, his voice suddenly soft and as soon as the tender moment happened it disappeared, the blonde boys voice snarky once more. “And if I ever catch you snogging in here again I’ll have your head, got it?”

“Very.” Said Sebastian with a small smirk, relieved at his friends response. He wrapped his hand around yours, hastily grabbing his discarded cloak and standing up. “Now I’m gonna…”

“Please do get your sorry excuse out of here.” Scoffed Ominis. “I’ll have to disinfect everything, who knows what you two’ve been getting up to.”

Jojo try not to rush another fics ending challenge (impossible)

#fanfic #fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy sebastian #literature #drabbles #drabble #one shot #oneshot #ominis gaunt #x male reader #male reader

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welkinsky · 1 year

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Fanfic idea with Levi about him falling for a girl who’s more bubbly than him. She’s been into him since she met him but never thought she had a chance with him.

Levi X Reader | Bubbly Reader

You had a naturally bubbly personality and always looked at the good side of things. Your ideals were to do everything always with love or not do it at all. So even if the outcome were bad you'd always consider it to be good because the intentions and efforts behind them were all that mattered.

When you two first met, you were warned that Levi was one cold man. So you decide to approach him accordingly but after meeting him you could see that this was just the way he was on the outside, his intentions were always good. Yes sometimes he might come off as cold and rude but ultimately it had a greater reason behind it.

Although you two had completely different ways of handling people you both understood each other and made the decisions with mutual understanding when it came to your teams.

Levi has never been the one to pay any attention to any love interest shown by anyone. After working with him for this long, it was clear to you. So you never really thought you'll ever get with him. But that doesn't mean you did not find yourself thinking about him constantly.

Every little thing he did was just so pure and out of care for his team even if it meant that he had to punish them every now and then. You also hated how he always distanced himself from everyone. You knew his past, Hange told you. After that you wanted to show him that the world is not that bad and now he is safe, he can let his guard down.

But the more you tried the more he resisted and pushed you away. But you were determined. Which he hated but you were not ready to give up. You knew nothing will come out of this for you but you selflessly wanted to help him even if it meant that he'll never end up with you.

His POV:

You scared the shit out of him. When he met you his first thought was, "Oh great another rainbow" like an insult. But slowly he started understanding that you were not that different from him. You stood up for your morals more than he ever dared to.

It was always an interesting meeting when you were there. You knew how to shut people up with your very gentle and logical answers and no one dared to cross you because it always meant being ultimately insulted intellectually. They knew you were not someone who would be swayed easily.

But what scared him was that he knew you could see right through his cold persona. He knew it because of the silent smiles you passed as Levi would order his team around because they have been lacking recently.

He hated how you just don't know when to give up! He never asked for the random favors you did for him. He never asked you to stop by and ask how his day was going. He never asked for those flowers when he came back from the successful survey mission.

He knew he was soft with you. He just wanted to let you know that these things were not why he was soft for you, it was because he saw why you were doing all these things for him.

But when you two came together it was a completely different scenario:

Levi, who everyone doubted if he was physically capable of smiling, cracks jokes around you. It took him time but slowly he started saying his jokes out loud when only you were there. He surprisingly had a good sense of humor, he just chose to say those jokes inside his head only.

As you two were getting closer he'd pay more attention to the things that you found interesting. Like you loved flowers but not the for the sake of them but rather loved to know the meaning behind them. So usually you'll get Rosses or Buckwheat and you secretly made a jar where you'd put them once they dried. He found that jar later and blushed really hard and then put it back where he found it.

He then decided to give you flowers of different colors to make sure that your jar was colorful and made you even happier.

Seeing you made him stand up for his morals as well. He never really was the one to pay much attention to them until and unless it affected him and his team but now he understood that he cannot really ignore everyone as well.

He is always so soft to you with the way he talks and treats you. Remember how you treated him before? Yea multiply it by 10 and that is how much of a queen treatment you get.

He also developed a habit of always making sure that he has some sort of physical contact with you to make sure that you were there. Once he wakes up from sleep his hand automatically searches for you on his side and gets a little worried when he cannot find you there. And don't get me started on the disappointment when he realises that you two were not sleeping together.

______________________________

Thanks For Reading and for the ask! I'm super grateful for all the support!

Here is AOT Masterlist

If you liked it you can check out the masterlist too!

A-Z Headcanon

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levmada · 2 years

Text

male-coded reader. just wanted to write slow sunday morning fucking, yk?

just the day after an expedition ends. early morning. the first hints of sunshine penetrating the curtains. the blankets on top of you are heavy and warm, and it’s serene for the first time in days. the only sound is the soft smacks of your lips in the quiet bedroom.

you ended up crawling on top, because Levi is both sleep-deprived and exhausted at the same time, sore down to his bones, thankful you’re both still here. you kiss slowly, but with an excruciating type of passion. like you both need to taste, to feel that you’re still there long enough to make up for the past two weeks.

every time you pause for breath, he of course isn’t winded; he slides his palm over your nape and into your hair. closer and closer he needs you, needs the moment to never end.

it doesn’t matter when exactly you slotted your knees under his thighs. you grind against each other almost as an afterthought at first, slow and easy sweeps of your hips, not eager but still wanting, now that you have the privilege of slowing down just to feel. every time your hips kiss, he huffs a little louder, taking in your lips deeper until you ache, heads tilted and twitching, breathing heavy. you feel as he hardens, then throbs.

you could undress, and lead this somewhere else, but neither of you are keen on letting go. he raises his hips to meet yours when the rhythm really begins to feel right. slow and devastating, so it feels like he’s scraping a desperate heat every time you roll down. for a while your thrusts shorten into little rolls, and his soft sighs turns into a gravelly moan. so soft, buried in his chest. his lips part, and you take advantage of this and lick into his hot mouth with a sighing moan of your own.

as your tongues scrape, then push together, you smooth out the motions of your hips, gravitating towards each other deeply again, steadily, but with a twinge of urgency this time. he raises his leg, and digs his ankle into your lower back. when you groan, it’s soft and deep, makes heat erupt in his lower half.

he’s can't swallow his shy moans, and, searching for an even closer sense of intimacy, he tugs the blanket from your back, up and over your heads. the air immediately warms, heats, and turns heavy. his eyes are closed, gliding your silky lips with his in a sloppy, slow fashion, lost in infinity, in the way you not only make him feel safe, but make him feel good.

he sighs high, his voice just mingling to sound like a whine. you can’t get any closer; you’re pasted together from your mouths to your hips, so he holds you instead, one arm crowding your shoulders and the other gnarled in the shirt on your lower back. you cradle the back of his head, and cage him in with the other, sinking your knuckles into the pillow above his head.

Levi hums with urgency, his nostrils flaring to breathe in the air spicy with sweat and sex and hot like a sauna. neither of you pull away to ask, only his other leg comes up behind your back and crossing at the ankles. you groan together. this deepens the angle, gives you entire access between his thighs.

you begin to hurry just slightly, as this is the best it’s ever felt, beating hot waves through your blood. as your bodies turn rigid, and he pants and grabs at you, you lose a bit more of control you possessed before.

along this aimless, warm sea of hips and heat, grinding and gasps, the rise is slow and steady, like a thermometer climbing up to a boiling point. he feels the exact moment he begins to teeter, and puts less and less effort to kiss. you kiss at his swollen bottom lip instead.

your hips grind in quick, heavy rolls. “Are you close?”

for some reason, that’s what does it for him. a fragile gasp, a faint ah as he jolts and begins to writhe. his thighs squeeze your middle, his toes curl, and he can no longer kiss, but pant into your open mouth, clinging to you tighter than ever. under the covers you barely make out the angles and shapes that make up the soft expression of total bliss on his face. his eyes are screwed shut, lips parted for little whines to fall out as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple. he comes hard.

watching him, and hearing his little sounds that he normally tries so hard not to make gets you close. now your thrusting has shortened to rutting, causing the mattress to whine. you chase it wildly.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he whispers, softly panting, barely heard over the sounds you’re making and the creaky bedsprings. The backs of his ankles dig into your back. “Give it to me.”

You succumb, and shatter. “Shit,” you gasp.

He softly grunts as you ride that perfect wave through your climax, chanting moans. It’s rough, and messy, hot and so intimate it hurts his heart.

Your foreheads press in the aftermath that makes him feel like he’s floating, a tender type of warmth settling in his veins. You’re completely coated in sweat, and he feels where it’s drying in his own pants, but he doesn’t let go, not for a long time.

#levi ackerman x y/n smut #aot smut #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman thirst #levi x you #levi x reader #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #levi x mc #levi x gender neutral reader #levi x male reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fic #levi.thirsts

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tieflingtareon · 7 months

Text

My love, are you the devil? (Oh, call me a devil)

Chapter 30 | Words: 7.3k

Summary: Astarion found himself often surprised by his heroic companion. He had one goal. To become the favoured companion of the group, to earn the Tieflings loyalty, to make Tar'eons strength his own. Yet Tar'eon isn't like the usual target of his manipulations. Despite his naivety, he does not seem gullible. There is something very wrong with their 'leader' to begin with. Astarion isn't sure if he wants to control it or eradicate the threat it posed. But can he really do either when Tar'eon himself seems so...unwaveringly kind?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50668558/chapters/127995079

“What the Hells was that?” Astarion grabbed Tar’eons sleeve as the tiefling continued to walk down the hall, seemingly in a trance. “Stop and talk to me, dammit!” He hissed.

Tar’eon turned to him and opened his lips, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say.

“How long were you there…? How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Astarion scowled. “He had quite the coronation.” His skin still felt tight from the thunder wave the man had downed him with. He hadn’t been expecting it — he felt like a fool, being caught off guard so easily, and that burned more than any wound.

“How much did you hear, Astar?” Tar’eon begged for him to speak plainly and Astarion frowned.

“…You were taking too long. I came up the stairs around the same time he was being ordained. Hells, you even gave your blessing. I didn’t hear much before he was manhandling you.” Astarion gritted his teeth. “If you were so desperate for another lover you could have asked, darling, no need for secrets.” He drawled.

“It’s not like that.” Tar’eon sighed, rubbing between his brows. His headaches were only getting worse as time went on. He hated this. He needed to kill Orin and get this Urge sorted out. “It’s— I’ll explain everything tonight, okay?”

“You always say that! You always say you’ll explain later, and then it’s like pulling teeth from a feral animal, the way you refuse to tell me everything. I tell you almost everything, I let you know it all, and it’s like you don’t care to give me the same courtesy. We’re in this together, Tar’eon. Or should I call you ‘Tir’yal’?”

“Please don’t. You…you’re pronouncing it wrong anyway.” Tar’eon grimaced.

“Apologises, but it’s not every day that you learn your lover has another name they never bothered to tell you about. I haven’t exactly had time to practice it.” He glowered, crossing his arms.

“It’s — Look, that name is my infernal name. I was given it by my- my father, I think.” Had Bhaal ever bothered to name him? Or had he been raised outside of the temple until a certain age? Who took care of him when Father couldn’t? His butler? He couldn't remember anything of his childhood outside that young man, no older than twenty, with white and black hair, burns streaking across his face, black ink consuming half his features. The face the Emperor had stolen to gain his trust.

“Not all tiefling’s have infernal names — depending on where you’re from, a lot of parents will stick with more humanoid names for their children so they fit into society better. 'Tar’eon' is how I get by easier without people turning their noses up at the introduction of a foulblood.” He explained. “If you have both an infernal and a common name, it’s typical for only fellow tieflings or fiends to use it, and only those you’re close with for that matter.”

“From what I’ve seen of him, Lord Gortash doesn't have an ounce of devil blood in him, so why can he call you that, hm?” Astarion quirked a brow, looking unimpressed.

“Because…I don’t know. He knows the language, maybe, and my past self…let him call me that.”

“Yes, you were close in the past. I figured as much.” Astarion sneered.

“Don’t. Don’t judge me for things I can’t remember. For the person I don’t know.” Tar’eon narrowed his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? Karlach hates Enver for all the right fucking reasons and I’m the one stuck here, bargaining with him to benefit this team, knowing how upset she’ll be with me."

"You even call him Enver, Gods-"

"We need his Steel Watch with us, not against us. Not if we want to go through the city freely and find Orin. We can't get on his bad side."

“Orin this, Orin that — you’re so bloody obsessed with her! Why? Because she calls you her kin?”

“Because she’s the reason I remember none of it!” He snapped, hands fisted at his sides. “She’s the reason I’m here, she’s the reason I’m floundering through life, and she mocks me every step of the way! I have never felt more justified in killing someone before for the sake of myself, and I cannot wait to sink my knife into her back like she did to me.”

Astarion stared him, expression blank.

“…I understand. Betrayal - it twists something ugly inside you and it can only be sated by revenge. I won’t deny you the pleasure of your kill. But you’re keeping secrets from me, and I know it. I only hope you come clean sooner rather than later.” Astarion walked past him and Tar’eon deflated with a sigh.

“I promise you; everything. All of it. I will tell you all of it tonight.”

“I hope you keep that promise, for both of our sake's. I don't see the point in sharing myself with someone who shares nothing back.”

Tar’eon pursed his lips. Some things were best left unsaid…but he meant it. He would tell Astarion everything about where he came from tonight. He’d tell all of them.

****

Mizora's words rang in his ears as he made his way up the stairs to the office above. He may lack a stone, but he was willing to take his chances. This wasn't his life on the line - it was Wyll's fathers. He needed to remain one step ahead of the devil.

Casting invisibility on himself and leaving his party behind so suddenly would probably only anger them more, but he did not have the energy to fight them after Mizora's promise of a visit. He wanted to make this conversation quick and return as soon as possible.

He stood outside the office, heart in his throat as he hesitantly opened the door, surprised to find it without a lock, the wood giving the faintest creak. Stepping inside, if felt like stepping into a different life. Something that didn’t quite fit his skin anymore, but still it felt strangely like the nostalgia that came with a childhood home. It wasn't the room itself that was familiar, but the air. He looked around curiously and his eyes widened when he saw Enver.

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Perhaps an array of guards in a dingy office that lacked much natural light, but there was nothing. The room was far more spacious compared to the memory of before, brighter, but still as messy from what he saw on the table, piled in books and maps and empty ink pots, discarded broken quills scattered across the wood. Tar'eon walked further into the spacious area, looking around for Enver, only to find him tucked away at a desk in the corner of a room, partially hidden by a large bookshelf. The smaller space felt a lot more like home than the open area of grandeur.

Enver himself…wasn’t awake. He was sleeping, back to him. He was sitting in his office chair, a leather bound chair held together with cherry red wood, his head propped up against the knuckles of his fist, eyes closed. His other hand laid on the desk, a quill between his unarmoured fingers. He hadn’t considered it before, but the design was likely purposeful so he could still write comfortably. Being a Lord, and now an Archduke, he probably wrote a lot. There was a stack of papers beside him as evidence.

Slowly, he approached, taking in the small space caved out in the large office. It smelt like dust and parchment, and the air felt like static energy about to zap him. Tar’eon wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t been hyper vigilant to magical barriers. Enver had warded himself against being surprised if seemed. A good choice, considering who he was. When he said he had many enemies, he wasn’t lying.

Tar’eon pushed past the barrier, waiting for the man to react, to wake, but he did not rouse. Slowly, he came to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking gently. He heard a click, and he was slammed into the desk before he could even react, caught off guard by the others quick reflexes. There was a clatter, a ghostly mage hand stealing his blade before he could even think to reach for it, the edge of the mahogany desk pressing uncomfortably into his back, his legs barely holding him up at the awkward angle. He grunted.

He felt something sharp against his throat and held his breath, seconds ticking by as Enver’s dark eyes pinned him down just as efficiently as his forearm against his chest. The clatter he heard had been his cane. He was gripping the golden handle, a dagger hidden within reach at all times. It wasn’t just for decoration or an old injury - it was a weapon. The perfect weapon for anyone attempting to sneak up on him. He should have been scared - but something about this scene felt strangely familiar, like deja vu.

“I tire of your games, Orin. Or are you one of her shifters?” Enver’s voice was cold, calculated, and it was far different from the warmth he had spoken to him with earlier.

“It’s me — I’m not one of her goons, I promise.”

“If it’s actually you, then I apologise.” Enver’s knee dug into his hip, grinding against bone as he pressed his elbow to his throat so he could pull up his sleeve. Tar’eon grunted, fighting against his hold, but the mage hand had a grip on his hair, keeping him in place.

A hot, sharp pain burned through his forearm as the blade sliced through flesh — it wasn’t a surface cut either. He felt it dig into muscle, and he clenched his teeth with a long, drawn out growl. Enver watched him closely for a long moment, blood spilling onto his desk alongside the ink pot Tar'eon knocked over, the cool ink staining his hair, neck and ear.

Then, he released him as quickly as he had pinned him, the mage hand disappearing. He wiped the dagger against his pant leg is a movement that reminded him of Astarion, slipping the blade back into the length of his cane, clicking it into place.

“You have no idea how many times her goons have used your likeness, Tir’yal. Thankfully, most of them cannot keep your form without much needed concentration, but I can break it to reveal beneath the mask. It can be a...bloody process, I'm afraid. So you’re either you, or Orin. Orin doesn’t react to pain the same way that you do though. She enjoys it too much — and put on the waterworks.” Enver sat back with a grunt, tired eyes on the tiefling who placed a hand over his wound to stifle the blood. "You've never been much of the tearful type when it comes to pain."

“What a friendly welcome.” Tar’eon bit out.

"Please, this is hardly the first time I've stabbed you. Wouldn't be the first time you've stabbed me either, if you're feeling daring."

"Why...did I stab you before?" Tar'eon frowned and Enver chuckled, pulling out his desk drawer and reaching into it, tossing a roll of bandages to him. Tar'eon barely caught it, grimacing at the blood he got on the white bandages.

"Plenty of reasons. You never tried to kill me though. I dare say you were the only person who didn't want to. We had a mutual respect for each others strengths."

"I'm rethinking not killing you." Tar'eon huffed and sat on the edge of the desk, wrapping his bloodied arm up with a shaky hand. It fucking hurt. Enver hadn't given him any mercy in his 'test', but Tar'eon refused to give him grief over it. "You need to work on your barriers. If I could get past it without you waking, I'm sure Orin could too."

"She can't." Enver assured.

"You didn't wake when I passed through it. Obviously, your warding needs improvement." He tightened the bandage and grimaced, tucking it into itself. He wiped his bloody hand off on his pants.

"You're the only one who can pass through." Enver looked at him like he was stupid. "I've used these wards for quite some time. My office is where I spend most days and nights. Only people with no 'ill intent' can pass through undetected. I've never had anyone but you pass that requirement. Though, it did take half a year before it stopped detecting you." He smirked.

"I..." Tar'eon frowned. He wasn't sure how to feel about that. "We...really were close, weren't we?"

Enver actually laughed.

"The closest." Enver smirked. "I knew your secrets, and you knew mine. Of course, we couldn't speak of certain things because it would be a betrayal to Bane or your Father, Bhaal, such as the temples location, but...when it came us," He gestured to himself and then Tar'eon. "We were well read books to each other."

Suddenly, his smile fell, expression impassive as he pursed his lips.

"Though, I notice you're lacking carnage, blood, and a stone. I have faith in your brutality, but not even Orin is that swift. It hasn't even been an hour from my guess." Enver did not seem pleased.

"This isn't about the stone. I..." He gritted his teeth. "I need a favour. Or, I'm making an offer. A negotiation. For the future of our alliance."

Enver sat further back in his chair, watching Tar'eon. Examining the tightness in his muscles, the stiff way he sat on the desk. He was anxious. Interesting. He slowly clinked each finger against the arm of his chair, sharp metallic nails a satisfying sound against pristine wood.

"After your fanged friend attacked me in my own home? After you barged into my office and disturbed my rest? Staining my new desk while you were at it." Tar'eon could feel how thin the man's patience was becoming. "You certainly have guts...I would think you stupid if I didn't know you were the opposite. I will allow this impertinence. But only once."

"You've been fairly honest with me, so I will be honest with you." He forced himself to meet his eyes, refusing to look away as he spoke. "I don't fear your Steel Watch. If I wanted to, I could kill Orin, and then you, and it would be no sweat off my back. I have a wizard prodigy, a githyanki warrior, a solider who served in the Hells for ten years, a rogue who can get anywhere and pick his way through any lock, a warlock apt in the blade, two clerics who don't mind a little blood, a high Harper, a fierce druid, and the child of a Goddess. I do not fear you. My agreement with you if because you're useful...and because it seems my past self cared for you quite a lot."

Enver remained quiet, but his eyes were burning with something. It wasn't anger though.

"Those are just the people who travel with me. I have even more allies all over this city. I could kill anyone who got in my way. But I don't want to kill you. That is the honest truth."

"I'm hurt, you said I'd make a pretty corpse once. That I'd be your final grand murder before the world turned to ash." Enver drawled. "I know you have no intention to kill me, not yet anyway, or you wouldn't have gotten past my wards. Get to the point before I decide to make mince meat of your camp."

"...I could killed anyone. Except Mizora." He admitted. "Her fate is linked to my companions. He was only seventeen when he made the deal, but he did it for the sake of his home. The very home you are now sworn to protect. He's a good man. Wyll Ravenguard."

Enver's eyes lit up, sitting up straighter.

"Oh. The son of Ulder Ravenguard. I see. You're making a deal on his behalf."

"I am." Tar'eon sighed. "I managed to convince Mizora to let Wyll free of his pact in six months time. She knows how much he loves his father, estranged or not. That man respects him so much, even when he sent him away from the home he protected while he was gone." He shook his head. "He was a kid, and his father made him out to be a monster, and then told him to leave the only home he'd ever known. The home he become a monster to save. I might not like him, but Wyll loves him."

Tar'eon couldn't understand how Wyll didn't resent him, but the man told him resentment was something he never wanted to hold onto as a person. It was a weight, and Wyll was not looking to be tied down to it. He grew up with Ulder, and he assured Tar'eon that being unable to tell him about the pact only made it seem like he was inviting the devil into his home. Something he couldn't allow as a Duke.

He chose being a Duke over being a father in Tar'eons eyes, but his opinion didn't matter. Wyll's did.

"I know you intend to get rid of him. He's a threat to your status. But by Gods, if you harm him, I will destroy your Watchers until it is metal scraps beneath my feet. I will turn the people against you. I will tell them everything, show them everything. Even if it means damning myself with you."

"You want me to keep a threat to my ruling around? Our ruling?" Enver barked a laugh. "You never did understand the intricacies of politics, my dearest."

"I won't ask you to free him of the tadpole's command. I know you'd never agree to that. All I ask is that you keep him in your fortress, unharmed, and far away from Mizora's hands or any prison you might think about letting him rot in."

"And what am I to get out of this deal?" Enver challenged, gesturing with one hand for Tar'eon to speak, to offer up something that would make any of it worthwhile.

"That's where we negotiate. Name your price for Ulder Ravenguard's life."

"Well, you've already agreed to get Orin's stone for me, so I'm not sure there's anything else I could want from you." Tar'eon was certain this man had been raised by devils, the way he spoke. Every word felt deliberate, yet suave, twisting it around on the desperate soul to get what they wanted.

"No enemies you want me to kill?"

"Unless you plan on going to the Hells yourself." Enver chuckled.

"I can see about it." Tar'eon offered. "We might have a couple common enemies, you and I. Name your devil, and I'll have them killed." Enver actually looked like he might be considering it, golden talons scratching along his jaw.

"...An old friend of mine. Nothing as formidable as Zariel or Mephistopheles, and not your lovely devil mistress, Mizora. His name is Raphael. If you manage to kill him, I'll consider keeping Ulder Ravenguard alive."

"You will. If I kill Raphael for you, you will keep him alive. No conditions. I kill him and he lives." Enver tutted and leaned back in his chair, watching Tar'eon closely. He beckoned him closer with two fingers, and Tar'eon hesitated before standing, stepping closer, the toe of his boot nudging Enver's. Enver reached up and grasped his either side of his jaw with one hand, tugging him down to meet his dark gaze.

"You know, I've missed you. It's almost fun, knowing you don't remember our time as partners in crime. I'd like nothing more than to show you how well he worked together." Tar'eon swallowed and Enver smirked. "Kill Raphael, and return to me with his horns in tow. I'd like to make them into paperweights. And don't forget Orin's stone, either. Once you have both of those...you will join me for dinner." Tar'eon pursed his lips.

"If you're asking me to spend the night with you, the answer is no. I have a lover. I'm not willing to ruin what I have with Astarion for a one night stand. Raphael's horns and Orin's stone, and that's it."

"And dinner." Enver smiled. "That's non-negotiable if you want Duke Ravenguard to get my utmost hospitality and sanctuary."

Tar'eon gritted his teeth, his heart skipping a beat as the hand on his jaw lowered to throat, holding it just as gently as he had in the memory. Like he was cradling his life in his hand, and enjoying it thoroughly.

"And maybe...you can play for me again." Tar'eon sucked in a sharp breath, berating his body for reacting to those words. He knew instinctive that playing for Enver was more than just music to them both.

"...Fine. Dinner, and maybe a song. Happy?"

"Very. You're quite good at this - negotiations. In future though, I think I'll take the lead." Enver smirked and released his throat. Tar'eon stood straighter, thankful for the mans human hearing compared to Astarion's vampiric hearing, or else his excitement would be far too noticeable for his liking. That cleared up one thing at least. Their previous relationship had definitely been sexual, if nothing else. His body remembered its own cues far too well. He couldn't tell if there had been any real love between them; perhaps it simply wasn't possible back then, living the lives they did. The only love they could truly have was for their Gods.

"Now go. I'm a busy man. If you return empty-handed again, consider our alliance mute." He warned and Tar'eon nodded sharply, making to leave the room as swiftly as possible, barely past the table when Enver spoke again, eyes focused on the papers in front of him, quill in hand. "Oh, and Tir'yal? If you happen upon a warlock by the name of Nubaldin in your journey...Give him a good kick for me, would you? Tell him it was under the orders of Archduke Enver Gortash."

Tar'eon raised a brow before nodding silently, making his way out of the room. When he joined his party back at the bridge to the Lower City, Astarion was gone. Jaheria looked rather unimpressed by his return, as well as Shadowheart.

"I can't believe you left like that without telling us. Where on Toril did you go?"

"I was securing Duke Ravenguard's safety. From the way Mizora spoke, I wasn't chancing wasting any time with a fight if the lot of us went back inside. It was easier to make myself invisible and try my hand alone."

"You could have gotten yourself killed." Jaheria scowled. "Do not act so rashly next time. If we are to work together, I expect some communication at the very least. A toddler could manage that."

"I'm sorry. Where's Astarion?"

"He left. Threw a fit at your disappearance and said he was going back to camp for the day." Shadowheart didn't seem to disagree with the vampires actions. She looked rather annoyed by his vanishing act too. "You managed to secure the Dukes safety, how?"

"I struck another bargain. I knew he wouldn't hand him over to us - but I managed to make him agree to leave the man unharmed in the Fortress. Away from Mizora, or any jail cell."

"And what exactly did you offer that slimeball of a politic?" Jaheria quirked a brow.

"...I told him I'd kill Raphael."

"You what?" Shadowheart's eyes widened. "You expect us to kill Raphael? He'd hardly allow it."

"The last we saw of him, he's in the brothel. Alone. It wouldn't be a hard feat if we put our muscle into it, I'm sure. He's not untouchable."

"We cannot expect to defeat a devil without leverage." Jaheria shook her head. "We must find his weakness before we decide to strike."

"She's right. If Gortash wanted him dead, and it was as easy as taking his head, he would have sent his Steel Watch to do so the moment Raphael came into the city." Shadowheart warned. Tar'eon frowned but considered her words.

"Fine...He'll keep his end of the bargain as long as I deliver the stone and Raphael's head in time. We won't strike today. Let's explore the city first, and hope we stumble upon something helpful. A weakness."

"You're out of your mind..." Shadowheart shook her head. "I'm not happy about your deal with Gortash. Not after everything he did to Karlach. But I see the benefits of it; I'll be hunted enough as it is by any Sharrans in the city. We don't need the Steel Watch drawing attention to us too."

"Sometimes you must walk amongst the filth in order to rise above it. I won't say I haven't played the long game before to my advantage. It is sometimes necessary to avoid battle until battle must be done." Jaheria crossed her arms. "Let us go. There is still plenty of daylight to guide us. We shall see to Mizora and her tricks this evening."

Tar'eon nodded sharply.

"Thank you...both of you. I know I've put you both in a position you're not comfortable with. I really am trying to do what's best for us though. We won't have to skulk around the city now; we can walk freely, and hopefully, find this Minsc you speak of and the victims."

"You are our leader. You've helped me through perilous fights and being by your side has given me the chance to live my own life. If it weren't for you, I might still be stuck in that pod, without the woman I've come to care deeply for. You're always trying to do the right thing. I trust you, even if I may not like some of the decisions you make." Shadowheart gave a small smile. "Come on. Jaheria is right. We've spent enough time chatting. We have to-be-victims to find. Preferably before they're dead."

"Agreed. Let's go." Tar'eon turned to his left, almost expecting Astarion to be there, but he knew he wouldn't be. He pursed his lips. He only hoped Astarion would forgive him once he explained everything properly. There was more pressing matters at hand right now.

He would find Bhaal's cultists, his temple, and he would spill carnage in the form of his dearest blood kin.

****

It was already dark when they made it back. They had managed to find a few victims - some deceased and some alive - but no direction to Orin just yet.

"Wyll!" Tar'eon called out as he jogged up to the warlock who was chatting with Gale, Yenna beside the wizard and petting her cat Grub as she listened intently to their conversation.

"Tar'eon?" Wyll looked up in surprise and smiled. "Your lot are back rather late; dinner will need to be heated, but nothing a little magic can't manage."

"Mizora, she's-" Before he could explain, a ring of fire fell before them, Gale snatching Yenna up quickly and shielding her behind him, Yenna's head peeking her head out from behind, Grub shivering in her arms and mewling in terror. Like he knew something was deeply wrong with the creature before him.

"What in the Hells?!" Gale glared at the woman as she spoke an incantation, more fiends coming to appearing from the Hells, dressed in similar attire. Gale sidestepped a ring of fire and shooed Yenna off towards Jaheria's tent, the Harper ushering her inside as she drew her blades, waiting for a fight.

"You always have to arrive in style, don't you, Mizora?" Astarion drawled, arms crossed over his chest, Karlach beside him, burning red hot at the sight of the devils, fingers gripping tighter around her greataxe. Shadowheart's hands glowed with the faintest light, a radiant beam of magic ready to be dispelled at any given moment, Aylin and Isobel at her back. Even Halsin looked on edge, Scratch and the Owlbear cub behind his large frame, Lae'zel watching idly from beside him.

"Meet my sisters," Mizora grinned. "Be my testament, sisters!" Tar'eons stomach churned as she spoke infernal and they repeated her words in agreement. To think the Sisters of Justice would join them this evening - Mizora was hear to bargain with Wyll once more, and he knew it.

"Holy hells..." Wyll breathed.

"Please, introduce me to your sisters." Tar'eon narrowed his eyes.

"Feena, Cirrus." Mizora gestured to each sister. "Arbiters for the Hells, exemplars of justice."

"Enough games, Mizora- ugh!" Wyll held his head as Tar'eons tadpole squirmed, the images of his father in the coronation and Mizora's words to him crashing into his own mind. "Shit. Where did Gortash send my father? How do I save him?" Tar'eon pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache had grown tenfold after the connection. Enough for Mizora to speak before him.

"Sisters." Mizora gestured the sisters chanted, allowing Mizora to present the contract before them all. "Your contract, Wyll. Signed in blood, forged in fire, bound in bone - but...not unbreakable."

"Then break it already." Tar'eon glared. "Wyll doesn't need to wait six months to regain his freedom when you already swore it."

"He'll want to hear this offer though." Mizora smirked. "I'm proposing a life for a life. No contract is ended without sacrifice. The cost must be paid." Wyll sneered at the devil at the sisters flames only grew brighter, ready to hear his answer to the contract and set it in stone. Tar'eon couldn't let this happen.

"Wyll Ravenguard. A choice is before you." It was hardly a choice, and she knew it. "Option one, I show you a way to your father. I guarantee him no harm except that from you and your allies. And you pledge your soul to me and the archdevil Zariel in a pact eternal."

"Don't listen to her, Wyll." Karlach interjected. "There's no use reasoning with devils."

"Option two," Mizora glared at the barbarian. "I break your pact, and you are freed from your duty. Your father dies by his enemy's hand, and Baldur's Gate loses its greatest champion." She grinned at Wyll, knowing she had made the choice near impossible for him. "Name your sacrifice."

"Mizora, you arsehole." Wyll looked angrier than Tar'eon had ever seen him before.

"Choose."

Gale stepped forward, cautiously looking upon the warlock who struggled to make a choice. How could he? To damn his father for his own sake? To damn himself to being a dog on a leash for the rest of his days? To serve the woman who made Karlach's life hell? It was impossible. He either forfeited the life of the father he loved or forfeited his own. By Gods, he did not want to live a life of torment under Mizora's boot any longer, but what choice did he have? It was his father, the man he respected above all else.

"Wyll..." Wyll looked at Gale, the wizard looking almost as lost as he felt. He shook his head softly at Wyll. "Don't do it. Don't give up your freedom for a man who abandoned you when you needed him most. I know you love your father, but his time has passed. The future - the city - it will be passed on to you. I cannot see anyone else doing a finer a job as you would in his stead. Let the past go, and look to the future."

He offered his hand to Wyll, who's eyes burned with the desire to cry. He hadn't felt so despicable since the night he was banished from the only home he ever knew. He wanted to live, dammit. But could he live with himself if he left his father to rot under Gortash's hand?

"I..."

"Break the pact, Wyll." Tar'eon spoke up and Wyll looked at him in surprise. Tar'eons eyes burned, begging the other man to trust him. "Break it. You deserve your freedom."

Wyll looked between the two men, to the companions around him, and he knew his answer before he spoke it. It felt like a knife ripping through him, stomach to sternum, the weight of his decision unbearably heavy as he took Gale's hand and squeezed hard.

"You damned wretch. Father..." He prayed that he would forgive him. In the end, he was the monster who would end his reign over the city, just like he'd always feared. But he would make things right. He would stand in his place and lead the city to glory one day, and make it up to the man, even if he never forgave him.

"Do it. Break the pact."

"Fiat ita." The sisters chanted the same, and in a flash, the contract was burned away to nothing, the Sisters of Justice leaving the mortal plane. "Didn't think you had it in you. Seem's my boy's all grown up. And don't go fussing about your father. You made your choice, you knew the terms...You know what? I think I'll stick around. Not for the greater good, you understand. Just for the entertainment."

She vanished into flames but Tar'eon knew she would linger somewhere nearby. His stomach was hot with anger, but there was relief too. Wyll bowed his head in shame, eyes closed as Gale drew him into his shoulder. The warlock grasped at him like a lifeline. He was free. But at the cost of his father's life. The camp was quiet, a shared mourning between them all for Wyll's sake, even as some companions moved away to give him some privacy.

Tar'eon rested a hand on his shoulder and Gale looked at him with sad eyes, Wyll pulling away with a bitter twist of his lips.

"I spent seven years choked by Mizora's leash. I spent seven years hoping to break free. I never knew freedom could taste so bittersweet."

"You are your own man now, Wyll. It's better this way." Gale insisted, squeezing his shoulder. Wyll sighed.

"I have to believe that. I'm not the Hells' puppet in life, nor its warrior in death. The Blade will be guiding his own hand." He made to stand taller, but his shoulders were quick to fall again. "But freedom will be paid in my father's blood. Tomorrow, I celebrate my gain. Today...I mourn my loss." There's a moment of silence between them all, Gale's hand travelling up Wyll's back and gently squeeze the nape of his neck, a reassurance that he was not alone.

"The Ravenguard name now lives solely with me. I will make it count for something."

"You will make a great Duke. You will carry the same name, but the legacy will be even more grand once we eradicate the Absolute and the brain." Wyll spared Gale a small smile at his attempt at comfort, his horn bumping gently against the man's temple.

"Check on Yenna. She must have been frightened."

"We will speak later, okay? You're not alone."

"I know. I know that all too well." Wyll pressed a gentle kiss to the wizards cheek before Gale left his side. He sighed. "Thank you. For helping me steel my resolve. Even if the weight of my decision lays heavy on me tonight."

"You trusted my opinion on what was best for you. That in itself is a great honour, Wyll." Tar'eon fiddled with the bandage peeking out from beneath his armour, tucking it away. "But this isn't the end for your father. Mizora likes to talk of reading the fine print, but I'm afraid I was one step ahead of her this time." He smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"Your father is still at the Fortress. Under strict orders to be unharmed. I...struck a deal with En- Gortash."

"You bargained with Gortash?" Wyll's eyes widened.

"You bargained with Gortash?!" Tar'eon turned around to look at Karlach, her expression shattered by the betrayal, anger quickly morphing onto her face. "You better explain yourself, solider, or the next devil on my kill list will be you."

"Now, now, no need to get violent, Karlach." Astarion smoothly stepped between her and Tar'eon, casting a glare to the male tiefling. "He will be explaining many things tonight."

"I'm sorry, Karlach." Tar'eons heart seized at the hurt in her eyes. "But I did it for us. All of us."

"Bullshit! What could he have offered to make dealing with that slimy arsehole worth it?"

"His Steel Watch is all over the city. Unless we can find a way to shut them down, we won't get far. He's offered us a pass, free reign around the city, and the Duke's safety. I made a vow - we do no harm to him, he does no harm to us. For now, he's our ally."

"So that's it?" Karlach laughed, not with humour but with irony of it all. "I can't even fight you on it. Free reign, and Wyll's father kept alive? It'd be cruel of me to deny you your family, or our friends safety." Karlach looked at Wyll and shook her head, turning away from Tar'eon. "I'm never the priority anyway. Not unless I'm smashing skulls."

"Karlach, that's not true. You're so much more, and if I saw any other way, I would have discard the deal instantly. But we need to find Orin, get her Netherstone, and stabilise the brain, or we'll all be turned into illithids. You'll be a slave to a new master, we all will. The whole Coast."

"Promise me, the moment we don't need his 'protection' anymore...we'll kill him. He deserves to die after everything he's done to me."

"I..." Tar'eons mouth went dry. He always kept his promises, or at least, he tried. "He knows where the brain is. We won't be able to find it without him. When the dust clears, and the brain is no more...You can do as please." He bit the inside of his cheeks. Astarion was watching him, gaze scrutinising.

"How noble. Choosing your new friend over an old flame." Astarion mused and Tar'eons heart stuttered, eyes widening.

"You- what?" Karlach turned to Tar'eon in shock. "What is talking about?"

"I...Astar." Tar'eon narrowed his eyes at the vampire. "That wasn't your right to tell."

"Someone has to be spilling your secrets, or you never will." Astarion glared right back. "I think it's about time we gather around the fire and have a long talk about whatever you're hiding from us." Tar'eons tail wrapped around his ankle, his giveaway. Astarion glanced down at the action and Tar'eon cursed himself. This whole time, Astarion had known when he was omitting the truth, all because of his subconscious habit. The vampire leaned in close and took in a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"I can smell him on you. Your blood, the lingering magic on your skin, and the ink that stains it is unlike any common brand - it all lingers under the blood of shapeshifters. I'm not stupid."

"He attacked me in his office when I made the deal for the Duke's life - he thought I was Orin." Tar'eon insisted. "He's my past, he's not present or my future, Astar. Let it go. You know how much I love you." Was Astarion really that jealous?

"You- you and Gortash knew each other?" Karlach looked like she had been punched in the solar plexus. "Why didn't you tell me? I- I trusted you when I told you about him. Everything he did to me - did you even care?"

"Of course I did! I didn't bring you to the coronation because I didn't want you to be forced into a room with him again. I understand your anger, Karlach, I do, I feel it every time I see Orin, see the woman who scrambled my brain and ruined me, betrayed her own brother, stripped me of my memories, of all the truths I deserved!" Tar'eons chest rose and fell rapidly, panting through the intensity of his emotions. His eyes burned, the confessions tumbling from his lips regardless of his previous resistance to admitting his secrets.

He didn't care if they could all hear him.

"You have no idea what I'm going through right now. You have no idea about every time I'd held myself back from splitting skulls and choking the life out of all of you! You're my friends, the people who trust me to lead you into battle and come out unscathed, and every day I had to live in disgust and contempt with myself because no matter how much I love you all, I want to bathe the camp in a river of blood!" Karlach stumbled back in shock, Wyll's own eyes wide. He heard the unsheathing of blades behind him, but he couldn't stop. Even Astarion looked shocked.

"I have denied my Urges for every step of this journey, taking the role of a leader because nobody else wanted to be. I thought I hated myself before when I was simply trying not to kill you all, but I damned all of us! Everyone in the Coast. It's all my fault. The Absolute, it's all my fault!" Tears slipped down his cheeks and he covered his eyes, his chin wobbling as he dug his teeth into his bottom lip.

"All I wanted was a family to come back to after all of this, to find a home and restart my life...but my family is Bhaal! Is Orin the Red! I am his. His spawn. There will be no reunion for me, no home, no life after this. I will continue to deny my Father, mark my words, but even I know there will be consequence in doing so. I have damned us all in a life I don't even remember. I enslaved the brain with Enver, and yes, he is the only thing of my past that doesn't invoke anger or loneliness. The only thing that feels something like home. Sue me for being unable to deny him a useful pact. He offered me the chance to rule Baldur's Gate beside him, and if I were a lesser man, I would have taken it in a heartbeat. If only to belong somewhere."

"Tar'eon-" Astarion placed a hand on his arm and Tar'eon shook him off, dropping his hand from his face with a glare.

"Are you happy? There's my secrets, laid bare before you. I let you come to me. Why couldn't you do the same?" Tar'eon closed his eyes and shook his head, shouldering past Wyll. He needed away. He needed quiet. His mind was screaming, aching, trying to turn his skull inside out.

"You- Tar'eon! Where are you going?" Karlach yelled after him.

"You can't leave after saying all that!" Gale shouted.

"Did you know, Astarion?" Shadowheart asked the vampire, and Astarion pursed his lips.

"I knew of his urges. I didn't know he was Bhaalspawn."

Tar'eon held his pounding head, the ground beneath his feet rumbling. He heard his companions shouts of surprise, all trying to steady themselves. He allowed the tremors of the earth to guide him down its slope, disappearing into the thickets of bushes and casting invisibility as he went.

"TAR'EON!" Astarion called out into the wilderness, but there was nothing but silence. He cursed and hauled a stone in his anger, fangs bared as he berated himself. He'd pushed the man over the edge, and now, he was off somewhere he couldn't find him. He didn't even know if he'd be back when the morning came. Astarion ran a hand through his hair, ruining it's perfection in his frustration. He'd been counting the hours until it would come to an end...something told him his hours were up.

Tar'eon didn't realise that this was their home. It was his. His family was here. Astarion had shoved him one last time towards the door of their fragile home, and now he had walked right out and disappeared. He looked to the others who were conversing together, expressions all troubled and worried, a few disguising it better than the others. Jaheria stood at her tent, her swords sheathed, but gaze distrustful as she stood there, arms crossed. Thinking.

Astarion didn't sleep that night. He was too busy watching, waiting, for Tar'eon to come home.

#astarion x dark urge #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x male tav #astarion x mc #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate tav #past durgetash

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