[ Mikage Reo ]

[ mikage reo ]

you sat across from the famous football player, staring at him blankly as he slurped the last few drop of his iced coffee obnoxiously, staring back at you almost as if he was trying to annoy you. after finally being done and letting out a loud annoying sigh, he blinked. “hi.”

you shut your eyes for a brief second, taking in a deep breath while trying not to come up with at least fifty ways to murder him as you attempted to fully register the situation. “nagi, it’s three in the morning.”

“mhm.”

“i haven’t spoken to you in years. why are you here?”

“i had a fight with reo.” he said bluntly, moving the straw around his cup. the ice moved inside loudly, only testing your patience further. he seemed as if he was done talking, but the sharp look you gave him made him pout and before he continued, finally stopping the noise. “we live together, i couldn’t stay with him.”

“and you decided that instead of staying with any of your friends, isagi, chigiri, barou, bachira— you decided to pack, somehow track me down and come over without notice?”

“i couldn’t stay at any of their homes,” he rolled his eyes as if you were the idiot. “let me explain this, [y/n]. when a kid has divorced parents and he fights with one of them, he goes to stay with the other.”

you needed a cigarette and you didn’t even fucking smoke.

“…did you just say that mikage and i are your divorced parents?” you asked, bewildered. he nodded casually, leaning his palm on one hand as he stared at you. you leaned back, massaging your temples in pure frustration. “are all football players this insane?”

“probably.” he shrugged. “i also forgot my phone and wallet, so you will have to pay for me until i decide to go back. oh, speaking off, can we order takeout? i’m really hungry.”

“nagi.”

“…yes?”

“get the fuck to bed.”

his eyes seemed to fill up with amusement despite the dramatic sigh he let out as he got up, staring at you expectantly. you gestured to the room at the end of the hallway and he nodded, poking his tongue out before he walked away.

you passed out at the kitchen table that day, wondering what the fuck to do with the man child in your guest room, and woke up the next morning by someone poking your cheek. “[y/n]. [y/n]. [y/n]. [y/n]. [y/—“

“say my name one more time and i am disowning you,” you muttered blankly, voice thick with sleep as you buried your face deeper into your arms. you heard him snort, but you ignored it, sighing. “what?”

“i ordered takeout because i can’t make breakfast and i didn’t want you to kill me if i woke you up to cook. where’s your wallet?”

you pushed yourself up with a light groan, looking around until your eyes fell on the backpack you usually took to your college. you gestured there vaguely and he immediately dragged himself towards it, pulling it open harshly before he grabbed your wallet, frowning. “this is an ugly wallet.”

“die.”

“you’re a very bad parent.” he hummed. you narrowed your eyes at him as he pulled the door open and paid, accepting two pizza boxes before he mumbled a ‘thank you’ and shut the door quietly, looking towards you after. “wanna join for breakfast?”

you sighed, pushing your aching body up. “why not?”

after you two silently ate while he intensely watched a full two-hour youtube video about all possible theories behind his favorite game, you finally turned to him. “i have three questions.”

he blinked. “only three? you’re a changed person. what are they?”

you rolled his eyes. “one, when are you planning to return?”

“you could at least pretend you’re happy to see your ex-boyfriend’s best friend after years.” he muttered, sulking, before sighing. “friday night, we have a match saturday morning.”

you nodded slowly, then paused. “how are you planning to piss mikage off if he doesn’t even know where you are?”

he blinked. “oh, i didn’t think about that. give me your phone, i’ll send him a photo of us together.”

“i don’t have his number.” you informed blankly. he raised his eyebrows, and you raised one in response. “what?”

“he still have your number saved in his favorites with, like, a million heart emojis. you’re cruel.” he muttered monotonously, snatching your phone either way. you watched closely as he opened instagram and logged into his private account before he leaned into you, poking his tongue out as he snapped a picture. you poked your tongue out as well just to humor him, both your faces blank, and you snorted when you saw his caption.

like parent like son.

“last question.” you hummed. he groaned loudly, and you raised an eyebrow. “just one and i’ll let you stay over without complaining for the next few days.”

“shoot.”

“what was the fight about?”

he paused for a second, two, three, then, “i don’t want to talk about it.”

you stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed, glancing at your watch. “okay. i have to get ready for college, so make yourself at home, i guess.”

he seemed surprised that you let go of it, but you didn’t overthink it, getting up and going to your room. god, you needed a hot, long shower. after getting everything ready and so, you walked back out into the living room, where nagi was watching another game analysis video on your TV. yet, he seemed to be sulking a little more, and you sighed at your own words in advance.

“hey, nagi, wanna sneak into my college and attend classes with me?”

“sounds like a hassle.” he deadpanned, glancing up. you hummed, turning around, before a thud echoed as he rolled off the couch, followed by a groan. “hold on, i’m in.”

you snorted.

before you realized, it was friday morning, and as much as you hated to admit, you were going to miss nagi. you two had gotten close when you were dating reo and tended to pull a lot of all nighters together playing nagi’s favorite games, which got you really close. however, after the breakup, reo had really pulled back and cut off all contact, which you guessed had included nagi as well when the taller player stopped talking to you.

“morning,” nagi yawned tiredly as he walked into the kitchen, where you sat on your phone, greeting him with a hum. “oh, did you pack your bags already?”

you blinked, pausing, before you looked up. “what?”

he blinked back. “did i forgot to tell you? you’re coming with me.”

“what?” you hissed, eyes wide. “what do you— i’m not going with you.”

“i already have your ticket, don’t let me get a refund!” he whined, slumping across of you. “i got it when i booked mine.”

“and you are just telling me now?”

“i forgot.” he deadpanned. “now go pack.”

“i have college.”

“you told me you have a week-long break. go pack.”

“i’m not staying with you.”

“i’ll book a suite for you in the most expensive hotel, just please go pack!”

“…i fucking hate you.” you muttered, pushing yourself up before placing a plate in front of him. he took a huge bite as you walked away, and you could hear him hum at the taste before talking.

“love you too!” he yelled back.

that night, after you two got on the plane, he decided to inform you that he had also got you a vip ticket for the game the next day, and he was so lucky you couldn’t murder him with that much witnesses around.

you had the same feeling as you watched the players walk into the field on saturday night, sipping on your drink while waiting trying to calm your nerves. it had been years since you saw reo, and you were definitely not ready to see him again. you would be lying if you said you didn’t put effort into your appearance for the night, but who wouldn’t?

before you could completely prepare yourself, your eyes fell on an annoyingly familiar mop of purple hair, angrily whispering something to nagi. nagi gave him one of his famous blank looks before he turned around and met your eyes, and you immediately glared at him.

‘do not!’ you mouthed clearly, well aware that he could see it, and his lips only twitched up before he nonchalantly pointed in your direction, and you glared at him.

that fucking traitor.

reo turned around in an alarming speed, eyes wide as he did so, searching the crowd almost desperately before his eyes fell on you. you had managed to compose yourself enough to go back to looking bored, offering him a lazy wave when your eyes met, and he only turned back quickly towards nagi, waving around vaguely as he said something that caused his team members to all look at him, eyes wide.

chigiri asked something and nagi pointed back at you, and you swore you could cut his damn finger off if you could as almost the entire team turned to you in sync, eyes wide, and you offered a peace sign this time, face blank as you poked your tongue out.

the only one who saw the humor in this was nagi, who snorted and immediately got smacked by reo, who was sharply avoiding looking in your direction. they all offered bewildered waves and you turned back to sipping on your drink, waiting for the stupid match to end so you can get back to your hotel.

they won, fucking of course, and you immediately slipped out, shooting nagi a text once you made it back to the hotel congratulating him. you got a simple ‘:x’ back and snorted, decided to take a relaxing bath before going to grab a coffee for yourself.

and so, hours later, you were finally ready, dressed nicely and humming quietly as you grabbed your phone and wallet, pausing once a familiar voice echoed in the hallway. you walked towards the door, quietly pressing your ear against it, and heard someone suck in a sharp breath. “you can do it, you can do it. this will go okay, you can totally fucking do this, you can—“

you shut your eyes and breathed in deeply as an attempt to calm yourself down before opening the door, eyes immediately meeting widening purple ones as reo stilled. it was silent for a few seconds until reo took a step back, forcing on a practiced smile that you easily knew was fake.

“hi,” he spoke, voice smoother than you had remembered, and held a bouquet of white roses. you arched an eyebrow, face still blank as you accepted it, and he laughed awkwardly, shifting on his feet. “apology on nagi’s behalf.”

“it’s okay.” you responded calmly, carefully setting them aside. “couldn’t leave my child, after all.”

he cracked an awkward smile, but remained silent until you glanced back at him, and he gestured to your outfit. “going, uh, somewhere?”

“coffee.” you replied bluntly, and then internally grimaced, sighing before you spoke again, already regretting your words. “…would you like to tag along?”

“yes.” he agreed eagerly, then paused, skin tinting just the slightest. “i mean, uh, if you would like me to. i don’t mean i don’t want to, i do, but only if you—“

you would be a huge liar if you deny how you enjoyed being one of the very few people who can get reo to break his collected, charming rich boy filter. “reo?”

he immediately shut up, blinking, and you couldn’t help but think about how he resembled a lost puppy. “yeah?”

“let’s go.”

(you, later that night, shot nagi a reluctant ‘thank you’ text, one he responded with a ‘:p’ in reply for before casually informing you that there was no argument, just a small disagreement about reo being too much of a cowards to reach out and that he was just bored. you unsent your ‘thank you’, and he sent a ‘bad parenting :c’ back.)

Restlessness

Summary:

She usually only lets Astarion feed on her while she is asleep. Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better. But she can't get to sleep tonight, so she is just going to have to make do.

Contains: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood stuff (comes with the territory) Word Count: 5,143 Read on AO3

Astarion has been feeding on her almost every night for the past month now. Most nights while she is still asleep, though he is always surprisingly insistent about obtaining direct consent before she moves to her tent for the evening, by this point she has just assumed that the agreement is mutual and that there is little need for him to keep asking. Though she doesn't have it in her to be upset about the courtesy. 

She generally prefers that he drinks while she is sleeping, only knowing that it happened when she wakes up the next morning with a dull throb in her neck and Astarion giving her a knowing smirk from across the camp. 

Not that she has any problem with Astarion, the case just is that him feeding from her while she is still conscious is profoundly intimate and she can’t really be sure if Astarion has noticed or even if he particularly cares, about how quickly her heart races when he does it. So while she is asleep is better, it's much better. 

Being the vampire’s resident midnight snack does occasionally earn her some uncomfortable looks from other members of their little group. Especially after one of the few nights she had been awake for the ordeal and the feeling of his hand moving to her hip caused her body to jolt so intensely that Astarion accidentally tore her throat up with his fangs. Shadowheart dutifully healed it, but gave her a stare so oppressive that even a slight uptick of the half-elf’s judgemental eyebrow would surely have killed her on the spot. 

Astarion did apologize, but then quickly switched to insisting that she needed to let him know next time she decided to experiment with interpretive dance while he was firmly latched to her throat. 

That was the night they both agreed, it might be better if he only feeds while she is out cold. 

This night, however. Sleep will not come. She knows that it has been nearly a day and a half since Astarion has last eaten, any and all the fighting that took place today in the dark remains of Shar’s gauntlet were against foes severely lacking in the blood department, and tomorrow will likely be the same. To be honest, they were lucky at all, to find somewhere safe and quiet enough to camp in this miserable place. 

She rubs her eyes, still sitting upright in her tent despite all efforts to lull herself to sleep. She sighs heavily, tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, usually a long day like this tires her out completely, and she is a very heavy sleeper, but today’s journey has left her so exhausted that even sleep evades her. 

The rustling of her tent flap nearly has her topping over with shock, hardly expecting any visitors after the terrible day they had all endured. The realization hits her when Astarion climbs in.

“Oh.” He says, freezing halfway into the tent, “Apologies, you are not usually so…well, conscious, at this time of night.” She had agreed to him feeding on her again this evening, assuming that she would be well asleep by now like usual. She sighs and gives him a wan smile, “Sorry, I can’t sleep.” “I suppose dinner is off the table then, isn't it?” He replies, wearing a smile that seems far tighter than his usual lazy smirk. 

“No!” She says quickly, “Gods no, there’s nothing else for you to eat down here and it’s been almost two days.” Astarion frowns, suddenly becoming very interested in his fingernails, “I can always go back to eating rats if I must, there is certainly no lack of them in this miserable place.” He tries to maintain a casual air, but there is venom behind those words. His voice does return to being playful when he says, “Or, should the situation become incredibly dire, I’m sure that our resident hero would let me have a bite if I asked very nicely.” For some reason, the thought of Astarion feeding on Wyll instead of her causes a thick cloud of jealousy to build behind her ribs. She ignores it, “Just come inside, we’ll figure something out.” she says, shuffling backward a little to give him more room, “And close the front of the tent, please.” 

When he turns back to her and takes a seat on the hard ground, she can’t help but notice just how etherial he looks in the soft orange glow of her lantern. Even on the nights when she does sleep, she prefers to keep the lantern on, both because the darkness makes her uneasy, and because (even though she knows he can see in the dark) it feels like common courtesy to leave a light on for Astarion. 

“So.” He says

“So…” she replies

Astarion sighs, “Look, darling. If you are simply too delicate for me to have my meal while you are awake, I’m sure that I can find a way to occupy myself for now.” He levels his gaze with her, “Something more entertaining than just staring at each other.”

She bristles, “I’m not delicate, I’m just-” she can’t finish the sentence. She’s just what? Too shy, embarrassed maybe, certainly nervous, “I’m fidgety.” she lies, “and I don’t want to cause another…incident.” He laughs, “Oh yes, not willing to suffer another of Shadowheart’s glares, are you?” “No.” She begins, averting her eyes as she feels her cheeks burning, “Not at present.”

“Then what do you suggest? Since you don’t seem to be planning on getting your beauty sleep anytime soon.” She chews on a knuckle, mulling it over. There’s no way she could handle him leaning over her like that again, his scent surrounding her, one of his hands cradling the back of her head as he finally sinks his teeth into the side of her- 

“It might be better, if i’m sitting upright.” She offers. Astarion blinks, “Upright?” “Maybe. I think.” 

It would at the very least, be far less intimate, more clinical. Astarion hums to himself, “As you know, i don’t have all that much experience in the matter, but i can hardly see how you would expect to stay upright and the last thing we need is you cracking your skull open on the ground.”

“Then I would just need something to lean against.” She says quickly, “I just think I would be far better at sitting still this way, that's all.”

“Well, I’m right here, darling.” He says, almost dismissively, upset that she wouldn’t consider it herself, “You could always lean against me.” 

Her eyes widen. That would defeat the purpose of this whole exercise, but she can’t very well tell him that. 

“As long as it wouldn’t make things more difficult for you.” She begins, choosing her words slowly and carefully, “I would at least be happy to try.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” He says, leaning backward a little and letting his thighs fall open, “The last thing this could possibly be for me is difficult.” She stares down at him, eyes wide as she realizes that she has only managed to make this situation worse. 

“Oh….kay” She says, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. In the end she opts to face away from him, sitting cross legged between his legs and shimmying backward until she feels his chest pressed up against her back. She sucks a difficult breath in through her teeth and though he isn’t warm, he might as well be, the way she immediately breaks out in a nervous sweat. 

“Come come, my dear.” He says, his tone hushed as he carefully draws her hair away from her throat, “I’ve had plenty of time to practice being gentle all those nights you were asleep, no need to be so nervous.” She’s more than a little embarrassed at how instinctively she tilts her head to the side for him, almost beckoning him to bite down. It’s not that part that makes her nervous, not at all. It’s that she recalls a conversation, brief and quickly dismissed, that the two had by a campfire many nights ago. A mention of disgust, words spat like bile about the man who forced him to use himself night after night. A disgust of her own, when she remembered how many days she’d spend staring at him, nights under his body as he fed, wishing and wanting for him to touch her. 

She had been far too forward that night, prodding where she shouldn't. Astarion had just laughed, dismissed her concern and refused to elaborate. 

“I trust you.” She whispers when she feels the ghost of his breath on her neck.

Astarion tenses behind her, and she closes her eyes as he descends, waiting for the bite that never comes. His lips press against the side of her throat, softly, lightly, the way a lover might kiss. She gasps aloud, and quickly covers her mouth with a hand, trying to hide the sound. 

One of his hands wraps around hers, gently removing it from her mouth, “No.” he says, pressing another kiss to the cut of her jaw, “Let me hear you.” 

A whimper climbs its way up her throat when he wraps a possessive arm around her, his thumb gently brushing across the lower swell of her breast. She feels his teeth against her neck, not biting, gentle and tantalizing. 

This is what she had been afraid of, that she would encourage something like this and then lack the restraint to tell him no. Her head inclines backwards, resting on his shoulder and releasing a keening moan when he sucks on her pulsepoint. 

“Astarion-” she tries, breaking off into a moan when he slides his hand up and squeezes her breast in his palm. 

He chuckles against her throat, “I do so love hearing you say my name like that.” he croons into her ear, his hand sliding down the collar of her loose linen shirt to cup her breast directly, “Say it again for me, would you?”

“W-Wait, please” She forces out, trying to ignore the growing warmth between her thighs, and the cool press of his palm against her breast. 

At her words, Astarion freezes completely. She can barely even feel him breathing anymore. 

“Yes, of course.” He says quickly, too quickly, there’s something that sounds like panic in his voice, “I- well, I hope i didn’t misread the situation.” “No! That’s- that’s not what I meant, it’s just-” She reaches her hand up backwards until she finds his face, cupping his cheek in her palm, “Astarion…you don’t have to if-“ if you don’t want to, if it doesn’t mean anything, if it hurts too much, or Gods forbid if you think you owe me something. 

He stays still for long enough that she begins to worry she said something wrong, that she overstepped a boundary and he was just going to laugh dismissively again. Instead, he turns his head so he can lightly kiss the palm of her hand. 

“I know.” He breathes, and it somehow soothes all her worries at once, “I know I don’t have to, but I do want to.” She can almost hear his smile when he says, “That is, of course, provided that you don’t want me to stop.”

“Gods no…” she exhales, leaning back against him, “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Good.” He nearly moans, his hand jumping to the laces at the front of her shirt and quickly undoing them until it hangs wide open all the way down to her sternum. It surprises her a moment, how familiar he seems with undoing her clothes, but then she remembers each morning, waking up with a bite at the join between her shoulder and neck. A courtesy, so none of the others would see it, but he would only be able to reach that low by loosening her shirt. 

She feels herself growing warm at the thought, smirking when she asks, “You’ve undressed me before, have you?”

Astarion huffs, licking a stripe up the side of her neck, “Nothing more than was necessary to get at your shoulder, darling.” his cold hands grab both her breasts at once, and he groans, “I was trying to save you from any judgemental stares.” 

Her head lolls backward and she moves her hand to his hair, tangling her fingers in tight. His hands are cold against her bare skin, but she is already so warm all over that any reprieve from the heat is a welcome one. 

“Is this why you could never sit still while I was feeding on you?” Astarion breathes, one of his hands sliding down the front of her torso to rub over the front of her woolen breeches, “Because you couldn’t stop imaging this?” his hand slips beneath her breeches and into her smalls, “Gods…” he hisses through his teeth, “You’re so wet and I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Don’t act so coy.” She replies, gasping aloud when his talented fingers dip inside her just enough that she is quivering in anticipation for more, and when his thumb reaches up to circle her clit, she whimpers desperately, “You have all the clarification you need right here.”

“Do I?” He asks slowly, fully removing his fingers from her cunt and resting his hand on her hip, “What if I want to hear you admit it?”

She whines, missing his touch already, “Please…” “No no no, you know what you have to do.” He murmurs, breath ghosting across her neck as he presses another kiss to her skin, “You did lie to me about it earlier, don’t I deserve to hear the truth from your delectable lips?” “F-Fine.” She mutters, shame dissolving into something far more sinful as she finally confesses what she is certain he already knew, “The real reason I asked you to only feed while I was asleep, was because I-” his free hand joins the other on her hips, slowly edging her breeches and smalls down over her thighs, “Because I didn’t think I could control myself.”

He laughs warmly against her skin, fingers just barely skirting around the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, “My my, with talk like that, you’d think that it is I who should be afraid of you.”

“Maybe you should.” She says, trying and failing to maintain a casual air even as his fingers slowly descend, “After all, who knows that I might- nhg!” “Hm? Sorry, what was that?” Astarion asks, two of his fingers now knuckle deep inside of her. 

“I’m h-hardly in a state to offer much witty banter, Astarion.” She stammers, barely even able to speak as his fingers start moving, slow and precise, like he is savoring it. 

“But I do so love when you try.” He smiles against her neck, a third finger easily wriggling in alongside the other two. She goes practically boneless against him, unable to keep her hips still as he curls his fingers upward just right and when his thumb teases another utterly devious circle around her clit she feels herself tightening around his fingers. Astarion groans, hiding his face in her shoulder and grinding himself against her lower back, “Hells, darling, you are perfect.”

One of her hands moves to his thigh, struggling to find purchase as she completely loses herself to the pleasure. If the full weight of her body essentially collapsed against him gives Astarion pause, he doesn’t show it, his fingers never falter. The pace he maintains is utterly languid, slow and warm and wet, fast enough that she wouldn’t call it teasing but like he wants to work for it, to enjoy the luxury of taking his time with her. 

She moans when his other hand returns to her breast, rubbing addictive circles around her nipple with his thumb. Everything starts to turn hazy at the edges, her body is twitching and desperate. 

“Gods…” She hisses through her teeth. Astarion chuckles against her throat, “Come now, darling. There’s only one god here.” she feels the light graze of his sharp teeth, “and he’d much prefer you call him by his name.” “Astarion…” she tries, “Please.” He exhales a shaky breath, but otherwise maintains his composure, “Please what, my sweet?”

She’s on the exhilarating precipice of her climax, barely even able to speak, her body feels so hot that Astarion’s hands nearly burn in their coolness and she can scarcely imagine a world where she doesnt have them pressed against her. Whimpering and mewling under his touch and so unsure of what it is she even wants until: “Bite me!” comes bursting out from her mouth.

Astarion chokes on a breath, and she feels the soft lick of her tongue over his pulsepoint, “Are you sure?” “Yes!” She hisses, practicaly fucking herself on his fingers now, “Gods yes.” She feels more than hears the rumble of his moan, “Do try to stay still.” he purrs, and then sinks his fangs into her throat. The immediate pain feels almost electric jumping from her throat, to her fingertips, to her toes, a quick sharp jolt that is near instantly replaced with a nauseating bliss. 

Her head lolls to the side, relishing in the feeling as he begins devouring her. The beat of her heart is loud in her ears, and the pump of his fingers is no longer so tender, with each movement his thumb brushes firmly against her clit and her whole body tenses. He curls his fingers upward, and her hips cant forward violently. 

Unlike last time, Astarion is quick to pull his fangs from her throat, before any real damage can occur, “You really can’t sit still, can you?” He groans in her ear, his voice void of any of its usual musicality as he grinds himself up against her in time with his fingers. A bubbling laugh escapes her mouth as she revels in the feeling of his length pressed firmly against her lower back, at the way his own hips don’t seem to want to stop moving, “N-Neither can you.” she says through her moans. “What can I say?” He murmurs, mouth slowly returning to the open wound on her neck, “You are positively delicious.” He does not bite again, instead lapping and sucking at the blood as it flows freely out of her. She can barely breathe, lost in utter exhilaration as the lightheadedness takes hold, his fingers curl and thrust inside of her, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she finds herself completely unable to hold back her whimpers and moans. 

Astarion completely covers the bite mark with his mouth, sucking with true fervor now as she teeters closer and closer to her climax. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she frantically grinds herself against his awaiting fingers, the warmth builds and builds in her belly until she feels like she is about to turn to lightning in his arms. 

“A-Astarion, I-” Her words collapse into a desperate, aching moan as she tumbles over the edge, the world turning white behind her eyes and the heat rushing out from her core all the way to her fingertips. The euphoria is so encompassing that she nearly sobs as his fingers begin to slow their movements within her. 

He has the sense not to say anything, at least for a moment, and she can scarcely imagine how she looks right now. Her hair clings to her forehead with sweat, tears are beading in her eyes and- oh gods had she been drooling? She quickly raises a hand to wipe her mouth, and as she is doing so, she turns her head to look at him and oh.

Astarion blinks down at her, and the look in his eyes is heady and lust drunk, but there is something else to it as well, bordering on reverence. His cheeks are flushed, and she knows that can only happen when he has just fed. She swallows thickly at the red colouring of his lips, where her own blood is currently spread. Curiosity does something sinister to her, and she wants to taste it herself. 

His eyes go wide when she kisses him, and wider again when she darts out her tongue lick over his teeth. Astarion’s chest is heaving when she pulls back, his red eyes watching cautiously, as though unsure of her next move. She reaches out and takes his cheek in her palm, his skin is warmer than it was before.

“Your turn.” She whispers, trailing her hand from his cheek, down his sternum to the waistband of his breeches. She looks up at him quickly and is emboldened by the desire she still sees in his eyes, untucking his shirt and pulling it up over his head. He’s all perfect, smooth, porcelain skin, but her eyes can’t help being drawn to the way her rough undressing has left his hair disheveled. She tangles her fingers in it, smiling at how boyishly handsome he looks with his hair in disarray. 

“If it’s all the same to you, my dear.” He breathes, beginning to sound impatient, “I’ve waited for you long enough.” She laughs, edging his breeches and undergarments down over his hips, “So impatient for someone with your lifespan.”

He frowns at her, but she is surprised to find how easily she can tell he doesn’t mean it, “If anything, that should speak to just how much I crave you.” He croons as she swings one leg over his hips, hoving just over his lap, “You should be flattered.” “I am.” She replies with not a hint of irony, “I consider myself incredibly lucky.” Astarion reaches up to her face and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “As do I.”

She wraps her arms around his shoulders to steady herself as she slowly lowers herself down, stutting a gasp when the head of his cock meets her entrance. It’s as cold as the rest of him, and she has to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out when she takes in the first inch. She’s still incredibly sensitive from her first climax, and the coolness of him feels so alien and utterly addictive that she is already panting and whimpering by the time he bottoms out inside of her. 

Astarion lets out a shaky moan when she finally sits down fully, his hands jumping to her waist and his head falling to rest on her shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, just clinging to each other, no sounds but their breathing and the rapid tattoo of her heart. 

When he looks up at her again, Astarion’s smile is utterly salacious, “You have me now, darling.” he whispers, pressing a cool kiss to her shoulder, “Perhaps it would the perfect moment for you to show me some of those, things you have been thinking about doing to me all this time.” 

Astarion isn’t usually that much taller than her, but even still, there is something addictive about their current positioning and the way he has to peer up at her. She tilts her head to the side, taking in the sight of him, his blood flushed cheeks and the glint of his teeth behind his wide smile. 

“Would it be…strange-” she begins, tangling one of her hands in the back of his hair, “-If said that i had often imagined biting you.” “Hah!” Astarion exclaims, grinning broadly, “Well, it would be hardly fair for me to ask you to keep your teeth to yourself, wouldn’t it?” Her brows pull together, “You can say no, Astarion.” His eyes go wide for a moment, and his face is awash with a sudden vulnerability, “I- Yes, I know that I can.” His smile returns, but now the look in his eyes is warmer, softer, “But I don’t want to.” He inclines his head to the side, exposing the length of his throat, “Go on, darling. Let me know how I taste, would you?”

She leans into his neck, breathing in his scent as she presses a soft kiss to his skin. He makes a noise, a startled intake of breath, his hands on her waist gripping tighter and she opens her mouth and bites. Astarion cries out, and his hips stutter his cock deeper inside of her. She moans against his skin, grinding her hips down to meet his and languishing in the feeling of just how well he fills her. 

Her teeth are far blunter than his, and actually drawing any blood would take a considerable amount of force and cause a considerable amount of pain, but even without the taste of blood in her mouth there is still something so delectably perverse about biting down on him, about burying her face in his throat. She moans, kissing from the base of his neck and up to the curve of his jaw, sucking gently on the skin there and smiling when she pulls away to see purple marks blooming on his pale skin. 

Astarion’s breath is heavy when he looks at her, but his eyes are soft and relaxed, “Admiring your handiwork, are you?” He laughs a little, peering up at her coquettishly, “Does it suit me?” She traces a finger over the crescent shaped bruises left by her teeth, smiling at him as she whispers, “Very much so, and now I believe we are even.” “Are we now?” Astarion replies, a mischievous look crossing his face as his hands move down to her hips, “Because as far as I can recall, only one of us has seen stars this evening.” 

“We’ll need to rectify this situation then, won’t we?” She says, her breath quickening as she grinds down on him. 

Astarion’s grip on her hips grows tighter and he chokes on a groan, “You look beautiful up there, my dear.” he thrusts up into her, slowly and deeply, “Sitting pretty on my lap, just for me.”

Her head lolls forward, whining as his cock brushes against that perfect spot inside of her. 

“Look at me.” Astarion whispers, and she tilts her head up to meet his eyes. His breath stutters when he sees her expression, desperate and adoring, “I want to see your face as I’m fucking you, darling.” She giggles shyly, resisting the urge to hide her face in her hands and Astarion smiles, “Good girl.” 

He uses the grip on her hips to lift her up and she whimpers as his cock leaves her, only to cry out when he drops her back down. Shifting her weight to her knees, she follows his lead bouncing on his cock to meet him on the upstroke. He never breaks eye contact, staring as her breath leaves her, watching reverently as she pants and moans with each of his movements. 

“A-Astarion…” She moans, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, “You’re so good, you feel so good.”

He laughs breathlessly, “Would you believe that you feel even better?”

One of his hands moves from her hip around to her front, his talented fingers rubbing encouraging circles on her clit. She keens loudly, digging her nails into his shoulders, “Didn’t I say it was your turn.” She forces out, “You really don’t have-” “You greatly underestimate just how much making you climax arouses me, my sweet.” He groans when he rubs her a little faster, feeling her walls clench around him in response, “I have been thinking about it, constantly.” 

She can feel her orgasm building again, the combination of his fingers and his cock driving her absolutely wild. He’s so warm now, her own growing heat slowly warming his cold skin over time, she wants to grab onto him and never let go. His hips are losing rhythm beneath her, driving his cock up into her with short, stuttered thrusts.  Gods she can feel him throbbing. 

“I’m-I’m close again.” She breathes. 

He groans at even the thought of it, “Good. So am I.”

“Fill me, Gods, Astarion- please” She moans, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pressing him flush against her. 

His own arms wrap tightly around her waist as he fucks up into her at an utterly desperate speed. His breath coming quick and fast, he buries his face in her shoulder, mouthing at the side of her neck, waiting as always, for her permission. 

“Fuck! Yes, Please, bite me!” She cries out, feeling the warmth of her oncoming climax already blooming in her belly, “Gods, Astarion, I am all yours.” His breath hitches at that, the frantic movement of his hips stopping for only a moment, “Mine…” he breathes, and then sinks his fangs into the side of her throat. She can barely comprehend what she is feeling, him all around her, inside her in more ways than one. She’s open, vulnerable, yearning and Astarion is all she ever wanted. 

Her second climax of the night is louder, twitchier, her whole body quivers as it feels like she is shoved over the precipice, her insides clenching desperately around him and her hands digging into his hair as she howls into the open air. 

“H-Hells!” He stammers at the feeling of her coming undone around him, clutching to her as tightly as he can before emptying inside of her. 

There’s warmth, for some time, as the two of them return from the white hot afterglow. She gently runs her fingers through his hair, and Astarion softly laps at any of the mess left on the side of her neck before kissing tenderly over the bite mark left behind. 

“Would you stay?” She whispers, hiding her face in his shoulder, nervous for his answer. 

Astarion chuckles, “Are you that insatiable, my dear? Can’t get enough?” She shakes her head, “No, I mean it. Stay with me until morning, we can talk, or sleep, I don't mind.” His breath is shaky now, and one of her hands comes up to rest on the back of her head, “I don’t really know what we are doing.” he breathes, “But I’d like to try, with you.” She sits up a little, meeting his eyes. There is apprehension there, yes, but more than that there is something warm and real. She smiles, “I guess we’ll have to figure it out together.”

His smile is lopsided and effortless, “Though I’m sure Shadowheart will have something entertaining to say, come morning.”

She laughs, “I’ll have to get used to withstanding her glare, I think, as I plan to make, well, whatever this is, a regular occurrence.” 

Neither of them feels a need to define what they are feeling, or even what comes next. But she smiles when Astarion presses a kiss to her temple, and decides that for now, it hardly matters. They’ll figure it out eventually. 

i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)

First part of the story HERE

Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!

"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"

He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--

"My love, I just need you to--"

"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."

"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"

"My lord?"

Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.

She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.

"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"

Her blood smells of rot and she--

She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.

"I won't!"

Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—

—his soul?

The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--

And suddenly he is in a chair.

Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

"What in the hells—"

His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.

"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"

The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.

"I-- What was that?"

He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.

"No-- No, that cannot be it!"

"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."

He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.

"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"

"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"

"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"

Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.

"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"

"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."

He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.

"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"

She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"

But the woman simply shakes her head.

"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."

His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.

"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."

"And what of what she feels?"

His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.

"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"

"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"

"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."

They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.

"I-- I need to know she will be safe."

Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."

He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."

"Then you may yet see this through."

He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--

"The coin first, boy."

He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.

"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."

"Me too, Little Star."

He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.

"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.

"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.

"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.

"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.

"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.

He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.

Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--

She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--

And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.

"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"

"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.

"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.

"And?"

"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."

"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."

"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"

"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."

"And what do you think?"

"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."

"can i kiss you?" & staring at your lover's lips before a kiss for Astarion?

Heyyy remember how I said I was gonna have to write this tomorrow??? Yeah so I lied

Warnings: alcohol use

Word Count: 462

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Tonight was beautiful. The moon was full, fireflies competed with the stars to see who could shine brighter, and you’d nicked a rich, red wine on your travels that day. What could be better than a little picnic?

“Have I ever told you how you positively glow in the moonlight?”

You smiled around a sip of wine. “Once or twice.”

Astarion smirks, suave and beautiful. The point of a fang peeks out. “Hm, and every time you blush like it’s the first.”

You scowl at him, but it’s far too playful and far too fond for him to take it seriously. He chuckles and takes a drink from his goblet. Your eyes follow the movement, studying the way his lips curl around the rim. You could almost imagine it as blood, especially when he puts the goblet down and licks the liquid from his teeth.

“See something you like?” he teases.

“Of course, I do. I’m looking at you, aren’t I?” you tease right back. It’s difficult to tear your eyes from his mouth as he smiles. His eyes are as deep red as the alcohol, and your mind wanders right back where it began. “I was just wondering… Can I kiss you?”

His eyes brightened. After so long being told what to do and being forced to do things he didn’t want to, being asked was still unusual for him. Each time you asked what he wanted, he got a rush. He smiled, soft and genuine.

“Please.”

You didn’t rush in. You had the whole night to savor being with him - until you got too tired, anyway. You cupped his cheek, cradling him lovingly as he leaned into the soft touch. You indulged in watching his mouth as you dragged his lower lip down slightly with your thumb, and the way it bounced right back into place the moment the pressure was gone. If you’d looked at his eyes, you’d have seen how half-lidded they were, pupils blown with affection.

His eyes followed you as you finally, slowly leaned in. They shut at the first brush of your lips. It was delicate. Barely there. He sighed into your mouth and dove in for more. You welcomed him easily. Your lips danced together effortlessly, reading what was wanted and what would happen next as easily as reading a book.

You kissed him one last time, nipping at his lip when you pulled away. But you didn’t go far. You sat there, forehead pressed to his and eyes closed, as your mind fought to catch up. He felt the warm puff of your breath as you came back to your surroundings.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He shakes his head and kisses the corner of your mouth. His eyelashes brush your cheek. “Thank you.”

---

Tag List:

@cool-ontherun-world

@satelliteapotheosis

@hypopxia

@mhmygd

@flsalazar

I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT gym crush!bakugo

"you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that." a rough, low voice comes from beside you while you hesitantly readjust your weight setting and seat height for the quadrillionth time.

"excuse me?"

"you heard me." you stare at him in disbelief and resist the urge to shrink away from the crimson red eyes glaring down at you.

"if you want the machine, just say so-"

"if i wanted the fucking machine, i would have said that. stop pulling your elbows so far down. they're gonna hit the fucking floor." he sets his water bottle on the floor with an aggressively loud, metallic thud and crouches down next to your weight settings. "and you can handle more than this if you fix your shitty fucking form." your brain spins from the confusing bombardment of insults and advice.

"i can't believe you're mansplaining a machine to me." you didn't typically use machines for arms and upper-body, primarily using weights and saving machines for legs. it was a change, therefore, when one of your gym buddies offhandedly said that you should use upper-body machines more often to maintain an overall toned physique. you decided to try out some of the machines you hadn't used before to see if you liked them, and that brought you to your second point of confusion: him.

"not my fault you stepped out of your lane." the breath evaporated from your lungs when your friend said dynamight was spotted at your gym and you nearly passed out when he ended up attending around the same times as you. to your surprise, there was no awkwardness surrounding his presence. for you, it was just another workout with a little more eye candy to keep you coming back at the same times everyday. with cameras and media strictly confined to the outside edges of the parking lot, you were still able to continue your regular routine of the gym after work. spiky blonde hair and biceps large enough to knock over the eiffel tower were a pretty good incentive for going. if you were consistent enough, he would walk in a few minutes after you started warmups. today was no different, except for the fact that he was now scowling at your selection for the weight. you scoff at his crass language but find it slightly intriguing.

"and how, pray tell, do i fix my shitty fucking form?"

"pull your arms down to create 90 degree angles, like this." he stands abruptly, grabbing the top of the bar and effortlessly pushing it down until your arm was at a right angle. "the reason you're struggling so much is 'cause you're trying to push the shit up when this is a pull exercise." you try it, pulling the bars down until your biceps were level with your shoulders, lips parting in realization when you understand what he means. "there you fuckin' go. see?"

"mhmm," you hum, slightly embarrassed that a pro hero was teaching you how to use equipment in a gym you'd been coming to for years. "thank you."

"yeah, don't mention it," he shrugs an infuriatingly muscular shoulder before amusement crosses over his face. "i know you're a legs person, anyway," he adds, cracking a grin that flashes a sharp tooth. you feel your face heat up more than it did before at his confession that not only was he observing you today, but he was observing you all the time. it gives you an unnatural flare of confidence to look him in the eye while you're still doing reps.

"since when were you observing my workout routine, bakugo?" his eyes briefly flicker to your arms as they flex under the weight he selected for you. you found the machine much easier since he fixed your form and even had the courage to up the weight a little more.

"it's katsuki, and you're the stalker that's always here when i am, sweetheart."

"says the one coming in ten minutes after i get here, sweetheart." you huff out a ragged breath and feel your arms shake slightly from the effort. just a few more reps, you told yourself. show off a little for your gym crush hyperfixation. "if i remember correctly, i was here before you."

"sure, from your perspective."

"what do you-what do you mean?" it's slightly embarrassing how breathless the machine was leaving you, though not as much as your gym crush standing beside you. you blink some of the sweat from your eyes and feel the strength slowly being sapped from your limbs. yeah, you were definitely a legs person.

"i own this place, babe. you never questioned that fuckin' grenade on the wall?" he nods over to the far side of the room where a spray painted green grenade very similar to his gauntlets was plastered on the wall. it was near where you had your first interaction with him, when you were struggling to beat your PR on a squat rack. when you were on the verge of giving up and dragging your pitiful self home, the same gruff voice rang out from the other side of the gym. it told you to just fucking do it, already! and you were so angry at the exclamation that you did, in fact, beat your PR. there you fucking go! about fucking time!

"well," you exhale, done with your last set. "good to know, then." you start to pack up your things, urgent to leave the place and never come back again.

"that's it?" he says to your back as you stand to leave, slightly in disbelief. "you stare at me for god knows how long and then leave when i'm about to make a move?" you freeze in place and can feel his self-satisfied smirk burning into your back. you turn to him, stationing a doubtful hand on your hip.

"make a move, huh? is this how you usually charm people at the gym? with insult-compliment whiplash?"

"only the hot ones," he remarks easily, like he'd been waiting to say that for a long time. "let me buy you dinner? consider it payback for making sure you didn't pull a fuckin' muscle." what an odd feeling. a pro hero asking out a random civilian. a slightly evil idea occurs to you and you narrow your eyes carefully.

"sure," you say innocently and watch the arrogance wash over his face. "but, only if you beat my lying leg press." he makes a face like he didn't even consider it a challenge, a single pfft leaving his lips.

"i could do that in my sleep, sweetheart."

he could not, in fact, do it in his sleep, sweetheart; but, you let him buy you dinner anyway for his effort. later on in your relationship, it was your favorite story to tell about how you first met: watching him sweat and struggle against the weight you piled onto the bar and his determination to finally win over his gym crush.

likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated <3 i hope you enjoyed reading this !!!

POV: you wake up at your lover's side

a/n: set between acts 2 and 3; implied act 2 spoilers.

You wake up in a bed. It wouldn’t be abnormal, you think, apart from the fact that you’ve been camping on the road to Baldur’s Gate for days. You should be upon a bedroll with the stars overhead, not in a bedroom with the sound of a dying fire in one ear and the rhythm of ocean waves in the other.

It isn’t the sounds or sights that you recognize; it’s the feeling. A mystic warmth surrounds you; you’re subconsciously aware that everything you touch is an illusion, and the fact is ever-present in your slowly waking mind.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the caress of a shared daydream. It’s a vision that’s not your own, but you welcome it into your mind anyway. Besides, the hand that rubs your hip, the chest that presses against your back, and the breath on the crown of your head are all quite real.

“You needed this,” Gale murmurs in your ear. “After Ketheric—”

You smile to yourself, refraining from pointing out that Gale, who is blessedly still here, needed this, too. “And what is ‘this,’ exactly?”

He chuckles, and a rustling of sheets signals what’s about to come: Gale now moves like a man who knows he’s no longer on borrowed time. You’re entranced by the way one hand settles beside your head, while one knee swings over your hip. His center of gravity shifts, and he’s up above you, leaning down to lay his lips on your forehead.

“A good morning,” he says with a somber undertone, still used to the weight of his personal burdens. “A moment of quiet.”

Your smile grows. You reach up to cup his face with one hand, fingers grazing over stubble, while your other hand rests lightly on the back of his neck. “Quiet could be had at camp.”

A flash of mischief passes through his eyes, making him look younger and more full of life than you’ve ever seen him.

“Not,” he teases, leaning down again, but stopping before his smiling lips touch yours, “without prying eyes.”

Beautiful things come alive in your heart. Happiness. Anticipation. Romance. A sense of normalcy you haven’t felt since long before the tadpole. Who would have thought that a few grand illusions and several near-death experiences were all it would take to get you there? 

In bed, in the arms of a lover who touches your heart in ways no other ever has.

You lean upward, but you don’t need to move very far to reach him. With just a little tilt of your chin, your lips cover his in a kiss so sweet that your senses resonate like the most sublime of songs. You’re here, wherever here is, and so is he. Your hands touch his skin, and his touch yours. The little sigh he lets out reaches your ears, and you can taste him and all the life that’s reawakened in his soul.

When he pulls away, eyes full of a love that warms the very energy of the illusory room, you whisper, “Thank you.”

One side of his brow quirks up, but his smile hasn’t faded. “I’ll accept your thanks, but they’d be better if I knew what they were for.”

How could you ever answer that? There isn’t enough time to explain how grateful you are that he’s alive, here, with you. That he’s given himself the chance to chase what’s real instead of that which he cannot see.

So, you shake your head and reach to entwine your fingers with his. And then you settle upon thanking him for what he is: “Everything.”