Baldur’s Gate Simp Space

Welcome hoes

[astarion-can-spawn-me]

My Baldur’s Gate 3 Works

Halsin

Work Ethic

Astarion

Archon

Gale

Tenderness Upon the Breeze

[astarion-can-spawn-me]

Tenderness Upon the Breeze

Gale x Blind!Bard!Reader

summary: cute overload shit bitches

List of Works

You know how every epic upon this floating rock ends in the end. It wouldn’t make much sense for such a magnificent epic to end in such a travesty, if you really think of the details. An Elderbrain threatening your very existence upon the earth you cherished and adored. An Elderbrain meticulously planning every single step of every warm or cold blooded creature that even DARED to be in the vicinity. It was an epic that couldn’t even entertain the thought of failure, not for a single second. 

Rejoicing, it always follows the end of a tale, where every protagonist gives one hardy pat on the shoulder before returning to Gods knows where. That is usually when listeners and devourers of books usually stop, now hungrily searching for another story of heroes to indulge.

Gale of course knew exactly what he was going to do, go back to the homely tower in Waterdeep, where he could already feel his books and scrolls beckoning him home, Beckoning him to once again stay curled and hidden within those limestone walls and fine tapestries. His heart absolutely yearned to have those familiar walls back up around him, especially now that the selfish mistake he had made before was now dealt with. Tara would now have a much needed break of being to snuggle up to her tomes by the hearth instead of having to venture far and wide to obtain those magical artifacts that quenched the orb’s thirst for the weave. 

What a selfish person he once was. How the memories always bring his brow into a furrow and a scowl. The bitterness those memories left in his mouth, the knots it left in his stomach. 

Waterdeep almost felt alien to him the minute he came back from his journey, his epic, his life purpose. It did not matter to him of the title, he would leave it for the historians to put a label to it. Waterdeep was so lively, he knew it was always like that, but all those hours, days, and months squandered away in his tower, only a mere weak shadow of the man he was before the moment he let his pride and hunger take over, before he became a walking bomb. Even that tower of his was a sight to behold.

It was exactly the same way he left it, of course Tara trying her best to keep up with the place like the good familiar and companion she was. It just made him feel sickly and melancholic at the sight of those old rooms, not even a soft glow from the fire cured his sorrows. Gale was being haunted by old memories of himself, how pathetically cowardly he was behind  closed doors of his beloved tower. How he would sob away like a poor child yearning for his mother’s comfort. He couldn't do it with those old ghosts taunting him, he couldn’t get a single minute of sleep that first night he had returned home. Tara’s soft purrs couldn’t even lull him to sleep as he could only stare at the moonlit ceiling of his bedroom. 

The wizard prodigy took no time to rise from those sheets once the sun broke past the horizon’s of his adored Waterdeep. 

Change, that’s what he decided on as he got dressed for the day. 

A spring cleaning if you would like to call it such. The windows were beckoned open with a simple flick of his wrist, lulling the warm, balmy air of waterdeep inside, cleansing the air of the heavy memories that lingered and festered on that once old and stale air. Books not being placed back where they should have been and not stacked in their haphazard piles around every single room. Those piles made him feel bitter anyway, all he could see was the old images of himself screaming into those empty rooms as he could never fill the hole within himself, no matter how much he consumed everything he could get his fingers on.

None the matter though, he could feel the very faint feeling of relief ebbing away at the back of his brain as he continued to shoo those memories away as he made his space once again livable. It was his once more again, his to claim, live in, own, be free. 

Though a faint noise caught his attention as his fingers gently caressed his plants that sat cuddle together beneath one of the windows of his tower. Gale almost simply ignored it as he continued to fret over the slightly droopy petals of the flowers that loomed and swayed in their planter amongst that balmy breeze. Noises were no stranger to Waterdeep, not with the bustling city sprawling amongst its little area of the coast. Even with Gale being settled amongst the outskirts of the city, the noise of bustling folk never ceased to float up and into his ears, carried by the breeze from the salty sea. 

The noise was…different perhaps? It was soft and gentle, but it sounded way closer than the towns folk further out into the city. It was close enough for Gale to warrant a  quick glance to the dirt road the winded past his tower and into the outskirts of water deep, traveling out and to the houses and towers that were spread out far and wide from each other amongst the lush green plains. Farms surrounded those quaint homes and a possible brooding wizard in those ancient towers. 

A tender melody floated upon that breeze and a quick sweep of his gaze revealed an individual down below. They were obviously humming away a soft tune on their journey, a soft tune that brought a soft smile to Gale’s lips as he leant upon the stone ledge of the window he was standing at, the sea air whipping around his hair messily. 

“Good morning, saer! Or should I say evening? I dare say time is already eluding me!” he called out merrily to the figure below. They halted lamely in their tracks, almost a delayed reaction to look up to Gale, but a gorgeous smile crawled upon their lips. 

“I would say you have maybe a few more minutes of this fine morning before we must make room for the evening!” You called back up to the man above you. Well you assumed it was a man by the sound of his voice. 

You were just a mere citizen of Faerûn, but now it was your time to shine. You grew up on a farm, with loving parents and loving siblings, but it was almost suffocating in the end. You lost your eyesight at a young age, though you were at a point in life that you couldn’t scoop up a single memory of what the world truly looked like around you, those memories were only shadows in your imagination. It was depressing, but your family tried to help the best they could, but it only made that helplessness fester within you when you always had to have someone else's hand in your own, always having to have someone else’s voice speak up for you. Childhood was spent hovering over notches in your brailed books, or your fingers softly plucking away at a lute. 

You became a very talented musician as you got older, you thought you were good, but you also told yourself that because deep down within the folds of your brain, you thought that those admirers and fans only pitied you because of the state of you pale and sightless eyes. 

That led to being in Waterdeep, you were given the chance to move out here, to finally be on your own, to finally just rely on yourself. It was rich in culture, it was rich with the weave. It allowed you to meditate, to write music, poetry, the emotions that always came and went in that empathic heart of yours. Waterdeep was a very successful little place to live this past six months for you.

“I do have to admit, I thought this place was abandoned” you admitted with a laugh as you hands clutched on the stick that was aiding you on your little walk down that dirt road. “I apologize for being a lousy neighbor and never introducing myself!” 

“Oh no worries, I was on a little business trip these past months, so I think that makes me the lousy neighbor” Gale joked back as he tucked a rogue strand of hair that threatened to land in his eye. “ I actually only just got back last night, definitely greetings are in order, give me a second to come down there” his voice called excitedly down, his feat already scrambling down the cold stone deeps down the few flights down to his front door from the floor he was standing on. Feet taking him across his front yard of slightly overgrown grass and weeds that still clutched on the very slight remnants of dew from the early morning. It was then that he noticed those pale and milky white eyes of yours. He tried not to be shocked despite the fact he assumed you really couldn’t see him. 

“Gale Dekarios, I would say of Waterdeep, but these six months [1] have proven to make me a stranger once again to this place” Gale spoke out as he softly took your hand to give it a gentle squeeze which you reciprocated, even jokingly giving a maybe slightly wobbly curtsy with a giggle as you introduced yourself to the wizard. 

“Very pleased to finally meet you, Gale Dekarious, not acquainted with Waterdeep” you teased. 

You always had a tenderness floating about you. An intimacy like no other. Gale could have simply been outside trying to revive his herb garden and that tenderness upon that seabreeze would poke and proud at his senses to make his gaze search for you or let his ears try to hear whatever tune you were trying to shape with that sweet voice of yours or tried to piece together the honeyed words of whatever poem or script you were trying to piece together or simply reciting to that tender weave that surrounded you. Whatever it was, it always led Gale to meet you at his front gate, a window that was nearest to him, the front door. Hell he would even lean over the ledge of the very tip of his tower if he had to. You were quick with your slightly clumsy steps, already those steps forming their small little trails. A few notable ones stood prominent upon the grass of his front yard, one that lead to the first reachable window where if he called from their, you would lean up and listen to his excited words over what adventure he taken upon that day, all mundane adventures however, definitely not an Elderbrain. Another one led to his little overgrown garden of herbs and certain alchemical ingredients. You spent many of hours underneath the warm sun reciting a poem or a song for a client and asking for the wizards opinion on your lyrics and versus as he prodded away at his plants, soul always soothed by your bardic grace as he did those meticulous tasks in his humble garden. And two trails were starting to lead to his front door. One was designated to you and one to him by the countless times he has lead you through the front door of his tower when he invited you in for tea, brunch, lunch, dinner, whichever time you had stumbled upon him on your sporadic walks in front of his tower that slowly started to become Waterdeep’s old friend once more. You have even become acquainted with Tara, his resident Tressym, you were extremely careful to not refer to Tara as ‘Gale’s’ as he was so particular about it. Gale was also the one to accompany you when it came to the bustling areas of Waterdeep, spending days when life allowed you and Gale to find the most obscure and hidden places of beloved Waterdeep. 

How the time would just meld all together as it went on in your presence. Gale specifically thrived on those late evenings spent with you within the confines of his cozy library. It was so intimate to him. He always found himself lounging upon the grande carpet in front of the fire, you sat upon his slightly worn couch, playing sweet and somber tunes on your lute. That or you would ramble on in deep conversations that lead to endless routes where your thoughts could run to. Gale would take those moments to admire your face as you stared ahead, voice a sweet lullaby as you spoke, always loving how the soft hues of the fire danced upon your face. 

Sometimes the two of you would sit in silence in the warmth of the flames of the hearth, meditate and focus on the weave, Gale always there to help lead your hands in intricate movements together, the weave to lace and pulse through your caressed hands.Those were your favorite moments. You could just sense every essence of his being during those moments. It was those moments where you felt like you could see him the most. You still couldn’t exactly see him, but the weave that would pulse between you just almost felt like he was just bare before you and possibly the same for you being bare before him in the weave. Racing hearts and all. 

“Give me your hands…” Gale spoke out gently, it was one of those late nights again, Tara purring away off to the side on her much deserved pile of warm pillows and you gentle and soft before him. You obeyed as your calloused rested upon his familiar fingertips. His were calloused too, a scar here and there that you could faintly trace out with your fingertips, the touch always springing the memories of him giving the stories behind those brave wounds.

The minute your hands touched you could feel the shift in the weave as he started to mumble the invocation, your hands in his, the weave once again bouncing with so much powerful energy between the both of you. 

You had to squint your eyes, the weave coming to a steady hum between the two of you. Something was flickering in your eyes, is that what flickering was? You could see something before you, your brain just couldn’t piece it together. 

“That’s you” Gale said with a gentle rumble of a chuckle, “I may have been studying an invocation that allows you to use my eyesight. Now it's not permanent, of course, but I thought you would have been curious about my interior decorating” You couldn’t help but snort, cringing as you saw the image of yourself snorting before you. Leave it to Gale to be so selfless. How far he has come on his journey of evolution. 

“Oh goodness, I look like that?” you said with another sort, careful reaching your hands to Gale’s face, caressing his cheeks you slowly moved his head around to move his eyes to look at different parts of his cozy library. Some reason, the environment didn’t come as a shock to your lack of sight. It just seemed to all fit your expectations, even if you honestly didn’t have any. 

“Come my dear, let’s go on a little stroll” he spoke softly, helping you up and offering you his arm. You caught the sight of his casual robes he wore. The colors vibrant under the hues of the fire and of the moon that pierced through the windows. He leads you through his tower, showing off the many artifacts he has mentioned over the months of knowing each other, the portraits of his friends, showing off the few remnants he had of his youth. He flipped through old thesis and writings of his prodigy youth and you got to see through his eyes. 

“Wait a minute…” you muttered out as you stopped him in his tracks, something in his eyes caught your attention as you gently reached a hand up to grab his chin to guide his eyes to look at what stopped you. Two figures you saw on the wall, moving with your movements, you really couldn’t see it too well in the dimness of the hallway the two of you slowly walked through. As the two of you got closer you realized it was a reflection of the two of you.

“And that is me, I hope I’m not too horrible to look at” The grin upon his face sent your heart skipping as he guided his face closer to the mirror, guiding your hands to touch his chin, allowing you to move his face in different angles, allowing your fingertips to trace over the hair of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, the shape of his lips wear his facial hair gentle scratched the tips of your fingers. “This is me, Gale Dekarios…” His voice carried out as a whisper, a voice too scared to speak too loudly to not startle this delicate moment away in this wholesome tower of Waterdeep. 

“Gale Dekarios, I would assume you are what people would call handsome…” You spoke out as you watched yourself creep closer to his side, not able to clearly see your face and his face in the mirror, his hand now cupping your cheeks gently. 

Maybe it was your tender hearts running miles a minute that started to mess with the invocation since the images before you faded away like many of those sweet memories you once had in your mind. Gale had your hands back in his again as he guided you, your hands resting upon his body, the heat radiating through his robes and onto your hands. His hands cupped your cheeks as he guided your head closer to his.

His lips were upon yours in a sweet kiss, gentle and soft. You let your body melt into his embrace as his arms supported you as he kissed you deeply underneath the silvery moon that threatened to disappear as the first rays of morning began to make their way beyond the horizon once more. 

You broke away from a breath, hands clumsy as they buried themselves within his hair, an airy laugh escaping your wet lips as you embraced each other. Perfect harmony. Your tenderness engulfed his entire being, which he accepted with open arms.

Gale had to say, he was happy with how his little epic ended. A soft gentle ending to this chapter of his life, but with you there now by his side, he could feel the blossoming of the next chapter already begin to flourish between the two of you as he pulled away from you. 

“Come my love, the sun is breaking past the horizon and we still haven’t slept” Gale spoke out as he began to lead you through those hallways.

“Like that has ever stopped us…..”

[nellyofthevalley]

wedding dress

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit content: wedding night, marriage/domestic living, sad and sweet, stupidly soft tailor astarion, smut but it's not the focus (cunnilingus, fingering, piv), death. summary: astarion makes tav's wedding dress and looks back on their life together. i don't want to say too much, just read it :)

Hand-making a wedding dress was hard work, but he loved it. He would lose himself in it and insisted that he be the one to craft it because he couldn’t trust anyone else with the task. No other dress could do his love’s beauty justice, but he’d spent years perfecting the arts of tailoring and studying her—he knew better than anyone what was worthy of being draped on her body.

based on this post by @spacebarbarianweird! i hope i did the concept justice. it was a joy and a challenge to write.

i really hated writing the vows lmao don't laugh

read it on ao3 or below the cut

i'll be here

Astarion spent months and months in his study sewing away at the white fabric. All day, all night; the hours passed without notice. Not until Tav would softly knock and enter and put her arms around his neck and shoulders and ask him to retire to their room with a heavy yawn, taking care to avert her eyes from his project.

Hand-making a wedding dress was hard work, but he loved it. He would lose himself in it and insisted that he must be the one to craft it because he couldn’t trust anyone else with the task. No other dress could do his love’s beauty justice, but he’d spent years perfecting the arts of tailoring and studying her—he knew better than anyone what was worthy of being draped on her body.

“Come to bed, love,” she’d say, and he thinks of it often. He remembers exactly how she said it; he remembers her tone, her voice, the way she’d kiss his ear and down his neck to entice him on the nights he was particularly engrossed in his work.

He remembers one evening he’d been in his study since the minute they woke and shared ‘good morning’s, so close to finishing the skirt; she entered quietly and startled him, trailing her hands from his neck down the front of his shirt, begging for him to come to bed with a whispered ‘please’ that he couldn’t say no to.

He finished the line of stitching he was on and set the dress aside, turning his head to look at her and steal a kiss from her plush lips, just as eager to kiss her as he was in the beginnings of their relationship. The passion and desire never faded in the slightest, not after so many decades, and not even when they fought and yelled and cried.

Astarion kissed her over and over again with haste, cupping her cheek; he could hear the blood course through her body and feel the warmth rush to her face, a lovely, irresistible display of her own desire. He rose to his feet and picked her up, her legs draped over his arm and hers around his neck as he carried her to their bedroom.

“Darling, you’ve interrupted my very important work,” he said as he laid her down to the bed and crawled on top of her, trapping her under his weight. “I have a deadline to meet, you know.”

It was only a few weeks until their wedding night. The whole thing was a formality really, they’d been living as if they were married for years—rings and all, but Tav insisted on it. She dreamt of walking down the aisle as a little girl, she said, and Astarion relented despite his protests. But after a few weeks, after he’d started working on the dress, he was just as hellbent on it as she was.

“You’ve been working so hard,” she replied, fingers impatiently tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“For you,” he reminded her. “But now, I’ve lost my focus.”

She managed to unbutton half his shirt before he bent forward to press his mouth to her neck, giving her tender kisses down to her collarbone. He lifted her nightdress, pulling it over her arms and head and continued kissing down her front, slow and damn near torturous, relishing in how her heart raced for him; true power, he thought, was the power to make her plead for more.

“My sweet love,” he purred, finally tugging at the sides of her underwear and guiding them over her legs. “I’m afraid I can’t return to my work until I’ve tasted all of you.”

Never had Astarion felt more alive than on their wedding night.

A very quaint, private affair in the woods with the friends that could make it: Shadowheart, Wyll, Halsin, and a few friends they’d made in the city attended. Gale, honored by Tav’s request, officiated and he’d never seen Astarion looking so… elated, and so regal; the nobility in him blossoming in his white and gold attire, a fine suit and eccentric jabot. Astarion certainly softened during their journey, but here, he was far more than that: he bore a beaming smile that not even a God could wipe from his face and when Tav finally came out with her dress, the dress that he worked on days and nights for months, he watched her, thoroughly enraptured by her, as if the world around them had simply dissipated.

“Beautiful,” he whispered as she approached.

All he saw was her. Gale, the guests, the arch blanketed in flowers and strands of magicked lights were little more than a blur in his peripherals. Astarion lifted a hand to her face and delicately ran his fingertips across her cheek—the touch of her warm glow never lost its appeal—and brushed her lips with his in a modest, affectionate kiss.

“Usually, we save that for the end,” Gale joked.

“No chance in the Hells I’m waiting that long,” Astarion retorted, blithely aware the ordeal would last a mere few minutes. “And where did you find such a perfect, magnificent, finely crafted dress, love?”

It was his best work, and he was sure he’d never set his eyes on anything sweeter than her wearing it.

The bodice top of the dress hugged her waist exquisitely and donned a sweetheart neckline covered in detailed floral embroidery. The skirt was long and composed of layers of netted fabric with more scattered, intricately sewn flowers; it had an almost ethereal, softened look about it as it flowed when she walked. He’d spent weeks alone searching for the finest material with a cost difficult to swallow, but worth every last coin.

She was the embodiment of grace and elegance in it—like royalty, a beauty beyond the imagination.

How they gazed at one another while Gale officiated went unnoticed by not a single person; the vibrancy of their love and devotion radiated off from them as it breathed life into the air, and captivated every guest—every friend.

Astarion hadn’t cried since he killed his master, but a tear gathered at the edge of his eyes as he recited his vows.

You’ve given me something to care for. I choose you. I give you my hand, my love, my soul, and with you, I live again. I’ll always be here, my love.

Tav didn’t share his same composure, she couldn’t stop crying; she wept as she made hers, and through every word, he held her face gently in his palms and wiped them away.

Where you go, I’ll go. Where you stay, I’ll stay.  I give you all my love, my passion, my heart; it beats for you, belongs to you, for eternity.

“Careful not to let your makeup run onto that dress, dear,” he smirked. 

She managed to hold her tears as they exchanged rings—old but new; not the ones they’d been wearing for years as she expected to see, but ones Astarion had saved ever since they found them in the shadow-cursed lands. Tav extended her fingers and looked at hers, a cute little cute little alexandrite gem on a simple golden band.

There was something enticingly dangerous and bittersweet about them with their magical warding bond and tragic tale of the couple who once possessed them.

Astarion insisted she wear the ring of embrace, reminding her of his enhanced healing abilities since being freed of the tadpole and arguing, “My life has flourished with you, now let me protect you with it.”

“You may kiss the bride,” announced Gale, taking a deep breath before continuing, “again.”

Astarion reeled her in with one arm behind her waist and his free palm took one of hers, intertwining their fingers; he brushed his lips against hers, remarkably subdued as he taunted her with a little peck and gentle nip on her bottom lip before sweeping her into a deeper, heated kiss.

When he pulled away and lowered the hand on her back, she heard a sniffle coming from Gale.

“Are you… crying?” Tav asked with a laugh, still resisting her own cry, but when Astarion was the one to walk up to Gale and wipe his tears away, she couldn’t keep from weeping any longer.

They rented a lavish room in the Upper City and joked about becoming part of the snobbish high society for a night on the walk there, drunk on their new life, her new name. It must’ve only been two seconds they were in their room before Astarion swept her into his embrace, taking her by the waist and gently pushing her to the closed door.

“Astarion, wait,” Tav said, giggling as he removed the space between them and pressed his body flush against hers. 

“Darling, I’ve been so patient already,” he argued, his hands meticulously removing the ties and pins keeping her hair perfectly in place. “I’ve been waiting ever since I set my eyes on you in this dress.”

She turned her head and tried to shy away as Astarion kissed the tip of her nose, her cheek, and beside her ear; he continued, “It’s been utterly distracting.”

His cold kisses spread goose flesh through her arms and raised all the tiny hairs at the back of her neck. No matter how many times it’d been, he could always incite her fierce need for him, crumbling her into dust with his carefully crafted words and sweet touch…

“Don’t you know how hard it was for me to focus on reciting my vows for you, when all I could think of was tearing the dress from your body and making you cry for me?”

Astarion knelt and lifted the front of her dress, draping it over his back and disappearing beneath. He hummed with satisfaction in the way Tav’s breath caught when he slipped his fingers under her underwear and kissed her over the dampening fabric. 

“Seems it was hard for you too, wasn’t it?” he teased as he slid the garment down her legs. 

“Oh, shut—ah.”

She wished she could see him—his face on her cunt, wearing that devilish look he had when she glanced down at him, every time, well trained in picking up on every small thing that made her weak between the thighs—but he loved to toy with her and slapped her hands away when she tried to raise her dress with a tsk.

Tav‘s palms tightened against the wall and her legs quivered while Astarion lapped at her cunt like it was every bit as delectable as her blood. He worshiped her with his tongue, tasting every part of her he could reach—and when she started to truly unravel, legs shaking and weak and her mouth unable to keep its quiet, he gripped her hips firmly and swept the very tip of his tongue across her clit. 

“Astarion, I’ll—”

Ah, her protests only encouraged him. Two fingers slowly pushed into her cunt, coated in her fluids; she pawed at the wall like she was trying to rip through it as Astarion licked and sucked and curved his fingers inward. His pace hurried, curling and nudging her inside between thrusts until at last, she threw her head back and cried his name, a sound that paralleled no other, a sound he’d remember for the rest of his life, even thousands of years from now if he survived that long; no one said his name like her, and she said it best when he was on his knees. 

He withdrew his fingers as she clenched and writhed around him, but he refused to waver and set her free, absolutely not, liking to push her and drown himself loving her until she nearly went rabid trying to get him off. He kept his hands firm on her hips, lapping up every last fucking drop of her come and circling her clit until—

“Gods, Astarion, please!”

She hastily lifted her dress and dug her hands and nails into his hair and scalp, clawing at him and pulling him away. 

Astarion just stared at her with a smirk and her come shining all over his face, thoroughly pleased. She was panting, recovering, and she looked like a mess with her hair tousled and her face red and sweaty and it was fucking beautiful. 

“You, my love, my wife,” he started to speak, kindly kissing her thighs before he rose to his feet again, “are divine.”

Before Tav could respond, he cupped her face in both hands and pushed his lips to hers, sharing with her a little taste of the divinity she’d granted him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he broke the kiss, seizing the opportunity to tuck a limb under her knees and pick her up, into his arms.

Astarion carried her to the bed, laying her down carefully and climbing on top of her; she looked so lovely, so perfectly messy with her hair sprawled across the pillow after looking so pristine in its updo. She reached up to remove his jabot as he shrugged off the jacket and quickly worked at the buttons of his shirt, tossing it aside in a hurry; tasting her wasn’t enough, he had to have more, needed to love her in every way he could—it was their wedding night!

He could hardly believe that this day had come at last, that he was married, after centuries of serving his master and being taught how unworthy he was of any sort of kindness, let alone love, something he’d long lost belief in…

The wedding had been her idea from the start, but over time she started to think, though she’d never vocalize it, that he wanted it more than she ever had. It showed, in his excitement when they looked for places to host it, in the countless hours he spent perfecting her dress—he tailored his own attire as well of course, and it came out wonderfully, but he seemed to get through it far sooner and paid more attention to the dress, not a single stitch out of place.

Tav sat up and reached behind her to undo the clasps at the back of the dress, but Astarion grabbed the sides and pulled violently, ripping it at the back and guiding it down, down her stomach and legs and sending it to the floor with his shirt.

“Have you lost your mind? I love that dress! And you spent so much time on it!”

“Darling, every minute I spent working on that dress, I thought of how you’d look on it on this day and how much I’d love tearing it from your body. It suited you perfectly, my love,” he replied, lifting her leg over his shoulder. He showered her with featherlight pecks at her ankle, and continued down, ending with a bruising kiss on her inner thigh that made her squirm. “I could’ve died the moment I saw you in it and lived a happy, satisfied life—it served its purpose, I promise you.”

A few months into their life as newlyweds, after a couple nights tucked away in his study working on another project, Astarion found Tav brushing her hair at the vanity and set a neatly wrapped pink-and-white gift box in front of her.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“Just open it dear, you’ll see.”

He sat behind her on the stool, legs around hers and pressing his body to her back. As she tugged at the ribbon and unwrapped the box, he wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head into her shoulder, looking ahead to the mirror and attentively watching for her reaction. Tav opened it to find a nightgown, white with familiar embroidery around the edges, short and tight around the waist.

“Is this my wedding dress?”

“Of course it is.”

“You kept it all this time?”

Astarion saw her eyes light up as she held it and turned it over in her hands, admiring how perfectly he’d recreated every thread—the gown looked brand new, as if he’d gotten all new fabric and thread or spent a fortune at a luxury attire shop in the Upper City.

“Much as I enjoyed ripping it apart to unwrap you, I did put a lot of work into it,” he said.

“It’s beautiful, Astarion, just like the first time I saw it.”

Tav sounded like she had to hold back tears just from seeing it, like she’d expected it to be lost forever; he found delight in her surprise, as if he’d gotten away with a crime with how she somehow never noticed or suspected what he was working on in his study.

“Get changed,” he ordered quietly, lips to her ear. “I’ll tear it off you again and again, starting with tonight.”

His hands lingered on her body as she stood and stepped aside, then his gaze remained set on her as she undressed and pulled the gown over her head. He studied how it draped over her breasts and hugged her waist and fuck, he didn’t want to wait another fucking moment; he reached out and pulled her right back, into his lap and into hungry kisses on her neck.

“Astarion,” she murmured, already succumbing to his touch, “you didn’t even allow me a minute to see myself in it…”

“One minute then, love,” he said, and he meant it—one minute.

He lifted her by the waist, standing and pushing her forward until her palms rested on the vanity and she could see her reflection, unseen fingers raising the gown’s hem at her thighs. Tav rotated what little she could in his grasp, carefully pulling at it and observing how well it complemented her figure.

Astarion ran his hands softly along the sides of her hips, her waist, then leaned forward, pressing his hardening length to her backside. In the mirror, he saw how her face flushed, how the thin fabric appeared to magically rise from her body from his hand cupping her breast, how her head tilted back to where his would be as his other clenched around her throat.

“Look at you, I’ve hardly even touched you yet,” he teased, her swallow budging against his grip.

“I thought about this all day,” she choked out, an alluring confession that made it difficult for him to keep what little patience he had left.

“Did you?”

His hand to her neck loosened and let her free as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, his feet shuffling and then deftly slipping off his shoes and socks, too. Every sound and every movement, the rustling of fabric and his cock pushing into her all taunted her as arousal grew from within and yearned for what she’d been fantasizing of, now barely out of reach—

“I was waiting for you,” she said quietly, pushing her ass back into him, desperate to feel all his cock against her skin, bare, frustrated at the paltry pieces of fabric still separating them. “For you to be done in your study.”

“Did you see me between your legs?” Astarion whispered, nipping at her ear. “Or did you think of us like this—me bending you over this vanity, fucking you so well that you can’t walk tomorrow?”

Gods, she couldn’t fucking take it anymore, how he dragged it out until she could think of nothing else—then, he lowered the straps and kissed her from shoulder to shoulder before grabbing at the neckline and pulling, throwing the gown down to her feet in one violent motion; a demand, a fervent need to have her. 

“Astarion! Be kinder to it this time,” she warned, but her threats carried little weight as he knew he held her in his hand, wound tightly around his slender fingers for him to contort.

“Absolutely not,” he argued. “My dear, you forget I’ve mastered this craft. I’ll fix it right up, every time.” 

Tav whimpered, grieving the presence of his cock when he stepped back and began unfastening his pants. She turned to face him, guiding him backwards until he met the bed and sat, her following and hovering over him, easing him further back. She finished undressing him, fingers dipping under the waistband of his pants and underwear and sliding them over each limb before crawling forward and taking her seat in his lap.

“Good,” Astarion said as Tav ground her hips against his and slid her cunt along his aching cock, drowning it in the slick dripping between her thighs, and drawing a low growl from his mouth amid his words. “I want to see your face.”

Her palms on his shoulders tensed, nails prodding at his skin and threatening to break it as she adjusted, aligning her body with his and, in disciplined motions made to boil his blood with the rising heat of his impatience, taking in only the head of his cock. The tension among them almost caught flame—each provoking the other until someone broke.

Astarion slid his arms behind her back and covered her mouth with his in a ravenous, needy kiss, tongue laving over the outline of her upper lip—and when she finally lowered and sat, impaling herself on his terribly hard cock that throbbed for her attention, he groaned and bit at her lip just enough to draw blood and coax a hushed yelp from her throat.

“Ah, you—”

“I know,” he acknowledged, tongue swiping across her bloodied lip. “Mm. Saccharine, sweet like honey. Move, my love, let me watch your pretty face come undone for me.”

He kept his arms on her back, tenderly running up and down with a soothing touch that encouraged her as she gathered her strength and rose, hitting a steady rhythm; he kissed her lips, her cheek, the edges of her jaw, anywhere he could—little marks of encouragement, physical expressions of his love, how well she was doing, how good she was for him.

Tav’s thighs tensed as she fucked herself on him, bouncing on his cock with all she had to give while he watched it disappear inside her, transfixed by the sight. He kissed along her collarbone, down her breast, fangs grazing her supple skin. She gasped and braced herself for his bite, but it never came; he garnished her with harsher kisses, promises of bruises in the morning—little blemishes that marked her as his.

He was wholly enveloped by her, body and mind; her tight, wet heat consuming his cock, the view of her parted mouth and half-shut eyes even more ambrosian than he imagined, and he needed more of it, more of her—Gods, just holding back  slightly and allowing her control was testing his limits, he wanted to take her and fucking ruin her.

When her movements slowed and breaths strained, stamina running dry, Astarion trailed his fingers down with a feathery touch down her back, along the curve of her ass, then settled on her hips. His languid movements that of admiration, like she admired the dress—the little dimples in her back, her hip bones poking out, a scar she’d earned from battle that he vividly remembers tending to.

“Give me all of you,” he said, holding tightly and guiding her up to hover at the tip of his cock, eager and beyond pleased to take the lead and fuck her until she couldn’t walk as he vowed earlier. “Your body, your mind—all mine.”

“Astarion, please…”

“Please,” he started, a moan escaping as he harshly brought her body down to his, the slap of her ass on his thighs ringing through his ears, “what, love? Use your words.”

But she threw her head and voiced filthy cries for him instead, incapable of using her words, reduced to a sweaty, whimpering mess from what he was giving her—just his hands on her hips wasn’t enough; he bent his knees for leverage and pushed into her with rough, starving thrusts chasing release. The heavy pants mixed with lascivious moans pouring from her mouth and the scent of their sex and sweat in the air antagonized him, made him thrust into her harder until he couldn’t go any faster or deeper and—

“Don’t—don’t stop,” Tav whined, wet walls of her cunt devouring his cock as she neared the precipice and pulled at his hair and finished, “please, take me, come with me.”

Astarion sank his teeth deep into her neck the instant she said it and drank—she yanked hard on his hair and dug into his skin, her other hand scratching desperately at his back. He was close, so fucking close, he could feel it in her too as her cunt swallowed his cock and he could almost taste it in them both, sucking at her wounds and drawing out more and more blood, rich and thick and rushing past his tongue, then hot and sweet down his famished, dry throat.

He had to force himself to pull away from her neck, exhaling heavily, mourning it; he thrusted up into her once, twice before he broke, release rippling through him—overwhelming every sense, wringing him tight as he held her hips to him and filled her past the brim with come. Tav took his face and tilted upward, smothering him with messy, feral kisses as she came, too, her body writhing over his and constricting around his cock, drawing out all he had until it overflowed and seeped from her slit, dampening the bed below.

“Shit,” she cursed, pushing Astarion—weak and light-headed, as if all the blood he’d taken had simply evaporated—back to the bed and lying on top of him, his spend trickling down her thighs as they uncoupled.

Pale arms wrapped around her and he ran his fingers through her hair with delicate, adoring strokes, kissing the tip of her nose.

As promised, he mended her nightgown the very next day.

After years of blissful domestic living, the pair packed light and set off to travel; see new sights, adventure, reminisce on the journey that brought them together in the first place. The intent was to spend a few years on the road, but outside of the rare trips back home for a short stay, they traveled for decades, caught up in beautiful scenery, mercenary work, and the hope that they might find a cure for the sun or Astarion’s vampirism altogether. 

On one visit home, Tav saw herself in the mirror and decided to stay longer than their typical few days or week long breaks. Surrounded by their things and memories of their younger years, her reflection was a harsh confrontation with the reality of her own mortality.

“I miss home,” she said. “And I love seeing the world with you, I do, but I want to stay here for a while.”

Astarion agreed, and they decided to spend a few years in their home in the city before heading back on the road for a final trip. He returned to tailoring in the evenings and she picked up new hobbies: painting, sketching, gardening, whatever she could get her antsy hands on.

A few years turned into more years and then another decade, and Tav no longer craved adventure again, so they remained at home, back to blissful domestic living. Astarion and Tav both missed the thrills and the pretty views many people would never have the chance to behold, but that time had passed.

“I’m too old for that now,” she said.

She grew vegetables and fruit to cook and bake with and took pride in it, and Astarion wished he could sit with her at the table with a full plate of her handmade food in front of him, too. He started cooking more, asking for her help and seizing these small moments of time together that he’d lose one day.

Tav started to leave the house less and spent more time sitting in the living room sketching, or tucked away in a little corner of Astarion’s study she’d made her own with an easel and paints. She drew and painted his face so many times over that he stopped looking in mirrors hoping that would be the time he finally saw his face; he saw it already, and he saw it through her eyes—he couldn’t ask for more.

Mirrors aren’t much use, but being reflected in someone else’s eyes? Well, I could do worse.

No matter how hard he tried, Astarion couldn’t escape the truth of her mortality. He constantly attempted to push the signs, the symptoms away, and convinced himself they’d find a way.

It was easy to brush off, at first. They started following a more humanlike schedule, awake during the day and asleep during the night. He found himself surprisingly accepting of house confinement; by then, the idea of outings were long forgone—the decades they spent out were enough to satiate his own wanderlust, though if Tav were capable and interested in traveling again, he would’ve done it in an instant.

He would’ve done anything she wanted, without question.

At nights, she made herself tea before bed to help her sleep.  When she started to retire to their room early without tea, citing exhaustion too fierce to want to stand at the stove beside the kettle for so long, Astarion started making it for her.

And he knew something was very, very wrong.

“Love, you’ve been in that bath for hours, I swear,” he said on one rainy evening after returning home and finding her right where he’d left her.

The dark clouds and early sunset permitted him safety beyond the curtains, and he took advantage, walking a few streets over to pick up a hot meal from her favorite restaurant. Tav turned over in the bath to look at him in the doorway; she smiled and lifted her hands from the water, observing her wrinkly, pruned fingers and giggling. 

“I was feeling a bit sore, is all,” she answered. “Don’t you want to get in with me?”

He knelt beside the tub and folded his arms over the rim, meeting her eyes and taking in the sight of her. Tired eyes, tired body, an expression that tried to look happy but something was so clearly missing from it.

“I’m soaked enough from the rain, dear,” he answered. “I brought you dinner, so let’s get you up and dressed, alright? I can bring it to you in bed.”

Astarion helped her out, dressed her and led her to their bed and she looked at him with melancholic eyes that he had to pretend didn’t rend at his heart and soul. After that night, he spent every night helping her with her bath, cooking her dinner (on occasion, picking up dinner from her favorite place again), making her tea, and delivering it all to her in bed on a tray. 

He waited on her hand and foot, in every way he knew how. Tav hated asking for help, always trying to do things on her own, and Astarion had to learn how to offer his aid without troubling her—observe silently and learn what she struggled with or what could grant her another stretch of relaxation.

What hurt most was how much she wanted to spend time in the garden on the sunniest days and he felt useless, unable to help. He took her out when possible, when the clouds covered the sun or sunset started and he could don a heavy, dark cloak, but he was never able to take her out on the brightest, happiest days. As an unspoken rule, Tav never went outside when he couldn’t, at least not farther than a few steps—the few that he could take, if need be.

As her condition worsened, Astarion looked for doctors, healers, anyone; he sought out Halsin and Shadowheart and wrote to Gale all for naught. Nothing helped, and she started to fight him on it.

“Please just stay home,” she requested one time, when he’d come to see her in the study with her journal, telling her he’d found yet another healer only a few days travel away that might be able to help. “I’m done with this. I’ve accepted it, and you should, too.”

Accept this? It was awful enough to accept that she wouldn’t live in immortality with him—but to accept that she’d be gone even earlier than he ever anticipated?

The first time Tav stayed in bed a full day was the most harrowing experience of them all. She hadn’t budged; the fatigue piled on more and more each passing day and those feelings of self-loathing and worthlessness bubbled up until she couldn’t feign the happiness anymore and felt like nothing more than a massive, life-sucking burden.

  Astarion came to their room with her nightly tea and when she heard him walk in, she yelled at him to stay out.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she said.

“Don’t say that. Please,” he begged. “I can’t miss a single moment with you.”

He stayed home at her request; he stopped seeking out help and any hope of a cure, and the tradeoff for that was spending every possible fucking second beside her whether she liked it or not.

Tav said nothing, but her face said enough; she refused to look at him, lips quivering and eyes fluttering holding back tears, and it only made it hurt all the more how she despised him seeing her tired and weak.

Astarion knew this day would come, of course he did, but he didn’t expect it to happen so fast. It all happened so fast! They spent decades on the road and even through all the trials and discomforts of mercenary work and harsh nights sleeping in the cold in forests and fields, wherever they could find, she didn’t seem to age a day.

After they returned home for that short stay that turned into an indefinite stay, the years started to feel like days. He didn’t have to look in a mirror to see and feel how he’d not aged—he felt just as young and spry as he did when they met, but every single fucking day, he looked at her and saw how the time wore on her. She was still beautiful, perfect to him, but he saw the light slowly fade from her and it hurt.

Tav resented that it was her choice to come and remain at home. The shame ate at her, constantly creeping on the edge of her mind, telling her that it was her fault they were trapped here in this little house in the city, that maybe if they’d not come back things would be different, or they could have settled somewhere else, somewhere new, or perhaps, if nothing else, she could’ve died more valiantly.

Astarion laid down with her despite her protests, cradling her and brushing off the tears she finally cried until she had none left to cry, and he thought about how she wept as she read her vows on their wedding night.

“I love you,” he swore. “Now and forever.”

with you,

The little house in the city was always their home, even during the decades they spent abroad adventuring, but after she was gone, he couldn’t stand to live in it anymore. He wouldn’t sell it, either; he couldn’t imagine never again having the option to walk in and envision her cooking in the kitchen or painting in her corner of the study. He simply abandoned it and decided to travel the lands once more, alone. 

He went to places they’d already been, remembering things they’d done at each stop—the days they spent huddled in inns or camp, the nights out exploring or heading to their next destination, the battles that almost incited a strange nostalgia for their tadpoled days. Tav adapted to life in the darkness; they still did what they could during the daytime, though options were limited. A cloak worked once sunset was near, but still too dangerous midday. They searched far and wide for remedies, temporary or permanent, and nothing proved fruitful. Even Gale researched when he could. 

Astarion visited him first at his tower in Waterdeep.

Seeing him was a sharp punch in the gut. Of course Tav had aged, but it was gradual, it happened so slowly and yet so quickly; her sickness was the true brutal awakening. But Gale—he hadn’t seen Gale in decades and it was almost a shock, even though he knew better, to see the wizard so… old, so wrinkled.

“Gods, you’ve seen better days,” he said.

“And you’re still seeing your best ones,” Gale replied, but he had it wrong.

Astarion was seeing his worst days, and he questioned whether it was the right time to leave, whether he should’ve stayed behind and waited in their home until he’d worked through it all. But he wasn’t sure when that would be, and he couldn’t tolerate living there anymore with her things on the wall, on the shelves, in their room, all constant little reminders of how he’d never see her again.

It was an endless torment that trailed close behind him on his travels, because as much as Astarion hated seeing all these pieces of her, he didn’t want to let go, either. He left behind much of his own stuff, but carried around that nightgown he’d sewn from her wedding dress.

Gale kept him for a couple weeks until he was ready to move on. It was nice to see a familiar face. That first night, they sat at the table and reminisced of old times for hours and the sweet outweighed the bitter.

Gale didn’t ask about Tav, not until Astarion mentioned her. Perhaps he already knew.

“I buried her,” Astarion said unprompted. “A few weeks ago.”

“She was good for you.”

“Too good, in fact. I never deserved—”

“Stop right there,” Gale interrupted, raising his palm. “She loved you more than anything.”

There was a long pause, a heavy silence in the air as Astarion carefully considered what to say next, as images of their life together ran through his mind like a slideshow. Gods, would he ever escape them?

“I don’t know how to move on.”

“You’ll learn, I assure you. You must. For her sake and yours.”

Months later, he settled at an inn and when he unpacked and came across her nightgown again, he looked it over in his hands and something about it this time was different. Instead of the pain, he saw her wearing the dress at their wedding under the flowered arch and then splayed across their bed in the gown, watching him closely and waiting for him to join her. 

He hardly tranced and spent sunrise to sunset tearing at the seams and separating the fabric. The next day, he drew up new patterns. For the next week, he spent the days in a chair by the fireplace sewing it back together. He pulled extra fabric and thread he saved from when he transformed it into a nightgown, having held on to every single piece of it from the start, and he used nothing new at all, yet the resulting clothing didn’t resemble the dress or the gown one bit, except in color. 

Astarion held it up in the air once he’d finished stitching and to anyone else it must’ve looked like a simple, white shirt—albeit a bit eccentric—but when he held it close to his face, he swore he could smell her again.

For months, he’d searched far and wide for the perfect fabric for the dress, and for more months, he sat in his study and cut and sewed, dreaming of the day he’d finally see her wear it and Gods, when he saw her walk that aisle it was even more beautiful than he ever anticipated.

He was proud of it. More proud than he’d ever been of anything, possibly. 

He thought of how he tore it off her body that night, literally tore it apart at the seams—and then, he remembered the time he pieced it back together into a nightgown and she chastised him for ripping it yet again, but he sewed it back together the next day; he tore it from her countless times and fixed it in the mornings every time, all because she loved it so much.

He wore the shirt everyday. He continued traveling with it and washed it far more carefully than he ever handled any other garment, and eventually, when he was no longer sure where he’d like to go next, he stopped by Gale’s again to stay a few weeks, knowing it might be the last time they met. 

When he told Gale the history of the shirt and received a warm smile of understanding in return, Astarion thought he might be ready to go back home.

always.

Astarion finds their home how he left it, though with a thick layer of dust coating their furniture and possessions. He heads to their room first to unpack his bags. On her nightstand lies an old, dusty book; her journal. He avoided it for so long. 

He wipes off the cover and turns the pages. Scribbles, notes, even quick sketches—of animals, of scenes from the city, of him. He flips through the book until his eyes settle on a page covered in her writing. 

I’m scared. Any healer we speak to says it can’t be cured. That I’ll 

He stops reading and skips to the end, the last page. Shaky, imperfect writing that’s a harsh contrast to the page he just read, but unmistakably hers. Written in her final days, when she became too weak to keep drawing and filling pages with her thoughts and spent the majority of her days in bed.

Love lasts forever, even if the body does not. I’ll always be here, my love.

[astarion-can-spawn-me]

Archon

Club Owner!Astarion x Journalist!Reader

Modern Au

Warning: Heavy partying, drugs and alcohol mentioned

Just a little continuation of the modern one shots I'm making of the Baldur's Gate 3 characters and what their modern jobs would be. At first I pictured him as being some flamboyant designer, but it started to seem way too obvious and surface level for him. Though something about him meticulously rising in the party scene with his own club seemed to be way more fitting in my head the more I thought about. I'm also heavily inspired by my big city club scene, I spent many weekends getting sucked away in their extravagance. Also a little bit of my mom's stories of the 90's and early 2000's club scene.

The lights were heavy and blinding, the smell of sweat and body order in the air. The smell of lust was all too familiar between all the mingled bodies under those strobing lights, moving and swaying. All either high off the meaning of the life of night, drugs, alcohol. Hair and clothing swishing back in such a mesmerizing way, almost as if it was under the influence of witch craft, if you would count the party scene as such.

Which it could, the party scene was extravagant in the big cities, it was a time to let loose and let the big city take you in with it's embrace, whether it be done with safety or with the smirk of the devil disguised as a smile. You couldn't tell as you glanced around you, almost feeling yourself getting hypnotized by the graceful and sometimes sloppy movements of the people around you. Hell, it could have been the second high of the weed that hung heavy off their panting breathes. Though you were here with a purpose, with a job to do.

You sent here to hopefully snag an interview with the owner. He popped out of nowhere in the big cities downtown party scene. It was catching the attention of everyone. Anyone who had a name and a credit to follow, frat boys and sorority girls, even the minorities such as the LGBTQ community. That one garnered much attention from the conservatives the minute they introduced their drag shows to their mainstage, even now old women and men stood outside those tinted windows of the front doors clutching their pearls and purses as they yelled their obscenities to ward whatever evil they felt lurking behind those doors. Also other groups were starting to raise the worries of drug fueled nights happening within the building, worried of a spike in drugs within the city.

Now that was a worry that your local newsletter was raising within their own cubicles. They wanted the hot and heavy scoop on this place that almost everyone seemed to be in harmony in. Drunk off the simple charisma of the atmosphere.

Definitely a form of witchcraft in the air you thought as you continued your journey past the outstretched hands beckoning you to join them in their blissful stupor, tacky hands of sweat a reminder of all those people passed by upon your exposed arms and clouds of smoke from vapes swirling your senses. Your eyes kept scanning the crowds, looking for what, you had no idea, the building was packed to the brim as you continued your journey. A perilous one at that, you thought you felt the crunch of a broken glass cup beneath your shoe here and there. thankfully what you guessed were employees were quick to push everyone backed to sweep up the mess, that ocean soon engulfed that once empty space.

"Sweetheart, you look lost! Have a seat and get your bearings! It's $3 shots tonight!" Called out a voice almost crystal clear from over the heavy techno music. A man beckoned you forward, silver hair taking on the shade of whatever strobing light sweep across those strands. The sleeves of his button down rolled upon upon his arms. You could see that it was slightly wrinkled from his constant and skillful movement behind that bar. Faint droplets of whatever alcohol he poured tonight resided upon those wrinkles as well.

Despite all that, he still managed to look put together, mesmerizing, unlike the sweaty fools all around you.

But you were no fool, definitely not. You marched up to the bar that was littered with the remnants of condensation from the last glass that once rested their, slightly damp napkins also littering the surface.

"Actually, as shocking as this might sound, I'm not here to drink, is there anyway I can speak to the owner?" You called back over the obnoxiously loud music. You could have sworn it was vibrating ever organ, every cell, every single fiber of your being.

"Oh?" He spoke with a raise of his brows as he slid a drink over to another patron, them swaying off with their liquid luck to help them pushing for their night of fun and carefree. "He's not in at the moment, but I'll tell you what! He usually comes back when the lights come back on for clean up at 2:00, come back then." you didn't know if that smile was genuine, you couldn't help but sense a hint of mischievousness upon those pale lips.

"Good! I'll be back then, let him know that the Baldur's Post wants to ask him a few questions!" You shouted back. Though you weren't too hopeful that it would even happen as you made past all those sweaty hands once more and back into the fresh air of night where people lulled about, making out, fighting with the few protestors, or even wiping away tears as their friends coddled them from whatever happened that night.

Your cue to reenter the coven like place was when the hoards of people began to file out, all dazed, stupid drunk smiles slapped upon their lips, beads of sweat glistening upon their foreheads thanks to the streetlight that shined upon above along with the flashy neon light of the club. The unsuspecting prophets bidding their children of the night home and farewell until their next outing of extravagance.

Only few people were left within the building, only the few sweaty stragglers and the clean up crew sweeping and mopping the tiled floors. Now you good see the walls were a deep burgundy color, the floors and ceiling matching in the color of the dark void of sleep. It was almost as the void threatened the partiers, almost like they were dancing with death itself. You thoughts and observations might have been dramatic, but if you were in that scene as you were in your younger years, you would have found the so called dance with the void invigorating and thrilling.

"So, what do you think of the place, I hope it is to the Baldur's Post's standards" soon piped up a voice, that same man now walking up to you, hands lazily shoved within the depths of his pockets. Now a definite mischievous smirk upon those pale lips. "Welcome to the Archon, I'm Astarion who just so happens to be the owner of this fine establish."

The feeling of annoyance that bubble up within you came with a racing heart. You had to hold back the eye roll that your stare wanted to dearly display to the man before you.

"I know, it wasn't very um...hostly of me to do what I did, but I didn't think it would have been a very appropriate time to introduce myself, plus I wanted you to soak in the liveliness of the night" He said, words holding a playfulness to it as he slide onto one of the bar stools, a hand sweeping back his hair that was just ever so slightly damp. Probably from his work behind the bar or maybe it just because of all those sweaty dancing bodies that had surrounded him only moments before. "But nevertheless, what questions does your fine establish have for me?" he asked, his eyes only looking to you innocently, but at this rate, you didn't think it was very real.

"Well...do you mind if i record our conversation?" You asked, but he only gave a lazily wave of his hand, which you took as acceptance as you place your phone, now recording, on the bar between you him as you sat down. "Alright, how do you feel of all the eyes being on you? It's not all the time a club is so accepting of all groups, if you know what I'm saying.." you soon asked, notepad now out on the bar, those droplets from earlier smudging the note of whatever piece of paper was the unlucky one to be the one resting there.

"Well I like to say were are collectors of misfits, it doesn't matter if you are a football star or just a person who sells their soul to a bone crushing 9 to 5, those people can feel like an outcast and we are just the ones to give them a little pick me up, a moment to be seen" He said with a shrug of his shoulders, but he was soon calling out to one of the bartenders who was left on cleaning duty. "A drink would suit you, you are so up tight. Leon, maybe a vodka cran, they strike me as someone simple" You quickly objected, but the drink was already placed before you and also one to the now newly introduced Astarion in front of you who was already taking a nursing sip from the glass.

"Please do go on"

You couldn't even wrap your head around the character around you. Was this person real? How can someone be so...this? You didn't know if it was cockiness, but some how he was also so charismatic in the process. You were starting to slowly see why maybe this place was drawing so many people in. He was the on placing the spell upon every single warm body that walked past those doors. You were even so sure that if he were to ever speak to those bible thumping protestors outside, he would bid them farewell with only ever speaking just a few words to them.

"The community is also worried about this place fueling more drug habits" You finally spoke up, your fingers tucking a strand behind your ear. You were nervous under that piercing and analyzing gaze of his. it was like he was calculating every little thing about you. He gave a simple huff at your questions.

"Drugs were already a problem anyway and its not like it is my responsibility to say 'hey! stop doing that!'" he gave a small shake of his head as he leant his cheek upon his hand as he looked to you through those silver eyelashes of his. "But if your little post would be happy to learn that we have a zero substance policy, we can't control who does anything before they come in here, but we don't allow the activity to take place in here. I have employees undercover in every part of this bar, even in the bathrooms, to kick out anyone who is, is that satisfying enough?" His eyebrows now raised to you, waiting for your response.

"I didn't know that.." you could only respond with a simple lift of your shoulders, almost as in a surrender to the man before you.

"Hmm.." he only looked to you, you could practically see the thoughts swirling behind those eyes of his. "Com again tomorrow night" he simply stated, now standing up. "Give this place an actual chance, let that guard down. Clean slate, leave those poisoned words whispered in those pretty little ears of yours at home"

You were trapped in that little spell of his as you actually showed up the next night, clean slate. Old party clothes busted from their forgotten spot within that small apartment closet of yours. All smashed back into the void by the work clothes that took their priority over the years. You let yourself get sucked into the Archon, accepting the maze of hands this time as people happily pulled you in.

But there he was in the crowd, beckoning you with a delicate hand.

He was intoxicating as he took you by the hands, lovingly and caringly. A temptress. He so easily got you to sway with him to the music, letting the rhythm take him and yourself on a journey under those colorful lights. Each and every beat taking away an ounce of care from your shoulders as you became entangled with him. The smell of sweat all around the two of you, but it was invigorating. Feet never tired, body never tired. Laughter came so easy, smiles and grins.

It finally occurred to you that this was it. The freeness. It was the ability to just do, to let go, to breathe. No crushing feeling of impressing the editors at work or get the dirt on the next target. It was just you and nothing holding you back. Not a drink or substance to coax that feeling out of the soul within your swaying body.

Well the taste of his lips upon yours was possibly the equivalent to any drink that could have been brought to your own lips. The feeling of his fingers within your hair a shivering sensation. Such a superficially thing it could have been viewed as from someone glancing, but how it all seeped and swirled into your sense and his own. In a blink of an eye the lights were on and your were sitting on a bar stool, glass of water rolling with condensation sat in front of you, the same for Astarion besides you, his chest almost moving in the same rhythm as your as he also to catch his own breath.

"I forgotten what that felt like" you finally was able to say in your breathlessness.

"I know it may sound a bit cliche of me, but same" Astarion said with a laugh. "The moment I opened this place I was always behind the bar or making sure everything was running smoothly, you know, being such a mindful business owner. Though I let it make me into what I'm trying to make my patrons forget. Selling my soul to that pesky 9 to 5."

You understood what he meant. It gave a new insight into him. A business owner.

"But that still means we have jobs, dear. Go home before you fellow writers and editors send hounds after me" He said nonchalantly as he handed you the small hand bag you brought with you, leaving you to make your departure from the establish, the night finally catching up as you could feel those pesky blisters forming on the parts of your feet and toes that didn't agree with the shoes you were wearing, but it wasn't much of a concern to you as you bid those neon signs and street lights a goodbye.

Though it took you until the next morning to find that crumbled up napkin within your purse that had a number scrawled on it with the name 'Astarion' following after it, slightly smudged by a droplet of something wet it must have encountered at some moment during that night. Your fingers automatically typed the number into your phone, but you were at a loss at what to actually message him as you stared to the messenger bar on your phone. You could have face palmed at the fact of your simply sending a 'Astarion?' to him was actually a good way to approach it. It wasn't much of a shock when he sent your name back, he knew exactly what he was doing, whatever it was, it was unknown to you.

Nevertheless, that little insignificant text sent a flourish of something. Novels of words spilled between the two of you during the week. Jokes, slight flirting, slight windows of emotions of opening up about certain things. People would notice that stupid smile that would come to your face the moment his name would appear onto your cell phone. It was the same for him, but he was too prideful when someone would call him out on it, simply waving them off.

That's how you found yourself wrapped within his arms on the worn down couch of your apartment. A simple sunday night, the worries of work long forgotten, even if only in merely hours the two of you would have to bid bitter goodbyes to worry about work all over again.

What a pesky little thing.

But none of that matter, not even the heavy pattering of rain upon your window mattered as you snuggled up to him, basking in his cologne as a corny vampire movie played on the tv before you. His arms were good about melting the worries of the real world beyond this mortal realm along with those fingers that absentmindedly twirled your hair around his fingers, snagging on a little knot every now and then, but he was always quick to give a soft sorry that you could feel whisp by your ear.

the shivers that he subjected you to should have been criminal.

"And just to think, you sent to take down my little empire" He joked as his arms pulled you in close, the feeling of his rumbling chest up against you own.

"Good thing you have such a good way with words to stop me.." you quipped back, lifting your head to look up to him, his hand soon cupping your flushed cheek.

"Yes, good thing..."

[raulimages]

[astarion-can-spawn-me]

Work Ethic

Park Ranger! Halsin x Park Ranger!Reader

Modern!Au because why the hell not?

Summary: may or may not have been heavily inspired by the park rangers I grew up around at my local culture center. That little old place holds such a special place in my heart. I am a junior park ranger after all 😎

Sweat beaded at your brow, but your hand was quick to delicately pat it away. The summers were unforgiving, even under the gray skies of the early morning. Though you could see off to the distance, just peeking over the green tree tops and old buildings of the past, just the faintest hues of orange and reds just ready to burst from beyond their little horizon. With the rays came the few farmers that lived within the small town, bidding their wives and children goodbye, the faint yelping of a dog from behind their glass windows are their happy panting as they hopped up along side their masters in their pick up. They would only have to drive a few miles further up a ways to hit their farms where they have been settled for the past 100 years or so.

It was an odd place to have a little culture center in such a small town, but a small town emblazoned with their own culture and tradition. Old murals adorned the sides of old buildings, depicting musicians and food. Though many of the locals didn’t visit the culture center, maybe occasionally for their child’s school field trip, it definitely didn’t see the action of it’s sister centers in the bigger cities nearby, but around certain holidays it would see it’s fair share of tourist, but now it was just another simple day.

This was far away from what you thought a park ranger would ever be doing. You always pictured a Steve Irwin type herding people through muddy river basins or through rough and rocky terrain along forest trails. You’ve come to appreciate the cultural and historical aspect of it all, it was probably for the best.

“Oh this stupid damned thing!” Huffed out a voice as you pushed past the glass doors. A thud came after it as a woman scrunched her face to the old thermostat. “You would think they would allow us to control our own AC instead of having to call the head office!”

“Now Ms.Jaheira, patience is a virtue!” You teased, your hat now being placed upon your head, fingers pinning the badge to your freshly ironed shirt.

Jaheira was a veteran in the field, hopping from one national park to the next. Her knowledge was admirable, but sometimes you would always catch the look of longing in those wise eyes, but the laid back nature suited her, at least now it did. It was less of a burden on her weathered shoulders, less pressure upon herself. If you did have to categorize her, she would have been the Steve Irwin type you always imagined as a child. She was the one to hobble through muddy basins and conquer rough woodland trails.

“Well good thing the all maker has bestowed such a prized gift onto you!” She chimed up, finally the ancient AC humming to life. Already the cool air began cutting through the stiff air like a knife. “It’s field trip day, remember”

She was already following you to the break room, her steps always precise, always made with confidence. Though she still gave you a stern look as your head tilted back with a little groan as you tossed your purse onto the table.

“Yes I know, which is why I have double checked with everyone today. Musicians are gonna be the first for their music demonstration. Then our local butcher has kindly volunteered for a cooking demonstration and you would be pleased that he is exonerated in one of our local dishes” your hand went to grab the phone out of your pants pocket, now scrolling through emails to double check your memory of the day’s itinerary. “Then dear old Elminster will calm things down with his history of the area and whatnot, then lunch time which has been donated. I also contacted wildlife and fisheries to have someone teach the kids the laws and safe handling of the wild life of the area, but they said they are sending over a ranger from one of the wildlife parks….oh! And then the old woman who runs the quilting club in the spare room will give a weaving lesson”

“Wow, I’m impressed” Jaheira said with a raise of her brows, a hand sassily placed upon her hip. “And you will be pleased to know I have set up the rooms for the different demonstrations, the band is here, Elminster is currently critiquing our displays, and the food preparations are all in order” she confirmed with you. Always orderly, you can always trust her to keep everything in line as well. A nice pair the two of your made. “It’s just our fellow park ranger we are waiting on…” she huffed out as she looked to the watch upon her wrist.

There was no time to worry about that, as the quiet humming of engines were already heard within the small break room. The wholesome sounds of buses, the chirping of kids and their teachers already urging them to quiet down. That was Jaheira’s cue to walk back to the front, opening the doors, that prideful smile upon her face as she greeted the children, their small bodies already pouring into the room, her voice already rising above all others to give off the usual spiel.

“Alright children! Are you ready to learn about your culture and history!’ She shouted excitedly to the children, already leading the group to the displays that lined the halls and little rooms, skillfully giving her explanations to the group of kids.

It left you to round up the musicians into their places, checking in on the cooking demonstrator, but of course…that left Elminster.

“Stop a bit and speak to an old man” he huffed out behind that wise, old beard of his as he clutched a shaky hand onto your outstretch arm.

“Maybe later Mr.Elminster, there’s a lot to do as you know” you said with a smile as you began urging him to the room that the band was setting up. “The kids are going to listen to the music, then head to the cooking demonstration and then head back to you, so it will give you much to ponder of how you are gonna educate them” you spoke up as you lead him to the room, helping him sit upon one of the upholstered chair.

“You are certainly right my dear, even though getting older is suppose to make one wise, it is still hard to find that right words, especially on an empty stomach” he said with a wink, but you already knew what he was eluding to.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Jaheira bring you a plate when they are done with the cooking demonstration for lunch” which he gave you a kind pat on your bent down shoulder, all the response you needed to straighten up from your hunched down position. Though you were met by a towering figure the moment you turned around.

“My apologies for being late, I kind of got lost out here…” the man was huge, strong stature. Scars on his face, tattoos peeking out from his collared shirt, trailing up upon his face. You were pretty certain even if you were standing further away from him, you could still pick up the scent of fresh dirt and leaves that permeated from him. Even the faintest scent of sweat, but not in a bad way, in an endearing way if that makes sense. Like the smell of a hard working father coming home to engulf his children in a hug.

“I’m sorry, you are….?” You trailed off as you bent your neck to look at him, eyes slightly squinting to the badge on his shirt.

“Park Ranger Halsin, wildlife and fisheries sent me out here for a demonstration, I use to work for them, but I ended up taking a position at the wildlife refuge at the coast” he explained, already following your steps as you began to lead him back to the entrance. He may have not known, but you were skillfully avoiding a tangent from the old Elminster. He may have been a wise man, but a wise man with many words that lead simply nowhere at times.

“Yes of course, let’s get you set up in our other demonstration room” you spoke out, now quickly following his lead to the glass doors. “And I don’t blame you, it may be a small city, but this place is tucked away, definitely not as grand as the other culture centers” you bashfully said as you followed him up to his truck, tailgate already being lifted down with those strong, calloused hands of his. You could even see the faintest traces of dirt on his hands.

“But still important none the less” he said with a soft smile as he reached into the back, already pulling forward boxes and strangely a pet carrier. You tried to slyly lean a bit to peak at what he could possibly have stored in there.

“Oh this is Philippe” he said, almost with a childlike excitement as he opened the pet carrier. Of all things you would have never expected a raccoon to lazy start reaching up for him. But he excepted the creature with open arms. “I uh…rescued him and he’s been with me ever since. Also a good way of showing off our native species.” those strong arms held the creature tenderly, like a father to his offspring.

“I can’t say I encounter raccoons that are companions.” You were astonished, fingers tenderly giving the animal’s head a little scratch. Though those hands of yours grabbed on of the boxes he pulled forward, Philippe already knowingly hopping upon the other one as Halsin grabbed it.

“They definitely shouldn’t be pets, I know that may sound hypocritical coming from me, but you know how raccoons like to wash their food before they eat it? Well I let him do it back home…and he got ahold of my cellphone too, so not a good mix. I also learned rice doesn’t really help with water logged phone either.” You knew the scornful look he gave the raccoon was all in playfulness, which made a little laugh bubble to your lips. You could already picture it in your head.

“Your dear Philippe sounds like a menace.” You giggled out as you pushed past the doors once more, he following after you through the gush of cold air that blew up to greet you from the comfort of the culture center. Your ears also perked up to the sounds of the lively music coming from one of the demonstration rooms, intertwined with laughter of the children.

“Well, he is still a wild animal at heart I suppose” he chimed, his heavy footsteps following you to the empty demonstration room, his box being set upon the table set up front, already laying out his items.

Different pressed leaves now displayed out, the branches of different native plants. All the works of what’s was very befitting of a park ranger who dealt with the more wild side of the job description. He even had animal traps out as well.

“Alright, I’ll give you a rundown. I’m gonna inform the kids of different plants in the area, which ones are safe and not safe, native and common animals, insects, birds. I will also go over safety, why I have the animal traps.” He explained as he motioned to all the stuff he had set out. “Even though they should always be supervised while out in forested areas, it is still better to be able to recognize traps that farmers could set up for coyotes and bobcats and know not to touch them.” He listed off as he squatted down to once again cradle the raccoon in his arms, the raccoon lazily accepting his fate in the comfortable embrace. Now that the fast paced introduction was over, you could finally admire the man before you.

Yes he was tall and strong, but attractive. His hair whisped about his shoulders. A braid or two peaking out and adorned with thin pieces of colorful thread and an occasional decorative bead. Even having such an intimidating stature, those eyes were kind and gentle. Almost as if you were starring into the eyes of a farmers most trusted companion, his loyal dog. Those scars upon his face couldn’t diminish that softness.

But his shirt….you could see those well earned muscles bulge beneath that gray uniform shirt. Who knew those frumpy uniforms could look so flattering. You didn’t let your fleeting eyes linger for too long as you connected your gaze with his again.

“Well I’ll leave you to finish setting up, but I’m sure the kids will enjoy dear old Philippe, I’ll send the group over after the cooking demonstration, I can try and push back Elminster after everyone has eaten, maybe it will help him be better with his words.” You couldn’t help but give a little huff of a small laugh at your own little joke, even if he did not understand quite yet himself, but he only nodded, that kind smile still upon those lips.

“Me and Philippe will be waiting happily” he said, motioning to the raccoon whose head simply lulled lazily about. Such a pampered and spoiled creature, you could tell he was lovingly cared and doted on.

Elminster was delighted by the news once you quietly reported back to him when the kids had all migrated to the cooking demonstration room. So your little hunch about him wanting to eat first was correct.

“So…I see our fellow park ranger is quite the sight…” Jaheira spoke out quietly to you from the back of the food demonstration room, arms crossed over her chest. “The scars may be a dead giveaway from at least having something to do with the great wild, but tattoos? That would have thrown me off…”

“Oh I know, I honestly didn’t have much time to ponder over that when he first got here…” which was true, wasn’t something you saw everyday, not even from the culture centers in the bigger cities. “But it gives that rough edge, should excite the kids more. They might be slightly disappointed when he actually begins to speak, he is quite soft spoken.”

“Interesting…” was all she managed to say before she stepped forward to chime into the demonstration. You and Jaheira switched off though, she fixed herself and wise Elminster a plate for their little lunch, tucking away back in the break room to enjoy their meal as you beckoned the kids to where Halsin waited.

Their excited eyes upon seeing the raccoon brought a dumb smile to your face as your looked to their excited faces as they all sat down, all sitting at their edge of their seat.

Honestly it was all quite interesting, watching Ranger Halsin expertly explain everything, to simple ways to tell the difference between leaves, to why a plant was named whatever it was named. Even to the animal traps, you couldn’t help but almost have the same wide eyed expression as he would set them off and warn them of their dangerous nature and explaining that it was important to always stay away from them an such.

And of course, can’t forget about Philippe who got all the loving he needed for at least a month. By the end of the day he would probably want his own space even from his master’s arms.

Sadly the kids were beckoned off for lunch, giving the last goodbye to Philippe, but their sadness was quickly forgotten by the food that was now being provided to fill those stomachs. That left you carrying a plate to the break room, where Halsin now sat, Philippe away eating his own meal at his feet. The Ranger gladly took the plate, you now sitting across from him.

“I forget how it is, you know, dealing with children, I miss their excitement and hunger for knowledge…” he spoke up, voice almost rumbling in the small break room.

“Must be a different pace from what you are use to” you chimed up, handing him a napkin, which he also accepted.

“Indeed, but I prefer this, adults can be cruel. Their egos get in the way of everything…” a soft frown pulled at his lips, but it was quickly washed away with a bite of food. “They always venture off, get lost, put themselves in danger, never eager to learn. Children on the other hand, they devour everything that is told to them.”

“Plus this place is also charming, believe it or not, I come from an even more rural place than this” he spoke, a sense of nostalgia dripping off his words “nothing but swamps and forest for miles…”

“Then it makes sense why you are in this profession” you said as you began eating.

“Well I started off in wildlife and fisheries, but it became too much. Hunting season is the worst to deal with. Neighbors get mad about who is hunting where. Poachers…god the poachers. But park ranger life is more befitting, I find it better to teach rather than deal with petty wildlife disputes.“ you knew about those disputes all too well, sometimes you would hear about those petty disputes in the local grocery store between old farmers or just the locals gossiping about someone they knew.

“Well it all is a bit different than what we deal with here. Our other ranger Jaheira has more experience with wildlife. I didn’t get much of a chance to, but I learned to find this outlet satisfying.” You admitted as you pushed your plate aside, hands now removing your hat. Halsin followed your move. It was like you could now finally see his face fully, but it was not a disappointment, not at all.

“We do forget that history is also very important, remember, you are the back bone in the preservation of history and that needs just the same amount of importance as wildlife, even if history may have not been so kind to it.” Halsin had such a way with words, voice speaking them so smoothly, he was seeming to hold a much greater wisdom than Elminster, who you could faintly hear drowning on and on about traditions and all stories. You can already picture those school children comforted by food just fighting the sleep that wanted to take over their senses.

“You are definitely right about that..” your head could only picture the old photos of the town you reside in, how those old photos showed a spread out community with so many fields in between. Now it was only pothole filled roads with shady patch jobs, small town lawyers offices, and an occasional fast food joint.

Humanity at its finest.

Something about the way he looked at you, it made you almost bashful. An intense stare, endearing, and comforting all at once. You could feel a wave of multiple sensations travel up your spine in a shiver. All you could do was fiddle with the napkin that sat in front of you, struggling to find the right words to piece together in your mind.

“Are you free? This weekend?” He finally spoke up “I mean tomorrow, I’m sorry if I come off as strong” he finally managed out, honeyed words now seeming to be nervous. “But, I would like to take you to the refuge I work at, I finally got my boat fixed up.” His fingers were now the ones fiddling. Though you can only smile as you nodded your head.

“Yes I would love to” and with that, a number exchange was made and a timid goodbye was bid as he loaded up the last of his things, tailgate making its way down that old town road.

“A date at a refuge huh?” Jaheira’s voice almost startled you from your trance of staring out the door, the culture center now quiet and still, now almsot seeming empty and lonely from the once lively state it was in.

“Oh hush….” You dumbly muttered out as you began to straighten everything up. There was no mistaking that soft hint of pink upon your cheeks.

The nervousness only set in until that morning when you could only stare at yourself in the standing mirror in your room, poking and prodding at the old clothes you decided on. There was no use in wearing something nice if you were going to spend time on a boat. You were cut short from your worrisome glances in the mirror as you heard an engine rumble again from outside your quaint little home, already rushing to the front door to close and lock it.

Halsin was gorgeous, those early morning rays of sun doing him justice as he stepped down from that old pickup truck that was covered in a layer of first, boat already hooked up to the hitch. Handsome in his own clothes, wrinkle, stain, and all. Hell you didn’t even mind the thin layer of mud that caked the heels of his boots. Though quick good mornings were said as he helped you into the passenger seat, soon leaving a trail of dust behind.

It was peaceful, the morning sun shining down through the windows and soft music playing through the radio, the wind from the rolled down windows whipping your hair about and his. The smell of dirt and forestry strong within the interior of the truck, but that was probably due to the fur leaves and crumbs of dirt that peskily made their stay on the floor, embedded into the mats of his truck. It was nice, even when the dirt scented air turned into the consolidating smell of muggy marsh as the refuge finally rolled into view you appreciated it.

Soon your hair was whipping with the winds that blew by once upon the boat, the hum of the motor steadily humming, the soft solaces of the waters rolling by refreshing on your face and exposed arms. You couldn’t help but reach out and run your fingers upon the wild rice that made their homestead on the steep banks that rolled by. The boat came to steady stop , Halsin leant back next to the motor, glancing down to the murky waters below.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been here…” you spoke out softly as you also looked to the waters below, watching the adolescent fish ripple the surface in their young curiosity, but would quickly dive down deep into those waters if a shadow would move too quickly. “I use to come all the time when I was younger.” You finally looked up and over to Halsin, who was now looking to you with that soft smile.

“Same here, it’s what pushed me in this direction in life.” His own words were also soft, as if not to disturbed the surroundings around you. “Growing up I would wake at the crack of dawn to walk along the waters, to drag my little row boat out. The rangers would always call my parents to let them know where I was, they always took me in to respite myself in their little station, showing me the things they found. Their passion ignited a life changing revelation for me.”

“Agreed, but once again, it lead me down a completely different route, but now that I think about it, I may have been life telling me I was needed else where. A gentle nudge showing me that I’m probably not cut out with dealing with lost folks along riverbeds and trails.” You joked, Halsin’s laughter joining your own.

“Like I said, it’s definitely not fun.” He added with a grin, now moving from his spot next to the motor to be closer to you, hefty body shaking the boat gently, disturbing the waters that had finally calmed down from your arrival. His hand was rummaging in the beat up ice chest that now was situated next to him, handing you a chilled canteen of water “But, it was a better fit, being a wildlife officer made me forget about the simplicity of nature, the calmness of it.”

The calmness of nature, but you couldn’t decide if it was nature itself that was the calm one, or Halsin’s gentle touch to the land doing the calming for it.

The day was spent laughing and sharing stories of nostalgia, of work, of life. You found the muscles in your cheeks hurting from the permanent smile upon your face as the two of you listened to each other intently with care. It was almost a shame when he rolled you back up to your house, that morning glow now replaced with the setting sun, everyone basked in a dark orange hue, but you didn’t mind, that color gave you a since of fulfillment as you took his calloused hand in yours as he helped you down back to solid land.

“Thank you for joining me, I really enjoyed your company” he softly spoke out, that intense stare now locked onto your own, but this time it was bashful, but that shiver of emotions traveled up your spine nonetheless.

The same could be said for him as that calloused hand still gingerly held onto yours.

“I did as well…” you felt dumb as that’s all you could say, that stare almost halting your thoughts, sending your mind into blankness, that hand of his sending a burning sensation through your fingers.

“If you don’t mind maybe we could….do this again?” He spoke out hopefully, those eyebrows furrowed together to match that hopefulness that dropped from his words.

“I would love to, maybe you can even visit here…?”

“Yes, I would love that….”