Sylus is for the ones whose feet always seem to find the cracks in the pavement, who always seem to stumble over themselves as they try desperately to make something- a name for themselves, a conversation, a new relationship, a stronger existing one, anything- only to fail again and again.
Sylus is for the ones who find themselves holding up their hands as they watch them shake. Why you? Why was everything always on you? Why did you always have to make the effort, the connection, the fake-happy face to appease someone, just so that they might love you?
Sylus is for the ones who truly try, but have longed since reached the breaking point. Don't worry darling. Hide the cracks. If they're hidden, you surely can handle a little bit more disappointment. A little bit more 'being alone' no matter how hard you try. A little bit more on focusing on everyone else's needs while neglecting your own. Why are you breaking? Why are your pieces on the floor? Chin up, darling. It's only for a while longer. How much longer? Well, how much more do you have left to give?
Sylus is for the ones who sit wondering why. Why is there suddenly the foreign feeling of care, of love, of endearment? When everything has been 'nothing' for so long, how are you supposed to cope with 'anything' at all? Much less 'everything'? The stack of bills are paid, the cupboards no longer have ramen, rice, and beans. The texts come frequently, and your phone rings randomly whenever you cross someone's mind. When have you ever crossed someone's mind? And the clothes bought for you fit like a glove.
Sylus is for the ones who have given everything all of their life, who have found themselves desperate for connections that no one wants to make with them, who give their everything in exchange for more anxiety and demands at their expense.
Constantly thinking about how when you play as durge and try breaking up with our precious vampire because you’re worried that you’ll kill him, Astarion says:
“Cazzador used his tortures to strike terror into me, but I’ve rarely been more afraid than on the night when I feared Bhaal had claimed you for good”
“But I trust you won’t kill me. And if you do, then I’ve gotten sloppy, and probably had it coming”
This man is risking his own life so he can be with you and he’s comparing the fear of losing you to the 200yrs of torture by Cazzador..oh my bad, losing you is worse “I’ve rarely been more afraid”
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader
Word Count: 786
Synopsis: Astarion wants to go to bed, Tav is not quite on his side. He decides they need a bit of persuasion
Warnings: none I can think of! Everything should be gender neutral and description free - let me know if I have missed anything
Notes: This was inspired by the little imagine @justporo posted a few days back that I have not been able to get out of my head - especially after Neil said he based some of Astarion's movements and personality off of the stray cat he has somewhat adopted from his back garden.
As always, please leave your feedback - I hope you enjoy! ~ Find my Masterlist Here and my Astarion Playlist Here
“‘Starion, love, you’re hovering,” you murmured as you caught him flitting around in your peripheral vision. He had popped in and out of the room three times now, checked the curtains twice, and was now leaning not so subtly against the door frame watching you, fiddling with his ring.
“Do you realise it is nearly sun up?” he finally spoke. You were sitting hunched over the table, writing lazily as you fought your tired eyes.
“Yes, I’ll be there in a bit.” you looked up briefly, shooting him a tired smile before returning to your scribbles.
Astarion huffed quietly through his nose. He hated when you worked yourself like this, he would think you were still fighting for your lives with the way you insisted on getting everything done so immediately – almost nothing could wait until the next day. Why? He could never figure out.
Pushing off of the door frame, he sauntered over to you, resting his hands on your shoulders and digging his fingers in lovingly, rubbing small circles into the skin. His lips quirked up into a soft smile when he heard you groan a little, the gentle pressure already enough to help alleviate some of the tension from your back.
“I don’t think you quite understand my meaning, my love,” he pressed, fingers continuing their administrations.
“All of the curtains are drawn already,” you hummed absentmindedly, still not looking up from your pen. He rolled his eyes,
“Yes, I see that, thank you. What I mean is it is time for bed. Time for you to go to bed.” When you continued writing he reached over you, pulling the pen from your grasp and knocking it across the table as you tried to protest.
“Star, I was almost done!” you whined as he pulled the chair out from the table, taking you with it
“Somehow, I don’t believe that,” he tutted, pushing the papers out of your reach as well. If he didn’t know you as well as he did, he would have thought you were genuinely mad at him, your eyebrows down turned as you tried to scowl at him. Really, you just looked adorable. “I might be able to get by on four hours of trance, but you need at least eight hours sleep – specifically with me if you want to stay your beautiful, witty self.”
“I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” He laughed as you crossed your arms in mock frustration,
“Oh darling, you and I both know that if you don’t get your beauty sleep you become dangerous. And I say that as a vampire.”
You pondered his words for a moment before sighing, nodding reluctantly. “Fine, you win this time.”
“I win every time,” he snarked back under his breath, reaching his hands for yours to help pull you from your chair.
He led you up the stairs in front of him, almost herding you to the bedroom so that you didn’t stop to quickly tidy something up, or adjust the picture frames on the walls. When he finally managed to guide you to bed, your tiredness hit you almost instantly. The dark bedroom was comforting and pleasantly warm – Astarion always made sure it was heated so that you never felt cold even with him in bed. You felt warm even as Astarion lovingly hugged you from behind, his cool chest against your back as his hands rubbed up and down your arms. “Let me,” he spoke softly, reaching for the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head, helping to undress you as you sat sleepily on the edge of the mattress.
He opened his arms instinctively as he crawled into bed beside you, letting you shuffle comfortably into his grasp, head resting on his chest even if it made you shiver slightly so that his arms could wrap around you fully, pulling you closer to him protectively, as if to allay his own fears that something could take you away as he tranced.
He would never tell you, but he would never trance until he had too, deciding to hold you through the night and meditate only when the sun began to sink again below the houses, his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back long after you had fallen asleep – a habit he had gotten into on your adventures that he still couldn’t break, even five years later.
“Sleep well, Star,” you murmured against his skin as you succumbed to sleep.
“You too, my love.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline, lips lingering against the skin as he closed his eyes and relished the feeling of your body against his, relished being safe.
Warnings: Implied Internal Trauma, Personal Relationship Issues, Gross Stuff like Falling in Love
Astarion:
He argues with himself for a long time before love comes to mind. It’s bad enough that he’s starting to like you but love? That’s just going to make things even harder. Astarion feels like the more he tries to talk himself out of it, the worse it gets. You corner him after dinner one night and he smiles, turning up the charm. You ignore his nervousness, giving him a simple wooden box. He immediately fills with dread; you want something. Of course you do. He’s not expecting there to be a book inside, the next one in the series he’s reading. You assure him that you don’t want anything in return, giving him a gentle smile before heading to your own tent. His heart thunders in his chest, fingers trailing over the cover. He’s not in love, Astarion tells himself as he goes to start the book. He can’t be but… if he is, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. Not with you.
Gale:
He’s not against falling in love per say, Gale just isn’t looking. Honestly he’s not. This is more social interaction than he’s had in years and he’s not trying to fuck it up, thank you very much. That doesn’t mean he can’t forget himself, especially when you start asking him questions about magic. Gale loves magic most of all and he only realizes he’s been ranting after twenty minutes. He winces, scolding himself mentally and turns to you. You’re both sitting on the floor of his tent, sipping tea in the early afternoon. He fully anticipates that you’re going to half awake, bored to tears and doing something else. Instead, you’re staring at him with rapt attention, eyes bright and small smile on your face. When he’s silent for too long you ask him to keep going, asking if he’ll keep explaining. Gale is more than happy to continue, something warm in his chest. He hopes that you’ll keep looking at him that way even after he stops talking. And you do.
Halsin:
Loud barks and hoots draw Halsin’s attention, the druid looking up from his papers. You’re a bit away from camp, Scratch and the owlbear cub playing with you. The three of you are chasing each other and wrestling, the cub slamming into the back of your knees. Halsin watches you go flying before laughing and grabbing the cub as best you can. You half swing him around, Scratch barking as you send his friend flying. The owlbear cub gives a roar, rolling through the grass and you laugh, chasing after the dog now. Halsin can’t help but smile; you’re so kind of everyone around you and he enjoys that you can relax. He hasn’t been ignorant to the feelings developing in his chest, just focusing on different things. The warmth he feels only grows as he watches you and he vows to talk about it. Halsin is sure he recognizes the looks you send him; he just needs to find the right time.
Karlach:
She realizes she’s in love after a tough fight. Her blood is still pumping and she wants more enemies to show up so she can have an excuse to go wild. You’re joking around with Wyll on the other side of the battlefield, the warlock turning to say something to you. You offer a smile and begin to hike up the slope and trip. Karlach watches in slow motion as you land hard on your ass, sliding down mud straight into the river. Wyll is frozen on the edge of the bank and she quickly makes he way over, worried that you’re injured. By the time she gets over there, you’re laughing loudly, head thrown all the way back. Her heart skips a beat; you’re covered in blood and mud and all sorts of gunk but all she can see is the right smile on your face. She’s in love.
Lae’zel:
Lae’zel doesn’t call it love. It’s admiration, respect for your skills. There are very few people she would follow verses leading herself and she admits that you’re good at it. She also enjoys the sex and that’s always a bonus. The sun is just beginning to go down and you stop on the edge of a cliff to watch. Lae’zel turns to scold you (the group needs to get back to camp) but she’s struck by your figure. You look like a painting, noble and steadfast. Your face is determined but not tense, taking in the sunset. There’s something in your eyes, something softer than she expects and it takes her breath away. She swears to herself and turns away, missing the affectionate look you send her. She’s doesn’t call it love, even if deep, deep down she wishes she could.
Shadowheart:
Night has finally fallen on a long, long day. Shadowheart is thankful that you’re the one with her on first watch tonight; your silence isn’t looming as she prays and the sound of sharpening blades is soothing. There isn’t the need to fill the silence with noise and it feels calm in a way that’s unfamiliar. Usually she finds the night comfortable but cold, like an winter breeze. You’re like the night but warm, a balm on an open wound. She smiles as she watches you, not looking away when you meet her eyes. You smile and she’s filled with affection, even as her hand throbs. The pain is worth it; you make her feel truly seen.
Wyll:
You’re crouched by a small cave, voice low and arm outstretched. The group had just finished a fight, a camp overrun with bandits. Wyll scowled to himself, looking over the bodies strewed over the ground. The people had been innocent and he wished he had been faster. Movement catches the corner of his vision and he turns, watching as, slowly, a child comes out of the cave. They’re covered in dirt and blood but you smile and they take you hand. Wyll can’t the stop the soft look from coming onto his face as you begin the check for wounds. The world can be a dark place but you give him hope; it’s more than he deserves.
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