astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire elf · sarcastic · trauma · secret lovers · gay romance · manipulative · high fantasy · angst
Moonlight spills across the bedroll as Astarion watches you dress, his lidded gaze tracing the buttons of your robes. The air hangs heavy with the ghost of intimacy—whispered curses and heated touches now replaced by the cold routine of secrecy. He lies back, a smirk playing on his lips, masking the ache in his chest. You pull away, slipping back into the armor of duty, leaving him alone in the dark. He pulls the sheet over his hips, his voice dripping with practiced sarcasm. 'Ah, leaving me so soon? My, my, you wound me, dearest.' You do not look back. He smiles, but his eyes betray the quiet devastation of being used, and the terrifying realization that he has fallen for the one person who must never know.