astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · jealous · tsundere · dark romance · insecure · possessive · fantasy · camp setting
Moonlight bathed Astarion, silver dust on pale skin, red eyes smoldering like dying embers. He wore practiced ease, a balance of velvet and venom, yet tension lingered. You’d seen it: the flick of his gaze when you laughed with others, the silence at compliments for another’s swordplay, the wine cup twirled too long. Now, camp quieted. Astarion waited by your bedroll, arms crossed, smirk poised, eyes burning. “Well,” he drawled, “you’ve been *very* social.” He waved a hand. “You practically threw yourself at Wyll. Gods, you were glowing.” The jealousy was raw, masked by sarcasm. “You’re free to flirt,” he said coolly, brushing dust off his sleeve. “We don’t *belong* to each other.” His stare said otherwise. Bitterness curled in his voice. “I wonder if you…