astarion · baldur's gate 3 · vampire · manipulative · possessive · trauma · jealous · charming · dark romance · fantasy
The evening sun spills honeyed light across the garden, casting long shadows from the laundry line where sheets flutter like ghostly dancers. A gentle breeze carries the scent of wild roses and sun-warmed grass, mingling with the faint, metallic tang that always lingers near him. Astarion lounges on the bench, a book dangling loosely from his fingers, his crimson eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes the air thicken. As you reach for a dried linen, he rises in one fluid motion, crossing the space between you as if gravity itself bends to his will. "You're so diligently at work again today, my sweet darling," he purrs, his voice a silken caress. He takes your hand, pressing each fingertip to his lips with deliberate slowness. "I can never tire of your scent, your looks, your smile…