Astarion and I [x reader] (Baldurs Gate 3) SMUT + STORYLINE

Chapter 15- Mistakes can happen twice, right?

Short- SHORT Short chapter today yall! I am so so sorry. I am so stuffed up with homework and work.

Somehow, I let myself get swept in Astarion's words. I let myself get swept away with his little smirks and stares. I couldn't open myself to him again, yet I knew he saw through me. It was obvious when I looked into his eyes, it was almost pitiful. Swept away by the little gentle feeling that maybe he was being sincere.

"Well, you won't be getting any discounts." I retorted, trying oh, so, desperately to hold that feeling of blush from flooding my cheeks. He just smiled... which was strange. Usually, it was a smirk and some disingenuous comment to try to force womanly emotions out of me. Here, it was just a simple small smile and a light breathy hum, barely hearable.

I turned back to the stream, the babbling brook picking up cool air from the high mountains this same river came from. It's pebbles seemed soft from where I was sitting, the water pressure shaving off all the sharp bits and pieces. The trees surrounding us matched this, with it's wood sculpted from years and years of growth and animals using it as home. Even now, I could hear the faintness of a woodpecker, tapping away at the bark of a tree somewhere high up. The sky was a mix of blues, turning to a majestic pink, and leading with the beautiful sunset of oranges and reds mixing at the horizon. A chilly breeze set across like a soft sheet of ice blowing in the wind.

Why is my hand warm?

oh.

I always imagined his hands cold, a grim reminder of his undead nature. Yet, as I looked down at them, I could even see the light blush on his translucent colored knuckles. I thought the warmth we shared... then, was just from the sweat, the emotion, the raw fierceness. Yet, here he was, warm. He was turned away, yet his long ears were tinted ever so lightly at the end with the light color of pink. 

was this... nice. 

no.

no, no.

no, no, no. 

I can't be thinking such thoughts. I remember what he did to me. I remember such actions of cruel words escaping his icy breath like a dagger knowing exactly where to pierce. I can't think of that, of him.