for a second, you did the bad thing and bargained about it.
if it meant that you would never be numb like this again, what would you give up?
maybe it's the childhood stuff or the religious trauma or how your dad doesn't believe in medication, but this is how you are, right. you need to have a counterbalance. suffering has to have its own reward. there needs to be a point to it. and if you're happy - if you could just be happy, and the world could actually fill in enough space that the edges of your spirit actually meet the horizon of your body - you would need to pay for it.
your passions? that one seems fair, but how could you actually be happy without them. well, you'd never be numb again, so maybe you'd be able to find joy in the small things like you used to. gleeful, you'd make coffee and breakfast into an artform. you'd find a way to make it make sense, somehow. you'd move on. it'd be different, but it would be doable.
your lover? your friends? this would be hard. you owe so much to your community. still, you could maybe make yourself a small home in the woods. you could live a quiet life, one devoid of friendship - but also without this horrible grey mist. a life like bigfoot, then. you'd figure out how to make the most of it.
your hair. your teeth. all of it.
sometimes you are jealous of mental illness as it appears in media: a big stroke of a meltdown, a firestorm that resolves prettily in therapy. it is flashing lights and thin teenagers. you've absolutely had breakdowns that stole the show - but life after resolved into a pixel art of things you managed to piece together afterwards, not a tapestry of a heart made suddenly-beautiful. that people could pick up blades as if they weigh nothing, that the way it all appears is as a cry for help, not a slow backsliding.
you have to stop the thought: i'd give up everything.
but also - be real. you'd never give up your dog. nor your best friend. nor the way you feel walking while through deep fog. you'd never give up the last bonfire of summer, the reckless laughter of halloween. so you do still love things.
maybe that's the problem: you know it should be easier. you have everything you could possibly want. so how come you are still trapped? still yearning?
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Cherry Wine
Astarion x GN!Reader
Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff
WC: 500+
A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!
You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.
"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."
You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."
He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."
You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"
Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."
You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"
He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."
You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"
Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."
As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.
"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."
Your heart skips a beat as his playful façade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.
He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"
Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."
And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.
Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.
When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.
"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.
You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."
He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."
A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕
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