Gay BG3 One-Shots

The Taste of Guilt

Yandere ascended Astarion × Male reader

Tw: Implied r-word and death

(I couldn't get much information on this interaction, so it's almost entirely my own version. Spoilers for Astarion and... act 3?? Also, I have no clue if vampires need consent to turn someone into a spawn.)
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"I can't do this anymore."

(Y/n) couldn't bear to look Astarion in the eyes. The ascension, it... it changed him.

"What in the hells do you mean by that?"

"I mean that you're not the man I fell for. You share his name; his face... but you aren't him."

Astarion scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest like a smug bastard.

"So, are you saying you loved me for being weak? I have power now, greater than ever before."

"I didn't care about your power. I loved you for you... but I suppose the you I loved is dead now, huh?"

The vampire smirked. It seemed like he was looking right through (Y/n).

"Then who, pray tell, am I?"

(Y/n) lifted his gaze, catching those red irises with his own.

"Cazador."

He seemed upset with that answer.

"I have no desire to be your... what did you call it again? Puppet?"

Astarion didn't say a word.

"I won't become what you were to him... I wish you the best."

With his final words spoken, (Y/n) began to push past the pale elf. He flinched as an icy grip clenched his bicep.

"You're not going anywhere."

Now it was (Y/n)'s turn to scoff.

"What, are you going to kill me for breaking up with you? Isn't that a little petty?"

The (race) tried to tug himself free, but Astarion's grip only tightened further.

"I said, you're not leaving."

A firm pull on his arm dragged (Y/n) into Astarion's chest, where the vampire promptly buried his face into (Y/n)'s neck.

The (shorter/taller) heaved an exasperated sigh.

"I won't fall for lies spoken on honeyed lips, Astarion. This just isn't-"

A piercing pain cut (Y/n)'s words short, his mouth left slightly agape in a silent scream as his eyes widened in betrayal. It felt like ice shooting through his viens.

Astarion wrapped himself around the (taller/shorter) male tighter, gripping the back of the (race)'s head and pushing himself deeper into (Y/n)'s neck.

Struggling was futile now...

By the time Astarion's grip loosened, (Y/n) was dizzy and lightheaded as he pushed the vampire away.

Instinctively, he placed his hand on his neck and felt the blood spilling down. The warmth remained as (Y/n) fearfully pulled it away.

The (race) could only stare at the smeared crimson upon his hand, watching an identical ruby trickle sliding down Astarion's mouth.

Neither said a word, silence enveloping the bland room around them.

"... I was wrong."

(E/c) orbs remained focused on his trembling hand.

"You're not Cazador."