ayselluna - Tumblr blog

ayselluna · 2 days

Text

Conversations with a vampire - part 5/10

Story summary: A story told through a series of conversations between Astarion and child Tav, tracing the slow and steady progress of trust and friendship.

Chapter summary: Having spent time in the kennels, Astarion is back to hunting for victims when he gets threatened by his two siblings. Tav sticks her nose where it does not belong and finds out that Astarion is a vampire. Seeing that Astarion is visibly shaken and upset, Tav tries to make him feel better by telling 'un-fang-atable' jokes.

Humor/Friendship/Angst

Chapter warnings: some mentions of abuse and torture.

Rating: Teen. Mild language, mentions of abuse, some violence.

Setting: Set before the events of the game.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N If you want to be on the tag list for this story or any others, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment.

All comments, questions, constructive criticism are welcome. :)

He did not see Tav for a while after that. Astarion could not tell exactly for how long. Cazador’s beating have become especially vicious lately, punishments commonplace. Not one of them was safe, not one spawn could please him enough, not even Leon, no matter how many victims they brought back. Astarion spent weeks or perhaps months in the kennels, tortured then healing, then being tortured again. It seemed inane and unnecessary, but there was never any rhyme or reason for Cazador’s cruelty, so the spawn just took it. And hoped. They didn’t know what they hoped for, but for now being let out would be enough.

When he was finally allowed to leave the palace again, Astarion could hardly recognise the city. It seemed that nothing and everything changed. Or perhaps it was just him.

“There you are! I was worried about you!”

Tav bounded up to him and it was her appearance that made him realise that at least a year passed. Her face looked less child-like, she grew several inches taller, her voice became a little deeper. She was wearing a navy velvet coat with a high collar, her shirt had beautiful mother-pearl-buttons, with navy trousers tucked into soft, iridescent-looking boots. Her blonde hair was curled and swept up, held together with intricate bejeweled butterfly clips.

“How long has it been?” he asked, not really feeling like making small talk, but wanting to have a sense of how much time actually passed.

“Well, I saw you last when I was 12. So, a little over two years.”

Her smile turned into a frown as she took in his appearance. “Are you okay? That’s a stupid question. Of course you are not. You don’t look okay. Here, take a potion.”

When Tav lifted her hand, he flinched away. It was just reflex; Astarion knew that she wouldn’t strike him. Tav frowned, her arm falling to rest at her side.

“I don’t need it. I can’t talk,” he swallowed and straightened, not looking in her direction. “Not tonight.”

“Oh,” she paused, nodding her head, and slipping the potion back into her bag. “I mean sure, you must be busy. Don’t have time to listen to me go on and on. I will leave you be.”

Astarion walked off, feeling Tav’s eyes on his back until he rounded the corner.

Astarion pressed his back against the stone wall. He balled his hands into fists, not minding that his sharp nails dug into his skin. He took a breath, not that he needed it, but somehow concentrating on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest helped. It didn’t let his mind wander to dark, dangerous places. Turning his attention to some form of action helped well enough for now.

The vampire heard swearing and drunken laughter to his right and this brought him back to task at hand. Perhaps if he did well, brought enough people back to Cazador, he would be able to sleep in the dormitory with the other spawn tonight. No chance of doing well enough to be the favourite, of course, but at least it meant that his next tete-a-tete with Godey wouldn’t be too soon.

And so Astarion prowled the night, a deadly predator, a merciless hunter. Or so he kept telling himself. Because repeating it like a mantra in his mind might just make it true. Not quite himself, but good enough. Good enough, all things considered.

Astarion tensed and turned around. He felt them before he saw them. Two of his siblings approached, Leon and Violet. Leon he could tolerate, he hated Violet.

“So, little Astarion, how is Cazador’s golden boy fairing?” Violet mocked, coming up to stand too close to him for his comfort.

“You must be joking, sister dearest” he took a step back involuntarily, wanting to put more distance between them. “We all know Leon is the favourite.”

“Yes,” she clicked her tongue mockingly, “but if I recall correctly, Cazador prefers your sweet screams to anyone else’s. Such an honor, such a privilege to please your master at least in this way,” she said slowly, savoring the look on his face as Leon too approached him and they had him cornered.

Astarion scowled. Fights among spawn were not exactly common, as their primary goal was to bring back as many victims as they could without getting into each other’s way, but they did happen. Cazador would even chastise them, as if they were errant senseless children, but Astarion could see the sadistic glint in his eyes. The vampire did not want his spawn uniting against him, he wanted them hungry, cornered and competing with one another. And having recently gone through months of humiliation, being degraded and beaten, the hatred the spawn felt towards their master fueled their aggression towards each other. It seemed that this fight was happening no matter what Astarion said to them.

“Hey, you two!” Tav’s voice pierced the night.

Shit.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Tav was a little out of breath, but otherwise trying to stand tall and look somewhat intimidating. Violet sized up the lanky teen staring fearlessly at her with a smile that could not lead to anything but blood.

“Oh, look Leon. A little snack. How nice of her to come to us so we don’t have to chase her down.”

“You two better stay away, or else,” Tav’s eyes narrowed, her lips set in a thin line.

“Ooh, the creature dares to threaten us, how amusing,” Violet laughed prettily. “Tell me, brother dearest, is this to be one of your besotted victims? Wouldn’t want to tread on your toes and steal your target,” she mocked, walking closer to Tav, Leon circling the girl from the other side.

Leon appraised the child looking at them in defiance. As hard as he worked for their master, bringing the most victims to the palace, he always hated bringing in children.

“Leave her, Violet. Can’t you see from the way she is dressed that she must be from Upper City? Watch yourself. Unless you want to be thrown in the kennels for disobeying Cazador.”

“That was a mistake. I didn’t realise that that human was a noble. And it was a long time ago and you know it,” Violet growled menacingly, not looking away from her potential target. “Besides, a child disappearing because she snuck out from home in the middle of the night is a tragedy, yes, but it’s quite plausible.”

“I am not afraid of you! Leave!” Tav tried to sound commanding, but Astarion could hear her heart beating wildly, as could his siblings.

“You should be,” Violet grinned a little too wide.

Something clicked in Tav’s mind. Fangs, out only during the night, blood-red eyes.

“You-you are-” she swallowed forcibly, stopping herself from stating the obvious.

“We are what?” Violet mocked, taking a deliberate step towards the child. Oh, how delicious it was to inspire fear in others and to be in control or the situation so completely, what an intoxicating rush to see someone cower before her.

“Standing right where I want you to. Te occludo oculos!”

Colour sparks shot out of her hands, making Violet and Leon withdraw with a hiss.

“Let’s go!” Tav grabbed Astarion’s hand, pushing past her would-be assailants.

Astarion could hear the temporarily blinded spawn curse as they tried to swat at them, but Tav was quick on her feet and dodged the blinded vampires with relative ease, delivering a quick kick under Violet’s knees before darting down the street with Astarion following close after.

*****

“Well, that was fun,” Tav managed to say, still trying to catch her breath. She noticed that Astarion was shaking slightly and frowned.

Surely he wasn’t scared of those two idiots? No, Astarion seemed to be miles away and thinking about something else entirely. Perhaps of his master – Cazador. She remembered the name from when they spoke last. Astarion probably thought that she didn’t notice when he let the name slip, but she catalogued it in her mind. Not having much to do apart from her lessons came with its perks. Such as finding out that Cazador Szarr had a palace down in the Lower City. She still could not go there, but one day, perhaps. One day she would know exactly where to look for Astarion.

He was still quiet, just looking ahead, as if he wasn’t really standing here with her.

“So… you are a vampire,” she began cautiously. “Well, I guess it makes sense why you always stay in during the day.”

They were quiet for a while, Tav looking at him for any signs that he heard her. With the moonlight reflecting off alabaster skin, his chest not rising and falling, Astarion looked like a beautiful marble statue. Exquisite, but quite lifeless.

“That’s it? No shouting for help? No fear?” Astarion finally said wearily, not looking at Tav but at least seeming to acknowledge her.

“I always knew something was off with you, just didn’t know what it could be,” Tav admitted without missing a beat. “Besides, being a vampire sounds awesome. I’ve read that you can do all sorts! Climbing up walls, having super strength, all the other cool things!”

He snorted. If only he was capable of half of the feats that were supposed to come easy to him.

“I’m a spawn, silly girl. Hardly the same as being a full vampire. And you shouldn’t believe all the rubbish that you read in trashy, second-rate novels.”

Besides he was a very underfed spawn. So even if he was capable of ‘all sorts’ he wouldn’t know it.

“Earlier. That was a very idiotic, stupid thing to do,” he licked his lips, forcing himself to stay in the moment and not to spiral, “Thank you.”

“Course,” she cocked her head to the side and smiled warmly. “That’s what friends are for. They protect each other.”

Astarion scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t recall this arrangement being upgraded to friendship and do not think that I want that.”

Her smile slipped a little. “Sorry. For assuming, I mean. But I am not sorry for protecting you. You would do the same for me,” she said softly yet firmly, set in her belief.

He really wouldn’t. If it was her in trouble, he would have left her in a heartbeat. The unsettling thought made him grimace. But how could this slip of a girl, this- this foolish creature even begin to comprehend what horrors would befall him if he showed any sign of disobedience?

“Hey, want to hear a joke?” Tav interrupted his internal monologue suddenly with her ridiculous suggestion.

“Not particularly.”

“I will take that as a yes,” she grinned. “What do vampires wish others? Have a fang-tastic day!” she chortled but stopped when she saw the flat look Astarion was giving her.

“As far as jokes go, this was bad,” he said with a deadpan expression.

Apparently, this was not enough to discourage her. “Aww, was it really so bad? I think it was simply un-fang-gettable!”

Astarion scoffed. “That was even worse. I’m leaving.”

“Why? Am I becoming a pain in the neck? FYI, I have a bloody good sense of humor!”

Astarion turned and walked away, Tav having trouble to keep up with his long strides as she followed close behind.

“Wait up! I’m sorry, I was just trying to get you to lighten up a bit.”

“With terrible jokes?” he stopped and quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, it worked! Kind of? At least you don’t look so shaken up anymore.”

That was true. Her woefully inadequate attempts at humor distracted him well enough.

Astarion felt slender fingers ghost over his hand as Tav lifted it gently, running her fingers over his knuckles. He was not sure why, but he let her.

“Where is your ring?”

Ah, that was taken away. He couldn’t remember when exactly. He wasn’t allowed to own anything, none of them were. Just the clothes on their backs and the bare minimum that was required to make themselves presentable.

“Astarion, how bad is this Cazador?” she looked at him with a soft, worried expression. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. Does he make you stay? You aren’t leaving because you can’t?”

Astarion was not sure that anyone ever treated him with such care. Part of him wanted to lash out at her. Because he was not used to this, to have someone be nice to him just for the sake of it. He did not want to have friends, had no need for them, but perhaps the idea wasn’t that distasteful.

He supposed there was no harm in telling her. He did not have any pride left to preserve at this point. And so he told her the child-friendly(ish) version of how he was turned. Of what he could remember of being a magistrate, his hubris, his downfall, his never-ending nightmare. He left out the part about what actually happened to his victims. He could not bring himself to think about it and did not want Tav to be privy to that knowledge either. He wasn’t really talking to Tav, but rather at her. It felt… He wasn’t sure how it felt, but it soothed his frazzled nerves somehow.

She was uncharacteristically silent when he finished speaking. He shifted in his place as Tav regarded him with an unreadable expression. He did not necessarily care what she thought of him, but he loathed the thought that someone would see him the way he saw himself. A monster incapable of redemption. Unworthy of it.

“I never told you this, but the reason I saw you in the street when we first met was because I almost never sleep at night.” Tav spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing her words. “I- I don’t sleep much anyway, but when I do, I always try to rest when it is light. And it is not because I’m afraid of the dark.”

“I get these dreams,” she paused, hugging herself, her fingers leaving marks on the delicate velvet of her sleeves. “It is pitch black, so dark you wouldn’t be able to see your hand if you held it up, but it feels soothing. Right, almost.”.

Tav shivered involuntarily, but soldiered on, although it seemed difficult for her to put what she wanted to say into words.

“I hear a voice, calling me, beckoning me to come, to become the darkness. To answer its call. Accept my heritage, whatever that heritage is. And then I get this vile feeling, like it’s going to change me so much, so horribly that I will never be myself again.”

She took a couple of steadying breaths before continuing.

“So, what I am saying is this. They do not decide who we are, their will does not make us monsters or whatever else they want us to be. So, we have to stay strong and wait till the right moment to give them the most glorious, dramatic ‘fuck you’ ever by ruining whatever plans they have,” she said with a determined look in her eyes.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the girl’s words. “Only a child would actually believe this. ‘Stay strong, it’s going to be all right.’ It is what healers tell those who they know are dying. What is the use of blind faith?”

“You just wait and see. I know I’m right. And I promise I will help you. I will.”

He gave a shallow laugh. “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep.”

“I mean it,” she lifted her chin and levelled him with a look that indicated that she was set in her resolve to help him. “Sooner or later, one way or another, I will keep my promise. You will be free.”

She had such conviction in her eyes, such faith in her abilities, in him. It was almost painful to see such resolve, knowing that she could never make good on her promise. Still, this slither of hope was more than he got over the years. Perhaps if he held onto that, he would be able to carry on a little longer.

Tag list: @ninty900 @ayselluna @dajeong

19 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 3 days

Text

I knew wild seggs could lead to this!!! 🫣🤭 But appreciating life thoo 🤭

Instinct

Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.

Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next. Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.

She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.

Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.

And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?

They should have thought better!

Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was.

But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.

She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.

Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.

“Astarion?”

She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.

He looks like a vampire.

Like a vampire on a hunt.

His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated.

Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.

He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.

Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.

But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.

Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.

If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.

She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit.

“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.

“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.

“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”

She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.

And then he starts ripping her clothes off.

Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.

With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.

He pulls away studying her face.

“On your knees.”

Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.

“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.

He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.

Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.

Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.

His thrusts are rough and so are his touches.

Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.

She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.

Slap.

His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.

“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.

He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.

And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.

This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore.

“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts.

“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.

His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her.

Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap.

She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.

Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.

“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”

“All yours.”

Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.

As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.

When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.

She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.

Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.

She needs to bathe.

Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully.

And repaired.

She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her.

Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.

“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”

“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”

Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.

“How much did I sleep?”

“Almost a day.”

Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.

“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”

Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”

“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.

“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”

She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone.

Then Tiriel looks into the water.

“How much did you drink yesterday?”

“A lot.”

Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.

“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”

Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.

“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”

“Tyrant.”

“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”

Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”

“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”

Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.

“I'm just sick! Aaah!”

Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.

Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.

“Put me on the ground.”

“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”

“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”

“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”

Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.

“What happened, Tiriel?”

“I am fine! My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”

Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month.

And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire.

“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”

The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”

The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.

“What’s the fuck is that?”

“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”

“I am… what?”

“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”

“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”

“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”

Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.

“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”

Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.

“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”

And Tiriel confesses.

“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.

“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”

Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.

“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”

Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.

She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant.

Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.

Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.

She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.

These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures.

Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.

He despises himself for his fear and doubts.

His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.

Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.

He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.

Even with a monster child.

He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.

And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.

No, it’s not like her.

Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility.

He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.

But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.

Suddenly he hears a loud cry.

He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.

A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!

The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.

“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”

“What? No, I just heard the cries.”

“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”

Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.

Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.

“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.

“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.

Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.

Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.

“I knew you would be back.”

“I am sorry. I was scared.”

“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”

“I know, love. I will never do this again”

Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”

“I don’t know.”

They lie in silence holding each other in their hands.

“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”

Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”

“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles.

“Ours will be lovely too.”

Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”

Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.

“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”

Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate.

Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.

In the best and scariest way possible.

He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl. -- Tag list

@tugoslovenka

@herstxrgirl

@herdarkestnightelegance

@vixstarria

@not-so-lost-after-all

@marcynomercy

@theearthsfinalconfession

@starlight-ipomoea

@micropoe10

@astarion-imagine-archive

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress

@fayeriess

@lumienyx

@tallymonster

@caitlincat-95

@tragedybunny

@valeprati

@lynnlovesthestars

@marina-and-the-memes

@waking-eyes

@ayselluna

@connorsui

@asterordinary

@darkarchangel96

@locallegume

@brainfullofhotsauce

@coffeeanddonutscafe

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen

@queenofthespacesquids

@ednaaa-04

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

#bg3 fluff #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #oc tav tyrael #astarion bg3 #tav oc #astarion x barbarian tav

142 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 3 days

Text

FINALLY THE WEDDINGG!!!

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 13: …because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The special day arrives.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

Ban stared at the gowns laid before her. There were three, in contrast to Astarion’s four suits. He’d hired several painters to sketch out portraits, some in the days before the event and some on the day itself. Today.

The maid braiding her hair tugged at a strand a little too tightly, but she barely noticed. On the opposite end of the room, Gale entered.

”Ah. Ban.” He nodded. “Just picking up the suits.” He reached for them, hanging from a coatstand near the doorway, but had to pause to shove away the silver-curl-topped head that threatened to poke through the door. “No peeking, Astarion! Don’t make me put up wards!”

Ban stifled a laugh as she heard a low growl, a chuckle, and then the sound of steps stalking away.

”He’s impatient,” Gale grinned, finally gathering all four ensembles in his arms. “But you already knew that.”

”You’d think he wouldn’t be, considering we’ve seen each other in these outfits before.” She remembered posing for portraits, having to hold poses stiffly - not a new occurrence, but they’d worn these outfits for them. It had felt… odd, seeing herself in wedding finery, white silks and embroidered fabrics. She was more comfortable with wearing more extravagant clothing now, but some of these outfits were well beyond what she was accustomed to. She’d imagined marrying someone, of course, but she’d figured it would be one of her father’s arranged events - a son of some fellow merchant or someone of import. Never had she considered it would be someone she’d actually love.

Not until the nautiloid, she supposed. She brought the old fantasy to mind.

Astarion in a crisp white suit, the color matching his hair. He’d smile at her, waiting for her as she walked down the aisle. The sun would shine on both of them somehow, but the tadpole would be gone - how this would be possible, she’d never thought to consider. He’d beam, his fangs making an appearance as she approached, and he’d offer her his hand, which she would take. She would be the happiest woman in Faerûn.

Another tug on her hair, and Ban sighed, opening her eyes. Their wedding would be at sunset, which meant a whole day of not seeing each other. The last time they hadn’t been glued to each other’s side was - she brushed the thought away.

Irrelevant. It will never happen again.

She instead allowed her eyes to gaze into the mirror, watching herself. She was still in her silken robe, a rich royal purple, but her eyes were locked onto her own. Still black, miraculously. Still her. She absently opened her mouth, a finger pulling her lip up to see her fangs for the first time. They weren’t anything impressive, and she sighed, letting go of her lip.

The maid doing her braids looked at her in the mirror. “You are still lovely, madam. Even if you are…” she trailed off.

Ban chuckled nervously. “I never was. But thank you.”

“That most certainly isn’t what our lord thinks,” the maid said amusedly. She resumed her work and left Ban to ponder her words.

Gale walked in to find Astarion preening in front of a mirror, styling his hair. He wordlessly hung the suits one by one. The to-be-groom seemed perfectly level, fingers carefully raking through and arranging the silver curls into their usual perfectly-coiffed style, but Gale could see the slight tremor in his hand.

“How is she doing?” His eyes remained fixed on his reflection, his voice calm with only the faintest tremble. “I need to remind her to clasp the back of her cape properly, else the whole thing hangs off-center. There are six buttons she has to do; three on each side. One of them is rather tricky - the holes are hidden in-”

“She is perfectly fine. Her maids will attend to her clothes. There’s no need to be concerned about a malfunction.” Gale waved him off dismissively, and Astarion sighed.

“Fine. Do you have the rings, at least?”

Gale patted his pocket. “Of course.”

“Be a dear and don’t lose them.”

Gale noted the irritability, but the nervousness behind Astarion’s tone was obvious. “I’ll try not to. If I do misplace them, however, don’t drink me dry, please?”

At Astarion’s irritated huff, Gale laughed and left him with a final quip of, “Don’t fiddle with your hair too much, Astarion, she may change her mind if she sees you with frizz. Positively hideous.”

They were both laughing as Gale exited, closing the door behind him.

They met in the gardens.

She walked down the small steps to see a figure in white, hair shining in the dying light of the sun. He was fidgeting with the buttons on his cuffs, huffing as he struggled to fit the buttons into the holes.

He was turned away from her, and did not notice her approach.

“Astarion?”

Her voice startled him, and he turned to face her. He swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

”Ban. Do you mind-” He held his sleeve up.

She approached him, taking his hand carefully and began to fit the buttons through. As she did she eyed him, meeting his gaze. He offered her a quick smile.

”Thank you.” He drew her close, hands settling around her waist to tug her to him. “I missed you.”

”It’s been…” she frowned, “less than eight hours since we last saw one another.”

”Doesn’t mean I can’t pine for my wife, does it?” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and exhaled, a long, drawn-out release of air that told her all she needed to know. “Even a minute of your absence is excruciating.”

She placed her hands on his back, rubbing gently. “You weren’t missing me. You’re nervous.” He raised his head, eyes narrowed. “Which is perfectly fine,” Ban added quickly before he could get a word in edgewise.

His brows smoothed out and he acknowledged her words with a stiff nod. “That does not mean both could not be true.”

”I guess you’re right.” She gently placed a hand on his cheek, watching the tension melt from his features as he leaned into the touch. “Any second thoughts? You still have time to say no, you know.”

“Of course not.” He scoffed, eyebrows knitting back together. “I disappear for a few hours, and you fill your head with the silliest of notions. Which of us can’t manage mere hours without the other, hm?”

”It was a joke.” She pecked his cheek.

His shoulders sagged and his features softened. “I am aware. It’s simply… difficult, comprehending being…” he threw both hands up, gesturing at them and the garden around them, “here. I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking of having a future at all - let alone this one.”

“Even during our adventuring days?”

Astarion pursed his lips, pensive. “At the start I assumed we would all part ways, or die.”

“Astarion,” Ban frowned, “we were seeing each other!”

“And I thought I was using you,” he answered without hesitating. “Later on there was the threat of Cazador and the Absolute, not to mention the rite itself. I did not have room to consider what life would be past those events.” He frowned and his eyes flicked away. “We’re both painfully aware of what happened after that, of course.”

“My love,” she murmured, the sobriquet slipping from her lips; she realized she never really used them, almost never outside sex. His eyes met hers, widening in surprise and then joy, and quietly chastised herself for not using them more. “I know. We both know. We’re also past that.”

He exhaled. “I am aware.” She could tell he was still tense, whether it be because of the mention of those six months, or the wedding itself. She placed a hand over his breast, felt the hammering there, and sighed.

Leaning forward, and on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Look at me?”

He did so, a chagrined smile on his face. He dipped his head. “Just… nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. Nothing will change. It’s just a ceremony, a soiree, like any other, and that’s all it is. Paperwork. It doesn’t have to matter if you don’t want it to. If that helps calm your nerves.”

Astarion scanned her face, then shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know this isn’t mere theatrics to me. I refuse to belittle it that way.” He took a small, aborted breath. “So little of my life has meant anything. Let this mean something, Ban. Let me be nervous and excited. Let me feel this, because it means everything to me.”

His mind touched hers, disparate thoughts flitting through. Redemption, finally. Joy, that he had been chosen by her, wanted by her. Worthy to be the one waiting as she walked down the aisle. Worthy of being the man she’d bind herself to. Enough.

She smiled, her thumb tracing his cheekbone. “Of course it means something, and of course I want you to feel it as I do. I merely meant, well. If that sort of thinking would help ease your nerves, then it might be useful.” He leaned into her touch, eyes shuttering as his shoulders finally lowered. She drew in close, pressing their foreheads together; she on tiptoes and him bending down to accommodate her.

He exhaled, the warm air rushing over her face. She saw his lips part and kept her peace, waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you,” he finally mouthed, eyes still firmly shut. The hammering beneath her palm quieted some, and she pressed her lips to his.

There were flowers everywhere. Roses of every shade adorned each side of the aisle. The archway that they would stand under was just as she’d envisioned. She had known how it would look, had arranged everything with the florists, but seeing it all in its full glory as she peeked through a window sent a thrill down her spine.

Everyone she knew and loved was there, mingling as they prepared to take their seats - everyone save one. He was sequestered away, just as she was, in preparation for the ceremony. She caught a quick glimpse of Karlach fidgeting with her dress and Halsin looking uncomfortable in an old suit.

There was a knock at the door. She called out to an invitation to come in and it opened, revealing Wyll.

“The blushing bride.” He held out his arms and Ban stood for a tight hug.

As Wyll pulled away she looked out at the crowd, watching as they began to take their seats. “Who knew, hm?”

He stood beside her, crossing his arms. “Who knew, indeed.” He caught her gaze and offered a smile. “Shadowheart filled us in on everything that happened. A lot passes you by when you’re stuck in Avernus.”

“I don’t doubt that. Have you talked to Astarion?”

“A little, this morning.” Wyll ran a hand over a horn. “He seemed glad that I approached him, but his mind was elsewhere. I don’t blame him.”

“He’s happy you’re all here,” Ban offered. “I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d get to see you two again after the reunion.”

“In much happier circumstances, too,” he nodded. “We’re glad to be here. Perhaps the next wedding will be ours.”

Ban blinked twice. “Does Karlach know?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be anytime soon, but closer than she and everyone else thinks. I figure with our lives being so full of danger, she might want some time to settle after we’ve fixed her heart.”

“Well, if you need anything,” she said, clapping his shoulder, “you can always ask me. Or Astarion, for that matter.”

Wyll offered her another shy smile. “I’ll go ahead. Tell everyone to prepare. Shadowheart will come for you when it’s time.”

She nodded and Wyll left, leaving her to her thoughts. Not that there were any other than the present, the seconds seeming to tick by extremely slowly. Her mind wandered aimlessly, refusing to focus on any one thing for very long in an attempt to avoid thinking of how nervous she was starting to feel.

Ban had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like mere seconds later when a bouquet was pressed onto her hands. Numerous people were suddenly checking her hair and makeup one last time and smoothing her dress into place. She took a nervous breath, keeping her eyes fixed upwards as she felt tears begin to pool. Crying would ruin the kohl.

“Take a deep breath.” Shadowheart’s hand on Ban’s shoulder startled her and she jerked, head snapping around to lock eyes with her friend.

“Is… Is it time?” Ban shuffled nervously, making sure to not step on the train of her gown.

“He’s waiting for you.” Shadowheart gathered most of the train, and they made their way out of the room. As they approached the main garden Ban swallowed; she could hear the music increasing in volume with every step.

She stopped in her tracks, Shadowheart almost tripping over the dress behind her. “I-” Ban turned to face her.

“This is it,” she choked out; tears filled her eyes and she blinked, trying to not let them fall. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It was a trite ceremony, and they were already eternally bound. She could think about the significance of it all later, when there were less eyes on her.

But she remembered his words, remembered him asking her to let it matter. She wanted to touch his mind, but they had agreed not to.

No cheating, he’d told her, after they’d had their final pre-wedding kiss earlier today. I want to feel it the way it was meant to be felt.

She’d understood what he meant. To experience it as if they were not vampires with a mental bond. As if they were just them.

Shadowheart approached her, carefully dabbing her tears away before they could spill. “We’ve faced worse, and you did it all fearlessly. You can do this.”

Ban nodded. “I know. I just…”

Feel it. She took one deep breath.

Shadowheart squeezed her hand one last time. “Walk as soon as your music starts.” She went ahead, taking her place next to Gale to walk down the aisle with him.

She stood there for a painful few minutes, hidden from view by a hedge. The music started, the song she’d picked for herself. Steeling her nerves, Ban took one last breath and walked to the aisle.

The setting sun hit her eyes first, blinding her for a moment. Her vision cleared and she saw the same roses, the same aisles, the same ivy-wrapped archway, but the seats were now full of people watching her. The music wasn’t quiet at all, but it was completely drowned out by her racing heart.

Her eyes locked onto that familiar glint of silver, the crimson of his eyes burning into her even from this distance. He had his hands clasped together, his face carefully neutral, shifting into an uncertain, boyish smile as their eyes met. Time froze. Nothing else mattered. Not Ulder standing by Astarion, not Gale holding the ring box in his hands. Not the music, nor the artists quickly sketching off to the side. Not the scent of roses or the blazing sunset. Not one other thing existed. Just him.

She took a step onto the red carpet. Then another. She could feel the slight drag of the train of her dress, requiring slightly more effort to place one foot in front of the other. She could feel the bite of the heeled shoes, a little tight, on her feet, and the subtle change in her posture to accommodate walking with an elevated heel. The feel of the satin ribbon holding the bouquet together contrasted with the rougher stems of the flowers it bound. The gown’s fabric slid against her body, shifting with every move.

Her mind registered all this, part of her begging to dwell on these trivial sensations, to hide behind her walls again.

We don’t cry. Not in public. Not like this. Not where everyone can see.

Her father’s words. Not hers.

Instead, she allowed herself to feel.

Every step brought her closer to the archway - to him. His smile was slightly wider now, but his eyes were wide and misty. She remembered everything - nights under the shelter of their tent, cuddled by the campfire, the soft press of his lips against her temple. Strong, slender fingers grasping her wrist, tugging her away from whatever trap she had missed in her rush. Those same capable hands undoing the straps of her breastplate, a small huff of annoyance as the armor snagged on her underclothes, tearing them, knowing those same hands would repair them later that same night. The scent of bergamot and rosemary, clinging to her clothes as they parted for the day, something she’d imagined she could still smell even under her armor. The sound of his voice, always the first one she sought out; his thoughts, his quips, even the playful little insults he’d throw her way.

Then more recently, their hands clasped in meetings, sly glances and hidden smirks as they mentally discussed the people they were making deals with. The press of his lithe body against hers as they twirled around the dance floor, leading her effortlessly. The heated kisses, his lips trailing a fiery path from her lips to her breasts, his hands tangled in hers. Breathless moans, whispered promises of eternal love - no longer only promises, but truth. Seeing his face every dawn, reaching across the bed and always finding him there, every time without fail, whether he was watching her or reading a book or sipping tea-

Astarion gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she smiled in return. The tears finally fell, wet as they traced a path down her cheeks, but she was beyond caring. She took a few more steps, bringing her closer to him - to her fate, to everything that had ever mattered and the only thing that ever truly would.

Hers. Hard-fought and almost lost, but hers now, for however long their immortal lives lasted - forever, she vowed, and even beyond.

She stopped. Faced him. He swallowed, his smile fading as he took a step towards her, his hand held out for hers. It was a gesture they’d made countless times, in countless ways - helping each other up in combat, in camp, at breakfasts and dinners and meetings and parties - but this felt like the first time. She placed her hand on his, feeling the skin under hers, smooth and trembling, but still the same. Always.

They stood side by side as Ulder recited the rites. None of it was anything she’d remember, she thought. Her eyes were on him, from the perfectly coiffed hair to the slightly-trembling hands clasped behind his back, to the embroidery on his shoes. She reached out, and to her relief he noticed and responded in kind, even though his eyes never left Ulder. His index finger touched her first, gently tracing the back of her hand. His lips curled at the corner, his eyes crinkling even as his gaze remained ahead. Ban slipped her hand into his and felt him squeeze.

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunín, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

For the first time since the ceremony began his eyes moved over her. They were large, wet, and painfully beautiful. He shot her a grin before turning back to Ulder. “I do.” The hand holding hers was cold, and she fought back the urge to reach over and rub warmth back into it.

The same question was leveled at her. She met Ulder’s gaze while he spoke, but made sure her eyes were locked on Astarion’s as she uttered her response. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly at her words, eyes flicking downwards for the briefest of seconds, then settling back on her face.

Then Gale approached, the rings kept in a small, ornate box. He opened the lid, offering it up to Astarion, who nimbly took her ring in his hands. He playfully bounced the ring on his knuckle, to the crowd’s delight, then looked at her.

“I am not prone to… long speeches, or poetry, for that matter,” Astarion began, the ring passing between his thumb and index finger as he fidgeted with it. “Nor am I the kind of person who usually appreciates public declarations of love. However, with you I could enjoy anything, and that includes this.”

His hand drifted down, patting his hip anxiously. “You probably weren’t the best leader, likely not even the best companion - I’d wager Wyll wins out over everyone in that regard.”

Ulder laughed; Ban glanced over at Wyll, who gave her a small wink. Astarion continued. “Back then… you tended to make frankly foolhardy decisions - thought with your blade rather than your brain… except when it came to me. With me…” he paused, thinking, “you seemed to think with your heart. Yet another foolish thing to be doing at such a time, darling, but I very much appreciated it.”

“I cared little for you at the start. In truth I didn’t know how to care for anyone, and certainly didn’t think anyone could care for me… despite my dashing good looks.” He huffed out a high-pitched laugh, one she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. He grew somber then, and continued. “But I quickly grew to love you. I grew to treasure every single moment we spent together, from camping out in the wilderness to the most mundane arguments about which vase would match the drapes. We’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of tribulations in our time together, but look at us.” He gestured at her and then himself. “We held on to one another, through every challenge. We have worked so hard to be the people we are today. To seize this happiness for ourselves and for one another.”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the curls as his fingers carded through them. “And while there’s little doubt we’ll run into more trouble, because of course,” he rolled his eyes. “I do so knowing that you will be with me for all of it. Knowing that my every sunrise and sunset will be spent with you. Knowing that…” his breath caught, and Ban squeezed his hand. He swallowed. “that after two centuries… I am finally enough, the way that I am. Perhaps quite a bit more than enough at times, darling,” he chuckled.

Astarion straightened up. “But now that I am enough… I stand here today and I vow to love you forever. For the rest of time, even when the sun burns out and we give ourselves to the night. When we face whatever lies beyond - I vow to love you then too.”

His hand took hers, slipping the ring onto her finger. It did not meet much resistance, the cold metal settling in place easily. They both looked down at it, at how it seemed to belong there, as if it had always been there but just out of sight.

Gale’s movement brought her back to the moment. The box was held out to her, and she took Astarion’s ring. It was larger than hers, heavier, with a slightly thicker band, and with engraving identical to hers. She looked at him and saw the same hunger in his eyes as the day she’d asked him to marry her, that ravenous need clear in the set of his features.

“I wasn’t… born for this. Not for any of it. My life was supposed to be one of quiet subservience, to be what I was raised to be. I left that behind, and then I thought my life would be one of unassuming simplicity. Not… not these gardens. Not this palace, or the journey we all had. Not immortality. Not you.” She bit her lip, a fang catching on it. “I think we were both done a great favor the day the nautiloid took us. It brought me to you, and you to me.”

“The way fate works is something I don’t pretend to comprehend. I don’t think any god looked kindly on us before that day,” she snuck a glance at Withers, who merely nodded, “but neither do I think it was mere chance. We were… meant to be here. Meant to meet, meant to go through everything we did and everything else we will encounter. Each meant for the other,” she added, watching his lips curl as he acknowledged her words.

“You waited far too long for me, while I did not have to wait long at all. There’s no compensation that can make up for all that,” and she shook her head as he opened his mouth, “but I hope that I can at least begin to… I don’t know, ease it.”

She looked down at the ring in her hand. It felt easier to say the words then, without meeting his gaze. “There are not enough words to express the depth of my love for you, and I fear there never will be. I have never been good at baring my heart, but if there was ever a moment to do so anyway it would be this one. I could say I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life, and it would be true, but somehow it fails to express the sheer magnitude of my feelings for you.” She dared glance up to Astarion and was rewarded by an encouraging nod. “I vow from this day on to love you, to cherish you, and to see you. Even when it gets hard, even when it takes work to do so. I promise to do better, as you have done. I shall be your rock, your support, your comfort whenever you need me. Until the sun burns out, and through whatever lies beyond, I am yours. For as long as we exist, I vow to be your home, as you are mine.” She finally met his gaze and thanked herself for not fully looking up sooner. He looked so beautiful.

Astarion held his hand up, his fingers quivering visibly. He was smiling, but it was a bit frozen, almost forced in his anxious excitement. His eyes were too bright and wet, and she realized the trembling wasn’t just his hand but his whole body. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and hide him away from everyone else, to keep him in the shelter of her embrace until his nervousness abated.

She slid the ring onto his finger.

Astarion cleared his throat. “Wrong finger,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. She stammered out a quick sorry, moving the ring from his middle to his ring finger.

The moment the ring slid home, Ulder spoke up. “It is with great honor that I pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Ancunín, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”

Instantly, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close. He pressed their bodies together, and slipped his hands down, linking them under her ass. He gripped her tightly, lifting her up. She wound her hands around his neck, the silken fabric of his collar pleasant against her skin.

His mouth slotted against hers, his plush lips pressing against her own. He groaned softly as she leaned further into the kiss, his tongue seeking to explore her. She parted her lips for him and the approving hum that answered her sent shivers down her spine. His teeth caught her lower lip, dragging over it and eliciting a quiet moan from her. She heard whistling from somewhere in the crowd and finally pulled away, embarrassed. He set her down but didn’t let go of her.

Astarion simpered for the crowd, but his eyes were still damp and round. He offered her his arm and she gratefully accepted, leaning against him as they walked back down the aisle, finally husband and wife.

Astarion sauntered over to where Ban stood in front of the enchanted mirror, fighting with the clasps of her capelet, approaching from behind. “Does my wife need aid?” His hands ran over her shoulders to the clasps.

“Probably,” she huffed. “I had so much trouble having them put on. No one really knows how to do it, other than you.”

They were working on their first outfit change of the day, and she knew there would be more. Astarion had insisted on doing so for some variety in the portraits that would be painted today, but Ban also thought it a good idea to convey a sense of decadence and power. She was beginning to regret the pragmatism in that decision, now that she had to deal with the reality of multiple complex and tedious dress changes in a single evening.

He hummed in response, fingers slipping under the ornamentation to undo the buttons. “At the very least they managed to put it on straight. I was worried.”

“Gale did say as much.”

They both watched their reflections as he easily unbuttoned one side, then did the other, allowing the cape to fall to the floor between them. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Do you require more assistance, my love?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Shivering, she turned. “I wouldn’t say no, but I’m surprised you’re offering. The day isn’t quite over yet, Astarion.”

“Is it not? We’re wedded,” he held up his left hand, ring glinting in the candlelight, “and we have more than two hours before the reception starts. I presume we could steal a few minutes.” He closed in, crowding her, foreheads almost touching. “It wouldn’t take long, surely.”

Ban shook her head, reaching back to begin untying the laces of her dress. “We have portraits to pose for. We don’t have time.” She would have loved to; a month apart ensured her resistance was thin, but in that moment her thoughts were with the wedding arrangements. “As much as I want to-”

The words died in her throat as he moaned in her ear, rolling his hips against her thigh. “Certainly it should be up to me when our game ends, don’t you agree, darling? Ten minutes,” he whispered, “is all I would need.”

“Astarion-”

“Please.”

That word and the needy, aggressive tone in his voice undid the last threads of her restraint. She growled, taking a step back to remove the rest of her outfit. His eyes tracked her every move as she stripped the gown off, shimmying out of it gracelessly, shoving it down to her legs and stepping out of it.

“On that table,” Astarion pointed, and she backed up to sit on its edge. He prowled towards her, eyes dark and very much hungry, still fully clothed. His hands parted her legs roughly as he knelt. Their eyes met and she swallowed.

“Ten minutes, Astarion,” she warned weakly.

A dark bark of amusement answered her. “Trust me. I require less than that.”

His hand made its way up her thigh, fingers dancing playfully. He kissed her knee, eyes still locked onto hers. The other hand wrapped around the back of her knee, fixing that leg in place.

“Be a good girl,” he purred, “and be quiet. We don’t want anyone,” he traced her folds through her underwear, then flicked her clit through the fabric, “hearing us, do we?”

“Or walking in.” She took a quick, cursory look. She was pretty sure the door had been locked so they could change; the likelihood of anyone walking in was low.

He sank his teeth into the meat of her thigh, lapping lazily at the blood that formed, then smirked. His thumb ran circles around her clit, no doubt feeling the wetness beginning to soak through the cloth. “That too.”

Her eyes were glued to him as he began kissing his way up her thigh, fangs scraping her skin. He mouthed at her core, the thin cloth leaving too little and yet too much in between his tongue and her. He drew back a hand to undo the buttons of his suit, but his mouth never left her.

She rolled her hips, an insistent, pleading gesture, one hand wrapping around the side of the table as she bit on the other to stifle a moan. He hooked a finger in her underwear, tugging the fabric aside to bare her glistening folds. Red eyes flicked to her face, and he looked ravenous. “I wager you now agree with my assessment?”

“Probably less than ten minutes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Just please. Lick me.”

He nodded, his face perfectly neutral, as if they were merely talking about the weather. “I knew you’d come around.” Keeping his eyes on her, he licked her, his tongue laid flat, from her entrance all the way up, making sure to give her a firm flick where she needed it most.

Ban groaned, spreading her legs further, needing more. Astarion obliged, slipping two fingers into her without meeting any resistance. “You’re deliciously wet, darling. How long have you wanted this? Wanted my tongue on you, wanted me - my fingers or my tongue or my cock, any part of me - inside you?”

She bucked, fucking herself on his fingers helplessly. “Too long,” she whispered. “Far too long.”

“Then I shall reward your patience, my love.” Without another word he dove right back between her legs; his hand spread her open, his tongue running circles around her clit before finally wrapping his lips around it and suckling.

She whined, the sensation momentarily overwhelming, but then he shifted into gentle, loving licks. Even that was intense, her hand instinctively lowering over his head, about to fist into his curls, until she remembered they needed to keep them pristine for the reception. She saw his eyes crinkle at her movement, but his mouth and fingers never stopped their work.

His fingers pumped into her faster, curling to hit her spot with every pass. His tongue lapped harder, the delicious friction making her hips move of their own accord, grinding against him. The fingers spreading her open, the naked, sheer desire in those eyes eating up her every reaction, the way his hips moved desperately in rhythm with his fingers, and the tent in his trousers were sights to behold, sights she had not seen in far too long, and it brought her climax barreling towards her.

“Astarion,” she whimpered, his name a quiet supplication upon the altar of his tongue.

He growled, low and deep in his throat, dragging a fang across her clit. The vibration and the slight sting of his fang sent chills racing along her entire body. She fought the urge to arch, to allow her eyes to roll back, wanting to see it. To see him. Their eyes met, and he cockily raised a brow as he gave her one last, hard flick, perfectly timed with a hard thrust of his fingers.

She bit her hand, fangs inadvertently breaking skin, a loud, muffled scream emanating from her as she came. Her hips jerked and Astarion wrapped a hand around her hip, pressing her closer as he lapped up everything she had to give. As she slowly recovered he kept licking, seemingly unwilling to stop. She could still see his erection straining against his trousers, his hips still slowly rocking.

“I… fuck,” she finally managed to say. She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing gently, feeling slightly oversensitive.

Astarion let go, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face. He wiped his mouth on his cravat, then tugged it off. “Plenty of time to spare, just as I expected.”

Still trembling, Ban barely managed an annoyed glare. She let her eyes stray to the bulge between his legs. “And what about you?”

He looked down, as if noticing his clearly painful erection for the first time. “I think I can wait a little longer.” He adjusted his trousers and took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I simply wanted to end your punishment.”

“As for myself,” he drew in close and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, “I figure I have all night, and eternity after that.”

99 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 3 days

Text

I love these rings! And I'm a sucker for Astarion POVs ✨

Glimpses: True Love's Embrace and True Love's Caress (Part two)

Thank you so so much to @ayselluna and @ladyspacey for requesting a part two. It means so much to me ❤️

Not proofread. Never proofread.

He paces in front of your tent, creating a path in the dirt where his feet dragged. Shadowheart is inside, stitching what she can't heal with Lae’zel’s help. The two of them have gotten close, closer than he expected if their sneaking back from that private clearing was any indication…. He tries to distract himself with that, the gossip, the drama he could create if he told Gale but your voice floats his way and he’s back to thinking about you.

You sound a little hoarse, and you speak barely above a whisper when you tell the girls you’re okay. You lie when they ask what happens, your version of events thankfully matching his own, because he'd been too much of a coward to admit to Gale and Karlach that you were wearing the matching magic rings everyone all but made you swear not to wear, and that Astarion hadn’t noticed until he’d been so lost staring at your perfect breasts that he'd gotten stabbed.

But then, where to start if he told the truth? They’d ask why you would give him the ring, something he wasn't so sure about either. There were multiple possibilities of course, one being that you'd realised he was bloody useless in a fight and decided he was the biggest liability. In order to preserve potions and reviving scrolls, you had casted a warding bond over him. That was the answer he liked best. The one that allowed him to turn the pain, grief and absolute terror bubbling inside him like an unsupervised cauldron into anger.

It wasn’t the correct reason of course, and deep down -- and let’s be honest, not so deep down -- he knew it.

There had been a few nights of passion, a couple of stolen moments of heavy petting when searching for loot or simply when no one was around to look, but these seemed overshadowed by the nights he forwent his meditations in favour of spending your watch by your side, sometimes chatting, sometimes not -- There was never the expectation to entertain you, something which, at first, made him wildly uncomfortable but that he now cherished.

There were the mornings you snuck into his tent to do your makeup in front of the only unbroken mirror in camp. You always tried so hard not to “wake” him, but he’d usually pretend to awaken halfway through you applying powder on your eyes -- Placing the blame on his being up on you was easier to admit he woke up specifically to gaze at you applying creams, powders and lipsticks, but at this point, he figures you know anyway. There’s no need to be subtle with you, no need to steal anything, even moments, when you made it clear through repeated actions that whatever he wanted to take, you would give freely, even your own blood.

There was also the matter of loot. How you stole anything that wasn’t nailed down (and some things that were, in fact, nailed down. You’d stolen the nails too) in order to sell and barter your way towards food, armour, trinkets and Karlach’s ever growing collection of Teddy bears. But as soon as Astarion mentioned he liked something, even if it could be bartered for exactly what they needed at that moment, you would give it to him. He tries to stay quiet now after battles, half so he doesn’t arouse suspicion and half because the last time he spoke up, you gave him the trinket that would have bought you the first meal you’d eaten in nearly three days. And yet, shiny, pretty or even ridiculously ugly things he might like and get a kick out of, keep appearing in his tent -- it used to freak him out, how well you knew him, and it still does sometimes, especially when he admits to himself that this all was meant to be manipulative. He was meant to seduce you to gain favour and protection. Fucking you was his ticket to safety, to salvation. And it did get him that, he guesses, it just wasn’t the safety and salvation he bargained for.

The flaps of the tent part and Shadowheart pops her head out.

“She’s fine to see visitors,” she tells him, “She’s still weak but the noise of your pacing was driving us up the wall.”

“Pardon me for being worried,” he says, dramatically placing a hand over his dead heart in emphasis.

Shadowheart humms sceptically, “Worried she might die, or worried you won’t be able to feed?”

Well, he internally scoffs, at least he still has them fooled.

“Speaking of, you’re on a rat diet until she’s fully healed,” Shadowheart adds as he steps into the tent and she and Lae’zel step out.

He wasn’t even thinking of feeding, even with the blood gushing out of your wound, calling his name with every dwindling heartbeat, he’d fought a surprisingly easy fight against his more feral instincts and brought you back to camp. Nothing but worry for your safety and irrational fury had crossed his mind since your injury.

Irrational fury he was now failing to keep down.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” He whispers through gritted teeth, “You could have died, you absolute fool. Do you think me so incapable of protecting myself?!” He continues, ignoring the fact that you can hear the grief in his voice. The other two can’t, they haven’t spent enough time with him, but you know him inside out.

You stay quiet, much to his absolute fury.

“I am not a child you need to protect, I am perfectly capable of doing this myself,” he adds, grabbing her wrist in his hand, and sliding the ring off your finger. You open your mouth in protest, but he throws the most genuine glare he can muster your way, and you close your mouth again without speaking.

He pockets your ring, and takes off his own, placing both in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Astarion eventually gives you one of them, tucked inside a letter he gives you before the final battle, and that he asks that you keep on you till the end. It’s his own ring, obviously, and he prays it’ll keep you safe even if you're only carrying it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 astarion x tav #bg3 astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 astarion fic #bg3 fic #bg3 drabble

20 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 3 days

Text

This was freaking exquisite debauchery 🔥🔥🔥

Im still thinking twice about the period thing but gods this was just so good that maybe i might say yes soon 🫣

Life Essence🩸

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x namedFemale!Tav (my Tav, Evelyn)

Rating: 18 +, Explicit

Word Count: ~6.5k

Warnings/Tags: Sexually explicit content, period sex, period blood, menstrual symptoms, menstrual discomfort, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage/pregnancy loss, sexually aggressive Astarion, a bit of blood-play, Astarion struggling with intimacy a little bit, tender loving aftercare, slight in-game spoilers (The Underdark)

Summary: Evelyn finds herself without her usual tonics and to subdue her menstrual symptoms just as the party arrives down into the Underdark. With no merchants in sight as of yet, Evelyn realizes she must endure the pains… that is, until her vampire lover offers a more creative solution.

A/N: Just because my revelation on Astarion’s love for period blood was more… scientific, doesn’t mean I don’t believe that Astarion also just adores this because he gets to have sloppy, messy period sex with his lover. ;) Please enjoy my requested take on this delicious trope!

And of course, a massive thanks and shout-out to the best beta-reader a girl could ask for, @herdarkestnightelegance! ✨❤️ always a pleasure to work with you, friend!

________________________________________________________

Oh Gods…

Evelyn froze, the pain blooming from her lower belly seizing her mind and muscles. Her armored boot hung in the air mid-step as she found herself stuck in place, fearing movement would exacerbate the awful pain that rolled through her like a wave.

Please, not now, not now…

“Darling? Why have you stopped? What are you doing?” Astarion stopped as well, raising an eyebrow at her and eyeing her strange pose. Evelyn finished her step, smiling at him sheepishly.

For a moment she considered telling him, but … Gods, it was far too early in their… relationship? Arrangement? Fling? She didn’t know what they had but whatever it was, it was too early to discuss such… delicate subjects with him. Even if it did involve an area of her body he knew very well at this point. She’d had her cycle once before on this journey, but thankfully she’d had the tonics she needed to hide her symptoms and lessen the flow of blood.

“Oh nothing! Sorry, I just uhm… remembered something I was trying to recall earlier today,” Evelyn scrambled to say, her voice unconvincing even to her own ears and her smile awkward. She then turned to address the whole group. “Why don’t we call it quits for the day? Set up camp on that ridge over there?” She pointed to a nearby short plateau overlooking the lake beside a tall crumbling tower. It seemed safe enough to set up a quick camp.

“But we just made it down here? Shouldn’t we move at least a bit farther into the Underdark before we rest again?” Karlach asked.

“Uh- no I think maybe we should be refreshed and ready for all the other creatures we’re bound to run into. I can feel my magic running quite low after dealing with that Beholder,” Evelyn offered pathetically. The other members of the party all glanced at each other, shrugging and nodding with obvious confusion coating their expressions. Except for Astarion, who was looking at her rather sharply. The Godsdamned vampire knew her too well at this point. Evelyn could tell he knew she was lying about something – he just didn’t know what she was hiding.

After what felt like an eternity, the camp was set up, a fire lit, and Evelyn was heartbroken to find she just was not feeling well enough to admire the strange yet enchanting glow and charm of the Underdark. Instead she retired to her tent immediately, politely turning down a hearty dinner from Gale - much to the wizard's surprise - as nausea relentlessly gripped her stomach. What a contrast from the ravenous hunger she’d felt for the last tenday.

Evelyn stripped down to her freckled skin and muttered a quiet curse at her body when she saw just how heavily the crotch of her underwear was soaked a deep, dark red. There went a perfectly good set of underwear – she’d have to be more vigilant in tracking her cycle to avoid losing too many pairs before they arrived at Baldur’s Gate. With a wave of her hand, she conjured some fresh water in a bucket she had stolen from the camp trunk on her way back to her tent and began to soak the ruined undergarments. The linen of her favorite nightshirt was cool against her heated skin as she pulled it over her head, and she was thankful for the icy chill of the Underdark. After putting on a spare pair of underwear, protected by her last clean rag, she made a mental note to collect some moss in the morning to fill the empty pad she had stuffed deep in her pack and huffed a frustrated sigh. Lying back on her bedroll, she prayed sleep would overtake her quickly, if only to spare her being conscious for the cramps that continued to roll through the lower half of her body relentlessly. She stifled a groan of pain as she scrunched her eyes shut. They’d have to find a merchant with a tonic for these pains soon if she was to be able to walk properly and not be a burden to the party.

One thing Evelyn didn’t consider in her rush for comfort though… was the smell of the blood blooming into the water of the bucket in the corner of her tent - and how it might attract the one person she truly wanted to avoid for the night.

It didn’t take long before Astarion, sitting quietly by the campfire with the rest of the party, found his head snapping up, his nose instinctively sniffing the air aggressively like a tracking dog.

Blood. And a concerning amount of it.

His aquiline nose led him to turn towards Evelyn’s summer green tent,fear gripping his mind as he stood without a word, moving quickly to follow the delicious and concerning scent. Why did he smell a large amount of her blood from her tent? Was she hurt? Had she sustained injuries from the Beholder she hadn’t informed anyone about? Godsdamn her altruistic nature, her fear to burden anyone with her needs. If she had been seriously hurt and didn’t tell anyone, especially him, he’d throttle her. He whipped open the flap of her tent without announcing himself, fully ready to rip into her.

“Evelyn Hale, why do I smell-?” he growled before falling silent mid-sentence. Evelyn lay hunched over on her side in the fetal position, her freckled cheeks tear stained. Astarion fell to his knees immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?" His ruby eyes were flitting to each part of his lover’s body in panic, checking for wounds or blood.

Blood.

The smell, it was just so … overwhelming. He felt himself salivating, his hackles dangerously beginning to rise as his instincts fought for dominance. AsEvelyn opened her eyes Astarion’s heart broke at the pathetic sadness, the pain in them. But it did nothing to soothe the beast that snarled within him, desperate to drink every drop of blood he could find. That delicious, fresh blood. As he traced the rest of the tent with his eyes, they came to rest on a bucket in the corner and he wondered why his nose would lead him to a random vessel of dark water. Unless … Was that the blood he was smelling? Had she been soaking her used bandages in it?

“I’m alright, Astarion, just leave – please,” she begged quietly, gripping her abdomen. Fear paralyzed him. Was she pregnant? He’d fucked her well and good several times now but… dhampirs were so statistically unlikely and she’d already told him she’d began taking a tonic to prevent pregnancies after their first night together. But what if …? Hells had he really fucked up that badly with her already? No wait, if she was pregnant there wouldn’t be all this blood… unless… Oh Gods, no…

“Evelyn, tell me what’s ailing you right now, you’re frightening me,” Astarion demanded, his own voice sporting a rare layer of fear. “Should I fetch the cleric?”

His mind began to race. Was it safe for him to be in here with her like this if she was bleeding profusely? Would he be able to resist draining her while exposed to so much of her blood?

Evelyn’s sucked in a gulp of air between her teeth just as another wave of pain gripped her. “I’m fine it’s just… it’s my cycle,” she whimpered, and Astarion felt his tense shoulders drop with relief. “I have horrid pains the first few days and I just… I didn’t want to trouble you with my… monthly issues. I normally have a tonic to manage my symptoms, but I drank my last one back on the surface and we haven’t yet encountered any mercha-,”

“Darling, you really didn’t think Shadowheart would have something for this?!” Astarion interrupted her indignantly.

“Well she has her own cycles! I didn’t want to take away from her supply, what if she needed it?!”

“But you need it now! And besides - it’s not like I haven’t scented both your cycles before! Honestly, why didn’t you tell me?! Why don’t you ever ask for any Godsdamned help?!”

“I’m in pain Astarion, I don’t need this shit right now!”

The two of them were so overwhelmed and desperate, him to aid her in the haze of his hunger and her to simply get him out of the tent, that they were just talking incoherently over each other instead of listening. Astarion began to scramble for ideas, wanting desperately to help her as she helped him most nights, feeding him her blood. Gods, was he that useless? That he couldn’t even help her while she was bleeding profusely from her-

Oh. Ohhhhhh. He knew exactly how he could help.

Astarion couldn’t help the loud laugh that bubbled from his throat as the realization hit him. The panic dissipated from his mind as the irony sunk in. That starving beast within him seemed to simmer as the idea occurred to him. He licked his lips as a different type of hunger began to emerge within him.

Evelyn’s freckled cheeks flushed as she shot him a deep frown before turning her back to him with an angry pout. The childish reaction only encouraged more adoring laughter from him.

“Pet, I’m only laughing at the irony of it all – I should have been the first person you came to.”

Evelyn noticed the sudden change in his tone and half-sat, propping herself up on one hand and stretching out her long legs beside her. She turned to face him over her shoulder before wincing in pain at the cramp the movement elicited.

“Why?”

“Because, my little sorceress, who better to provide you with delicious relief than someone who will gladly… take care of all that delicious blood of yours? I don’t even have to bite you,” Astarion purred with a grin, his eyes sliding down her body to the apex of her thighs.

The blush that overtook the top half of Evelyn’s body, even visible in the tent’s dim light, was so tantalizing to Astarion, it took everything in him not to jump her bones on the spot.

“...What?!”

“Oh, don’t act so scandalized,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “It’s the perfect solution! The pleasure I bring you will help you with those awful pains, you spare yourself a clean rag for the night, and I get to have the meal of my undead life. Tasting both your arousal and your blood simultaneously? I can think of no better treat.” Astarion felt himself growing hard at the thought of that delicious combination. And Evelyn could see that he meant it. her golden eyes snapping down to the proof of his honesty growing rapidly between his legs.

“You… truly want to?” Evelyn asked cautiously. Astarion having his fill of her blood this way would be entirely new territory for her and sharing something new with Astarion was also new territory. He’d gone down on her before but never during her cycle - no one ever had. It wasn’t something her past lovers had ever been interested in… but then again … she’d never had a vampiric lover. She’d never felt so laid bare to anyone before and she would never be able to face him again if it went badly between them after this. So Evelyn supposed this was a very… definitive test of her trust in him.

“Darling,” Astarion sighed seductively. He pulled her hip back down toward him, bringing her to sit fully on the ground with her legs stretched in front of her. In the same fluid motion, he shifted himself to kneel between her legs and leaned forward, beginning to crawl over her like a cat stalking its prey. “I don’t believe I’ve ever wanted anything more…”

Astarion tilted his head to hover his mouth just a hair’s breadth apart from her own. Evelyn’s lids grew heavy, her lungs straining for air as it suddenly grew so very heated in her tent. But despite the heat between them, she could feel the familiar iciness of his skin and breath already cooling her flushed, aching body by just hovering over her. Relief flooded Evelyn at the thought of that frigid tongue anywhere on her body, especially at the source of her pain. She’d never had an outlet for the way her sexual desires always seemed to spike or how painfully sensitive her body became around the start of her cycle. But this felt like far more than an outlet. This, with him… it felt like sinful indulgence.

“Well? What do you say, my love?” Astarion whispered.

That huff of cold breath carrying nothing but words of pure temptation snapped her self-restraint in half. Evelyn crashed her lips against his, shifting her weight to one hand behind her as she used the other to tightly grip into his silver curls, locking him against her. The kiss grew sloppy and open-mouthed quickly as both of Astarion’s hungers enveloped his mind. He felt himself growing feral and growing even harder as his tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her. Her moan was loud, unrestrained, desperate.

Astarion pushed her down onto her back, her head landing with a soft thud on the pillow of her bedroll behind her as he lunged down onto her, immediately suckling and nipping at her earlobe - her favorite weak spot. Their hips rolled against each other forcefully.

“Oh darling, you have no idea how thrilled I am for this,” he whispered in her ear.

Evelyn’s golden eyes rolled back in their sockets as he suckled on that soft, sensitive flesh. Her breath hitched as he brought his mouth down to lick at the scars that were beginning to darken her neck with each passing night. He wouldn’t need them tonight, but it felt wrong not to pay his usual homage to those two little marks on his way to tonight’s meal.

As they worked together to slide her nightshirt off over her head, Astarion could barely manage to restrain his blood- and carnal lust enough to place kisses down her body as he normally did, pulling her underwear down off of her as he migrated down her bare torso. But he knew there was a stop he just had to make. Ruby eyes drank in the sight of Evelyn’s peaked, bright pink nipples before wrapping his lips around one and swirling his tongue in languid circles around the sensitive nub, his cool hand palming the other fully as his fingers dug into the soft flesh to caress that glorious breast - desperately needing to feel every inch of it with his entire hand. Evelyn’s back arched as she reveled in the pleasure shooting throughout her entire body from her over-sensitive nipples. Gods, how his touch made them ache in the most delicious way.

“Oh Gods, Astarion…” she cried out, not realizing how unrestrained the volume of her cries were. She heard someone clearing their throat loudly a small distance away from the tent and her body locked up with embarrassment.

“Ignore them, my darling,” Astarion said against her skin. “It’s just you and I…”

Evelyn waved her hand and with the flick of her wrist, she whispered, “Silencio”, as a purple shield molded itself to the inside of her tent, effectively locking in their shameless sounds of passion. Evelyn knew she wouldn’t be one for restraint tonight if the way her breasts felt in that moment was any indication of the pleasure she was about to enjoy.

“You are just the most resourceful little sorceress, aren’t you, pet?” Astarion purred with a sinister smile. Evelyn only smiled in response, closing her eyes once more to encourage him to return to his ministrations. Astarion eagerly obliged.

Astarion quickly relinquished his time with her breasts to finally focus on the main event of the night for him. As he spread her thighs, his mouth went dry at the sound of her slick folds parting. The sight of her was… exquisite to say the least. Deep, thick, bright red blood coated the folds of her sex, dripping from the entrance of her cunt and staining the fair, freckled skin of her inner thighs. Astarion wondered briefly if this was what love felt like. He brought his face closer to her and shamelessly inhaled the scent of her… of her arousal… of her true lifeblood. Astarion throbbed in his breeches so painfully, his erection so strained and large at the scent that he thought his cock might burst. He took a moment to sit up once more, kneeling between her legs, ripping off his shirt and eagerly unlacing his pants to free that painful erection. He almost cried at the relief it brought him to let his length spring free. As he knelt there, she stared up at him, open and waiting as he dragged his eyes from her own, down her breasts to between her legs…

This was the most erotic moment of Astarion’s existence.

Licking his lips like a predator, he brought his head back down between her legs as he stroked his cock, unable to restrain himself or the pearlescent fluid that leaked off the tip onto the bedroll below. Evelyn watched his hand for a moment, her golden eyes hazy and hypnotized with lust, before finally bringing them up to meet his own ruby irises. She could see it in his eyes… in the dim light of the candle in her tent, the expression in his eyes was darker than she’d ever seen - those rubies practically glowing with hunger, glinting in the candlelight like round, sharp mirrors. Astarion’s mind was charged with pure animal instinct. And she’d never been more excited to be his prey.

The first taste of her was so divine, Astarion thought he’d been staked in the ribs and mistakenly sent to the Heavens. All self-restraint was but a memory as his tongue tore into her. Astarion whimpered and groaned as he dined, his tongue lapping up every single drop of her he could take. He thanked whatever Gods were listening for removing his need for oxygen because he would have gladly relinquished the air he breathed rather than tear himself away from her delicious, bloody cunt.

But although he was eager for the meal, he couldn’t forget his part of the deal as his tongue pressed hard fast into her clit, his lips closing around it and sucking hard on the little bud.

Evelyn jolted upright - Oh, never had she felt something like this before. Could she pass out from pleasure, she wondered, as she laid back down, clawing into his hair with magic instinctively sparking at her fingertips. Gods, Astarion loved when even her magic responded to his touch – the snapping and crackling so loud in his ears, it only egged him on.

Never had noises like this escaped Evelyn’s mouth before. She’d never made such pathetic, desperate sounds in her life but the way each jolt of pleasure throughout her sensitive body erased the pain, then her thoughts, then her consciousness… she wasn’t sure she’d settle for tonics to take away her symptoms ever again.

Astarion dipped his tongue down towards her entrance, sliding into it and hooking it up to gather as much of her blood as he possibly could before eagerly swallowing. As it slid down his throat, he registered her taste, the nutrients, the potential of life in her menstrual blood flood him like an elixir. He hadn’t felt this alive since he had… well… been alive. It was invigorating. He began to stroke himself harder, moaning against her cunt. Evelyn relished the rumbling sensation it sent throughout her core, her body. She glanced down at her vampire lover and the sight practically drove her insane with lust.

Astarion’s eyes were on his prey, boring into her very soul with his intense attention narrowed to her face, watching her through his thick, dark lashes as he licked up every drop of her juices and blood that he could reach. Splotches and smears of her blood reached up to his elegant cheekbones, just below those eyes still glinting like deep red orbs of glass. His silver curls hung over his forehead, a few of them stuck down against his ivory skin with the sweat that dripped down his brow to mingle with the smudges of blood on the lower half of his face. He’d never looked more predatory, more primal, more beautiful. Evelyn wished she could capture the view just so she could pleasure herself to the image for the rest of her life.

Astarion growled, low and deep as he closed his eyes, picking up his speed against her clit again. Evelyn ground her hips against his mouth, riding his tongue as she moaned. Tears of pleasure formed in the corners of her eyes as she felt that coil tighten deep in her belly. It wound so tight within her, every gasp of air felt like her last as her mouth fell open in an ecstatic smile as she gripped his curls tighter.

“Fuck, fuck Astarion – Astar- d-don’t stop! Don’t stop! Please!” Evelyn mewled, her hips beginning to shake and stutter with each roll against his face.

When the white-hot wave of pleasure crashed into her, Evelyn curled in on herself as she cried out. But Astarion’s arms wrapped around her thighs, his hands slamming her hips down onto the ground to lock her in place, his tongue unrelenting as she convulsed with release. Oh Gods, her overly sensitive body now being overstimulated with the most intense orgasm she’d ever had, it blanked her mind, draining it of all logical thought.

After the final throes of her orgasm had passed, Astarion continued to lick lazily around her still-throbbing clit, sucking up every drop of her blood and essence he could reach with that glorious, skilled tongue of his. Evelyn’s gasping breaths finally slowed to a long, deep tempo as he continued to feed between her legs, like he had all the time in the world. He hummed with pleasure as he rose up on his elbows eventually as he watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath.

It took Evelyn a moment to realize her pains… they were gone. Completely gone. Not even the most expensive tonic she’d ever taken had been able to eradicate the pain like this. She was in awe as she thought to herself how every woman should be so lucky to have a vampire lover – at least once a month.

“Darling, you … you taste… divine isn’t even a sufficient word,” Astarion panted with an amazed, almost awed grin spreading over his bloodied face. “I’ve never tasted anything like that… I think I may have just fallen victim to an addiction.” He brought his body back over hers, dragging the tip of his cock to prod at that sensitive bud between her legs. She quietly moaned at the sensation, at his words. “You’re never allowed to menstruate without me again. I might just sequester you here in your tent until your cycle passes.”

Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the words might have seemed coming from anybody else. Astarion’s smile softened for just a moment at the sound. His undead heart tightened in his chest, knowing that his actions, no matter how defiling and deviant they had been, had brought her back to this state, to being the shining, joyous woman that he knew he was beginning to care for so, so deeply.

“Now,” Evelyn said with a devious smirk that made his blood boil and a tone that made him feel so desired. “Get down here and kiss me.”

“Let me just-,”

“No… Don’t clean it off,” Evelyn hummed, surprising herself with her next words. “I want to taste it. I want to taste it from your mouth… from your tongue”

Astarion’s mind sparked with excitement. This side of his half-elf sorceress lover always caught him off-guard, always kept him on his toes with how unpredictable its appearances were. Yes, she was openly sexual and erotic when it was just the two of them, when they fucked, but this aggressive side, this hungry vixen – she was a rare treat, and his favorite one at that.

“As you wish, my love,” he whispered as he lowered himself onto her body, pressing the full weight of himself onto her and Evelyn groaned into his kiss as the iciness of his skin cooled her back down to equilibrium.

Evelyn swept her tongue into his mouth and reveled in the taste that washed over her senses. The bittersweetness of her own taste, the metallic tang of her own blood, and the intoxicating taste of him that she knew so well. It truly awakened something in her and she reached down to massage his length nestled between them. Astarion whimpered as he began rutting against her hand.

“You’re such a generous vampire,” Evelyn whispered against his mouth. “Astarion, the consummate, dedicated lover…”

“I aim to please, my dear,” he replied with a suave smile against her lips. “I’d do anything for you…”

Astarion's stomach flipped as the words left his mouth. The truth behind them… horrified him. But Evelyn didn’t snag on the words the way he did as she reached down just a bit farther to massage his balls. Astarion gasped as her fingers grasped him, massaging them between her fingers as the icy skin of his chest pressed into hers, cooling her heated breasts.

“I don’t think it would be too daunting of a request for you to fuck me now, would it?” Evelyn asked, feigning an innocent pout.

“How very naive of you to think I’d ever refuse you while you hold two prized possessions of mine,” Astarion crooned with a smirk. Evelyn squeezed his balls playfully, causing him to jump a little, before she released them to grip his cock once more. As she guided the tip of his cock to her entrance, it glided effortlessly through her bloodied slick and his mouth began to water again. “But regardless, I’ll always fuck you, darling…” He hovered his mouth just above hers, both of them sharing a breath as he slid into her, drowning his mind in the obscene squelching noise that came from between Evelyn’s legs. “Oh Gods….”

The way his cock slid into her, bottoming out without anything more than minimal effort from his hips sent shivers down his spine. Astarion’s eyes rolled back in his head as he pulled out to thrust back in, those lewd, wet noises filling the tent again. He slowly slid his hand between their bodies, dipping two fingers into her folds to run over her clit. Evelyn twitched at the touch, that bundle of nerves still settling from earlier. He ran his fingers along her slick, swiping up a coat of new blood onto his dexterous digits before holding them up in front of his mouth. Locking eyes with his lover, he popped the bloodied fingers in his mouth to loudly suck on them as he simultaneously thrusted back into her once more. Evelyn shivered with arousal, watching him lick his fingers clean with starving eyes. Her body shook with that thrust of his hips, her breasts bouncing up toward her face with each time he fucked her. Gods, the way his cock slammed into the end of her channel, stretching her, filling her so completely, she couldn’t even remember her pains anymore - only the sensation that shot up her spine with each thrust as he hit her raw cervix.

“Evelyn, my darling,” Astarion moaned in her ear before biting down on it. The noises, the taste that lingered in his mouth, the smell – the pressure built up in him quicker than he wanted it to. His hips began to move faster, of their own accord but he didn’t want this to end, he didn’t want to stop.

Evelyn crashed her lips into his again, craving more. She bit into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and began to suck on the small cut. A groan escaped his lips as she hummed with pleasure, tasting his blood mingling with hers.

“My little vixen, are you actually hungry for me?” Astarion said quietly, followed by a grunt as he thrust himself into her. “Have I awoken the little vampire in you?” His voice was low, deep - that tone that always sent shivers down her spine.

“Seems only fair,” Evelyn panted with a mischievous smile. Astarion slammed his lips back against hers, chuckling against the kiss. Evelyn reveled in the rumbling she felt in his deep laughter against her chest, the small vibrations stimulating her nipples again.

Evelyn, full of surprises when she was in these moods, suddenly flipped Astarion onto his back and slammed herself down on his cock. He gripped her breasts, needing something to hold on to as she rode him, his hips slamming up into her hard and fast.

“Gods yes, that feels – so – fucking – good,” Evelyn cried out, punctuating each word with the drop of her hips. Astarion slid his hands down to those hips, adding to the force of her bouncing on him, thrusting himself deeper and deeper and deeper. Astarion watched eagerly where they joined, hypnotized by the sight of his blood-soaked cock disappearing into her and reappearing. It was an image he’d never forget.

Evelyn gasps began to come faster, her breaths grew shorter as his length dragged against that spot within her. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest but he pulled her down flush against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as he pounded up into her hard, fast, relentlessly. Release barreled toward Evelyn with each slam of his cock against her cervix. She mewled as her second orgasm flooded her senses, washing away every memory of her having felt any pain at all this evening.

Astarion needed more of the sound, the smell – he didn’t want to be done with her, not yet. But he grunted, her cunt clenching around him bringing him to his own edge as he felt his hips stutter, his thrusts growing jagged and sloppy… and he came – harder than he ever had before. Astarion pushed his hips up flush against hers as he threw his head back, letting out a moan that came from deep within his soul.

For a short while, there was nothing but the sounds of content and exhausted panting filling the air. They laid there, simply holding each other, Evelyn��s cheek snuggled against his chest and Astarion’s lips buried in her chocolate brown hair as he planted soft kisses to the top of her head, both of them coming down from their highs. It was a few moments before either of them spoke.

“How in the Hells are we going to leave this tent to get cleaned up without the rest of the camp seeing us smeared with all this blood?” Evelyn chuckled quietly, her sheepish voice returning as that vixen receded back within her. She pulled her face away to examine her lover, taking in the absolute mess all over his mouth, his chin, his cheeks,his body and even in those silvery curls of his - she couldn’t help but laugh. Astarion smiled up at her, unable to help how he reacted to the sound of her laughter for the second time in such a short while. Oh, he began feeling like he was in such trouble with her as that happy golden gaze melted his frozen heart.

Evelyn gave his lips a quick kiss before pushing off of him, separating them in one fluid motion as she sat back on her heels beside him, looking down at all the blood all over her own body as well before chuckling again to herself.

“Well, I could… lick you clean,” Astarion grinned, propping himself up on his elbows. “Everyone is always saying I behave like a cat – so I might as well clean you like one, darling.”

Evelyn gave him an amused smile.

“An interesting proposal, but I believe that would lead to more of a mess,” Evelyn quipped.

“Exactly,” Astarion’s grin widened, and Evelyn threw his shirt at his face, earning a laugh from him. He slid the shirt off his face and laid it on the ground beside him.

“Well, I… suppose I’m stuck sleeping in here tonight…” Astarion said slowly as it dawned on him that he had never literally slept with Evelyn before. Evelyn seemed to freeze up, looking over at him slowly to analyze his reaction to the realization. He kept on his cool, calm mask as he waited for her to speak. They both sat there for a moment, reading each other.

“Is that… is that okay?” Evenlyn asked. Worrying that it might not be okay, she had an idea. “Oh- wait! I know,” she exclaimed as she removed her soaked, ruined underwear and now clean rag from the small bucket, lifted the back of her tent, dumped the bloody water out onto the ground and conjured new, clean water. She soaked the newly cleaned rag in the bucket for a moment, and then reached out to begin cleaning Astarion’s stunning face.

Watching the blood disappear to reveal his beautiful ivory skin… it was so satisfying and so… intimate. His eyesb were locked on hers throughout the tender process. She couldn’t help herself as she placed a kiss to each cheek once they were clean, and to his lips once they were clean as well. She dunked the rag once more before going to work on the rest of his body and he sat there, letting her clean her own blood off of him. He watched her quietly, letting the moment become something deeper than awkward silence. He took in how her golden eyes glazed over lightly as they dragged down his body, drinking in every line and curve of him. He let the closeness of the moment wash over him, let the intimacy of her ministrations sink into him with an uncomfortable weight because he found he wanted to bear that weight… with her.

“So…,” he finally said, breaking the silence as she wringed the rag one last time to finish off the last of the blood on the inside of his thigh. Evelyn’s golden eyes flitted up to his, waiting for him to continue. “I’m free to return to my own tent, then…”

Astarion watched her closely for a reaction, for anything that signaled she might protest, that she might want him to stay. She looked down at his chest for a brief moment before cleaning off a small spot she’d missed… right over his heart.

“Well, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Evelyn offered, her voice soft and quiet.

“Do you… wish for me to stay?”

“I want you to feel free to do whatever you’d like to do, Astarion.”

A careful answer.

“That’s not what I asked,” he replied just as cautiously.

Evelyn met his eyes once more, beginning to clean off her own body, but he stopped her. Astarion gently took the rag from her hand and began to clean her himself. He’d never done this before… the aftercare. Never received it either. Even if there had been the time with all those other lovers… he didn’t think anyone would have cared to do it for him.

But Evelyn did.

Astarion found himself fantasizing about it, all the times he might do this again with her in the future and instead of fear… he felt a warmth spread throughout him. Because Evelyn would be there every day after they slept together, or didn’t. She would never be dragged off to her death, kicking and screaming his name in anger and betrayal. She’d be there with her bright golden eyes shining up at him every morning as she’d greet him, and every night as she’d bid him sweet dreams. The certainty of it was starting to anchor itself within him, heal over those wounds left by all those lost lovers… he wondered if maybe a God had answered all those pathetic, hopeless prayers after all, in saving her for him until this magical tadpole gave him this strange glimpse of freedom, maybe even … for when his was all over, and he was completely free of Cazador.

“I would… like it quite a bit if you did stay,” Evelyn said slowly, carefully. “But I don’t want you to feel obligat-,”

“Then I’ll stay.”

“I don’t want you to stay only because I want you to.”

“I do not do anything I do not want to do anymore, Evelyn.”

Her name on his lips still felt so weighted, so serious. Evelyn knew now it was a tell for when he was being completely serious – no games or pretenses. He was addressing her and only her when he used her name.

“Alright,” she smiled gently.

Once they both were finally clean and Astarion had made a few jokes about actually drinking from the bucket of bloodied water like it was fine wine, they settled into her bedroll together. Astarion laid on his back, lifting his arm for her to tuck herself into his side. As she laid her head down on his chest, he couldn’t help but notice the way her body fit against his… like a puzzle piece meant just for him. He couldn’t discern his emotions at the thought. Warmth mixed with panic and stretched his mind in too many directions and just as that protective veil began to creep over his mind, Evelyn shifted her hair. That natural perfume of hers, jasmines and warm vanilla, it settled him, grounded him.

Oh, Astarion was certain right then… he was so fucked.

Evelyn felt herself blush as Astarion stood a little closer to her the next morning as the group decided what direction they’d head in to further their journey. She almost giggled when he hooked his pinkie with hers, giving her a small smirk as he looked down at her out of the corner of his eye. When they finally came across a merchant that day in the Myconid Colony, Astarion called her over as he stood before the female gnome with Shadowheart at his side, picking out ingredients for elixirs and potions of healing.

“Darling, which ingredients would you need for your monthly tonic? We’ll have to brew it ourselves.”

“I uhm… I don’t think I need it,” Evelyn whispered. Astarion quirked an eyebrow at her, and she blushed as she continued. “I think I uhm… prefer your solution.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you two!” Shadowheart laughed as she paid the woman and walked away shaking her head.

________________________________________________________

Taglist: @pursuitseternal (I teased you with this one for a little while there LOL 😅❤️)

#FIREEEE!! FIRE I SAAAAY #oh this is absolutely debaucherous #and absolutely fucking perfect #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav

266 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 4 days

Text

"That was hysterical. Your masculinity is so fragile that MY nail polish upsets you? That's why I wear it all the time now." - Neil "not a therapist" Newbon

from Kal via @ CheekyLilPupp on twitter

276 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 4 days

Text

Oh gods what a freaking good dream it is 🤭

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended.

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude.

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs.

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to?

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen?

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too.

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient.

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading.

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night.

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast.

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own.

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles.

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her.

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue.

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips.

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again.

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her.

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes.

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry.

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard.

Just a dream, then. For now, at least.

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.”

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time.

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces.

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

Banner credit to @cafekitsune

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion breeding #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x f!tav #f!tav x astarion #baldur's gate 3

495 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 4 days

Text

And this is why I love him being friends with Gale 🤭 these book buddies probably created their own secret bookclub exchanging books they find interesting which is why they debate and jeer all the time.

They probably have their own inside jokes cause of all the books they read. They look like they don't get along well but deep inside they know they're complicated good friends. 🤭

Astarion Headcannon: Reading

Astarion adores mystery novels.

The world around him seems so predictable, with how thoroughly he can read people. He also loves the thrill of suspense, when it’s not his own life or body hanging in the balance. So there’s nothing he adores more than a plot twist, than to be surprised and caught off-guard. He gives them all a chance as he starts, so desperately wanting to be pleasantly surprised. Astarion knows when one has him hooked because he’ll think about it during the day. His legal mind will mull over each and every detail he’s gobbled up the night before as he read, curled up in his tent with his goblet of wine almost completely neglected because he can’t pull away from the words. He wants the satisfaction of guessing the ending before he gets there.

One day, after you’ve made love and you’re settling in to sleep beside him as you’ve begun to do, Astarion decides to pick up his book instead. Only joining his body with yours could break his brain from thinking about this particular book and he left it on a cliffhanger this morning before packing up camp. You ask him what he’s reading and at first, he doesn’t want to share - he’s been waiting all day to read. But you attempt to read over his shoulder and he pulls it away, half-closing it.

“You can’t just start reading it now, you have no idea what’s going on!” Astarion sneers over his shoulder.

“Then tell me about it!” You laugh at how protective he’s being of this story. But it’s so captivating to him, so well-written that reading it from the halfway point does the writing a disservice, an injustice. He can’t stand for that.

So he scoffs, sitting up on the bedroll you’re sharing and begins to tell you what’s going on, where he’s at in the book. Quickly it turns into a debate, your own theories forming as he tells you his own. Astarion finds that he loves it, this back and forth with you about something with no stakes. He insists on starting the book over so he can read it to you, ensure that you have all the facts before having the audacity to argue him.

The rest of the camp isn’t thrilled, but the sounds of you both debating the book is easier to fall asleep with than… other noises that used to come from Astarion’s tent.

#astarion headcannons #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion x gale #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #gale of waterdeep

186 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 4 days

Text

Some days Astarion feels the pain of being a vampire more than others. He knows and feels it in every fibre of his being. He's different, he's a monster.

He's cold to the touch, his eyes glow red, he cannot go into the sun, his heart doesn't beat.

When you notice these moments of painful realisation you move to him as you see the shine in his usually bright eyes dim. And you wrap your arms tightly around him. So your warmth seeps into his body. And so he can feel your heartbeat drum through both of your bodies.

You hold him like this until he cannot tell if it's your warmth or his. Until you feel his spark return. Willing him to know that you'll let your heart beat for the two of you, no matter what.

255 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 4 days

Text

This is a headcannon for me now 💙 i see them getting closer as time passed and have little moments on their feeding, like maybe joking around after, gigling, gossiping sometimes, cuddling soon after. Feeding becoming their safe space. 🥹

So it's understood that the first time Astarion feeds on tav, it is intimate. Not necessarily sexual, but there's a closeness that needs to happen. Tav has to trust him with their life. As their relationship progresses, I wonder if how he feeds changes. The first time he is gentle of course, even cradling tavs head and making them as comfortable as he can. But he still just bites and moves on. But maybe, as time passes, he finds himself stroking tavs hair or rubbing his thumb along their cheek while he feeds. Or taking his time so he can hold them for a while longer. Maybe that's one of the things that makes him realise how hard he's falling for them.

#bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #astarion thoughts #astarion theories #astarion headcanons #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x you #astarion x reader

646 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 5 days

Text

I love Astarion so much he is so fucking silly. He acts all suave and mysterious and he's very good at it, but the second you catch him off guard and he's just acting like himself he is straight up fucking goofy. The way he goes "oh, hello!" and waves at you while reading The Necromancy of Thay. The way he points at the bomb gnome and says "let's not do anything hilarious!" before she can blow you all up. The fact that when hes confronted by the Gur in Act 3 (which realistically be KNOWS you can all take care of if he really wanted to) he just goes "ohIthinkwe'reintrudinglet'sleave,quickly".

And so many more. He is just so silly!!!!! There's a man there who is genuinely goofy and kind underneath it all, he just has to deal with so much bullshit on a daily basis!!!

902 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 7 days

Text

Book Dragon

Summary: What I imagine is a common occurrence at camp with my Tav. She is a hoarder and frequently dumps inventory into the camp supplies and forgets which important objects she needs for quests. (This is dumb but I just needed to get it out of my head)

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (use of she/her)

Tags: fluff, established relationship.

The frantic crunching of gravel was the first indication that someone had arrived to their camp. Immediately upon hearing the rustling coming through the underbrush, Shadowheart rose from her kneeling meditation, hand braced on the dagger at her hip. From across the slowly-dimming fire pit, Lae’zel mirrored the cleric; double blades resting in her palms as her ochre eyes scanned the tree-line for the incoming threat.

The second indication came from the muffled voices beginning to carry through the forrest. There were at least two, neither of which were decipherable at this distance (Halsin’s snores emanating from his tent didn’t help the matter).

The third indication was the sight of four familiar individuals bursting through the trees, the first two seemingly in a heated argument. Tav was strides ahead of Astarion, making a beeline to her tent next to Shadowheart.

“All I’m saying is that—“

“—I know I have it somewhere, Astarion!” She threw open the tent flap and slammed both knees onto the shabby rug that lined the floor. Dumping out bag after bag of books, random stones, empty potion bottles, and a few stolen pieces of jewelry, she began to frantically tear through the contents in search of something.

“Darling,” Astarion leaned against the frame of her tent, voice tense with the clear restraint he was exerting, “I’m sure if you had it, it would be in your pack. Maybe, if you didn’t hoard tomes and scrolls like some sort of…book dragon,” he flourished a hand for emphasis, “then you’d be able to keep track of your belongings more easily.”

“Maybe, if you helped me look and stopped running your pointy mouth for a moment, we’d be able to find it faster.”

Astarion’s face was expressionless and unreadable as he stared at her digging through a large chest, “Oh darling, please don’t be mean to me,” he drawled sarcastically, “you know how it turns me on.”

Tav’s head whipped around, eyes blazing as she stared at her lover (the thought of which still confused the rest of the party). She continued her ravenous search through the tent, tossing weapons and pillows all over the small area rugs as the other party members watched on, half in confusion and the other in exasperation.

“What’s going on?” Shadowheart glanced uncertainly over at the scouting party, hand finally leaving the hilt of her dagger.

Karlach shrugged, swaying to an imaginary beat that seemingly played on a constant loop in her head, “Tav needs a book—“

“—More like Tav trekked us through the wilderness for hours to find the Mystic’s tomb, only to double back through treacherous territory just to look for a bloody book, that she may or may not even have, based on a hunch!” Astarion threw out his hands in exclamation, dirt and blood shimmering along his face in the firelight.

“—She needs the journal we found a few days ago in the temple. We think it may have the key to figuring out where the Mystic’s amulet is. If we get the amulet, we can end him for good,” Gale added valiantly.

“You two think it’s the key,” Astarion drawled, motioning between the wizard and Tav, “I for one think we can just—“

“AH-HA!” Tav leapt up with a yell, holding a decrepit leather book in her upheld hand. “I knew I had picked it up, I guess I had stashed it in the communal trunk to make more room in my pack.”

Astarion rolled his garnet eyes, “Please enlighten us all on the vast wisdom scrawled haphazardly by this half-dead freak.”

Tav’s eyes sparkled in challenge as she held out the ancient book to him.

“What do you want me to do with it?” He scoffed, eyes darting between her and the yellowed pages.

Tav smiled sweetly, a terrifying gesture that caused Karlach to cringe slightly from a few feet away, “I just figured that if this was written by some ‘half-dead freak’, then it could only be deciphered by another ‘half-dead freak”.”

Astarion blinked in surprise, his aloof mask slipping momentarily by her remark. He narrowed his eyes as she smirked and clutched the book to her chest.

“I think we should take the night to re-group and rest before setting out again tomorrow at first light. I’ll comb through the journal tonight and see what I can find,” She nodded confidently.

Gale stepped closer to her side, “If you’d like company, I’d love to assist.”

Astarion stiffened, ceasing his casual leaning to stand upright. Before he could get a word out, Tav gave a soft smile and shook her head.

“I appreciate the offer Gale, but I’ll be able to focus better if I’m alone. Once I figure anything out I’ll let you know though.”

Astarion loosed a breath, watching as the wizard nodded and strode off to his own tent, hiding his defeat behind a cool mask. As the rest of the camp began to disperse, Astarion lingered at Tav’s tent, feigning interest in a loose thread hanging from his sleeve.

“Goodnight, Star,” she shuffled in the dirt towards her bedroll, the events of the day finally catching up with her. Limbs feeling like a million pounds and eyelids full of sand, she reached to push the tent flap aside when she felt a cold grip on her other wrist.

Astarion pulled her gently backwards, “Where are you going?” His voice was soft and filled with a lingering apprehension that tugged at Tav’s heartstrings.

“To my tent? I have to dig through this book before we leave tomorrow…”

Astarion noticed how bloodshot her eyes were; she was exhausted.

“Let me,” he gingerly pried the book from her fingers. Tav looked at him in confusion.

“I’ll read through it tonight, you should sleep.”

“Star, you don’t have to,” she shook her head, “Let yourself rest—”

“Darling,” Astarion brought a hand up to cradle her cheek, “It’s not up for debate.”

Tav turned and kissed his palm. Breaking into a slow smile, Astarion tucked her into his side and began to lead over towards his tent.

“Does this mean you’re not actually mad at me about dragging you back here prematurely?” She smirked.

Astarion scoffed. “Oh love, I’m incredibly annoyed,” he squeezed her tighter, “but unfortunately, I’m also quite fond of you and will follow anywhere you ask.”

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #astarion blurb #astarion fluff #astarion x female reader

189 notes · View notes

ayselluna · 7 days

Text

They probably stay in bed for a month for me. but godss I love this too!

I love to imagine that after everything is done, the city is saved, Astarion and Tav bought their house and settled down: they just stay in bed for a week.

Even though it might not be more than a mattress on the ground and there is barely anything else in the house.

Exhaustion just hits and they just want to feel cozy and comfortable 100% of the time, only going out to get some food for Tav and wine for them both. And they mostly just cozy up naked or at maximum wearing underwear or Tav just wears Astarion's shirt.

They just have sex whenever desire hits them because now they just can and for the moment there are no distractions, no worries, no fear. They can just hardcore hit the honeymoon phase where they can barely keep their hands off each other and a single look can be enough to start blazing flames.

But they also just lay there, cuddle, relax, talk - maybe Tav starts doing somersaults on the mattress because they were never able to do that as a kid and almost whack Astarion in the face while giggling like mad.

And they talk lots. Of course they did that before but it's different now because they have something they weren't sure of before: a future. And they plan their future, talk through all kinds of differents possible versions - even the most ridiculous ones. They talk about the most mundane things, like what colour curtains they want or what kind of wine glasses they'd like, what way bread should be stored and - "I have nerver ONCE in my life thought about duvet covers, Astarion - not even once." "Well, a nice point to start then, isn't it, my heart? Because silk looks amazing but I'm pretty sure you would like linen more..."

Or they joke until they're crying laughing, half hanging off the mattress or on each other and they can't breathe anymore because they both have never felt this light and safe in their life.

Maybe Astarion tries to teach Tav something: like how to let a coin wander over your knuckles or another language or he just talks about something like his favourite artworks and the history behind it and promises Tav to take them to a museum and show them more.

And even after the initial phase is over and they actually decide it's time to spend some time out of bed and finally get a real furniture, it becomes their little safe haven. The place where they always can be absolutely intimate in every kind of way and can be safe and comfortable - and at home.

#peace and quiet with Astarion #astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #just me rambling

3K notes · View notes

ayselluna · 8 days

Text

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Tav is a half-elf bardlock. I'm calling her Tav in this fic, but if you know you know.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words.

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Tav. “Let’s go!”

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area.

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.”

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Tav.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Tav asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before.

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Tav smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Tav bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him.

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning.

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Tav told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Tav.

“Do indulge me.”

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.”

“Such as?”

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered.

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?”

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh.

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit.

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.”

She said the first phrase that came to mind.

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Tav knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.”

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Tav gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?”

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?”

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Tav said thoughtfully.

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.”

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Tav. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.”

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Tav.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Tav asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question.

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?”

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes.

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like.

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive.

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...”

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause.

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails.

“Stay and do what..?”

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?”

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.”

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued.

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.”

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat.

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.”

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause.

“...What?”

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.”

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?”

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away.

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence.

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering.

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion.

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage.

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Tav up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons.

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.”

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed.

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole.

“Take the ones behind,” Tav snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing.

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Tav spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter.

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Tav followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing.

Astarion turned back to witness Tav standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Tav barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch.

A domination spell.

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

“Kneel,” Tav commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him.

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides.

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever.

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?”

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him.

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising.

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?”

She spat on the ground.

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade.

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back.

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog.

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less.

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her.

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up.

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

Series master list

Next in series - A night at the inn

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

146 notes · View notes