#[ i sleep in a bed that is nearly as old as astarion is ] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampiricgf · 15 days

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☆ BEDROOM HYMNS

ᝰ Astarion comes home from a night of hunting to find his darling lover needy and perfectly pliant to hear his idea of having another child together (repost from my old account)

f!reader, breeding, pregnancy, blood drinking, masturbation, fingering, teasing

Rain patters the roof, each droplet striking like a drop of metal against the terracotta though it’s not the only thing that robs you of sleep.

It’s been two years since the birth of your child. Two years of milestones, two years of putting all else on hold for the wonderful little girl that slep soundly just one room over. You may be horrifically biased but the two of you were lucky enough to have created what was possibly the most charming babe in all the realms. For Astarion you knew it was love at first sight.

The adoration he held for that child was next to nothing, it’s own category of madness and love. Recalling it brough the faintest whisper of a smile to your face as you turn over, groggily eyeing the glaringly vacant spot beside you in bed.

He’d gone hunting, as you both kept calling it long after no longer being in the wilds. It was just… familiar. And it kept curious little ears from asking too many questions that required as yet too complex answers. Hunting was easy to grasp and kept their shared befanged appearance from being something other than a simple trait of her fathers she was overjoyed to have. On days that ended with you feeling haggard and worse for wear he would ardently refuse to feed from you. This had been one such day.

One of many. How long had it been since you had more than a brief window to take advantage of if you wanted to indulge in each other? How long had it been since you felt your lovers teeth scrape the tender flesh of your neck, since the shivers of anticipation crawled down your spine?

Too long.

Familiar longing makes you squeeze your thighs together beneath the duvet, biting your fingers recalling previous trysts that had left you all but a puddle of water in his hands.

Gods only know how long he’ll be gone, and you know self pleasure is a quick path towards sleep.

As your mind drifts to vivid images of him your hand slips between your legs: the feel of his hair when you give it faint tugs while he languishes between your legs, the way his gaze becomes something predatory when he looks at you in a certain light and how it makes your heartbeat speed into a reckless gallop, the way his tongue feels against your skin-

Before the coil in your abdomen begins to tighten you hear it, the tell tale graon of the windowsill supporting his weight. In some faraway annoyance you remind yourself to tell him again that you have a perfectly functional front door.

For some reason you remain frozen beneath the covers, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as you hold your breath. Even with your eyes closed you know hes there, even with lesser senses you can hear his snow soft footfalls, but even so his speed still catches you off guard. Gasping as he manuvers you onto your back, crouched over you with pupils blown so wide the crimson of his irises is barely visible.

“I take it you’ve had a good night?” you smirk, nearly preening against the feeling of his hands gripping your wrists gingerly to hold them on either side of your head.

“Hm it smells like you were having an even better one,” his voice comes out a playful whisper. Before you can react he brings one of your hands to his face, making heat blaze beneath your skin.

Your mouth falls open watching his tongue slide against the fingers that had been sliding through your own arousal not seconds before.The feeling of him taking your finger into his mouth, licking around the appendage in the most obscene way, makes your thoughts cloud and your heart pick up into it’s familiar racing tempo he conducts so effortlessly.

Your eyes follow a strand of glittering spit connecting your finger to his lips, so focused you nearly miss him speak.

“Won’t you tell your lover what was on your mind while you were touching yourself?”

Your voice cracks. “You.”

He gives a playful hmph before letting go of you, leaving your hand to fall dumbly against your sternum.

“Well, that was a given.” He leans down to press his face against the side of your neck, inhaling before pressing his lips to your feverish skin. “Any specific debauchery, though?”

You struggle for words, mentally grasping at air mid free fall as his hips press down to grind himself against you.

“Since the cats got your tongue I have proposition for you,” He breaths against your cleavage as he nuzzles his face over your heartbeat. As your breathing grows heavier he continues, making your own eyes widen as each word goes straight to your cunt.

“I think we should have another little vampling.”

It’s as if he yanks all the oxygen from the room, leaving you starved and struggling even harder, dizzy against the feeling of his erection pressing against you and the wave of emotion that threatens to overwhelm.

“Another?

“Mhm,” his tongue licks a fat stripe from between your breasts up the side of your neck.

All coherent thought has faltered for you, replaced by fractured urges as your hips buck up against him in response. You aren’t thinking about the practicality of another child, theres simply no room for it when your every sense is being crowded by each aspect of his presence above you.

Quickly the duvet is discarded, flung off your body and your nightdress hiked up to give him access to your now damp underwear. He takes full advantage, rubbing his tumb over your clothed clit and clearly enjoying the way it makes you give a little yelp, the way your legs jerk as if touched by live electricity.

“Can’t you just picture it? I know I can,” his fingers pull the thin fabric to the side, sliding easily through the mess of arousal between your folds as he whispers against your panting lips. “You looked so beautiful before, all swollen with child and milk. Radiant. Decadent.”

You’re reduced to primitive noises, speech completely failing now as he slides two fingers inside you, knuckles easily sliding past the relaxed muscles before he starts lightly scissoring them against the slick velvet of your walls. Your fingers twist against the fabric of his shirt at his back, teeth catching your bottom lip as you moan his name in choppy syllables.

Smugness and desire mingle in his expression as his lips devour yours, drinking down your noises and gasps as if you’re a fountain of the finest wine. Your hips move to grind against his hand as his thumb presses against your throbbing clit once more, keeping light, consistent pressure but no movement.

His habit of teasing always shone through.

But your impatience is infectious, and once he deems you sufficiently ready as quickly as possible his fingers withdraw and he leans back on his knees, undoing his trousers with fumbling fingers before mauvering to shimmy them off. The garment is flung into the murky depths of your bedroom floor as he cages you with one forearm, the other hand busy guiding the head of his cock through the mess between your legs before lining the head up and beginning the slow push inside.

It never fails to leave you lightheaded, no matter how many times you’ve taken him before. The way your body accommodates him so eagerly, the way he sits heavy inside you as inch by inch slots perfectly against your walls, the head of his cock brushing against the spot that turns your viscion to static the more stimulation he gives.

As if you were made for one another. You wholeheartedly believe it.

He gives you little time to adjust, rather immediately setting a deep, steady pace. His rhythm isn’t harsh or bruising, not even as he cages you with both arms now and as your uneven breathing mingles in the milimeter of space between your faces. Each pull out is deliciously slow, allowing you to feel every vein and curve before the push back has your fingers digging into his shoulder blades.

As the slick squealching fills the room, the sound of skin sticking to skin joining in some pornographic symphony, your legs come to wrap around his hips and your ankles lock behind him. Pressing lightly with your heels your urge him on, urge him to make good on his word and give you more.

He answers in kind, teeth nipping against your bottom lip as his pace picks up speed and he presses forward just enough to shift your legs even higher and give himself better access to hit deeper inside you. It makes you nearly wail, broken sounds now joining in the bedroom hymn and a particular urgency grips your body like a coil winding tight. Your breathing comes in wheezes as he presses even harder against you, cock hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and your mouth drop open in a silent wail, fingernails scraping against his back and your thigh muscles scream from the exertion of tensing so harshly.

The pressure of your cunt clenching around him in a vise grip makes choppy groans fall from his lips but his rhythm never falters as you crest the high of your orgasm, your moans taking on a higher pitch and your hips wriggling beneath his as his own keep their course driving into you again and again.

However, the barrage of mental images of you carrying yet another babe makes him devolve into a sloppy, broken pace rather quickly. It’s an urge, an ache he carries so deeply inside himself and he has to give this to you. Like a man posessed, acting on base desire his hand comes to cradle the back of your head and keep your steady as his fangs create their usual pinpricks against your neck before widening them as they find a home against your vein.

The taste of liquid metal explodes against his tongue at the same time his hips hit one final time against you before he can’t resist any longer, spilling ropes of thick, hot cum inside your greedy cunt. He can feel your equally warm blood smearing against his lips and chin as he messily laps at the side of your neck, keening like some pathetic animal as your walls massage his cock as if to take every last drop he has to give.

Wet sucking sounds and animalistic grunts replace the previous bodily meoldy, as the final, haunting notes on the decresendo of some sweeping piece. Your fingers move to tangle in the sweat damp hair at the nape of his neck, lightly caressing and encouraging him to have his fill.

You’ve always been so sweetly accommodating, it makes his fangs ache.

With a few more licks to help somewhat clean up the mess hes made of your throat, he lends back, pulling out of you with a gravelly sigh but keeping ahold of your thighs and maintaining the pushed up position of your legs.

Even with your eyes closed, impossibly heavy now from the exhaustion and afterglow, you can feel his eyes zeroed in on the sight of his cum dripping from you and you already know you’ll be left in a state beyond exhaustion by the time the early morning hours roll around.

But that was a problem for the near future version of yourself. Your lovers primal tendancies become your own, making your eyes crack open hungrily and hold him steady in your gaze.

The sight of him, still panting, lips slightly parted and your lifeblood smeared in wild tracks across the lower half of his face makes something click into place inside your head and your arms reach out for him once more.

As he wastes no time in pressing himself against you anew you can’t help the satisfied smile that lazily works across your features and bleeds into your kiss.

The strange symphony of your bedroom resumes anew, enveloping you both tightly as the rest of the world continues it’s unaware slumber.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #dadstarion

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 2 months

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Fall for Me | One Shot

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit NSFW18+

Chapter Count: One Shot | Read on AO3 Word Count: 8,048

Title: Fall for Me - Sleep Token

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 during Act 2. Explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge as Astarion realizes there's a depth to his feelings that he's been trying to deny. Tags: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Mentions of Violence, Soft Astarion, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character.

Author Note: Well…this got a bit out of hand. It started as me wanting to write about the moment Astarion realizes he's in deeper than he thought with this relationship, then morphed into me wanting to explore his headspace while being intimate, and then just devolved into absolute filth. I have no excuses. This fic precedes another of my fics called "Faint of Heart," which can be found on my account.

Astarion woke to a cold and suffocating darkness. A scent of wet decay hung in the air, eerily familiar, and all around him the silence screamed.

The night was distinctly void of the mundane sounds that had become commonplace during their journey. Even as they trekked through the Shadowlands towards Moonrise Towers, their nights usually bristled with distant howls and the whispers of skeletal trees as their limbs tangled and clacked in the wind. Now, however, there was nothing but a heavy and stifling quiet that set his nerves on edge. An anxious sense of wrongness stirred in his gut as he tried to get his bearings.

Where was he? Last he remembered, their group bedded down on the outskirts of an abandoned town called Reithwin. They intended to explore the decrepit buildings and shadowed ruins the next day as they pushed towards Moonrise.

Astarion sat up and blinked into the clawing darkness, squinting as if that would somehow bring the world around him into focus. Even with his darkvision, nothing manifested except the ever-expanding gloom all around him.

He ran a hand across the damp floor and shivered against the deep chill that engulfed him. He cast about for his belongings but found none, only a cracked tile floor slick with mildew and grime.

He heard a metallic clatter in the darkness as he shifted around and suddenly tuned in to a weight around his right ankle. An icy dread began to rise in his throat like bile as he hesitantly reached out and touched the shackle, fastened tight.

No…

Panic shot through his heart like a stake and his mouth went dry. He realized with a vile shock why he recognized the scent of old rot which saturated the air. It was the smell of stale rat blood mixed with years of filth and dirt.

He was back in the kennels. Back in Cazador’s grasp.

The realization nearly made him vomit as terror and confusion twisted in his stomach. Astarion hadn’t needed to breathe in over 200 years, and yet that didn’t stop his chest from tightening nor his lungs from seizing. Panic swept through him. He tried to gulp down air as a constricted and choking feeling pressed over him. Eyes wild, Astarion desperately tried to catch sight of something…anything in the relentless gloom.

How? Why? What in the hells had happened?

His mind wheeled, fueled by a horrifying sense of upheaval. He didn’t recall being attacked, but that didn’t change the situation he now found himself in.

He had to get out. He couldn’t be here. This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t right.

Except…it was. Because this was how his life had always been. He’d never escape. Never be free. Cazador would always find a way to drag him back. His master would never let go. He would always find Astarion, no matter how far he ran.

Thou shalt know that thou art mine.

Cazador’s fourth rule burned in Astarion’s mind, haunting and vicious. He stifled a sob, swallowing it back down and gritting his teeth until his jaw ached. He needed to figure out what had happened, because if he was here then…

Eli…

His stomach lurched as a fresh wave of dread nearly choked him. Where was Eli? If Cazador had been able to seize Astarion, had he taken her, as well? Guilt flooded his mind as it raced, trying to piece together some sequence of events that made sense. None of it seemed logical, but he was too panicked to dwell on the irrational nature of it all.

If Cazador had Eli…

But Cazador didn’t know, he couldn’t know…how Astarion felt about her. Hells, Astarion didn’t even understand his own emotions when it came to Eli. She was…something to him. More than nothing, so much more than nothing.

If Cazador had her…if he turned her…hurt her… Gods, what had Astarion done? He’d put a target on her, and of course Cazador would find her and take her. Because that was what he did. He destroyed anything that brought Astarion even a moment of happiness. How could he have been so stupid?

“Eli?” Astarion called quietly into the darkness, unable to mask the distress that clawed at his throat.

The voice that answered struck him numb with fear.

“Foolish boy. How easy it was to deceive your weak mind.” The cruel mockery in Cazador’s voice caused Astarion to flinch as if he’d been hit.

“What did you do with her?” Astarion hissed through bared teeth, dreading the answer.

“Nothing. Because she is nothing.” Cazador’s voice reverberated in the darkness as if he were everywhere at once.

Astarion didn’t understand whatever game his master was playing, and so he remained silent; shivering, though not as much from the cold as the trepidation.

“You’ve always possessed such a feeble mind, so easy to bend and break,” the voice bit from the shadows. “Did you honestly believe you’d escaped? That you’d been abducted? I planted such an absurd fantasy in your head that I had my doubts as to whether you would believe it. But your incompetence never ceases to entertain.”

Astarion’s eyes went wide and he froze like a prey animal that had only just sensed a trap. A slow, creeping horror slithered up his spine at the thought of what Cazador was insinuating.

“None of it was real, you pathetic little wretch. You’ve been here, the whole time, trapped in an illusion of my design.”

Astarion was going to be sick.

“I thought it was time to pull back the curtain, before you got too attached. To remind you that you are mine, and that will never change. Because who would want something as miserable as you?”

He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to breathe, and yet he couldn’t. His throat burned with bile that came up from his churning stomach. Hot tears seared the corners of his eyes and his brain felt as if it were on fire.

It hadn’t been real… None of it… He’d never be free…

You are mine.

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Astarion gasped awake, as if he were a man drowning who’d finally come up for air.

His chest heaved as sweat cooled against his skin in the night air. He rolled onto his side, coughing as the memory of vomit receded. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and wiped at the ones that had already trailed down his face.

Sitting up, Astarion shivered as the nightmare withdrew, glancing around his darkened tent anxiously as the ghost of Cazador loomed in his mind. He was alone, and though night in the Shadowlands was grim, it was not nearly as oppressive as the darkness in his dream.

A feeble hazy moonlight leaked through the murky tree canopy outside, casting a dim sheen through the pitch of night. Shadows bobbed and weaved on the walls of his tent, cast by drooping and swaying trees. The snarl of an animal sounded somewhere far off in the distance, and Astarion sighed as he tried to settle himself.

His nightmares were dipping into parts of himself he’d rather not acknowledge, preying on fears he wasn’t ready to face. He frowned, stomach knotting as residual feelings of fear and loss flashed through his mind like grease catching alight in a cook pan. He ran a hand through his white curls, recalling the anguish he’d felt in the depths of his dream. He’d felt so small. So fearful and alone. It made him restless.

Astarion stood and exited his tent, stepping into the chill of the night. Their campfire had burned to embers, the light barely able to cut through the murky darkness. The hour was either exceptionally late or achingly early, and the camp was still. Astarion was the only creature stirring in the gloom.

Memories, unbidden, jerked into his mind. Nights spent lurking in silent shadows, looking for a hapless target to bring back to the mansion. The endlessness of his putrid life was the only thing he thought lay before him. More decades of pain, torture and misery. The uncaring hopelessness of it all crushing every scrap of faith and every desperate prayer he had within until all that remained was a broken shell. Unfeeling and brittle.

He hated how wretched and pathetic he’d been. Used up and miserable. He never wanted to feel that way again. And so he fled from those memories, seeking distraction and solace, until he came to stand at the entrance to Eli’s tent.

Astarion paused just outside the mouth of the tent, apprehension twisting in his gut. He was being silly and foolish, he knew. Eli was fine. She’d be asleep in her bedroll and Astarion would feel like an idiot who’d allowed himself to get worked up over a godsdamn nightmare.

Gently, he pulled back the curtain that hung across the tent mouth and peered inside. As predicted, Eli was fast asleep with her back to the entrance. Astarion watched her shoulder rise and fall slowly as she breathed and felt the gnawing tension inside himself loosen its grip, just a bit.

Stupid. This was stupid. He was stupid. Gods, he wanted to hold her…

He wanted her to look at him like he meant something, like he was worth something. He wanted to lose himself in her, like that first night when they’d created their own pocket of nowhere. Free from Cazador and all of his miseries, free from the pain and the fear. Just them, wrapped up in hushed whispers and sweat and lust…and something else. Something different and needy and fragile. Something he’d never felt with anyone else.

“Astarion?” Eli’s voice pulled him back into the world and he blinked, focusing on her as she turned over to face him.

Of course she was awake. Eli’s sleep had become even more restless and fleeting since the night she’d woken him in a panic and he’d had to restrain her. He’d watched over her as she writhed, witnessing her loss of control as the thing within clawed for the surface. It had reminded him of how Cazador would wrest control of his spawn, forcing them to do as he commanded without resistance. He’d realized then that he feared losing her. That he cared and desperately wanted her to overcome whatever this monster was.

He was struggling with the realization, but that didn’t make the truth of it any less real.

“I’m sorry, my dear.” Astarion spoke quietly, shaking his head as if that would rid his mind of its cluttered thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Without pausing to dissuade himself, he crawled forward into Eli’s tent and sat next to her bedroll. He had allocated absolutely zero thoughts to what he would say or do next, but that wasn’t necessarily uncommon for him these days. Things had been working out for him so far, so why shift strategy?

Eli sat up and watched him curiously. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, waving off the concern that was growing in her eyes. “I’ve just been unable to sleep, what with Gale one tent over and snoring like an ogre with swamp lung. So, considering our current arrangement, I thought I might share your tent for the remainder of the night.”

Astarion’s words flowed with well-practiced ease and charm, as if he hadn’t just made that entire excuse up on the spot. He smirked at Eli, who was still fixing him with a skeptical stare, and fought down the sudden anxiety that was rising in his chest and urging him to back out of the tent.

Eli had become rather versed in reading Astarion and it was something he had not quite come to terms with yet. On one hand, it stroked the egotistical part of him that desired attention and affirmation to have someone so attentive to him that they could peak behind the pomp and bluster he so often put forth. On the other hand, he felt as if a part of him was at risk of being snatched away or trapped if someone was able to pull back the roguish mask he’d so carefully crafted. He felt unbalanced, oscillating between moments of vulnerability with Eli and moments where he slammed his walls back in place.

A part of him wanted to tell her why he was really there. That the thought of her, the thought of them, not being real had shaken him to the point where he physically needed to see her. Just to put his mind at ease. He didn’t understand it, himself; the feeling that had driven him to seek her out after he woke. And so he kept his mouth shut and didn’t elaborate, fearing that Eli may think him rather pitiful.

Eli continued to watch Astarion, dubious yet silent, before she sighed and shrugged. “Alright then. If you don’t want to tell me what’s really going on, that’s fine,” she said, then patted the space next to her on the bedroll. “You’re always welcome, you know.”

Astarion felt a strange pang of…disappointment twist in his chest. He’d honestly expected Eli to press further for an explanation that wasn’t clearly pulled out of his ass. But she didn’t. It was disarming.

He moved to her side and situated himself as Eli laid back down. She watched him for a moment as he fluffed a pillow and settled, then she closed her eyes with a deep breath and said nothing more.

“Thank you,” Astarion said quietly as his eyes danced across her restful face.

He felt a sense of unease, unused to having his boundaries respected in such a way. Eli had never been the sort to prod at him for explanations, or to prod at anyone, for that matter. As someone with their own menagerie of secrets and internalized darkness, she tended to allow others the leeway to decide how much or how little they wanted to share. Still, they’d been…indulging in one another rather frequently these days, and Astarion was realizing that while their nights together were a lot of fun, he wanted something…more.

The problem was he hadn’t any idea what that “more” was. And gods did it frighten him. The last thing he wanted to do was give someone else control over him, not after he’d so recently regained a taste of freedom. Over the past 200 years, every relationship he’d ever been involved in had been nothing more than a means to an end with Astarion either playing the role of manipulator or the one being manipulated. Attachments were leverage, giving someone a hook they were able to dig their claws into in order to gain ground. Isolating himself from connecting with others was how he had survived.

And yet, as he watched Eli drift back into sleep, his eyes found her hand resting near her pillow. A longing came over him and, carefully, he reached out tentative and slow until his fingers brushed gently against her own, quietly connecting. Questioning.

Eli’s eyes opened, sleepy but curious. She watched his fingers lightly caressing her own, and with a small smile took his hand and tenderly wove her fingers in between his. Moments like this, made up of soft touches and careful affections, were becoming more common between them. And the intimacy of these moments never ceased to fascinate Astarion.

To Astarion, intimacy had always involved passion and lust. It was created in the pressed spaces between fervent bodies as they worked one another towards ecstasy. It was fleeting and vanished just as quickly as it emerged.

This, however…this was different. This was calm and soothing, and it lingered almost like a promise. Always available to be restoked and explored.

“I…” Astarion began, hesitating for only a second before he steeled himself and pressed on. “I dreamed I was back at the mansion. Back under Cazador’s control.” The name was spoken on the edge of a growl, his red eyes fixed on their joined hands.

He paused, thinking through what to say next, and Eli allowed him the silence to collect his thoughts and continue. “He mocked me,” Astarion spat. “Saying that all this was an illusion. That I hadn’t escaped. That you were an illusion.”

He glanced cautiously to her face, and when his eyes met hers, he found understanding there.

“Well, you came to the right tent,” Eli smiled, voice playful though not dismissive. “I’m something of an expert on nightmares. We can even compare notes, if you like.”

She squeezed his hand lightly and repeated his words from the night when he’d kept vigil over her as she fought against the dark madness within herself. It was unexpectedly touching and Astarion felt something twist where his dead heart was.

“As for whether or not I’m an illusion,” Eli said as she propped herself up on her elbows, slinking closer to him, eyes locked in to his own. “We can thoroughly investigate that claim, if you’d like,” she whispered, a sly question lingering in her gaze.

Astarion smirked, rising and leaning in to close the space between them. He untangled his fingers from her own and placed his hands on her shoulders, fulling intending to roll her to her back and ravish her while she squirmed beneath him. Astarion had come to Eli’s tent with no expectations beyond wanting her close, but he certainly wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to get even closer. They were good together. Really. Fucking. Good. And already desire was clouding over his mind as he bent to capture her mouth with his own. He had tasted her many times before, and yet every time they came together after a prolonged absence it felt fresh and raw. Rejuvenating and wild.

In all of his time as a thrall to his master, Astarion had never bedded the same person twice. Every night was a new conquest, new prey for him to stalk and tease until he’d gathered just enough information to get him through the evening and to get his target back to the mansion. The encounters always played out very tactically on his end as he gathered just enough surface-level drivel to ensure his quarry was seduced into the trap. Once Cazador came for his prize, Astarion would never see the poor wretches again, and that was fine by him.

With Eli, though, it was so different. There had been nothing tactical about any of it after that first night, and even during. The ecstasy of freedom, of choosing to give of himself rather than being forced, was intoxicating. They would explore one another, finding comfort in both familiarity and discovery, honing in on the things that drove the other mad and had them coming undone in the throes of rapture. They were becoming known to one another, intimately and completely. Perfecting and exploring and discovering every time they were together.

It was both enthralling and terrifying, being known like that. Being laid bare as Eli unraveled him just a bit further every time, uncovering parts of himself that had been left dormant and untouched for so long.

The anticipation of it all was already causing a firm swell to build below the waistline of his trousers as he pressed into the kiss. His tongue darted and teased at her lips, gently prodding between them and beckoning her closer. One of his hands had slipped to the small of her back as the other pressed into her shoulder, gently guiding her so that he could tuck Eli below him and crawl on top.

Eli, however, seemed to have other plans in mind and resisted his direction, pushing back into him and maneuvering the both of them until he was on his back with her legs straddling his waist. She never broke the kiss, rocking forward on her knees as she took his hand from her back and pinned it to the ground above his head, her fingers lacing in between his own. He growled into the kiss and playfully ghosted a fang over her bottom lip, causing her to hum needfully into his mouth.

And then her lips were gone, leaving only the hot impression of longing against his own as Eli trailed her lips from the corner of his mouth to the shell of his ear. Her breath was tantalizingly warm, brushing against the sensitive skin there, causing a shiver to course down his spine before it pulsated up into his firming dick. His free hand came to rest on her hip and he fingered mindlessly at the hem of her pants. He wanted her to sit back onto his groin so he could roll his hips up into her and rut his straining cock in between her legs. Hells, he wanted to be free of their clothes so he could sheathe himself inside her warmth and watch her ride him while he speared her over and over as she screamed his name until her throat was raw.

But then all thoughts and wants were lost to a white hot flash in his mind as Eli bit down on the tip of his ear, careful not to break skin but sharp enough to fire lightning off into his veins. His hips snapped up, needing to feel her as his cock throbbed. His left hand was still pinned above his head by one of hers, and he felt his nails digging at the skin of her knuckles while his right hand desperately tried to pull her hips down against him. He choked off a whine in the back of his throat and closed his eyes as his head rolled back against the ground.

She laughed breathily into his ear, and oh gods it was undoing him already. This was dangerous. She’d been paying attention, noting all the things that set him off and applying them expertly until she had him writhing. It was a wholly new experience for him and beneath his fervor and lust was a seed of trepidation.

When it came to sex, there had always been two ways the experience would play out. Either he would maintain control over the situation, or he would disassociate as his various partners had their way and used him to their satisfaction.

But this. This was new. And while it wasn’t unwelcome, the fact that she’d worked him into this position so easily was setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. He hadn’t realized how freely he’d given of himself these past few weeks, how far he’d let her explore and how attentively she’d done so.

How known he truly was.

And then she was letting go of his hand while her lips returned to his own, pressing soft and affectionate kisses into them. She carded a hand into his hair, careful to avoid his ear which was still tingling and overstimulated. He felt a shudder of both relief and disappointment roll through his body as the high passed, missing the sensuality and hunger of it all while relaxing into a more settled state of mind.

Astarion’s eyes were still closed, and the throbbing in his dick had not subsided. He felt her breath back at his ear, though not as close as it had been earlier.

“I just want to make you feel good,” he heard her whisper, sending sparks back through his veins. “Show me how.”

His eyes fluttered open to find hers gazing back at him, sweet and attentive. He felt her fingers twining through his hair and sighed contently, a small smile on his lips.

“You’ve been doing a magnificent job so far, darling,” he crooned before pulling her back down into another wanting kiss.

He smoothed his hands along her sides, repositioning her atop him until she was flush against him. He ran one hand down her spine, firm and slow, while the other gripped the back of her head, encouraging her to melt into him as their tongues explored each other’s mouths and their bodies squirmed, searching for friction. The hand at her back moved to squeeze her ass before he pressed her down against him, desperate for pressure against his groin.

“My only critique so far is there are entirely too many clothes between us,” he breathed against her lips. The hand on her ass gripped tight as he pressed and rubbed his thick erection into her hips, driving the point home.

“Allow me to remedy that,” Eli said with a quick kiss.

And then she was gone, hiking his shirt up and licking warm and wet kisses down his belly towards his waistline. Her hands were undoing the fastenings of his trousers and his head was beginning to spin with the implication.

That wasn’t… She didn’t have to…

He felt Eli slip her hands beneath his smallclothes and tug, pulling both his trousers and underwear down until his erection was free. He sighed from the relief, feeling the fullness bob and twitch expectantly. Eli was dragging her tongue down from his bellybutton towards his aching cock and fuck…he couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to do this for him.

His hand was in her hair, then, tugging gently for her to look up at him.

“That’s not what I was implying, my dear. You don’t have to…” Astarion’s protests trailed off when Eli’s eyes met his, full of lust and playful longing.

He’d sounded almost sheepish, even a bit apologetic, as a sting of guilt wormed its way into his gut. Astarion should be the one giving pleasure, that was how these things always went. That was what he was good at…what his master had made him for…

The thought struck out at him unbidden with a nasty sense of shock and disgust. Cazador had created him for the pleasure of others, taking every opportunity to viciously remind him that what he wanted and how he felt never mattered. It was a belief that had been bolted to his soul after decades of torment, and one it seemed he still carried, even when he wasn’t in his master’s grasp.

“Astarion,” Eli said, softly pulling him out of his spiraling.

He blinked and refocused on her as she pressed her lips gently against the taunt skin over his hip bone, drawing an eager hiss from between his teeth as his dick jerked. Images of her mouth around him, warm and so godsdamn wet and tight, were firing off in his brain and…fucking hells, when had he fallen so completely for her?

“Right now, in this moment, nothing would make me happier than to get you down my throat and thoroughly satisfy you.” Eli smirked at him, hands on his bare thighs and lips a mere breath away from his cock, red and full and beginning to leak.

Her eyes were glittering with a mischief that was intoxicating, but there was affection there, too, soothing and comforting. He shivered, furiously trying to shut his brain down as thoughts collided in explosions of need, guilt and desire.

He’d thought himself so smart, charming and seducing her into his bed. Laying a trap and then walking her into it with such confidence and glee, only for him to find himself just as ensnared. He’d used her, manipulated her, and then drowned himself in her and gods above, if he didn’t want to do it again and again.

“But if that’s not what you want…” He stiffened at Eli’s words, catching the undercurrent of concern in her voice as she shifted and began to move back up his body.

He stopped her, sliding his hand from out of her hair to cup her cheek while he brushed a few silvery strands from her eyes with the other. Now was decidedly not the time for him to have an internal crisis of feelings. Not in the middle of the night with his dick out, pants halfway down his legs and Eli saying such obscene and beautiful things to him. There’d be time for personal reflection later.

He wanted this. Wanted her.

“I want it.” He almost felt embarrassed at the raw desire that slipped through his voice, heavy and breathy. “Gods, you have no fucking idea how much…”

He stopped himself before he could elaborate more and completely mortify himself.

“It’s just been a long time since anyone offered,” he concluded. He wouldn’t admit he couldn’t remember the last time someone had pleasured him like that.

Eli considered him for a moment, expression thoughtful, and for a brief moment of panic Astarion wondered if she had changed her mind. About him and about all of this. But then her lips twitched up into a tender smile and he felt his soul shudder.

“Please.” Astarion breathed.

Eli ghosted a few featherlight kisses near the base of his cock before whispering, “Well, when you ask so sweetly…”

And then her mouth was on him and Astarion’s head rolled back as he made a noise he was entirely too obliterated to be ashamed of.

She took only the tip at first, sucking down onto the head as her lips slid back and forth over the swollen ridge. Her pace was slow, and it was both agonizing and exhilarating. His thighs clenched as a heavy pressure throbbed deep in his groin, sending shivers and tingles spasming out through his legs and up into his belly. His hand was back in her hair, grabbing and encouraging, careful to not be forceful, while his other hand fisted the bedroll.

He both heard and felt Eli laugh low in her throat, the vibrations of it tingling down his shaft and setting his nerves on fire. He’d managed to kick his trousers off, spreading his legs apart so she could nestle between them and absolutely destroy him.

Eli began sucking him down further, slowly sheathing himself into her mouth. He shut his eyes, growling as her warmth and spit enveloped him. He responded by hitching his hips up into her, wanting more, wanting her full of him. He felt her hands on his hips, directing him to rock up into her mouth at a languid pace. He fell into the rhythm, fucking into the suction. She flattened her tongue, applying pressure along his shaft every time he thrusted in before dragging her tongue tip along the sensitive skin when he pulled out.

The growl in his throat grew into a lewd moan that shamelessly filled the tent, leaving no one who was awake in camp to wonder about what was taking place. He could not have cared any less about who heard, and in fact he welcomed it. Let them all listen as Eli, savior of the Druid’s Grove, conqueror of Grymforge and scourge of the Absolute went down on him and fucked him senseless with her perfect fucking mouth. He was the only one she’d do this to, the only one she’d pleasure. No one else got to experience this, see her like this.

He was hers.

The thought set off a wave of arousal so potent that he felt his cock spasm in response, leaking precum that Eli’s tongue then swirled across his tip as he continued to rut into her. The pressure between his legs was mounting as a possessive and greedy emotion seized him.

“Darling…oh gods, darling, not yet…” Astarion wasn’t going to last like this, but he was not ready to be undone. Not yet.

He opened his lust-blown eyes and a feral groan tumbled out of him at the sight of Eli between his legs, sweaty and fervent and his. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin and encouraged her off his dick. Her eyes met his and the mixture of arousal and craving in her dilated pupils slammed into him so hard his chest hitched.

Nobody looked at him like that. Ever.

He needed more.

Wordlessly, he pulled her up to him and their mouths crashed together in a wild and wanton kiss that was all tongues and teeth. He could taste himself on her, salty and pungent and it drove him mad.

They only separated for a moment as Astarion pulled Eli’s shirt up and over her head before removing his own. Then, they were tumbling back onto the bedroll, Astarion still pinned beneath Eli as their hands greedily explored one another.

He began fumbling with the buttons of Eli’s pants, the last barrier between them, and licked into her mouth as she moaned desperately into their bruising kiss. She was writhing on top of him, bent over him and straddling his bare torso as her hips rolled against him shamelessly. Undoing the buttons, he slipped his hand beneath her underwear and ran a teasing finger between the lips of her swollen clit.

Eli whined and gasped as his touch and Astarion laughed with wicked mirth, gliding his finger back and forth between her wet folds but never going deeper. She was soaked, worked up into a frenzy and it emboldened his ego to no end.

“I didn’t realize sucking on my cock could make you so wet,” he purred with no small amount of self-satisfaction.

His finger traced a circle along the rim of her pulsating clit, earning a high-pitched moan that shuddered out of her throat and went straight to his dick. She tried to reposition herself, needing his fingers in places they weren’t.

He grinned at her distress, earning a reproachful bite to his lower lip that did nothing to dissuade him.

“Less working your mouth and more working you – oh fuck!” Eli cried out as Astarion pushed two fingers up into her, burring them deep.

She bolted upright, arching her back as her mouth fell open and her head fell back, a slew of profane and needful curses tearing from her throat. He felt her clamp down on his fingers, hands pressing on his chest for balance as she brazenly rode his fingers.

He gazed up at her as his fingers stroked and hooked at her throbbing walls, causing little twitches and spasms to filter throughout her body. Her skin glistened in the foggy moonlight that seeped in through the walls of the tent, sweat-slicked breasts bouncing with each thrust of her hips as her head lolled, eyes shut reverently as she worked to satisfy herself. His dick bobbed against his belly with each roll of her hips, and he could feel a warm trail of precum rolling down the edge of his hip. His erection was so stiff it verged on painful, and when he felt her walls begin to flutter around his fingers, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

He pulled his hand back from within her core and the gasping whine that erupted from her lips nearly choked him.

“I’m sorry, my sweet,” he crooned, wrapping an arm around her back as he braced himself with the other and sat up. “Bear with me for just a moment. I dare not make you wait any longer.”

Astarion tipped her back and laid her down, yanking both her pants and underclothes off in a swift motion. He settled his hips between her legs, the head of his cock pressing agonizingly at her entrance.

He hovered above her for a moment, drinking her in. She was a gorgeous mess, eyes blown wide with craving and skin flushed hot and pink. Her chest was heaving as she gazed up at him with a look that would have stopped his heart if it weren’t already still. Adoration beamed back at him as she smiled and Astarion felt a twisting deep in his chest.

He knew then, with absolute certainty, that whatever was between them was so much more than anything he had planned for it to be. It terrified and amazed him. Welling up emotions within himself he wasn’t sure how to grasp or understand. He didn’t want to hide from it, though. He’d been hiding and skulking and manipulating for too long.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Astarion bent down, kissing Eli deep and longingly. Hoping that even just a shred of what he felt could be communicated through the embrace. She sighed into it, eyes closing and hands carding into his hair before they slid down to his back. He shivered as her fingers traced tenderly over the scars there, careful and deferential.

Breaking the kiss, he hooked an arm under her left leg and rested it up on his shoulder, pressing it forward and stretching her apart. Lining himself up to her warm core, he rested his forehead against her own and felt her squirm impatiently beneath him.

“Fuck, Astarion, please.”

That was all it took. He pushed inside of her, body shuddering at the enveloping and soft warmth. He felt his abdomen clench, waves of arousal rocketing down his legs and up his spine as he sank into her to the hilt. Astarion groaned, pulling back before he buried himself again, then again, then again. Eli gasped with each thrust, arching her back and angling her hips for a better position. The leg he’d pulled over his shoulder tensed and squeezed, pressing down on him as he snapped his hips up and into her. A low growl rose up, unbidden, from his throat. He was throbbing and needy and she felt so fucking good. Warm, wet and tight as he pressed into her walls and felt her contract around him. Their eyes were locked in and a rapturous shudder ran the length of his spine as Eli’s face contorted in ecstasy, her mouth opening in a silent and delirious cry.

He pulled back again. Her eyes were begging. Another thrust, making her back arch up as she bucked her hips into him, needing him deeper.

He was entranced with her face and the raw longing he saw there. He plunged in again, drawing a high squeal from her that turned into a breathy rasp as she closed around him and shook against his body. Her eyes never left his, and he drank in every mewl and cry as she looked at him with so much affection and craving that Astarion was tempted to duck his head and hide from the level of vulnerability she was giving him.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. No one else got to see this. No one else would see Eli – hero, warrior, leader, fledgling legend that she was – shivering and squirming underneath him as he pumped into her. This was all for him, and him alone.

She was falling apart, losing herself in the thrill and the ecstasy, every sob for more spurring him on as he stared into her enthralled eyes. Her hands were everywhere, desperately running up and down and all over, clutching and pulling him closer while she pushed at the small of his back, directing his thrusting pace into one she could match with euphoria-inducing turns and twists of her hips.

The wild and undone look in her eyes coupled with the unrelenting throbbing of his cock was near enough to drive him mad. Electric jolts shot down his legs from his groin with every plunge, and his muscles felt as if they would seize at any second. It felt amazing. She felt amazing, and gods she was looking at him like he was the gravitational pull of the universe. It tore at his seams and pulled a centuries-old ache from his dead heart.

He wanted to be someone to her. Someone important. Someone she needed.

It was agonizing and frightening, that feeling. The last time he’d even remotely felt anything near to it, he��d been locked away and isolated in a coffin for over a year. Punishment for such sentimental wretchedness.

Astarion grit his teeth, clawing his way back from the memory and pushing it all down. Those were things left for later. Not now. Not when Eli was crying out and babbling about how incredible he felt, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss that he swore was going to set him on fire.

The pressure was building between his legs again as every muscle below his chest began to tense. His mind fixated on the lewd and wetly rhythmic sounds coming from between them and he could feel her slick arousal all over his groin and lower torso. His mind began fuzzing, triggered by all the erotic sounds and the building stimulation threatening to explode in his core.

He wanted this. He wanted to feel her cum beneath him. He wanted to feel himself truly and completely let go for the first time in centuries.

He pulled back from their kiss, the hair on his neck pricking in response to the small whine that left Eli’s throat as he did so.

He continued to pound into her, hard and measured, dick pulsating inside of her as the buildup became nearly unbearable. Beyond the pounding of blood in his ears he could hear himself grunting with each thrust, deep and animalistic and so fucking needy as the delirium mounted all around them.

Astarion leveled his eyes with Eli’s, face hovering above hers, and smiled at the unabated and desperate look she was giving him.

“Do you really want me that badly, darling?” he asked, panting and nearly out of his mind with wonder at the sheer amount of desire coursing between them.

There was no teasing in his question, no flirtatious overtones or hidden meanings. He needed to know.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the world narrowed.

“Gods, Astarion, I want all of you,” Eli nearly cried, arms tightening around him as she came near to climax. “Not just this,” she moaned, pressing her face into his neck as her back arched off the ground. She was shaking she was so close.

“I want you with me,” she whined into his ear and the desperation in her words was intoxicating. “In all the ways that matter,” she continued, her voice raw and teetering on the edge of bliss. “…with me. Please!”

Astarion clung to her like a man drowning, eyes closed and face pressed into her hair. The scent of her was everywhere and he reveled in the frantic intimacy of the moment, blindly grabbing at her upturned hips and bottoming out into her with a force that sent lightning zipping through his veins and stars bursting behind his eyelids.

The pressure between his legs released and Astarion came with all the subtlety of a smokepowder barrel blowing alight, all the muscles in his legs and lower torso seizing and relaxing in bursts.

“Gods, Eli. Fuck!” he cried out against her, swept up in the climax as the world fell away.

Eli followed, her inner walls contracting around him, bolstering his orgasm as she shuddered and cried out for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed tight, wanting him full and solid as she came with him inside.

Astarion moved his hips in a circular motion, gentle and sensual, letting Eli ride out the last of her orgasm as the both of them came down. They were a tangle of arms, legs, sweat and ragged breath, neither willing to let go of the other as a hush fell over the tent. They rested in the quiet, laying in each other’s arms, content in the intimate sense of togetherness. He could feel her racing heart beat beneath her skin as he rested his head under her chin, her pulse lulling him into a comfortable daze. The scent of the blood in her veins was hot and sweet and he reveled in the thrum of life that surrounded her. A life he was growing more and more attached to…

Suddenly, Eli snorted and Astarion’s eyes snapped open curiously. He lifted his head and quirked a brow down at her as she tried and failed to suppress a fit of giggling. He tensed, unsure and more than a little confused by her bizarre response to what he thought had been a rather exhilarating experience.

She squeezed his bicep reassuringly, a delighted grin settling on her face.

“Sorry,” she laughed quietly. “I was just thinking, there’s no way anyone in this camp is still sleeping. We’re going to have to apologize in the morning.”

Astarion’s eyes softened as the corner of his mouth twitched up fondly. He then made a show of rolling his eyes before he buried his face back into her neck.

“You are quite mad, aren’t you?” he mumbled, unable to keep a smile out of his words. “I’ll go to my second grave before I apologize for what we just did.”

_______________________________

The sounds of muffled shuffling outside the tent woke Astarion the next morning. He tracked the sound with his ears, unwilling to open his eyes and rouse himself from his sleepy haze.

Eli lay pressed up against him in his arms, her head nestled near his chest. He’d pulled a blanket over them at some point during the night in an effort to retain the warmth coming off her body. Considering his undead nature, he could only sap her body heat from her, rather than contribute to it, and that fact bothered him a bit more now than it had in the past.

He traced a finger lazily across her back, feeling the ridges and divots of multiple angry scars she had no memory of earning. Eli’s body was a war story, just as damaged as her broken mind with twisted scarring and gnarled blemishes that held their secrets close. They were the remnants of a brutality that was difficult to reconcile with the person he’d come to know Eli as, and it made her all the more beautiful for it.

He didn’t mind her brokenness, and he was comforted by her imperfection. He knew all to well what it was like to be torn open over and over…

The clang of a cookpot being hoisted over the camp’s fire caused him to flinch, and Eli stirred, yawning into his bare chest.

Astarion opened his eyes, blinking as they focused in the gloom. Early morning shadows crept along the walls of the tent and he could now hear Gale’s distinct and nervous muttering as the wizard went about his morning routine, preparing coffee and some manner of breakfast near the center campfire. There was another voice, too, hushed and careful, as if the speaker didn’t want to be overhead.

“Oh, would you two stop squawking like a pair of gossipy hens!” Karlach’s voice boomed out over the hushed muttering, both scolding and amused in tone. “You both are just jealous it wasn’t either of you causing that racket last night. Hells knows I am,” she bemoaned.

“Is that what Gale and Wyll are prattling on about?” Lae’zel’s voice barked from over near her tent. “Sex can provide excellent relief from the stresses of our chaotic situation. It is both a healthy and helpful activity, though I am assuming neither of you have much familiarity with its benefits considering how you chatter like scandalized adolescents.”

Eli cut off a laugh in the back of her throat and Astarion smirked.

Gale and Wyll had begun to boisterously protest before Karlach interrupted, clearly directing her next statement in the direction of Eli’s tent.

“They might as well get out here so we can properly taunt them for not inviting any of us!”

Eli rolled onto her back then sat up, shrugging the blanket off and arching her spine in a fluid stretch, arms raised. Wordlessly, she then bent down, kissing him with a tenderness that made his chest ache, before she leaned away and stood, beginning to dress.

“Sorry, Karlach, but I draw the line at superheated engine that could melt my face off and angry unstable bomb that could level a small city when considering who I sleep with.” Eli pulled her shirt over her head and turned to wink at him before she unfastened the tent flap and stepped out into camp.

Karlach’s boisterous laughter greeted her and Astarion frowned as the tent flap fell back into place, leaving him alone with thoughts he needed to sort through.

Denial wasn’t going to work any longer. And gods, was he in trouble.

180 notes · View notes

ahoycaptainautumn · 9 months

Text

Fated Mates Part 4

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

Astarion and you find yourselves sharing a single bed room for the night. But a nightmare waking you in the middle of the night only brings you closer, much closer than either of you anticipated.

Your eyes nearly bug out in disbelief. Was this the idea of the receptionist's “special room”?

“Cat got your tongue, dear? You know there’s lots that can be done with a tongue-“ Astarion saunters in after you, stopping in his step at your shared sight. His shoulder brushes yours as you stand side by side. Astarion gives you a side eye before beginning to open his mouth. You hold up your hand to silence him as you feel the headache melting in behind your eyes.

“I’m going to go talk to the lady. Now.” You scamper out of the room before Astarion can say another word. You run down the steps and go to the front desk immediately. The lady who was once running it is no longer there. You nearly shake the bell sitting on the desk. But a small sign stops you. A yellowed sign lies in the center. On it is written “Sorry, no vacancy”. You sigh in frustration. All you wanted was a night of peace. The ability to relax even just for a few hours. It looked like it was now either sharing with Astarion or sleeping with the wolves. You couldn’t tell which option would be worse. You turn back and head to your room.

Astarion sits sprawled across the bed. His elbows hold him up as his legs dangle off the side. He looks over at you with an unamused gaze. He raises an eyebrow to you. You shrug your shoulders and give a sigh.

“No one at the desk. No vacancy. No luck.” You kick your shoes off and jump on the opposite side of the bed in a huff. You stick your palms into your eyes and try to rub the frustration from yourself. Astarion turns over to you and grasps your closest wrist in his hand. He clears your hand from your eye. You open one eye and look over at him. His hand flows downwards and holds your chin in his hand. He spins your face to look at his own. You lower both your hands and hold them on top of your hips.

“As much as I love to see you upset, you are welcome to the bed.” He says. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. You glare in accusation.

“And what do you get out of it? There’s no way you’re doing it out of the goodness of your cold heart.” You accuse. He scoffs at you, crossing his arms.

“Take my rare act of kindness while you can. Besides, it’s not like I sleep.” He shrugs. You sit up on the bed.

“What do you mean you don’t sleep?” You ask. Astarion chuckles at you.

“Oh little killer, I thought you knew everything about vampires?” He mocks. Your cheeks flare red.

“Well I mean- I know enough- I think.” You try to defend.

“Well, vampires don’t sleep. Except for a deep sleep to regain health or power. But mostly it’s just meditation.” He explains. He gets up from the bed and goes over to the fainting couch next to the window. He faces the window and looks out at the view. You take it as a sign that you have truly won the bed and make way to get comfortable. You shimmy out of most of your clothes besides your under garments and get comfortable under the covers.

“And don’t even think about biting my neck or I’ll wring yours.” You threaten. A small snicker escapes his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, goodnight little killer.” Astarion softly blows out the candles around the room. Snuggled under the warmth of the blanket and the tranquil space of the room, you fall asleep nearly instantly.

Your hands fall flat against the elegant oak doors in front of you. Grand murals lay chiseled artistically throughout the wood. They look familiar in a sense. Almost as if the images created were of memories past. Pushing them open, you walk into an elegant ballroom. Not any ballroom, it’s your father’s old ballroom. Gold accents the cylinder columns lining the room. White marble flooring sprawls across the floor. Ornate windows bow out the front showing the night fallen garden below. Large pristine mirrors border one edge of the room reflecting the people within. Beautiful women in exquisite gowns along with men in pressed suits line the dance floor. All of them were wearing a masquerade mask accented with pearls and jewels. You reach up and find one resting on your face as well. Looking down you notice you’re wearing that same gown from the shop earlier along with red heels. Your hair is put together with intricate braids cascading down your back. Before you can question anything out loud a red gloved hand takes yours. You look up to red eyes staring back at you. White hair cascades over a dark mask with a cunning smile. Astarion wears an ebony suit with red accents within the tie and cufflinks. You try to respond, to yell, to say anything but find yourself mute. Astarion only smiles more before walking you to the center of the floor. A circle of people crowd you as they watch Astarion twist your linked hands above your head. His other hand finds purchase on your waist as your hand rests on his chest. A band from somewhere within the room begins to play a slow tune. Your feet move along with Astarions, bodies gliding with grace across the floor. As much as you know you should fight this, to unclench yourself from his grasp, the feeling of being here, of dancing on this floor, quells you. How long had it been since you were last here? Since you last danced with a handsome man into the twilight hours. To twirl and delight in company. To not worry about a single thing but gowns and events. To worry about marrying a wonderful heir for fathers company as your biggest trial. At the thought of your father you look out into the crowd for his face. There, at the far edges of the crowd, sit your mother and father clapping and smiling at your show. Your eyes well up with tears. How you missed them.

“I know your dancing skills are pitiful but it’s truly nothing to cry over.” Astarion jests. You lightly punch his chest as you continue dancing.

“I missed this. I missed all of this.” You whisper. Your heart swells at the love and longing you feel as you sway across the floor.

“You could have it all back you know.” Astarion replies. Your head shoots up to meet his gaze. He smiles at you once again.

“How?” You ask. Astarion brings his head next to yours as his lips close in near your ear. You blink and the room goes desolate. Lights flicker above as a film of decay sweeps over the entire hall. The band turns into a twisted sound, something macabre. You try to turn your head towards Astarion and find your neck fixed in place. As he sweeps you in a circle you come face to face with the wall of mirrors. Instead of silver hair, long black hair sweeps down his back. You side eye your hands and see long claw-like fingernails encasing your own.

“You should have been alongside your family that night. A shame really. I can quickly remedy that.” The man speaks. You recognize that voice. You shudder as you finally are able to pull away. Cazador’s face greets yours with a toothy smile. Long canines glisten in the warped lighting. You go to scream but find yourself mute again. Cazador lunges on you, his mouth going for the nape of your neck. Your hands fly up in defense but you find his own pinning them to your side easily. He bears his fangs and goes towards your neck. The scream aching to leap from your throat finally does and drowns out the music in the room.

You feel strong arms shaking your shoulders. On instinct you throw a fist upwards and catch whomever it is in their nose.

“By Gods! What in the seven hells-“ Astarion grits out as you blink awake. You find Astarion bent over holding his nose in his hands. You take a quick assessment of the room. It’s the same room you had rented earlier. Not your home. Not the ballroom. Not Cazador. You’re safe. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You look down to see your hands shaking as they hold you up in the bed.

“What the hell happened?” You ask. Astarion gives you a side eye before wiping his nose.

“That’s an odd way to say thank you. But if you must know, you started thrashing around and then started screaming. I tried to wake you before everyone in the bloody realm tried to barge in and see what was happening.” Astarion explains. You look down into your hands and try to will them to stop shaking. Your mind may realize it was a dream but your heart and body were late to catch up. It felt like you couldn’t catch your breath, that the floor was spinning and falling out from beneath you all at once.

“Now if you are all done with that I’ll be going back to my silent meditation, thank you.” Astarion goes to turn away from you and sit back on his couch before your hand shoots out. You don’t even register what you’re doing before your hand wraps around his much larger one. Your eyes fall to the floor, unable to look the vampire in the face. You can’t help the shake that comes out in your words.

“Please. Stay.” you whisper. Astarion can feel the quiver in your hold. The strange fear laced into your voice. Whatever had scared you had well and truly scared you, even more than your hate for him. He found himself unable to hold back the snarky smile that he pulled.

“Oh? Need the big bad vampire here with you? Honestly if you wanted me in your bed with you all you had to do was ask. I would have let you down, lightly.” He bites back. Your grip instantly leaves him as you go to turn to your other side with a huff. He finds it out the way his heart drops at the loss of contact. At the way he almost, almost, misses your hand in his. Stupid mating bond.

“Just forget I said anything, I must be delirious if I thought-” You begin but Astarion cuts you off by falling into place next to you on the bed. He sits against the headboard next to you.

“Well don’t ever say I’ve never done anything for you. Any more screaming though and you’ll find a more violent means of stopping it.” He retorts. He crosses his arms and stares straight ahead. You let out a small giggle at the sight. He gives you a glare in return.

“You are one strange vampire.” you reply. With that you snuggle back into a comfortable spot in bed. You try not to be near or touch Astarion but it can’t even be helped with how close he sits to your body. You surprise yourself with how comforting you find it to be sleeping next to someone. To know that someone is watching your back and keeping you safe. Even if that person is a blood sucking vampire. You blame it on his damned cologne, he smelled far too intoxicating for you to ever admit. The smell and feeling of him coddles you into a restful sleep.

Astarion thought once he had heard your soft snore and restful heart rate that he would get up from the bed. But he finds it fascinating watching you sleep so peacefully. Here you were, a self pronounced vampire hater and hunter, and you fall asleep so easily next to him. He thinks you a fool, a dangerous and stupid fool. He brushes hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. Though, he may be a bit of a fool as well.

Astarion hadn’t meant to fall into such a deep and relaxed meditation. At some point in the night he felt a tranquility he hadn’t in some time. With that relaxation came him drifting more deeply into the bed and under the covers. So tranquil in fact that as you begin to wake you find strong arms wrapped around your core. Astarion’s chin rests on the top of your head as he grips you in your sleep. Though he himself is cold you feel nothing but warmth. Your sleepy mind wants to snuggle in further. To not leave the calm of this moment. But your mind catches up and you attempt to pull yourself from his superhuman strength. He doesn’t budge at first and you push harder.

“Damn it Astarion! Let go!” You thrash. You wiggle in his grip and your ass falls back against his hips. His hard length is easily evident against you. On instinct Astarion’s hips rut into yours. You let out a choked moan and clamp a hand against your mouth. Astarion stirs from his meditation and realizes the predicament he is in. He releases his arms from you as if you are made of acid. You scamper to the far end of the bed and get on your knees. You turn your body towards him as Astarion does the same.

“Now what in the hells do you think you are doing?” Astarion accuses with a scowl. You gap in disbelief. You point a finger into his chest forcefully.

“Me?! What do you think you are doing? I wanted someone on look out, not a damned cuddle!” you counter. His hand snakes around the one you have pointed in his chest and goes to push it from him. Your nostrils flare in anger as your hands grab him by the scruff of his collar. You inadvertently pull him closer as your knees make distance forward. He replies in kind and grabs onto your locked grip. He bares his fangs at you and nearly hisses in his growing frustration and maybe, slight, embarrassment.

“As if I would give you a cuddle.. let alone anything!” His nails dig into your skin and they bite just slightly into your skin. He brings his face in closer at his next statement. “As if I would stoop so low.”

Your anger only gets flamed more and you use your grip on his shirt as leverage as you throw him back down onto the bed. He is briefly taken by surprise before he swings a leg up and reverses your positions. Your back slams back into the mattress. You go to throw a punch at his face but only nearly make contact before his hands snatches yours up and above your head. You wrap your legs around his hips and try to push off to get traction and pull away. But with your movements his hips come down and into yours. His bulge gyrates into your barely clothed intimate folds. You bite your lips in time to stop the moan from coming out once again. But Astarion can tell. He can hear the racing of your heart. The smell of your heat. He brings his head down closer to yours as you stare daggers.

“How vile.” he whispers in a mocking tone. He’s enjoying this, enjoying seeing you helpless and needy. It fills a primal part of him that begs for him to do more, to go further.

“Disgusting.” you spit back as you tilt your head closer to him. Pure rage is felt in your shared stare and the air is thick with anger and anticipation. Your breath only comes in quick spurts and you feel like the world is spinning. Astarion brings his face ever closer to yours.

“Dreadful.” he bites back. Your lips quiver and you can’t help your tongue from darting out to wetten them. Astarion watches your movement and his look shows nothing but absolute hunger.

“Repulsive.” you whisper against his lips. All it takes is your quick glance down at his lips before all sense is wiped from Astarion’s mind. His lips crash against your own instantly. Teeth clash as he throws his body weight against your frame. Your legs pull him down further onto you as move down onto his clothed member. Astarion hisses as his hands leave your wrists and grasp each side of your hips. He grinds his lower half into you as his hands leave indents into your sides. Your hands immediately fly up and wrap around his neck. He ruts against you harshly and you freely moan into his mouth.

“Such an easy little vixen.” Astarion laughs. One of your hands wraps into his silver hair and yanks it back. His red eyes glare into you as you smile in his discomfort.

“Not so easy you beast.” You respond. You flip your bodies and find yourself in his lap. His hand winds up and to your neck as holds pressure on your pulse. His other fingers curl into your hair and hold your head still. His lips find yours again and you fling your arms around his neck once more. You pull yourself impossibly closer, chest to chest with a man you hate with all your heart. His tongue darts out and begs entrance into your mouth. You open and immediately bite down on his tongue. His grip on your hip and head tighten deliciously.

“You little witch.” he snarls. Before you can lash back at him the hand holding your hip presses you into him in time with his thrust against you. You gasp at the delectable friction it gives to your aching core. With your moment of weakness Astarion claims dominance over your mouth. His tongue lashes out along your own as you battle for dominance. One of your hands curls into his hair while the other grips his back in need for something, anything, to grab onto. The hand holding your hip snakes up and under your undershirt and makes its way to your breast. Heavy heated breathes are shared between you two as his thumb just barely grazes over your nipple before a voice stops you.

“Check out time is 0800 sharp! Enough beauty sleep Astarion and let’s get going!” Lae’zel pounds on the door. Astarion and you pull away from each other instantly and you can only stare at one another. You take in his messy curls, the red tint to his lips, the animalistic hunger in his eyes. You know you don’t look any better. You hop off of him in a hurry and go to the bathroom to change without a word. Astarion can only watch your retreating form as he tries to wrap his mind around what had just occurred. By Gods, you were dangerous.

part three here

part five here

If you want tagged in the next part just comment and ill reply when the next one is done!

#smut #reader insert #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bd3 #mates #balders gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #shadowheart #halsin #karlach #enemies to lovers

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lirotation · 3 months

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Ever since a discussion about the mortality of my human Tav with my fellow Tavs on Tumblr, the idea has become an intrusive thought🤣. I couldn't shake it from my mind, so I decided to confront it. I chose to explore the worst-case scenario.

Astarion X F!Tav, warning, character death.

Oh my gosh, I couldn't think about anything else! But now I feel better =) The lyrics are from the song "Let Me Down Slowly" by Alec Benjamin, which seems to be popping up everywhere for me recently! It was meant to be.

_____________________

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, obscuring the old gothic manor in a heavy gray veil. Inside, the candles flickered softly as Astarion combed his fingers gently through Amaara's hair. Her skin was pale and cold under his touch, she had passed in her sleep, her life of many decades finally at its end.

Astarion dressed her in finery befitting his princess, never taking his eyes from her still face. He lifted her fragile body, holding her close to his silent heart, and carried her through the corridors of their home, the echo of his steps filling the emptiness left behind.

Down into the secret crypt below he took her. The chamber was illuminated by candles that cast dancing shadows on the stone walls. He lay her gently in an ornate double coffin, positioning her with care one last time. His vision blurred as tears threatened to spill out at the thought of an eternity without her laughter to drive away the dark.

So soon...too soon...

A dry, wrecked sob clawed up his throat as he stretched his lean body beside hers inside the casket. He turned to face her, drinking in every beloved feature - the graceful arch of her brow, the gentle slope of her nose. With infinite tenderness, he ran the back of his hand against the line of her jaw, tracing its elegant curve.

He threaded his long, pale fingers into her thinned silver hair, soft strands pooling like mercury in his palm. He cradled the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing the tender skin behind her ear just the way she always loved. Each gesture was etched with reverence and sorrow, communicating wordlessly all the affection and devotion that overflowed from his shattered heart.

In the muted candlelight, she could have been merely sleeping, poised on the cusp of awakening. But her skin was growing colder under his touch with each moment, the last of her warmth fleeing to merge with the eternal night. Soon all that would remain of his beating heart would be a decomposing shell. The anguished realization tore through him anew, and he released a thin, keening cry like a creature skewered through the soul.

At last, Astarion forced his quivering fingers to release her. With agonizing restraint, he gently smoothed back a few errant strands of her pale hair, arranging them flawlessly across the plush satin pillow.

He shifted slowly onto his back beside her. Reaching up with a leaden arm, he grasped the ornately carved lid of the casket. As he gradually pulled the heavy cover down, shadow crept over their forms. Her alabaster features were swallowed up inch by inch in the hungry darkness.

With a muffled thud that reverberated through his entire spirit, the cover closed completely. The chamber became at once a bridal suite and a tomb, its occupants trapped by cruel fate.

Astarion shuddered in the darkness. The familiar confines of a coffin, once a hellish prison, now served as his refuge from the fresh anguish threatening to consume him.

When Cazador had buried him years ago, the crushing isolation and helplessness nearly shattered Astarion’s sanity. But here, cocooned with his lost beloved, the cold casket took on the bittersweet air of a marriage bed on their final night together. He welcomed the isolation, sought solace in it. Here he could muffle the bleeding, gaping wound in his soul with the old, healed over scars of past trauma. By wrapping himself in familiar pain, its sharp sting would numb the fresh, unendurable agony of Amaara’s absence.

In this chamber of death, Astarion found his only chance for even transient peace. Here he could hold the cruelties of time and fate at bay, if only for a few decades of dreamless slumber next to his beloved. Here he could forget, could almost pretend the sweet burden in his arms still drew breath... before mere memory of her touch faded like everything else into the hungry dark.

#You know who you are lol #This did not really happen to my couple #just an exercise #now I can go back to my WIPs

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amandacanwrite · 3 months

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The Violet Thread of Fate || Part Four: A Bath, A Temptation

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Alternating Between Gale and Elinna (tav)

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It's not her fault; she hasn't ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she's read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn't take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || About 5,300 Words

Warnings || Age gap (about ten years, both adults) description of pining for someone's body (Gale pining for Elinna.) Mentions of abuse and neglect.

A/N || I hope you all like this installment of Violet Thread of Fate! Apologies for what seems like a relatively low-stakes set of chapters, I am trying to do some set up for bring Halsin, Astarion and The Fox into the narrative, but I needed to get Elinna and Gale just a smiiiidgen more established for it to go the way I'd like it to!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

A Bath

It was a cold breeze that woke Elinna.

It slipped in from under the old wooden door; through the window, if it could be called that. It was just an opening in the decrepit masonry of the castle where she’d been left to rest.

It took her a moment for her to realize that the lumpy hay mattress and the damp, threadbare blanket on top of her were not her lumpy mattress and damp blanket from The Nest. For a moment she thought meeting Gale and winding up on the nautiloid was a dream; albeit a long winded one.

But when she rolled over in the bed and pulled the blanket tighter around her to fight off the bitter cold of the coastal breeze, she opened her eyes for a moment. There in the moon-gray dark of the night she found a room she was not at all familiar with.

She scanned the room in a half-awoken state, not thinking any real thoughts–more like bursts of impulse between the undulating waves of sleep that threatened to take her away in their churn.

She saw the usual desk. The privacy drape. The almost melted candle. Her waistcoat had been taken off and neatly folded, set on the writing desk. Her bloodied boots sat in a pile not far away from there; her gloves tossed down with them, also bloodied.. This room wasn’t her room…so what…ah–that’s right.

She’d been so exhausted she didn’t feel herself drift off to sleep. Gale had been carrying her on his back. Where was he?

Another breeze blew into the room and set her teeth to chattering. Gods above, how was it colder here than at The Nest?

She rose to her bare feet, keeping the blanket tight around her as she shuffled over to the desk.

She knew very few spells, of course. And most of them, she only knew with very little command–but there was one she was decent at, because she used it nearly every day. She could produce a flame.

Nothing terribly impressive, mind you–but it was more convenient than having to ask the ArchLibrarian for matches; more convenient than having him ask her why she was going through so many of them and finding out that she’d been sneaking books into her room to read while the others slept.

She breathed into her cold hands before shaking them, encouraging her blood flow into her fingertips. After giving her hands a few moments to catch up with the rest of her, she focused on the fingertips of her dominant hand, she took a deep breath and plucked at the same little flicker of magic she always used for this little party trick. She snapped her fingers, and sure enough, a single flame engulfed the farthest knuckle of her index finger, as if her two middle fingers had been a flint struck by her thumb.

She lowered that finger to the wick of the single candle in the room before shaking the flame off her fingertip the same way one might do with a matchstick.

It was hardly enough light for human eyes, but Elinna didn’t need much. She’d been lucky to pick up darkvision from her half-drow lineage; an appreciated perk despite how much she hated the violet tinge of her scars and freckles.

She caught a glimpse of those old scars on the inside of her arm and wondered idly if Gale had seen them. Wondered if he’d made any judgements of her based off of them.

The doorknob jangled and turned and Gale appeared in the doorway. Elinna looked over at him and was surprised at the flood of relief that filled her lungs. She hadn’t realized she was worried that he’d left her there and gone off on his own, but that was the only explanation she had for the shift in her sense of ease.

He was holding two tin plates with porridge, boiled fish, and roasted carrots piled in small, tidy quantities. They met eyes and Gale’s eye’s flicked about her.

“Oh–you’re awake,” Gale said, voice a bit choked with something she couldn’t identify.. “Are you feeling better?”

“Is your…hair wet?” she asked him.

He was newly dressed in a similar robe to before, but this one was slightly different. It had a shorter length with a more open panel in the front. He was wearing some more sturdy leather boots as well, and he had a new multi-layered belt with a knife and short sword holstered to it. He carried two small packs over one shoulder, which he dropped onto the ground near the desk.

“Oh, ah, yes,” he said, hurrying over to the writing desk to set down the plates. The scent of lavender and bay leaf rolled off of his warmer body with him in such close proximity. “I went to refresh myself and see if I couldn’t conjure a few comforts to get us through the night. While searching, I happened to find a natural hot spring.”

“You’re kidding!” she said, feeling a swell of relief all over again. Not only would she get to have a bath but a warm bath? What a treat. “You have to show me where it is! I’m dying for a hot bath.”

“It’s not far–just a hop and a skip behind the–”

A click sounded from the door and they both looked toward it. Gale’s brow tensed before he walked back over to the door, testing the knob. A willowy voice came through the door a moment later.

“Seeing as supper has been served and your lodgings are in order, we will be locking the door to prevent any unfortunate mishaps through the night,” it said.

“Absolutely not–we’re guests, not prisoners!” Gale shouted through the door. “Unlock this door right now.”

There was no answer.

“Open the door!” Gale demanded again.

“Don’t bother,” Elinna sighed. “He’s probably already gone–don’t you have a spell that could unlock it?”

“Under other circumstances, but I’m afraid my capacity to reach into the weave is utterly tapped out until I get a proper night of sleep,” he said a bit sourly. “How did you ever put up with conditions like this?” Gale griped, turning to her, his brow still furrowed. “I’ve never met such learned men who were so…so…asinine.”

Elinna shrugged and leaned against the edge of the desk, her ample hips displacing one of the unfortunate looking plates. “You get used to it, I guess,” she said. “They never locked us in when I was at The Nest, but we also never really got visitors…maybe it’s standard protocol.”

“You’d think they had Karsus’s Grimoire locked up in their archives,” he said, smearing a hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

While Gale had his conniption, Elinna was realizing with no shortage of disappointment that her hopes for a hot bath were all but dashed. Unless…

“Hey Gale…” She said as looked over toward the bath with a little pout. “I know you said you’re tapped out…but do you think you have the energy for a little cantrip?”

“Probably,” he said, looking skeptically at the plate of food and pushing the boiled fish with one of the wooden utensils given to them. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…do you think you could conjure up some hot water for me to take a bath?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gale said as he blinked, his brows shooting up. “With me in the room?”

“Please,” she begged gently. “I feel so disgusting. If I have to sleep like this while you’re sitting in here looking all sparkly and smelling nice, I’m going to feel even worse.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Elinna, you shouldn’t take baths with strange men you just met. Er–rather–with them nearby.”

“You’re not strange! You’re Gale Dekarios! And there are drapes for privacy,” she said insistently. “It’s not like I’ll be putting on a show for you or something.”

“A Drape! Singular! And it’s holding onto its sorry, threadbare life by a thread!”

“Gale, what else am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’m still covered in blood and sweat–I need a bath.”

“You can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll have our very bland supper–get some sleep, and–”

He met her eyes again and she wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was it seemed to pull on his heart strings. He rubbed the back of his neck before using the same hand to smear down his face.

“Fine,” he said. “I got my chance to clean up, it seems only fair that you get yours. I can only imagine how wrong it feels with myself being properly tidied up and you still…well… I must emphasize, however, that this falls squarely outside of the usual confines of propriety.”

Elinna beamed and nodded eagerly, thankfully.

“Duly noted,” Elinna said. “I promise I won’t tell your mother.”

He leveled her a deadpan look. “Don’t patronize me,” he said. “It’s not about being afraid of my mother it’s–”

“I’m just teasing you,” Elinna said. “Don’t worry, Gale. I trust you to be a gentleman. And besides that–I’m pretty sure that you don’t see me as…well– I just mean–it’s not as if I’m trying to seduce you. If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly.

“I’ll be quick,” she said. “I promise.”

Gale heaved a sigh and picked up the other plate, handing it over to her.

“Let’s eat this unfortunate meal and then I’ll get your bath ready,” he said. “It looks utterly inedible, but we’ll need whatever strength we can get for the journey tomorrow.”

She smiled and nodded, taking a bite of the familiar mush on her plate.

A Temptation

Gale had always been told that hunger was the best seasoning–he supposed that didn’t apply to the fare served at The Scribe’s Guild. Yet he choked down every bite of those roasted carrots; that boiled fish–in hopes of prolonging the inevitable.

If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.

Why hadn’t he spoken up then? Why hadn’t he argued with her further?

Well, likely because, in order for him to object to what she’d said, he would have to admit his own embarrassing thoughts of attraction to the young woman. Admit that he had been having plenty of improprietous thoughts about her as he had her hoisted up on his back–when his hand had supported the softness of her waist.

He told himself it was a strategic move. That he needed her in order to safeguard against what might be catastrophic down the road. The true resurrection in his possession would do little good without someone available to cast it, after all. He needed an ally and he wouldn't risk losing one because he was touch starved and lonesome and…er… long deprived.

He told himself that the sooner she bathed, the sooner she would be properly dressed. The less he would have to remind himself to look away from the delicate skin of her chest and the way the neckline of her muslin dress fell off her shoulders despite the number of times she pushed her sleeves back up where it was meant to sit.

Now that he thought about it–very little of her clothing seemed to fit properly. Her waistcoat fit well enough, but her dress was oddly loose; she seemed to swim in it.

He was glad he’d been able to find something for her to wear, hoped that they fit properly and that she didn’t mind wearing Mystra’s colors–and slightly outdated fashions. Then again, he doubted The Nest cared much about the current trends in women’s clothing.

When they were finally finished eating, Gale begrudgingly prepared a hot bath for Elinna, the act simple, really–even with the majority of his energy spent. It was a simple enough process and, if he was honest, seeing her face brighten when it was done was almost enough to make it worth the discomfort of feeling like a rakish cad. He conjured some light in the room to make it look more like a lodging and less like they were thieves sneaking around by candlelight.

She was practically buzzing with excitement to get in, so he leaned over and handed her the smaller of the two packs he’d put together.

“I put a change of clothes in here, I think it should fit, but let me know if it doesn’t,” he said.

“Oh! You…just have women’s clothes laying around?” she asked.

He gave her a withering look. “It sounds awful when you say it like that. No, not just lying around. It’s an old gift from…a friend. It’s one of the old cleric robes that followers of Mystra used to wear.”

“Really?” Elinna said, green eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “Any imbued magic is, unfortunately, long gone. But it should be a little nicer than the leathers and canvases you’ve been wearing. They don’t seem well suited for travel…”

A lie, of course. Aside from Elinna’s boots, her clothing was more than suitable enough for traveling. But the longer he’d thought about the scars on the delicate skin of her wrist and forearm, the more his stomach churned at the idea of her putting those garments back on.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but it did. It still did–even while she was dressed down to her tan dress and leather trousers; even as she barely looked like she belonged to the strange order that was putting them up for the night.

He was still trying to figure it out as she hurried behind the privacy curtain and started to undress.

He wouldn’t have known she was undressing–except the lighting he’d created in the room was just placed well enough that her shadow cast against the threadbare drape as she pulled her muslin dress up and over her head. The light caught the softness of her waist, the gentle, sloping curve of her breast before it peaked at her nipple.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her. He would just need to distract himself.

He told himself it wasn’t Elinna in particular that was pulling this silly desire out of him; that if could have been any member of the fairer sex that had this effect on him. Elinna just happened to be the convenient, ever present option.

He insisted that had to be the case as he heard the quiet slosh of Elinna stepping into the hot water and heaving out a comforted sigh. He took a book out of his pack to distract himself from imagining what she looked like flushed across her shoulders and her chest from the hot bath water. He glared down at his book about foraging in the wild as he tried not to wonder if the comforted sounds she made in the bath would be the same if she were touched in just the right places.

“So–shall we get to know each other better?” Elinna asked from her bath.

Gale nearly jumped out of his skin, teeth grinding.

“Elinna, don’t speak to me while you’re bathing,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Why not?” she asked him.

He heaved a sigh while bunting the heel of his hand against his forehead. Mystra grant him strength. “Elinna, I don’t want to be an ass, but are you so far removed from civilization that you can’t glean why it’s not appropriate for a bathing woman to be holding casual conversation with a man?”

There was a moment of silence, the sound of water being poured, the faint trickle of movement in the tub. “I mean–not that far removed, no,” she said. “I used to sing in the taverns back in Moonshae. Plenty a drunken man has told me what parts of me he wanted to see and well…they weren't my eyes, let me just say that.”

“So then why the play at naivety?” Gale asked, resisting the urge to turn toward her. “You clearly know why it could be a problem to talk to a man while you’re nude. The…intimacy of it.”

“I suppose I just…thought you were above such things,” she said. “I just thought that our unique circumstances lent themselves to bending the rules of propriety just a bit.”

Gale sighed. She was right–he should be able to act with a little more decorum than the drunks at the taverns. He should be able to extract a more distilled version of his maturity and be able to speak to a young woman without thinking so much about the shape of her body and what it would be like to feel it under his hands.

“Gale?” she asked. “Are you angry?”

“No,” he said, turning a page in the book he was reading without really seeing it. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve had such constant company. Most of the time it was just me and my tressym, Tara. She was stimulating company to be sure, but it’s been a while since I’ve had more human companionship. I admit I’m not used to it.”

“I’ve never really had it,” she said. “I guess that’s why I’m so keen to fill the silence. It’s hard not to be excited to have a friend.”

“A friend…” he said, repeating that word again. It was the second time she’d called him that since they’d met.

“Oh–” she said, her voice getting smaller. “I suppose that is a bit presumptive…I’ve done it a couple times already, too. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Gale said. “If I’m honest–I just feel a bit guilty because I’ve hardly been a good friend to you. It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned the title.”

“You’ve been a splendid friend–perhaps not at our first meeting, but every moment since,” she said. “You tried your best to keep me safe from the Nautiloid even though you barely knew me. And then you offered to accompany me to try and figure out what to do about these parasites…”

“To be fair, you’ve been a great help to me, as well,” he said. “You helped me out of that pocket realm and found this place; got us room and board for the night.”

“That’s what friends do,” Elinna said easily.

“Elinna,” he said. “Since we’re friends…can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Those scars on the inside of your wrist–”

There was an abrupt sound of something heavy plunking into the water, like she’d dropped her hands into the tub to hide the scars he’d mentioned.

“I don’t have to ask about them if you’d rather not talk about it,” he said. “I’m not trying to pry, or to bring up something painful…”

“No, it’s okay. I suppose it’s only fair that I be honest about it if we’re going to be traveling together,” she said. “Mm–what’s your question about them?”

“Did your caretakers at The Nest do that to you?” he asked.

“Tney did,” she said. “A long time ago, the ArchLibrarian at The Nest wasn’t very kind. When I was six and he was teaching me how to read, he used it as a method to deter me from failing.”

“Hells,” Gale said under his breath. “I can only imagine how well that worked…”

He heard her laugh a little and for some reason it hurt his heart. “Not terribly well,” she admitted. “But I needed to learn to read in order to be able to return the archives to their homes on the shelves. That was when I started sneaking literature into my room at night, so I could practice reading on my own.”

“Did the punishments stop after that?” Gale asked.

“Well–that particular ArchLibrarian died and a new one took over,” she said. “So the caning stopped, but other punishments took its place. Sometimes I’d be sent to bed without supper, or if I really made an error I’d be tasked with handling the rats and spiders in the cellars. It only took one bout of paralysis for me to do everything I could to avoid that particular punishment.”

“How did you make it out of there with all of the…earnest fervor you have? If I was in such a situation, I feel like I would have disappeared within myself.”

“You see my overcoat out there?” Elinna asked.

“Yes.”

“If you open the breast pocket there’s a little locket inside.”

Gale hesitated for a moment, feeling odd about rifling through her things, but he finally carefully looked through the folds of canvas and leather until he found the piece of jewelry.

It was a lovely, delicate little thing. It was about the size of a gold piece and fastened to a velvet choker that was worn threadbare in some places. It had been handled a lot, almost like someone had rubbed their thumb against the plush fabric habitually. The pendant was a dark metal with almost a violet sheen to it. There was a thin sliver of a crescent moon on it with a couple sitting on it as if it were a hammock, cradling a child between them.

Elinna’s name was written in Drowic on the seam of the locket.

“It’s imbued with drow magic,” Gale said.

“Mhmn,” she responded. “Powerful stuff, too. I’ve never been able to find someone to open it. That locket is the last thing my mother gave me before leaving me on the steps of The Nest.”

“Why not just find a wizard to do it for you?” Gale asked.

“I tried to,” she said. “But the last one I spoke to told me it may have some sort of bond with my blood–that I’d have to be the one to open it.”

Gale examined the piece a little closer, feeling out the weave and the threads of magic, following their winding paths.

Whomever Elinna had spoken to had spoken true, the threads all coalesced on her. Any wizard worth his salt would know that trying to manipulate that magic might destroy the item all together.

“Do you think your mother was a wizard?” Gale asked.

“I don’t know,” Elinna said. “I think I’ve just always hoped that if I could get it open, I could find where I really belong.”

The orb in Gale’s chest reached out for the thrumming weave in Elinna’s locket. He rubbed his free hand over his chest where the bundle of magic growled for the item, as if a bit of petting could soothe the burning hunger there.

Not this one, he told the netherese shred of magic in his chest, just a bit longer and I’ll get you something we can use.

“So that’s why you came looking for a teacher,” he said. “And why you wouldn’t settle for someone who could teach you simple folk magic or healing magic.”

“Yes,” she said. “And why I was hesitant about your offer to introduce me to another teacher…but…well beggars, choosers.”

Gale heard her take in a deep breath and then a small splash as Elinna dipped beneath the surface of the water. While she soaked out of earshot, he carefully put the locket beneath layers of fabric, careful not to leave it out for the sun to get to it and hurt the magic sourced from the underdark.

He was having a hard time not getting distracted by this girl. This was always his plight; he was always far too empathetic to deal with stories like Elinna’s. He was a bleeding heart for people who were unlucky and downtrodden–people who were alone in life and had no one to encourage them.

Gale had the sudden wish to take her back to Waterdeep–to introduce her to his mother who somehow always had extra love to spare. It wouldn’t have been the first time his mother made up for a lack of love in one of his friends’ lives, but Elinna perhaps deserved it more than anyone else.

He heard Elinna resurface and heave out a sigh before starting to get out of the tub.

“Done already?” he asked.

“I promised I would go quick,” she said. “Besides, it feels strange to talk to you without looking at you.”

He focused down on his book as he listened to the faint shift and twinkle of the clothes he’d fetched for her. He heard the faint little grunt as she dressed, the sound of belts being unbuckled and buckled once more, and then she came around the privacy drape, newly clothed.

Her amber hair fell in damp ribbons down past her waist, her face was faintly flushed with the warmth from the bath. She looked comfortable and at ease in her new clothes, though he somewhat regretted the reminder of Mystra on the tapered ends of her skirt and the collar of the leather padding.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Oh, so much better,” she said with a soft breath. “The clothes are a bit tight but…I also don’t have many clothes that properly fit me. Does it look okay?”

She turned this way and that.

The truth was, she looked fetching in it. The greens and tans of the Scribe’s Guild livery may have done more for the verdant quality of her eyes, but the pale violets and ashen chainmail of the cleric’s robes made the color of her coppery hair all the more vibrant, and paired nicely with the almost mauve quality to her freckles.

He chose not to think of the ways the openings of the skirt cleared a path all the way up to her thigh, and thought even less on how well the lines of her violet trousers followed the full curve of said thigh.

“It fits you like a glove,” Gale finally said. “Nothing looks too tight from where I’m sitting.

She smiled at him and heaved a happy breath. “Thank you again for giving me something new to wear,” she said. “It feels good to be clean again. I was worried I’d be stuck in blood stained clothes.”

“Happy to help,” he said with a pressed smile. “When I have a bit more energy, I’ll get some more comfortable lounging clothes for you to wear so you don’t have to sleep in armor.”

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “At least, I can put up with it for now–probably better to be safe than sorry anyway.”

“You should never underestimate the importance of a good night’s rest,” Gale said.

“Speaking of which, you should probably get to bed, don’t you think?” she suggested.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I meant you.”

“I’ve already gotten some sleep, I’ll remind you–you on the other hand, have not,” she said. “And besides, there’s only one bed.”

“I’ll sleep on a bedroll on the floor,” he said. “You take the bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said.

“First of all, yes you are, I can see it in your face. Second of all, this is likely the last full night of sleep we’ll get for a while, considering soon enough we will have to take turns keeping watch. So you take the bed.”

“I think I may be able to out-last you,” she said.

“Do not,” Gale said. “Make this a competition.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” she teased.

“Afraid neither of us will get the sleep we need because I’m terribly competitive. My mother won’t even look at a lanceboard anymore,” he said.

She laughed and the sound brushed up against some long forgotten impulse in the back of his mind–one he’d put away a long time ago.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’ll take the bed, but I still haven’t gotten much of a chance to get to know you better–you already have a full catalog of my childhood and all of the piteous stories that go along with it.”

She walked over to the bed and sat back down on it.

“Lie down and I promise to tell you all about my childhood–though I’m afraid it’s not nearly as tragic as yours….it may feel more like I’m bragging, actually,” Gale said.

“Hmm,” she said. “I think I can put up with a bit of bragging. I like listening to you talk.”

She laid herself down on the bed and turned onto her side to look at him, folding her arm under her head to use as a makeshift pillow. “Regale me,” she said. “No pun intended.”

He barked a soft laugh. “Careful with telling a man like me that you enjoy listening to me talk,” he said. “I’ll take far too much advantage of something like that.”

“I do, though,” she said. “After a life spent in a library, you can’t blame me for enjoying the simple pleasure of a good conversation.”

“Well–there will be no shortage of good conversation with me,” he said. “The only thing I’m better at than magic is talking–gratuitously.”

She chuckled and his heart fluttered a little as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. He got started talking before he let his mind drift to the last time a woman looked at him like that and what activities may have preceded or followed that look..

He told her about his youth–about how he was such a gifted young wizard that he’d caught the attention of Elminster, and then Mystra herself. He left out the part about taking Mystra as a lover. He skipped his inevitable folly and luckily, by the time he got to that part of his story, Elinna had already started gently dozing off between sounds of acknowledgement in regards to what he was saying.

With time, her quiet mhmn’s and uh-huh’s ceased and he was almost certain that she was crossing the threshold into a proper, restful sleep.

He swapped from talking about himself to reading out of the foraging book to fill the quiet room so that she didn’t automatically wake in the new silence that took the place of his prattling. When her breaths became slow and steady, though, he set the book aside and got his bedroll ready for the floor.

He’d be feeling the ache in his bones the next day, of course, but it was only what could be considered right for their sleeping arrangements. An older man shouldn’t share a bed with a young woman–least of all one he’d spent the better part of a day trying not to have improper thoughts about.

He dropped his concentration on his light evocations and sent a little gust of air to blow out the candle that more resembled a pool of melted tallow. His bedroll was close enough to the bed that he could hear Elinna’s rhythmic inhalations and exhalations. He looked outside as the moon hovered. Far away, he could hear the hush of waves crashing on the shore and for a moment he almost felt like he was back at home.

He closed his eyes and let himself imagine that he was laid in bed with Tara curled up next to him and the promise of a warm cup of tea in the very near future.

He couldn’t decide, however, if he was quite as homesick as he should be.

As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but admit to himself that it was nice to have the warm presence of another person near him. He couldn’t help but admit that he had missed the closeness of another body–the camaraderie of a shared experience, however terrible this one had turned out to be.

Maybe he could try taking on an apprentice again afterall.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #authors #my writing #vtf #violet thread of fate #gale x tav #fic recs #gale x tav fic #gale/tav #gale dekarios #gale fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav

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baldursgrave69 · 4 months

Text

Now We’re Even

Rating: NSFW - MATURE, MDNI

Pairing: Astarion x fem!durge (named)

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: MDNI, afab!durge, feelings, oral sex, public oral

While writing this I was listening to: Mine by Sleep Token

Find me on Ao3 here

Happy Valentine’s Day :’)

Also I’m sorry Gale

Agnes stood on the rooftop of the Elfsong Tavern, her eyes closed as she breathed in the cool evening air.

Something about watching the city as it slept felt familiar, it was the closest she got to feeling at home in Baldur’s Gate. Her long, black hair was down from her usual tight braid, it cascaded down her back and nearly reached past her backside. The rest of her party was taking a well deserved break in the tavern. She had slipped away, hopefully unnoticed, to spend some time beneath the stars.

While she didn’t really miss slumming it in the Wilds, Agnes did miss their old camps. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, but nothing beat camping in the open, the crackling of the fire, the sounds of nature at night. Agnes let out a loud sigh, opening her eyes to look over the city.

“How did I know you’d be up here?” Astarion said from behind her, she hadn’t noticed him make his way up to the roof.

Agnes turned to him, a smile crossing her face. He came up to her, pressing a kiss to her lips as he wrapped his arms around her middle from behind. Agnes relaxed into his embrace, turning back to face the city.

“Something about being up here feels so familiar. I must have done this a lot. Before,” she said as he nuzzled his face into her neck.

“I like watching over the city, too,” he said. “Any time I had a free moment I would just stand in the moonlight and watch the city sleep,” he continued with a loud sigh.

“I wonder if we were ever looking at the city at the same time,” Agnes thought aloud.

Now that she knew who she was before, she wondered if they had ever crossed paths. Both she and Astarion stalked the city at night, looking for victims.

“Do you think we were ever in the same place?” Agnes asked, turning to face him.

Astarion’s expression dropped, his eyes darting to the ground. Agnes took a step back, studying his expression. He knew something.

“Astarion… what is it?” She asked cautiously as the vampire shifted under her gaze.

“Well,” he started, taking a step back. “Do you remember how, at the beginning, I could have sworn I knew you from somewhere?” He said, looking back up at her.

Agnes swallowed uncomfortably, she didn’t like where this was going.

“Oh, gods. Astarion what did you remember?” She said, watching him.

“There was a night at a tavern where I had been looking for victims for Cazador. I’d been watching this woman for an hour or so, trying to develop a strategy to lure her in,” Astarion stepped towards Agnes, extending his hand to hers.

She wavered for a moment before placing her hand in his.

“When I was ready, I walked over and sat by…” he trailed off, squeezing her hand.

“Oh no,” Agnes whispered, feeling sick to her stomach.

“I now know it was you. None of my usual flattery or flirtations worked on you, you were instantly combative,” he said with a chuckle.

Agnes looked at him with sad eyes, any interaction she had with him before the tadpole was surely not a good one.

“Did I hurt you” she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

“No, my dear. Though you did threaten to kill me,” he said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Agnes sighed, a half hearted chuckle escaping her lips.

“You held your dagger to my throat and told me if I moved you’d let me live,”

“That sounds right, honestly,” Agnes said.

“I refused to move. The way I saw it, you were giving me an out from centuries of torture,” he said, lacing his fingers with hers.

“Oh, Astarion,” Agnes said with a quiet gasp, leaning her forehead to his.

“You considered it, but then you pushed me out of the way. I don’t know what made you decide to spare me,” he said, pulling her closer

“I guess we’re even, then,” Agnes said, a grin on her face.

Astarion cocked his head to the side, unsure what she was talking about.

“I may not remember the first time we technically met, but I do remember the second time. And I remember you pulling me to the dirt and holding a dagger to my throat,” she said, her arms now wrapped around his neck.

“Hmm, while that is true, let’s not forget the night you spent tied up trying to slit my throat. Technically, you’ve threatened to kill me more times than I have you,” Astarion replied, his hands traveling down to her waist.

“How might we even it out, then?” Agnes asked, moving her face closer to his so their noses were touching.

“I could go for a little death. Figuratively speaking, of course, darling,” Astarion purred against her lips, pressing her body into his.

Agnes placed her hands on Astarion’s waist, spinning him around and pressing him against the railing of the balcony.

“That can be arranged,” she whispered, in his ear, her hand trailing down his waist to cup his half-hard cock.

Astarion moaned quietly as Agnes kissed his neck, palming his erection through his pants. His hands gripped the railing behind him as he let his head fall back. Agnes unlaced his trousers, wrenching them down to allow his length to spring free. She smiled, immediately sinking to her knees in from of him.

She looked up at Astarion, pumping his cock a few times with her hand before licking a stripe up the underside with a flat tongue. Astarion let out a groan as she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his head. Agnes languidly bobbed her head on his cock, a hand trailing up under his shirt and rest on the taught muscles of his stomach. Astarion pulled the bottom of his shirt up, watching as Agnes swallowed around his length.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” growled, pushing his cock to the back of her throat. Agnes braced herself against his thighs, taking him as deep as she could.

“Shit, someone’s coming up,” Astarion hissed, hearing the latch to the rooftops entrance rattle.

Agnes quickly jumped up, turning her back to Astarion with his cock still in her hand

“Gods that door is heavy,” Gale grumbled, making his way up to the rooftop.

Astarion’s eyes widened as Agnes began pumping his length in her hand, slowly and languidly as Gale made his way towards them.

“Hi, Gale,” Agnes said with a smile as Astarion braced himself against the railing, trying to keep himself composed.

“Is everything alright? I noticed you two were missing from the festivities,” the wizard said, blissfully unaware of what he had just stumbled upon.

“Yes, of course. Everything’s fine, right Astarion?” Agnes said with a smirk, swiping her thumb over the head of his cock.

“Hah, yes we’re fine,” Astarion breathed, his knuckles white against the railing behind him.

“Very well then,” Gale said, narrowing his gaze at Astarion who was trying to stifle a moan.

“Goodbye, Gale,” Astarion said through gritted teeth, eyes widening at the wizard.

Gale looked at him in confusion for a moment before realization hit him.

“Aah, well I, uh, should be going then,” Gale said, quickly averting his gaze and scrambling down the hatch off of the rooftop.

Astarion wrapped a hand around Agnes’ middle, pulling her flush against him.

“Downstairs, now,” he growled against her neck.

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lucindamorningstar · 5 months

Text

I have a bit of a headcanon in BG3 that I kinda wanna write out like a mini fan-fic. It has to do with my DurgeTav and Astarion (I also have the poly mod on btw): ❗️❗️❗️TW// SI/SH❗️❗️❗️:

Gale chuckles, peering over the book in his hands at Astarion; who is nearly skipping to his tent with delight. Blood is smeared across the vampire’s lips and a smug look plastered to his face.

“Well, well, glad to see you in such high spirits. Been a while since we’ve seen you smile. Many of us had thought you’d forgotten how”, there was a small barb in his comment. Nothing too serious, just making light fun of Astarion’s blatant sour attitude in the last few weeks.

Astarion only rolled his eyes and flicked his hand in Gale’s direction. “If only you were nearly as funny as you think you are, I might have more to smile about”

Gale took it in stride. He hadn’t been in earnest trying to be mean. But he decided to further poke fun at his lover’s other bedmate like one would stoke a fire when bored.

“In all seriousness, you should probably lay off draining Dante dry EVERY night. Need them at full strength for the many battles that lie ahead.” Gale snapped his book shut and tutted like an old schoolmarm.

Astarion narrowed his eyes and snickered, “Why if i didnt know better, id say there was some subtle jealousy layered in that little “reprimand””

Gale blinked in rapid succession in an overly dramatic display.

“Jealousy?” The wizard was incredulous at the claim.

“Why wouldn’t you? When she shares my bed more often than yours”, the pale elf pretended to be bored of the conversation, making a show of examining the sharp claws at the tips of his fingers

Gale guffawed, “At least when she’s in MY bed- I always know it’s for the pleasure of my touch”. His eyes shifting subtly to one of the cots by the bonfire, to see the subject of the conversation grumbling and tossing around in their sleep.

“EXCUSE ME?” Astarion hissed in stunned displeasure. “Next time I’ll make sure we are close enough by your tent so you can HEAR how ridiculous you sound right now”

“I don’t think it would matter how close you got because I see more BLOODLETTING than I do FUCKING from the two of you. And one might wonder why it is you haven’t noticed. Or it could be assumed you don’t care” at this point Gale word’s starting to take on a more biting edge. He was getting legitimately angry at the violent prick’s assumed ignorance.

Astarion’s building anger gave way to confusion. Glancing himself towards Dante, and then back to Gale.

“You don’t know, do you?” Gale’s own rage began to quiet, replaced with what could almost be sympathy. Almost.

“Know what, exactly” if it was even possible, the blood letter’s face became shades paler.

“She’s letting you bleed her to near death on a regular basis not because she considers it a sexual experience like you do-I’ve seen that glossed over look in her eyes before. She is using you to self harm. She wants to die.” The last few words hung in the air with a heavy sense of dread and foreboding.

What would Astarion do now?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #Gale #headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 poly #polyamorous

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3xm-draconic · 5 months

Text

Liberate Me (Werebat cyris and Astarion story)

Summary: It’s time to rescue the spawn in the sewers, to face Gortash…and a certain Hag from Cyris’s past…

“So…Boo has a question for little vampire” Minsc asked Astarion, Astarion surprised to have found one of Baldur's Gate’s old heroes down here in the sewers nodded to him “sure, what does he want to know?”, Boo the hamster chittered, “he wants to know what you feed off of if you do not feed off humans?”

Astarion thought about it “well…I..I kind of still feed off humans…only bad people though, people who deserve to be bit” Astarion replied “the worst of the world…other than thai I feed off animals like deer, boar and sheep.”

The hamster chittered disapprovingly, “he still finds it wrong to feed off people but I can see where you are coming from little vampire, to hunt the wicked is that not what we all do?” Minsc said.

“Hold up…I think I found it…” Cyris told the party.

He, astarion, Jaheira and Minsc (plus boo, scratch and Astarion’s wolf Leggy) all crouched low and hid, Astarion and Jaheira transformed, Astarion into a bat and Jaheira into a hawk to scout ahead for traps.

“Minsc and Boo have a question for Cyris” Minsc quietly turned to the barbarian “how does he know we can save these spawn? What if they are feral?”, “we have to try Minsc, for them, to give them back a chance at a life that was stolen” Cyris hushly replied.

Minsc looked to Boo who chittered curiously to him “Boo is right, it is a risk…but Cris has a point to Boo, to give back something precious that was taken from you is worth such risks.”

Astarion and Jaheira returned, “4 guards are awake right now, 8 more are sleeping. There are 12 spawn inside, the poor dears are so starved they are nearly mad” Astarion worriedly said “if they don’t feed soon we may lose them”, “we need to kill the guards, most of them I’ve seen on wanted posters for heinous acts I dare not mention” Jaheira growld, “then we have a solution” Cyris said “the guards are all wanted dead…the spawn need food…”

Minsc gagged and Boo growled “but still”, “one of those men are wanted for the murder and defilement of an innocent young woman, Minsc…I think I am ok with him being eaten by vampires” Jaheira turned to him and assured the big warrior.

Minsc sighed “two wrongs do not make right…but perhaps the lesser of 2 evils can make up for the lack of good” he forlornly turned to Cyris “let us feed them.”

With the use of stealth, the “hold person” spell and cyris paralyzing the guards with a dagger to the spine, the guards were quite easily taken care of.

As Jaheira and Minsc scouted for more traps, Astarion and Cyris got to work with the spawn.

The spawn were like caged animals, barely even human…

They however seemed to recognize Astarion as being…the “new master” of sorts, him being the one who ate Cazador and usurped his power.

“Hush, hush it’s alright, we are taking you to a safe place, you won't have to ever worry about being hungry or torchered ever again” Astarion gently led one of them from their cage, they were partially naked and absolutely filthy…all skin and bone…trule looking like a starved corpse.

Their hollow eyes looked from him to the party to back to him “mm-m-master?” they groaned, gods…their weak voices pained him, “no, I am not your master, I am your…your leader, I am Astarion”.

“Feed, hungary…mast…leader Astarion” one of them pittifuly groaned, “Cyris, bring one of the guards here” Astarion turned to his werebat love, Cyris dragged over one of the unconscious, paralyzed guards.

Astarion cut the guard’s neck and wrists, sweet, hot, fresh blood poured forth like wine “Drink up, feed till you are full” Astarion said to the spawn. There was no hesitation, the spawn descended on the guard like a horde of locusts…ravenously drinking as much as their hungry bellies would allow.

Many of them weeped with joy.

When they took them to Bloodcrystal Vail Sebastian was waiting for the new arrivals with fresh clothes, baths and warm beds. It was going to take a LONG while for them to recover…but at least it was a start, “when we’re done with Gortash I’ll come and check up on them, gods I feel…”, “it’s ok, you saved them and they can start the process to recover their humanity again, Astarion” Sebastion placed a hand on his shoulder.

“But…they think of me as their Master…as their owner…” he sighed “I want to stop that immediately” he hissed, Sebastian smiled “it will, we will help them see that they are free and that you are our leader, like you said” he…hugged him “thanks…again…for killing the rat bastard, If anyone were to take his power and use it…I think you are a good choice”.

Astarion hugged Sebastian back “it’s the least I could do...and thanks”

“It’s time to go, everyone set?” Cyris turned to his team. Karlach, Gale, Astarion and Wyll “Minsc I thought you were coming?”, “Boo and I want to stay in this…“vampire town” see what it is like, it is certainly an interesting place already just by outward looks alone” he beamed “plus Boo and I wanted rest and drinks”, “fair enough, see you next time Minsc and you too Boo”, Boo chittered happily as he and Minsc waved the party farewell.

Cyris didn’t feel right…just waltzing into Gortash’s mansion, it wasn’t like Gortty to invite people over he didn’t intended to either fuck or fuck-over….Cyris didn’t know which one he’d be tonight, all he knew is that he needed to get the stone from him.

“Cyris old pal…mm~ I’ve missed you…cupcake~”, “Cupcake?” Cyris’s companions gawked, “pff…cupcake?” Astarion nearly belted out laughing, Cyris rolled his eyes “Gortty…” he grumbled.

Gortash frowned “aww what? Not going to use my little nickname?”, “...ok…sprinkles…what did you invite us here for?” Cyris grumbled as he could hear Astarion losing it behind him.

Gortash grinned “I want…an alliance”, “for what?”, “Orin is insane, you kill her, take her stone and you and I can rule the world together…cupcake~”, Cyris snorted as he saw fire rage in Astarion’s eyes “no thanks…Sprinkles, but he’s taken” Astarion hissed viciously at Gortash.

Gortash looked Cyris up and down “hmm…I don’t see a ring anywhere” he cood evilly.

Just then a chill entered the room…

“Cyris~” cood a slithering, sultry voice “been look’n everywhere for you dear”.

Cyris froze.

Whimbly Fablton, the gambling Hag of Waterdeep, had finally found him.

“Ok, ok baby you had your fun, you had your little run about faerun and you even scored yourself a new boytoy” she hummed “now come home”.

“OH FAT FUCKING CHANCE THAT’S HAPPENING!” Karlach hissed, “indeed, Iam not letting you take off with our friend” Gale muttered, “so this is the hag that has caused you all this pain? Darling~ please let me rip her face off~” Astarion lovingly looked to Cyris.

Cyris just stood frozen.

“Cyris you can do this, she won't control you”, “oh sunny that’s where you're wrong~” Whimbly smirked as she flicked her wrist.

Cyris immediately began to writhe in pain, screaming his head off, “the pain will kill you Cyris…and it will permanently kill you if you don’t kill them~” she cooed, Cyris pushed through the pain and swung at her “I..ahg!..d-don’t...CARE!” he roared as he transformed.

All hells broke loose…

“Cyris Stop!” Karlach screamed, “DON’T CARE,DON’T CARE, DON’T CARE!” he wailed “I AM NOT LETTING HER CONTROL ME!”

Cyris fought Whimbly till his last…

“DARLING~!” Astarion cried as he saw Cyris fall over…and didn’t get back up.

“Oh what a waist…there goes my best champion…say~” Whimbly looked over at Gortash’s crystal “what’s it you’ve got there pretty boy?”

Gortash’s arm was wrenched from its socket, he screamed as Whimbly eyed the crystal “now this…this is a pretty fine…” she murmured as she disappeared.

Astarion and Gale tried everything to revive Cyris…but nothing was working…

“REVIVIFY HIM GALE!”, “I’AM TRYING!”, “it’s the chains…” Karlach sobbed, tears sizzling down her cheeks “the chains bind him to the chain maker…”

Astation felt tears run down his face “no…”

“Withers can’t you do anything?” Astarion cried “Mephistopheles is a powerful devil…I am afraid I can not break the chains that bind your love’s soul” the lich sadly said.

Astarion left the manor, he whent to the Vail…he wanted to be alone…in the dark.

As he wandered the dark he came upon a temple to Entumbru, the god of bats.

It was abandoned, the poor place looked like it had seen better days, Astarion whent inside and saw all the bats.

Hundreds and hundreds of fluffy little creatures all huddled close to each other, little red and black eyes staring at him curiously in the dark, Astarion sat before the fallen statue of the bat god.

He weeped, he cried out and he mourned, Cyris was gone and there was no way of getting him back…

“Why do you cry at this broken shrine?...you do not worship me so why lament here?” a tiny voice spoke out.

“Hu?...who, who said that?” Astarion looked around, “I did” a tiny…pure black bat… flitted down from the ceiling, he was like a shadow made into a little fluffy form “what makes you mourn here?”.

“Are…are you Entumbrue?” Asatarion gawked, he imagined the god of bats to be…more scary, not a little fuzzy ball of cuteness. “Yes I am” he replied, “I…I mourn the loss of my lover…a werebat, one of your children” Astarion sighed “his soul can never be free of Mephistopheles and he can never return to me” he sobbed.

Entumbru hopped up onto his knee and looked into his ruby red eyes, they were like glowing coral jewels “perhaps there is a way for your love to return”, “how?” Astarion looked at the little fluffy god with worry.

“I need you to do 3 things for me, I need power restored to this chapple, worshipers and a sacrifice…a blood sacrifice. Only then can I have enough power restored to this avatar of mine to traverse the Hells and free your love”

“What kind of blood sacrifice are we talking about?” Astarion pondered, “human” Entumbru chittered, Astarion smiled “I know a shapeshifting bitch who might be a perfect sacrifice~” he hummed darkly.

“So…if the spawn worshiped the bat god and we sacrifice Orin…we can get Cyris back?” Karlach turned to Astarion as she, Shadowheart and Halsin approached the temple of Bhaal, “yes, all we need is her blood to fill the basin at the shrine, that plus the prayer of 100 new converts will give Entumbru enough power to save Cyris” Astarion replied.

He turned his attention to the dagger the night god had given him, a sleek dagger made from one of his own claws, bright ivory glistening like moonlight.

“Hold on Cy” he prayed.

#dnd character #baldur's gate 3 #werebat #astarion x oc #baldurs gate astarion #dnd #fanfic #main character death #orin the red #oringinal character #bg3 orin #dungeons and dragons #astarion #protective astarion #god of bats

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goldspxcld · 1 month

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❛ your conniving acts is never a sight i will grow old of . it’s very amusing to see blighted thine eyes riddled with tepid piss . ❜ venore admissions , tipping the barrel of his mug back . the iron clasps surrounding the girthy bosom glinting in the dim lantern light . it was at a certainty , the last surviving descendant of the yril'lys house left a great deal to be desired in terms of emphasis on lack of regality ; nigh nearly every sentence he spoke was also laced with a lick of inebriated profanity . for a drow raised in such a fine house , befit of battles & feasted loyalty , even raised by a chosen priestess of the lolth — he certainly hadn’t picked up any manners . ❛ i don’t even need to be sober to know you’ve somehow — someway — weaseled your arse into convincing that barrel-sharped fellow into giving you his most valuable family crest . depending on the bastard’s familial status , those are probably worth at least a night at some luxury inn . ❜ the gold at best , was worthwhile at least .

tawny lips press against the wetness of the iron surrounding the rim of the mug , a dull gloss evident , presumably from blend of cheap ale & his own spit . the menzoberranzanian’s contented gaze stilled on astarion as he downed the rest of the mug’s contents , finalizing with a swallow . his tongue wallowed in the aftertaste of the beverage , before poking out from his lips & folding to rest between the ridges of fang & gum . he does this for a few beats as the mug was once again placed annexed to a passing barmaid that uttered annoyed grievances to his horrendous demeanor . not that he cared to appear tasteful to some folk . he got shit even if he was trying to cozy up to some would - be companion . easy on the eyes , sure .

❛ i’m sure you would like that , wouldn’t you ? after all , your complaints thus far on this journey have been in wanting of a supple bed to rest , yes ? ❜

if there was a word he could describe this vampiric spawn : it would be … princess . astarion wasn’t a fellow that made his stomach recoil & convulse into vomit . as things normally did with the way death seemed to be fucking prancing on hells gate every damn centimeter in stride . the bloody spawn had an appetizing face , sultry voice even . white hair sprouting into a grandeur of loose curls , swept behind his pointed ear . red eyes that knew how to fucking rile someone up ; whether it was lust or hatred , that was left to the grantee . astarion’s looks made the enraptured need not explain . venore would be wise to assume it was among the latter of seduction . at least enough to warrant a damn crest in hand .

❛ zifreinn vith rasimorf … ❜ venore grovels out . his tongue rolling distinct hard lettered syllables as he spoke his mother - tongue . ❛ at least one of us doesn’t have to find somewhere to piss & sleep . a hay stack might do me sumn’ good actually … ❜ he scratches his head . he somewhat recalls a stable being located abreast of this dilapidating old tavern . dark , quiet … enough for him . asides from it smelling like horse shit . then again , his eyelids would be heavy enough for him to just collapse on without a care .

starter for @sanguisstella .

#sanguisstella #ASTARION .#VENORE | drow i am - but not an arsehole - IC #not me looking up the drow language dictionary JEJEHRBRBR

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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

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Theurgist

Chapter Three: A Night with the Magistrate

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Astarion chuckled, pulling another blade of grass from the ground and spinning it between his fingers. There was more to the woman in front of him. From what he had gathered, she had already given more than what she was willing to share. A warlock from Baldur’s Gate with a bag full of books and smirk full of secrets. He may have found decent company in the most unexpected of places.

Read here on Ao3.

“A temple?” Shadowheart glowered behind her. “Are you sure?”

Ferelith climbed up the debris, her hands rough and hot from touching the hot fleshy walls. She brushed off the soot and looked down at the rubble below. Flames were still rolling, sending ash and smoke through the sky, now growing darker. They would have to find somewhere to camp soon. Which shouldn’t be to difficult considering there was fresh water nearby. Now that they had crossed the remains of the crash, it would be easier to find spot.

“I’m entirely sure,” she finally answered between thoughts, waiting for them to follow her up the path. “The architecture resembled something of the sort. I can’t imagine what other structure would be placed in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like it’s a bakery.”

“The luck we would have if it was,” Astarion sighed.

“Then there must be something in there that could help. Perhaps even shelter.”

Ferelith was partial to the idea. If they made it in time. “Let’s focus on what we can, first. It doesn’t look like we’ll have much-”

Her words drifted off as she stopped on the trail. There was a slight buzzing sound, like energy activating at a source. She turned, watching something flicker across a marking on the stone wall.

“What is it?” Shadowheart inquired as she grew closer.

“That glyph,” Ferelith cocked her head to the side to study it. “Sounds like someone’s using it.”

With a loud crack, a large hole twisting with energy opened against the stone. A wayward glyph, one that could be used to travel quickly. She was familiar with such means for transportation. Shadowheart jumped back, her mace already in hand. Ferelith lifted an arm out, holding her back in case whatever came through was not hostile. Though with the luck they had that day, the likelihood of something else trying to kill her was very high. It was a bit of a relief to find a man walking through to the other side, stepping lightly into the brush next to the path. He took one disbelieving look at Ferelith and gave a warm smile.

“You’re alive,” he said as the light flashed again, dismissing the portal. “That’s unexpected.”

“I’m sorry?” Ferelith approached, inquisitive to the nature of their newly appeared friend.

“Last I saw you, you were lying in a crucible’s worth of blood, an intellect devour nibbling at your ear. Glad to see my eyes deceive me.”

Ferelith shuttered at the thought of one of those walking brains near her head, but was somewhat relaxed by his friendly tone.

“I’m Gale,” he nodded. “Well met.”

“Ferelith,” she continued to watch him carefully, observing his stance. “Well met.”

There was a time in her life she had been surrounded by magic users of excellent caliber. And she had grown used to a certain aura they emitted. It was a mix between arcane energy and arrogance, always aggravating her as it made her feel less superior. Wizards were always assuming their magic was the only the kind that mattered. She was never fond of them. But she always knew one when she saw one. And Gale held his confidence at a level where she could not mistake him as anything but. His robes were even loud.

“You were on the ship, I presume?” she shifted.

“The very same,” he replied. “A traumatizing experience, if an instructive one.”

“An interesting way to put it,” Ferelith couldn’t help but chuckle. “By trauma I’m assuming you mean the worm that was forced into my eye?”

“Yes,” he pointed at her. “The ocular penetration by an illithid tadpole which will-”

There it was. The all knowing ramblings of a man who liked to overshare his intelligence. Typical and common in nearly every wizard she had met. Though, she could think of a few who were humble enough. Mostly those in the abjuration school. They were never that much fun, though. No, Ferelith was more attentive to listen to the words of the necromancers and their theories of the dead. Now they had some interesting thoughts.

“You’re staring at me like a Rashemi at a blackboard,” he said when he realized she was hardly listening. “You’re no wizard, are you?”

“No,” she crossed her arms. “I’m a warlock.”

“There’s a gust of Weave about you, but it’s a mere breeze.” he squinted at her. “I need a tempest. It’ll have to wait. The primary need is a healer. I take it you recall the insertion of the parasite?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Quite vividly.”

“Are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation, it will turn us into mind flayers? A process known as ceremorphosis?”

“I am aware of that, yes,” she noted the intensity in his voice.

“It is to be avoided,” he said firmly, his eyes shifted from her to the other companions. “I assume you’re no accomplished healer, either? A powerful cleric maybe?”

“It seems you’re out of luck. We’re all in the same predicament as yourself.”

“Well, we’re all in a whole lot of trouble. We need help and I’m not sure where we’ll find any in this wilderness. How about we embark on the quest for a healer together?”

“We have been looking for others,” she glanced back to her other companions. “So I imagine that’s just the plan we had envisioned.”

“Most excellent!” he proclaimed, a bit more excited than she had anticipated. “Then without further ado, let’s be off. Besides, it looks like you keep some interesting company.”

His gaze fell back onto Shadowheart, biting the corner of her lip with a menacing glare.

“A woman with shadows for eyes- deep as the Darklake. A pleasure, madam.”

“Is it, indeed?” she tilted her head with a mocking tone. “We’ll see.”

Astarion snicked, remaining hidden behind the two women. Ferelith looked back to cast a look of disappointment, but it hardly phased him. She turned back to Gale, the wizard with the optimistic grin. He would be useful. And if anything other than, he would at least bring some positive musings to their solemn thoughts. Even if those musings were just the truth spoken in a happy manner.

“We were just headed up the hill to the ruins,” she motioned. “We were looking to see if perhaps there were supplies we could scavenge.”

“The ruins?” he looked in the direction she was pointing. “The old temple, yes.”

Ferelith took another look behind as if her eyes would tell the others that she had been right on her earlier assumption.

“I took a peak during my rounds. Looks like the place is covered with bandits.”

“Which means there’s supplies,” Shadowheart stepped closer.

Ferelith turned to her at her left shoulder. “We’ll have to prepare for a fight.”

“Prepare for a fight? You’re going to raid the bandit camp?” Gale looked at them with surprise.

“It’s them or us,” Shadowheart shrugged.

“We can try to ask nicely, I suppose,” Ferelith smirked. “But something tells me they won’t be willing to share.”

“This is going to interesting,” Astarion smirked, his enthusiasm rising in the two women whom he it seems he had not judged fairly.

“Let’s just assess the situation when we get there,” Gale raised his hands, clearly not anticipating a battle ready party so soon.

“He’s right,” Ferelith came to reason. “We should make camp, first. Somewhere close to the water? I’d like to wash this soot from my face.”

“We should head back, then,” Shadowheart agreed.

“Yes, I think I saw a nice bank to camp on from the cliff side. Shall we?”

With the sun setting and weary bodies, the party had agreed to settle on a flat surface near the river. There was enough sand to make the ground soft. And enough dead wood to create a fire. Gale was gracious enough to provide flames while everyone helped collect wood. There was little they had salvaged from the wreckage, but Ferelith and Shadowheart managed to pull together a few bedrolls from the fishermen they had looted earlier that day. They all pooled their findings together to create a meal of bread, cheese, and two apples. Ferelith was even pleased to find she had a few leaves left in her apron to make tea. If only she had a kettle. Feeling around her waste for her belt, she found the component bag which had remained empty. She placed the leaves inside, deciding there would be another time she would need it.

"So," a voice approaching from behind. "We're resting here? Turning in for the night?"

She stood up to face Astarion who seemed a bit uncomfortable if not distraught. He not only seemed worried, but he was shifting as he stood in front of her. As if he were too embarrassed to say what was honestly on his mind.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, trying to catch his veering glances.

“No, not at all,” he smiled, appearing grateful, but unconvincing.

“It’s nothing what you’re used to in Baldur’s Gate, I’m sure. But it’s a lovely spot.”

Ferelith looked about. It had been a long time since she camped in the wilderness. Truth be told, she would consider it one of the best campsites she had rested in. There may not have been beds or tents, but the sound of the river nearby was calming. There was a waterfall close. A ruin to other side. And a group of rocks and logs to provide seating and shelter.

"I suppose," he said politely, noticing her admiring looks around the scenery. "I'm not sure what I expected, really. This is all a little new."

She couldn't help but feel some satisfaction from his suffering. A noble forced to sleep on the ground. It was nice to have some sort of entertainment for the evening. Still, he appeared not to be completely broken about it. She imagined if he was truly upset about the matter, he would be demanding more bedrolls. And for that, she was somewhat impressed by his humility.

"You mentioned you were from the city as well,” he went on. “The night for us normally means bustling streets... bursting taverns..."

His eyes narrowed a bit, searching her face for a sudden realization. But... there was none. Ferelith had not recalled their run in whatsoever. The illithid must have cleared the memory of his face when he mind controlled her. It made having to explain himself nonexistent. And it made smoothing her over all the more obtainable.

"Curling up in the dirt and resting is... a little novel," he went on with a sigh.

"You're being terribly polite for not having much a choice," she crossed her arms.

Again, he saw the hint of tease in her nature. She was going to be fun. A challenge... but fun... He smiled.

"You expected me to be rude?" he questioned, impersonating someone who was hurt. "No, I won't complain. Not while everything remains unsettled."

"Agreed. Not that I want to hear your complaints. But we should get some rest so we can catch up on that unsettled business in the morning."

"I'm in no place to rest yet," he raised his brow. "Today has been... a lot. I need some time to think things through. To process this. You rest. I'll keep watch."

There was something ominous about the idea of resting in the midst of three complete strangers. Her perception had not failed her yet, but it seemed odd to put her life in the hands of someone who had tried to stab her just hours before.

“I’m afraid I won’t be needing much rest,” she stated. “Besides, I’m not so eager to completely trust any of you just yet.”

There was a pause as the two elves stared at one another, as if two predators had spotted each other from across an empty field. It created a tension that could crack the moment it was disturbed. Or could wither away with a simple word. Astarion plotted his next statement carefully, as he knew if he went about it the wrong way, she would never learn to trust him at all.

"You know,” he leaned forward, “if you wanted to spend time with me, you only have to say so."

The drop in his tone during the last few words caused Ferelith's expression to drop. In most occasions, she did very well to conceal her emotions. But the audacity of this man was enough to change that. The familiar flutter in her chest had returned. And she was not so willing to bury it this time. Her jaw had nearly dropped open, but the long pause gave her away.

"But suit yourself," Astarion said smugly. "I'm sure we'll drift off at some point."

"Yes, well," she closed her mouth and shook her head, looking down into her book. "I've got work to do... with this..."

"Good evening, then," he gave a slight nod before he sauntered back across the fire.

As she rummaged through notes she had written that day and the small black leather book she clung to tightly, she couldn't help but feel she was circling back to an unanswered question. There was still no word from her patron. She was lucky she could even still feel him. And as the night grew quieter, she could hear the feint whispers in the back of her head. They were only causing more distractions. As if the occasional on looking eyes were not enough. Looking up from her book, she glanced to Astarion, picking grass and throwing it to the fire. They really were the only ones awake. Then again, they were the only ones who did not need to sleep.

"Is there something you need?" he asked, catching her staring.

"No," she replied, looking back down to her book.

“You look like you need a break,” he suggested, crossing his legs.

Ferelith sat up, stretching her lower back as she pushed her chest out. “What is it they say? No rest for the wicked?”

Astarion chuckled, pulling another blade of grass from the ground and spinning it between his fingers. There was more to the woman in front of him. From what he had gathered, she had already given more than what she was willing to share. A warlock from Baldur’s Gate with a bag full of books and smirk full of secrets. He may have found decent company in the most unexpected of places.

“If that’s the case, you and I have a long night ahead of us.”

“Long nights never bothered me,” she placed her hands on her lap. “What about you? What were your long nights like back in Baldur’s Gate? Other than those bursting taverns.”

He felt a tightening in his chest at there may have been a hint of recognition. “There were nights spent outside of taverns.”

“I see,” she nodded at his quick dismissal. “Likely filled with entertainers and wine, then.”

“Not always,” he shrugged, picking the grass apart just as he did the one before. “Some nights were spent studying. Much like yourself.”

“A scholar,” she shook her head in jest.

“A magistrate,” he corrected. “It was all rather tedious.”

“Oh,” she brought a hand to her chest. “Excuse me, then. I must apologize. I didn’t realize I was in the company of someone so formal.”

Astarion sneered from across the fire, remembering that she had been in the upper district when they crossed paths. “You know,” he inhaled, holding his breath for a moment while he contemplated her remark. “Something tells me you’re not so humble, yourself.”

“I’m quite proud of my work,” she blinked. “And I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“You carry yourself with a strange sense of power,” he glared at her now, as if he were searching beyond what her face would show. “Something greater than pride. You wouldn’t happen to be familiar with the nobility of Baldur’s Gate, would you?”

Her heart sunk as her mind began to search her memories for his face. There were none. She was certain she had never met this man before. But his in-sinuous tone told her otherwise. If he was asking, it only meant he was unsure of himself. And if she gave him the answer he desired, it would mean she was admitting to something she was not certain she was guilty of. Whatever the case, she remained firm in her decision to remain as unapproachable as possible.

“I can’t say that I am,” she lied.

“That’s disappointing,” he threw the rest of what was left in his hand into the flames. “You seem like someone I would have acquainted myself with.”

A commendation cloaking the questions of an obvious interrogator. She knew the tactic and dismissed it, taking it only as a backhanded compliment. Turning her attention back to work to ignore his presence, she began to scratch more useless notes across the paper. Anything to keep her from talking to him further. Her heart began to pound against her chest. And again, she tried to recall the memories of Baldur’s Gate. Even as far back as her time in Neverwinter. But not a thought was found for a handsome white haired magistrate. She was sure she would have noticed.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly when she had been quiet for a few minutes. “These are strange times and I find myself in need of… a friend.”

Ferelith couldn’t help but feel he was looking in the wrong the direction. Still, she looked up with interest to find he had rose to his feet, towering over the flames and looking down at her.

“Those are not so easily acquired,” she retorted.

“Weeeell,” there was a shift in his brow, “if you ever warm up to the idea, I’ll be here. For now, I think I’ll take my leave to admire the night. I’m growing ever more anxious for the sun to rise.”

Ferelith said not a word as he strode off toward the ruin. She watched as he hesitated crossing the log, but found his footing to be rather graceful as he strut across it. He was being very careful. Not just about the river, but about how he was speaking to her. There were too many blank spaces that she could fill detailing what he could be hiding from her. That, of course, was also due to her the charade of what she was keeping to herself. And with that distracting her from any more work, she shut her book with the conclusion that she needed rest more than she needed answers. She was anxious now, as well.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x mc #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #ferelith writing tag #i know it's two in one night #but this one was a quick write

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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years

Text

Just a Taste (Updated)

Dafni x Astarion

Rating: M

Ao3

I’ve been reworking some of the first fics I wrote for these two now that I have a better idea of their relationship. I’ve updated them on Ao3 but there was some interest in me reposting them here as well!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

Astarion passed along the far edge of the camp. A groan escaped his chest as he slumped down against the base of a tree. His whole body ached right to the bone. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the throbbing pain behind his eyes to disappear. He knew he needed to feed as soon as possible. He had waited far too long to make up for his little indiscretion with the boar earlier. The whispers of vampire among his traveling companions had, at last, died down. Unfortunately for him, his caution had left him weak and vulnerable. He clutched his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. His body tensed in an instant. The soft forest breeze carried the irresistible scent of prey. His mouth watered and the familiar, white-hot sting of thirst clawed at his throat.

He could see them all tucked into their bedrolls, spread across the little clearing. Sleeping. Helpless. His gut twisted with guilt at the thought but he was desperate and so very tired. Hunting would require far more energy than he had left and the food that slept peacefully around him was far more likely to quench the caustic burn he felt inside.

He would have to be mindful in the selection of his quarry. Lae’zel was the first to be struck from the list. She had a bitter, bordering on metallic scent that he found less than appetizing. And more importantly, he was certain she would slay him without a second thought should things go awry. Shadowhart was out next. Though her bouquet was much more appealing, she had a suspicious nature and seemed likely to be a light sleeper. Wyll had always seemed an alluring prospect - Strong, fast, and righteous. Despite the appeal, he would also be a dangerous choice, being a monster hunter by trade. Gale would due, he supposed, but as the wizard tossed in his sleep the delicate shimmer of a magical barrier caught his eye. That left him with one, final option.

Dafni slept in a heap of pelts beneath the cover of an old oak tree a few paces away from the others. Wildflowers bloomed in the soil around her as if the earth was reacting to her very presence. His gluttonous gaze lingered on the pretty cleric. He watched her chest rise and fall slow and even. He’d never known her to indulge in sleep, preferring to take her rest by way of trance. She must have been truly exhausted. With a silent step forward, Astarion took in another deep breath. She was floral, like lilac and primrose with just a touch of citrus. His pupils dilated as every fiber of his being shouted at him - Desperate for just a taste. It was a risk to be sure, feeding on a woman of divine persuasion, but of the options available to him she seemed the most delectable and least deadly.

“How cliche,” He thought, “a creature of the night- Driven by sanguine desire to drink from the lovely maiden asleep in her bed of flowers.” He dipped to his knees and with a delicate hand brushed her hair from her neck. He steeled himself, preparing to strike. Leaning in close just as her eyes shot open. “...Shit”

It was the cool tickle of breath on the back of her neck and the feeling of a light hand on her waist that pulled her away from her dreams. When she first saw him standing over her, ruby-red eyes wide, white hair tousled and untamed, she had assumed something must have happened during his watch. However, the guilt and shame that twisted across his handsome face quickly did away with such assumptions.

“What are you doing!” She hissed.

“No, no- It’s not what it looks like I swear!” His words were rushed as if they could not leave his mouth fast enough.

Dafi sat up in her bedroll, her eyes fixed on Astarion’s pleading expression, his hands outstretched in surrender. He reminded her of a wild animal backed into a corner facing down what was to be their demise. His bravado was all but gone and in the place of the cocky rouge she had come to know was a frightened young man. His eyes fixed themselves on the holy symbol that hung from a silver chain around her neck. At that moment the pieces fell together: the boar, his unique appearance, his eagerness to keep watch at night. There, in the dim glow of the fire, she saw him for what he was...

Vampire.

“Were you trying to kill me?”

“No! I wasn’t going to hurt you!” He promised, “I just needed - well…”

“You needed blood.” Dafni tried to keep her tone firm and fearless but her words shook none the less.

“It’s not what you think!” He pleaded, “I’m not some monster. I feed on animals! Boars, deer, kobolds - whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

The last word was dripping in melancholy. His head hung low and his shoulders sagged. He had proven himself to be proud, even bordering on snobbish - never asking for help and turning his nose up when it was offered. His suffering must be great if he had been willing to admit his weakness and need.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered. Against her better judgment, she reached out to him, placing a hand on his pale cheek.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs. I thought I could keep it to myself but tonight I felt so awful…” Astarion slumped into his hands unable to meet her eyes, “And… I wanted you to trust me. No. I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

His logic was far more rational than her own. She was a cleric, sworn to the preservation of life. She should have set him alight with divine magic the moment she realized what he was. But, when she looked at Astarion it wasn’t a monster that looked back at her. She saw her friend. The man who called her Daffodil with testing endearment. Who always watched her back in a fight. Who’d come ever so close to kissing her not that long ago. Vampire, he might be but Astarion was no monster. Her heart ached to think of the fate he had been doomed to. He was an elf, never to return to Avandor. Was it not her very reason for existing to care for all of Corellon’s children? Why should Astarion, whom she had come to care for, be any different than the rest of their kin?

“I do.” She smiled, her thumb stroking his cheek, “I Trust you, Astarion. If you say it wasn’t your intention to harm me then that is the truth.”

How long has it been since he had felt a hand so gentle with such kind intention? She held his face so tenderly he thought he might melt. He had spurned her kindness on countless occasions. Thinking it had been a sign of weakness. Now, on the receiving end of her light and he felt a fool for having ever encouraged her to tamp down on her compassion. He leaned into her hand, savoring the warmth of her touch.

“Thank you.” He purred against her ear, “Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste. I swear.”

He could hear the steady thump of her heart pick up. The sight of blood pumping through her veins was near irresistible. Her cheeks went flush and the intoxicating smell of her blood threatened to send him into a frenzy. It was no small effort to keep his vampiric instincts in check. He couldn’t remember wanting the blood of any creature half as badly as he found himself wanting her. But, no matter how badly he craved her he refused to betray the trust she’d given him- To prove himself the beast he swore not to be.

“Fine” She spoke in a little voice, “But not a drop more than you need.”

“Of course.” He promised, “Not one drop more.” Delicately, he guided her back so her head came to rest in his lap. He brought one hand to rest on the swell of her full hip and while the other cradled the base of her skull. His fingertips traced the hollow of her neck with almost loving reverence. “I will try to be as gentle as I can manage. It might hurt a bit- a sharp, cold feeling but the pain should fade fairly quickly if memory serves.”

She nodded her understanding, glancing up doe-eyed through her thick lashes. With that, he leaned in pressing a kiss over her pulse before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. If her scent had been captivating her taste could only be described as transcendent, sweet, and perfect. Yet it was more than the flavor that had him completely delirious. It was the irresistible happiness that began to bloom in his chest as his heart fell in rhythm with her’s. She was a lush and colorful field, the feeling of the sun on his cheeks for the first time in 200 years - Spring incarnate and he was ravenous for more.

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

Cazador’s words rang loudly in his ears as the red ambrosian liquid gushed into his mouth. All those years luring food for his old master and he’d been forbidden anything but putrid rats. He’d assumed it was meant to demoralize his spawn. To remind them where they stood in the pecking order. Now he saw the truth of it. With every swallow, he felt better than he could ever recall feeling.

His grasp grew tighter on her hip drawing her into himself no longer satisfied with gentleness and charm. What had happened to the restraint he’d shown just the other day when he’d nearly stopped himself from kissing at the river? Hunger began to blend with desire. He wanted her, in both blood and body. A shaky gasp slipped from her lovely lips. She twisted in his lap, lancing her hand through his hair, tugging him closer. An invitation to drink deeper and indulge the amorous feelings her resplendent curves and needy sounds were insisting.

“Astarion, I’m starting to feel faint.” Her voice was shaky but it was enough.

“Of course.” He gasped. He removed himself with haste, realizing his hold on her body. Relief washed over her and Dafni allowed herself to crumple against him. Above her, Astarion was still struggling to catch his breath. “I was just swept up in the moment. But it worked. I feel good. Strong. Happy!”

He nuzzled at her neck, his nose running along the soft edge of her jaw. A small squeak passed her lips at the feeling of his tongue running over the aching wound. Prompting a satisfied purr from Astarion. He was warmer to the touch now and a faint rosy hue colored his cheeks. His arm once again wrapped across her middle, pulling her into him as if he’d done it hundreds of times before. Astarion was hardly the picture tender regard but his arms were strong and his slow heartbeat thrummed in time with her own.

“I’m glad” She yawned, “You deserve to feel good.”

He stroked absentmindedly through her hair as she began to nod off. Her sweet words overwhelmed him. Gods he wanted to kiss every inch of the strange, wonderful woman curled up in his lap, to taste him in other ways. He hadn’t expected the act of feeding to be so… intimate. He couldn’t be sure if it was always this way or if the elation he felt was a side effect of her being an eladrin. Either way, the temptation to hold her all night was undeniably present. A disheartening pang of thirst still lingered in his throat however and she was far too weak for him to take anymore. His other desires would simply have to wait.

“I hate to disturb you, darling, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

“You are not excused.” Dafni huffed, snuggling closer in protest.

He tried to suppress the laugh but it was no use. She stuck out her lower lip in his favorite pout as he untangled himself from her. She reached up for him, wrapping her hand tightly around his wrist as he turned to leave.

“Come now.” He teased, “You’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bent down placing a kiss on her forehead, “This is a gift you know. I won’t forget. Now, sleep, Daffodil. I’ll be back in the morning.”

#bg3 astarion #astarion #elf writes #sunshine & starlight #bg3 oc #dafni of gwynneth #repost #rewrite #eladrin elf #d&d oc

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