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tripleyeeet · 9 months

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BLEED YOU DRY (1)

SUMMARY: When you awake to find Astarion attempting to drink your blood, you find yourself making a interesting decision.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 3,273

WARNINGS: Bloodsucking, that's about it?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I'm aware I'm way ahead of schedule for this Haunted Hoedown thing but I'm going to be gone for a few days in the middle of it so I figured I'd get a headstart now to make sure I get every day done but also to build the hype? Maybe?

Basically this is going to be a little twelve part miniseries based on prompts from this writing challenge. I'll make a masterpost either tonight or tomorrow with all the ones I chose, plus some other stuff, so you guys know what's going on!

The prompt for this particular day was "I want to watch you bleed."

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The squirming tadpole behind your eye is what wakes you up. Its constant movement, wriggling from edge to edge quickly prompts you to groan and palm your eye, attempting to suppress the feeling as you blink through the darkness. It takes a moment to adjust —to feel that twitch of the creature die down— and when it does there’s a sigh of satisfaction that leaves your lips.

Despite how long it’s been, you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the fact that you have a parasite living inside your mind. Even after experiencing the insertion firsthand, you often forget it’s there, looming behind your retinas, awaiting use every time you run into another. Normally it’s so still, barely inching out of place; sitting there, incubating within your thoughts. Tonight though, something’s urging its presence. Keeping it awake as you close your eyes again, scrunching up your face once it moves a second time.

Angrily, you sit up and turn your head, suddenly catching Astarion’s gaze, noticing the open-mouthed grin he offers in response.

“Shit.”

You narrow your eyes, focusing on his teeth. How bared they are; ready to strike at a moment's notice despite the only food lying around being you. “Were you just about to bite me?” you ask and almost immediately he attempts to play it off as if it were nothing, scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you if that’s what you’re insinuating. I was only going for a nibble.”

You can feel your tadpole squirm. He’s telling the truth, albeit for reasons that are more selfish than he lets on. Despite seeming otherwise, he only wants to drink from you for strength —for energy. His desire to kill you is minuscule, lingering in the shadows of his mind for a potentially later day but surprisingly such notions don’t scare you. Astarion may be a bloodthirsty creature but for now, he’s an ally.

“And you didn’t think to just ask first?” You raise a brow at him, watching his expression twist into something bordering between confusion and interest.

“I’m sorry, just ask?” he parrots, exploring your features and how they remain calm despite the context.

He was expecting you to be angry. To throw some kind of fit and deny. It’s what any normal person would do, but considering the circumstances, offering up a little blood to build up the strength of someone on the same side is worth more than the annoyance that forms across your face.

“Yes, like a normal person,” you chastise, taking in the scowl he offers in response.

His brows furrow at the sound of your words, angling upwards to appear as sinister as possible, and you can’t help but snort. Something about his constant disapproval is almost humorous at this point.

“Normal? Darling, I’m a creature of the night. A blood sucking fiend. A—“

“Vampire, yes, we’re all well aware given the teeth.” You poke at your own canine, tapping the enamel with open lips just as he swallows hard and narrows his eyes.

“Yes, well, obviously considering such details I thought it inappropriate to ask. People don’t typically agree to such perilous sounding terms,” he says, voice light and airy. Casual, you might say, despite the context.

“So instead you were just going to go for it?” You raise your brow, a smirk playing across your lips as he rolls his eyes.

“Seemed like the best possible option… at the time.”

You offer him a quiet ah, nodding your head as the two of you remain still, watching each other. Trying to gauge how the other is feeling without the use of your tadpoles.

Based on what you know about Astarion you assume he’s too stubborn to ask. Now that he’s caught, regardless of whether or not he needs the blood, he’ll never find himself in a position to be desperate enough to say those simple little words. Being a man of persuasion, he’ll most likely just talk his way into it —make it seem like the whole thing was your idea in the first place before diving right in.

It’d be respectable if you weren’t the victim. If it were Wyll or Gale and you were to bear witness to his deceptions, you’d fully support it. Encourage it even if he were to ask your opinion.

Since it’s you though, you can’t help but feel a bit frustrated. Astarion and you have never been particularly friendly. Having only been around each other for a few weeks, all you’ve talked about is the Illithid and how you plan to get rid of it —what you’ll do after it’s gone. But even the latter conversations hardly spark specific details. Mostly they’re just brief mentions of wanting to run away. To become hidden after the war is over.

You assume someone’s looking for him based on the way he speaks and carries himself. When you’re on the move he hides within the pack, using you all as a shield while he looks around. Always on high alert, his ears twitch at any foreign sound, his eyes dart to meet the faces of anyone you may come across. At night, he’s always the one to keep watch and over time you’ve come to realize it isn’t just because he doesn’t sleep. It’s because he’s looking for someone.

Even now, as he stands above you, you can see his eyes looking past you to focus on the underbrush. The way they narrow with focus, pushing past your face. He can sense something that you can’t —feel the eyes of some foreign presence staring at the two of you.

You’re tempted to use the tadpole to find out what exactly it is but quickly refrain once you hear the shuffling of branches behind you followed by Astarion’s breath of relief.

“You alright?”

His eyes shut for a split second. His chest heaves a single breath and in that moment you’re struck with an odd sense of sympathy. The feeling of pity laces throughout your thoughts as you imagine Astarion’s life before all of this. You imagine it isn’t great. Considering he’s a vampire, there’s probably at least an inkling of trauma there after living, dying and coming back as something other than yourself. No sane person would be the same after that, especially when taking into account all the symptoms. Before his transition, he could do mundane things. Enjoy the pleasantries of life like the sun and sleeping and food.

Nowadays, all it seems he craves is blood and power. Flesh of whatever he can get his greedy little hands on. The upper hand in any possible argument. Both make what Astarion is on the surface, but looking at him now, wondering what else lies behind that thick, defensive coat of first impressions, you know there are other things. Nicer ones he refuses to showcase.

They’re the details of his life before everything. Traits reserved only for himself, and for some uncharacteristic reason, you’re tempted to find out what they are.

“If you need to…” Trailing off, you feel your stomach twist at the realization of what you’re about to offer. The consequences are high, maybe even too high, but perhaps the benefits could be deemed higher. At this point, you’re certain no one else will give him what he needs. They’re all too noble or guarded to allow Astarion, regardless of his current allegiance, to drink.

They don’t trust him. And even though you find yourself in the same boat, feeling the skepticism of your words start to echo in the back of your mind, you know it’s the most logical thing to do. Sure, it may not be the right one. By a long shot, it’s probably one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, but you know deep down that it’s necessary for your survival. To ensure that, when all this blows over and the potential of you going your separate ways occurs, Astarion doesn’t view you as an enemy.

“If you need to drink, you can.”

His eyes widen only a bit. Just enough for you to notice the slight shock that spreads across his features. “I can?”

There’s a reluctance you feel begin to bubble up but instead of acting on it you merely shut it down, nodding your head. “Yes, but only a little. Don’t want you bleeding me dry before this whole thing is all over.”

Somehow that makes him laugh. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”

You force yourself not to smirk as he lies through his teeth. Knowing him, he’d suck you dry if it weren’t for the fact that there’s safety in numbers. “Unfortunately for me this isn’t a dream.”

“Fair point,” he replies, taking a short step forward. After that he slowly begins to crouch towards the ground, watching you closely —focusing on the rise and fall of your chest as his face falls mere inches from yours. “For now though, I promise to do no such thing.”

“And you’re certain you’ll keep it?”

He hums, a grin pulling at his cheeks. “For now,” he muses. “In the future though…”

He’s so close you can feel his breath. Hot and heavy puffs pushed through a low, far too sultry tone of voice that has you pressing your lips together in a thin line.

Out of everyone, Astarion’s always been the most intriguing. The one you’ve had this constant back and forth with, debating whether or not to approach or run. Aside from the obvious vampirism, it’s quite obvious that he isn’t like the others. From what you’ve been able to piece together, he doesn’t have a cause. A God or some sort of leader he’s willing to lay down the law for. He’s not noble like Wyll or faithful like Shadowheart. He’s just Astarion. A bloodied wolf all by his lonesome, following the rest of the pack.

You’re sure he has desires like the rest of them. Wants and needs that’ll inevitably be gifted to him at the end of this —so long as you all survive. Like everyone else, he has a purpose in mind, but what that purpose is is unbeknownst to you thanks to the charm he offers in replacement of the truth. Because of this, he feels almost like a treasure chest. A trove of untold riches kneeling before you, tempting you to open.

“I’m sure the future will have us far enough away from each other where that doesn’t happen, so I won’t worry.”

Almost immediately, he can tell you’re fishing for information. The way his brow slightly upturns and the flirtatious grin across his face transitions into more of a smirk. It makes you internally curse, knowing that no matter how hard you try you’ll never beat him at his own game. His way with words is too precise. Too calculated, even for someone like you who grew up convincing people of your lies.

“You never know. Perhaps after this is all over I’ll follow you. Linger amongst the shadows until the time is right.”

You can’t tell if he’s kidding. His voice is too convincing to be completely certain, so you merely roll your eyes. “Yes, well, if you do decide to drink me to death, be sure to make it quick.”

He clicks his tongue, leaning slightly further in. “What would be the fun in that though?”

There’s an unfamiliar ache inside your chest. A rupture of pain that wreaks havoc against your ribcage, pounding. Now that he’s close to you, you can assume it’s always been there but because he’s so good at posing a distraction you weren’t fully aware of it until now.

“Fair point,” you repeat his words back to him, deeply inhaling just as the tadpole suddenly shifts in tandem with your chest. Ebbing and flowing across your inner eye in time with your shaky breath, you notice Astarion pick up on it, humming knowingly.

“You fear me, don’t you?”

Despite the answer being blatantly obvious, your lips remained sealed. Closed off, regardless of the truths the rest of your body spills.

“It’s quite alright, darling. It’s normal. Creatures of the night are hardly meant to be trifled with.”

He’s in your face now, a mere hair’s length away, once again baring his teeth. Against your lips, you can feel the movement of his words pushing through the air, coating you in further reluctance as the withheld breath inside you finally releases. As it hits his face, he blinks and pulls away. Ever so slightly giving you the space you need to recollect your thoughts and swallow back the fear.

He’s terrifying. Even you have to admit that. Unlike Lae’zel he’s more calculated in his intimidation, opting to pull you in —to make you feel comfortable— before he ultimately strikes. Because of this, his threats feel more authentic. Less like simple tactics used to get you to back off. They aren’t words of warning —they’re promises. Declarations of a moment he’s more than willing to make a reality if given the chance.

“Do you want my blood or not, Astarion?”

Your patience is thin. Your chest is in pain and while the tadpole inside unwittingly reaches out to his, driving you both closer as he instructs you to lie back down and get comfortable, all you can feel is temptation. Desire.

Upon resting your head, you feel the connection between you grow stronger. Inside, your head flashes with icy sensations that trickle down towards your neck. Small tremors of what’s to come as Astarion positions himself around you.

When he leans down, there’s a moment where you think of retracting. This is all too sudden, you think. A mistake made in hopes of gaining the upper hand. Just moments ago you were made unaware of the full potential of Astarion’s charms, but now that you’re lying beneath him, awaiting the moment he sinks his teeth into your flesh, you can feel the regret begin to build.

“It won’t last.”

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you look to see him staring over top of you. Both of his arms are planted on either side of your head, bending at the elbow so that he’s low and close. “I’m sorry?”

“The pain. It won’t last long, I promise.”

Strangely enough, he sounds sincere. Not that that means much when a good portion of the words that exit his lips are lies. Still though, instead of returning to that previous headspace you merely breathe and nod, waiting for the moment the tadpole’s connection vibrates with confirmation and Astarion begins to lean in.

It’s a slow process. Above you, his shoulders shift, pushing his arm to cup the back of your head and expose your neck. Against your skull, Astarion tightens his grip to steady the endless thoughts that race through your mind as you share a glance. It’s small but important. A moment of recognition that tonight is not the night you die at his hand, but merely a preview of what might come if your paths wrongfully cross.

At the last second, you give him a curt nod and feel him dip, running the tip of his tongue along your jugular before the presence of teeth poke holes through your flesh. At first, it's painful. The blood that’s sucked through your veins pulsates through the open wound in stinging waves as you feign a soft groan. Then Astarion’s grip around your head tightens at the sound, pushing you further into his mouth. Further into the euphoria he takes as the feeling transcends into something numbingly cold.

Your eyes flutter shut at his continued feed. The feeling in your hands begins to fade even as you somehow find them moving to Astarion’s back, one of them pressing against his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his locks. At that point, you can feel Astarion moan against you, desperation filling his every cell as his teeth shift further into your neck, prompting your eyes to shoot open.

He’s going to kill you at this rate. To drink you drier than an insect's husk, so, through half-conscious pushes, you tell him to stop. To let go and to keep his promise as you grip the roots of his hair and pull.

As it happens you see his eyes shift to yours. They’re blown out completely, the whites of his eyes stained red to match his ruby pupils. For a moment, they remain locked to your half-lidded ones, honing in on the way they start to flutter again before you see them tightly close. Then he finds himself ripping away and gasping for air. Coughing through the thick blood that coats his tongue as he stares down at your neck.

The wound is only slightly gaping. Two well-defined puncture wounds sit side by side, but at the moment you can’t feel them. Instead, there’s still only numbness. A space of nothing that lingers between your head and chest, making you shift to sit up and place your hand there, finding more blood.

“See? Over before you know it, right?” He laughs but all you do is glare.

“You almost killed me.”

“Ah, yes, but notice the key word being almost.”

If you weren’t so heavy-headed you’d punch him in the throat. Maybe strangle him if you could get the right angle. “Yes, fine, you’ve had your fun. Now, do you need anything else or am I fine to pass out now?”

You expect him to say something else. To make some quip about the safety measures of post-bloodsucking, but he doesn’t. Instead, he merely inches closer, staring at you as he reaches for your bloodied hand and pulls it close.

Once again, your tadpole wriggles against your will. Throughout your skull, it practically dances as Astarion glances down, taking two of your fingers into his mouth with careful precision. If anyone were to see they’d most likely faint at the mere lewdness of it. Frozen in time, your body refuses to move as he laps the blood off your skin, staring at you through hooded eyes that make you want to scream.

You’ve never been in this kind of position before. Sure, you’ve experienced many kinds of intimacy, both sexual and not, but somehow this feels different. Forbidden, in a sense. As if sharing this moment is not only wrong but also against some sort of ethical code.

At first, you wonder if it’s because blood isn’t necessarily something that’s given. Always taken. In battle, it’s ripped from your skin through the means of injury. Punctured or sliced out of you at the hands of a sword. No bond goes along with it. No mutual agreement that any life will remain once the deed is over.

But then you begin to think of Astarion. The elven vampire now infected with the Illithid. Like you, he’s been changed. Subtly shifted into something new. Overall, your transformation isn’t nearly as different as his. Before the infection, you could still enjoy the pleasantries of being human, but still, there’s this connection that draws you towards him. It makes its presence known within the tadpole. Throughout the movements that echo in your minds as Astarion cleans the last of the blood away, looking at you with soft eyes.

“I consider this a gift, you know,” he says, dropping your hand, and moving away to stand without so much as a thought.

You blink back your confusion, trying your best to focus on the genuine-looking smile that appears as he takes a few steps backwards, never breaking eye contact until he telepathically adds I won’t forget it then stalks away.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x reader #astarion x you #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fan fic #bg3 fan fic #haunted hoedown #writing challenge #summer writes

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lipstickghoulie · 5 months

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This was written for the people on an Astarion server and I’m just backing it up here so it’s easier to find.

You knew that something had been brewing the way that you could feel Astarion’s eyes on you, as heavy on your skin as a stone without even touching you, for the last couple of hours. Whenever your eyes would flick up to meet his, his expression would be stormy, brooding. Normally you’d seek him out and coax what’s wrong from him but everyone’s mood has been brittle and stretched thin from the first day in these shadow cursed lands, yours included. You don’t have the patience to cajol and soothe his thorns away, not tonight. You resolve to get some sleep and comfort Astarion first thing in the morning. It’s one of the few nights that he doesn’t steal you away to his tent on some weak pretense to get you to sleep at his side. Even with your mind troubled at leaving issues with Astarion undiscussed and unsettled, you doze off sooner than you would have expected.

You’re awoken some unknown time later to a nearly unbearable stretching in your pussy as it’s slammed into at an astonishingly fast rate. It only takes a moment to realize through your sleep-puzzled eyes that Astarion is looming over you on your bed roll, your sleep pants off and discarded near your head. Your legs are thrown carelessly over Astarion’s shoulders as he fucks you like he’s trying to kill you, like his cock is a dagger that he’s stabbing into you like he would anyone that crosses him. Every vein up his shaft is so prominent against your inner walls that it’s like you can feel them rubbing against you and adding extra friction. Thankfully, your body wants him even in slumber so you’re wet enough that your pleasure outweighs the discomfort, your arousal slick and loud with every re-entry of Astarion’s dick.

“Oh, look whose awake,” He snarls, taking your eyes opening as a cue to pound into you harder, his cock head spearing into your cunt in a way that makes you squeal his name and forget that you’re on your bedroll where anyone could leave their tent and see you being thoroughly fucked. “I figured that since you want to be a whore so badly, you wouldn’t mind being used like one, hmm?”

Ah. Even in your sleepy brain, it suddenly occurred to you why Astarion was so mad. Raphael. It did seem that every time the cambion popped up somewhere, he got a little more flirtatious, a little more admiring. While you didn’t return the attention, you didn’t rebuff him outright either. After all, you might end up dealing with him in the future and it’s good not to burn any bridges.

You scoff, struggling to maintain a snarky tone and even coherency with the punishing onslaught of Astarion’s hips snapping against you and barely managing it as you respond, “I thought you wanted us to deal with Raphael-“ Astarion’s long, cool fingers hook between your lips and over your tongue, interrupting you sternly and keeping you from arguing with him further.

“Shut up, don’t you dare to presume what I want, not when it comes to you,” He says irritably. There’s rage, jealousy and something undefinable darkening his eyes, something almost… insecure. Worried? It’s the gaze of a man who has had nothing for so long that everything he does own now doesn’t come away without claw and bite marks.

Even with his fingers gagging you, you want to comfort him, to tell him that you’re his. Though you don’t get the chance before Astarion takes them out of your mouth and moves them down to your engorged clit, rubbing furiously and using your own saliva against the ridge until you’re gasping and clawing at his shoulders. You clench and twitch around him as you cum and he follows closely behind, his forehead falling down against yours as a strangled whimper courses from him that is somehow louder than any noise you’ve made tonight.

You lay together like that for a few moments, even as you can feel his seed dripping from you and gathering on your bedroll underneath you in a way that you knew that you should clean immediately. But apparently Astarion isn’t done being territorial because he takes advantage of your mouth still being slightly open from his fingers and he leans over it, spit dribbling in a long, teasing string from his lips, the liquid gleaming in the moonlight that shone so brightly even in a place like this. You let him do this for reasons you can’t explain, even swallowing as you feel his saliva trail down your parched tongue as if you had asked him for it. Astarion’s crimson eyes watch eagerly as he sees your throat work and his cock starts to stiffen once more with heated interest, making you squeak as he shudders to life in the combined river of your climax. It would take a few times tonight for Astarion to feel like he had staked his claim on you well enough but you knew you’d humor him very enthusiastically any time that he decided he needed to assure himself of his possession of you.

#astarion fan fic #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion bg3 #Astarion short fic #my writing #Astarion smut drabble #my fanfiction

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tadpoleatemybrain · 2 months

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Guess who got back on AO3?

Click here for what will become nothing but Astarion AUs

I assure you more will be added

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murmoruno · 7 months

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"I don't trust you, but I can use you"

PAIRINGS: Astarion x fem!Tav

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had an idea/headcanon or whatever this is called for my own Tav and I want to try to write about it for a bit. Please note that this is my first time writing fanfic in English since It is not my native language. Bear with me if it sounds strange since I use a lot of Google Translate haha.

------------------------------ What if Tav is a true vampire?

------------------------------

In the shadowy realm of Faerûn, a most peculiar encounter unfolded. Tav, a true vampire, had embarked upon a path of redemption, now residing in solitude amidst the ancient woods. She is harboring no intentions of causing harm or extending a helping hand. All she sought was a peaceful existence in her eternal life.

Unfortunately, while revisiting her long-abandoned hometown of Baldur's Gate, she found herself ensnared by the sinister tendrils of the mindflayer's grasp.

On that day, destiny took a fateful turn as she crossed paths with Astarion. The vampire within her recognized his vampiric nature instantly. Despite this realization, she kept her silence, knowing the plight of being a spawn all too well, as she had once walked that same path. She empathized with his desire to conceal his secret, for she had harbored the same intentions.

Having spent centuries secluded in the woods, Tav had mastered the art of concealing her vampiric urges from others.

She marveled at her newfound abilities—to bask in the sun, to cleanse herself in the flowing waters, to enter another's abode unbidden. She realized she had never experienced such joy, and she believed Astarion would feel it too. Yet, she maintained her composure despite this revelation.

Astarion did question the crimson hue of her eyes, but she dismissed it as a family trait, shared by most of her kin.

On the night when Astarion attempted to sink his fangs into her and confessed his vampiric nature, Tav felt compelled to disclose her own past. She yearned for his trust as ardently as he yearned for hers.

A heavy silence hung between them, with Astarion's expression shifting from surprise to utter disgust. His facade, the mask he wore in front of all others, crumbled away. His anger and loathing were laid bare before her.

Desperately, she tried to convince him that she was not the vampire lord he believed her to be, or at least not the kind he dreaded. She pled for his trust, vowing never to harm him, never even to entertain the thought. She promised to shield him, just as she had always done. She uttered every word she could conjure in her quest to earn his trust, for as much as she knew she could continue this journey alone, she couldn't bear to lose him. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted him to remain safe. With her.

But regardless of her words and the earnestness with which she spoke, his perception of her remained unchanged. He uttered no words and silently departed from the camp, leaving her engulfed in the consuming embrace of guilt.

She believed he had left for good, and she blamed herself for it. A heavy weight of remorse twisted in her stomach, leaving her utterly helpless. This marked the first time she had experienced such profound anguish as if her cold, lifeless heart could rupture from her chest at any moment. The intensity of her emotions caught her off guard; she had never realized she could feel so deeply, or even feel at all. These overwhelming emotions frightened her, an unfamiliar sensation after so many years.

Throughout the night, she sat alone, gazing at the stars, yearning for a reality where whatever had just transpired had never come to pass.

The following morning, she spotted Astarion returning from the forest, his mask firmly in place, greeting others casually as if nothing had happened.

Their eyes met as he passed by her.

In a hushed tone, Astarion murmured, "Don't misunderstand, my dear. I don't trust you, not in the slightest. But I can certainly make use of you."

Shock flickered across Tav's face as she glanced back at him, noticing a sly grin. She had never fathomed he could muster such bravery to tell a true vampire that he could manipulate her.

Yet, the truth lay bare when she saw the tremor in his shoulders. In that moment, she realized that this spawn had already been consumed by fear, pushed to the brink of desperation, with nothing left to lose but his choice to trust her, to trust her assurances of non-harm and protection from whatever perils pursued him.

With a subtle nod, she replied, "If allowing you to use me earns your trust, then with honor, I shall allow it."

The words hung in the air, a punctuation to her inner musings. A glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes, a whisper of belief that perhaps this gesture could mend the divide between them. And in that moment, she dared to envision a future where trust might bloom anew.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion x tav #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fan fic #I wish I can make this longer or into a series but my brain just cannot go on haha #I'm not creative enough #If anyone want to continue this story feel free to do so!#I would love to write more #writing fanfic is so fun

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gothy-froggy · 8 months

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Astarion Headcanons

Fluff dating headcanons

This man deserves it. Astarion x Gn! Reader

(Bg3 Astarion spoilers?) + not proofread

As we know that Astarion is not used to this kind of treatment or care. For 200 years he used his body to lure people for his master. And was treated poorly on top of that. This is something he isn’t used to.

Small physical touch

A simple squeeze of the arm, putting a hand over his, Astarion craves for it.

They’re so simple, yet, holds so much meaning.

Such pure and innocent intentions behind them. Intimate, not sexually. Just so much emotion and such a strong connection from a simple touch.

He likes it.

Even a simple, quick or a lingering kiss is just so nice. Astarion has kissed, slept, and held many, but not like this. It’s quite exciting.

The feeling of his beloved’s finger softly running through his hair got a sigh of content out of Astarion. His eyes fluttered closed. The way the their fingers goes through his curls, barely scratching his scalp. It was peaceful.

This was peaceful.

“Star.” They whispered. Astarion opened his eyes. He sat up from laying on their lap, facing his partner. A shaky breath aired out as his eyes shut as they placed their hands on his cheeks, brushing along his jawline. No words were exchanged. None had to.

Their feelings, thoughts, and love for each other were so loud despite not one opened one’s mouth.

No words could describe how much they cared for another.

Astarion grew to return such acts with the intention and his feelings being present. It was difficult at first. It was…odd for him. It was either awkward in his mind, or the spiral to disgust and the feeling of tainted leaking through the cracks of his heart and mind, perhaps his soul at well.

But the reassurance from his lover always pulled him back.

Nicknames

The nickname given to him? Star. It was definitely a shock to him hearing that as his nickname. He can’t help but be a little flustered.

He loves it. Astarion would live for it. Astarion loved it even more once he figured out the reason why his lover calls him Star.

Of course, he calls his dear, love, treasure, other sweet pet names, but the one his love gave him doesn’t seem to be defeated.

The night was chilling as the stars twinkled, dancing in the moonlight. Astarion sat on a big rock with his lover. Their gaze focused on the balls of light in the dark sky. Astarion’s was locked onto them.

“Do tell, my dear. Why ‘Star’ as my nickname?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Their eyes meets his, a small, gentle smile appearing on their face.

“Your name has star in it. A-s-t-a-r-i-o-n. Stars twinkle, they’re beautiful , like you.” Astarion let out a huff. Perhaps a small scoff.

“Well, I am beautiful.” A charming smile plastered over his face. His lover laughed, placing a hand over his as they leaned forward.

“You’re my star.” They whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. Astarion paused, processing their words and the simple touches.

“You really are full of surprises.” Astarion whispered.

‘Their Star.’ He thought. It brought swirls of warmth inside his chest

Astarion’s love for the pet name Star becomes addictive. He gets slightly annoyed and disappointed when his partner doesn’t call him Star.

Hell, his treasure could even make him beg to be called Star if they wanted to.

It honestly irritates him how much he enjoys the silly little pet name. They really don’t hold much value or worth anything…or is that him and enslavement to Casador for centuries?

Nether the less, his love is here to show him what real is. What true love really is.

Perhaps the pet name is a spark of light for him.

His comfort (lover’s scent and warmth)

Nothing is more precious than holding someone with such passion. True passion.

Astarion struggled most on this. Surprising as it is, but the comfort involves holding someone. Being so close to their body with trust, letting your guard down,

But getting comfortable with having comfort is the most troublesome.

The fear of it being taken away becomes dread.

His nightmares are over, but they still plague his mind, making it hard to break through and open up. After a while, he did. He regrets not being able to break through before.

Whether it was a nightmare, or the utter crave of affection and his comfort, he always gets it. Astarion creeps into the tent, sliding an arm under his love’s, wrapped around their waist and pulling them close.

He presses his face into their neck, taking a slow and small sniff. Just smelling their scent, not just their blood, brought so much warmth and comfort. The warmth, the feeling of their body made all his stress move away. Astarion smiled to himself, pressing a lingering kiss on his lover’s shoulder, before whispering:

“Wherever you go, wherever you are..” Astarion paused, hesitant to continue as the fear and feeling of disgust creeps back in. Trying to pull him back to what he knows. Yet he fights it. The arm around their waist caused a small squeeze as he took a shaky breath before continuing.

“Is forever my home.” He whispered, forcing them out and choking over his words out.

“You are my true home.”

Maybe, just maybe, the fight for something new is worth it.

#fan fic writing #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons #bg3 x reader #fluff #astarion fluff

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pursuitseternal · 7 days

Text

“The Seventh Day:” filled with self indulgent A!A behavior (Astarbation) in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 1.9K of Astarion self-love

🎨 by @marimosalad full nsfw on X 🍆💦

Summary: Left behind, Astarion occupies his Ascended self first with some uncharacteristically (selfishly-motivated) selflessness, followed by some self-served reward in anticipation for your return home.

CW: Male masturbation (Astarbation?), panty sniffer/theif, he’s trying to be a helpful (selfishly), self-indulgent Astarion, Reflection Appreciation™️, he would be such a messy partner (in so many ways)

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

The Seventh Day…

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Oh… darling, I’m hurt. I thought we had something special…”

“You always say that, and you’re always hurt…” you fold your arms and tilt your chin up at him.

“Am not,” Astarion fires back, petulant like a child, until he realizes everyone is watching your exchange. He straightens his spine and picks the pretend lint off the cuff of his sleeve. “You go right along… you’re the leader after all, and if you think you can finish your business without the Vampire Ascendant in your ranks, then go, have fun…”

You level that glare at him that lets him know you see right past his facade to the bullshit underneath.

“No, really,” he purrs, “you go, I’ll just stay here while… you do all the hard work.” He gives you that arrogant smirk and tilt of his head, that makes you war inside whether you want to slap him silly or fuck him senseless. He can see it… in your thoughts, in the way your heart pounds slow and harder as his eyes look down your armored figure. “I’ll just stay here, tend the home fires and find little ways to comfort myself over your absence, darling.”

He flashes his fanged smirk at you, your nostrils flaring wide with irritation and lust. “Don’t make a mess,” you taunt. “Enjoy your alone time.” With that you spin on your heel and your chosen three follow.

Wyll in particular laughs loudest. “Don’t worry, once he finds a mirror, he’ll be entertained for hours, I’m sure.”

The group chortles as they shut the door to their rooms in the Elfsong, but not before you throw one more look over your shoulder at your lover. He’s just smirking, irritated and conflated despite his wounded pride, making a show for you in that one moment of unbuckling his armor to drop it at his feet.

You shake your head and smile, all the irritation you have melted into love as you blow him a kiss. Then you shut that door.

The instant the door is shut, Astarion grimaces and throws the rest of his armor to the ground in a huff. Petulant? Yes, but also hurt. He looks around the empty suite of rooms, collecting his armor, he decides to actually put it away properly for once back in his rooms. Your rooms. Besides, he has no interest in watching Scratch nap by the fireplace, or risk any of the other ‘strays’ who have joined along the way come up and bother him.

With a discontented sigh, Astarion slinks his way into your rooms alone. That open chest for his armor is so close inside the door, but he sets it down on the floor. See how she likes that… he smirks, imagining your usual comments made under your breath about his messiness as you insist on tidying up. You’ll have to step over it when you come back exhausted and bloodied.

A slight pang of guilt tweaks his gut, his eyes settle on it again, that pile of his armor… the stack of messy clothes—yours and his— discarded hurriedly last night before your fucked… A slight disgruntled smile crosses his face. Maybe… just this once…. He could entertain himself in a different way.

He starts putting the armor in the trunk piece by piece, and with each one he starts to think about how much you will smile as you see your rooms.

Another piece in the trunk… he can almost feel your blush color your cheeks at his thoughtfulness. Your gratitude will be palpable… and you will want to shower him with affection… willingness… Astarion sighs to think about how you will positively reek of sweat and blood and arousal when you see what he’s done for you, his darling.

He closes the lid of the storage chest with an eager groan, that ache in his groin blooming slightly just at the thought of what will come once you’re home. You’ll positively worship at his feet for taking such good care of you…

That ache burgeons into a full erection at the image he’s conjured in his mind. With one final grunt, he picks up the pile of discarded clothing from last night, setting it properly in the basket, one rumpled thing of fabric at a time in the corner to be laundered later. One hand adjusts his erection, the other holds the last piece of fabric from the floor. Your undergarments.

He pauses, catching your scent in the air just as he wraps his hand around himself…

… he’s just trying to fix that hardness… he tells himself. But he can’t help but give that cock in his grasp a little rub.

He hisses, trying to catch his breath, but his nose only fills with your scent stronger the longer he holds your small clothes in his grip.

“Fuck it,” he growls to himself, unceremoniously sitting himself on the edge of the bed, surrounded by a tidy room. Surely, he deserves his own reward. And your own laziness last night to dispose of your underwear properly has just gifted him with a great incentive. That soft fabric, inundated with your musk, makes his mouth water. He just… has to…

He presses it to his nose, his cock freed from the top of his leathers as he slowly starts to caress it. It feels so good in his hand: the perfect length, the flawless width, the impressive hardness he always gets that makes every vein rise to the surface like marble. The masterpiece of a body that he is, he smirks to himself.

Another deep whiff of that delicious scent, he looks to the side, that large mirror so perfectly placed across from the bed, his idea. His eyes flit between watching his own cock pulse in his fist, staring at the perfection is his own reflection, and closing his eyes to take another deep lung-full of your scent.

Intoxicating, the beat of his own warm hand matches that pulse of his heart, a pounding so insistent in those veins. So steady and growing more pronounced even as he still works himself into bliss. Astarion gives a contented sigh, his thumb catching over that sweet, weeping slit to wet his cock head with early cum.

Indulgent, the way the faded ghost of your musk compliments his own as it grows with every leaking stroke he makes over his own shaft. No wonder you two are so destined for greatness, so perfect together… your bodies made for one another on some primal level, right down to your scents.

A few breaths catch in his throat, the corner of his eye now fixed on that mirror. He pauses to pull his shirt up higher, his leathers down lower, wanting to see more of himself, a body that has ruined so many… Small wonder, he laughs a bit darkly, a bit proudly. The edges of his abdominals protrude, just right, that deep v of his muscles drawing the eye inexorably to that now-glistening cock. Even his balls, so smooth and round and tight now as he feels the pleasure building deep in his core.

For once, now, this body is his to savor, to command and pleasure.

“Ahh…” the thought of reclaiming himself makes his cock leap almost out of his own hand. “Delicious,” he groans to no one but himself. Leaning back, he lets his hips buck into his hand a bit, just for a little extra show… a little more stimulation as his mouth starts to hang slack. He lets that fabric treasure of your underwear slip off his face, just a bit, so he can admire the way his own fangs glint in the sunlight.

Now, those weapons behind his lips, those fangs, those are something just for him, a decadence no one gets to enjoy but you… and himself now of course. With a groan, he longs to sink them into flesh, to feel that first burst of blood as it breaks through skin to coat his hungry tongue. And in his carelessness, he finds it, nipping his own lip to taste his own ascendant blood.

Rich… full… powerful… familiar… he groans. Incredible that you get to drink from him, what a treat for his consort and for himself. The thought of you suckling from his own neck, the play of your breath on his skin as you feed, shivers run down the base of his spine, making his muscles clench and his cock buck harder into his hand.

You’ll be so touched when you see what he’s done for you, his little act of humility to gain your immense gratitude… fuck… it’ll be worth it. The back breaking labor he’s done to please you and make you smile and see his love for you still, even with all he’s become.

Your eyes will sparkle, your lips will arch in that come-hither smile you give him… you won’t be able to resist letting him take you right then and there, however he wants…

His eyes flash to the mirror, the paint of blush on his cheeks and tips of his ears…. It makes his fist grip tighter, his hand beat faster to chase that pressure that needs release. The breath catches in his lungs, his teeth gritting as he feels his balls tighten and cock thicken as he strokes faster and faster…

Another glance at his beloved reflection— that slow seep of pearly cum leaking from his cock… perfection, seduction incarnate, he smirks to himself as he arches and his head cranes backwards. Grunting, sighing, he licks his lips as that pressure in his balls bursts at last, a few more erratic bucks into his fist, as he forces his eyes open to watch.

He juts his hips out forward, almost off the edge of the bed, angled just right to watch his cum explode out gloriously. The reflection, the pulsing he feels, the warmth that drips on his hand…

Head hanging down, tongue licking his lips, he watches as his cock twitches a few more times, that release overwhelming him as he huffs with open mouth. Drips of his cum spatter here and there on the floorboards, the few offending signs of…

The door swings open, you stand panting in its frame, a bit bloodied but none of it your own. Your sharp eyes take in the scene… your love panting, cock in hand, rosy post-coital cheeks flaring a hot pink as you catch him in his indulgence. And all you can do is smirk, knowing you have the upper hand on him, shaking your head as he starts to sputter excuses.

Then you notice what he holds in his other hand, your discarded undergarments from last night. Now your cheeks flame so hot, you’re pretty sure even your undead pale skin is blushing. “What…” but you swallow the question. Why ask it… you know full well what he was doing with your intimates. “I’ll skip the question and just point out that I left you alone for an hour… and you’ve made…” you smirk wickedly as you cross to kneel before him, “… such a mess.”

“Actually, darling, you’ve failed to see that I cleane—”

But before he can get whiny and defensive, you silence him, wrapping your mouth around his still, weeping cock. You moan around his length, not giving it lots of force, just a lazy bob of your head, a slow lick of your tongue. A few swirls of your lips laps all the extra cum from his velvety skin. Then you pull off of him, grinning with all your own self-righteous taunting. “That’s… how you clean, my lord.”

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brabblesblog · 1 month

Text

Commissioned from @morebird, who as always takes my breath away.

A little bit of spot the difference with these two! Hint: it’s all in the eyes. Aka I couldn’t decide where I wanted them to look so 🤷‍♀️

Fic for these two idiots:

Whither is thy beloved gone?

Remember ye not the former things

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lilac--sugar · 7 months

Text

The Epitome of Spring

Summary: It was more of a joke than anything when Astarion suggested a bathhouse. Even more so when Karlach tacked on a nice meal and a large round of beer at a nearby tavern. Yet, after a long and rough few days it was all the gang wanted. (Late act 3. Spoilers in general but specifically: Spoilers for Astarion's Quest, Gale's Quest, and Wyll's Quest.) Pairing: Unascended Astarion/Tav!Reader (gn!Tav) (Tav race with a shorter lifespan in mind) I also wrote it with my Tav, Kieran, in mind (pictured above). If there are any mentions that contradict this being gender-neutral please point it out and I will gladly adjust it! 💜 Rating: E (18+ Minors Do Not Interact!) Content Warnings: (In order of appearance) Cussing Throughout, Near Death Experience Trauma, Heavy Angst (that gets solved rather quickly), Smut (starts halfway through 2.4k mark), Blood (Astarion feeding from Tav) (not a warning but it does end in fluff). (If I missed any please let me know!) Word Count: 4.8k Author's Note: Not betaed. I did my best to comb it over. If you see any mistakes please feel free to point it out! But do so kindly, please.💜 Also, there is some dialogue used that came from the game (iykyk). (Also this was posted last night but I just woke up and checked and it wasn't on the feeds I tagged it in. If the post does exsist please let me know and I'll fix it!)

The last few days had been incredibly harrowing. You’d thought that once you’d entered Baldur’s Gate things would have settled down some. Of course, there were loose ends that needed to be tied but the stakes kept getting higher. Almost impossibly high. Just about literally knocking on Death’s door. You can still hear the loud clanking, hand grasped tight to the metal rung of the ladder, body numb from adrenaline. All wrapped up in the fear that this was it, that you’d be snuffed out of existence, topped with the bow of worry about one man and what might become of him should you not make it.

“Darling?” Astarion’s hand waves in front of your face and you blink back to reality, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just,” you take in a deep breath, your lungs aching for air and you didn’t even realize, “zoned out.”

His brow knits together in concern, but you don’t bother to look up at him. Can’t stand it. Don’t want to think of that face he made, still just a few hours fresh in your memory.

It all seems rather silly now, being stood in the middle of Baldur’s Gate’s finest bathhouse all awash in melancholy. It was more of a joke than anything when Astarion suggested a bathhouse. Even more so when Karlach tacked on a nice meal and a large round of beer at a nearby tavern.

Yet here you were in a building the size of a palace. The House of Relaxation. Every last inch of it was gilded in luxury. Built with warm sandstone polished to perfection, flex of copper glittering throughout. Etched into the stone were runes of all kind. Upon closer inspection you’d realized they were invocations of relaxation and healing. There were pamphlets left on the counter explaining all of their services. From massages to solitary baths down to more extravagant options that included happier endings. Not one for too much pomp, you opt for something more humble, something that sounded a bit enchanting.

“Uh,” Astarion was there at your shoulder as you paid the attendant and gathered your bathing token, robe, and towel, “Which one did you go for?” he asks, trying to catch a glimpse of your token.

“Something basic,” you say, tucking it between the folds of the towel.

“I rather hoped we could do something together,” his voice is soft, cracking just slightly with something. Disappointment? Sadness? Your heart sinks but you don’t turn around, don’t know what to say really. Frozen in place, mouth suddenly dry.

You can see from the corner of your eye Gale eyeballing the two of you as he often does. With him and Astarion sharing a little corner at camp it made things too easy for him to eavesdrop, feigning like he was lost in thought.

“Oh, go on Fangs!” Karlach lands a rather impactful slap across Astarion’s back, “we all know you don’t do basic! Go ahead and get one of those fancy package deals!” She plops a pamphlet in his hands, “There ya go!” She points down to it, “The Goodberry trio! Facial, massage, and luxury honey bath! Sounds like your deal!”

“Uh, yes, I suppose it does,” he still sounds rather dejected, another pang to your heart.

“When we’re all done we’ll go to the tavern down the street, get something cheap and cheerful!” She ruffles at his hair, “You’ll see your sweet Tav there! And we can head to camp all refreshed and our bellies full!” She smiles wide at him, “Besides! Me and them got the same thing so I’ll keep an eye on them. No worries, Fangs!” As she says the last part she moves to you, tossing her arm over your shoulder.

“Right,” he turns to the counter with a deep sigh. You turn to dare a glance. He looks dejected just like you thought. You feel ill at the sight. Karlach hastily herds you away.

“Karlach,” you say in a hushed tone, “I don’t-“

“I know, doll,” She winks at you, pressing a finger to the side of her nose, “We all need our time alone. I don’t blame Astarion for wanting to be with you after what happened last night. But I also understand that you need your time to process it. I just wanted to help in some way,” she pulls away once the two of you enter the public showers, “If ya need someone, I’ll be in the,” She pulls her token out to read it, “Drunken beer bath falls!” She gives you a warm smile before disappearing into a section of the showers.

Public as the showers were, they were still individual stalls, marble walls and black silken curtains for privacy. You slide into one and turn the water on. The shower hisses to life, coming out shockingly cold. The noise, the feeling of the cold water against your skin- you gasp and press back against the cool marble wall.

A flash of The Iron Throne flitters behind your eyelids. You press a hand to your chest. You and your party had decided to split up. Wyll would get his father, Astarion would get Omeluum. You’d get some prisoners down another corridor and Karlach stayed in the main chamber to take down Sahuagin warriors as much as she could. In your stupidity you’d gone back to help a cell you’d mistakenly walked away from. Determined to help them it cost you so much time. You’d barely made it out. The hatch to the submersible was closing on you. Survivors shouting to go. Astarion, Wyll, and Karlach screaming to wait just a second longer.

That’s when you knocked on the hatch with all your might. Hand holding onto the rung with some strength you can’t even fathom now. Your body goes weak thinking about that moment.

Astarion was the one that pulled you up, looked as though he had been ready to dive back down in there after you. His wide eyes full of tears, the fear. The fear in those eyes.

You’d launched yourself up with your legs at the same time he pulled you. The two of you becoming a mess on the floor of the ship. Silence fell over everyone as Astarion held you against his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He’d shushed you, told you to let it out as you sobbed into him. You weren’t one to cry but that moment made you realize something about you and your relationship with him. An undeniable truth that couldn’t be ignored forever. Forever. The word hurts.

You seem to phase back into yourself. Pressed back against the wall, the water has gone scalding. How long had you let it run? How long had it been burning your feet? You’re quick to turn the temperature down, wincing as your feet burn. You press a hand to one of the healing runes and little to your surprise the burning goes away. Healed. Feet normal again.

With a sigh you carry on with your shower, using the milk and honey toiletries they’d provided.

You slip out of the showers, realizing they’d only given you one towel.

Knowing you were moments from getting wet again anyway, you slip on your silk robe. The smooth fabric clinging to your wet form. You shrug as you grab up your towel and head down to the ‘Nymph Forest’ room. There had been many themed rooms but that one sounded the most whimsical to you.

You turn the corner into the room, body instantly welcomed with the gentle caress of damped leaves. A small pathway into the room opens up into a clearing. Golden sunlight shines down from a lush canopy above, casts the room in shadows and sunbeams. You can’t help but notice dew drops on the leaves act like prisms, a dance of rainbows swirl around you as you walk through. The ground beneath your feet is a soft lush moss, smooth stepping stones placed here and there. Bakers fern brushes at your ankles, sprinkled through them are different wild flowers in an array of colors. Purple foxglove, lily of the valley, pink bleeding-hearts. There are magnolia trees framing the edge of the crystal clear water. The bed of the faux pond is smooth stone like the rest of the building but the copper dances and glitters as the water ripples above.

How this was one of the more basic options you really weren’t sure.

You place your towel to the side over a rather conveniently placed overgrown root, designed to look natural but definitely a bench. No one else is around. Perhaps not many people prefer an overgrown forest like yourself. With a satisfied sigh you dip a toe into the water. Perfect if not just the tiniest bit too warm.

You undo the tie of your robe, let it fall down your shoulders.

“Tav?” Astarion’s voice is soft, tapering off in a wavering sense of unsurety.

You nearly jump out of your skin, quick to pull your robe up, doing the tie once again. You glance over your shoulder but there’s no one to be found.

“I’m sorry. I feel like you wanted some time alone, and trust me I plan to give you that,” he says. You turn your eyes away, focusing on the way the sunlight glitters off the water, “I just want to make sure you’re alright. Ever since last night you’ve been distant. It was horrible, the whole situation, but I’m worried that you’re not so much,” there’s a pause, he’s swallowing a lump in his throat, “in need of alone time but more pushing m- us- away.”

The sound of water lapping at marble fills the air in the wake of conversation.

“I know I’m just being insecure and darling, please, take all the time that you need, but, know that I’m here and as long as you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere.”

You turn back again, look around the corner and can see him pressed back against the wall of the hallway, facing away from you.

“Astarion,” you can’t help how tenderly his name falls from your lips. You’re scared you’re giving false hope as he blinks, surprised. He turns himself to look at you, you’ve never seen him look more like a lost puppy.

“How did you know which room I’d be in?”

“Well,” he twirls a hand through the air, “I might have taken a peek at the attendant’s ledger when he turned away,” he shrugs trying to hide his sheepishness, “But, uh- I don’t want to intrude, darling, I just wanted to let you know.”

“I know. And I want you here. Please.”

He doesn’t hesitate to cross over to you. Adorned in his own silken robe, towel clutched in his hands. You gently take it from him, toss it onto the bench next to yours.

“We’ve always been honest with each other,” you start, “well, at least since you confessed to me back in the Shadow Cursed Lands anyway,” you follow up, causing him to purse his lips. It was something he still felt the faintest amount of guilt over.

You reach out and take his hands in your own.

“I think,” you take a deep breath, look up at the canopy of leaves, trying to gather yourself, “we should end this,” you say, finally looking back at him, knowing you owe him at least that.

“Oh shit,“ heartbreak and shock spread across his face and your heart cracks in half. Your words, his face, you feel like you’re going to be violently ill, “I- Did I do something wrong? Why? What’s changed?”

“I’m just scared of hurting you. I’m scared that one day I’ll die and leave you alone. I saw the look on your face when you pulled me up on the submersible. I can’t stand the thought…” Your eyes start to water. You close them in an attempt to stop from crying but it’s all feeble as the tears fall down your cheeks. With a thick swallow you nod your head, “It’s easier now when you don’t love me too much, while you aren’t so attached.”

You hear him let out a small laugh, open your eyes to find him with a sad smile, “Too late for that, my love. This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can’t let our lives be ruled by fear or else we never really live. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of our future. When I said I wanted you, I knew what I was getting into. And when I said I didn’t want to lose that, I meant it. Now, if you have an issue with committing to an immortal,” pain spreads over his face, “I understand that and I won’t hold you back from what you truly want.”

“I have no issue in the slightest,” you say, stepping closer to him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“Good, darling, besides, there’s plenty of things that can be done,” he rests his chin on your shoulder, melting into the embrace, “we can try to find me a cure and you can learn Timeless Body at some point. That’d put us on level playing fields. Or perhaps make you immortal somehow? If that’s something you want?”

“Anything,” you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, “anything. I don’t care. As long as I’m with you.”

The two of you rest in easy silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other. After a moment he hesitantly pulls back from you.

“Are you ok aside from that? I know how terrifying it is, standing on the brink, looking out and seeing nothing but the dark void of death,” He cups your face, kisses you softly over your eyes. His thumb swiping away the tears that rolled down your cheeks, “Are you going to be ok?”

“In time,” you say, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Doesn’t help my fear of krakens much,” you’re trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, there were hardly any there,” he grins at you.

“No, but it’s just another layer to it all. Didn’t care much for the sea because of it before and now, kraken, being swept into the sea and drowning,” you shrug, “I think I’ll just carry a general fear of it from now on.”

“Fair enough, reminder, no dates out on a boat. Though, yachts are so nice,” he sees you shake your head, smile on your face, “oh well, Siilen's faen*. There’s plenty of other things I can treat you to. Right now, though, my sweet, I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Deadly.”

“Well, then,” his grin grows.

“Astarion,” you pull away from him. He tilts his head, watching your form as you walk backwards from him, “If I’m going to try living again. I’d like to do so with everything life has to offer.”

“Are you sure? Are you in the right headspace?” he asks, following you like a moth to flame.

“Oh yes. If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded,” you say, being coy with his own words. You lean back against the tree, tilting your head to expose your neck.

“Darling,” he comes to you, presses his index finger under your jaw, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip, “let me see what I can do,” his fingertip traces down the expanse of your neck, circling down and over your collar bone, pushing your robe open just a bit.

You sigh softly, watching him through heavily lidded eyes. His fingers slide under the lapel of your robe, cool knuckles brushing over your chest, over sensitive skin that prickles under his touch.

He leans over you, his other arm resting next to your head against the tree. With his nose he nudges your cheek, causing you to tilt your head the other way.

You lean into him, go to kiss him but he pulls back slightly with a ‘tut’, shaking his head. With a soft, nearly frustrated, sigh you press your head back against the tree again.

Pleased, he leans back in, running his tongue over your bottom lip, then the top. Your lips part in anticipation for his but he remains a hairsbreadth away. His knuckles brush lower, leaving your chest and going lower, and lower. Your stomach flutters and a choked noise escapes you. He breathes it in, cool air flowing over your wet lips.

“Astarion,“ you say his name as a whispered prayer, sacred worship.

“Tav? Oh! I’-” your own name but not from Astarion’s lips. You don’t care, as you open your eyes, you only look to Astarion. You keep eye contact with him. His hand drops from you, eyebrows twitching in annoyance.

“Gale,” He pulls back just enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, “hold on, darling,” he whispers to you. His eyes fall on Gale, aiming a glare at him so finely honed from years of brooding it could level a small village, “My friend, my pal, my,” he grimaces just slightly, “buddy,” for what it was worth, Astarion, and you for that matter, did rather like Gale. It was just his persistency in the face of the two of you being an item that really got Astarion’s metaphorical blood, boiling.

“As you can see, sweet Tav here is rather occupied at the moment. With me. Their partner. Darling?” He turns to you and it takes you a second to pull your eyes from him, transfixed by him still.

“I’m sorry Gale,” you say, finally managing to look over at him, “I’ve tried to tell you so many times.”

“No, it’s me. I just, sorry, I just wanted someone to talk to. I’m seeing Mystra tomorrow-“ he sighs deeply, “I had hoped.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. Gale only waves you off, shaking his head, “Karlach is in the,” you pause trying to remember, “Drunken falls? She’s a great ear.”

“Right, I’ll go do that. Thank you,” awkwardly he slips out of the room.

You look back to Astarion who has a mix of adoration and contemplation on his face.

“What?” you ask softly.

“You’ve got a tender heart,” he says finally.

“Do not,” you protest, scoffing out a laugh.

“You do. I can feel it when we kiss,” his fingers move, come up to press under your jaw, right at your pulse, “I can feel it fluttering under my hand. Delicate like a little bird. You’re so sweet to everyone, even when they deserve to be told off.”

“He’s lonely, confused, hurt.”

“He’s bullheaded and taking advantage. He saw how you went off without me earlier,” he shakes his head, “an opportunist. I don’t blame him for trying but I do wish he’d stop. We’re together and everyone has recognized that but him.”

“I don’t want to think about Gale right now,” you say, taking hold of his arm, moving his hand up to cup your cheek, “kiss me, for Gods sakes, kiss me.”

He does. Softly at first, but you reach out, curl your fingers into his robe, pull him closer to you. Pleasure. One of the greatest highlights of life. Pleasure with the one you love, even more so. Hands move with expert precision, robes pushed off forms, bodies exposed.

The contrast of his cool body against your warm one causes you to hiss. He reaches under you, scoops you up under your ass and wraps your legs around him. You push back against the tree and cause the two of you to fall back into the open bath.

He gasps. You laugh. As if on cue the magnolia trees that line the bath release themselves of their flowers. Hundreds of pink and white petals falling all around you.

“You wild thing,” he says, coming up for air, “give a man a warning next time,” he scolds, and you grin across the water at him.

“Come here,” you say, taking perch on the smooth steps of the bath. Your body open for him, legs parted, arms resting back against the edge, “let me kiss you better.”

“Brat,” he mumbles. However, he can’t stay mad, not when there are petals adorning your hair and shoulders. His sweet, tender Tav. You look like the epitome of Spring. He knows you are with how you‘ve blossomed life back into the Winter of his own. He thinks Spring used to be his favorite, in a life long ago, knows it will be again.

“Takes one to know one,” you tease as he crosses over to you. He brushes petals off your shoulder and kisses you once more, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, asking permission. You tilt your head and grant it.

You press up against him, hips grinding. He moves a hand down, working it against you, his thumb swirling softly. You moan against his lips.

“Taste me,” you breathe out. Astarion nudges your head with his own, causes you to expose your neck for him once more. He presses his lips to the delicate expanse, “please,” you just about beg and he licks up the side of it, the cool air of his breath causes you to shiver under him. His thumb applies more pressure, wrist twisting just right, and shivers turn to writhing, “fuck!”

“That’s it, darling, I do love your little trembles of pleasure,” he coaxes. His other hand comes down, the pads of his finger pressing against your entrance.

“Fuck, yes, please,” you manage to say through a moan and he slips a finger in, eases in and out, rocking ever so slightly, down right teasing. You push back against his hand, your fingers going into his hair, you curl them, gently tug.

“No foreplay tonight?” he teases and you honestly adore it any other time but right now you need him. You need to feel this connection, to feel alive with him.

Gently, he eases his other finger in, rocks them in and out of you. His lips are at your neck and you tug again.

“Ask nicely, nibblet,” he murmurs, gliding his lips across the delicate skin there, dotting it with the slightest graze of his teeth.

“Please,” you whimper and he obliges, fangs sinking deep into your neck. Ice cold and yet the edge of pain mixed into your pleasure is delicious. You let out a cry, his name is a song from your lips. He curls his fingers up and hits that spot deep inside of you. His hands now working in unison. He goes to pull away from your neck, not wanting to be too greedy, “No, don’t stop. Oh Gods, fuck me, please,” you beg but he knows his limits with this. Just when he’s about to stop, the water around you charges up in a golden glow, and a rush runs through you. You’ve been restored and fresh blood comes pooling out of you, running down your neck, your chest, twisting through the water and white petals like smoke.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps and you press down against his hand again. He removes his fingers, realizing just how ok you are going to be. Limits be damned here. His free hand goes to your hip, his cock pushing lightly at your entrance. You meet him half way, surprising him a bit. He groans against your neck as he sinks deep inside you. Hotter than the bath and ten times more pleasurable. You are his favorite thing to sink into.

With free reign he drinks more deeply than he’s ever done before. The two of you rock your hips in unison, him hitting that spot inside you so perfectly. His other hand working you, never ceasing, thumb switching up in pressure here and there but still swirling perfectly over you.

You are brought to the precipice of darkness, warm numbness spreading over you before the water glows and restores you again. It’s on the third time that you feel the insurmountable heat pool up in the pit of your stomach. You’ve become a mess under him. Moaning and crying out his name. Damn the Gods his was the only name you need remember. The only name you needed to pray to. Your body trembles, the waves of hot pleasure building higher and higher until they crash down over you. You finish under him. You feel him pull back to look at you. You open your eyes, knowing he wants to see you, all of you, see your soul as you reach your release. He wants to see you blossom under him, finds you absolutely gorgeous as you do. It takes a minute later, before he tenses up over you, finding his own release in you. His head falls, forehead pressing to yours. Your breath mingles and you kiss softly, coming down off both your highs.

“Astarion,” your voice is almost weak as if all of this has made you lose it. He pulls back from you, softly licks your neck and down your chest. He doesn’t want to waste a drop of your precious life that you’ve given to fill his. He’s fuller than he’s ever been, the happiest too, he’s sure. It takes the two of you another moment before he slips away from you completely, the two of you wanting to keep that connection for as long as you could. Not willing to leave the other’s touch he turns around in your arms. His back to your front. You wrap your legs around his waist.

The water shimmers silver now and all traces of blood and whatever else have been cleaned from the water. The petals and flowers remain, drifting in the gentle current of the water around you.

“Do you think it’ll be a shock to you?” you ask after a moment.

“What?” he asks in turn, resting his head back over your shoulder.

“When you see your face again. You know, if we find a cure,” You rest your own head against his shoulder. The two of you becoming an amorphous blob, “And I know we’ve gotten you a statue from Stoney and Oskar painted you. But I suspect it’s not the same.”

“Ah,” he watches the sunbeams shimmer through the canopy of leaves above, “No, not quite. They’re great, don’t get me wrong. But they still feel a little separated. Not quite… me.”

“I’ve been thinking,” you say.

He hums in response.

“The courthouse.”

“What about it?”

“Well, they must have paintings of previous magistrates hanging up, no?”

“I-“ He turns his head, attempts to look at you, “I suppose.”

“You think maybe they have one of you? Would that feel less surreal or maybe more so?”

“I don’t know,” he looks off in thought now, certain that what you suggested might just be right.

“You could be in the library’s archives, too.”

“Gods, you really are something, aren’t you?” he sounds astounded and you duck your head into his shoulder, feel your cheeks burn at his praise.

“I wonder what color your eyes were,” you try to change the subject, can’t stand being complimented for long, even from him like you so adore.

“Perhaps a vibrant green. Something distinguished,” he turns his head, kissing the top of yours from your hiding spot.

“Nah, Astarion,” you lift your head, kissing the corner of his lips, “your parents probably named you for how you looked but also what they’d hoped you’d be. Hair like starlight, eyes strikingly blue, perhaps with flex of gold. All together they thought you’d be a beacon to bring hope and guide those who are lost.”

He huffs out a laugh, “A beacon of hope? Guiding those who are lost?”

He’s laughing in your arms, finding it absurd. Still, the thought causes trembles of happiness to spill out from him and you smile, pressing it against the crook of his neck.

“You could be. Maybe we’ll help the spawn once this is all over? You could be just that for them.”

He’s still giggling, wiping at his eyes as tears had started to fill in them, all happy you’re assured, “We could do that. Those pour souls need a leader. All of them are so tragic without one.”

“I take it back.”

“What? That I’m a beautiful beacon of hope?”

“I didn’t say beautiful.”

“Oh, it was heavily implied. We both know you meant to say it anyway.”

“Ok, yes, you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. No, the most divine thing to walk this planet.”

“Good, glad we agree,” He nestles back into you, content smile across his lips, “but really, what do you take back?”

“I think your eyes were brown. Deep and warm like rich dark honey in sunlight,” you press kisses over his shoulder and up his neck, just behind his ear.

“Mmm, that does sound alluring, tell me more.”

You press your lips to the shell of his ear, whisper, “How about, I love you? Is that good for more?”

“That’ll do,” he smiles.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he turns in your arms, kisses you softly once again. The two of you lost to one another. The rest of the gang long gone to the tavern before the two of you emerge.

You spend the night delighting in one another. Making the other laugh, giving a gentle touch, and kissing. So many kisses. You forget your fears of the future. For you know, without a doubt, he will be there and there will be love.

(* Elvish Translation: C'est la vie or That's life. I used a Common to Elvish translator so I'm not even sure it's accurate 😂 Hopefully it is though!) Last little note here! Gale is portrayed the way he is here because, personally, in my playthroughs he's been VERY persistent. I know he's just bugged and he's a darling really, but I just found it funny how often he tries to shoot his shot with my Tav.

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whatacaitastrophe · 1 month

Text

If You Were Mine

Summary: Four times Astarion realized he might be in love with Fallon, and the one time he was ready to do something about it, but Gale got there first.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female), Astarion x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Song Inspiration: "Can I Be Him" - James Arthur

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: Pining (so much pining), angst, mentions of past abuse, denial of feelings, realization of feelings, drinking, canon-compliant

“You can kill it can’t you? Like you did the others?” Astarion asked the elven female who stumbled upon him as she emerged from the destruction of the nautiloid crash. The crash that (somehow) Astarion, this elf, and the half-elf and human man who accompanied her, and god knows who else all managed to survive. Astarion had more questions than answers at this point, but he knew one thing: He’d seen this elf walking around the ship, so surely she had something to do with the tadpole that now resided in his brain. Though Astarion was fairly certain that the very same tadpole was the only reason he hadn’t burst into flames yet, so if this elf had something to do with it, maybe he should be thanking her instead of luring her into a trap.

The elf smirked at him, sizing him up, her violet eyes piercing Astarion down to his very soul. “Easily. Stand back.” Yes, if she knew how to kill them, then she must be familiar enough with his abductor’s to have had something to do with it. Astarion could not help himself– his eyes roamed over the elf’s body as she walked past him to assess the threat he’d completely fabricated.

She was beautiful— her tight leather armor clung to the curves of her body like a second skin, and if Astarion was being perfectly honest, he could not remember the last time he laid eyes on a backside that perfect. It was an observation that took him aback because, quite frankly, Astarion also couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared enough to truly notice.

Under Cazador’s control, Astarion just went through the motions. Step one: spout pretty words he didn’t mean to get them back to the palace. Step two: sleep with them so they’d lower their guard. Step three: hand them over to Cazador. Lather, rinse, repeat. Out here though, so far, it appeared as though Astarion was far enough away from Cazador to be free of his control. Perhaps his little stowaway was also the cause for that as well.

Astarion watched the woman carefully as she crept slowly around the corner, waiting for a mind-flayer to appear. She jumped slightly when the boar burst out of the bushes instead and that’s when Astarion struck. The blade of his dagger was against her neck and they were on the ground mere seconds later. “Ah, ah, ah, shhh. Don’t fight it, darling,” Astarion warned her before glancing over to her companions. “Stay back or I’ll slit her throat.”

The dark haired man glared at Astarion, and out of the corner of his eye, Astarion could have sworn he saw fire crackling on the man’s fingertips. A magic caster of some sort— likely a wizard based on his attire. “Do that, and I will incinerate you.”

So it was definitely fire, then, and the protective look in the wizard’s eyes meant he and the woman with Astarion’s blade against her neck were either already romantically involved, or this man wanted them to be. Whatever the case, Astarion just hoped it would keep the wizard from doing anything stupid.

This close to her face, the first thing Astarion noticed was the smattering of freckles across her cheeks— wild and uncoordinated, much like the navy streaks in her raven hair that were falling out of the ponytail atop her head. There was a scar across her nose and cheek, and for a split second, Astarion found himself wondering how she got it. She was even more beautiful up close. What a pity he was probably going to have to kill her.

“I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

The woman had the audacity to shake her head. Astarion’s nostril’s flared. “Don’t lie to me— ah!”

Suddenly their minds were connected, and he was seeing flashes of a life that was not his: a man with the same violet eyes as this woman, bleeding out in her arms. A piece of parchment with a singular name and a pouch jingling with coin sliding across a bar top towards her. A man leering at her, offering to buy her a drink, and agreeing to go upstairs with her. Then, his dead body being dragged toward a balcony before getting tossed into the Chionthar.

Whoever this woman was, she was a paid assassin, and if she hadn’t head-butted him while he was distracted, Astarion probably would have noticed the arousal that accompanied the fear he felt knowing that the only reason he was still alive was because he’d gotten the upper hand, and tackled her to the ground first.

Her name was Fallon, Astarion learned, and the moment she confirmed that she too had been ready to kill him before their tadpoles took them on a trip down memory lane, Astarion decided he would follow her anywhere.

—

Finding Gandrel in the swamp was unexpected. Fallon led them there because she wanted to investigate the hag they’d run into, and the woman she may or may not have been holding hostage, but a wrong turn led their group up a hill and right to the Gur hunter who admitted he was hunting a vampire spawn.

There was no way this man was looking for anybody other than Astarion, and there was no way Gandrel hadn’t been sent by Cazador to find him. Astarion did his best to quell the panic rising within himself— his new companions did not yet know he was a vampire. One word from Gandrel, one mention of Astarion’s name, and his life would probably be forfeit. Fallon had let Astarion do all the talking up to this point, and she either did not notice or did not care as he slowly reached for his dagger.

“I’ve dealt with your kind before, you know,” Astarion said coolly to the hunter as he took a step forward. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, Astarion swiftly grabbed the man by the back of his head and drove the dagger into his eye, smirking as Gandrel gurgled his last breath before dropping lifelessly to the ground. “It wasn’t a good experience.”

Gale, the wizard from the beach, made a horrified noise. Karlach, their fiery new tiefling friend shouted and swore loudly. Fallon, on the other hand, just stared at Astarion in shock. Then, she took a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. “Please tell me you had a good reason for doing that.”

Astarion pulled his blade from the dead man’s eye and wiped the blood on his trousers. “The man was dangerous. Trust me, I did us a favor.”

Another exasperated sigh as Fallon closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger. “Next time you decide to murder someone, at least warn me before you do it.”

Astarion raised his eyebrow and smirked at her. “I will definitely, probably, consider thinking about it.”

Fallon rolled her eyes at him, but Astarion couldn’t help but notice the amused smile she was trying to suppress— likely to keep Gale and Karlach from freaking out further. For whatever reason, she trusted Astarion. Moreover, she seemed to like him.

That was the moment Astarion decided he was going to seduce Fallon. For protection, of course— certainly not because he actually wanted her. Having Fallon on his side would certainly make things easier if Astarion’s companions ever found out he was a vampire. Yes, survival was all that mattered, he didn’t want her.

Right?

—

Astarion observed the party happening in their camp with a sour look on his face. The bottle of wine he’d swiped from the wagon the tieflings brought with them was…well, it wasn’t the worst wine Astarion had ever had, but it certainly wasn’t good, either. The gratitude from the tieflings was endless. One by one, they all made their way to his tent, profusely thanking him for saving their lives. A few were even emboldened enough by the alcohol to make a pass at Astarion, offering to thank him in a more intimate setting, to which he not-so-politely declined. No, there was only one person Astarion was interested in sleeping with tonight.

It was the perfect opportunity. After he failed to drink her blood while she slept, there was an energy shift in Astarion’s relationship with Fallon. They’d come to an agreement: he could drink her blood once every couple of days to maintain his strength, and he could drink the blood of as many of their enemies as he pleased. The blood of their enemies seemed to be endless, and while it sated Astarion’s hunger well enough (certainly more than the blood of animals), it never left Astarion feeling truly satisfied. The only blood that truly satisfied Astarion these days was Fallon’s. He craved her blood in a way he’d never craved anything, and he could only chalk it up to the fact that she was the first thinking creature Astarion ever drank from. Fallon’s blood was more intoxicating than the finest wine, and Astarion often found himself counting the days until he was once again allowed to press his mouth to her neck and bite the spot that made Fallon’s breath hitch and her heart rate increase.

Not only that, but whenever Astarion flirted with Fallon, she flirted back. Fallon entertained his ridiculous musings about what their companions’ blood might taste like (even if she’d confessed she would take a bite from Gale, of all people, given the chance). She indulged Astarion’s vanity when she caught him fruitlessly looking in a mirror, describing his features to him in great (extremely complimentary) detail. Every conversation Astarion had with the elven woman was planting the seeds for the move he intended to make this evening.

Astarion couldn’t help but admire Fallon as she worked the room, graciously accepting the gratitude from the tieflings and the druid, Halsin, who joined their party after they saved him from the goblin camp.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” The sound of Shadowheart’s voice made Astarion jump slightly, as he’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that the cleric had made her way over to his tent, and was standing beside him observing the party.

Astarion looked over at Shadowheart, tilting his head. “A lot of this night is ridiculous, so I’m going to need you to be more specific, darling.”

Shadowheart nodded over to Fallon, who was currently laughing at something the bard– Alina, Alanna, Alfira– was saying to her. “The way they’re all falling at her feet,” Shadowheart clarifies. “Do you think she even realizes every single person at this party would take her to bed, if given the opportunity?”

An amused smirk appeared on Astarion’s face, and raised an eyebrow at the cleric. “Even you?”

“Caught that, did you?” She chuckled as she took a long drink from her wine bottle. “Why not? It’s a party, after all. Though I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Fair enough,” He conceded. “To answer your question…if she does realize it, she’s very good at hiding it.” Astarion studied Fallon as she said goodnight to Alfira, leaving the bard with a longing look in her eyes. Fallon looked over to where Astarion and Shadowheart were standing, and a bright smile appeared on her face as she made eye contact with Astarion.

“Good luck.” Shadowheart said, patting Astarion on the shoulder as she turned to take her leave.

“Not staying to converse with our fearless leader?”

“And bear witness to you trying to convince her to come to bed with you? I’d rather vomit.” Shadowheart teased, and Astarion frowned.

“What are you–” He asked, and Shadowheart gave him a sly grin as she walked away.

“I did say everyone at this party, didn’t I?” Well, she got him there.

Astarion shook his head as the cleric walked away, and drank from his bottle of wine.

“Was I interrupting something?” Fallon asked as she approached.

“Hardly. Shadowheart was just saying goodnight.” He took another sip of wine and winced.

“Why the face?”

“The tieflings don’t exactly have good taste in wine.” He scoffed.

Without another word, Fallon reached out and took the bottle of wine from his hand and drank from it. When she lowered the bottle from her lips, Fallon was trying not to sputter. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re a bad liar, darling.” Astarion chuckled as he took the bottle back.

The smile returned to her face as Fallon broke out into laughter. “Gods, it’s so bad. I’ve been drinking from a bottle I’ve got stowed in my tent all night.”

Astarion faked an appalled look as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You mean to tell me you’ve got something better than this plonk and you’re not sharing? Darling, I’m hurt.”

“To be fair, I got it from Gale.”

“Got it, or stole it?” Astarion asked mischievously.

“He gave it to me– you and I both know I would never be able to steal it without getting caught. That’s what I have you for.” Fallon grinned.

“Is that all you keep me around for, darling? Petty theft?” Astarion flirted, taking a step closer to her.

“You’re also pretty good at killing people without getting caught.” Fallon conceded as she took Astarion’s bottle of wine from him again and took another drink.

“And…what would you say if I were to suggest you and I sneak off later to find a little death without getting caught?” Astarion asked smoothly, not even bothering to hide the suggestive smirk on his face. This was it, the moment of truth: it was time to see if all of the seeds he’d spent the last fortnight planting were going to take root.

Astarion watched Fallon carefully as the slow realization of his suggestion washed over her. Despite the fact that there was a raucous party happening around them, all sound evaporated as he stared at Fallon. Astarion didn’t need to breathe, so the act of holding his breath in anticipation was simply that: an act. Fallon’s expression softened, and she reached forward and pressed the bottle of wine back into Astarion’s hand.

“You don’t have to do this, Astarion.”

Her response was not what he’d been expecting, and the suggestive expression on Astarion’s face faltered as he took a step back from Fallon. “What are you talking about?”

Fallon laughed softly. “I know what you’re doing…and I’m telling you that you don’t have to.”

Astarion stared at her, completely disarmed by her words. “I don’t know what you–”

“Please, I’m not an idiot. You think the only way to guarantee your safety is to seduce me. Right?”

The vampire’s jaw slackened as he stared at the ranger in front of him, completely stunned into silence. “I–” Astarion stammered before closing his mouth again.

“Well, you don’t. You’re my friend, Astarion. Barring the fact that you’ve already saved my ass more than once, being my friend means I’ve got your back. Your protection is already secured. I promise. No sneaking off for a little death required.”

“Okay.” Astarion said stupidly, all other words completely lost in the shock of this woman reading him so thoroughly.

Fallon took Astarion’s free hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Have a good night, Astarion.”

The vampire was too stunned to say anything else as Fallon walked away, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she did. Astarion saw the way her posture and gait changed as she made her way to Gale’s tent. Fallon wasn’t walking over to see the wizard, she was sauntering, and Gale was staring at her with his mouth slightly open as she approached.

Astarion had gathered from the pining looks Gale often gave Fallon when she wasn’t looking that the wizard wanted the ranger, but it never occurred to him that Fallon might want Gale, too. Astarion watched their entire exchange: the way Fallon’s face lit up when Gale cracked a joke, the way she placed her hand on his bicep as they made intense eye contact, the brief look of confusion on Gale’s face that slowly turned into elation as Fallon spoke.

Then, the wizard stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Fallon’s cheek before she turned to walk away, and a surge of jealousy clawed its way into Astarion’s chest as the ranger blushed, a lovesick grin plastered across her face as she went to talk to Karlach. Soon a dull ache replaced the jealousy in Astarion’s heart, and he frowned deeply.

Maybe his desire to sleep with Fallon was about more than just gaining her favor and protection.

Astarion downed the rest of his wine and dropped the empty bottle to the ground. “Shit.”

–

“I assume he belongs to you?” Araj Oblodra addressed Fallon, but she was referring to Astarion. The blood dealer from Menzoberranzan wanted him to bite her, because she wanted to know what it would feel like.

Fallon folded her arms across her chest, and shifted her weight to her left side. Astarion may have been standing behind her, but he knew that stance. It was the one Fallon often took when someone they encountered said something so utterly ridiculous that she was almost in disbelief that they could be so stupid.

“Excuse me? He is his own person.” There was a coldness to her tone, and Astarion swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. What she said, though, hearing Fallon say those words, it warmed Astarion’s heart like it was still beating.

“I’m sure he believes that. How utterly adorable,” Araj turned her attention toAstarion. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“Um, Astarion, but hold on—“ He could feel the panic starting to rise within him as he listened to Araj offer them an extremely valuable potion in exchange for a bite from Astarion. This woman saw him as an object and nothing more: something to be used for her personal enjoyment, something to be exploited.

Astarion declined, and that was not what Araj wanted to hear. That was the moment Astarion’s head started to spin. He felt separated from his body, like he was watching this play out from the rafters, not like he was actually there and participating in the conversation as Araj berated him for saying no.

He didn’t come back to reality until he saw the peak of Fallon’s ponytail somewhat obstructing his vision, because she’d stepped in between Astarion and Araj.

“He said no, now back the fuck off or the only blood you’ll be dealing with will be your own after I spill it all over this gods damned floor.” Fallon threatened, and Astarion felt that warm feeling in his heart again.

Araj made another rude comment about Astarion being a spawn, about him being property, and before Astarion could truly register what was happening, Fallon lunged at the drow, only to be caught around her middle by Karlach.

“Steady soldier, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” The tiefling reminded their leader as Araj drank an invisibility potion and fled. Not that the potion really made any difference— Fallon could still see the drow, courtesy of Volo, even if the rest of them couldn’t.

“I don’t care. I’ll kill her and make it look like a fucking accident. I know how.” Fallon fumed as she struggled against Karlach’s grip.

“Perhaps we should go back to camp for the evening to clear our heads before our cover gets blown and reconvene tomorrow.” Gale suggested anxiously as he peered around to make sure nobody in the adjacent rooms to Araj’s workshop was aware that anything had gone awry.

“Fine, but if she’s here when we come back tomorrow I can’t promise I’ll let her live.” Fallon seethed, and the warm feeling in Astarion’s heart intensified.

Several hours later, once everyone else had gone to bed, Fallon approached him.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she sat down beside Astarion outside his tent.

That was certainly the question, wasn’t it? “I should have given her what she wanted,” Astarion said quietly as he averted his eyes from Fallon. “That potion could have been an asset.”

“No potion is worth having if you have to force yourself to do something you don’t want to do.” Fallon countered.

“There’s so much at stake, though. My whole life since becoming a vampire has been about using my looks to get what I wanted—what Cazador wanted— I should have just gritted my teeth through a single moment of unpleasantness and moved on. That’s…that’s what I used to do. It should have been easy.”

“It wasn’t easy this time because you’re stronger now than you used to be. You’re not a slave anymore— you’re free.” Astarion looked at Fallon and he saw the pride shining in her eyes. She was right. Astarion was definitely not the person he was when they met, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was largely in part to having met Fallon in the first place. “It’s because of you, you know. You—you’ve made me realize that I deserve better. I can’t say I know what the future holds for me, but I know that whatever decisions I make will be mine; and no one can take that from me.”

Fallon smiled genuinely at him and Astarion couldn’t help but smile back. There was just something about her smile that seemed to brighten up even this land shrouded in darkness. “While I wish I could take all the credit, I wouldn’t have gotten through to you if that strength wasn’t already inside you somewhere.” She leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder.

“Gods, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?” Astarion teased with a soft laugh. Not once in the short time that Astarion had known Fallon had he ever witnessed the woman receive a compliment and just say thank you— it was always thank you, followed by some ridiculous reason she didn’t deserve said compliment, or complete denial she deserved the recognition at all.

Fallon let out a sharp laugh. “Caught on, have you?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you always do that? Deflect when someone says something nice about you.” Astarion elaborated as he studied Fallon closely. Her eyes began rapidly looking everywhere except at Astarion as she sat next to him quietly.

When Fallon finally made eye contact with Astarion again, there was a sadness in her eyes that Astarion understood all too well. “The same reason you do it: when someone spends all their time telling you that you aren’t worthy of kind words, eventually, you begin to believe them.”

Though Astarion had come to count Fallon amongst the few he could call a friend, this was the first time Fallon offered up any sort of real information about herself (and her life before they were abducted) to Astarion and suddenly, her rejection at the party with the tieflings made even more sense. The overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around the raven-haired elf and tell her just how worthy and wonderful she was flooded Astarion’s body. Instead, he just stared at Fallon and nodded sympathetically, because doing anything more than that would mean admitting out loud that he cared for Fallon far more than he ever intended to.

Another moment of silence passed before Astarion stood up and disappeared into his tent momentarily. When he returned, he had a bottle of wine in his hand. He uncorked it and took a long drink before passing the bottle to Fallon with a soft smile.

“Here’s to being better than they ever told us we’d be.” Astarion toasted.

Fallon smiled at him as she took the bottle, and just like that, warmth flooded Astarion’s heart again and all of the atrocities of the day began fading away.

Maybe, someday, he would be worthy of that smile.

Maybe, someday, he would be worthy of her.

–

“You’re running out of time, you know.” Shadowheart said to Astarion one morning when they were alone at camp. Fallon, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll had gone to Moonrise Towers to rescue more tieflings, and Lae’zel was at The Last Light Inn, discussing battle strategies with Jaheira and the Harpers.

Astarion gave the cleric a look. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure?” Shadowheart asked slyly, which only exacerbated Astarion’s confusion.

“Yes, I am quite sure.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about Fallon. You’re running out of time to tell her how you feel.”

Despite the calm look that appeared on Astarion’s face when Shadowheart explained herself, deep inside, Astarion was panicking. How did Shadowheart know? Surely it hadn’t been obvious…had it? Astarion didn’t think he’d been treating Fallon any differently since the day they met Araj Oblodra. If anything, he’d given her more space. Astarion scoffed.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.” Astarion said casually.

Another eye roll from the cleric. “Perhaps I was wrong, then. However, on the offhand chance that you’re lying, and I’m not wrong, Gale declared his intentions to Fallon yesterday. After a bloody battle, of all things.”

Despite the neutral look he managed to keep on his face, Astarion’s heart dropped into his stomach. Gale and Fallon had been exchanging bashful smiles and pining glances ever since the tiefling party a few weeks ago, but Astarion didn’t think Gale had the stones to actually do anything about it. Then again, something changed about the way Gale carried himself after that old wizard showed up and instructed Gale to blow himself up at Mystra’s request. Perhaps Gale was going to go through with it, so he needed to strike while the iron was hot.

If that was the case, how dare Gale use her in that way and pass it off as his dying wish? Fallon had a big heart– Astarion had seen it in the way she rushed to help those who needed it and to avenge the people that were lost. He saw it in the way Fallon looked out for Astarion and the rest of their companions, taking the time to actually get to know them and make sure everyone was doing alright, promising to help solve everyone’s individual problems on top of dealing with her own. It was obvious she had feelings for the wizard, and that Gale was content with taking advantage of her feelings and her kindness…to use Fallon and discard her so he could be a martyr for his goddess…it made Astarion’s blood boil.

If that was the case, Astarion would kill Gale himself.

“Astarion?” Shadowheart waved her hand in front of the vampire’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“Sorry, darling, it’s been a while since I ate and the hunger kind of took over my thoughts for a moment.”

Shadowheart smirked at him as she saw through the lie– Astarion fed on Fallon yesterday, and the ranger had the bitemarks to show for it. “Right…well, seeing as I have no intention of being your next meal, I’ll leave you to it. Just…don’t wait too long before you go hunting, alright? I’d hate for you to miss out on something good because your prey got away from you.”

Astarion shot Shadowheart a grateful look, both for not pressing him to verbally admit he had feelings for Fallon, and also for encouraging him to do something about it. “Thank you.”

The rescue mission was a success, and when Fallon, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll returned to camp everyone was in high spirits. Not only had they managed to save all of the tieflings captured by the Absolutists, but also a group of Ironhand gnomes, with no casualties. It seemed like as good a time as any to try and talk to Fallon– not that Astarion had any idea what he was going to say to her. These feelings, his desire for her, it was all foreign and uncharted territory and there was at least a fifty percent chance that Astarion would end up not saying anything at all and making up a reason he wanted to speak with her.

Astarion and Fallon were usually the last two awake– being elves meant they naturally required less sleep than everyone else. Once it seemed like everyone had gone to bed, Astarion momentarily retired to his tent to grab a bottle of wine, certain that alcohol would calm his nerves (plus telling Fallon he loved her over a glass of wine felt like perhaps it was an appropriate romantic gesture). Upon exiting his tent, however, Astarion was greeted with the sight of an astral projection of Gale, and it was speaking to Fallon.

Shit.

What were the chances that what he’d just witnessed wasn’t exactly what Astarion thought it might be? Something told him the probability was low. Astarion hung back until the vision of Gale evaporated before making his way over to the elf, bottle of wine still in hand (just in case). “What was that about? Is the wizard suddenly too good for in-person conversation?” Astarion asked as he approached Fallon from behind. The ranger jumped, clearly not aware that anybody had seen the exchange that just occurred, and when she turned to face Astarion, her cheeks were flushed and there was a giddy smile on her face.

“Oh! Hi! Gale was just– he, um– he invited me to come meet him somewhere private. I guess he wants to show me something?”

So it was exactly what Astarion thought it might be. Fuck. He was too late. “Show you something, hm? I can only imagine what he could possibly want to show you in private.” Astarion smirked as he teased Fallon.

“Shut up.” The elf in front of him rolled her eyes and giggled– Astarion was certain that not only had he never heard Fallon laugh like that before, but it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. Her eyes drifted to the bottle of wine in Astarion’s hand. “Did you need something?”

Astarion shook his head. “I wanted to see if you were interested in a nightcap to celebrate your win today, but it sounds like you’re otherwise engaged, so I’ll be off.”

“I’m sorry.” Fallon apologized, bless her, not that he really had any idea why she felt the need to do so.

“Not to worry.. Another time,” He waved her off with his free hand and an easy smile, hopeful that it masked the fact that he felt like he was dying inside. “Have fun, darling.” With a wink, Astarion turned on his heels and walked back to his tent, his face falling the second his back was to Fallon.

Fallon and Gale did not return to camp until the next morning when everyone was already around the campfire eating breakfast. They were hand in hand, and Fallon giggled softly as Gale leaned in to whisper something in her ear before kissing her cheek.

“It’s about gods-damned time!” Karlach hollered upon seeing them.

“I, too, was growing tired of the longing glances the two of you gave each other when the other was not looking. I’m glad you both finally saw sense. Perhaps now you’ll be able to focus on the problems at hand.” Lae’zel agreed, and Astarion couldn’t help but snort with laughter. Even when she was congratulating someone, she managed to insult them. It was brilliant.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shadowheart’s voice filled Astarion’s mind as she used their tadpole connection to wordlessly communicate with him.

Astarion did not look at Shadowheart, not wanting to give away that they were having a private conversation in their minds. “Like I said yesterday, darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He saw no reason to admit his true feelings to his friend, especially not now– not when they officially didn’t matter. Fallon made her choice, and her choice was not Astarion.

He watched as Gale escorted Fallon to her tent, likely so she could change out of yesterday’s clothes, the dull ache that had taken root in his chest the night before intensifying tenfold as Gale tucked his finger beneath Fallon’s chin and kissed her deeply before making his way to his own tent. The smile on Fallon’s face was bright enough that Astarion was certain even the shadows of this cursed place would shy away.

“She looks happy.” Shadowheart’s voice filled Astarion’s mind again, and he sighed.

“She deserves nothing less.”

Once upon a time, Astarion might have made a play for Fallon’s heart anyway, her relationship with Gale be damned. Ironically, the reason Astarion now listened to his moral compass was entirely due to Fallon’s influence. Without even realizing it (or maybe she did), Fallon had turned Astarion into a better person, and because of that, he was going to let his feelings for her go. If all Fallon was able to offer him was her friendship then Astarion would be grateful for it. He just hoped that seeing her happy with someone else would eventually stop feeling like someone ripped open his chest and threw his heart on the ground.

How sad it was, to finally feel alive again, and not be able to share it with the person who made him feel that way.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #astarion #female tav #gale x tav #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #bg3 fan fiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fan fic #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fan fiction

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aellyart · 1 month

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“Astarion's voice climbed higher as he stumbled backwards three steps, and he was unnecessarily breathing, little fast breaths one after the other as Raphael came closer and closer and finally captured him with one hand around his arm, the other sliding around his waist. Astarion only then realised he was shaking.

Raphael tucked his head carefully into Astarion's neck, not even brushing him with his horns, and inhaled deeply.

'You depraved fucking lunatic,' Astarion gasped. 'You're smelling my fear, aren't you?' “

-Palmarosa, ch. 21 , by @not-poignant Go read it here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/50011675/chapters/126275743

#my art #fanart #bg3 #absolutely in love with this fic y’all it’s incredible #astarion #bg3 raphael #not-poignant #more fan art to come probably >:)#Palmarosa

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astarion-approves · 7 months

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Astarion & Tav taking a bath together? Something gentle and intimate but non-sexual? ♥️

Astarion x Gender Neutral Reader (Tav)

Tag: 1.6k+ words, SFW, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Confessions, Bathing/Washing, bathhouse, No Smut, Drabble, Short & Sweet

“I had no idea that there even was a bathhouse in Baldur’s Gate.” Tav mumbles as they followed behind Astarion, leaving their camp behind in search of a place for a fresh bath. They both carried their own bags, Tav carrying a change of clothes and a bar of soap. Looking at Astarion’s bag, it looked much heavier.

Astarion glanced back to Tav with a boyish grin. “There’s more than one, of course. I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of the free ones though. No, for us, we’re going to take a bath in luxury.”

Read below or on Ao3

Please like and reblog ~

-------------------------------

“Luxury…,” Tav said with a wince. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. It’s on me.”

“Wow, Astarion, it’s almost like a date.”

“Hah!” Astarion barked a laugh. “You wish.”

The bathhouse was huge, the outside painted a bright, flawless white with an emerald trim accenting the pillars and fencing that surrounded it. Two large gold doors signified the entrance, the level of elegance screamed ‘high class.’

Once inside, Astarion strode ahead, already reaching for his coin bag and requesting a private room for himself and Tav to share. Tav watched as the woman working the front desk counted the coin, a ridiculous total of 75 coins for a single bath.

With a room key in hand, Astarion clicked his tongue for Tav to follow, apparently not even phased by the amount of coin he willingly spent for the night. This is the same man who haggled over the cost a black dye with a child two months ago.

Tav supposed it was fine to splurge every once in a while, but they couldn’t justify this. “I could have split the cost with you,” Tav said.

Astarion fiddled with the key, inserting it into their room and twisting his wrist to open it. “Nonsense. Besides, part of the reason I brought you here is to protect me while my head's under water.”

“Right…” Tav nodded. Something that Astarion had admitted months ago.. nearly a year now. During a night of passion, their lips locked together in a heated embrace. But it didn’t feel right. The shock in Astarion’s eyes when they pulled away still pains them. Instead of moving forward and having one another… they talked. They’ve been close friends ever since, giving Astarion the freedom to be open with his fears, to admit why he attempted to seduce Tav in the first place.

Protection.

And even now, as Astarion stripped down to nothing, Tav smiled knowing that he felt safe with them.

The room wasn’t massive, but still larger than any shower room Tav had ever seen. The walls were painted into a beautiful scene, one to trick your mind into thinking you were bathing in nature, surrounded by trees and a waterfall nearby. Tav swore they even saw the leaves move as a subtle breeze rolled through them and through the room.

There was a single shower and a very very large bath. Steam filled the room, the bath already filled to the brim with hot water, which flowed over the sides and into the drains on the floor beside it.

Tav sighed happily as they undressed along with Astarion and stepped up to where the shower waited for them. The floor was hot beneath their feet. The air, although steamy, felt as refreshing as standing at the top of a mountain.

Astarion began unpacking his bag, removing item after item and placing it beside the shower.

After six different items were removed Tav just had to ask, “Wait, just how many products do you use for your hair?”

“Products?” Astarion put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Tav, these are just shampoos, conditioners, hair masks, oil, and a hydrating leave in gloss… do you not take these steps with your hair?”

Tav runs their hand through their hair, shrugging. “No?”

“What? Gods, you’re an absolute savage. Come here.” Astarion grabbed a large bucket that was resting off on the side, turning it upside down and making a temporary chair. “Sit.”

“I can wash my own hair—“

“Sit, Tav. I won’t say it again.”

Tav knew better than to argue and, with a sigh, they plopped down onto the bucket. Soon after, Astarion was turning on the water. It was hot and relaxing, pouring down the top of their head and running down their body.

“Okay,” Tav whispered. “I understand the luxury bath now.”

“Oh, darling. We’re just getting started.”

Astarion poured shampoo into his hands, rubbing his palms together before sliding them into Tav’s hair.

“Oh—“ Tav gasped, their head falling back and into Astarion’s chest.

He chuckled, his finger’s massaging and scratching at their scalp as they worked the shampoo into their hair. “Do I dare ask how you’ve been washing your hair all this time?”

“Cold water and a bar of soap.”

“Like I said, an absolute savage. What ever would you do without me?”

“Uh… Continue bathing with cold water and a bar of soap?”

Astarion tugged on their hair, laughing. “Smart ass.”

Soon he was pushing their head back under the flow of water, rinsing out the shampoo and then continuing with the conditioner.

Tav breathed in deeply, their eyes closing as they allowed Astarion to take care of them. And Astarion held them so gently, his finger’s threading through their hair, his nails pressing against their scalp and moving to the back of their neck. Each stroke sending shivers down Tav’s body as Astarion massaged the conditioner deep into their roots.

“Feel good?”

“Mh.” Tav hummed, shifting their head and resting the side of their face into his chest.

“Ah, no falling asleep. Not yet. Rinse this out and jump in the bath.” Astarion pushed Tav forward, back into the water and let the conditioner wash out.

“What about the other stuff?” Tav asked. They looked to the pile of other products, not wanting Astarion to stop yet.

“Cute,” Astarion said with a small smile. “That comes after the bath. Now hurry up.”

Tav pouted as they stood, giving Astarion the space to sit down. “Do you want me to wash your hair—“

“Bahah! Absolutely not.” Astarion laughed and reached for his shampoo, one of many. “I have a very strict regiment.”

“Oh…”

Astarion sighed and looked back to Tav. “Maybe next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“By the Hells, Tav, just get in the damn bath.”

Turning away from Astarion, Tav did as they were told. Hissing as their toe touched the water, it was even hotter than the shower. Soon they were sinking into it completely, moving to one edge of the bath where there was a bench under the water to sit and rest. They let their head lean back on the edge, their eyes closing as they allowed themselves to relax.

They don’t know how much time passed before Astarion joined them in the water. The vampire sitting next to them and joking about how it looked like he was the one doing the protecting here. Tav simply reached for Astarion and pulled him into their arms, snuggling against him and pressing a single kiss to his shoulder.

“Sleepy, are you?” Astarion slouched in the water, allowing Tav to cuddle him however he wanted, but he still felt a little stiff. “Looking for a cuddle?”

Which they’ve never done before. Not since that night.

Tav cracked open one eye, looking up and into Astarion’s deep blood red eyes that gazed back at them. “What are we?”

Suddenly the tension in the room grew thick, Astarion saying nothing and only continuing to look back at Tav.

Then he hummed, finally ripping his gaze from Tav. “Two friends, sitting in a bathtub, and they’re not in love.”

“We’re not?”

“Well..” Astrarion cleared his throat and continued, “I can’t speak for your lovely little self but—“ He paused, lifting a single hand from the water to cup Tav’s cheek. “Maybe I am? Honestly, Tav, I have no idea.

“We’ve been friends for so long… but I know that I would die for you. I wouldn’t die for the others. I would fight for them, but I wouldn’t die for them. And I miss you when you’re not around me. When you leave camp to go to Gods knows what— washing your hair with fucking sewer water—“

“—I use water from a lake.”

“Or buying me avocados because I ask you too—“

“—What do you even use them for?”

“My hair.”

“Really? Avocados?”

“Yes, it’s very good for your hair, Tav. Can I continue?”

Tav laughed. “Sorry, yes.”

“I don’t know what love is… For so many years, sex, lust.. any sprinkling of romance all ended in disaster… What I feel with you is different. It’s so much more than anything I’ve ever experienced, and we’ve never even fucked! It’s all so strange to me.”

“You don’t have to have sex to be in love with someone, Astarion.”

“Yes, I know that now, but… for the longest time— I didn’t. I want to explore this with you.” Astarion sat up, pulling Tav along with him. “Whatever this is.” He placed his hand against Tav’s chest, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes. “I want your heart to beat like this, only for me. I want to finally know what falling in love is truly like…With you.”

Tav took Astation’s hand, gently pulling it away from their chest and bringing it to their lips, pressing a small kiss on the back of his knuckles. “I love you, exactly as you are, and I’ll never need anything else from you. We’ll take this as slow as you need to.”

Astarion smiled, lowering his head and resting his forehead against Tav’s. “Thank you..”

“Of course,” Tav replied and sank back into the hot water, taking Astarion into their arms once more. This time, Astarion let himself mold into their arms, closing his eyes, relaxing, and enjoying the protection and understanding that Tav offered.

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