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studioghibelli · 2 months

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moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader

summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?

warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)

The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.

With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.

As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.

Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.

He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.

You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.

Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.

Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.

Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.

He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.

And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.

Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.

By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.

You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.

"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.

"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.

Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.

His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.

It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.

Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.

Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.

"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.

The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.

Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.

Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.

What was that about?

Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.

"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.

"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."

"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"

"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."

Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.

With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."

"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.

A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.

He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.

"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.

"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.

He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.

You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."

"What?"

"You're... you're very close to me."

"Do you want me to move? I can."

You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.

A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."

"And what do I want, Professor?"

You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.

You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.

"How do you know that?"

"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.

If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"

"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.

"How did you know?"

"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"

"No."

"Then let me taste you, let me have you."

"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.

"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.

"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.

"I know. But you never answered mine."

"What-.... what question?"

"What do you think I am?"

"You know what I think."

"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.

"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.

"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."

"You're a vampire."

"You're right."

A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.

He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.

"Will you bite me?"

"Bite... you?"

"Please."

Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."

"To me?"

"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.

"How old are you?"

"Very old."

A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."

He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"

"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."

Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.

"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.

"Then I'll give you more."

In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.

"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.

"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.

He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.

You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.

You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.

"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.

"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.

"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.

His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.

His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.

Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.

"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.

He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.

"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.

"Oh, I will."

Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.

"Take me."

"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.

He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.

"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.

Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.

"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.

"I'm yours."

"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."

You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.

"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."

You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.

Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"

"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.

"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.

He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.

You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.

Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.

Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.

"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.

"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."

Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.

His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.

"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.

"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."

"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.

"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"

"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.

You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"

"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."

Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."

He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."

"Yes. A date."

And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.

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annamcdonalds67 · 1 month

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Challenge for the writers 2024

hello, to all the sturniolo fandom writers

I've made a little challenge for you guys that I would like you to participate in

I'm going to write down a bunch of songs down below and I need you to write down a one shot inspired by that song.

This is obviously optional for everyone if you don't want to do this then no problem!

I will edit this post whenever someone has posted a one shot inspired by the song so no one gets blamed for copying

You guys have no limits. I will choose one winner for each category and two runner ups as well

If you see any songs that are like this it means they're taken

The challenge will end at 10th April, and the winners will be revealed a couple days later

Category's

Smut

Fluff

Angst

Rules:

Choose a song

DM me what song you have picked

Tag me in your post

Specify which category you're participating in

And have fun!

Songs:

"Slut!"- Taylor Swift

Make You Mine- Maddison Beer

Golden Hour- JVKE

Better Than Revenge- Taylor Swift

Back To December- Taylor Swift

Is it Over Now- Taylor Swift

Low- SZA

Playing Dangerous- Lana Del Rey

Get Him Back!- Olivia Rodrigo

Labour- Paris Paloma

Bloodline- Ariana Grande

So It Goes...- Taylor Swift

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince- Taylor Swift

Should've said no- Taylor Swift

The Great War- Taylor Swift

Willow- Taylor Swift

Lavender Haze- Taylor Swift

Labyrinth- Taylor Swift

Cupid- FIFTY-FIFTY and Sabrina Carpenter

Our Song- Taylor Swift

Nonsense- Sabrina Carpenter

Feather- Sabrina Carpenter

The Heart Wants What It Wants- Selena Gomez

Shake It Off- Taylor Swift

I Knew You Were Trouble- Taylor Swift

Red- Taylor Swift

West Coast- Lana Del Rey

22- Taylor Swift

Bejeweled- Taylor Swift

The Man- Taylor Swift

Style- Taylor Swift

Blank Space- Taylor Swift

Wonderland- Taylor Swift

Wildest Dreams- Taylor Swift

Bad Blood- Taylor Swift

Vigilante Shit- Taylor Swift

Strangers- Kenya Grace

Delicate- Taylor Swift

End Game- Taylor Swift

I Did Something Bad- Taylor Swift

Paper Rings- Taylor Swift

Anti-Hero- Taylor Swift

Bad Idea Right?- Olivia Rodrigo

Enchanted- Taylor Swift

Gorgeous- Taylor Swift

Speak Now- Taylor Swift

Bubble Pop Electric- Gwen Stefani

Cardigan- Taylor Swift

Dress- Taylor Swift

Lover- Taylor Swift

Look What You Made Me Do- Taylor Swift

Earned it- The Weeknd

...Ready For It?- Taylor Swift

Superman- Eminem

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High- Arctic Monkeys

Daddy Issues- The Neighbourhood, Syd

Cruel Summer- Taylor Swift

Don't Blame Me- Taylor Swift

Video Games- Lana Del Rey

Salvatore- Lana Del Rey

Million Dollar Man- Lana Del Rey

Art Deco- Lana Del Rey

Radio- Lana Del Rey

Sad Girl- Lana Del Rey

Vampire- Olivia Rodrigo

Everybody Wants To Rule The World- Tears For Fears

National Anthem- Lana Del Rey

Summertime Sadness- Lana Del Rey

Sweater Weather- The Neighbourhood

I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together- Taylor Swift

Karma- Taylor Swift

Because I Liked A Boy- Sabrina Carpenter

Say Yes To Heaven- Lana Del Rey

Boyfriend- Dove Cameron

Older- Isabel LaRosa

I'm Yours- Isabel LaRosa

Eyes Don't Lie- Isabel LaRosa

HEARTBEAT- Isabel LaRosa

all-american bitch- Olivia Rodrigo

People You Know- Selena Gomez

Can't Catch Me Now- Olivia Rodrigo

You Belong With Me- Taylor Swift

Iconique- EMELINE

American Horror Show- SNOW WIFE

Reckless- Madison Beer

CARNIVAL- Kanye West, Playboi Carti, Rich The Kid, etc.

Water- Tyla

Exes- Tate McRae

Agora Hills- Doja Cat

Barbie World- Nicki Minaj and Ice Spice

Moonlight- Kali Uchis

Houdini- Dua Lipa

Slumber Party- Ashnikko, Princess Nokia

Greedy- Tate McRae

Obsessed- Olivia Rodrigo

Softcore- The Neighbourhood

Freaks- Surf Curse

Twin Size Mattress- The Front Bottoms

Me and My Husband- Mitski

Always Forever- Cults

Yes, and?- Ariana Grande

Super Freaky Girl- Nicki Minaj

American Jesus- Nessa Barrett

That's my Girl- Fifth Harmony

2002- Anne-Marie

One of The Girls- The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lili-Rose Depp

@hearts4chriss @evieolo @evie-sturns @flynnriderishot @hysteria-things @breeloveschris @lovingmattysposts @sugrhigh @meg-sturniolo @hoesformatt @vanteguccir @freshloveforthefit @gamermattsgf @b2cute @freshloverr @worldlxvlys @sophssturn @matts-k1tten @sukiipjs @rootbeerworshiper @teapartyprincess4two @muwapsturniolo @freshloveee @chris-slut @fake-sturniolos @solarsturniolo @sturnmaee

SPREAD THIS TOO AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE

#imagine #mattsturniolo #sturniolo imagine #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #fans #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #inspired #favorite songs #imagination #blogging

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

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Astarion with Bard!Tav headcanons, pls?

I have a soft spot for Bards. Once, a gender fluid bard who plays the same campaign as I do, scared a creep away and we never saw him again.

Thanks @thedomesticanthropologist for the dialogue. With her permission, I copied it here since it fits the mood of these two gremlins .

Check out her blog, it's amazing!

Hope you will enjoy these headcanons!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Bard!Tav

Astarion is ready for everything when he meets you, but not for the fact you are the most unhinged person the Sword's Coast has seen.

The sworn enemy of many nobles whom you have offended in your songs.

Thrown up from numerous adventure parties for your horniness and a specific type of humor.

if you aren't beaten by someone's spouse for sleeping with a married person, you consider it a bad week.

All the Astarion's flattery? It falls flat!

There is nothing original in what he says. Nothing really interesting in his sweet words!

You could flirt better when you're five.

But you are curious.

Why is he using such cliche pick-up lines on you? Why is he so eager to do it? It's obvious he has no communication skills whatsoever! And hee sounds like a character from an erotic novel.

You are a professional, after all. If you wanted to seduce him, you would have sex the first two hours you two met.

So... you are waiting.

In the meantime, Astarion starts opening up. The real him is so much different from the 'seducer one". He sounds even innocent.

He finally invites you for a night of passion and, at this moment, you can't hold yourself anymore.

"I've been waiting… waiting since the moment we met…"

"So knives to the throat are flirting to you?"

"... I do recall saying it was a darling of a throat or some such, but- it's a line, it's not- you're not supposed to be really listening-"

"So I'm just supposed to be so distracted by your shirtlessness that you can say anything and I'll fall into your arms?"

"Listen, if I wanted to spend the night talking…"

"Couldn't you even bring a blanket? Give me the address of the person who taught you all this boring shit, and I will put my lute up to his arse! Gods!"

The date night is awkward.

You even don't have sex. You talk.

And you play your lute, singing some of the most offensive and inappropriate songs you know.

Astarion allows himself to relax.

He has never felt so safe with anyone. You can laugh all his fears away!

Vampire lords, tortures, violence. It all sounds … hilarious, not scary.

By the morning, you fall asleep. Astarion puts off his shirt to bathe in the sunlight.

When you wake up, you curse out loud.

"What is the fuck is this on your back??"

He explains and you take your lute to play one of the bard healing spells.

It wouldn't help of course, but you soothe his pain a bit.

You use the spells to cast away nightmares. And you also play music to help him meditate and avoid re-visiting bad memories.

Together, you form a murderous couple. There is nothing worse than a bard and rogue.

And you boost his self-esteem. He is afraid of Cazador, he is scared of him. But you -

You compose the most catchy and offensive songs about him.

They are pretty good, by the way, and some bards, including Volo, add them to their repertoires.

At first, it causes some anxiety to Astarion as if he can be punished for your actions.

But soon his fears start fading.

If it's funny, it's not scary.

Together, you defeat Cazador - and you've polished your vicious mockery!

When Astarion is finally okay with intimacy, you have a wild graveyard date which ends up with you two being arrested for disorderly conduct.

Post-game your destiny is decided. You are a traveling bard, after all.

You travel throughout Swords' Coast - singing songs and robbing your audience.

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 months

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Dare to Hope, Dare to Dream (Part 2/?)

Synopsys: For three years now, Astarion and his love have been relegated to living in the shadows as he lost his ability to walk in the sun. But one day hope is reignited, and the vampire can't help but reminisce how he got where he is now.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: violence, abuse, talks of SA, character death, SMUT (if there is anything else that should be tagged, please do let me know)

Word count: 5830

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 1

The composing of the letter was quick work, as excitement thrummed through their veins, but every passing day diminished the accumulating hope.

It was agonising, waiting for Gale to respond. Where usually Astarion’s mind was preoccupied with Y/N, now it was occupied by that damned tome and that damned fucking page he couldn’t read.

There was a huge possibility it could be nothing but a simple song or a poem. It could be a curse for all he knew, but something in his still heart screamed it could be the thing that set him free from living in eternal darkness and making his love live like that too.

He’d give anything, pay any price for Y/N to be able to walk in the sun again, and if his hand was in hers, wrapped around her waist or tucked against his chest as they enjoyed the wonders of the world in colour, not the perpetual greys of night, he would beg on his knees if he had to.

His love didn’t seem to be fairing any better. She was fidgety all the time, where she used to be able to sit and watch Astarion patching up a shirt of hers or adding gorgeous swirls of gold and silver, now she organised and cleaned his whole tailoring room over and over again. Y/N cooked almost obsessively, way too much food for just one of them to eat, and it almost drove him mad how restless she’d become during sleep as well.

Worry ate at him that Y/N hadn’t gotten proper rest in days, all because of that damned book. Would it be worth it? Would her losing sleep be worth it in the end? Nothing that hurt her was, not in Astarion’s mind, but whenever he asked her to leave something be, said that he’d pick it up, she’d simply shrug and say, “No time like the present.”

Taking into account his feedings as well, his heart twisted at the thought that all of this was weighing on her shoulders, but luckily at least some of the burden of wait was lifted when Gale’s answer came.

To their relief, the wizard gave them good news and apologies, as he’d travelled beyond the Sword Coast with his grandfather, but would be taking the first available ship to Baldur’s Gate. It would take at least three weeks of travelling, but he would waste no time beyond that and go straight to their home, and that left the two anxious lovers to occupy their time however they could.

Y/N had already rearranged the whole library twice by then, half in search of figuring out where this mysterious book had come from, half in absolute boredom, while Astarion had taken to sowing and stitching dresses and tunics and shirts and trousers and even a gorgeous set if not a scandalous one of lingerie for Y/N (which he had promptly ripped to shreds that same morning she’d donned it to go to bed).

She’d admonished him through a desperate moan, as his tongue had skimmed against her neck, lace scraps still around her ribs and hips, nothing more left of the intricate design he’d so patiently made. Not that it’d covered much in the first place.

“I’ll make you hundreds more just to rip all of it off again,” Astarion groaned as her hips ground up against him, delicious friction causing him to respond in kind.

“But it was so beautiful!” Y/N whined when Astarion took her wrists in one of his hands and held them in a tight grip above their heads.

“Nothing is as beautiful as you completely bare and uncovered for me. So… delectable…”

Let’s just say neither of them could get out of bed after the sun had set, as their legs wobbled at the lightest touch to the ground, leading them to another day of sleeping in, and a night of passionate debauchery.

However, as much as Astarion wished to stay like that with Y/N, both of them naked and twined in bed, other things had to be done around the house, and at that moment, he’d asked Y/N to model a dress for her.

He didn’t dare say the cut was based on a sketch hidden deep in his drawers, and originally it was made of white lace with an accompanying veil, not the jade colour he’d cut it in now.

“Do you think we’re harbouring false hope?” she asked, colour-coding his threads and placing the box neatly back on the table after Astarion allowed her to redress and was happy with how the skirt flew around her hips.

“In what way, my dear?”

“I just,” Y/N huffed, sitting down on the arm of the chair next to him, watching how his quick fingers stilled their needlework so as to not poke her accidentally. “I don’t want you to be disappointed if this… if this isn’t what we think it is. I know how much you miss the sun.” Y/N gently threaded her fingers through his moon-white locks. “I know how guilty you feel for me having to forego it. You don’t have to say anything,” she interrupted whatever was on Astarion’s tongue. “I can see it on your face.”

He looked down at the green gown’s hem he was embellishing. He’d tried so hard to hide the guilt seeping through his veins. He didn’t want her to know that; he already burdened her life as is.

“I can’t say it wouldn’t hurt if what we hope doesn’t come true.” Astarion put the needle and dress on the table, turning to Y/N and pulling her into his lap. “I wish I could give you the world, but I can barely give you half… if even that much. You deserve so much more than what you’ve deemed enough. I just want to… give you more…”

“My Star, please don’t even think you’re not enough for me.” Y/N brushed a pale curl behind his ear.

He gave her a rueful smile. “A little mind-reader you are, aren’t you?”

She simply shrugged, melting against his chest, his undead heart beating just a tad stronger at how much comfort she got from simply being held by him. “It’s not so hard nowadays when you’ve become an open book to me.”

Astarion had nothing to respond to that because he knew he had, at least with Y/N. He might not voice it out loud, but his heart was open. Yes, fear still lingered in bleeding gashes around the edges, but he knew, she’d always be there to dab at the pained spots and heal them with a kiss.

“I’m not leaving,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not now, not ever. Not when the sun sets or rises. An army would have to come in and tie me up before dragging me away from you. And even then, I’d be kicking and screaming, biting my way out to get home.”

Astarion’s breath stuttered, but he didn’t mention what the words of her referring to him as her home did to him. “I just want if only a minute to stand in the sun with you. If that’s all I’m given for the rest of eternity, it’s what I’ll take. Just a moment with you in the sun.”

Y/N took his chin between her thumb and pointer finger, tilting his head up so their eyes could meet – his scarlet ones brimming with unshed tears, her own Y/E/C ones filled with nothing but sure-fire determination. “Whatever is in that book, spell or no, we’ll figure it out. But one day, I know, you will be able to walk in the sun again. I’ll make sure of it. Even if I have to raise all nine hells, I’ll find a way.”

“I know you will.” Astraion sighed, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Y/N’s laughter was the most gorgeous symphony to his ears. She gave a light kiss to the very tip of his right one, a shiver of pleasure rushing down his spine. “We’ll figure it out, my Star.”

That morning, just a couple of hours after their conversation, as Y/N was closing all the shutters to their home so as to not let in the sun of the new day, Astarion slid his palm into hers, tugging her to their bed while kissing every inch of her skin he could get to.

He needed to be close to her, he needed to sink into her and fuse together, become as close to one body as possible, otherwise, it was like he was going to combust from the love unless he could bathe her in it.

“I need you,” Astarion whispered against her cheek, as Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You have me,” she responded in kind. “All of me is yours if you want it.”

A shudder went through his body as he swiftly, but tenderly rid both of them of their clothes, gentle hands running over Y/N’s hips and sides, as she lightly squirmed away from him when he playfully dug his fingers against her ribs, before trailing their way to her stomach, where a jagged scar stood slightly raised against the rest of her body.

“And I’m yours. Body and soul,” Astarion said, still looking at that scar while he slowly slipped his frame to rest atop, his cock sliding through her already slick folds, lightly nudging his tip against her clit in a teasing manner.

“Mine,” Y/N sighed out dreamily, as he filled her, her legs locking around his hips, ankles crossed over the small of his back to pull him deeper until their hips rested flush against one another.

A slight whimper escaped him as he affirmed. “Yours… just yours, my love.”

He’d never thought that such a word as “mine” would bring him such feelings of love and adoration.

Astarion had always wanted to belong. He’d always wanted a family, friends or a true lover to build his life with, but for a horribly long time, all because of Cazador, that wish was locked away in a tomb just like him. And after a while of pain and misery, he just gave up on the idea as a whole. Belonging to someone became a despised thing, a notion he had no free will. He was a pet, a thing to be had and done with as his master pleased.

But then that Nautiloid ship happened, and he gained allies. Who morphed into friends, and then Y/N, the oddest one of their group, became so much more than that.

That night when he’d offered himself to her, he’d been ready to use his body as coin, as he’d been taught, if it granted him food, shelter and protection. Astarion was used to whoring himself out, but that wouldn’t be the worst he’d done. At least Y/N was nice to look at. She included him in conversations during the day and asked for his opinion. It would most certainly be lovelier than the other times.

Yet she’d surprised him and said no. She still offered him all the things he asked for, even her neck if he needed to feed, but Y/N was adamant she would not take sex as payment for such things.

Astarion took a surprised step back. “Am I – do I not appeal to you?”

Why did it sting? Why did the thought of the answer being “yes” hurt so much?

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s just that you don’t have to ask for those things and sleep with me as payment.”

“Oh.” That stumped him truly. His mind reeled at her words. “Then what is it that you want?” A cheeky comment was right there for him to spit out, but he refrained.

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe patch a hole in a shirt, if it gets too ruined? Help me carry part of my loot if it gets too heavy? We’re friends, or at least good travel companions, I’d like to think.”

That moment had changed everything for Astarion. It had changed how he looked at himself and what he could ask of the world. She’d helped him learn he could say no.

When Y/N had been close to decapitating that vile Drow Araj after she looked at him like he was a puppet for Y/N to use, Astarion had confessed that night – his whole plan of seducing her, securing his safety and getting in her good graces so he always had someone to have his back if suddenly the rest of their party decided to turn against him.

The kiss they’d shared, initiated by Astarion himself, felt like the first kiss of his life. He was jittering like a youth as Y/N’s lips pressed to his. And for the first time in ages, he thought maybe he had someone, to be with not belong to.

When she cried out in ecstasy as Astarion started to move, slowly dragging his hips back and forth, allowing her to feel every ridge and dip and immersing himself in the warm, wet feeling surrounding him, his thoughts couldn’t help but wander to that moment in the Szarr Palace when Y/N had cried in pain instead as Cazador’s knife dug deep into her gut.

She’d gone in for an attack in an attempt at freeing Astarion from the grasp of the Ascension ritual, and she had almost gotten Cazador, had the vampire not moved in the last second, twisting away from her sword and delivering the critical hit himself.

Someone screamed so loud, the sound verged on popping Astarion’s eardrums. It was only when his throat went raw he realised it was him screaming.

Cazador didn’t even bother to pull the knife out, letting Y/N drop to the ground in a heap, her blood trickling out of her wound and pooling around her body, staining the tiles a deep red.

Astarion wanted to retch at the sight.

“Pathetic,” Cazador spat. “Both of you.”

Nothing but white-hot rage coursed through Astarion’s veins as he watched his master walk around Y/N’s crumpled form, nudging her with his foot as if she were nothing more than a worm.

“I cannot deny,” Cazador mussed. “For a brief second, I did consider turning her into a new addition to our family. It would have been fitting – my prodigal son, returning and bringing the last piece I need. A fitting punishment, for your disobedience, Astarion, wouldn’t you agree? You’ve broken pretty much all of my rules, and someone has to pay.”

Cazador turned his back on Y/N, obscuring Astarion's view of her. “And how poetic would have it been, had it been you draining her, taking every last drop of her blood, only for me to sire. I think I would have enjoyed your screaming immensely, but no matter. It would only be a waste of time.” The vampire master smirked at a struggling Astarion. “Tell me – was her blood sweet? It smells absolutely delectable. Maybe I should have a little taste.”

“Fuck you!” Astarion roared. “Damn you to all nine hells!”

Cazador only chuckled. “Maybe a couple of decades in that tomb of yours will do you good. Remind you of manners. Or maybe I will let Godey -,” but he didn’t manage to finish whatever horrors he was already painting in his mind as he choked on the words.

The vampire’s dark brows furrowed as he slowly glanced down and saw a blade protruding from his stomach, the hilt buried deep against his spine.

Surprise, anger and confusion all flashed across the immortal’s face as Y/N yanked the dagger out. Cazador slowly turned and found Y/N standing before him, a hand clutching against her stomach.

“That,” she gasped. “Is for what you did to me and this,” she thrust her hand again, this time letting the blade go clean through Cazador’s neck, “is for what you did to Astarion.”

She left the blade there, taking a few steps back on swaying feet, but it was enough of a distraction to break Cazador’s concentration and Astarion dropped free.

He was on his feet in an instant, pulling the knife Y/N had plunged back out and then smashing it deep into Cazador’s gut over and over and over again until there was nothing left of him but a mangled, almost cut-in-two, corpse.

Astarion dropped to his knees, chest heaving with exertion, his whole body covered in blood, all of it Cazador’s. Who was dead.

Cazador was dead.

His master, his torturer, the one who robbed him of his life and choices was finally gone.

Relief rolled through him like a tidal wave, his body slowly but surely wracked by sobs as catharsis set in. Two hundred years of pain and misery, two hundred years of not owning his body or mind, and now he was suddenly free.

He didn’t know how to process such a realisation. It seemed almost easier to live his life in fear, to constantly look over his shoulder and go to bed with the thought his miracle of a chance at life could be taken away at any moment. In that way, he didn’t have to create friendships or relationships, he didn’t need to get close to anyone and risk losing them. He could just always keep peeking through the tiny slit from the boarded-up window, instead of poking his head through the crack in the door.

So what was he to do now, when that door had been blasted wide open?

“Y/N,” Astarion whispered her name, his head snapping up and scanning the hall, quickly landing on her body.

She’d collapsed about fifteen feet away from Cazador, but it took him less than five seconds to be by her side. With trembling hands, he took her by the shoulder and turned her on her back, so he could see her face.

A sob raked through him. “Please,” Astarion begged, pulling her head to rest on his thighs. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Star,” his name was a moan of pain from Y/N’s lips. And he hated it.

It was supposed to be a sigh of pleasure as his tongue lapped against her sweetest spot, a groan of delight when he sank into her, his hands holding hers, lips pressed together in a reassuring kiss. It was supposed to be a laugh between hiccups as he joked and snarked. It was supposed to be anything but this.

Her body was covered in so much blood, and had it been Cazador’s he would have been fine, but he knew it wasn’t. It was her own, that sweet and tantalizing scent of it running up his nose. Usually, the tiniest drop of it, could turn him feral, but all it did now was make bile rise in his throat as more and more of it coated his hands and the floor around them.

“I’ll complete the ritual,” he choked, brushing a strand of matted-down hair away from Y/N’s face. “And then I’ll save you.”

“Don’t,” she gasped, begging him. “Please don’t.”

“I can’t let you die,” he could barely manage the words, but she still heard them and shook her head.

“And I will not let you kill innocents just to save my life.” Y/N clutched at his arm as tightly as she could with all her remaining strength that was weaning with every passing second. “If you do this, I will never forgive you. You’ll become just like Cazador. And I know you are so – so much more than that. Than him. Don’t let Cazador win. You – you fought so hard,” she sobbed out, half at the implication of what he’d overcome, half at Astarion pressing down on her wound as he attempted to staunch the bleeding, but to no avail. “Don’t throw all of it away. Not for this.”

Astarion swivelled his head around desperately as if a response on what to do could be found in the room, yet nothing but Cazador’s mangled body and the pool of blood it’d created answered.

“Please,” he whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead to Y/N’s and once again repeated. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” her response was barely a puff of air. “I will always be right here with you, Star. To the very end.”

Y/N placed her palm right where his undead heart broke into pieces, and when she closed her eyes, the only sound left was the echoes of his screams.

He might’ve been screaming for ages, Astarion didn��t know nor did he care. All he knew was that his love, his sun, his reason for living was gone.

The sound of the door being broken down invaded his mind, as many pairs of footsteps entered, but Astarion paid no mind to his friends. They could all go to the nine hells with Cazador for his sake, as long as he got to stay with Y/N.

He heard Karlach, the gentle giant of their group gasp out Y/N's name, and even Lae’Zel’s hiss of surprise was unmistakable, the scene before them rendering the rest speechless.

“She almost looks like she’s sleeping,” Astarion muttered, tracing his knuckles against Y/N’s cold skin. So close to his own temperature he didn’t feel the difference. A tear splashed against her cheek, rolling down her temple and disappearing into her hairline.

“Astarion, Shadowheart can help,” Wyll said, stepping closer, but the pale elf just shook his head.

“No,” he muttered, tracing her unmoving features with his thumb. “No one will hurt her. Not anymore.”

“Astarion, she won’t hurt Y/N,” Gale piped up. “We can bring her back.”

But he wasn’t listening anymore. He didn’t care what they were saying. No one else would ever touch her. No one would ever dare hurt her again. He’d set the world on fire if they so much as touched a hair on her head.

His friends however had different ideas. With apologies on their lips, they grabbed him, ripping him away from Y/N, her body unceremoniously dropping to the ground from where her head had been resting against his thighs.

“I’ll kill all of you!” Astarion screamed, trying to bite and scratch as he was pulled further and further away from Y/N. “Some friends you are!”

It took Karalch physically ripping him away from Y/N’s dead body, Lae’Zel and Wyll helping her pin him to the ground as Shadowheart and Gale crouched beside his love, while Astarion trashed against their hold.

“He took her,” Astarion wailed and roared, his pain echoing in the chamber around them. “He took her!"

There was no need for elaboration. Not even Lae’Zel, always so quick to show her disdain against emotion, spoke. Instead, she moved a bit to the side, so Astarion could at least be granted the gift of seeing Y/N’s face as Shadowheart and Gale hovered over her dead body.

“He killed her, and I could do nothing about it,” Astarion whimpered, eyes focused on the serene look his lover had in death. He only hoped she felt at peace wherever she was.

A pale blue light glowed from Shadowheart’s hands, Gale’s power feeding hers.

“It won’t work.” He let the tears fall freely from his eyes. “She’s gone.”

It was a resigned statement from someone who was completely exhausted. He’d prepared for never leaving the Szarr palace, for dying, if he had to, but he’d never prepared himself for losing Y/N. She had become such a staple, such a sure thing in his life, he no longer could imagine how a single day without her smile could go. But now she was gone and –

His brows furrowed. It had to be a trick of his mind, a hallucination his grief-stricken heart was conjuring up, but there it was – the sweetest sound in the world he never thought to hear again – Y/N’s heartbeat.

A ragged intake of breath shattered through the hall, and he watched as her lashes fluttered. Her lungs stuttered as if they needed a minute to reconnect with her brain before they levelled out and remembered how to breathe.

Karalch, Wyll and Lae’Zel released their hold, and Astarion slowly sat up on his forearms. When Y/N took in her first full steady breath, Shadowheart slumped over, Gale already having expected it, dropping into a crouch and allowing her to lean on his side.

He couldn’t believe it. Y/N had died in his arms, he’d watched her life’s blood seep across his hands, and yet there she was – on the ground, her heart beating and lungs dragging in short breaths, barely but still.

“She needs rest,” Shadowheart said, running a soothing hand down her friend’s cheek. “As do I.”

“Let’s get back to the inn.” Wyll approached and helped the exhausted cleric, as he wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her up, without much of a fuss. Lae’Zel and Gale hovered over Y/N until Astarion was capable of getting to his feet, knees trembling like a fawn's. Whether they were there for him or her, Astarion didn’t know but appreciated nonetheless.

“Would you like me to carry her?” Gale offered, a gentle look on his face, nothing but concern evident, but Astarion shook his head.

“I’ll do it.” His voice was raw from the screaming and crying, but he didn’t care to clear it as he gently lifted her up.

Y/N’s head lolled to rest against his chest as if on instinct and he had to push down a sob as he felt her warm, alive body curl into his own, like so many times before now.

Karlach laid a leather jacket across Astarion’s naked shoulders, but all he could concentrate on were the shallow breaths entering Y/N’s lungs, her slow but steadily beating heart and the way her fingers curled against where his still one rested.

The whole trek back to the lodgings they’d procured previously, Astarion was numb, completely and utterly numb save for the incessant need to check if Y/N was breathing. He was struggling to figure out his emotions.

As he laid her down in the bed, Karlach lighted a fire and Gale promised to bring a cloth and some warm water for Astarion to clean Y/N up, he couldn’t help but grieve Cazador.

He didn’t stray from his love’s bedside not even for a second, keeping vigil day and night, but most importantly watching her chest rise and fall with deep, even breaths, yet some part of him mourned his master as well.

Three days after the events of the Szarr Palace, Astarion had reluctantly agreed to have a quick wash while Karlach watched over Y/N. He regretted that decision more than anything because sometime during the ten minutes he allowed himself to get rid of the crusted blood, she had awoken.

When he re-entered the bedroom, Astarion almost fainted at the sight of her beautiful Y/E/C eyes boring into his scarlet ones.

“Hello, Star,” she croaked through a smile, and he almost crumbled then and there by the doorway, had it not been for the tight grip on the knob.

Karlach made a quick exit, but not before placing a warm palm against his shoulder, giving him a slight nudge in Y/N’s direction, though he didn’t need one. It was like she had a magical pull, making him stumble across the room before his knees gave out with a hard thud and his hand desperately sought out Y/N’s. When their fingers entwined in a tight hold, he swore to himself to never let go of her again.

“I thought I lost you,” his voice broke. “I – I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’m sorry,” her own tone was quiet, barely a whisper. “But I couldn’t just let him hurt you more.”

“I know. I know you… I just…” He huffed, brows furrowing as he searched for the correct words. “I thought when I got my freedom back, you would be there by my side, but instead you were the cost of it.” Astarion choked on the word “cost”. “But at the same time, I couldn’t help but mourn the loss of him.” He didn’t say his name, he’d decided Cazador wasn’t worth having the honour of a name spoken aloud.

“And it felt disgusting. He hurt you. He took you from me, and yet… I didn’t even have him left after your… your… heart stopped,” Astarion took a shaky intake of breath. “I was completely and utterly alone. When Shadowheart appeared, I was almost tempted to ask her to revive him just so I could kill him again for what he did to you… and maybe, just so I wasn’t alone.”

Astarion lifted his gaze, resting his cheek against the palm Y/N had untwined from his, so her soft thumb could brush away the rivers of tears spilling down his face. “Please don’t leave me again. I’m – I’m not strong enough to go through it once more.”

“You are, my Star,” Y/N kissed his forehead. “You are so strong.”

“Let me rephrase that then – I don’t want to go through anything in life. Not without you by my side.”

“I promise,” she muttered and leaned forward pulling Astarion to lay next to her, sealing the vow with a kiss.

And though he still struggled with nightmares of that fight, though he still woke up breathless at times, arms desperately searching for the warm body that always occupied the other side of the bed, the deepest reassurance he could ever have that everything was alright, that Y/N was safe and sound, were moments like these when her body melted against his, where she was panting and gasping and so full of life, especially as Astarion hit that one spot that made Y/N throw her head back in a moan of pleasure.

Her nails dug into his shoulders with such a delicious taste of pain, never drawing blood though, but always leaving crescent imprints he wanted to keep on his body forever. Like Y/N’s touch could erase everything Cazador had left on him.

Y/N’s back arched, and Astarion used the moment to slip his hands underneath and pull her upwards from the bed so that she was resting in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, chest to chest, and him buried so deep, it made both their eyes roll to the backs of their heads in pleasure.

She’d taught him sex could be wonderful. It could be meaningful and lovely, instead of a means to an end or a bargaining chip to be used. It had taken a while for Astarion to grow comfortable with even the thought of her touching him, but nowadays, he became quite the grump if he ever awoke not in Y/N’s arms, even if it was for such a simple reason as nature calling her.

Her touch was the balm on sunburnt skin, her kiss was a reassurance that it needn’t go further than that and he could always say no and would be listened to. But in moments like these, all Astation wanted was more. He wanted to feel her squeeze around him, to hear her breath choke at the back of her throat, he craved to feel her pulse race as she climbed higher and higher, closer and closer to her orgasm with every thrust of his hips.

Sex had been something repulsive and vile to him. Now it was the most beautiful thing he felt blessed to participate in, all because of the woman moaning his name above him.

“I’m so close,” she whispered in his ear as Astarion kissed her neck, heart thundering in her chest.

“Let go,” he muttered, a shiver rolling down Y/N’s spine at the pleading tone of his words, making her grip his back tighter, and dig in her nails more. “Let go, I got you.”

She whimpered at his coaxing words and tightened so much around his cock, it became almost impossible for Astarion to keep pumping in and out, so he slid a hand down across her chest to her clit, just to push her over that edge she was teetering on.

Two deft fingers circled around the swollen bud, once, twice and that was it for Y/N to break. With a sigh of his name, she came, hard, taking him along as well, the orgasm surprising Astarion with its intensity and how quickly it’d crept upon him.

Bliss exploded through his veins, and his nails dug into the small of Y/N’s back, always careful to not hurt her, but deep enough to leave moon-shaped marks on her body, the same ones she no doubt had left along his back and shoulders as they both succumbed to euphoria.

A moan got stuck in his throat before slipping past his lips as Y/N ground down one final time, before stilling her hips and relishing how he filled her until the mix of their pleasure ran down their thighs and stained the sheets below. Never mind that though. It was a problem for future Astarion and Y/N.

They both were trembling as, slowly, the orgasmic wave subsided, and as they came down from their highs, Astarion couldn’t help but place a cheeky kiss on Y/N’s neck, letting his fangs skim along her skin and feel her pulse spike at that.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, her hands slowly skimming up and down his spine, body still rocked by pleasure. “If you want a snack, you know all you have to do is ask.”

“I’m fine,” Astarion mumbled, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. “I just… I just love you. That’s all.”

At least that’s what he said, but underneath laid a thousand other words – I need to feel your heart beating. I have to feel your skin against mine. I need to hear you breathing and know that you’re alive and here with me. That he wasn’t imagining it as some sort of a hallucination and wouldn’t wake up back under Cazador’s control with her body lying dead on the ground by his feet.

Y/N hummed in content, pressing a kiss to Astarion’s chest. “I love you too. So much.”

A smile bloomed on his lips as he pulled away just a bit so he could cup Y/N’s face between his hands. “I don’t know what I may have done in my previous life, and I certainly don’t know what I did in this one to ever deserve someone like you, but whatever it was… I’m glad I did.”

The way her eyes shone would have brought Astarion to his knees, had he already not been kneeling on the bed. Y/N was just about to pull him in for a deep kiss when their moment was disturbed by the bell of their house ringing.

They knew it was daytime. And only one person would ring it then.

Astarion looked at Y/N.

She lifted a brow. “Ready to figure out what’s in that book?”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “With you, I’m ready for anything.”

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: I am in love with pixels on a screen...

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 5 months

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🌈 Queer Books Out December 2023 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ Caught in a Bad Fauxmance by Elle Gonzalez Rose 🧡 Heartstopper #5 by Alice Oseman 💛 This Cursed Light by Emily Thiede 💚 All The Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows 💙 Vampires of Eden: Book One by Karla Nikole 💜 Not My Type by Joe Satoria ❤️ Storm in Her Heart by KC Luck 🧡 Eternal Embrace by Luna Lawson 💛 A River of Golden Bones by A.K. Mulford 💙 Tomb of Heart and Shadow by Cara N. Delaney 💜 Through the Embers Volume 2 by Adriana Sargent 🌈 Lucero by Maya Motayne

❤️ The Poison Paradox by Hadley Field & Felix Green 🧡 Second Chances in New Port Stephen: A Novel by TJ Alexander 💛 Matrimonial Merriment by Nicky James 💚 Under the Christmas Tree by Jacqueline Ramsden 💙 Every Beat of Her Heart by KC Richardson 💜 The Memories of Marlie Rose by Morgan Lee Miller ❤️ Playing with Matches by Georgia Beers 🧡 Always Only You by Chloe Liese 💛 Fire in the Sky by Radclyffe and Julie Cannon 💙 Nuclear Sunrise by Jo Carthage 💜 The Naked Dancer by Emme C. Taylor 🌈 Resurrections by Ada Hoffmann

❤️ Destiny’s Women by Morgan Elliott 🧡 Framed by Kate Merrill 💛 The Spoil of Beasts by Gregory Ashe 💚 Catered All the Way by Annabeth Albert 💙 A Cynic’s Christmas Conundrum by L.M. Bennett 💜 Yours for the Taking by Gabrielle Korn ❤️ One Swipe Away by Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue 🧡 The Gentlemen’s Club by A.V. Shener 💛 A Death at the Dionysus Club by Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold 💙 Secrets of the Soul by Holly Oliver 💜 Like They Do in the Movies by Nan Campbell 🌈 Limelight by Gun Brooke

❤️ Heart First by S.B. Barnes 🧡 Grave Consequences by Sandra Barret 💛 Haunted by Myth by Barbara Ann Wright 💚 Invisible by Anna Larner 💙 The Murders at Sugar Mill Farm by Ronica Black 💜 Coasting and Crashing by Ana Hartnett ❤️ Fairest by K.S. Trenten 🧡 A City of Abundant Opportunity by Howard Leonard 💛 The Dark Side of MIdnight by Erin Wade 💙 Mending Bones by Merlina Garance 💜 Transform by Connal Braginsky & Sean Ian O’Meidhir 🌈 The Apple Diary by Gerri Hill

❤️ TruLove by Nicole Pyland 🧡 Structural Support by Sloan Spencer 💛 Whiskey War by Stacy Lynn Miller 💚 Overkill by Lou Wilham 💙 Heart of Outcasts by Nicole Silver 💜 In the Shadow of Victory by J. E. Leak ❤️ Just Like Her by Fiona Zedde 🧡 Gingerbread: Claus For Christmas by Miski Harris 💛 Lies are Forever by C. Jean Downer 💙 The Boys in the Club by M.T. Pope 💜 Lasting Light (Metal & Magic) by Michelle Frost 🌈 Tell No Tales by Edie Montreux

❤️ Radio Silence by Alice Oseman 🧡 Even Though We're Adults Vol. 7 by Takako Shimura 💛 The Accidental Bite by Michelle St. Wolf 💚 Mated to the Demons by Taylor Schafer 💙 Someday Away by Sara Elisabeth 💜 Gatherdawn Luminia Duet Volume 1 by Lee Colgin ❤️ Curse of Dawn by Richard Amos 🧡 Healing the Twin by Nora Phoenix 💛 Ride Me by KD Ellis 💙 How to Bang a Vampire by Joe Satoria 💜 Cthulhu for Christmas by Meghan Maslow 🌈 Prestige by Toni Reeb

❤️ Don't Look Down by Jessica Ann 🧡 Winter and the Wolves by Chris Storm and Kinkaid Knight 💛 Hat Trick by Ajay Daniel 💚 Starborn Husbands: Return to the Pleiades by S. Legend 💙 Dead Serious Case #4 Professor Prometheus Plume by Vawn Cassidy 💜 Practice for Toby by Amy Bellows ❤️ The Siren's Song by Crista Crown 🧡 Hers to Hunt K.J. Devoir

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storiesbyrhi · 1 year

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: In honour and love. 2562 words.

Author’s Note: We pick up where we left off.

1986

“You’re welcome…”

Your feet were planted so solidly on the ground it was as though you’d grown roots. He took the few steps needed to almost close the space between you.

“Why… why are you helping?”

Oh.

Your body had an almost visceral reaction to his voice. It was more than a familiar sound; it felt like home. You wanted to cry. “I... I… Uh- That’s hard… to explain…”

He looked you up and down, then accepted your answer with a nod.

“I need to… need to bury him,”

“Let me,” the man moved faster than you, scooping the dog’s body up and holding it against his chest.

“Oh… No… He can’t be dumped somewhere. I need to bury him. He deserves to be honoured.” You could feel embarrassment bubble up, something you weren’t used to. It was easy to talk about the craft around witches. It was easy to hide it from humans with clever language. It was entirely illogical, but you needed him to understand what you were saying. You were afraid he’d laugh or deny you this rite.

The man looked from you to the dog. “I know where to go. If you’ll take us,”

“How… Do… Do you remember? Being a bat?”

He nodded. “I am… starting to.”

As the vampire dressed in borrowed clothes, ones that fit more poorly than the last, you picked the best apple in your fruit bowl and a piece of Apache Tear obsidian from your crystal collection, stashing them in your bag.

You checked outside the trailer for nosy neighbours. The coast was clear and you walked to your car. The man had never been in a car. He’d seen them. Knew, in theory, that he just had to sit in it. Still, it presented a challenge.

When you unlocked the passenger side door and opened it for him, he stood awkwardly for a second. “Unless it's close enough to walk?” you asked him. He shook his head and got into the car, holding the dog’s body like a security blanket.

As you drove out of Forest Hills, you stopped at the main entrance. “Which way?”

The man nodded north.

You turned the radio on to fill the silence, assuming there was no conversation to be had.

“You do not belong in this place,”

“No. I don’t,” you agreed. “I used to be. Before the town, before… this lifetime… I lived here with my sisters,”

“They are not here now,”

“No. I’m the only witch here,”

“A witch,” he repeated, nodding to himself.

“Do you know what that is?” you asked.

He looked at you, his eyesight unaffected by the night. “I… may,”

“Oh… Okay. Well. Are you remembering anything else? About what you are?”

“I need blood.”

Of course, he’d know blood. “You will die without it. Well… A kind of death. Eventually. That would be very painful for you though,”

“Yes,” he said, like he knew that. Perhaps the thirst for blood was so innate that the knowledge he’d die without it was too. “Vampire.”

The word startled you. It was still surreal. It was as if a Tasmanian tiger or woolly mammoth were to walk out in front of your car.

He was a vampire. A vampire you had helped. A vampire you had taken a living thing to, to kill. It hadn’t occurred to you until then that you could have simply healed the ridgeback. You could have healed all the animals in Hawkins Kennels, instead you took one to its early death and devoted time to a vampire.

You focused on your breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“Do you know your name?” you asked, needing the conversation as a distraction. Once telling him yours, you waited, but he shook his head. “We might need to give you one. Or, at least, a nickname.”

Between your limited knowledge of the roads of Hawkins and the fact he’d only ever seen it from the sky, it took a while to locate the place he intended to bury the dog. It wasn’t unpleasant driving empty streets with him though. You wondered if it should have been.

A partially overgrown road, unpaved and a threat to your car tires, was where he lead you. As natural landmarks began to come into focus, the moon’s rays the only light for miles, you felt the growing sense that you’d been to this place before.

When your car came to a dead end, you cut the engine. “Is it far?” you asked.

The man shook his head and waited for you to open his door.

He walked in front of you, flattening a path. Over the tall grass you could see you were coming to a wooded area. You smelt the oak before hitting the edge of the trees.

“Was this a witch?” the man asked, stepping out of your way.

Before you, constructed between two tall sycamore trees was a doorway of sorts. Hundreds of branches and sticks had been used to create a near-perfect circle. They were woven and stuck together to build an arch over and under. A gateway to the woods, not one that defied science, but still an oddity seemingly supernatural in origin.

“How… how do you know this place?”

He had no answer, so he stayed silent. It was just one of many parts of the flatlands, of Hawkins, that as a bat he watched over. He liked the forest doorway though, as much as he’d ever been able to like anything.

“I think… I think I’ve been here. I think I made this,” you said, voice dropping low.

“You cannot remember?”

It made no sense. You should have been able to remember. An unsettling feeling washed over you. Someone had been tinkering in the vampire’s mind, dislodging memories and letting them freefall. Surely, you didn’t have that in common.

When you didn’t answer his question, he asked another. “Is this a place… to honour?”

The dog.

“Yes. Yeah, it is.”

You took the lead, walking through the forest gate and looking back to see what would become of a vampire crossing a witch’s threshold. Nothing. Whatever magic had been there was long gone.

Not far from the gate, you stopped. The vampire understood, carefully placing the dog on the woodland floor. He stayed knelt on the ground and began to move sticks and brush out of the way. His movements gained momentum and soon he was moving faster than your eye could read. He was a blur, then he was standing next to a deep grave, the soil of which was dark under his fingernails.

You nodded when he looked to you for approval, then he laid the dog in the ground. While the vampire buried his victim, you gathered tokens from the nature that surrounded you.

Upon the grave, you laid butterfly weed and echinacea flowers, the apple, and obsidian.

“Hel, comforter in grief,

We ask you to receive this soul.

They lived pure, good, and true.

Hel, watcher of the dead,

We ask you to receive this soul.

Go peacefully now, no lament, no sorrow, nor rue.”

Standing side-by-side with a hexed vampire, you committed the dog to the earth not with a spell but a blessing, and grieved for the oath you’d broken.

“Go now,” he spoke. “I will come soon.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the vampire had gone from your side into the night. You waited in the car for fifteen minutes, the heater blasting stuffy air onto you. When he didn’t return, you drove home alone, only to find him perched on the roof of the trailer.

“That seems very dramatic,” you told him as he followed you inside. He was silent and all but invisible out there, still it seemed even an amnesic vampire couldn’t forget to have an operatic flair.

The trailer was warm and the artificial lighting soft. When you turned to him, you could see it on his face. The colour high on his cheekbones. The red on his lips. He’d found his way back to you, by way of more death.

…

1836

He watched you while you built the gate. Although he wouldn’t reveal himself, you could feel his curious gaze. It sent electricity buzzing through you, though you would burn at the stake before admitting that to yourself.

When he felt sure no townsfolk or coven members were joining you, he sauntered through the field, parting the long grass at will.

“Little witch. Why are you playing with sticks?”

You paid him no mind, which you knew would drive him crazy. He walked through the gate and around it, poking at the branches and making noises of discontent.

“If you aren’t going to help, you can go be a nuisance to your own kind,” you warned him, a stick pointed in his direction.

He swiftly grabbed the stick, tugging it hard, pulling you into him. It was the first physical content you’d made. The stick was forgotten as his cold hands wrapped around your upper arms, your chest pressed to his. He looked down at you, bared his sharp teeth in a smile.

“You don’t want me to go. Do you?” Your blown pupils were answer enough. He grinned again. “How can I help?” he asked, voice softening as he let you go and stepped away.

“I need… more…”

“More…? Sticks?”

You nodded dumbly.

He stayed close, within your sight, and moved at the speed of a human. You steadied yourself, regained your composure, and continued with your task.

The circular doorway would allow humans and witches to pass safely through the woods. It worked like a protection spell, once through it the individual would exist within a bubble, the bubble would take them through the dense and dark forest untouchable to vampires and foes.

On the other side of the woods, your mother had created one just like it, though she preferred to work in the daylight. Your penchant for twilight walks and midnight magic had, so far, gone unnoticed by the coven. Moonlight was a strong conductor, after all.

When the doorway was complete, holding strong against push and pull, you considered sending the vampire away. Somehow though, your magic felt stronger when he stood next to you. So, he stayed.

“Bloodline magic, far and wide,

Enchant this doorway so friends may hide.

Leaf and petal, wood and stone,

Protect our friends, return them home.”

You painted a circle of salt, sage, ground black cat bone, and mud around the doorway while reciting the spell. Then stood on the opposite side to the vampire.

“I dare you to cross through,” you said to him, a coy smile warning him of your witchy mischief.

“You wouldn’t be trying to kill me, would you, little witch?”

“If I were, it would not be with sticks and stones.”

He laughed, then considered you, his head cocking to the side. “If you want me to cross through, it will not be for free.” It was obvious he wouldn’t be able to walk through the circle, but the damage he would sustain was a mystery. What price would he put on shame or pain?

You huffed and crossed your arms. “What do you want? More stolen apples that you can’t eat?”

“A kiss,” he replied.

Your expression stayed playful; you held your nerve. He didn’t miss the way your breathing hitched though.

“For that, I want more,”

“Of course, you do,” he laughed, motioning for you to continue with a wave of the hand.

“Your name. A kiss will buy me your name.”

The vampire was quite pleased with himself for having held back that detail. He had predicted it would become useful. Witches and their silly little words and silly little names. It was all so important to them.

“You have yourself a deal.”

You clapped with joy, then bowed at the gate. “Please cross this witch’s threshold,”

“Oh, I do love it when you speak so filthy,” he quipped.

Tentatively, he approached the gate, waiting to feel his skin burn or something mystical and unholy. You watched amused at his sudden caution.

“Nothing will happen until you cross through,” you told him, trying to hurry him along.

He shot you a dark look that ought to have frightened you. Instead, you giggled.

The vampire took a useless breath in and jumped off the ground. He hit the circle like it was a brick wall, then was sent on a harsh rebound from the trees and into the tall grass.

You covered your face to conceal the laughter, waiting for him to reappear, ego bruised.

The wind whistled through the air and you thought perhaps you had pushed the vampire too far. Carefully, you followed his path from the gate out the woods and to where the grass began.

“Oh, vampire!” you called sweetly.

His voice came from all around you. All-encompassing whispers of, “Little witch, little witch, little witch!”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

The whispering stopped. You walked into the tall grass and found him lying on his back, casually lounging.

“Have you come to shower me in kisses?” he asked, fluttering his long eyelashes as you.

You knelt next to him, leaning over so your arms were either side of his head. “Give me your name,” you demanded, eye to eye with him.

“When I was born into this world, my mother named me Edward,” he said so casually, like it had never been a secret.

“Edward,” you repeated, a tone in your voice that made him smile.

“Are you disappointed? Would Molech suit better? Abaddon? Paimon? Or perhaps Lucifer Morningstar is what you expected?”

You looked down at him and saw through the shallow humour. “There’s a boy in the village. His name is Robert. It means bright star. His mother calls him Bobby and he answers when she calls,”

“Are you trying to distract me with a lesson?”

“Edward is of Old English origin. It means both fortune and guardianship. Which, in your case, does not fit quite right.” You didn’t reveal that his name was relatively new in human history, leading you to conclude he was not an Ancient vampire.

“Do your arms tire, Amabel? May I take this weight from you?” With vampire speed, he sat up, pulling you over him, your legs straddling his lap.

The game was fun. You held your arms out straight, letting them lean on his shoulders. “My assertion is that like Bobby, you will answer to a different name. I think I will call you… Eddie.”

You half expected him to argue. Instead, he smiled tenderly and snaked his arms around you. “You can call me whatever you want, little witch.”

Eddie listened to your heart, how it began to beat faster as you leaned down and ran the tip of your nose against his. His lips touched yours, his cool to your earthy warmth. You had kissed witches and humans and a few fae folk too. Nothing… absolutely nothing compared.

You rolled your hips against him, begging to be held tighter, instead he maintained the space between you, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

“What are we going to do?” he asked, in a moment of honest vulnerability.

Willing yourself not to cry, you left his sorrow unanswered and instead, leaned in to kiss him again.

End Note: Not me agonising over US English versus Australian. The Grimoire and timeline have been updated (links at top of post). Reblogs encourage me to keep writing! And, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Fic Taglist: @kaitebugg03 @paranoidmunson @munsonsbait @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl

#Mine #Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Vampire!Eddie #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Witch!Reader

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elvensemi · 4 months

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I'm Publishing Serial Webnovels

Hi guys! I'm @elvensemi, and some of you might know me from writing Dragon Age fanfic Keeping Secrets, or from writing weird gargoyle porn with @unpretty, or from that time I accidentally told a popular blog I write dragon porn on my main blog @solitarelee, or maybe from that one fanfic where the knight with a crossdressing kink fails at slaying a dragon so hard he gets seduced!

I've graduated college, and you know what that means! Student loans Free time! And so I'm finally pursuing my long term dream and publishing serial webnovels. The short version is: ebooks, I'm publishing ebooks via Patreon to see if it works because I don't want to deal with Amazon and marketplaces. Chuck Tingle does it, kind of!

I am writing such things as!

The Problem with Faeries An urban fantasy series for fans of Holly Black, featuring faeries and a librarian who has been cursed by a witch to turn into a tiny dog at night.

Everything at Once A coming of age fantasy novel set in a post-post-apocalyptic world full of many monsters and very few humans, with a nonbinary (genderfluid) protagonist and a rotating cast of gods and monsters.

The Demon Isles An adult romance series set in the same world as Everything at Once, this one's for the monsterf*ckers. Step into the shoes of an escaped slave who's been stranded in Fantasy Australia But All The Dangerous Things Can Be Seduced.

A Place Among the Stars An adult sci-fi political space opera that is also technically just solidly omegaverse sm*t plus space dragons. That's right, one of my friends dared me to write omegaverse and I overdid it and now they're aliens! All for you my friend.

Novelizations of works that previously existed only as RPs, such as Sanctuary and The Kingdom of Aeris.

AND SO MUCH MORE.

For $5 you get access to SFW material, and for $10 you get access to that and the things that are not SFW. You can view a full summary of the serials I'm working on at tinyurl.com/SemiSerials , or click the read more.

The Demon Isles (NSFW, Second Person)

Oceanside is a world full of elves and gods, monsters and magic. You, however, a human with no magic, no martial training, and a fear of... most things. Stranded on an unfamiliar island full of monsters, you must learn to harness humanity’s true power in order to survive. The issue with that is, as far as anyone can tell, humanity’s true powers are friendship and fuckability.

The Demon Isles is a erotic, second-person monsterfucking romp through the dangerous Demon Isles. The second person character is referred to by gender neutral terminology and they/them pronouns, physical appearance left ambiguous. Sex scenes have two versions with different sets of genitalia for the main character. Tags and content warnings are available for each chapter.

The Problem with Faeries (SFW, Third Person)

The problem with faeries is that we love them. We know all the sharp and cruel ways they twist us apart and we love them with a helpless, hopeless foolishness that never fades until it destroys us.

Bree is a human living in Valesport, a small town on the east coast of the United States that functions as a secret haven for the supernatural. As a cursed human, it’s one of the safer places for her... at least, safe from other humans. Everything else Valesport has to offer remains a threat. She’s already had her run-ins with werewolves, vampires, and whatever the hell Jean Cernunnos is... so, in retrospect, she was probably due to get into trouble with the Fae.

A fan favorite finally finding a venue of publication, The Problem with Faeries is a SFW urban fantasy with a side of romance perfect for fans of Holly Black. It is third person and follows the point of view of the protagonist, Bridget “Bree” Corey, as she finds herself tangled up trying to navigate faerie drama and her own personal feelings, neither of which she is particularly equipped to handle.

Everything at Once (SFW, First Person)

Babs wants everything the world has to offer... everything except what it’s actually prepared to hand over. As the eldest child of the ruling noble family--or what passes for it--of the only human village remaining old and large enough to still have a ruling noble family, even if just in name, Babs’s whole life has been laid out in front of them since the moment they were born. And they want none of it. However, after a bold escape from the village they knew all their life, they find themselves adrift in an unfriendly world of monsters and magic that seems much larger and much less friendly than they had hoped.

Everything at Once is a SFW fantasy novel set all over the world of Oceanside as our determined protagonist, Babs, attempts to explore all there is to explore and experience all there is to experience (it is possible they have not thought this through). Babs is a non-binary, gender fluid illusionist referred to varyingly by he, she, and they pronouns based on presentation. The story is a first person mixed POV exploring a wide range of characters and topics, but always staying focused on the many transformations of the main character as they learn what it is they want... and what it is to want.

Future Projects: Projects that are in development but do not have a set release date yet.

A Place Among the Stars [Working Title] (NSFW)

A Place Among the Stars is a NSFW erotic political space opera featuring Omegaverse style aliens and also space dragons, amongst other alien races. It features two protagonists: an exiled and excommunicated Saint who once led a cult that threatened the peace and stability of his homeworld, and a mid level government official presiding over the walled ghetto where the Ab’ed keep all foreign visitors and immigrants to their planet. They quickly find themselves entangled: politically, as the Saint once again threatens the stability of the world around him--in more ways than one--and sexually, as the tension between the two reaches a fever pitch.

Sanctuary (NSFW, Third Person)

Most people would consider Ren unlucky. After all, she’s been homeless since she was a child, has no living family she knows of, and she was recently kidnapped by sex traffickers and ripped away from the city she had been living in for years. But as far as Ren is concerned, she’s the epitome of good luck: not only has she survived all the things life has thrown at her, but she’s escaped said sex traffickers and even found shelter in an abandoned, boarded up cathedral. The fact that the cathedral, undisturbed for a century or more, is home to a guardian whose only experience with the world is violently murdering intruders, well... once again, whether that’s good or bad luck is based purely on interpretation.

Sanctuary is a NSFW urban fantasy erotic romance featuring a cis female protagonist and a male (as these things go) gargoyle love interest, as well as a mix of other romantic interests (primarily M/F with some F/F or NB/F thrown in). Tags and content warnings are available for each chapter. This fan-favorite returns in serialized, ebook form for easy reading. Follow Ren’s journey anew from mixed perspectives as she explores the streets of Valesport and finds something she’s never had before; a place to call home.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #webnovel #writing #authors of tumblr #fiction #web series #web serial

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juno-of-wonderland · 5 months

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¶Π MONSTER AU Π£

n/a:I changed the name from vampire au to monster au, thanks to the variety of things I added and i will write about au (in a slowly way).

Lords vampires

the red lord

…as? he should be the one who rules the rules perfectly… so why is he so attracted to a free spirit who goes against all the things he believed in most in his life?

....................🌹

the hybrid lord

food, that was the only thing you were supposed to be, no… the light that saved him from your own armor.

.................... 🦁

the lord of the coast

what an annoying, stupid and… interesting little thing you are to him, but he won't give up on putting you in one of his schemes… but he doesn't care if this dance continues for a while longer.

.................... 🐚

the sand lord

live without reins, live without chains, that's what he's been looking for all his life, the reason to become a vampire!… so there's no reason to continue by your side, but still…

.................... 🐍

Lord of Poisons

He is the beauty that did not lose to death, there is no one who lives long enough to rival his majesty… but perhaps a potato can reach his feet, if he allows it like the merciful being that he is.

.................... 🍎

Lord of shadows

Humans are a terrible race, always justifying their selfish actions with such false values, there is no reason to maintain a relationship with such a vile race… there is none, why did you disturb his reclusive life?

.................... ⌨️

Lord of Thorns

An ethereal, majestic and powerful being, coming from two pure bloodlines of vampires and blessed by dragons, yet, constantly, he seeks out a lovely being that is beneath him.

.................... 🐲

The other monsters

Cater - the photogenic patched monster Trey - cursed wizard

Ruggie - hyena werewolf Jack - white werewolf

Floyd + Jade - sea monsters

Epel - pixie

Ortho - living mannequin

Sebek - half human, half vampire Lilia - vampire

The humans

Rook - bounty hunter

Deuce - knight's apprentice Ace - adventurer

Silver - servant

Kalim - prince of scarabia

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parallel headcanon

01 , 02 , 03 , 04 , 05 , 06 , 07

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #au #alternate universe

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cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness · 3 months

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— “c’mon, i can tell you’re freezing. i won’t tell anyone that you like to be the little spoon, honest:” - For whoever you want to write. <3

I chose to write some fluff for Astarion/Karlach. There's some mild spoilers of Karlach's personal quest, Astarion's backstory and act 2, nothing main plot though. Hope you like it!

Read on Ao3

There were many disadvantages to having a tadpole living freely behind one's eye, namely the unavoidable doom of becoming a mind flayer and having Faerûn destroyed and overrun by an army of said mind flayers.

Astarion understood the fears that struck his companions, he really did, but they were overthrown by the unique benefits that his state of possession had given him. His whole anatomy had been transformed, the rules that he'd followed for two centuries completely turned upside down.

He wasn't under Cazador's beck and call anymore. No more living through the shadows, he could walk under the sun and embrace its warmth once again. He could walk inside any building he wanted without needed to be invited, he could swim in any body of water. He was still bloodthirsty, figuratively and literally, and along the bite scars on his neck and his pallid skintone, those were the only remaining signs of his vampirism.

Hence his lukewarm willfulness at getting rid of the tadpole. If only he had more time to seek someone knowledgeable in ithillids, perhaps they could find to cut contact of the tadpole to the hive and keep it in permanent stasis. Unfortunately time wasn't a luxury they could afford, especially not now that they were in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. If a shadow wasn't trying to get at them, it was some vile creatures ambushing them.

At least the curse wasn't an issue anymore for them, with the blessing of Selûne, but the real problem for Astarion was the overwhelming, bloody cold. He'd forgotten how his body used to be severely influenced by temperatures, and it’d been fine on the Coast with its warm sunny days and temperate nights. But here in these lands, it felt like the chill seeped down to his bones.

It’d been days of this, to the point he couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been cold. It wasn’t so bad when they were walking around and getting into everyone’s business, but it was hard to dismiss when they were at camp and resting. The campfire helped somewhat, but he feared that if he sat any closer he’d been sitting in it, and he didn’t want the others to know his predicament.

He trusted them somewhat, but not enough to disclose his discomfort. He wasn’t the only one afflicted by the weather, seeing as Gale was using a spell to keep himself warm and cosy. He hadn’t even offered it to anyone, the prick. Not that Astarion would’ve accepted, mind you, but it appeared wizard schools taught no manners.

He tightened his hold on his thin blanket and sighed. At least everyone were getting ready for sleep. Perhaps he’d find some comfort in his bedroll, if not in meditation. The cold was reminded him of when he’d been trapped in a tomb for a year as punishment. That was why he was reacting so badly to it, he was realising.

“Hey soldier,” Karlach said, joining him by the fire. She probably was immune to the cold, with her engine heart running so hot. They’d visited Dammon to upgrade it a second time, where Astarion had been in earshot when he told her it was only a temporary solution.

“Evening, darling.” Astarion was massaging his stiff hands, not managing to improve their state much.

“I know you’re normally pale, but not this blue pale. Are you feeling alright?”

Astarion hesitated. Beside Wyll, she was the most trustworthy of the companions. She was loyal to a fault, despite being betrayed in the past. He wasn’t sure whether to call it naivete or resilience. “I’m just cold. The curse on these lands, its chill seeps through our blessing it seems.”

Karlach made a sound and approached him. “You should’ve told me, I run almost too hot for this plane after all. Unless you don’t trust that I wouldn’t hurt you, which I understand.”

Astarion shook his head at that. “Would it be too much to say it’s not you, it’s me?” They were only in close proximity and already he could her warmth, the glow of her heart pulsing steadily through her ribcage. It was a beautiful sight, if ignoring the fact it was killing her.

She crouched in front of him and extended her large hands. She wasn’t forcing herself on him, instead letting him choose. He appreciated that.

He slid his hands into hers. They were almost too hot to bear and his body instinctively flinched at the change in temperature, but he held on and soon it felt like his hands were dipped in a hot bath. So good and relieving.

“By the hells, Astarion, you’re freezing,” Karlach said, gripping him before letting go. Astarion almost whined in displeasure. He watched her retrieve her bedroll and spread it beside Astarion’s.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not letting you freeze another night. Help me with this.”

Together they spread the two bedrolls like a makeshift bed so they could both fit underneath. Karlach was the first to slip into it.

“Come on. I won’t tell anyone that you like to be the little spoon, honest.”

Astarion laughed and joined her. It was a tight fit, but Karlach didn’t seem to want space between them. She pulled him against her with a strong arm, hugging him. It felt like his limbs were melting from ice blocks and he could finally have control of his body again.

He liked that she smelled of ashes and fresh air, that her skin was scarred and tough when he rested his hand against her bare back. He’d been fond of her pretty eyes and easy smile for a while but hadn’t acted on it with her whole ‘my skin will burn you’ thing before, but tucked against Karlach, the warmth he felt wasn’t just physical. He felt comfortable and safe.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, soldier.”

#astarion #karlach #astarion x karlach #hellspawn #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #karlach x astarion #fireblood #bloodengine #i've seen so many names for the pairing and i have no clue which one we're supposed to use #my writing #thanks for the prompt bby!

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changeling-fae · 2 months

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Gave my unicorn Tav, Iluatria (Lua for short), an update. I'm a The Last Unicorn hoe.

Her lore:

Lua was a unicorn who lived on the coast before an old dying wizard made a deal with a sea hag to capture her so he could force her into healing him and giving him more life.

He went to the local sea hag and had her help him capture and transform Lua (wild unicorns are notoriously difficult to capture otherwise). It worked obviously, but he betrayed the hag and killed her (who cursed him to be killed by his own folly soon enough, aka Lua).

He basically had her captured Calliope style in the Sandman, trying to persuade/intimidate/force her to give him power but she refused because it’s not something that can be taken. He gets drunk one night and tries to take it by force (by sawing her horn off which would kill her) and she instead impales him with her horn.

She then returns to where her sisters and brothers are like “hey, help me turn back” but then they said they can’t and that’s when Selûne is like “actually I’m going to need you to investigate Moonrise/the Absolute cult that’s forming and then I can turn you back”, so then Lua is forced to investigate which is then when she gets captured and tadpoled.

Since the gods were already sending their clerics and agents to check out what’s happening, Selûne would be like “actually this works in our favor for a bit” and is taking advantage of the situation.

I imagine Lua got nerfed a bit when she was transformed, then the tadpole nerfed her the rest of the way.

She knows she’s a unicorn (horn makes it obvious) but her memories of her life as a unicorn are starting to fade and the more connections she makes in her new form, the more she loses her old self. I’m using it as a form of meta too, since Tav is such a blank slate and feels like they didn’t exist before the events of the game, this is my meta of her literally being a new person.

She’s old, like older than Raphael old, but since I’m stealing so much from TLU, to quote Prince Lir, “she has a newness”.

She was a unicorn under the service of Selûne specifically, and she helped guide sailors and lost souls home along the coast. Keeping with the sea and navigation themes.

She’s not only trying to remove the tadpole but also trying to return to form before she “loses herself” forever. But of course she makes connections and once she and Astarion fall for each other, it’s when she has to make a decision. His spawn route is him deciding to try living again with his old self dead and buried, and with her it’ll be deciding to let her old self die as well.

She doesn't get on with Gale at first because she thinks wizards are selfish and power hungry but over time they become friends and they have interesting discussions around magic.

Right now her goal is “yes, I want to go back, this form is unnatural and torture” but she’ll start to develop an independent sense of self that starts to overtake her old self.

She’ll always have natural grace and beauty, but that ethereal otherworldliness will disappear over time.

While she's in this form she can feel her immortality and old self fade and it horrifies her but once she falls in love with Astarion she eventually comes to accept her new life. My end goal is at the end of the game, she chooses to use what's left of her powerful unicorn healing magic to cure Astarion of his vampirism. Her horn disappears and she's made fully mortal (as an elf) and they live their new lives together.

It's a cheesy idea but Selûne takes their souls (since Corellon won’t have him), and then they get reincarnated as unicorns. They’re essentially new people again, the way reborn souls are, but they find each other again and mate for life once more. And now he gets to be a unicorn; wild beauty, grace, and never again tamed too.

It’s super romantic and cheesy but sometimes I be a sucker for that.

And I do like the idea that Astarion, (who he himself and most people see as used, dirty, and corrupted), is actually seen as worthy enough and loved by a being in universe as pure as they come. And there’s an innocence in his passion for life that would attract her.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion #oc: iluatria #she's unfortunately probably going to be one of my few tav's who kills raphael rip

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tadpoleatemybrain · 2 months

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How In the Hells?

Astarion x gender-neutral Generi-Tav (I don't make good Tavs T_T)

Words: 1k-1.5k

Tw: pregnancy, mentions of abortion

"What?" The question left Astarion’s lips before he could even attempt to stop himself. Confusion and disbelief were transparent in his expression. Voice soft and questioning. Not the reaction anyone would have anticipated from someone who had just been told he was about to become a father. The doctor even seemed a bit surprised. Reactions to this particular revelation varied wildly, but they usually leaned more towards happiness or unhappiness, not disbelief.

"You're sure?" Tav questioned, seeming equally doubtful.

"Yes, the tests were all positive. You’re pregnant." The doctor confirmed, growing a bit weary. Why was a couple with this configuration confused that pregnancy had occurred? Of course, said couple hadn’t been…entirely truthful. As they couldn’t know everyone’s general opinion on vampires it had been in their best interest to conceal that little detail. Mostly just covering the neck holes. Hoping the red eyes and paleness could be explained away.

"Yay, darling, we're so excited, aren't we?" Astarion said with feigned excitement, an attempt to gloss over his first reaction. A smile painted on as he took Tav's hand. Yet, both looked into each other's eyes bewildered.

This wasn't a possibility they had ever considered and therefore taken no steps to prevent...obviously. They had assumed one partner being undead had removed that potential. Naturally throwing caution to the wind during what most would have considered their honeymoon.

What a honeymoon it had been too. Traveling the coast, hunting monsters, resting in each other's arms every night. Just the two of them. Truly everything the couple could have hoped for and then some. It had only been cut short by Tav's sudden fatigue and consistent nausea. Quickly pivoting to getting to the closest settlement and seeking out whatever healer they had available. Fortunately, the first village they found had a doctor.

The pair listened to the doctor inform them of what to expect, what steps to take, and when they should come back for checkups. Yet, the words weren't quite sticking. How could they when the doctor was speaking on a normal pregnancy and nothing about this was normal. They didn’t dare to bring this up to the doctor either, doubting that he would have any experience on this topic.

When the two were finally alone again, the act dropped. Able to fully expose their confusion and panic.

The two lines were spoken simultaneously.

"How in the hells am I pregnant?!"

"How in the hells are you pregnant?!"

It was almost a relief for the two to share the sentiment. Able to trust each other enough not to minimize their reactions. However, their opinions on the matter couldn’t be any more different. One was filled with a sense of hope and joy and the other could only feel dread.

“This is…this is…wow. Unexpected definitely. Gods, what are we going to do?” Tav asked.

"Well, obviously, we need to get rid of it. The sooner, the better." Astarion stated. Firmly believing that nothing good could come of this. That this had to be some sort of fluke or worse some sort of curse. What would cause him to think any other way?

So many questions filled his mind. Who did one even call for that? How did that procedure even work in this scenario? Could it? Where would they have to go? If anyone knew this information it certainly couldn't be common. Hells Astarion didn’t even know a word for this whatever this thing inside of Tav was. Could it even be called a baby?

"What?" Tav asked as if the wind had been knocked out of them. This miraculous gift had been given to them, and he didn't want it? Shouldn't he be overjoyed? An opportunity to have a family together. Something they had thought they had to abandon. Yet here it was.

"You've already had one parasite inside you, you want another?"

"A parasite?! It's a child! Our child!" Tav shouted. Clearly pissed at the comparison. A baby wasn’t a mind-flayer tadpole.

“We have to assume it's at least partially a vampire and what do vampires need? Blood. Where is the blood Tav? Inside you. Where is the baby? Also inside you! Do you not see the problem?!”

"I've sustained you, haven't I?! I think I can handle another!" They retorted.

"That’s different. I have consciousness. I have control. I want to protect you. That-" He pointed to their stomach.

"doesn't. All it wants to do is live and it will, even at your expense. Gods, why is this even an argument?!" The vampire replied exasperated. Running his hand through his hair. Why was he so much more concerned about the ramifications of this than Tav was? It was their life that was in jeopardy. They sunk into a chair. It would be a lie to say that they weren’t concerned at all. His points were valid, but there was a counterpoint to be made.

“What if it’s not even a vampire at all? What if that can’t be passed down? It could be a half-elf.” What if the elf part was all that could be passed on? If that was the case then the largest part of his concerns went out the window. A half-elf pregnancy wasn’t uncommon. Surely something any doctor could handle.

“That feels incredibly optimistic. Do forgive me for not sharing in it, but we have to think in the worst case.” Given how most things in his life had gone it wasn’t odd for him to believe that things would continue to go wrong. Optimism was still quite new to the vampire.

"Astarion, we can figure this out. One way or the other. After everything we've been through I think we can handle a baby. What if…what if we never have another chance?" Tav looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"We've been fine without it and we already planned a life without it. Why is that suddenly ch-" Tav cut him off.

"Because we didn't think we could, but now we can. That has changed everything." They stood up and took his hand.

"You're set on this aren't you?" He sighed as his thumb rubbed over the back of their hand.

"Please, can we at least try? If-if it gets bad we’ll get help.” There were a few people they could turn to. How helpful they would be in this particular instance…well that would remain to be seen. Of course, they were going to look into this as much as possible before they decided to get anyone else involved. There were dozens of libraries on the coast including Candlekeep, surely at least one of them would have something regarding this. However, getting into Candlekeep was easier said than done.

“Alright, but if this goes terribly I won’t hesitate. I just got you Tav, and I won’t be losing you so soon. I can’t…” Tav heard the break in his voice and pulled him into a hug.

“I think you’re worrying too much. We just need to change some plans, do a little research and everything will be fine.” They said reassuringly.

“This does change all of our plans doesn’t it?” They couldn’t continue to travel and slay monsters with a little one in tow. Now they would have to consider settling down, getting steady jobs, and putting down roots. All things they had intended to do at some point, but now so much sooner than before and with one other to account for.

“Mhmm, but we’ve always been pretty good at adjusting plans.” Tav looked up at him with a soft smile.

“A rogue is nothing if not adaptable.” Astarion agreed.

#dadstarion #bg3 fan fic #bg3 fanfiction #throws this.#in the tag and runs.#comments feedback.#and questions encouraged.#tw pregnancy #tw mention of abortion #unsure if tagged properly.#please inform if wrong.

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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

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Astarion Dhampir Daughter Headcanon P.4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

She always dresses like "this woman who has buried three husbands and is ready to bury the fourth one."

When she was a kid, Astarion would sew her dresses - they were supposed to be both practical and pretty, with a lot of hidden pockets.

Even though a few centuries old, Alethaine still carries her father's dagger in her boot (the one he gave her when she was 19).

She never allowed anyone to touch her silver waist-length hair.

Only Tav was allowed to brush and braid them.

When Tav died, Alethaine cut the hair short in grief.

Regretting it immediately since elven hair takes centuries to grow back.

They grew back faster than Alethaine expected, but to her own dislike, they weren't silver anymore. They were raven black, more suited for a dhampir.

For a decade, she lived in Dhampir Freehold, the city founded by the oldest of the Underdark spawns' children.

Unluckily, dhampirs are solitary creatures, and the history of the Freehold ended in worshipping abyssal demons and bloodshed.

Alethaine, having much better intuition and being a skilled necromancer, had managed to escape before things went south.

She has a living beating heart, but undead blood runs in her veins.

The blood which enables immunity to vampirism because no vampire would be able to feed on dhampirs.

Alethaine's blood smells like sagebrush.

Druidic protection circles and the divine light hurt her.

Along with the sun.

Of course, she can walk in the sunlight, but it makes her head hurt.

She is fluent in Abyssal but sort of didn't expect Abyss to answer back.

Blood is like a drug for dhampirs; it makes them strong but erases their humanity. Alethaine constantly fights the temptation to drink it.

Astarion eventually settled at the sea coast, managing his own piracy empire and being this "man in shadows" no one knows, but everyone fears.

He mostly did this to make sure Alethaine knew where to find him if she desperately needed him.

Because his "little princess" definitely would need her dad's help from time to time.

Despite being a High Elf, Alethaine believed she had no soul and would not be able to reincarnate.

To her own surprise, she met her thiramin, elven soulmate, her star-crossed love.

Erlen, the wood elf prince.

Who didn't expect to see the long-desired light in the eyes of gods damn dhampir.

It's a sin to separate thiramins, but his family decided better to do this than allow "foul vampiric blood" to poison their kin.

They put a spell on Erlen and locked him away and also casted a dozen protection spells, preventing Alethaine from rescuing him.

Well, too bad they weren't afraid to piss Alethaine Ancunin.

Because now they pissed her father.

Who is absolutely heartbroken seeing his daughter exhausted and desperate, begging him to save her love

Crying and cursing in his hands.

And Astarion has a pirate fleet who wouldn't mind whooping some elven asses.

Upon rescuing Elren, Astarion is suspicious of this wood elf he had never seen before.

What if he doesn't treat his daughter accordingly?

Only to realize that if Alethaine was his "princess," she would be the queen to her future husband.

"Just don't hesitate to ask me for help. I will gladly kill a couple self-confident elves for you two."

Alethaine called her firstborn daughter Tav.

Of course, it's a baby name and she will change it to a more appropriate one in a century, but for now, there is little Tav growing among the elves.

And Alethaine hopes she will be at least half as good a "monster" parent for her daughter as Astarion was for her.

#astarion headcanon #bg3 astarion #astarion being a dad #astarion's daughter alethaine #astarion has a daughter in my headcanon cause why not its mine #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanons #astarion romance #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #alethaine ancunin #dadstarion #spacebarbarian headcanon #meet the dhampirs #dhampirs of the sword's coast #dnd

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 2 months

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Hunger

I posted this a bit ago, but I think I accidentally deleted it while cleaning up my blog. So I edited it a bit and thought I should post it again. I think it's a neat look at Majexatli and the fact they're a Malarite.

CW: Hunting, Violence, Everything you'd imagine would come with worship of Malar (a Chaotic Evil deity of hunting, bloodlust, bestial violence)

Majexatli wondered, sometimes, what drew them to the hunt.

It wasn’t something they took the time to consider before the Nautiloid, when they prowled the Sword Coast in wildshape. Back then they rationalized it; it was much easier to hunt and eat in wildshape than to gather ingredients and make camp and cook something. Having most of their meals be bloody and raw made the ones they had outside of wildshape that much more special.

Now, though? They spent their days as a person, every night there was a camp with plenty of rations, there was wine and cooked meats and soups and bread enough for everyone. There were traders who could sell them any array of foods, there were greens and mushrooms a plenty along the road, abandoned campsites and kitchens with all sorts of meats and produce.

Majexatli didn’t need to hunt, every night they could curl up by a fire with a full belly.

So what drew them to the hunt? Why did they still feel a hunger clawing at them? A restlessness in their own skin?

Sometimes at night, Majexatli watched Astarion hunt while prowling in the shadows and lurking in trees. He was effective enough but clumsy. As much as he has grown better at stealth, at ambushing enemies with his bow or dagger, he was different when he had just his teeth, when his mind was preoccupied with hunger. It was quick and inelegant, never drawn out, he picked whatever animal he could find, it didn’t matter what it was so long as they had blood.

It seemed wasteful.

Sometimes Majexatli entertained the thought of teaching him how to hunt properly, the art of drawing it out. Maybe they could have him hunt them, make him prove himself before spilling their blood. Never were his eyes more present and alive than when their blood was on his tongue.

They could teach him the rules of the hunt.

They shouldn’t, they knew, shouldn’t drag him down with them. They were supposed to be the kind and wise druid coaxing him back from the edge, rather than echoing the dark whispers in their mind and showing him the shards of divinity that could be in everything if you tore into the flesh enough, how if you swallowed holiness bloodied and raw enough it could fix you from the inside.

But Astarion was a vampire, undead, he needed blood to live. He had a reason for his bloodshed, he would starve without it. What reason did Majexatli have?

If their hunt was just a supplication, a prayer, an offering, then why did they hunger?

Was devotion making them a monster, or was their piety a justification for the monster they already were?

If they weren’t a monster, if they were truly good, then Majexatli would have been at camp, basking in the victory of the Shadow Curse being lifted, finding what pleasure could be found in the brief moments before they chased the Elder Brain to Baldur’s Gate.

Kethric Thorm was dead, the Nightsong freed, Thaniel made whole again, Gale alive, Wyll would be free of his contract soon, Jaheira and Minthara had joined their camp. There was a veritable feast around the campfire, endless companionship, if they wanted they could be pulling someone away to somewhere private and chasing whatever pleasure they could.

Instead, they were in the forest, hidden in the shadows, following a trail of blood through the trees, the buzzing euphoria of the hunt dulling the hunger that had dug its claws into them.

Slaying the young is forbidden.

The brown bear in their sights was full-grown, only slightly larger than Majexatli’s current form, the Dire Wolf they hadn’t let out since the gnolls on the Risen Road. In any other form, it would have been stupid, reckless to take on a bear. It might still be, but they wanted a challenge, wanted to impress.

A bear claw was one of Malar’s holy symbols.

Make your kills long and bloody.

They jumped from the shadows, snapping at the bear’s hind leg, making sure to bite and tear its flesh enough for the bear's blood to spill on the grass below. They let the bear get a swipe on them, feigned a pained yelp as it spilled their blood in turn, ran off into the trees as though afraid and wounded.

Oh, Majexatli was disappointed when the bear didn’t follow, when it didn’t try to hunt them down in turn, but they could adapt.

Keeping to the shadows, every so often they purposefully stepped on a twig, just to watch the bear stop in tense silence, sniff the air. In that tense silence, they would dash out, pounce and bite and then run off again before the bear could truly react.

Taste the blood of those you slay and never kill from a distance.

Majexatli shouldn’t have enjoyed it, they knew, but the only thought in their mind was blood. With every snap of their teeth, they relished in the sharp, warm rush of blood in their mouth, as they stalked they lapped at their muzzle and the blood soaking their fur. The promise of more blood, of tearing open flesh, of devouring raw and bloody viscera was intoxicating.

They followed the trail of blood through the trees, stalking, tracking, thrilling at the adrenaline in their veins that kept them warm and warded off the cold breeze. Majexatli let the blood lead them to the edge of a clearing, down to the river’s edge.

The bear was wounded, patches of its fur stained red and glistening in the moonlight. The wounds weren’t grave, bites and claw marks purposefully shallow, just enough to bleed, to distract it, to wear it down. There in the open, there were no twigs or dried foliage to alert the bear to their presence as it licked its wounds on the river bank.

Crouching in the grass, Majexatli almost felt at home, they could almost forget about the Elder Brain and the Nautiloid.

They let out a growl as they lunged, managing to knock the bear over as their jaw clamped down on the juncture of its neck, heart jumping and blood singing as they held it there, felt the bear thrash beneath them claws swiping at them blindly, weakly.

And then Majexatli’s blood turned to ice as they felt the fur beneath their teeth fade, muscles reshape and suddenly their teeth were sinking into a person’s flesh, so much more fragile, so easy for the flesh to give.

The rush of blood in their mouth filled them with terror. They should have released immediately, should have let go of the shoulder as soon as they felt the change, as soon as they heard a cry of pain in a voice so familiar. They should have relaxed their jaw—but why? Did they want to let go and drop wildshape? Or did they want to let go so they could adjust their bite, shift their teeth from shoulder to neck, find the jugular and sink their teeth in—

A strong hand found the scruff of their neck somehow, even as now this form dwarfed the man beneath them. Blunt fingers dug into their fur, into the flesh and muscle there, more gentle than he had any right to be.

“Majexatli,”

They could feel the vibrations of his chest beneath their teeth, Halsin’s voice slightly strained, yet firm and with none of the hatred Majexatli deserved.

Majexatli’s jaw relaxed, teeth pulling out of flesh and they knew blood was spilling from the wounds. They hadn’t felt any bones snap beneath their teeth, yet their mind raced with images of what they would see when they pulled away, visions of Halsin with his throat torn open, bleeding out before they could do anything.

A memory surfaced, unbidden, so visceral even 20 years later, how quickly they had bled out, how they had spent those few seconds begging for Silvanus to save them, calling up every prayer they had memorized, every supplication and offering they had given. They had spent every breath striving for the balance Silvanus wanted and he had simply watched their lungs be torn from their chest, as if their slaughter was simply an accepted collateral in his divine plan.

“Majexatli,”

There was a hand on their face, and it took everything in Majexatli not to snarl and snap at the gentleness.

They couldn’t bring themselves to meet his eyes, instead staring at his shoulder, the tears in his tunic, the bloodstains, the bite marks still lazily oozing blood. He must have cast something, a healing spell to stem the worst of the bleeding and coax the shallowest wounds closed.

“It’s nothing serious,” His voice was so genuine, “I’ve had much worse, it’s alright. We’ve all had moments where we lose ourselves to the beast,”

Halsin let out a slight laugh, but Majexatli could hear a slight pain, the way it was slightly forced, as though he was trying and failing to ignore the Dire Wolf that stood over him. He knew, he had to know that Majexatli could snap his neck with their teeth, that his blood lingered in their mouth. Majexatli wanted to be horrified, disgusted, and they were, but they also wanted to lick their lips and savor the taste.

“Are you alright?”

They finally met his eyes and recoiled, from the concern in his face, from the cautious but naïve trust. He should be running or shifting back to a bear that could snap them in half, they would deserve it.

Majexatli had the upper hand, though, they still had their teeth and claws and as much as the thought of Halsin’s blood on their tongue sickened them, as much as they wanted it to taste foul, the taste was divine. It always was.

They could taste more of it. All they had to do was bite again, all they had to do was let go. Their quarry was beneath them, unarmed, unarmored, the end of the hunt, of their hunger was within reach.

Suffer no druid to live, for they believe not in survival of the strong, but in a weak-minded balance.

Majexatli ran.

Darting off into the trees, they ignored Halsin’s voice calling after them, blindly zigzagging through the forest as if they were trying to shake someone off their tail. But the beast they were trying to outrun was the one wearing their skin.

They crashed out of wildshape, into the dirt hard enough to skin their knees, their palms, though they could hardly tell their own blood apart from Halsin’s. Curled up on the ground there, they watched as the moonlight filtering through the trees slowly faded and was replaced by sunrise.

If your prey escapes, they have earned their freedom and whatever boon seems fit.

Majexatli didn’t know if there was anything they could give that would make up for what they did. But they weren’t sure if Halsin was the prey or if they were.

#eldritch it speaks #oc: majexatli #salam plays bg3 #smth about holiness seems to always end up in my writing #holiness metastasized (that poem)#holiness bloodied and raw (here)#í think divinity is not confined to heaven. it permeates everything.#anyways thats besides the point!#this is probably the only time Majexatli has technically stopped a hunt

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