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starryjuicebox · 1 month

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Pull My Strings

Pairing: (Soft) Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader Word Count: 2.1k Warning: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Creampie. Fluff and smut.

Summary: A special day in your life with Astarion.

Another day in paradise—the sun kisses your pale skin as it greets the world in a dazzling hello. Beside you, your lover stirs, opening a bleary crimson eye. “Good morning, darling.”

You run a hand through his soft white curls, laughing a little. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

While Astarion didn’t really “sleep”, over the many years you had been together, he seemed to have grown more relaxed in his trances with you by his side.

Unlike you, he was still very much not a morning person; evidenced by his burrowing back underneath the cozy covers of your shared bed. You cuddle up to him, frigid skin absorbing the warmth from his body. Long since used to this behavior (though he had nearly jumped out of his own skin the first time you snuggled after his ascension), he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on the top of your head.

“It’s a special day today,” you tell him excitedly.

He merely hums in response, stroking your hair. “Is that so? And what’s so special about today?”

The nerve! How could he have forgotten? You stare at him, mouth open, before turning away. The two of you had lived together for so long, why had he forgotten this year? Throughout the millennia that you and Astarion had lived in Baldur’s Gate, you had witnessed the rapid advancement of technology and society. The world around you changed so much, but every year on this day, he always had something special planned just for you.

Astarion’s hands come to rest on your hips, before pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard outline of his length pressing into your clothed core. “My love, what’s gotten you so upset?” Astarion croons into your ear, grinding against you.

Your lips curve downward into a pout. “I’m struggling to come up with an idea for my next book. I was supposed to announce the summary today.”

That was only a half-truth. While inspiration did elude you for the time being, your lover’s ignorance was a far greater crime. You celebrated your birthday together every year, and yet Astarion seemed to have completely forgotten this time!

“We could come up with some…ideas together,” his voice drips with honey as he pinches one of your nipples through the fabric of your nightgown.

Frowning, you push his hands away and sit up. If he wasn’t going to celebrate your birthday with you, at least you could get some work done. That would mean spending your day productively, even if your stupid vampire lord husband had forgotten.

Grabbing your tablet off the nightstand, you open a document and begin typing out some potential story threads in an impromptu brainstorming session. Sex pollen, maybe? Ugh, no. That one had already been done plenty of times. Beach sex? No thanks, just thinking about sand in your vagina made you cringe.

“That’s a ‘big ass’ iPad, my dark consort,” Astarion says, interrupting your thoughts and looking over your shoulder to see what you’re doing. Though his speech and mannerisms did not change no matter how much time passed, you did try to do your part in teaching him the more…updated lingo.

You stifle your laughter. “A present from you, two years ago.”

A birthday present to be more precise.

Despite your hint, Astarion the Ascendant Ignoramus does not seem to get it, and merely hums.

You stare at the document. The mostly blank page stares back at you.

“Fuck it,” you grumble, powering off the device. You couldn’t just will good ideas into existence, so you might as well get a start on the day.

Heading over to the massive walk-in closet, you gasp as a beautiful ensemble greets you. A red and black corset dress paired with a puff-sleeved bolero jacket hangs neatly in front of the mirror. Both pieces are exactly your size, and have clearly been designed with you in mind. Matching platform boots with a silver bat accessory sit beside the outfit, and you scratch your head. How long has this been here? You call out over your shoulder, “Hey, when did you get this for me? I love it!”

“Anything for you, my darling,” comes his cool response. Your question remains unanswered.

“Well…thank you.” This was certainly a surprise, but since he hadn’t even mentioned your birthday, it surely was a fluke. Astarion often surprised you with random presents anyway. Once upon a time, the gifts had been difficult for you to accept, but over the years, Astarion had worn you down. Spoiling you was very much one of his love languages. There were never any strings attached, and no expectation of something in return.

You try on the outfit, and it seems to have been tailored exactly for you. A very tiny ‘A.A.’ is stitched onto the inside, and warmth floods your heart. Astarion hadn’t just ordered the clothing for you; he’d made it. That made the present all the more special.

When you walk over to the vanity, a brand new eyeshadow palette immediately catches your eye. Suspicion floods your mind. What is going on? The brand is one of your very favorites. Most of the palette consists of beautiful neutral colors that match most of the clothing you own, but there were also gorgeous duochrome shades as well.

“Sublime, just like you, darling.”

You whirl around to see Astarion leaning against the wall with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What’s the occasion?” Did you dare to hope that he had remembered?

“There has to be a special reason to give my treasure gifts she deserves?”

The disappointed sigh in your throat is swallowed down. It wouldn’t be right to seem ungrateful, after all; these were really thoughtful presents. “Thank you.”

Carefully fixing your makeup (and definitely indulging in the brand new palette), you turn to select your favorite perfume and gasp softly. An unfamiliar heart-shaped pink glass bottle only labeled “Little Love” grabs your attention. A soft voice whispers in your ear, “smeared lipstick and warm, flushed skin—vanilla, orris root, violet, sugar, cetalox, skin musk, and safraleine. Scents that remind me of you, my love. Go on, give it a try.”

Spraying some on your wrist, you delicately sniff the concoction. “Oh!” It smells exactly as Astarion had described. You love it.

“I made it; I really did miss my calling as a perfumer,” he drawls, examining his nails.

“...Thank you.” You didn’t want to inflate his already massive ego any more, but these presents were really nice. It was also pretty strange that they appeared all at once. Did you just miss them before? That wouldn’t be possible, right?

Dabbing the perfume on your other wrist, you carefully close the bottle and stand up to fix some breakfast.

“No dry oats for you today, darling. I already have something just for you.”

How had he reached the kitchen ahead of you? Astarion stands there, holding a massive cake, topped with a single candle. Three tiers of rainbow-flecked vanilla birthday cake, layers of creamy frosting and crunchy crumbs, each topped with rainbow sprinkles. It is absolutely ridiculous to just have between the two of you. But it’s your favorite, and you know he ordered it just for you.

“Happy Birthday, my dear.”

Your hands fly to your mouth. The silly man was just pretending he had forgotten all about your birthday this whole time?

While you are busy contemplating how to both smack and kiss him at the time, he pulls you into his arms and sits down, placing you onto his lap.

“Open your mouth, little love.”

Astarion cuts a slice of cake for you and feeds it to you. It tastes like a little piece of heaven.

“...I thought you’d forgotten,” you admit, after swallowing the bite of cake.

“Oh, you wound me!” He places a hand on his chest theatrically. “I would never forget such an important day.”

You smile at him. Other than his nonchalant behavior earlier today (which had clearly been just to tease you), he was right; he had never forgotten any of your birthdays.

After you finish the slice of cake, he places the rest of it into the refrigerator. “Now, pet, let’s play a little game.”

“Oh? What game?”

Over the course of the millenia you had been with him, there were all sorts of little games and activities you two had to keep things fresh and interesting.

“You’ll try to chase me, and if you catch me…I’ll give you another present.”

You nod. “It’s on, then.”

This would be a breeze for you; you had always been faster than him to begin with.

His lithe form shifts into one of a small black bat.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You cry out, as Bat-starion takes off flying back towards the bedroom. Keeping up is a walk in the park for you, but he stays just out of your reach. “Hey!!!”

Pouting at him, you take a running leap and grab the bat with both hands, landing perfectly on your feet.

“Gotcha.”

Soft fur ripples back into warm flesh as Astarion returns to his regular form. “Well done, my dear. As promised…another present.” A pink candy is pressed against your lips, and you open them to taste the sweet and tangy flavor of berry lemonade… your favorite!

Eyes widening, you look at him.

“I did order several tubes of these, but I hid them around the palace. You’ll have to go find them yourself later. Now, there is one last present for you.”

“What is it?”

You had already gotten a new outfit, makeup, perfume, cake, and candy. What else could Astarion have possibly gotten you?

“Me.”

Stepping away from you with crimson eyes glinting, his pale fingers slowly unbutton his jacket. You don’t need to breathe, but find yourself holding your breath anyway.

His jacket becoming a red and black silken heap on the carpet, Astarion then begins removing his shirt. Inch by inch, the smooth, pale chest you are all too familiar with is revealed to you.

The dress pants are next. Astarion leisurely unbuckles his belt, before sliding the trousers down his perfect legs.

“Precious thing; you always stare so eagerly,” he teases you with another smirk, palming his thick length through the fabric of his underwear.

“Well, you are putting on quite the show. Now, are you going to give me my present, or do I have to take it myself?”

He chuckles. “My, my. So impatient.”

You cross the room to rest your forehead against his, before pressing your lips together. Sliding his hands into your hair, he deepens the kiss, before pulling away and gently nipping your bottom lip. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Well, it’s my birthday. And I want good things without waiting.”

Closing the distance between you once more, you claim his lips in another kiss.

The floor beneath you falls away as you are swept into his arms. “Oh, I can refuse you nothing.”

He tosses you gently onto the soft bed. Astarion may be well-versed in keeping a cool and collected facade, but you’ve been his lover for over a thousand years. The man is just as eager as you are.

Crawling atop you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss, he palms your breast through your clothing. You can feel your nipples stiffening, eager for his warm touch. Astarion kisses down your throat and chest, unfastening the corset along the way.

He gently nips at your hardened peak with his teeth, before latching on and sucking hard. You moan, running your fingers through his soft hair as he moves onto the other nipple.

“Take me now,” you pant at him. He’s already made you wait for so long.

“As you wish.” Moving back up to meet your lips with his again, deft fingers push your lacy panties aside. Astarion slides into you with one smooth, confident thrust.

You groan in unison as he sets a punishing pace, likely in part caused by your impatience. Your walls flutter around his thick cock as he snaps his hips into you. Locking your ankles behind his hips, your nails dig into his back. Each thrust brings a familiar stretch, and you love every second of it. Your bodies slot together like perfect pieces of a puzzle, born from so many years of lovemaking. He knows your body as well as his own.

Reaching between your bodies, he rubs at your clit with practiced fingers. You’re close. So close. A spark of pleasure rising to dizzying heights.

“Come for me.”

You shatter. There is nothing but the wave of ecstasy washing through you.

His hips stutter as he follows you with a groan. Warmth floods your insides as you lay there, panting from exertion.

“Now let’s freshen up and greet the day, my love. Here’s to another year in our eternal lives.”

You decide that tonight, you’ll go for round two.

#astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #fluff #astarion fluff #astarion smut #ascended astarion #ascended astarion x tav #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin

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fettuccinealfred0 · 4 months

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Til Death Do Us Part | Part 2

Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.4k

(CW: general vampirism, period typical sexism, forced marriage)

Summary:

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunin, take this lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Astarion gives a dramatic ‘I do’ with a self-important little flourish of his hand. Even in the little time you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize that he is a showman above all and is incapable of turning down an opportunity to be over-the-top.

Gale turns to you, “And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you force the words out through gritted teeth because at this point, what choice do you really have?

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There’s a knock on your door the next morning, but you ignore it- too consumed by the throbbing pain in your head and the feeling of tiny knives stabbing at the back of your eyes. This is what you get for crying yourself to sleep.

At some point last night, you had managed to pull yourself off the floor and into the bed, still wearing your gown. You had barely thought to pull the pins out of your hair before you were curling in on yourself under the covers, pillow dampening under your cheek.

But there are no tears left this morning, only anger burning through your veins.

Anger felt easy, anger felt familiar. Anger masked hurt and gave it a purpose. You were hurt by Astarion because he made you feel special and you were angry at yourself because you had been too caught up in the fantasy and believed him. The two sentiments twisted and warped in your mind until you were left angry at Astarion for tricking you.

There’s another knock at the door and it infuriates you. Why couldn’t you be left alone to grieve? These people would have the entirety of your life to bother you. Did you not deserve one day to yourself? You pick up one of your shoes from the floor and hurl it at the door as you yell at the person on the other side to leave you alone.

Thankfully, your message must have been received, because for a few moments, there’s nothing but glorious silence. You let your eyes drift closed again, but your mind is too quick to turn back to last night- how easy it had been to dance with Astarion, how his arm had felt wrapped around your waist, the solid line of his body as he had pinned you to the wall and threatened you. And through all those memories is your new fiancé’s stupid, perfect, beautiful, lying face.

The way you see it, you have two ways of getting out of this wedding. Either you manage to escape or figure out how to kill Astarion.

How do you kill a vampire, though? You try to pull the stories you were told as a little girl from the recesses of your mind to see if you remember any weaknesses or weapons you can use against him. You’re supposed to drive something through their heart- a wooden stake. The elegant wooden bed posts are perhaps the most reasonable candidate, you just have to figure out how to saw through the thick wood. At this point, you’re desperate enough to start gnawing on one like a beaver. You’re studying the posts and losing hope at the feasibility of turning one into a stake when the dark haired woman from last night bursts her way into the room.

“Get out!” You practically screech at her, reaching down to pick up your remaining shoe to throw it at her. The woman simply dodges the shoe and continues wheeling in a cart of food.

“You weren’t answering the door, my lady,” she says, in a sickly sweet voice that makes you want to grab the butter knife from the cart and jam it into her throat. The way she looks at you makes you feel like you were the one inconveniencing her and not that she is complicit in your captivity.

The butter knife had you thinking again, though. It was not the best weapon by any means, but it was perhaps the best defense you would have access to. You rise from the bed and move toward the cart under the guise of investigating the food on it.

It is a lavish spread. Someone had obviously gone through great care to make sure you would find at least something on it appealing and your growling stomach is tempted by some of the sweet-looking pastries. Nevertheless, in your scheming this morning, you had already decided that one of your little acts of revenge will be to refuse food. Astarion can’t very well keep a prisoner who is dead. Or at the very least, it will be a great inconvenience for him and that thought fills you with the tiniest spark of joy.

You press your hands to the cart, continuing your fake investigation of the breakfast. The servant has her back turned to you as she remakes the bed and you take the opportunity to carefully slide the knife off the cart, concealing it in the pocket in the folds of your skirt.

“I’m not hungry,” you finally declare, as you settle at the little table in the corner of the room. You feel better, now that you’ve got your secret little knife with you- more prepared, and at least a small step further on your plot to get out of here.

“Lord Ancunin will be worried about you if you don’t eat,” the lady answers, but you can tell she is growing a bit exasperated by your antics. She prepares a plate of food anyway, setting it on the table in front of you. Passing over the food, you instead pick up the cup of tea she’d poured in an attempt to soothe your stomach.

“Astarion can worry all he’d like. I’m not going to let him fatten me up like I’m some pig he’s readying for slaughter,” you push the plate back toward her as you speak.

Astarion might have gotten what he wanted for now, but you were by no means going to make this easy for him. You were going to fight and claw and resist him in every way you knew how. A dark, vengeful part of you smirks at the idea of his pretty face marred by your claw marks.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d already be dead,” the maid says, though her face does soften a bit, full of pity. You hate her for that, for pitying you. Had you really fallen so far that you were seen as nothing more than a helpless little snack for a vampire Lord?

“At least let me help you out of that dress. You’ll feel better with a change of clothes,” she says and even though you’ve decided that this woman is your new enemy along with Astarion, she might be right that you would feel better in new clothes. You debate whether you should accept this offer of help or not, worried that if she were to help you out of your dress, she would find your precious knife tucked in the pocket.

She seems to notice your internal struggle and offers, “Or I could bring you a new dress and you could change on your own?”

You do end up agreeing to those terms, but quickly discover that you have vastly underestimated the difficulty of removing a ballgown. You weren’t used to dressing by yourself and the tiny buttons down the back of your gown seem too slippery and impossible to manage on your own. For a moment, you consider giving up entirely and just wearing this dress for the rest of your miserable life, but now that the idea of changing your clothes has gotten in your head, you want out of the stupid dress that is so full of reminders of last night.

You quickly tuck the knife underneath the pillows of the bed so that the woman cannot find it in your skirts before you swallow your pride and hesitantly knock on the inside of the door. It whips open almost immediately, the dark haired woman looking at you curiously, her long ponytail swaying behind her.

“Can you help me? I can’t get this dress off by myself,” you say, but you can feel your voice is tinged with embarrassment.

She enters the room again and undoes the slippery buttons on the back of your dress with dextrous fingers. Her speed is irritating since you had just spent the past half hour hopping around your room with your hands twisted behind your back like a fool.

“What’s your name?” you finally ask, as she’s helping to undo your corset.

“Shadowheart, my lady.”

“That’s a…” you struggle with the words, trying to be polite, “unique name.”

Shadowheart snorts out a laugh and you appreciate that she seems to have a sense of humor. “I’m not from around here.”

The dress she helps you into is soft and simple. The pale blue cotton is light and will keep you cool during the warm summer afternoon and the thin lace trim around the neckline is delicate and refined, hinting at your fiancé’s wealth. It’s the complete opposite of what you would have expected for the bride of a vampire. A part of you had even considered that Astarion might keep you dressed up in gaudy ball gowns for the rest of all time. He did seem to have a flair for the dramatic. Your initial pleasure with the dress sours when you realize this dress was just another reminder that as your husband, Astarion could completely control every aspect of your life, right down to the clothes on your back. Or the lack of clothes, though you shudder at the thought.

“We can go to a dressmaker soon and get you new clothes,” Shadowheart says, when she notices you plucking sadly at the material. “Or we can try writing a letter to your father and organize having your old clothes sent here, if you’d rather?”

Her offer makes you question if you might have been too quick to judge Shadowheart, who has been nothing but kind to you this morning, even when you have screamed and thrown things at her. Perhaps you could manage to turn her into a useful ally in your escape, after all. You couldn’t allow yourself to think that you might grow friendly with her over time. No, right now, all your mental faculties need to be dedicated to getting out of here before the wedding, before you would be legally bound to Astarion.

“The dressmaker is agreeable to me- though, it would be nice to have some of my old items sent here. Personal belongings and books and whatnot,” you answer and she gives you a small smile. Truthfully, you’d rather not have your old wardrobe sent here, especially since you planned on leaving before it would arrive. Those dresses hold memories that at this point, you’d rather forget. But, if you were to be stuck here forever, you would certainly miss your little collection of books and you also long desperately for the necklace your mother had given you before she died- it would provide a small bit of comfort in this very stressful time.

You hesitate to tell Shadhowheart that the necklace is the real purpose of your request. If your father was given any inclination how much that necklace meant to you or how much it was likely worth, it would certainly be missing if your belongings ever did show up.

“That can certainly be arranged, my lady,” she gives you another sweet smile as she guides you to sit so she can work on your hair. She looks like she’s debating whether or not to speak for a moment before she says, “Believe it or not, but everyone here really does want what’s best for you. This was just the only way for Astarion to ensure you kept his vampirism a secret.”

You scoff, immediately dismissing her words. You hadn’t missed the way that she had mistakenly called him Astarion rather than Lord Ancunin. There was a familiarity that was suggested at her use of his first name and it sat wrong with you- this idea that Astarion could be respected or, gods forbid, friendly enough with his staff that they would feel comfortable using his first name.

“But what about the woman he was drinking from last night? Why does she get to leave with her freedom?” You snap back at her, the hypocrisy of it all fanning the spark of anger within you again.

“The Lord has a longstanding agreement with several local people.” Shadowheart explains and when you let out a huff of annoyance at her answer, she continues, “There’s a level of trust and predictability there that isn’t present with you. You’re a wild card.”

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” you grumble, though you aren’t entirely sure if there was any truth to your words. You hadn’t really had time to think about what you would do after the ball since you were too focused on trying to escape Astarion. Perhaps you might have told your father on the carriage ride home, but he would have probably used it as an excuse to send you to the nuthouse and finally be rid of you. You would have still ended the night locked in a room, though admittedly one with worse interior design.

Even after Shadowheart excuses herself from the room, you sit glumly over this realization. It seems predetermined that your fate was to be imprisoned- in the asylum, in this room, in a marriage to Astarion or a marriage to that rat of a man who had been with your father last night.

The escape efforts continue in your mind, but you grow half-heartedness as the hours continue to tick by.

Shadowheart returns a few hours later with lunch, a spread of meats and cheeses with breads and dried fruits. Your fingers pass reluctantly over the dates, which were always a favorite of yours, while you reach to pour yourself a cup of tea. It’s dark and rich and you only realize after you’ve drunk the whole pot that it’s filled the room with a hint of a lovely bergamot smell. Your heart twinges when you realize that Astarion has taken this from you now, too- that bergamot has become intrinsically linked with him in your mind

You spend time staring out the window at the view of the garden, watching the servants come and go as they clean up after the ball and you can’t help but wonder if your view is by design or if this room is just the most equipped to hold a prisoner. Since your room is on the top floor, the distance to the ground makes jumping impossible. The drop could potentially kill you or at least leave you so injured you wouldn’t be able to get very far. It takes about an hour to tie together the sheets from the bed and see how long you can fasten the makeshift rope, if maybe you can climb down the side of the building before you jump. Ultimately, you don’t have enough material and the drop would still be too far. You remake the bed, disheartened at your lack of viable escape options.

When Shadowheart returns a few hours later, she lets out an annoyed sigh at your uneaten lunch, replacing it with dinner, roast duck on a bed of fragrant rice. The aroma wafts through the room, but you hold strong, letting the bowl sit untouched on the small corner table. Once again, you greedily suck down the tea, grateful that you were given an herbal blend that smells of lavender rather than bergamot.

The lack of progress you’ve made in escaping today has you feeling defeated, and you resolve yourself to the fact that your only available option is to fight your way out. After retrieving your hidden butter knife from underneath the plump pillows, you wait by the door. Strength isn’t your strong suit, so the act of surprise will have to be your weapon. You aren’t entirely sure how much damage you can do with the dull knife, but a poor weapon is better than no weapon at all. Hopefully, you can subdue the next person who comes through that door and negotiate your way out. Shadowheart would likely be back to help you prepare for bed soon and as guilty as you feel at the prospect of using her as a hostage, your own well-being was paramount.

The doorknob twists and you pounce. It’s perhaps the worst or the best possible option of who has opened the door.

“Oh, I rather like being in this position with you. Tell me, dearest, what will you do with me now that you’ve caught me?” Astarion practically purrs with his beautiful, lilting voice.

You have Astarion pinned to the wall in the perfect mirror image of last night, your arm against his chest so that the knife is pressed firmly against the column of his throat. You don’t allow yourself to look at his neck longer than it takes to position the knife, too scared you will be distracted by the way the muscles curve and dip into that delightful hollow at the base of his throat.

But you do catch the two distinct puncture wounds on his neck. The crude markings looked as if a wild animal had ripped their teeth into him carelessly. They can only be one thing. Bite marks.

The twin scars were an obvious clue to his true nature, a birthmark left from when he was reborn anew as a vampire. The high collar he had been wearing last night had covered them but the scar tissue is jagged and rough against his pale skin and they stand out unmistakably now.

Ripping your gaze from his neck, you glare into his definitely-not-distracting eyes as he regards you with a hint of amusement that just serves to irritate you further. You were supposed to be intimidating here, not amusing.

“Really, what was the plan here?” Astarion seems to grow bored at your lack of a response, lips turning up at the corner as he lets out a breath of laughter, “To stab me to death with a knife that’s not even sharp enough to cut a slice of bread?”

Your arm holding the knife up to his neck wavers and Astarion’s fingers trace a gentle path across your arms until he grasps your hand, nearly crushing it in his grip. The pain makes you involuntarily open your fist and the knife clatters to the floor with a clunk. Astarion’s quick to move his boot to step on it so you’re unable to pick it up.

With the threat of the knife removed, Astarion still lets you keep him pinned to the wall. “I see you got at least something out of the breakfast I sent for you.”

“I don’t appreciate being locked in my room,” you snarl back at him.

“Yes, well, when you start to earn some trust, I’ll let you out. But you’re not off to a strong start with the knife, darling.”

Darling.

You think of how he had called you darling last night as he swept you into his arms and danced, how it had sounded like a hymn dripping from his lips that caused a sweet warmth to pool in your belly. Now, you practically hiss at him using the words, hackles raised in defense like a wild dog.

He pokes your cheek, lips curled up in a smile, “Very scary.”

“I hate you.”

“A shame, really. We could’ve had so much fun together,” Astarion’s hand sneaks down to curl around your back and rest against your hip while he talks, pulling you closer against him. The position is so similar to how he had held you while you danced last night and for a moment, you give in, letting yourself enjoy his touch rather than immediately shaking his hands off.

His voice is deep and sultry, hand tightening where it clutches against the fabric of your dress, “If only you hadn’t ruined my plans for last night… I would have come back from my midnight snack, satiated by blood, but starving for you. I would have taken you to stroll the gardens, fed you a line about how the roses were jealous of your beauty and I would have even cut one off for you for you to remember me by.”

You’re struck by how similar his plan was to your daydream last night, as if Astarion was intimately familiar with your deepest desires.

He’s leaning closer and the soft brush of one of his white curls against your forehead is nearly divine as his words continue to hypnotize you, “I would have kissed you, over and over and over again, until you couldn’t think straight.”

“I could’ve touched you,” he emphasizes his words by dipping the hand on your waist just a fraction of an inch lower. The warm smell of bergamot is flooding your senses and his mouth is moving so, so close to yours, only a hair’s breadth away from your own as he speaks in a rich, seductive voice. Your lips part in anticipation, breath hitching in your throat at the thought.

“Have you ever been touched before?” His gaze feels like a caress as it slides down your neck to your collarbones, gentle fingers tilting your chin up to refocus your gaze on his lovely face.

“No, not a proper little girl like you. I can’t imagine how pent up you are. I would have used my mouth and my hands on you until you saw stars. Until all you could remember was my name, falling from your lips like a prayer.”

“Enough,” you shake your head, placing your hand against his chest to press yourself a step away from him. His eyes are dark and hooded as he follows your movement and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the flaming heat you feel licking at your face.

It’s cruel of Astarion to imprison you and then come in here and fill your mind with delicious fantasies. Perhaps this is his way of playing with his food- to visit you and shame you for how desperately you wanted him. It was cruel of him to demean you for your desire, not after he pretended to need you just as badly last night.

“You don’t get to mock me,” you say to him, once you’ve collected your composure.

“I’m not mocking, pet, I’m teasing.” He’s still leaned against the wall, arms casually crossed across his chest. “It’s what good lovers do to each other.”

“Lovers?” you splutter.

“I’m teasing again, dear. Gods, you make it so easy.” Astarion finally pushes himself off from the wall, leaning down to pick up the knife and tuck it in his own pocket.

You glare at him while he moves, attempting to assert your dominance over a situation that you were quickly losing control of.

“You haven’t eaten today,” Astarion breaks the silence, eyes softening a bit. He sounds genuinely concerned and his pretend sincerity has you wondering if you could be quick enough to grab the knife back out of his pocket and give him a good stab in the side. He doesn’t get to be concerned about you. Not when he is the one causing you distress.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Your stomach betrays you by choosing that moment to grumble. You know Astarion heard it. Damned vampire.

“My, my. Well, you’re either lying or you’re dying of some weird stomach condition. And as much fun as the latter would be, I’d really prefer you stay alive until our wedding.”

Refusing to respond to his taunts, you cross your arms over your chest and continue glaring.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to poison you, darling. That would be a waste of perfectly good blood.” Astarion says, rolling his eyes. You know that he catches how you stiffen at the mention of blood.

“Oh,” he draws out the word all long and self-important now that he thinks he has you figured out, “So that’s what you’re worried about, that I’m going to drink from you. Dearest, as fun as it was chasing after you last night, I prefer meals that are a bit easier to catch.”

You remain silent, still, and Astarion takes a step closer to you, his fingers brushing affectionately against your upper arm. It’s nearly impossible to hold back the shiver that threatens to run down your spine.

“Just promise me you’ll eat something,” his eyes have got that stupid soft-ness to them again that makes you want to do the opposite of what he’s saying just to spite him.

You remind yourself that you can’t believe a word he says. Astarion has proven himself as a liar and a cheat. In fact, his whole act tonight is probably a part of his masterplan to sacrifice you for your virgin blood or something.

“I won’t promise you anything!” you cry, incredulous.

Astarion moves to leave but pauses in the doorway, hand curled around the doorknob. If he would just open the door, you could try to rush out around him.

“How do you feel about a nighttime wedding?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“Whatever pleases you, husband.” You hiss back at him. “My opinion on our upcoming marriage hasn’t seemed to matter so far.”

“Yes, well, you do forfeit some right to make your own choices when you exhibit poor decision making capabilities and sneak around, following scary monsters in the dark,” he snarks, which sets off a fresh wave of anger within you.

Astarion closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath. You feel a bit of pride that you seem to be getting under his skin just as much as he is frustrating you.

“You like roses, right?” Astarion asks.

“Yes,” you reply. The initial pleasure that he had remembered a detail about you from last night fades as you begin to grow wary about his motives in asking.

“Good, I’ve planned for there to be plenty at the wedding tomorrow night. I’ll be the handsome devil standing at the end of the aisle,” he shoots a wink over his shoulder before the lock clicks behind him. At this point, the familiar sound nearly makes you sick to your stomach.

—---

Shadowheart comes in to see you sulking a bit later and draws a bath for you. The warm water feels wonderful, but does nothing to tamper the heat that has been rising under your skin since the moment Astarion let you pin him to the wall.

You don’t sleep very well that night, anger and something else coursing through your veins. Astarion’s words from earlier stick with you in your dreams.

I would have kissed you, over and over and over again.

I would have used my mouth and my hands on you until you saw stars. Until all you could remember was my name, falling from your lips like a prayer.

And a day ago, you would have let him, would have been driven half mad with ecstasy at the prospect. But Astarion had to ruin that. Astarion had to ruin everything. He was the subject of all of your daydreams and the architect of all your nightmares.

You do manage to sleep, eventually, but you wake up hot and sticky with sweat, the taste of Astarion’s lips still a whisper in your mind.

And yeah, okay, maybe you do snag a pastry at breakfast when Shadowheart isn’t looking. She doesn’t say anything, but you know she notices. You can only hope that she doesn’t report it back to Astarion.

In the morning, you watch the gardens as they’re prepared for the wedding, observing how the ornate flowery archway that you suppose will be your altar is constructed at a moment’s notice. You feel like you are marching to your death as the wedding crawls ever closer, your chance of escape slipping further away with every passing moment.

Shadowheart returns in the late afternoon to help you prepare for the ceremony. The dress she carries with her is far simpler than you expected, less intricate even than your dress from the ball a couple nights ago. The dark material is offset with shimmery, golden thread embroidered into the material in beautiful floral patterns. You wonder if Astarion just kept this on hand or had managed to contact a dressmaker who could make this dress so quickly.

Shadowheart pins your hair up in tasteful braided style and you do have to admit that you look beautiful when you look into the mirror. That familiar rage is burning in you again. You don’t want to look beautiful for Astarion, you don’t want to drag this out any longer or harder than it needs to be.

You dread the thought of tonight. You were not as naive to the world as your father might have thought; you had heard the whisperings of other ladies when they discussed the horrors of their marital beds, heard the talk of greedy husbands and so much pain. On a normal wedding night, even the best of men could turn into a savage and you shudder to think what it might be like with a man who is already a beast. How much worse would it be for you?

But were you not a hypocrite? Had you not dreamt of coming undone on his elegant hands just last night? You force yourself to stop before you can continue down that train of thought and get carried away with silly, romantic notions. No, it was best to prepare for the worst. Tonight would be a worse torture than your two days locked in a cage. And you had to attend a stupid party about it first.

Shadowheart seems to be able to sense your nerves, probably because you’ve spent the whole afternoon alternating between fiddling with your hands and sighing.

She kneels down in front of you, staring at you with an intensity that lets you know her next words will be very important. “You know that I am your lady’s maid. That I default to serving you over the Lord, right?”

“Deep down, he is a good man, but if anything, and I mean anything, happens tonight that makes you uncomfortable, you call me and I will drag Lord Ancunin out of here bruised and bloody. I don’t care if it’s as simple as him attempting to hold your hand when you don’t wish him to.”

Her words comfort you even though you wonder how much time that would really buy you. After all, it was part of your wifely duties to satisfy your husband, to bear his children. Although you aren’t entirely sure if it’s possible to have children with a vampire, you’re going to operate under the assumption that it’s possible until you’re told otherwise as part of your ‘prepare for the worst’ strategy.

“Thank you,” you sincerely tell her because you want to let her know that her words have comforted you even if you doubt that she would be able to fight off a vampire.

“If you really wanted to help, you could get me out of this marriage,” you offer up, partially as a joke and partially to see if maybe the solution to your problems is really that easy.

“We both know I can’t do that,” Shadowheart says, because it never is that easy. Once again, she’s got that stupid, sad smile on her face again that makes you want to knock her pretty teeth out.

“Thought I’d try, at least.”

Your feet seem to have stopped working, so Shadowheart has to practically drag you out of the room and dump you in the garden. She’s, unfortunately, much stronger than she looks. Who knows, maybe she could take down a vampire?

The floral archway you had spent all morning looking at is even more breathtaking in person. The deep, red roses are braided in against beautiful ironwork. You hate Astarion for remembering that you liked roses, hate him for feigning kindness and trying to do something that you would like.

Astarion is standing at the end of the altar, as promised, and damn it all if he doesn’t look like Lucifer incarnate- the most beautiful angel hiding an evil and twisted soul. When you get closer, you can see that his waistcoat has matching floral embroidery on it.

So, you’re matching now? That’s what the world has devolved into. It takes everything in you to not rip the stupid dress off right then. But, you refrain yourself because you’re in public and you’re a lady (and definitely not because you were humbled by the button fiasco yesterday).

You practically snarl when you meet Astarion at the altar but he ignores you, his finger reaching out to trace along the petal of rose embroidered on your dress, right next to your collarbone. If he were alive, you would be able to feel the warmth from his hand.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“You have ruined roses for me,” you spit back at him. Astarion’s brow furrows for a moment before the man standing next to the two of you is awkwardly clearing his throat. You recognize him from the ball, as the man who interrupted your and Astarion’s dance. He must be Astarion’s valet, serving him as Shadowheart does for you.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” The valet tries to sound enthusiastic but he wilts a bit when you shift your glare to him.

You can feel Shadowheart standing behind you and you know that if you try to run, she’ll simply grab you and drag you back.

“The quicker this is over with, the better.” You say and can’t resist looking at Astarion and adding, “Though, I’m sure you know a thing or two about finishing quickly, darling.”

You can tell that Astarion’s valet is holding back a laugh at your comment.

“Continue, Gale.” Astarion finally instructs after a few seconds of stunned silence.

The man, Gale, holds up a stack of papers that he begins to read from. Oh my, were all of those pages filled with words? You might be here all night.

“What is marriage? A contract, yes, but also the blessed union of two souls, sealed together in eternal love. The marriage bond is sacred and divine, but we must not mistake it as pure. No, real love is never pure. It is messy and confusing and the both of you will make many mistakes as you grow together.”

Hang on, was this guy even married? Who the fuck is he to be out here spewing nonsense about the sanctity of marriage? And when did he even have the time to write this? You’re so confused by the situation that your anger at Astarion has managed to dissipate completely.

Gale is somehow still rambling on, minutes later, as you stare at him with an open mouth, “And although, the two of you are entering this contract under… less than ideal circumstances, we can only hope that your love will grow to flourish. In fact-”

Astarion finally cuts him off. “We can do without the fanfare, I think.”

Gale gives a disappointed sigh, grumbling about how he was just trying to make this a nice moment.

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunin, take this lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Astarion gives a dramatic ‘I do’ with a self-important little flourish of his hand. Even in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize that he is a showman above all and is incapable of turning down an opportunity to be over-the-top.

Gale turns to you, “And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you force the words out through gritted teeth because at this point, what choice do you really have?

You slide the rings on each other’s fingers and Astarion’s cool skin against your hand feels wonderful amidst the balmy summer night.

There’s no after-party, no fanfare. You simply say the words and sign the paperwork and leave immediately, content to go wallow by yourself in your room as you wait for Astarion to consummate your marriage.

You’ve half sent yourself into a panic as you pace, even if Shadowheart’s promise from earlier rings comfortably in your ears. You wish you hadn’t already wasted your knife yesterday. It would at least provide some false sense of comfort for when Astarion came for you.

You sit and you wait. And you wait. And you wait. Astarion doesn’t come.

You feel your eyes struggling to stay open and only when you catch your chin falling down to your chest do you snap yourself awake. This isn’t like you, to just take something lying down. The only solution left is to confront him. You jump to your feet, crossing the room with the most determination you’ve been able to muster all day.

For the first time, the door to your room is unlocked when you turn the handle. Surprised, you poke your head out, scanning left and right down the hallway to check that there’s not some sort of booby trap. That seems like something Astarion would do- offer you hope of escape and then callously snatch it away at the last moment.

Candlelight flickers in the doorway a few rooms away. When you peek into the room, Astarion is reading something, leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the desk looking like the arrogant asshole you know he is. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence at all, just turns the page of his book.

“The door was unlocked,” you say, because you aren’t really sure of how else to greet him. Hello felt far too simple after you had spent the past two nights pinning each other to walls and playing mind games with one another.

Astarion hums in affirmation, eyes still focused on the book in his lap. “Yes, I only had it locked in order to keep you here long enough for us to get married. Do what you’d like now. You are the new lady of the manor.”

It seems unreal, that the past two days of torture were ultimately going to amount to… nothing? Perhaps this was just another one of his tricks to catch you unawares? If you stopped thinking of him like a threat, stopped expecting the worst in him, or gods forbid, if you lowered your guard, it would be that much easier for him to trap you.

“So, I’m free to leave?” You try asking cautiously, expecting his red eyes to snap up and for him to hiss out an angry no, for him to laugh at you and snatch away your freedom right after he had teased you with the unlocked door.

“I’d suggest you wait until the morning, but yes, feel free to leave and continue on with your life however you please. Or stay. I really don’t care.” He says instead, turning the page of his book again. Was he even bothering to listen to you?

“Then why did you force me to marry you?” You cry out because nothing these past two days has made any sense to you. Nothing has made sense to you since you saw Astarion standing in front of you like a holy angel who had been blessed with all of heaven’s beauty, when all you knew was that this man had been made to ruin you.

And now, everything about Astarion is a contradiction. You hate him and yet you crave him. He offers you hope while crudely stabbing through your back with a knife. He imprisons you and shackles you to him by law and offers to let you go free. Even now, as you stare at how the candlelight sends shadows dancing across his pale skin that make his jawline somehow appear even sharper, you aren’t sure whether you want to kiss him or kill him.

“Well, I doubt anyone would believe a new bride when she says her husband is a vampire. They’d chalk it up to a newlywed squabble or perhaps think that you just don’t understand the sensuality of a good bite. And if you do choose to leave, the longer we aren’t together, the more people will assume you’re spreading nasty rumors because we’re estranged.”

That… actually makes a lot of sense. You had been too caught up in your panic and your anger to look at this situation with any real rationality.

But now, faced with the choice, where would you go? If all the freedom in the world was yours, what would you do with it? Certainly, you wouldn’t go to your old home, with your angry father and unsympathetic brothers.

You would want a garden, you think, perhaps one to rival the Ancunin’s. You would want to fill your days with reading and gardening and walking. For the first time, you wonder if perhaps the life you’ve always wished for has been offered up to you on a silver platter. Your mind had been so tainted with your hatred for Astarion that you didn’t even imagine that perhaps you could be happy here. That perhaps you could be happier than you even were before.

“I don’t… I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” your shoulders drop in realization, fingertips nervously running along the pretty embroidery of your dress. It feels like an admission of defeat as you stand in front of him, as if you’ve been eviscerated and are trying desperately to keep your insides from falling out on the floor in front of him.

“Stay here then,” Astarion answers and he looks so bored with the conversation that the familiar fire of anger is burning in your veins. How dare he callously act like his actions have had no consequence on your life? How dare he act like he didn’t have the legal authority to control you as your husband if he wanted to? How dare he act like he hadn’t flipped your world upside down the moment he first swept you into his arms?

You force yourself to take a deep breath, to soothe the anger that sits deep in your chest and you finally decide to bring up the issue that’s plagued your mind all day. “You didn’t come to my room tonight.”

“Do you want me to?” He looks genuinely shocked and finally closes the book and drops his feet from the desk. He takes a moment to collect himself before leaning forward, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. “I know I’m irresistible. There is still plenty of time tonight for me to ravish you, if that’s what you’d like.”

You know it’s an act, know he’s probably teasing to get a rise out of you. But you can help the panic that bubbles in you and you immediately shout a refusal to his offer.

Astarion leans back in his chair, hands coming to rest under his chin. His fingers are long and slender and oh, so elegant as they press together as if in prayer. This man, who could destroy faiths and desecrate holy ground with just the flick of his pretty wrist.

It dawns on you that the gold wedding ring you had slipped onto his finger hours ago has already mysteriously disappeared from his hands. And though it might be hypocritical of you, who removed your ring almost immediately, you can’t help but be a little hurt that he apparently wasted no time in casting you aside, either. Have you already been so cruelly disregarded?

“I don’t go where I’m unwelcome, darling.” He curls his lips up at the corner in a devilish smile, “I’d much rather wait until you’re so desperate that you beg me to have you.”

You’re determined not to give Astarion the shocked, embarrassed reaction you know he’s itching for.

“And what if I want you to be the one to beg?” you ask him instead. His eyes flash with a wicked gleam, so red you can’t help but remember the blood running down his chin in the moonlight.

“Well, that can certainly be arranged, darling.” Astarion keeps you locked in his fiery gaze for another moment or two before he sighs and breaks the tension. “But that’s not going to happen tonight, so I suggest you go to bed. Get some beauty sleep, not that you need it.”

And yeah, maybe you do have to hold back a laugh at that stupid line.

“Goodnight,” you say, turning to go back to your room.

“Sweet dreams, little flower,” Astarion calls after you.

And for the second night in a row, you dream of crimson eyes and elegant hands that have you waking restless and unfulfilled.

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

Notes:

For the record, I absolutely love Gale, but lets not pretend that he wouldn't go SO over the top if he was allowed to officiate a wedding.

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading! ETA for the third chapter is next Sunday, 12/31.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #reader insert #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #til death do us part

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euaphoric · 19 days

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OK IM BACK FR THIS TIMEEE ☝️ srsly hoping that i’ll be able 2 post this weekend if i finish my hw earlyyy (つ д⊂) pls help pick which idea to writeeee tyyy ° :. *₊ ° . ☆ ° :. *₊ ° . ° .•

if the one i like the most doesn’t win i’ll be hella sad but it’s okiee they’re all pretty decent so i won’t mind, iwjust wanna get back into writing again cause i have so many thoughts rattling in my stupid brain and need an outlet to divulge in them D;

oH— um also i rlly rlly wanna do a vampire!yoongi fic, ik it’s SUPER random but idkkk just smth about him making me his little housepet and claiming as his own !!!!! makes me feel faint n weak at the knees for him mmnhshsjnsn 😣 i need them both so badly it’s not even a joke n e more

#lor is thinking…#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 4 months

Text

List (Sorted by Characters)

list sorted by story content

fics rec 1

Hello, I’m HalloHello. Thanks for reading!

This is a side blog so I can’t leave likes or follow others with this blog I’m so stupid I’m sorry :(

Simon "Ghost" Riley

New Year Fireworks + We Both Broke Our Promise (F)

Invincible (F)

My Heart Can Sleep When I'm with You (F)

Daisy Dukes - 1 2 (F)

His Only Asylum + Bring Me to Heaven (F, 18+, gore and knife)

Bed All Day (GN) (18+)

Inhale Our Sorrow, Exhale Our Future (GN)

Bedtime Story (F)

Unexpected Encounter (F)

Ghost*Reader with Scars and Hide Their Face (GN)

Smut Challenge - Neighbor!Reader (F) (18+)

Husband!Simon with Car Crash Wife!Reader (F)

Simon Got a Flu (GN)

Nine things Simon Riley Might Annoy (intentionally or not) His Shorter Partner (GN)

Sleeping (truly) with Simon (GN)

Domestic Life with Retired Husband!Simon (GN)

Simon with A Gammy Reader (GN)

Perv!Simon Riley with Yandere!Reader (GN)

It Isn’t Fate Bringing Us Together (It’s Me) - 1 2 (Dark Fiction, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat)(GN)

Palette (F)

Ex-bf!Simon Riley*F!Reader (F)

End This Repeating Dance (GN)

Silly Moments between Simon and Reader (F)

Simon Taking Care of You When You Accidentally Injured Yourself (F)

Simon Riley, Will You Marry Me? (F)

Soulmate AU - Separate Endings (GN)

How To Remember? (F)

Voicemails (F)

Your Inviting Lips (GN)(anon ask)

Remember-me-not (GN)

The Last Dance (GN)

Two-way Trap (F)

Simon Exploring Your Cute Reactions (GN)(evil 🐼 anon)

Simon Loves Your Chubby and Adorable Face (GN)(🦈 anon)

A Day of A Cute (and Silly) Couple (GN)(req)

Hey, how are you? (F)

Grim Reaper!Ghost*Reader That’s Always Alone (GN)

John “Soap” MacTavish

Smut Challenge - Neighbor!Reader (F) (18+)

Regret Devouring Me (GN)

John Price

How To Remember? (F)

The True Me (GN)

König

Spider Webs - 1 2 3 bonus chapter 1 (F) (18+)

His Only Asylum (F, 18+, gore and knife)

NSFW Alphabet (F, 18+)

Vampire AU Headcanons (GN)

Cat Café AU Headcanons 1 2 (GN)

Cat Reader Headcanons (GN)

TF141

In Pairs - Price Soap Gaz Ghost (GN)

What Makes You Unique (GN)

Cream Puffs (GN)

Sweet Flavor of Your Lips (F)

Vampire AU Headcanons (GN)

Cat Café AU Headcanons 1 2 (GN)

Cat Reader Headcanons (GN)

Wild Pets - 1 1.5 (F)

Tf141 with a Fragile Reader (GN)

Tf141 with a Reader Who Sucks at Baking but Wants to Bake Them a Valentine’s Day Dessert (F)

Tf141 with gap moe (contradictory-characteristic cuteness) reader (GN)

Melt Down The Snow (GN) (🦈 anon)

Some Thoughts about Demon!TF141 (GN)

More About Demon!TF141 (F) (18+) (anon req)

Demon!TF141 but Reader Becomes Demon Too (F) (anon req)

No Tolerance!! (F) (🦈 anon)

TF141 men seeing you wearing face chain for party (F) (🦈 Anon)

TF141*Reader Angst in Few Sentences (GN)

Always By Your Side (GN)

TF141*Reader Fluff in Few Sentences (GN)

Not Dying Alone (GN)

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #cod imagine #price x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #könig x reader #price x you #soap x you #gaz x you #cod x reader #cod x you

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captain039 · 7 months

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Intertwined with a mortal

Ascended Vampire Duke!Astarion x human!reader

Bridgerton x Astarion 👍🏻

Warnings: Olden times, swearing, age gap, tension, slow burn, vampire Mates, vampire things, angst, sexual, harassment, bigger reader, fat shaming, 18+, angst, Astarions trauma, anxiety, depression, learning to touch and love, big dislike for children lmao, AOB, artist reader, manipulation

Elves and humans will be the only races, they don’t like each other lmao. Baldurs gate will be built differently too, more like olden London(like Bridgerton) just called Baldurs gate xD

Think that’s it

Changing Karlach race to Human for this xD

Baldurs gate was known for its wealthy family’s and grand party’s at the alpha grand dukes palace, the grand duke Gortash was known for his handsome smirk and witty remarks as well as keeping the city in check. Upon social season the grand duke would hold a total of ten balls while some of the lower ranking members often had party’s once a week maybe less, depending it was an exhausting time.

You were not keen to flutter your eyelashes and drop your fan ‘accidently’ as some books suggested for the attention of a alpha suitor. Gods forbid you actually want to do something than marry and birth twenty children. Your father would often chuckle at your bold claims when you were only ten years of age, you would stomp your foot, say you were not going to have babies, they were hideous and ugly cried. Your mother would roll her eyes and sigh while your father would throw his head back and laughter before giving you a high five. As you got older though you realised that truely was your purpose, nothing else was approved for a young lady heading out into society. You dreamt of love though, seeing how your mother and father held a strong bond, you wanted that, wanted that connection with someone, a lover to call your own, a husband to indulge you as you indulged him, this was your first year running and your anxiety was higher than grand duke Gortashs highest tower. It was the first ball of the social season, lead by the alpha grand duke Gortash himself. You couldn’t shake the way your stomach churned all day, your mother was fussing over your dress, hair and makeup. You were ready to collapse on your bed, you’d already taken two years off the social season, begging your father mainly to allow you to study art. Problem was you were an only child and you had a duty to continue this line. Going to the actual ball was more nerve wracking than you wanted it, your mum still fussing over the way your dress sat. Your father would smack her hand lightly and she’d huff at him before she settled for a bit. When you arrived you held your fathers arm tightly, feeling overwhelmed. Your fathers calming scent was what you were trying to focus on as you entered the large palace. You were hit with music, chatter and too many scents. You gulped visibly as your father lead you in, you kept your head down instantly till your mother tsked and pushed your chin up. Your eyes darted to everybody and you wanted to hide behind your father.

“Just take a breath” your father said softly giving you a smile and patting your hand as a family approached, the Hallowleafs. You sighed a bit seeing their daughter Jen with them, her husband no where to be seen.

“Hello” she smiled and you smiled letting go of your fathers arm realising you must look stupid.

“How are you?” She added.

“Ok, nervous-“ you said and she chuckled softly.

“Nothing to fret about” she said going to stand by you and took your arm. You were thankful for the alpha as she scanned the grand hall.

“So have you picked anyone?” She asked and you froze cheeks going red as she laughed softly.

“Do I need to?” You whispered and she shook her head.

“If only we could, unfortunately the suitors come to you” she sighed lightly.

“Do I have to pretend to drop my fan?” You asked softly and she laughed rather loudly making her cover her mouth instantly as you laughed softly with her and she huffed at you.

“That only works in books trust me” she chuckled as you looked through the crowd knowing many of these faces. You frowned slightly though seeing a white haired elf, a duke you hadn’t seen in a while.

“Odd” you muttered and Jen frowned following your gaze.

“Duke Ancunin?” She asked and you nodded.

“I thought he never came to these?” You asked softly.

“Probably here to find something to warm his bed honestly, but you didn’t hear that from me” she rolled her eyes and you gave her surprised eyes.

“What? That’s all he does! Never had taken a potential partner” she huffed as you watched him. His white hair seemed to sit so perfectly against his face and elf ears, the elegant black and red clothes he wore sat perfectly on his body, gold embroidery adorning the suit. Lady’s even gentlemen surrounded him, he turned your way his handsome face coming into view, hooded eyes looking to you. You felt yourself freeze a bit as he stared at you through his pale lashes ignoring the group around him. You felt like he was staring right through you and quickly looked away, he probably wasn’t looking at you anyway.

“Oh the dancing starting” Jen said suddenly and you realised nobody had asked you to dance as they cleared the middle of the floor. Couples began to dance and you felt somewhat jealous, but shook the feeling off quickly.

“A dance milady?” You frowned glancing to your left seeing Duke Ancunin by your side, you hadn’t even heard him come over.

“Oh-“ you hesitantly glanced to Jen who gave you a cheeky smile making you groan internally.

“Of course” you said taking his hand as he lead you to the floor. You felt yourself shake a bit as you stood opposite of him with the other lady’s. you gave a courtesy before the men bowed. As the music began you stepped closer pressing your hands together before pulling back with a step before leading into a simple waltz, you could do this. Had your heart not been pounding and your mind so focused on the steps you might’ve engaged in conversation.

“You’re practically shaking my dear” he finally spoke and you looked to him cheeks hot.

“Apologies my Duke” you said embarrassed as you tried to steady your heart. You tried to focus on his scent his rank, but all you smelt was the cologne he used bergamot, rosemary, and brandy, no alpha, beta or omega undertones, just coldness. His body was cool too, not like your overheated one, he was firm to touch, but his whole body moved with elegance.

“Have you danced before?” He asked and you frowned slightly, was your dancing that bad?

“I’ve had my lessons, I’m sorry I’m not up to standard, my duke” your tone came out harsher than you meant, gods you would never find a suitor. He chuckled lightly though and you looked to him again, red eyes captivating you.

“I meant with a real partner, darling, you dance very well” he said voice lowering a bit to send a shudder up your spine.

“This is my first season” you whispered looking away.

“Is that why you’re shaking?” He asked head moving slightly closer to yours a small smile on his face.

“It’s nerve wracking yes” you said as he spun you around and brought you back in.

“I don’t like this many people to may scents, sounds” you babbled before realising what you’d done.

“Apologies my duke” you said wanting to disappear as you kept your eyes on his chest.

“Speak your mind darling, it does not bother me” he said and you felt yourself relax a little.

“I don’t usually dance at balls” he added and you looked up again.

“Are you not unmarried, why would you not?” You asked curiously his smile still there.

“Curious thing aren’t you?” He asked teasingly and you flushed.

“Sorry, again my duke” you mumbled.

“I do like how you say ‘my’ duke” he grinned and you felt your stomach flip.

“It is your title” you said quickly.

“Hm, but it sounds so sweet on your tongue” he had leant down to whisper that in your ear and your whole body tensed.

“I should go-“ you said quickly feeling your heart pounding as you pushed away and quickly retreated to your mother. You left him standing a frown on his face and people whispered softly.

“What happened? You were dancing so wonderfully” your mother cooed as you held her arm.

“Can we go please?” You begged hearing your heart beat loudly.

“Oh- of course sweetheart” she muttered calling over your father politely before you left.

The ride home you just stared out the window trying to ease your heart, you couldn’t think straight. Upon arriving home you ignored your mothers worried calls as you ran up the stairs and into your room. You fell on your bed screaming into the pillows which calmed you down a bit. You sighed rolling over onto your back with a loud huff afterwards and stared at the ceiling. You cursed the dress and got up struggling with the laces with a frustrated groan. A knock came and you tensed before hearing your fathers voice. He walked in slowly as you sat back down on the bed with a huff.

“What happened little flower?” He asked sitting by you.

“You were dancing amazingly with Duke Ancunin” he added.

“I’m not going to find a suitor” you stated and your father frowned.

“Why do you think that?” He asked.

“Because I-“ you growled in frustration standing up.

“I was shaking horribly, he picked up on it! Then I snapped at him!” You said frustrated as your father tensed a bit.

“What happened what did you and he say?” He asked.

“He asked if I ever danced with someone and I got defensive and said I’ve had lessons, I’m sorry it’s not up to your standard” you mocked and sneered.

“Oh boy” your father muttered.

“See! Can’t I just be sent off somewhere and die alone with my paintings?!” You sighed and sat back down dramatically.

“I’m afraid not, what happened after?” He asked.

“He laughed” you mumbled and your father relaxed.

“You didn’t offend him them, see?” He tried to encourage, but you just raised an eyebrow at him with a huff.

“Come now it’s your first ball, there will be more to come and you’ll have practise! Just because tonight went bad doesn’t mean they all will” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you to him. You gave in and sighed before giving a small nod.

“If it truely goes horrible this season I’ll see what I can do” he gave you a gently squeeze and a kiss on the head.

“For now, sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow, who knows maybe your dance with the duke got you some attention” he shrugged and left with a soft goodnight before you laid back on your bed with a sigh.

The duke had frowned when you practically ran off from the dance floor to your mother and left. Apparently, his charms hadn’t worked on you, you were easy prey, young and fresh to the social season. When he saw you across the room he felt his fangs ache and his body being tugged your way. When your sweet sweet scent hit his nose he knew he must have you, hearing your blood pump through your veins like a melody was better than any music being played. Your warmth was radiating, he knew you’d be on fire with a single caress, he was going to have fun this season, you only needed some enticing.

Part 2

#astarion x reader #Duke astarion #x reader #aob #acsended astarion #bg3 #vampires #Bridgerton inspired

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