#bdg3 astarion x reader

[simp4emo]

So I don’t have Baldur’s gate 3, but during the last weeks since the holidays I’ve seen enough clips, playthroughs, memes, art, and cutscenes to know that I love the companions and I’d die for them.

…

That and Astarion makes me want to write again.

So I have some ideas that I’ll eventually work on.

(Also I am this 🤏 close to write a character essay on Ao3 about him because I’m tired of how part of the fandom creates drama and judges others just for having a favourite)

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

can I request some cute fluff with Astarion - I think something cute would be tav’s never worn a dress and they put one on and Astarion is just mindblow by how good they look? 🥺

maybe he can do some chivalrous acts as well~

She Looks Breathtaking

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has never seen you in a dress, you haven’t been in one since you were taken from baldur's gate. you both find it hard to hide your excitement.

warnings : none :)

authors note: I hope you like this anon! (first, i finally played baldur's gate. second, i'm going to try and pump out the requests that I haven't gotten to.)

“Oh! Look how pretty this is!” 

You turn your head to look towards Karlach’s booming voice, much too loud for the small space you were in. She held up a dress, something you hadn’t thought about wearing in months. You hadn’t had any important events to attend.

Walking over to her side, you take the fabric between your fingers. “It’s beautiful..”

“You should get it. I think you’d look great, and I bet Astarion would like it too.” She nudged at your side, teasing. Your face flushed, and you ran your fingers along the hem of the dress, avoiding Karlachs gaze. She likes to poke fun at the obvious crush you had developed on Astarion, and everytime she did you regretted telling her more and more. 

Eventually, you find a small paper attached to the fabric showing the price of the dress, eyes widening at the disgustingly low price. 

“When would I even get a chance to wear it? It would go to waste, just weigh my bag down.” Karlach huffs, taking the price tag and reading it for herself.

“Are you kidding me? Even if you don’t wear it, you’d be a fool to ignore this price. Maybe you will attend some noble party when we get to Baldur's Gate!” She was way too excited but her energy almost made you agree with her, the dress was so cheap even if it went unworn for a long time. And you hadn’t worn one in..you couldn’t even remember.

You thought about it for a moment before moving for your coin pouch, pouring the amount into your hand and handing the coins to the trader. They slip out of your hand much faster than you'd care to admit, hiding your excitement from Karlach proving to be a challenge. “Don’t say a word to anyone, Karlach, I mean it.”

“Fine. But I better get to see you in it, at least try it on for me when we get back to camp!” You shake your head, amused by Karlachs childish antics, but you yourself can’t help but feel a little bit excited by the idea of dressing up. 

When you returned to camp that night you had forgotten about the dress in your bag, slipping your mind amidst the constant thought of being attacked or having to talk your way out of a hostile situation. 

So when Karlach came bouncing over to your side, your tent tucked away in a corner secluded from most of your party to keep your privacy, you could only give her a confused look. She seemed so excited and you had no idea why, and she was beginning to return the confusion.

“You gonna put on the dress or just make me stand here?” Oh! You let your bag fall to the ground, crouching down to rummage through its contents, searching for the dress. 

When you found it you laid it over your bag, standing back up to remove the leather from your body. You could hear Karlachs giggles as you shimmied out of your much too tight leather pants, only to have to pull the dress over your body right after.

Your hair was up, but you untied it and allowed your hair to fall over your shoulders. When you turned back to her, she stared at you with awe. “Woah..”

“What?” 

“You look..nice.” You giggled, which made her laugh along with you, both of you unaware of the approaching footsteps. His eyes trace along your figure, and he allows himself a moment of greediness to take in the full effect you have. You seem so happy, a smile appearing on his cheeks as he watches you smile gleefully and so..so..carefree. You're finally allowing yourself to have fun, and not worrying about protecting everyone else around you. And Gods.. you’re breathtaking. 

He would never admit to a living soul, or a non-living one for that matter, but he had been infatuated with you since the moment you asked him to join your party. You made him weak, and with his newfound freedom he wasn’t sure what the correct way to deal with it was. Obviously he could use his charm to lure you into his bedroll, but he wanted more, he wanted to be the reason you felt giddy enough to show your teeth with a smile. He wanted to be the reason you laughed, and fooled around, the reason you felt safe enough to have fun. 

He takes a deep breath in, to regain his confidence and charm, and he proceeds towards the two of you.  

Until his voice filled your ears and caused your eyes to shoot in his direction, “Well well..don’t you look nice.” 

“Astarion!” He approached the two of you slowly, staring at you and paying no mind to Karlach’s presence. 

“I’m gonna leave you two alone..” Karlach let out an awkward chuckle, making eye contact with you with wiggly eyebrows before sneaking away.

You look back towards Astarion, who is unable to make eye contact with you as his eyes roam along your body, preoccupied. You're certain he doesn't even realise Karlach has left from beside the two of you.

“Where did you get this pretty thing?” He looks back up to meet your eyes, smirk big enough to show his fangs which sends a nervous shiver through your body. A tingle in your neck reminds you of the favour you allowed him. Your arms cross against your chest, suddenly more nervous in his presence than ever before. 

“Just something I picked up from a merchant..” 

“In all the time I’ve traveled by your side , I’ve never seen you look so.. elegant.” 

“Wow thanks..” You roll your eyes with a snort, crossing your arms tighter across your chest.

“Now c’mon darling..you know I mean you no disrespect. Only pointing out the obvious. May I?” At first you're unsure what he’s even asking permission for, but when you see his hands reaching out to touch you, you give him a nod. 

He doesn’t hesitate, hands finding your hips. “See…usually you’re wearing that menacing leather, always so serious.” Your face scrunches up at his words, you’ve never thought your armour to be very menacing nor did you believe you were ‘always serious’. Only when the situation called for it. 

The heat of his skin can be felt even through the fabric. His thin fingers squeeze into the plush of your hips, then run along your waist, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “But right now, in this dress, with your hair undone,” He brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hairs, “You look so free. You’re beautiful darling..so beautiful.” 

You feel your face relax, and it only softens more when Astarions eyes meet yours once more and his pupils are blown . The softest smile blossoms on his face, which turns out to be contagious cause not soon after a cheek burning smile is on your face. Face hot as you look into his eyes, his hands still on your waist, thumbs massaging your skin through your dress. 

“I should take it off, I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

“Could you humor me?”

“Humor you? How so, Astarion?” 

“Keep it on, just for an hour. It’s been a long time since I spent an evening with a woman as beautiful as you..” 

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Imagine Astarion gifting Tav a dagger with the sentence “Ai armiel telere maenen hir.” carved into it. Tav not knowing any elvish thanks Astarion and asks what it means.

“Nothing special of course.” he smirks before leaning into Tavs ear and softly continues with“ it means you hold my heart forever.”

Tav beams with happiness and grabs his face.

“I’m quite fond of you too.”

Astarion rolls his eyes but a smile tugs at his lips as Tav presses multiple kisses on his forehead.

[transglennder]

My anemic ass is NOT surviving Baldurs Gaye 3 😭🤣🤣🤣🩸🩸🩸🩸🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

[sadasch]

Durge love

(Study)

[skeletonxqueen]

I have this headcanon (or rather something I want to write but don’t have the time rn) for my Tav that’s like, they’ve picked up a sense of when Astarion is lying or trying to be flippant or “I’m so funny and flamboyant” his way out of being uncomfortable in a situation with them, because it’s become super obvious to them when he doesn’t want to do something or isn’t sure, because it’s just in his eyes. His eyes are so expressive and they go super guarded and almost cold. So they’ll just like…touch his face, or caress his cheek just under his eye in a way that says like, I know that isn’t true, what’s actually going on in that head of yours. And he just like…sighs and admits what’s wrong.

Yeah anyways

[saintbarou]

𝐂𝐇. 𝚶𝐍𝚬: 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

tags: no warnings, sfw, fem reader, reader is a cleric, very self indulgent, in game spoilers and hints of astarion's story. let me know if i missed something.

taglist: @allright @p00pdev1l @ghostbeam - let me know if you want to be tagged!

synopsis: the first time astarion truly lets his gaze settle on you and he finds he likes what he sees.

The first time Astarion saw you he didn’t take note of your appearance, he found he was too busy putting a knife to your throat. When the night on the beaches settles and he lays awake by the fire as you get prepared to rest, sanguine eyes watch you carefully as you unroll the bedding on the soft flat dirt. Your hair that you wear tied and away from your hair is half undone, the two braided front pieces flowing in crippled waves from your shoulder to your chest. Your modest and plain clothes don’t  take away from the spring-like beauty you bare. Astarion knows a pretty face when he sees one, and he could admit that as he watched you that you had a fine face.

Your nose is distinct, he can see the small bump on its ridge and finds it charming - same with the smallest induction of a childhood scar on the right side of your nose bridge. There’s a faded, paler pink scar on the corner of your lips and your eyes are framed by wisps of lashes. Shadowheart calls your name, you two girls have developed a kinship in your shared roles as clerics, and Astarion finds himself charmed by the small mole on the hollow of your cheek. You are rather pretty; in the delicate way that finches and buttercups growing through the cobblestone are pretty. Shadowheart says something that makes you smile, you bid her goodnight and Astarion’s gaze then settles on a smaller mole tucked behind the line of your jaw.

His lip twitches, he’s found two already - how long would it be before he finds what other moles, scars and birthmarks that are thrown across your body like an artist flicks paint off their brush onto a canvas.Red eyes wander from your form and lets the path of the where the moonlight shines guide them until they have done a full scope of the area that is light by both the fire and the milk light of moon. The crimson makes its way back to you, only to freeze.

Your arms are bent over your head as your fingers undo the headpiece around your head. More hair, long and shining like expensive silk in the firelight falls around your shoulders. It curls and waves, he can see glints of warmer colors in the strands of your hair. Something to be envious of - how effortless you are in the simplest of movements, you throw your head back to make all your hair fall down one side to let your fingers cob through the length gently. Your head is tilted to the left, eyes downcast and just as your finger breaks through a small knot in your hair -

You meet his gaze.

The flirtatious smile that blooms on his face is near instinctual, and he can’t help but laugh a little at the look on your face. Wide-eyed and lips parted in a sweet, little, flustered gasp. If Astarion was closer he bets he could see the warmth rush to your face. There’s something that lurches in his mind, some tucked away anxiety over even that being too forward for you. Being with you for a few days has already shown him the cards of your person, you are timid and demure. Warm from the heart to your outer self and put all sorts of effort into keeping others happy.

The defining picture of a maiden is exactly what you are and Astarion has drunk from similar goblets before but he finds none where as sweet as you. You smile back, shaky and wobbling in a way that makes him duck his head to snicker at your expression. Such a cute thing you are, the men in the taverns he used to prowl at would eat you alive.

Maybe even he would, if he had the freedom to return you in one piece. His lip tugs down in a sort of frown before his gaze like a moth to a flame lands on you again. The cover of your bed roll is to your waist, and others are asleep but you are still awake. Looking back at him, he sees you attempt to raise your hand in a brief wave. He returns, waiting eagerly for what it is you want.

Astarion almost snorts, when you obviously mouth the word “Goodnight.” to him, moving your lips so he can see how your teeth clink against each other to emphasize the t in the word. He mumbles it back and half waves, letting his hand fall limp when he sees you smile again. It’s softer, more natural and fits across the plains of your face so sweetly. You beam like the sun in midday despite it being well into nightfall ; Astarion can’t help but find it charming, despite the naivety of it all and likens the stars in the sky to the way the embers of the fire glow in your eyes.

It would worry him usually when sweet things show such kindness to men like him but then again, if Astarion plays his cards right…there won’t be other men like him. He huffed a laugh that the cool midnight breeze carries to you as you tuck your head into your bed roll. It makes you flush, presses your head deeper into the rather comfortable covers to hide the warmth of your ears. Astarion is the last thing you see before you sleep and the last thing you hear.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

I have a request for Astarion ! What if reader is usually the one being seduced by Astarion (because that's how he is) but reader one day does the very chivalrous hand kissing to Astarion after maybe protecting him from an enemy?

Rizz if you will.

It's Called Chivalry, Darling

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion makes a point to be chivalrous so you return the favour to distract him from being worried.

warnings :talk about weapons and fighting, reader gets hurt.

a/n: thanks sm for your request :). i tried my hardest to execute this idea, i hope you like it anon :0 (i have not played baldurs gate)

“I think we could stock up there. ” You point to a row of buildings, signs practically unreadable, grabbing the attention of the others in your group. They all hum in agreement before heading off in their own directions. The only store you assume you’ll be needing is a general store, so you head in that direction. 

You reach for the handle but someone else's hand beats you to it, pulling it open for you. Turning to look, you make eye contact with the ever handsome Astarion, smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Why’re you opening the door for me? What do you want?” You point an accusatory finger in his face, causing him to chuckle. His laugh is so soft it almost makes you drop your finger. 

“It’s called chivalry, my dear. You aren’t familiar?” He follows behind you as you enter the store, rolling your eyes at him. The store is mostly empty, besides a few men looking through the wares available. But even with all the open space for him to walk, Astarion seems to tail you as if the store is crowded. 

“Ooh get some more of that stuff, remember you used it on me? It made that cut on my arm feel like nothing.” He points from behind you at a healing balm in a small, glass jar. You stop in your tracks to grab it, causing Astarion to push into your back, and you look back at him with a confused stare. 

“Why’d you stop? ” His brows are furrowed, face close to yours.

“Why are you walking so close to me?”

“I just can’t stand to be far from you, my love,” He places his hand on his chest dramatically, voice incredibly theatrical as if he wasn’t already dramatic enough. You're sure that people in the store are shooting glances your way but, unusually, you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when Astarion is looking down at you with playful eyes and a giddy smile on his face. He looks so sweet like this, so free of worry and attitude, his guard is down. But you can't let him realize your thoughts, so before he could even notice your staring you force your face to remain as stoic as before.

You once again roll your eyes then continue your search for anything the group may need. Once you finish you head towards the door, making a point to open the door for yourself which causes Astarion to grunt in disapproval. 

The group finds each other once more and you head out of town, fully prepared for what might be ahead. At least that's what you think, maybe a stupid thought considering you're never truly safe on this perilous journey.

As you travel along the trail, your group seems to split off into its own smaller groups. Whispering and laughing with eachother, making far too much noise in your opinion. And Astarion, slowly trickling from the front all the way to the back where you're walking, finds his place beside you. 

“Why do you always walk so far towards the back? That’s a dangerous position for someone as small as you, no one to keep you safe from behind.” He chuckles to himself as he notices your brows furrow. 

“There’s nobody to annoy me either.” His hand flys to his chest, pretending to be hurt once more, his pace faltering ever so slightly then catching up with you again. 

“Ouch. How you wound me so with your cold words darling.” 

“Astarion, if you wish to accompany me in the back I’d appreciate if..” Your sentence is cut off with a yelp of surprise as you trip over a dip in the road, stumbling forwards. But you don’t fall very far, Astarion’s hand gripping onto your wrist and pulling you towards him. Your chest hits his, and you take a moment to regain your bearings before taking a step away from him.

He raises your hand, still in his grip, up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles, “You must be more careful, darling. Don’t want you getting hurt.” 

You know your face is pink, you can feel it, and the smirk on his face solidifies your worry, but you remain composed and give him a simple nod as you pull your hand away. 

“Shall I hold your hand to ensure you don’t trip again?”

“In your dreams, fangs.” He smiles, it's always so soft during these moments, and the sight alone almost causes you to take back your words and give in to his offer, but you stand your ground and keep your hands close to your hips. Astarion lets out a small laugh at this.

You continue to walk in peaceful silence, Astarion making small quips so the air is never truly silent around you. You've come to realize that Astarion can't stand silence whenever he's around you, and he makes a point to keep the noise level up. But when his tone shifts, and he becomes quieter, you take a peak around. You notice that the group is much closer than before but you don’t mind. Safety in numbers and what not. 

But something feels off. It’s eerily quiet. Not even the whistle of a bird and you swear the wind has stopped entirely. And you think the rest of your group notices as well, perhaps the reason that they had moved closer was so they wouldn’t be caught off guard. Their hands stay on their weapons ready to take them out. 

And then it happens. A group of goblins jump from the surrounding forest and circle around your party. Usually something as small a threat as a goblin would be no problem but in such large numbers they might prove to be a problem. When they initiate a fight, thrusting their blades towards you, you draw your blade. 

Slowly, you pick off goblins, one by one. They’re stronger than you expected and their weapons are much nicer than the ones you had encountered in the past. But you keep your guard up and they’re unable to land a blow on you. It’s when the amount of goblins in front of you is reduced that your guard is let down even the slightest. And your focus shifts. Not the smartest move.

You look around you, realizing that Astarion is no longer by your side.

In your state of distraction, a goblin is able to strike you, leaving a relatively large cut on your arms and cutting the arm of your shirt into a tattered piece. The pain causes you to refocus for a moment, just enough to kill the goblin before you look back towards Astarion.

When your eyes reach his position, your heart drops to your stomach. He is completely surrounded and you're certain that he is unaware just how shitty his situation is. So without a second thought, you leave the goblins in front of you behind, and rush over to him. 

Swinging your blade with as much force as you can muster, you kill the goblins behind him and grab his wrist to pull him out of his unfortunate position. You kill another, after ensuring he is no longer in the way. The two of you pick the goblins off together, standing back to back. And when the fight is over you finally allow yourself a moment to breathe. 

But it doesn’t last long. 

Astarion pushes at your shoulder, causing you to stumble forward, you hardly catch yourself but you do. When you’ve found your footing you straighten up, turning to him with furrowed brows, “What was that for?” 

“Why would you do that?” His tone is so aggressive it catches you off guard, “You could’ve gotten hurt! How could you be so irresponsible? Look at your arm, Gods!"

He holds your arm in his hands, hesitating for a moment before ripping off a piece of his own shirt. Gently, he pushes the arm of your shirt up to uncover your wound and begins to wrap the piece of cloth around the wound with shaky fingers, muttering curse words under his breath.

“You could’ve been killed Astarion! I would’ve gladly gotten hurt in order to prevent that.” You try to keep your cool. The pain is hardly noticeable with the amount of adrenaline pumping through your body. And you honestly find yourself more worried about him being angry with you Obviously, he’s yelling in your face, but it might just be shock getting to him. 

“Why would you do that for me? That is absolutely ridiculous.” He huffs, throwing his hands in the air, then allows them to fall back down to his sides. And an idea suddenly enters you brain. 

Slowly, with caution to not annoy him further, you reach for his still shaky hand. He stares at you, brows furrowed, but he doesn’t pull away. Gently, you place your lips against his bloodied knuckles, making an effort not to hurt his already irritated skin.

“It’s called chivalry, Astarion. You aren’t familiar?” You notice the smallest change in his eyes as they soften, even a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He isn’t mad, just worried. And you know that all the annoyance has fled his body at your attempt to make fun of him and his flirtatious remarks. Honestly, he's a little flattered you remember what he said, and flustered from you playing his own game against him.

You take a step closer, placing a hand on the side of his face to pull him in closer, to plant a soft kiss to his cheekbone. His curls touch your fingertips, and you take the opportunity to play with his soft hair for a moment. When you pull away, a pink tint lingers on his skin, allowing color to flow on his beautiful face. “You know I don’t want you getting hurt.”

This time he lets out a soft laugh, “That’s enough, darling. I understand what you’re doing, you can stop mocking me.” He turns away from you, but you rush to his side, wrapping your hands around his arms. You lean into him, resting your head near his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Shall I hold onto you so you don’t trip, my dear?” You mock his usual flirty tone, and he pushes your head away gently in an attempt to hide the color rushing to his face, ruffling your hair up.

“What, I'm not allowed to flirt with you but you can do it to me?”

"That's exactly right, my dear."

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

PLS YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE FICS ABOUT ASTARION the one you did was so good and cute ☹️☹️ i love it

Let Me Clean Your Wounds

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : a long week of hard work leaves your party tired and injured. you offer to clean astarions and to your surprise, he accepts.

warnings : talk about blood.

a/n : thank you anon :0 i STILL have not played baldurs gate (so i apologize again for my lack of knowledge).

It had been an incredibly long week. 

It started by someone in the party pointing out that you had no more money left. So you had to spend your days doing odd jobs for people in the nearby town. 

However, a few of them had failed to mention the fact that their job requests could end up harming you in more ways than one. An easy job, like gathering fruit for an old lady who can’t venture out that far anymore, suddenly turned into fighting a hag in the woods for trespassing on her property. 

The compensation received was hardly enough for the injuries you and your party would gather on your bodies throughout the day. 

As powerful as your group was, being caught off guard by some giant creature in the woods left you at a disadvantage. And when calmly mentioned to the people of the village, suggesting that their pay be higher for sending you to do such strenuous tasks so they wouldn’t be attacked themselves, they threw their arms up to you. 

Calling you greedy and saying you were trying to steal their gold. Of course that didn’t sit well with the nearby guards, and while jumping to conclusions without any investigation, you were thrown in a cell. Not all your party, just you, as the leader. 

You weren’t released until a member of your party persuaded them, using the gold you had just earned from the townspeople’s ridiculous jobs. 

So you packed up your camp, and ventured out to find another village. One where you hadn’t been put behind bars for scheming and trying to steal gold from the elderly. 

When you found a nice spot, and a town that looked to have more than enough gold to go around, you set up camp in the nearby woods. The townspeople were less than friendly, but at least they were honest about their jobs. 

They made it abundantly clear that they would not be handing out charity and that you had to work for the gold you earned. That turned out to be a challenge after a few jobs had been completed , and it had clicked that your party has been consistently acquiring injuries over the last few days. 

Your party was down in power. You were lacking in energy, and it was showing in the way your attacks would fly but often miss or hit with not much force behind them. 

So after completing one last job, and buying some fresh meat from the town, you decided to rest. Finally caving into the exhaustion, you felt almost weak when Lae’zel complained about stopping. But nobody else seemed to have any complaints. 

Lae’zel was hasty to eat, along with almost everybody else in the party. They got a fire started and the warmth hugged your body, but while scanning over everyone’s face you realized just how rough your condition had become . 

Everyone seemed to be holding up all right, you weren’t too worried, but as you looked in closer you noticed Astarion was seated farther away from the fire picking at his skin. 

Curious, you left the warmth of the fire and wandered over to him. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

“No, well, not much. But I don’t think you’d listen if I said I did.” You shook your head at him before taking a seat beside him. 

His face was pretty bruised up, cuts on his cheek and lip. And his arms were covered with scratches that it was continuing to pick at. 

You took another glance before standing up and walking back over to your own tent to grab some bandages, your flask of water, and a rag of some sort to wipe his wounds. When you came back he stared at you with amusement in his eyes. 

“What exactly are you planning to do with all that, darling?” 

“You're covered in cuts, have to clean them up so they don’t scar your pretty face. Let me clean your wounds?” You tried not to let the pet name have any effect over you, but you were sure your thoughts were showing through your cheeks. His hand moved to touch his cheek, as if he didn’t believe that he truly did have any injuries, wincing as his finger brushed against a larger cut. 

“You’re seriously worried about me when you’re in the same condition? For the love of the gods , you were thrown in a cell this week and you're truly worried about some cuts on my cheeks?”

“May I?” You held the rag up in your hands, pouring some water over it. He nodded, hesitantly of course, but he allowed it anyway. 

Gently, you placed the dampened rag over his cuts, wiping away at the dried blood and layer of dirt covering his pale skin. His brows furrowed, the sight causing you to let out a giggle. Usually, Astarion was very closed off, so being this close to him and him allowing you to help him was sort of new to you. 

“Why are you laughing? I’m in pain and your ..giggling?” He tried to be stern and serious, his usual facade, but a small smile was playing at the corner of his lip.  

“I’m sorry,” You let out another giggle as you swiped away at his skin and his eyebrows furrowed once more, “It’s just cute, I’ve never seen your face scrunch up like that.”

He seemed to pause, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. You were being serious. You thought he was cute, when he was covered in blood and dirt. Him showing a little weakness , you thought it was cute? 

“What? I know my face is probably dirty.” You rubbed at your cheek with your free hand, conscious of your appearance as his gaze lingered on your face. He didn’t care though, he was too busy thinking about your words. 

“Cute is an absurd word to use when describing someone like me. I’m too handsome to be described in such ..simple terms.” His smirk returned to his face, your mouth now agape unsure of whether he was serious or not. 

“C’mon now Astarion, I never said you weren’t handsome. I just said you were cute with your face all scrunched up like that.” The rag sat in your lap, his face was clean, his cuts just needed a little cover up. 

“So you do think I’m handsome?” He leaned in closer , his voice captivating. 

“Well I never said that either.” You placed your hand on his chest to distance yourself , ripping off a piece of the bandaging in your hands and manipulating it into place on his cheek. 

He wore a subtle pout on his lips but when you moved in close and kissed his cheek, in a moment of boldness,  it soon fell away. 

Astarion’s hands brushed against your own, taking the damp rag and pouring more water onto the other unused end. 

“My turn, darling.” The rag, making contact with your skin, made goosebumps appear on your skin. It was colder than you expected, and you knew there had to be small cuts littering your face by the way it stung. Your face must have tensed because he took his turn to laugh at you. 

“You know, you are very beautiful, even with your face all scrunched up.” He was mocking you. obviously, but his voice mixed with his compliments made your cheeks flush. 

A final swipe along your cheek and he pulls the rag away, “There. All clean, my dear.” 

His hand reached out to cup your cheek, but before the act became too intimate, he changed his course and ran his hand along the side of your hair to flatten it down. 

“You really are quite pretty .” He knew his words had such a serious effect on you, as you never tried to hide the fact that your feelings for him were far from platonic interest. It was so weird seeing him be so friendly, and flirty in a way that wasn’t meant to manipulate.

“Would you stop? It’s not nice to tease y'know.” 

“And who told you I was teasing, my dear? Was it Lae’zel cause I’ve always thought she might have a thing for me.” He laughed at the end of his sentence, joking. “I would never tease a woman as pretty as you, that would be very cruel of me.” 

“Do you want to join me by the fire?” His gaze shifted to look at the group seated around the fire, he seemed to ponder before looking back at you with furrowed brows. 

“I can smell their horrible odor from here.” You huffed, pushing his shoulder. He looked once more, and seemed to ponder some more but his face was hard enough to read when he wasn’t looking away from you. 

Astarion groaned, ringing out the wet rag still sitting in his hands. “That is not an answer, Astarion. I’m cold, and the fire looks so nice.”

“Fine, if we must, we can go,” You smiled down at him as you stood but it was replaced with a look of shock when he pulled you to sit back down, “On one simple condition.” 

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want from me?” 

He stayed silent for a second, but as he noticed you becoming increasingly impatient he began to speak.

“A kiss. Not a petty one, and not on my cheek. I mean a real one.” You were flush in the face once more. He seemed totally serious, a permanent smirk painted on his face, but his eyes stared into your own without any sign of humor. You honestly thought he might be mocking you. 

“Okay. I can do that. Easy, but only if you’re nice and say please.” 

“Now who’s teasing.” You only stared at him, sternly. If he wanted to act like a child, and demand rewards in order to complete simple tasks, then you could tease him like one. “Fine. Please…pretty please.”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t think you had ever heard him say please to anyone, let alone add in a “pretty”.

 He didn’t move, he was entirely dead set on this. His face was close enough to yours that you didn’t have to shuffle very far. As gently as you could, in case he decided that he was joking and pulled away, you placed your hands on his face.

One hand cupping his cheek, fingertips rubbing at the hairs falling delicately in front of his ears, the other near the bottom of his cheek and holding onto his jaw. Slowly, you pulled him in until your lips met his. You still weren’t entirely convinced that he was serious, but when his fingers entangled in your hair and pulled you in deeper, you had a hunch that he might not be joking. 

He didn’t let you pull away until he was entirely satisfied. Your breath was heavy, and your skin was hotter than before in multiple ways. 

“I haven’t had a meaningful one in a long time, darling. Thank you.”

“Should we go sit by the fire?” You stood up, legs wavering before stiffening, and you offered him out your hand. He took it in his large one, following you to the fire, sitting beside you. There was a heavy silence, causing you to look around and see everybody's eyes already on you. 

“What?”

“If you guys are gonna keep sucking each other's faces, could you please do it in a tent? You made me lose my appetite.”

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could write an Astarion x reader where Astarion cant go under sunlight yet he misses it so much. And maybe he comes across the reader who’s soaking in the sun and he admires them and then later he tells them that he misses the warmness of the sunlight and the reader cups his cheeks with their hands, letting Astarion feel the warmness that was left by the sun on the readers skin. Idk if this makes any sense but it’s a cute concept in my head 😭🫶🏻💕 thank you!!

You Are the Sun to Me

pairing : astarion x (female) reader

summary : astarion watches as you do the thing he longs to do the most, bask in the suns warmth. you allow him to feel it through your skin.

When you arrived in Baldur's Gate you figured your life would be different. And when you killed Cazador with Astarion by your side, you were sure that nothing would ever negatively affect the two of you again. So when the time came to defeat the elder brain, you were happy and excited. 

But when you found out that Astarion’s tadpole was no longer protecting him from the sun, your heart broke. Aching for the young man, the two of you fled from the city. He liked life on the road more anyways and you were willing to sacrifice the city for the wellbeing of your only love. 

Besides, camping around had its perks. Astarion was usually in charge of picking a spot for the night, and thankfully his taste was unmatched in everything he did. He always managed to find the most beautiful scenery. 

“I could never allow my lover to sleep on some shabby deer path, or in a smelly bog. What kind of man would I be? I know you’d enjoy a spot with a beach so much more,” He would say the most convincing words, kissing your hands, when you tried to convince him the spot you had first found was going to be fine. He would have no such thing, wouldn’t even humor your idea.

And of course, he was right, as he always was. When he finally picked a spot, a large open space for your tent and fire, and the defining feature, a river cut off from the world by a line of trees. It was like the world had put it there for the two of you alone, and he knew exactly where to find it. 

Throughout the day, when Astarion would spend his time reading inside of the tent to hide from the light, you would sneak off to the nearby river bank. 

With your clothes thrown haphazardly along the shore, you would lay in the sand and bask in the heat of the sun's light. It was your time to yourself, to relax, a time when you could let your guard down.

But Astarion had always been one to take advantage of an unsuspecting eye. So while you lay, with your eyes closed, relaxed in the sun's light. He would watch from the tree line, pupils wide with adoration.

A part of him was filled with envy of your ability to lay so freely in the sunlight. Another part was saddened to think that he would never be able to feel its warmth against his skin any longer. As bad as it was to have his mind violated by the tadpole, he missed the sun more than he had the first time. With the tadpole he had gotten another taste, but he never would again. 

Within all of his anguish, Astarion still found himself able to look at your figure taking in the sunlight, and still find your beauty of far more importance. It was hard to be envious of such a beautiful creature. 

“Astarion?”

Startled by your voice, he snaps out of his trance, and finds your eyes. 

“Sorry my love. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Just wanted to appreciate the scenery.” He settles his arm against the tree beside him to hold him up as he converses with you from afar. 

Slowly, you stand up to walk over to him with wobbly legs, tingly from not walking. 

“I can come back to camp if you want. I just need a moment.” 

“No no. Enjoy the sun.” Your heart aches once more as you see a sudden sadness glaze over his eyes, his lips purse as he holds back the emotions he truly feels. 

“Are you okay?” You approach his body now, standing under the darkness of the trees, hands reaching up to hold his face in the warmth of your hands. His face lifts, cheek pushing against your hand as he tries to get closer to the heat.

“You're so warm, my dear.” His cold fingers land atop your hand, a heavy contrast against the heat you had collected from the sun, “I miss this feeling.”

He feels his eyes begin to collect water but he swallows back any sadness, choosing to indulge in your warmth. You pull him into your body, his hands reaching around to feel at your back. Even though you had been laying on your back it was still warm, far warmer then his hands which sent a shiver up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You place your face into his neck, gently kissing his collarbone and neck.

“For what, darling?” 

“You’ll never get to walk in the sun again.” Your own eyes start to brim with tears, empathetic for his inability to feel the sun. He pulls away just enough to look down at you, slender fingers playing with the flesh on your waist.

Slowly he lifts his hands to wipe away stray tears sliding down your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, “As far as I’m concerned I never need to walk in the sun again while I have you on my side, my dear. You are the sun to me. You give me all the warmth I need, and your smile, gosh, I don’t think the sun could match how it brightens my day.”

His words send heat to your cheeks, which he takes advantage of by placing his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in to kiss your lips gently. 

“We could come back out when the moon is over us. Moonbathe, no sun needed.” He chuckles at your attempt to reconcile the fact that he can’t join you as you sunbathe.

“I would love nothing more.” 

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hello! I hope you've had a nice day:)

🤭I really love your works! Could you write an Astarion fic where the (GN) reader is equally as flirty as he is? For example, reader and Astarion being the only ones awake in the night and all in all- just flirty talk.

(Not implying anything but.. Hypothetically. Hypothetically speaking, you could sprinkle in some spicy stuff too)

I'm sorry if that's not your thing! Feel free to ignore this 🧡

Leave You Speechless

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : while you keep watch over camp, a boring job, astarion keeps you company by the fire

warnings : tiniest bit sexual towards the end but nothing NSFW, PG 13 at best.

a/n : i kinda love this, loved the idea, hope i did it justice.

Sparks flew from the wood of the fire, landing in front of your leather adorned feet. You hadn’t bothered to take off your equipment when you returned to camp, and the party seemed to take this as a sign that you wanted to be on watch for the night. You didn’t, of course, but who are you to deny your duty. Everyone else did it, your turn was inevitable. You just wished it wasn’t so boring. 

You picked at the fabric of your bedroll, fire crackling in the silence of the night. Maybe Halsin was awake? Or Astarion? Perhaps Gale was awake and he could keep your company with his magic.

“Well..don’t you look happy..” Your eyes flicker up to meet a pale face, red eyes creased in amusement, a small smirk playing at his lips. Of course he would be awake, only to annoy you. He takes no time to sit beside you, attentive to your features, his gaze never leaving your eyes.

 “Careful darling, if you keep your eyebrows creased so angrily, you’ll get wrinkles.” His comment only makes you scrunch your face up more, a slender finger poking at the wrinkle between your eyebrows. 

Without much thought you take your own finger and poke it in between his eyebrows, “You should take your own advice Astarion, clearly you’ve been angry a lot over your lifetime, aged quite poorly.” He scoffs, and for a moment he doesn’t say anything, speechless at your insult. 

“Please..I have no wrinkles, I cannot age , don’t be stupid.” He pulls his finger away from you, now feeling at his own face, clearly you’ve struck an insecurity. 

You feel your eyes roll at his antics, “ Cut it out with the dramatics, Astarion. I only tease. You should know how beautiful you are, I would expect as much from your vanity.” You throw a small piece of wood on the fire, looking away from him.

“Of course I know.. I just love the way it sounds coming from your lips,” You shoot him a look. You weren’t unfamiliar with his flirting, in fact it wasn’t the first night that he had managed to wriggle his way by your side. Though this night would surely be the same, he would flirt with you till the son came up and you would pretend not to enjoy his company. God forbid he ever found out how much you truly enjoyed being around him, let alone that your feelings for him were more than platonic. 

“Then perhaps I should compliment you more often then?” Astarion seems to be pulled towards you, shuffling closer to your side, intrigued by your willingness to comply with his flirtatiousness. “Oh..but then..I would never wanna inflate that unfortunate ego of yours..my love.” A soft poke on his nose, and his eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. 

He huffs, “You tease too much. You’ll admit you’re in love with me soon enough.” 

“In love with you,” a scoff falls from your lips, and you're sure your annoyance sounds more superficial than you would’ve wished, “now you’ve started fabricating my feelings in your head? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the one in love with me, not the other way around.”

“A shame your intelligence is rather lacking, or else you’d know better. You see through me transparently, darling.” He’s so close to you, a tease with intent to deceive and lower your guard, and you almost fall for it. 

You push him away with your elbow, only hard enough to get his face away from you, but his body stays close. “What is it that you're trying to gain here, Astarion?” The tone you carry your words with seems to jab into his skin, the way he recoils away from you makes you almost regret it.

“Ughh..a moment ago you were referring to me as ‘my love’ and now you speak my name in such a sullen tone,” his slender fingers move to grasp at your own, you don’t pull away though you wish you would, “why must you deny me?” 

He brings your hand up to his lip delicately, not wanting to startle you, as if you were a scared animal and you might run away at any moment. Though, you realized, that depiction might not be entirely untrue. You allowed it, breath hitching as his soft lips made contact with your knuckle, curving upwards in the gentlest of smiles. 

“There..much better,” another gentle kiss, to each and everyone of your knuckle, “I like you much better when you're not arguing with your infatuation.” 

“I like you much better when your mouth is occupied.”

“Perhaps we can find a way to occupy it then?” He’s staring up at you, pleading through his lashes, with your hand still limply held in his hand. He won’t let go, not even if you denied him now, he wouldn’t let go. His fingers are entangling themselves in yours, squeezing down. 

“You’re absurd.” 

“And you’re breathtaking...” It silences your voice completely, and his grip on your hand seems to tighten. 

The world around you seems to take a pause along with you, the wind ceases to blow, holding its breath alongside you. There is no wildlife trilling or chirping anymore, silencing themselves to offer Astarion and you a full stage to yourselves. Even the snores, soft and aggressive from either side of the camp, go silent. They’re being blocked out, your head filled with Astarions image, your ears filled with the sound of his breathing. And your eyes, occupied by the way his tongue pokes out to swipe against his bottom lip, the way his own eyes dart along your face to analyze your features, the way his hand twitches in your own when your lips puff out. 

In a moment of distracted, thoughtless boldness, too bold for your own good, fiendish desperation controlling your actions in full, your free hand moves to grasp onto the side of face to pull him in closer. He moves, under your control fully, pupils blown out in arousal. But then you hesitate, and his face becomes still in front of yours, lips hovering against each other. You let out a huff at your actions, disappointed in the way you must constantly fight against your desires, the air caught in your throat is released in a heavy sigh against his lips. 

“It’s not like you to be so undecided..” His breath is feverish and heavy, tickling against your skin, his lips brushing against your own with every syllable. He is pleading with his eyes, fingers twitching against your own once more, too excited to control his own movements. 

“Not like you to be so,” Before you can utter a rebuttal your words are cut short, Astarions lips finally connect to your own. Clearly he has grown impatient, and it shows in the way his fangs nip at your lips, begging for entrance. You allow it, his tongue passes your lips to wrestle with yours, and a whimper vibrates through him leaving your head spinning. If it wasn’t for his grip on you, you would’ve fallen over. 

He places one hand behind your body, using his own to push you down against your bedroll, without releasing your lips once. With hesitation he separates from you, breath heavy once more. Distracted, he doesn’t look at you, his fingers tracing along your waist until he meets the waistline of your leather pants.

“For once, darling, I would love to leave you speechless and not the other way around..allow me, won't you?” .” He smirks, looking up at you now with a mischievous glint in his eyes, fingers playing with the zipper of your pants. 

“Gods you’re annoying..” You shoot him a glare, though you doubt it’s very menacing judging by the way your breath hitches and your cheeks are absolutely flushed, he tugs at the waistband pulling your leather pants down to your mid thigh. 

But then you regain your edge, “Say please, and then maybe, I’ll allow it.” You place your hand back on his cheek, holding his face up, and the way he leans his cheek deeper into your hand almost makes you crumble again. 

“Please, darling, pretty please..let me touch you.”

“That’s very good, my love.” You try to hide the way your breath leaves your lips in a shaky wave as you nod for him to proceed. He wastes no time as your pants are suddenly pulled down and off, Astarion climbing back up your legs. 

His lips tug into a smile, lowering his head between your thighs, and you let out a whine as his teeth connect with the skin of your inner thigh. When he looks up to you, through the strands of his curls that have fallen in front of his face, a thin line of blood coats his lip. The way his tongue licks it away, sends a shiver through you.

And the look he gives you, worship heavy in his eyes, makes you aware of just how long this night is going to be for you. 

[fangsyouverymuch01]

‼️Thought of something sickeningly sweet‼️astarion x durge ‼️

Imagine durge catching a glimpse of Astarions embroidery on his shirt back in act 1. “Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums” it reads.

After durge refuses to kill Isobel, durge is forced to kill the one they love most. Astarion manages to tie durge up, but durge is left with feelings of extreme guilt and gratitude for Astarion managing to pull them out of the darkness. Durge decides to show their gratitude by picking up their sewing skill to make a present for him.

After days of practicing and earning several sore fingers in the process, durge is finally done. Durge sneaks into Astarions tent, suddenly feeling apprehensive about their present.

“Darling, you nearly bit my neck off the other day, now is not the time to get shy hm?” he smirks.

Durge hands Astarion the present and rambles about it not being nearly enough in comparison to the other night. Astarion glares at the present in his hands, a leather embroidered holster with the quote “I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched" stitched on the inside.

“Never have I felt so afraid as the other night, I think you are the first person to show me kindness and to think I almost lost that-“ durge tells him but tears turns their confident words into a bare whisper.

Astarion looks dumbfounded, his confident smirk gone, “You did this for me?” the elf squeezes out and trails his agile fingers over the text. Next thing durge knows, both of them are holding each other, a collective mess. Astarion is the one to break the hug, pressing a kiss to durges forehead and offers a genuine “Thank you” with his signature smile. “I’m glad you liked it” durge smiles back.

[skeletonxqueen]

Thinking about the idea of an angsty-ish fic (maybe act 2 maybe act 3 whatever) of like. Tav has told Astarion already that like, sex isn’t important to them in a relationship with him and they’ll give him whatever space he needs with that and just want him (ya know, as ya do) but naturally years of trauma and tactical manipulation, he’s just like. Waiting for the moment Tav presses him about it (not like some of the fics I’ve seen about the Halsin situation where he’s like oh yeah I have sex with him since I can’t give you that)

But the kind of anxiety one gets specifically when they aren’t used to good things. Good things are short and bittersweet and always followed by calamity. When will the reprieve end? Is this some kind of really long and drawn out manipulation on Tav’s part? They’re lying right? They don’t actually MEAN it.

Just like. A character study kind of vibe. Some angst (and fluff nice ending dialogue because I’m a SUCKER) but just a reflection of how (I know I and other people have experienced trauma in relationships) if somethings too good to be true, of COURSE it is. And it’s easier to be the one being mean and pushing away to protect yourself before someone else can compromise you like that again.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

A Noble Woman

pairing : noble!astarion x (fem)reader

summary : you have always dreamed of being a noble, he wishes to fulfill this dream.. albeit it through force and bribery.

warnings : alcohol, drugging, emetophobia.

As a young girl, running free through the streets of Baldur's Gate, your parents filled you with the rules to survive. Be wary of strangers, be compliant when faced with the law, stay out of trouble. But most importantly, being surrounded by lords and dukes all residing in their towers and palaces, you were taught respect. That is, to keep your head down as you passed their residencies, taught not to let your real thoughts about the nobility slip out from behind clenched teeth. They were important and you were to treat them that way. 

You were born modest. Your parents were never struggling but you certainly weren’t living lavishly. There was never quite enough money left for anything fun at the end of the month. No money for you to frolic around in fancy dresses. But still you grew to be spoiled. You were enraptured by the importance of nobility, how could status make someone so scary that no one would even mutter a word of insult behind their backs? You didn’t know. But you craved to know. You craved to feel important. To sit in your giant palace and stare over the people of Baldur's Gate, to be loved by the masses, for the people to be scared of you 

In the beginning, they indulged you, believing that this obsession with lavish living would pass. But as you grew older, your parents became fearful that your attitude of self-importance was not so much a childhood phase but rather a permanent mindset. Your respect for them, or more honestly everyone, was dwindling. 

You became rather conceited. In a way that benefited you. Your parents were dull, and were no longer putting up with your tiresome behavior, so you became fairly independent. It was your own way of preparing yourself for nobility, you saw it as making up for the laziness you would lose yourself in after taking a seat on a throne. 

Years passed and you grew into yourself, you would no longer lower your head when passing by large castles and palaces but would instead stare longingly. Hoping to catch a glimpse of any sign of life, any sign that this life was achievable. On occasion you would approach the gates, letting your hands rest on the iron bars keeping you out. The smell of metal often lingered on your finger tips. 

You would no longer talk quietly when discussing the nobles, in fact you would often raise your voice and talk as if you were untouchable. A bad habit that could easily get you killed, but you paid no mind. 

In all your years of fascination, you realized, you had never truly seen any of the nobles that interested you. You only knew of their names. Only read about them in the tabloids, which most spoke of misinformation and rumors. Easily dismissed rumors, but they entertained you nonetheless. 

The lord that interested you the most, the one who’s palace you longed to take for yourself, was a man’s. The thought of a man sitting on a throne that would one day belong to you was the root of your annoyance, always. “No man is deserving of such things”, you would speak to your friends freely whilst they hushed you and peered around anxiously, in fear of Cazador Szarr. You assured them time and time again that nothing was going to happen to you. 

“One of these days, someone is going to hear you and report back to him. He will come for you, and what will you do then?”

“Please. The lords are no threat, let him come. Besides, I’ve never even seen him leave that place.” You let out an amused chuckle as your friend's eyebrows furrow, “I hear rumors, that Cazador is a vampire.”

“Lower your voice.. if he was, shouldn’t that make you more afraid?”

“Afraid of a bat in a man's body?” The idea has you laughing. 

“I wish you’d be more careful, especially with your words.” 

“No one ever got anywhere being careful.” You roll your eyes, suddenly bored of the conversation. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing at attention, the feeling of someone's eyes on you is swimming through you. But when you look around to find the eyes, you are left with nothing and the feeling disappears. You think nothing of it, the feeling slips from your insatiable mind and you're already thinking of something else. 

That night, when your friends say their goodbyes, their speech is wobbly and mushed together. Or maybe, it’s not so much that they are speaking strangely, but rather that you have had far too much to drink and your head began spinning near hours ago. You were never a heavy drinker, and you were entirely uncertain how you managed to become so woozy from a few drinks.

You have not moved from your seat, you are scared that if you stand you will make a fool of yourself and stumble around until eventually you hit the floor. How will you become a noble woman if you are known as the nearest drunkard? 

So instead you stay seated, and you scan your surroundings, drunkenly of course. You search for anyone, or anything, that might ground you and help you to sober up enough to leave the bar. You swear your eyes are almost crossed from how blurry your vision has become, it is entirely too hard to focus on the people around you. But, your eyes find a resting place when they reach the bar and you realize that you are not the only one who has analyzed the bar. 

A man stands behind the counter. Brown hair. Fair skin. He’s tall, but not skinny tall, rather muscular, broad shouldered tall. His appearance alone has your stomach stirring with lust. 

Lust?

No. That couldn't be right. You never lusted after men. You would never allow yourself to lust after a man, noble or not. The only thing you felt lust for was power, wealth, and status. Not some average, stupidly attractive, barman. 

You glance down at your empty cup and the thought stirs in you that you had not ordered the last few drinks, nor had you gotten up to get them yourself. Were you seriously so engrossed in unnecessary gossip that you had drunk from the cup of a stranger?

Your head spins. The time feels so uncertain in your head, whether you have been staring at your cup for minutes or hours you are unsure. But your stomach is beginning to churn, not from lust, from fear. For the first time in your life you are willing to be dependent on someone, but everyone who you trust has left. A hand lands on the table in front of you, causing your eyes to avert from your cup up to the face of the barman. 

He speaks, but you hear no words. Your thoughts are loud. A look of hunger is overwhelming your features, you can show nothing else for that is all you feel. He wears a grin on his handsome, chiseled face. He asks a question, you think, and you find yourself naively nodding along to whatever he says. You hope that he has asked to take you home, undress you slowly, and bed you until you no longer wish to leave. 

And for a second, when he takes your hand in his much larger one, you almost think your hopes are reality. Your fingers play with his arms, his shirt, his hair. Your hands have run themselves over every part of his torso before you even made it out of the bar. He leads you behind the building, and the pool of lust in your stomach gravitates between your legs. You had never made love in public before. 

But suddenly your world is whirled around, quite literally, as he heaves you over his broad shoulders and begins walking. Your head is even heavier from this angle. You do your best to protest, but your arms only weakly make contact with his lower back. You try, you really try, to keep conscious. But eventually the darkness of the night is indistinguishable from the darkness of your closed eyelids, and you crash into heavy slumber. 

When you wake you are met with the coldness of cobblestone cellar flooring pressing against your face. The gravely texture scratches at your skin as you stir. It takes a minute for you to sit up, hands supporting your woozy body as you take in your surroundings. It’s dark, and cold. The only light is a torch mounted on the wall outside of your cell. 

Your cell. 

You realize all too suddenly that you are trapped between cobblestones walls and iron bars. The lit hall on the other side is taunting you, though it doesn't look very free either. Panic settles in your stomach, and you feel your exciting night of drinks retreating from your stomach. The contents of your stomach decorate your cell floor now, spit falls to your chin which you wipe away with the back of your previously manicured hand. Steps echo as they approach.

“Ah.. good morning, pet. It seems we need to get you cleaned up, yes?”

Your eyes take a moment to focus on the figure standing in front of the bars. It's a man. Tall and thin. His figure alone would have you assuming he stood the same as your family. Modest. He did not fit the stereotype of fat and overfed. But the fabrics decorating his body, the fanciest and finest you ever seen this closely, had you sure he was a wealthy man.

You move your thoughts along to meet his face.

His hair white and curly, curling around his ears. An elf, you assume by the size of his ears. The light is reflecting off his pale skin from beside him. His face is pointed, and he looks down at you with an amused smirk.

It has you blood boiling when you remember the position you're currently seated in. You stand on wobbly knees, approaching the bars with unprecedented speed.

He merely steps back when your hands reach through the space between. 

“Let. me. out of here!” You lunge for him again, but it only earns you a sore shoulder. 

‘“Atatat..” He clicks his tongue at you, mocking you with his eyes, “Not very ladylike are you.. for a girl who wishes to rule.” He watches intently as your face contorts through fear, and anger and finally rides out into the stillness of someone who has practiced her poker face for years. 

You breathe heavily, trying to keep a steady rhythm of air through your nose, “Who are you?” You know it’s not working by the way his gaze remains transfixed on you, amused, like you are here for his own personal entertainment. He knows you're scared, he can see right through you. 

He doesn't reply, merely smiles. He points his finger to the crest decorating the arm of his tunic, the Szarr family crest. You fail to notice the splatters of blood that have been stained within the expensive fabric.

“Cazador.. I’m in the Szarr palace...” He seems to scowl at your voice, scoffing, as if he offended. Of what you are not immediately sure.

“No dear. My name’s Astarion,” He says it with flair, like you should be impressed by his title, “I’m afraid the Szarr palace is under new rule, I had to replace him because.. oh how did you put it.. no man is deserving of such things.” 

Your brow furrows at this, “You too are a man, are you not?” You take a step away from the bars, arms crossed defensively. In the back of your mind you want to scream and spit and gnaw at these bars until your teeth fall out but, while still thinking through the dizziness of being drugged, it is better if you remain stoic. Perhaps he will grow bored and let you return home. 

“I am no man.” He smiles, swiping his teeth across his teeth. Stopping at a particularly sharp tooth. It’s a fang. He closes his mouth but it doesn’t close the gate of thoughts that flood your brain in an instance. This man is not Cazador. But he is a vampire as the rumors claimed. You are going to die in the darkness of a clammy cellar, like a dirty mouse that has been trapped by a much bigger cat.

Your heart pounds, and with the way his eyes light up it almost feels like he hears it. 

“Don’t worry little mouse,” Your brows furrow once more, “I’m not going to eat you.. yet.”

“My family will come for me.” When the words leave your lips they are true and you are sure of it, but by the way his smirk seems to widen to an entertained smile your trust in the statement falters. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Would you like to see what your parents are doing right now? I can take you to them, if you promise not to run.” 

Staring into his eyes, approaching the bars once more, you search for any sign of deceit but you find none, so you nod with a heavy swallow. When his bony fingers reach to unlock the door, opening it for you to step out, you truly contemplate running. But when running through the odds in your head, they are not in your favor. You tried to remind yourself he was taking you to your parents as he wrapped his cold hand around your upper arm tightly, leading you like an animal in front of him. 

“Promise you'll be a good girl.” You sneer at him, pain flashing across your eyes as his fingers dig into your skin.

Begrudgingly, you nod your head, letting out a soft breath when his grip loosens. You can feel your pulse throbbing where his fingers have most likely left bruised circles. 

The pathway out of the palace cellar consists of dark, stone staircases, and a couple times you almost trip. It is during those times, and only those times, that you are thankful to have his grip holding you so tight. When you reach the top you expect light to flood your eyes, and you almost hope he will burst into flames from the sun, but no such light reaches your eyes. It is hidden behind curtains that have all been drawn closed, it spills out from the sides and it makes your heart drop to think you may never see it again. 

He leads you down a hallway where debris lines the floors. The carpets, all red, have all been stained with an even deeper red that has your stomach swirling nervously once more. You have to swallow down the acid that threatens to spill from the bottom of your stomach. If you weren't careful that could be your blood, decorating his disgusting carpets. 

You look up and see paintings lining the walls. They look expensive, or rather you think they might have looked expensive if they weren't sitting awkwardly on the wall with rips through them. One of a man with black hair, his eyes seeming to bore into your own as if he was alive, is decorated with blood. It’s practically shredded but for some reason his torso and face remain intact enough to be recognizable. Maybe Astarion has kept it as a reminder. 

Finally you reach a room, you're confused but you hear murmuring from inside so you reach for the door handle. But his hand catches your wrist before you reach it, letting go to put a finger to his lips. His voice is hushed, “quiet my little mouse.” But he motions for you to look through the crack of the door. You do. 

Inside your parents stand, nervously conversing. They're here. You almost rejoice, cry out in relief, but remain silent in fear of the set of teeth standing flush against your back. He’s so close you can feel his breath breeze against your ear. You look back to him, meeting his gaze but he shakes his head and turns your head back with his long finger against your chin. Their voices are hushed, sure, but you can still hear them clear enough to be disgusted. 

“I just… I don't know if I can do this to her, William.” Your mothers gaze is cast down, holding your fathers hands in front of her. He removes one from her grip to cup her cheek and force her gaze up. 

“Think of how good this will be for us. This money will ensure we never feel stress again my dear. Please.. Brenna, my love, she wants this, she has always wanted this. She will be happy here,” Your mothers gaze seems unsure at your fathers statements so he continues, “She will be, eventually.” 

You watch as your mother reaches towards the bed, lifting a dress made from a fabric you cant even recognize and she seems to ponder. ‘No mom. Say no.’ You plead silently, hoping that your mother-daughter connection can be strengthened in this moment more than it has ever been before. But you see it to be a pointless thought as a smile, albeit small, appears on her face. “Okay.. She is his.” 

Like a rock your stomach drops, you reach to burst into the room but Astarions grip returns to your arm, holding you in place. “Still think they will come for you?” He drags you along with him as he walks back down the hallway, leaving the door behind and, you realize, your parents forevermore. 

“You paid them off..” You push him, watching as he stumbles and lets his fingers fall from your arm. 

“It is not my fault your parents value money more than their own daughter.” His voice is sharp, and rises over you as his back straightens out. You're sure he isn’t even that much taller than you but his tone, and the way he holds himself make him tower over you, if not metaphorically. 

His statement is true, and that steadiness that you have been holding onto since you met his gaze is suddenly broken. Tears prick at your waterline. Your stubbornness has collapsed and it has you collapsing to the floor along with it. Your breath catches in your chest, and you try so hard not to let this display become more than it already has but you begin to cry. Like a child. Blubbering, shaky inhales, loud sobs echoing through the hallway. 

Astarion lowers himself to his knees in front of you, palm landing on your cheek to lift your eyes to him. “They might not see your value, but I do. You have wished to be a noble. A queen. A ruler. And I will make you one, my dear.” His hand is so much warmer than it had seemed in the dark, and you somehow feel worse as you stare into his crimson eyes. They are not comforting, he is not even trying. This is for his own personal gain. 

“I need someone to rule by my side,” He seems to squeeze out the words ‘by my side’ like he doesn’t believe it himself. But you are delirious. You have been drugged. Your parents have just abandoned you for money. You will never see your friends again. So you believe him, because it is the only thing that you can hold onto at this moment. His words, his hand against your skin, is the only thing keeping you from losing your mind further. 

“A noble?”

He has to hide the hunger that flashes across his eyes. This is easy. An easy game and he is winning it. You have basically already agreed already. He realizes at this moment that the weeks he spent observing you and having his people report your every move to him were not a waste. He has found the exact way to make you easy. You have fended for yourself the entirety of your teenage years, felt no consequence, you have no idea how to deal with not getting your way. But he has made it seem, somehow, that his way is the way you wish to live. You will agree. 

“Yes my dear. A noble. My queen. My lady. You will be mine.. won't you?”

A nod is all you can muster. 

“That's a good pet. You'll make such a pretty spawn for me."

[fangsyouverymuch01]

If walls could talk

‼️: You don’t have to have read the other parts to read this one!

Authors note: Finally it's here, part 3 of my series! This is my first time writing smut so please be kind and any advice is greatly appreciated.

Anyhow, the reader stuggles heavily in this part and I intend to have a more lighthearted part 4 and let our girl breathe.

Summery: Last nights endeavors are foggy and a certain vampire might be the key to unlock what exactly happened. Or show you if needed.

Paring: Astarion x durge, Astarion x tav

Word count: 2,7 k

Warnings: Smut!, Blood, Amnesia, Angst, Fluff (slight), Dark thoughts

Here are the other parts: Part 1. Part 2.

Enjoy <3

A throbbing headache flutters your eyes open. What happened and why does your head hurt? Pinching your nose bridge, your groan as you try to make out the surroundings. Taupe walls gently sway, and a whiff of earthy breeze hits your senses – your tent.

What happened last night?

Searching your throbbing cortex for answers, agitated voices behind the comforts of your tent interrupt you. 

“She’s been out for hours and you’re not answering any of our questions!”

“I’ve been on my very best behavior since we got here, why are you accusing me of doing something?”

The realization hits you - you were with Astarion last night. Fleeting images of his sharp fangs, the voice tempting you to carve into his skull, and your consciousness surrendering to oblivion all rush back into your memory.

“Maybe it’s because your tent strangely always seems to be empty in the middle of the night.” a female voice interjects, voice dripping in venom.

“Darling, I didn't know you looked for night visitors, all you had to do was ask.”

With wobbly legs you leave the quiet tent.. The warm sunlight greets your emergence, but unfortunately, the same warm welcome doesn't apply to your steadily growing headache.

“Good morning.” you mumble.

The group abruptly halts their conversation, analyzing your form as you emerge from the tent. Wyll takes the initiative, shattering the unspoken constraints that seem to have frozen the collective movement of the group. 

“Are you alright?” Wyll questions, eyes round with concern as he steps closer towards your tent. 

“Yes of course Wyll, why wouldn’t I be?”

Wyll seems to hesitate, carefully choosing his next words. “You’ve almost slept through the entire day and-” he pauses, circling back to Shadowheart for reassurance. 

“You’ve been screaming obscene things the last hours, about someone or something lurking in your soul and to embrace your blood…”

Your urge. 

“Gods, I must’ve had a nightmare or-.” you manage to squeeze out, heart pounding in your chest. 

A shiver of panic courses through you at your companions words. What if, in a moment of uncontrolled impulse, you harmed your companions? The fear tightens its grip, making you acutely aware of the potential danger concealed with your impulses. 

A thought flits into your mind - Did you hurt him?

Before considering the consequences of your next words, they are spilling out of your lips. “Astarion, did I hurt you last night?”

Once more, a tense hush descends upon the party, their movements freezing as if suspended in a moment of uneasy anticipation. Eyes dart away from you, now avoiding your gaze and converge on the pale elf positioned at the back of the group. Astarion, seemingly caught off guard, releases a small puff of air, his ruby eyes momentarily tracking the ground beneath your feet as he subtly closes the gap between the two of you.

"Hurt me?" he retorts, a smirk gradually forming on his lips. "No, I enjoyed myself thoroughly, dear."

There it is—the annoyingly smug smile, the annoying voice and the annoying comment that seems to mock your sincere question. However, in your annoyed state there is a rush of blood that hits your face, making you involuntary blush at the smug man's words. 

Karlach eyes Gale and Shadowheart beside her, a giggle threatening to escape the tieflings lips. Eyes brimming with glee she tries to whisper, but fails abysmally, as she leans in towards Shadowhearts pointed ear.

 “I told you, pay up!”

"Chk," Laezel interjects sharply, her voice cutting through the tension. "Are we done with all this bother, or should we endure further tales of your nocturnal endeavors?"

Her words, a blend of impatience and disdain, punctuate the moment, urging the party to move beyond the slight discomfort that hangs in the air. Gale seizes the opportunity by stepping between you and the rogue. 

“I’m glad we got everything sorted, though we have lost precious sun hours and the day still awaits.” the wizard says and gestures to the sun descending from its peak. “We should have an audience with Halsin and the other leaders at the groove about moving forward with the removal of our peculiar tadpoles.”

Gales' suggestion settles in the air, a collective agreement resonates through the party. The group disperses, each member silently retreating to their respective tents to collect the essentials needed for the discussion ahead.

Your gaze lingers on Astarion. He meets your glare with an arched eyebrow, his usual air of nonchalance seemingly disrupted by the intensity in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you turn away, determined to maintain a stoic exterior. 

His tricks and charm didn’t and would never work on you, or so you tell yourself at least. 

______________________________________________________________

Halsin, the venerable druid, steps forward, his demeanor a blend of wisdom and somber awareness. The party gathers around, listening intently as Halsin discusses the looming challenges that lie ahead. He speaks of the treacherous underdark and the perilous mountain pass, each word laden with the weight of the impending journey. Yet, amid the weighty deliberations, Halsin introduces a note of respite. 

"Before we delve into the challenges that await," he suggests, "let us take a moment to celebrate. The defeat of the goblin camp is no small feat, and it is only right that we acknowledge our victories."

The druids begin to prepare a modest feast meanwhile Laezel and Karlach take charge of arranging sturdy logs for seating around the central fire. Gale and Wyll offer their magical talents by conjuring small orbs of light that hover and cast a warm and enchanting glow. Even Shadowheart, who's usually more reserved, surprises the group by decorating the space with  a small collection of wildflowers she had quietly gathered during your travels.

While the party bustles around, setting up the camp for the night gathering, you find a moment to veer away from the preparations. A subtle pull guides you towards a blush red coloured tent - his tent. Exhaling, you prepare for the conversation ahead.

“Astarion, I think we need to talk.” you state as you catch a glance of yourself in a golden mirror placed on the elfs table beside the entrance.

You’d seen better days, hair strands wisping in the mild breeze and a slight sweat emerging from the rising anxiety pumping in your chest. 

The rogue swiftly unzips the tent and prompts you to enter. The atmosphere burdens your lungs with the unspoken tension as you prop yourself parallel to where Astarion sits. The elf soaks up your person, moving his gaze from your legs until they meet your orbs. Not wanting to feel the pulsing of your adrenaline coursing through your heart a moment longer than needed, you decide to cut through the tension, his eyes steadily maintaining eye contact as you do. 

“I need to know what happened last night, the entire truth of it.” you speak.

“Darling, I think you already know what happened last night, you want to know what didn’t happen.”

Rolling your eyes, you respond with a retort. "No, Astarion, I want to know what transpired between you drinking my blood and me waking up in camp hours later." Frustration courses through you, and you clench your hands, emphasizing the urgency of your inquiry. "I need to know if I hurt you."

"After I tasted your delicious blood, I might have overindulged," Astarion admits with a pause, carefully choosing his words. "Then, quite graciously, I carried you all the way back to camp."

"You jest, surely?" An unassuming chuckle escapes your mouth.

You had not hurt him but he’d hurt you. You’d almost apologized for it and he’d not even considered it to be a thing to be forgiven for. 

"Need I remind you that moments before, you too overindulged? Aiming that crossbow straight to my head." Astarion's brows furrow before he continues “I may not be a paragon of virtue, but neither are you.”.  His eyes demand that you stare into the crimson pools, reflecting your image. 

"Usstan'sargh wael." you retort, the unfamiliar words slipping out without conscious thought. They resonate within the tent, the atmosphere momentarily sterile as the words echo through your cortex. Usstan'sargh wael—a string of words from a different time, before the nautiloid. 

Whatever did they mean?

“I’m sorry, I don't know why I said that-”

“Usstan'sargh wael?” he interrupts. "Darling, you hurt me. I much prefer you calling me pretty," 

Why would you call him "pretty"? It hits you like a ton of bricks. In the midst of your delirium, you referred to him as pretty. An unexpected blush creeps up your cheeks. It's as if the memory has decided to unveil itself at the most inconvenient moment.

Gods above.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment, you clear your throat, attempting to redirect the conversation. "I was delirious and not thinking straight," you say, pausing before stumbling into a ramble. "Not that you're not easy on the eyes, but... Gods what am I trying to get at?”. Covering your face in embarrassment, you feel the elf shifting closer.

His lips curl into a teasing smile as he replies, "Well, my dear, I must admit, being considered easy on the eyes by someone as captivating as you is not an insult. And as for what you're trying to get at, I could think of a thing or two." 

With a mischievous glint in his ruby-red eyes, he shifts even closer, his slender fingers lifting your chin gently. The gesture forces you to meet his intense gaze, and in that moment, the air thickens with a palpable tension. Astarion's lips crash onto yours with a hunger that mirrors the intensity in his eyes. The unexpected kiss continues, its fervor only escalating as desire and playfulness intertwine, making your head spin. Astarion, with a soft but determined pull on your thigh, urges you to climb onto his lap. Skillfully, he shifts with your moving form, ensuring the kiss remains unbroken, as if the mere thought of parting would pull you out of the collective bliss that envelops you both.

Astarion's hands, deft and purposeful, trace the contours of your body, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. His fingers, with a hint of urgency, find the curve of your neck, and for a moment, time seems to slow. Your mind momentarily clears - Is this really a good idea?

The elf, driven by his own urges, hovers over the delicate expanse of your throat. His breath, warm and tantalizing, brushes against your skin as he pauses, his ruby-red eyes locked onto yours. There's a primal yearning in his gaze, a dance between the allure of forbidden desires and the magnetic pull of an inevitable encounter.

The kiss deepens, and with a subtle tilt of your head, you give in to temptation and offer him unhindered access. Astarion, like a predator with a taste for anticipation, teases with the notion of what's to come. His lips, hungry and insistent, trace a tantalizing path along your jawline, lingering at the pulse point of your neck.

In this charged moment, the line between pleasure and danger blurs, and you find yourself again hesitating whilst simultaneously yearning for his fangs to puncture your neck.  

“Try to be gentle, will you?” you urge as he plants sloppy kisses on your jugular vein.

A devious smirk decorates his lips, his breath hot on your neck. “Your wish is my command.” he murmurs as he kisses the sore wounds from yesterday's endeavors. 

Bracing you for what's to come, his hand dips from the small of your back even lower, the other assertively angeling your jaw upwards. As his hand continues to make its way down, he also tucks you closer. Suddenly, there is a new feeling -  him, full and straining against his leather pants. The proximity is intoxicating, his cock further pressing against your clothed and ever growing pool of heat. Mesmerized by the closeness, your senses scream at you -  you need to feel more, you need to feel him. 

Bucking your hips against his, desperate for any friction, Astarion pricks your skin. Droplets of blood spill freely and trickle down your heaving chest. Defty hands trace along the opening of your top, fingers pulling at the lacing. Each pull reveals another inch of skin exposed to his zealous gaze. Your warm blood dribbles further, a path trailing from your neck all the way down to your abdomen. Pausing, his eyes absorb his handiwork before tracking his hands at the hem of your top. Guided by his agile fingers, the top glides down your shoulders and hitches at your breasts and reveals your flushed skin. They slightly sway, nipples stiffening at the sensation, as the top is dragged to pool at your waist. You're fully displayed, breath hitching, smeared with blood and a throbbing below pressing against his excitement. 

“So pretty for me.” he whispers, eyes half lidded with pupils large enough to drown in. 

The elf leans in, hands gliding over your stiff peaks, and then circling and teasing them. The sensation sends shivers through your spine, making you softly whimper. Astarion’s tongue peers out and begins to lick the blood-path laid between the valley of your breasts. He alternates between licking and planting hungry kisses as he gradually moves towards one of your breasts. His thumb is brought to wrap around your nipple with his slick tounge, then beginning to suck and nibble gently. Moans escape your lips and a strained growl for the rogue's lips could be heard too. 

Gods, you need more.

An involuntary jerk escapes from your hips, prompting Astarion to grind against your hips in turn as his length twitches beneath you in excitement. Your arousal fogs your mind, wetness spreading between your folds as he sucks and circles your hard nipples whilst rolling his hips into you. 

The vapors of your enchanted state fueled by Astarions prying gaze, evapor at the familiar echoing in your skull. 

Please no.

Slithering in your skull there are several voices bouncing off your cranium. “Child, do not resist, for in surrender, you find the strength you seek. Embrace the darkness within, let it be your guide!”

Forget about it, you tell yourself. Just brush it off, it’s only a whisper.

Dexterously, Astarions slides his hands along the curve of waist, exploring your figure as his gaze dips to the hem of your trousers. His finger abruptly halts at the hem, his sharp eyes narrow as he now looks into yours. In that moment, a knowing expression flickers across his face.

“Darling?”

You dare not face him any longer, he’s too perceptive for you to fool. 

“I’m sorry, it’s the urge I didn't mean to scare you.” you say under your breath, eyes still not facing him. “I-” The urge in your head seize the opportunity, slipping out momentarily, your tadpole wriggles and catches its connection with his, revealing the poison dripped tongue that rests in your skull. 

“Only the blade can offer true salvation, true power. Succumb to the darkness within and we’d be unstoppable.”

Unknowingly you’d stumbled back from the elfs lap and now rested between his arched legs, your breathing growing more rapid. A dim, eerie figure hovered above his head, ghoulish in appearance, with dark fog caressing his curls and another hand winding ominously around his neck.

"Get away from him, let him be," you plead, the urgency in your voice contrasting with the unsettling presence that lingers.

Taking charge of the moment, Astarion catches your chin, forcing your pupil-blown eyes to meet his. “What ever haunts you, it won’t have you. Focus on me.”

The ghoulish figure above him recoils as if repelled by Astarion's resolve. The dark fog dissipates, revealing the familiar warm crimson hues in his eyes that contrasts starkly with the eerie specter.

Just as the unsettling specter dissipates, a sudden eruption of chaotic sounds pierces the air outside the tent. Urgent whispers, clashes of weapons, and primal roars signal an acute danger just beyond the tent walls.

"Hells, can we ever catch a godsdamn break?" Astarion mutters, a wry edge to his voice.

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Need a fic inspired by strangers (ethel cain) with ascended astarion x tav/durge 😔 (yes I am unwell)