#king!astarion

[comatosebunny09]

Stuck on this royalty AU in which you’ve rejected King Astarion’s advances too many times.

You’ve been his bodyguard for years. One of the few people who’s seen the man beneath the crown, stripped bare and bleeding. Naturally, you both grew to care for each other more than a king and subject should.

Astarion’s come dangerously close to confessing his feelings for you. But you’ve always staved him off, believing you’re unfit to be anything more than one who serves him. Never his equal.

Cue you sabotaging your budding romance by suggesting he pursue people of his caliber.

He humors you if only to make you jealous. Even the maids know how this man pines for you.

One day, he takes the hand of a beautiful young woman to tour his garden, whispering things into her ear to make her giggle. He perches a hand at the small of her back. Smiles in that charming, boyish way that he typically reserves for you. He puts on a show just for you, his gaze often flitting over his shoulder because he knows you’re following dutifully behind.

Try as you might to mask your ire, he can practically hear the gears whirring in your head. You’re so blinded by your jealousy that you go stumbling into a pond. How comical a sight you pose, the king’s professional and stone-faced guard dog, sputtering and flailing about like a wet cat.

You’re mortified as his servants scramble to get you out, your cape and armor waterlogged. Astarion instinctively moves to assist, wriggling out of the young woman’s hold. You lock eyes with your king as he reaches for you. Over his shoulder, you watch his guest stifle a giggle behind her gloved hand.

Your heart plummets into your stomach. You could only hope to be someone as beautiful and titillating. The king deserves someone cut from a similar cloth as him, not a lowly dog with calluses on their hands and scars littering their body.

You dismiss yourself with a curt bow, your dignity bruised, your eyes burning with the threat of tears. Hardly notice Astarion briskly excusing himself from his guest to follow you.

You stomp into the servant’s quarters, a few maids scuttling about with towels to dry you off. You’re so embarrassed you don’t even have the voice to tell them you can do it yourself. Astarion cautiously wanders in, quietly dismissing the maids to fetch you a change of uniform.

You can’t meet his eye as he kneels before you, trying vainly to hide his smile whilst he towels you off.

“I’m not even sure what you’re jealous of. You’re the one who told me to move on, remember?” the king softly scolds.

You scoff. “Jealous? Me?”

Astarion gives you a deadpan look. “Darling, you practically drowned yourself trying to get an earful of our conversation.”

“Did not.”

“Right. I suppose the pond stepped into your way, then?”

Another scoff accompanied by heat blooming into your cheeks.

“Come now, darling. As lovely as you are, green just isn’t your color.”

You cut your eyes at him in warning, to which he chuckles something deep and alluring.

Astarion pats your knee, standing to his full height. He offers you his hand, insisting you take it with a look after you refuse him. He pulls you to him, uncaring if his doublet gets wet, pilfering the breath from your lungs.

The king gazes down at you with all the tenderness of the world, his hand splayed at the small of your back. The proximity of your body causes your mind to whirl and your lips to part with a gasp.

“Let’s get you changed, hmm?”

You worry your bottom lip with your teeth. “What about your date, Majesty?”

Astarion shrugs, rolling his eyes dismissively. “I’m sure she’ll find someone else to occupy her time. I’ve more…important matters to attend to,” he says, his gaze simmering like a low flame.

He ushers you into the hallway, steering you towards his room to get you cleaned up. A luxury only you know, no one else having been allowed to see his room as often as you have.

You shiver, still soaked to the bone. Astarion tucks you close into his side, rubbing your arm to ward off the chill. You smile triumphantly quietly, knowing you’re the only person he’s touched like this in years.

[emahriel]

needed to bring this important venn diagram here

[rosieethor]

It is infinitely funny to me that not only is Astarion only 5'9", his is also the ONLY companion's height Larian felt the need to specify. Like it doesn't matter to them if we think Halsin's tall, but hell will freeze over before they let us mistake Astarion for anything but average as fuck.

[panicfast]

3 yr art comparison of some guy

[egg-on-a-legg]

perks of undead boyfriend: you're finally warm enough for cuddles

[n0ahsferatu]

i’d say they’re going on a road trip but they don’t even have a car smh

[dancingbirdie]

Some goblin Astarion things.

He pinches you when you toss and turn too much in your shared bed. “Wake up and stop flailing! Gods. I’ll have bruises from your pointy elbows in the morning.”

He sews “kick me” on the butt of Gale’s trousers in dark, dark gray after the Wizard pisses him off. Karlach sees it with her dark vision when they’re in the Underdark and promptly knees him in the ass.

He steals all of Halsin’s wooden ducks and plants them in Wyll’s tent, for shits and giggles.

He tries to line a tripwire across the front of Lae’zel’s tent entrance, but ends up pricking himself on a blow dart booby trap he failed to perceive. Incurs -3 hit points and the bleeding condition for 10 turns.

He nips your neck like a disgruntled cockatoo when you tease him in front of the other party members.

He puts swamp green clothing dye in Shadowheart’s bottle of hair dye when she’s not looking, causing her to endure some sickly green highlights for a fortnight.

He steals Wither’s staff while he’s speaking with Jaheria and hides it among Lae’zel’s armory. Gets hauled over by the ear by Jaheira to apologize to Withers. And Lae’zel.

He hides in the bushes near camp and makes god-awful wailing noises to keep Scratch and the owlbear cub barking while the party is trying to get some sleep.

He fabricates some ridiculous story about how the Weave is really a hoax designed by Big Magic to control the masses, just to see Gale go purple in the face while arguing against this “utter tripe.”

He loudly proclaims that he overheard Shadowheart telling Wyll she could beat Lae’zel in unarmed combat with a hand tied behind her back, then scampers away cackling when the two lady warriors start yelling at one another.

[sadmages]

Gale stabilizing all 3 party members from death after not getting hit himself at all and then dropping this bomb while everyone's on the verge of death. So funny of him

[astarionancuntnin]

he truly is that bitch

astarion + text posts (part 1)

[cheekylittlepupp]

I am unwell...

[comatosebunny09]

These meetings always drag on for what feels like centuries.

His council drones on about something Astarion can’t be bothered to follow. It’s a bad habit he’s developed as of late, tuning out what he doesn’t deem important. Luckily, one of his advisors will catch him up on the essentials later.

Poor Astarion can’t focus to save his life, too swept up in the delectable aroma filling his lungs and the gentle shift of pressure behind him.

A glance disguised as a cough over his shoulder reveals what he already knows. Of course, it’s your fragrance turning his brain to mush. His stunning, ever-loyal bodyguard, standing in good form behind him. Your gazes meet for the briefest of seconds before you return your attention to the wall, and you quietly clear your throat. 

Astarion hides a youthful grin behind his hand when he turns back. His chest swells triumphantly as he taps his pen against the cherrywood table, feigning interest in this meeting. He’s much too distracted now, reveling in how he’s flustered you again. Always during the most inappropriate moments, wending through your stoic exterior.    

Try as you might to mask your feelings, Astarion can smell how you yearn for him. Smells pheromones wafting off your skin, blood warming your veins, and your ache for him pooling in your stomach. Best of all, he can hear how much you crave him. Your throat bobs with how thickly you swallow. Your breaths are labored, and your heart pumps eagerly to accommodate whatever nerves overhaul your body. 

Astarion fixes his collar with a wistful sigh. He cradles his cheek in his palm as he scribbles in his notebook, engulfed by the maelstrom of his thoughts. Consumed by the thought of you.  

He hasn’t the foggiest why you continue with this game of cat and mouse; why you carry on as if your fingers don’t itch to touch him. As if your lips don’t ache to feel and taste his. Like your heart doesn’t beat a little faster when he’s near. He’s adored you for quite some time now. Reserved a place in his cold, silent heart just for you, the cobwebs brushed away and sunlight slinking in through its cracks.

He hasn’t exactly been subtle with his advances.  

Often, he’ll whisper saccharine words against the shell of your ear when he passes you during his gatherings, a cautious hand smoothing your hair away from your cheek. He’s known to pilfer little glances at you during his meetings, smiling like an enamored fool when you catch him, saturating his mind with endorphins.

He tends to corner you in the safety of his quarters, caging you between his body and whatever wall you find yourself backed into. Breathes hotly against the slope of your shoulder, teasing you until your neck and cheeks explode with heat, and you’re dizzy from the headiness of it all.

Occasionally, his fingers brush against yours whilst walking side-by-side through the quiet hallways of his castle. And sometimes, he entertains the idea of holding your hand, filling the spaces between your fingers with his, and squeezing to let you know what he feels for you is very much real.   

You become such a delightful sight when you scramble for words and skitter away from his affections like you’ve been branded by fire. 

It's a game Astarion likes to play, seeing how far he can push you until your defenses crumble and you succumb to your desires. There’s no one holding a sword to your neck. No one demanding you stave off his advances or embrace them. But he knows that you know he would throw his kingdom to hell for you, craving you more than the air filtering through his lungs.

He shudders at the thought. How violently his passion burns. It’s been far too long since he’s felt like this about anyone.  

The gathering carries on in a muddled blur, filled with the useless prattle of his kingdom’s finest. He’s all but remorseful when it draws to its conclusion.

Astarion stands to bid his councilmen farewell, smiles rehearsed and handshakes firm. He’s found it easier to maintain this façade as long as he promises to reward himself with your presence. He watches through his peripheral as the last of his men trickles out. Patient as the maids scuttle in, clearing the table of water pitchers and glasses dripping condensation.

When he’s sure there is but the two of you left in the council chamber, Astarion heaves a sigh with the drop of his shoulders as if all the world’s weight sloughs off. The snicker you relent to the air behind makes him stiffen. He spins ‘round to regard you with a quirked brow, wiping the amused look from your face.

Rounding his chair, Astarion begins sauntering to you, steps measured and stare predatory.

“Tickled, are you?” drawls your king, swaddling you in all his eccentric, regal air when he stops before you.

He dwarfs you by a few inches, a concept that makes him smirk like the proverbial cat that’s caught the canary. A hand stuffed in his breeches pocket, he tenderly eases a lock of hair behind your ear, purposely grazing the edge of your ear. A shudder is elicited from your person, and Astarion’s smirk grows tenfold as his hand drops listlessly at his side.

You shake out of your trance, fixing your gaze on anything but him. With your hands still clasped at the small of your back, you say, “Not at all, Majesty. You just look like you survived the apocalypse.”

Astarion scoffs, throwing his hand up with a dramatic flair. “With how these idiots carry on, I might as well have.”

Another laugh rumbles in your throat, yet you quickly correct yourself, remembering your decorum.

[telumendils]

ppl will really say shit like "astarion can't be attracted to women just look at the way he behaves" with their whole chest like they're not blatantly stereotyping gay men and erasing vast swathes of bisexual and pansexual men when they do that.

[darknanigans]

I HAD to draw this screenshot of neil as astarion. twas a nescessity

"fuck am i sposed' to do with this"

(can someone PLEASE give context at some point this image is so fuckjng funny please)

[westruun]

Let's do it your way then. As long as it's with you.

[mia-martian]

Something I've been thinking about a lot lately

[nobigneil]

"Astarion's rhythm is still very much alive inside of me" - Neil Newbon