#shape shifting vampire

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

Visiting Raven

Monster Pairing: Connor (Male!Vampire) x NB Reader Notes: short story, sfw, cuddles; I tried to find this on my blog but I think Tumblr ate it up. So, I'm reposting it after trying to clean up my masterlist.

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Tap Tap Tap Tap

You grumbled and rolled over onto your side. Shoving your face into the pillow, trying to drown out the irritating sound by your head.

TapTapTapTap

The sound picked up pace this time. And the echo of the sharp noise against glass radiated through your bedroom. You groaned and drowsily waved your hand in the air. As dismissing whoever was making that noise.

TAPTAPTAPTAP CRACK!

You shot up into a sitting position. A loud yelp of surprise as the harsh sound split the somewhat silence of the night. Your window was splintered with spider-webbed cracks. All leading towards the centre where a black beak was pierced through the glass. A large raven stood outside the now broken window. Eyes wide in shock as it looked to you, to the window and then back. You said nothing. Only stared as the bird yanked its beak out of the glass; breaking it even more to the point that shards of window fell to the floor.

"Err, I'll fix that, lass." The raven cooed. A thick Irish accent clicking through its beak. It then hopped through the large hole it made in your window. "Promise."

You glared daggers at the raven. Deciding you were far too tired to deal with Connor's shit right now. A glance at your phone, told you it was 2am in the morning. The Sun was no near rising and you were very pissed off now. So, to keep the peace between you and your friend, you threw the blanket over your head and collapsed back into bed. Ignoring the raven completely. A soft croak could be heard outside the blanket's confines. And then the sound of rustling feathers followed, quickly replaced by a dramatic sigh and cold body crawling up behind you. Outside the blanket, Connor tickled the area were your back should be. You couldn't see it, but he was wearing one of his very guilty "kicked-puppy" faces. One you absolutely knew he'd play on until you forgave him for the window.

"Come on, lass. It was an accident. I really am sorry." He purred, letting his accent thicken slightly as he rested his chin on your shoulder. "Look at me. Ya can't stay made at something this pretty."

"As long as I don't look at you, I can stay infuriated as long as I damn well please." You grumbled. Eyes tightly closed and covered by your arm. Just encase Connor got any bright ideas to rip the blanket off you.

Connor sighed. Moving so he could nuzzle his face into the crook of your covered neck. His arm snaked over your waist and he gently squeezed you against him. "I'll make it up to ya. How about a coffee date?"

"At 2am?! I'll be up for the rest of the morning! No." You snapped.

"I'll read you a bedtime story." Connor suggested. A cocky smile stretching his lips. "Sing you a lullaby in Gaelic? Come on, lass. Give me something. I feel really bad about what I just did."

You sighed. Stretching out the moment of silence just to torture him. But after a few seconds, you threw back the blanket and gave Connor one of your most venomous glares your tired mind could bring up. "Why are you here, Connor? You know I have a rule about being woken up after midnight."

"I know. I know. And I am sorry, but I needed to ask a human a question. And you're the only human that answers my weird questions seriously and without judgement." Connor seemed to perk up now you were out from under the blanket. Which, and you'd hate to admit it out loud since you're trying to be stern with him, was too adorable for a grown 400 year old Vampire to be.

You turned to lay on your back, giving Connor your attention and also to cuddle somewhat into his chest. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"I heard from a Plague Doctor that Humans have enough bacteria in you to weigh around four pounds. Is that true?" Connor's eyebrows tweaked in a way that only added to how childish he looked. Like a toddler asking how the moon phases worked or why the sun goes down every day.

You were caught off guard by the question. Why on earth would a Plague Doctor know that? And why was Connor even with Plague Doctor?? "I, uh, I actually don't know. Let me look it up." You reached over to your phone and opened it up. Tapping away and clicking on various sites that came up. You read them quickly, mostly breezing through the words until something caught your interest. As much as Connor was capable of looking this up himself, you knew he also liked sharing knowledge with you. It was half the reason why he brought really weird questions to you. And also, you were sure he just wanted to excuse to come see you.

"Ah, ok. So, what I can tell, we just have a shit-ton of bacteria. A few sites say the amount could collectively weight a few pounds if put all together. And apparently we have more bacteria cells than Human cells. Huh, the more you know." You said, glancing up to look at Connor. Who was also reading over your shoulder at what was on the small screen.

"So, the Doctor wasn't wrong. But neither really right." Connor murmured.

"I mean, he could be right. Also, who is this Plague Doctor? I didn't think they still exist." You asked with interest. Lowering your phone so Connor's crimson gaze had to focus on you. Your flight or fight reflex kicked in motion for a moment as his red pupils fixed on you. It was a common thing with him. And it still made you feel guilty to remember how you use to cower under his gaze because of his predatory gaze. Thankfully, it wasn't so bad now.

"An old fart who still wears the freaky bird masks. We got talkin', he's my supplier for O type blood. Makes it easy so when I'm lazy I can just call him up." You rolled your eyes but nodded. Attempting to go back to reading, only to be suddenly crush under a certain Vampire who decided to drape himself ontop of you. He caught your phone as it was slapped out of your hands. Carefully placing it down on the bedside table before turning his gaze back to you. A cheeky smile played along his lips and you couldn't help but feel a little flustered under this circumstance.

"Connor, what are you doing?" You asked. Pretending not to feel a little giddy with the Vampire leaning over you.

"Gettin' comfortable." He replied. Winking down at you before he moves his arms under your back to properly hold you. Then, he shoves his face against your bare neck. Pressing a gentle kiss there before nuzzle just under your jawline.

You smiled and shook your head. Allowing your arms to wrap around him and trail idly along his back. Scratching between his shoulder-blades and scraping the strands of hair above his neck. Connor shivered with a soft whimper of delight. He was much like a puppy. Loved attention, and loved getting scratched along his back.

"Is this the other reason you broke my window tonight?" You asked, holding a small bit of irritation to the snarkiness in your voice. Connor huffed softly. Reluctantly pulling his lips away from your neck to properly look down at you.

"I really am sorry about the window, lass." Connor pouted. Eyebrows dipping in a guilt ridden expression. Lips pursed in a way that made him look like he was about to cry. All while his fingers gently brushed along your cheeks. Tucking your hair behind your ear and tickling soft skin of your shoulders. You groaned heavily and held his face in your hands.

"Stop using that damned adorable face! I forgive you! You're fine, but seriously. Did you come here to cuddle?"

Connor nodded and buried his face back into your neck. His arms flexed for a moment, giving you a tight embrace before releasing you. "Yes. I'm needy and clingy. I need cuddles or I get grumpy." The Irishman grumbled. The soft tickle of his voice against your neck made you giggle. And you couldn't help but squeeze him back. "That's fine. Just next time, don't tap against the window. I'm like a goldfish. I get startled easily." 

[ravenclawlibrary]

Dear Van Helsing, Dracula can take the form of a bat, you say?

[pintsofguinnesmakeyoustrong]

boyfriend by against me! is such a spuffy song its unreal. 'i don't wanna hang around the graveyard waiting for something dead to come back' ?!?!?! 'I know you think you've got one up on me, that you can see something i cant' ?!?!??!?! 'it's not love, its just adornment' ??!?!?!?!?!??!?!? 'of all the reasons to feel hateful you're the best of them' ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? 'you're treating me like a boyfriend, some dumb fucking boyfriend' ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? 'lie to me, right through me' ?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!???!??!?!?

[pebblezone]

I have many thoughts in my head

[wasjustred]

now my question is: what are the laws/assumptions/understandings re: mixed abilities bc… larissa weems vampire countess? yeah of course. i mean what else would it be giving.

[just-sad-lonely-and-plus-sized]

I need y’all to be real with me, if I write a book about reality shifting with a sweet but pessimistic plus sized main character with family issues, and lots of love for a certain set of books would you read it??? I don’t wanna give to many details but that is the main part of the plot. It also has mythical characters and a love story in it. And if so would you all want it to be spicy of just romantic???

[violent138]

The Supernatural as Cancerous Beings

In biology, we learned a lot of cool stuff about cancer, and I think supernatural beings (vampires and shapeshifters) are easily reconstituted to represent walking tumours.

Vampires - easy, immortal unageing cell lines that require blood consumption to access nutrients, can survive anything except silver and wood (to be fair, you could technically kill cancers with these, some anticancer drugs are made of silver and compounds from trees). Cancers also quite literally parasitically steal nutrients, and can fool the immune system with their own version of a glamour.

Shapeshifters - cancers can reprogram their own genes, change conformation (tumours), expand, and proliferate rapidly, ergo, a shapeshifter explodes into a clump of cancer cells, that reprogram themselves into the new forms they desire.

I think cancers can very easily recapture elements of supernatural beings, and some of the traits of cancer fit in nicely with traits of supernatural creatures.

[sibmakesart]

Your Thor/Tony/Steve beard art is 1. Very sweet (lookit they faces!) and 2. Brings to mind the image of a big old Lion and Wolf getting scritches from a little Black House Cat lol

kjhdckashfdk omg yes that be so cute

[mistydrizzlewitch]

Vampire Poll #1

Congratulations, your wish to become an immortal child of the night will be granted. You gain the obligatory night vision, supernatural speed and, of course, eternal youth. As a treat, you get to have one (1) other specific vampire trait.

But take care, as your immortal existence comes with ... well, let us call it minor inconveniences:

Vampire Poll #2

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to get the creature to come to you. Like to give them a little gift of some sort.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a Yandere vampire. Specifically, the beautiful kind that shape-shift into giant, humanoid bat creatures. The hopeless romantic vampire who cannot forget his human lover when he was once human…

Yandere Vampire who was oh so thrilled when you knocked at his door and shivered on his steps. What a scrumptious morsel you were! So soft and tender looking… he couldn’t wait to eat you. Your tears fell as you babbled about how you were thrown off your horse that was spooked by a pack of wolves and you ran towards his manor in hopes of safety. You were simply out looking for your lover. You were lucky to escape those damned werewolves! Those mangy mutts always laid their paws on most of the prey around here… which made you all the more scrumptious.

Yandere Vampire who invited you into his humble abode and ushered you into his living room to warm up at the fire. You couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his overly friendly smile and his incessant touching. Why did he dress up like he was from the Victorian era? And his accent was so thick… was he Romanian perhaps?

Yandere Vampire who gives you a fresh set of clothes and tells you that he has a spare room in the west end of the manor. You’re very grateful to him and even give him a soft smile that caused his chest to stir. When was the last time he’s had pleasant company? He couldn’t remember since it’s been so many years since a meal came to him…

Yandere Vampire who found himself sitting beside you as you asked him about his life. He was flattered that you showed interest in him. He didn’t find himself that interesting of an individual since he’s spent a millennium alone. Yet you seemed so happy to hear about his hobbies and book collection. The way your eyes sparkled and your cheeks flushed made him miss the days he was once human… but he could not let your human innocence enrapture his lonely heart. He must feast on you. It’s the way of living after all. No matter how strikingly similar your appearance was to the love his life.

Yandere Vampire who begins to feel more hesitant when you laugh and smile. Your mannerisms were so similar to a lover he had when he was human… it couldn’t be, right? There was no way they had returned to him… he was a monster now.

Yandere Vampire who sneaks into your room when you’re fast asleep. You were completely oblivious to the way his cold hands roamed your body as he dragged his fangs across your delicate neck. He’d make your death quick and painless… yet he couldn’t help but want to check to see if you really may be a reincarnation of his lover. What if you were? Would you be able to love him again?

Yandere Vampire who choked back a sob when he found a birthmark on your skin that was the same as his dead lovers. They were back to him… at long last, he wouldn’t be alone!

Yandere Vampire who leaves your room in a hurry in a cloud of black smoke. The vampire rushes to his room so he can stand on his balcony. His pale hands grab the metal rails as his body sprouts white fur and white bat wings spring from his back. He needed to feast but he wouldn’t feast on you. No, never you… his beloved.

Yandere Vampire who raids a nearby village and savagely feasts. He needed to build up his strength so he’d be able to turn you into a vampire as well! He couldn’t lose you again… not when he finally had you in his possession once more. He wondered if you’d remember him if he showed you all the portraits he had painted of you over the years.

Yandere Vampire who began to fantasize of all the ways he’d make love to you. Of how he’d litter your body with bite marks and bruises so you’d always have his ownership on you. Gods it made him breathless imagining being with you in this monstrous form. He wondered if yours would be more beautiful than his… he could hardly contain his excitement!

If only he was aware that you had a lover already who was his sworn enemy… a werewolf.

[feyascorner]

before my nails dig

summary. in which one of Astarion's especially vivid nightmares results in him waking up to Tav at the mercy of his own hands...and the shame that comes with it.

warnings. angst, fluff, comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!reader

a/n. someone pls get this man therapy that's all i ask,,, also this takes place sometime during act 3 before you confront cazador!! first post too so pls forgive typos

Had breathing always been this hard?

It's not like he had to breathe anyway. The undead have more perks than one would think, and having no need for air was one that became particularly useful in unexpected ways. Yet as he stands in Cazador's dungeon again--a place he longs to rid from the darkest corners of his mind--all he can do is stumble over his own breath, crimson eyes darting around frantically in search of an exit.

And suddenly, his siblings are at the mercy of the ascension, floating helplessly in the chains of a red aura--Cazador's aura. Despite the chaos, Astarion's eyes narrow in on the one pedestal with no occupant, and he realizes it's his own designated place.

It's getting harder to breathe now.

A breath creeps up behind his shoulder, sending pure dread throughout his entire body as he hears Cazador's voice far too close than he ever wanted it to be.

"Wake up, child. This is all you've ever been meant for."

Astarion whips around and lunges at the man, his hands wrapping viciously around the throat he's fantasized about ripping apart for the past two hundred years. His nails dig into the flesh of the vampire lord's neck, leaving indents in the shape of crescent moons, just enough to cause panic but not enough to draw blood. But Cazador only cackles, his eyes staring right into Astarion's as he hollers over and over again.

"Wake up."

"Wake up!"

"--Astarion!"

The spawn's eyes snap open, recognition finally flooding his expression as he finds himself staring down at you. The very face he sees in the softest of dreams, the lips he longs to kiss at every waking moment, and the eyes that gaze at him with the love and adoration he's been missing for most of his wretched eternal life. Though he'd never admit it, you saved him. From the moment he'd threatened your life at the nautiloid crash to the moment he held you close to his chest in the confines of his tent, he would be by your side until you tired of him and threw him away.

All he wanted--all he could wish for--was only a fraction of it in return. And you'd given him that, and so much more.

But now, you're scared. Terrified, even. Of him.

With horror, he realizes his fingers are digging into your throat. Your precious, tender throat that you offer him not for something in return, but simply because you care for him.

All at once as he tears his hands away, he wants to cut them off and bury himself in his own grave again. He doesn't meet your eyes, afraid of what disgust might be held in them, but he knows you're too kind for that. Too kind to see the kind of monster he is.

You're gasping for your breath, and his stomach knots in a way that would have sent him hurling if it weren't for the fact that he's too occupied drinking in what he's done. To you.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, Astarion," you choke out, perching on both your elbows as you struggle to recover. Even now, all you seem to care about is him. He almost hates you for it--hates you for not stabbing a stake through his heart the moment his hands met your neck. "Astarion-"

"Your throat," he croaks, despising the slight crack of his voice as he reaches for your cheek, but stops before he even gets close. He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth again.

"It's okay, really, I can just get Shadowheart to heal me," you shake your head, and he finds himself in disbelief as you crawl toward him, tossing the sheets to the side. He shifts the slightest away and you understand, immediately sitting back down. You look like you want to say something, but you close your mouth and watch him patiently, as if waiting for him to make the first move.

After a suffocating silence, he turns his back to you. "I'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight."

He intends of never sharing a room with you again, in fear of what he could possibly do to you as a result of his selfish desires to keep you close, and you seem to pick up on the tone of his words. You always do. "Astarion, please."

"I do apologize, sincerely. I'll form a better apology tomorrow, but for now, I'll fetch Shadowheart or that damned wizard and-"

He fights the urge to shiver when he feels your hand on his. How you manage to have such an impact on him with a simple touch he does not know, and does not care because all he wants is more. To pull you close, to beg you to keep him, to use him, to punch him, strangle him for all he cared, in hopes you'll even consider ever speaking to him again. Instead, he turns to look at you.

Gods, you're beautiful.

Even with those terrible bruises he'd go to hell and earth to take back, your beauty in unmatched with anything he's ever seen. Even with the bed hair and the anxiousness pursing your lips, he can't bring himself to look away again.

"Please stay. I'm not mad, nor afraid."

The words sound like honey on your tongue.

"Please," You say again, slowly this time. "Stay."

His chest feels tight, threatening to tear itself apart as his voice comes out in a crooked whisper. "I could have killed you."

"You didn't."

"If you died too, I don't know--what would I even do with myself? What would I-" He hates it when he sounds like this. Vulnerable, or as Cazador liked to call it: pathetic. But he can't help the words tumbling out his blasted mouth with the way you're gazing at him with nothing but worry. Somehow, with you, it feels strange.

Refreshing, almost.

Your hand squeezes around his as if to remind him you're still here. He meets your eyes again and it's all it takes to break what little will he has left, as he lets you pull him close in a crushing hug--one that's all too welcomed.

And as the two of you lie awake in each other's embrace, he thanks all the gods he doesn't worship for putting you on his path.

[neechees]

That's actually really common with Native characters, whether they're racebends or not, but there's always this need of people wanting to connect any fantasy elements of the characters, to Native American spirituality or culture, even when the same isn't done for other characters with the same fantasy elements as them.

Like we can't just have a Native American vampire, they feel the need to make this vampire turn into a Native deity. We can't just have a Native werewolf, their lycanthropy HAS to be linked to Native shape-shifting for some reason (& I'll admit this one has the most potential, but every attempt I've seen has STILL been butchered & racist). We can't just have a Native American who is also a wizard, their magic is somehow always linked to them being a "Shaman". There can't just be like a Native version of Superman or other superheroes, their superhero powers always somehow come from or are contact with Native deities.

I think people think theyre being inclusive & clever when they do this, and sometimes it IS out of a genuine desire to acknowledge the characters' culture rather than to just ignore it, but most of the time the cultural & spiritual aspects are butchered & bastardized anyways, so it still misses the mark & hits straight into The Magical Indian trope & Native mysticism. At this point its a pleasant surprise & subversive when their fantasy elements AREN'T linked to Native culture/spirituality somehow. There's ways to include Native characters' cultures into their backstories without stereotyping them & I wish this was understood & that creators strived for it more

[blacklight-creations]

GHOULS ARE LOCAL CRYPTIDS

MOUNTAIN AS A STRANGE DEER CREATURE THAT PEOPLE HAVE SPOTTED IN THE WOODS

MULTIPLE BODIES BEING FOUND DRAINED OF BLOOD CAUSING THE NEAR BY TOWNS TO THINK THERES A VAMPIRE AND THAT VAMPIRE IS PHANTOM

RAIN CAPSIZING FISHING BOATS IN THE NEAR BY LAKES AND RIVERS

CIRRUS HAUNTING ROADWAYS AND KILLING ANYONE UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO BE THERE ALONE AT NIGHT

AURORA STEALING LIVESTOCK FROM FARMS LEAVING ONLY A TRAIL OF BLOOD AND CLAW MARKS INTO THE FOREST

DEW CHASING DOWN CARS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

SWISS SHAPE-SHIFTING INTO DIFFERENT PEOPLE JUST TO LURE SOMEONE TO THEIR UN TIMELY DEMISE

CUMULUS' SIREN CALL BEING THE LAST THING SO MANY PEOPLE HEARD IN THEIR LAST MOMENTS WHILE IN THE WOODS

GHOULS ARE CRYPTIDS

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Half A Bed

No, this is not the "only one bed" trope I'm afraid, although if anyone has any ideas for a fic w that trope, do drop you ideas in the inbox!

Summary: You and Astarion share a bed

At this point, it has become a habit for Astarion to move and leave half his bed free for you to plop yourself on whenever you enter his tent, despite all his grumbling about needing to move from his comfortable position. You then accept the invitation and happily lie down next to him, stretching your arms above your head with a relaxed sigh.

Tonight, Astarion wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck and deeply inhales your scent. He loves how you smell like him, bergamot filling his nose and he lets out a contented sigh. You exude a pleasant warmth as per usual, sharply contrasting his own cold body. He shifts a little so that you can wrap an arm around him, nestling him in a cocoon of your embrace. His cold slender finger draws random shapes on your stomach while he rests his head on your shoulder, enjoying the silence that has befallen his tent.

It wasn’t long ago when such silence would have made him uncomfortable, unsure of what to do, unsure of what you wanted to do, but you had explained yourself upon noticing his discomfort, telling him that sometimes you were just too tired to do anything but still wanted his company. He had agreed to allowing you to do that, despite his reservations about what he himself could do during that time but soon realised that you really didn’t mind what he did.

If he felt just as exhausted as you, he would simply lie next to you, cuddling in the bed. If he still had some energy to spend, he would play with your hair or trace doodles on your stomach. If he felt peckish, he would drink from your neck. The only thing he couldn’t quite bring himself to do was trance whilst you were still awake. He told himself it was because he wanted to watch over you, but in reality, it was because deep down, he still feared that one day you would leave him.

The comfortable silence washes over the both of you, save for the quiet sound of your breathing and the rustle of book pages as you read the book you had brought along with you.

You glance down to check on your vampire lover, a small smile on your face when you notice how relaxed he is and start running your hand through his hair with your free hand. He croons in response and leans into the rhythmic touch, letting the calm wash over him. Your smile only grows wider, a small chuckle slipping from your lips which causes Astarion to look up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?”

“Nothing, Star. Don’t worry.” You press a kiss to his creased forehead. “Although, if you keep frowning like that, there will be permanent wrinkles on your forehead.”

“Excuse me? I am a vampire! Eternally young and beautiful, all thanks to my already handsome features from before I was turned.” He huffs, burrowing his face deeper into your shoulder.

“Mmhm, if you say so,” you hum, setting aside your book to fully focus on him. As you play with strands of his curly silver hair, he gives yet another exaggerated huff, wrapping his arms around you and lightly nips at your exposed shoulder. He gives you a pout as he has done many times before and at this point, you would think you’d be immune to it but something about the way he pouts makes your heart melt each and every time.

“Come here,” you groan, rolling over to wrap your arms around him. He grins, happily nuzzling into your shoulder and welcomes the familiar embrace, filled with warmth and love. He feels safest like this, knowing that whatever happens, he will always have you to return to, that you will always have his back just like he has yours. You’re also permanently warm, and while that was something you found annoying, Astarion thanked whoever it was that made you such. He never needed to worry about the cold, not when all he needed to do was snuggle against you whenever he started to get cold, or simply felt like it. Not once did you ever turn him down, and he doubted you would ever do so.

You bury your face into his soft curls, suppressing yet another chuckle when you hear him mutter something along the lines of being one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.

“My apologies, one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.” You snort.

“Apology accepted,” he crows, ego stroked.

You can’t help but laugh, holding him close and pressing more kisses to the top of his head.

“Simply calling you beautiful doesn’t do you justice, you know.” You ruffle his hair.

“Oh? Do go on, darling.” His eyes twinkle with amusement and happiness.

“You see,” you indulge him, “it’s really easy to call you beautiful because everyone does that, and the phrase ends up losing all meaning. Calling you…say…‘my entire world’ however, still holds a lot of meaning because nobody else calls you that.” You’re not sure why you’re being sappy tonight but you do know that you’re more than happy to give Astarion all the compliments in the world and more. He deserves at least that much.

Tears prick the edges of his eyes at your words and he quickly buries his tearing face in your shoulder, not wanting you to see how your words have affected him.

“It means everything, coming from you,” he whispers, the words struggling to leave his clogged up throat. He squeezes your hand tightly, hoping that the small gesture can convey everything he cannot say and from the look you give him, you’ve received the message.

He shifts to rest his head on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and closes his eyes, letting the feeling he can’t qute describe wash over him. He sinks into the endless abyss of warmth that is you, barely aware of your arm moving to wrap around him to pull him closer but he likes the support that it brings. Even if he were to sink, he knows — no trusts — that you will be there to catch him. Maybe he could let his guard down for just a little while, a short respite from the exhausting day and trust that when he opens his eyes again, you’ll still be there, watching over him with that soft look in your eyes. You wouldn’t leave him when he’s at his most vulnerable, would you?

Ignoring the nagging feeling in his heart, he lets himself slip into a trance, lulled by the soothing sound of your heartbeat and the warmth of your body heat. It’s times like these where he misses being alive, he wishes he could feel his own heartbeat, feel the warmth of his body but when you still curl up against him even on the chilliest of nights, he thinks to himself that perhaps he is alright the way he is, with his cold undead body and sanguine hunger. You may have already told him such when he was confronted with the choice of ascending but while you may have accepted him as who he is, he still struggles with it from time to time. Doubts continue to claw at his thoughts, no matter how many times you drive them away, but if you will continue fighting against them for him, he will not give up.

Your heart flutters when you realise he’s drifting off into a trance. He subconsciously curls tighter into your side, fingers tightly grasping whatever they can reach.

“Rest well, my star.” You murmur, lips ghosting his forehead. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off as well, holding your world in your arms.

[lovelybluebirdie]

A sight to behold

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: Astarion is far more than his beauty, and you want him to know.

Word Count: 1,7k

fluff, comfort

[AO3]

“You should get some rest, love,” Astarion whispers against your hair. He holds you comfortably in his arms, your fingers loosely grasping the end of his collar while his hand strokes along your waist, caressing your battle-bruised skin. 

Usually sleep didn’t take long to claim you after an exhausting day of defeating vigorous creatures or learning another disturbing fact on the tadpole inside your brain, but tonight it seems to avoid you for some reason, leaving you tossing and turning within your bedroll until Astarion eventually pulled you into a loving embrace.

“I’m good,” you mutter as a deep yawn escapes your throat, smothering your last syllables.

Astarion cups your chin between his thumb and index finger, surveying your face. “You’re a weary little love if I ever saw one.” 

“Fine, you’ve got me,” you reply in a drowsy voice. “Maybe I am a little tired, but somehow I can't find any sleep.”

His brow furrows. “Is anything troubling you, my dear?” he asks sincerely, pondering if he might’ve done something wrong.

The unpleasant thought has no room to spread its hooks any further, as he's met with only fondness from your tired eyes, leaving his ribcage bursting with adoration.

“No need to worry about me, Astarion. I promise, everything’s alright,” you assure as you begin to massage his ears, causing them to twitch.

“You still need to get some sleep though,” he scolds with half-closed lids. It's more of a moan, as he���s unable to suppress his desire for your blissful fingers to go on. You seem to know exactly where he enjoys them most, he notices, when another quiet groan spills from his lips. 

You brush the pointy tip of his ear once more, cautiously not to overstimulate this sensitive part of him, before you rest your fingers on his neck and playfully raise an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you’ll allow me to indulge in your beauty a little longer before I find myself dozing off.”

A benign remark, and yet something inside Astarion shifts. Something he can’t fully fathom at first, a faint sense of melancholy starting to linger, despite the comfort of your touch.

He’s been called beautiful more times than he can remember, but he’ll never be able to judge for himself, being robbed of his reflection since Cazador turned him into a vampire spawn centuries ago – his own appearance remaining a dark shape from his past.

“Beauty you say?” he mumbles quietly. “Tell me then, what is it you see when looking at me?”

Your expression softens as you grasp for his hand and squeeze it lightly. It seems you’ve already caught his musings, as you often do, without him needing to vocalise that something’s on his mind.

“Well, your most outstanding features are probably your piercing eyes – crimson, like rubies,” you explain before resting a kiss on his cheek. 

Astarion listens attentively. His gaze must indeed be exceptionally sharp, he thinks, trying for a brief moment to recall the colour his eyes were before he was turned, but to no avail. A shiver runs down his spine as he wonders if you might think of him as a dangerous predator at times, uncertain whether this poses a pleasant or a frightening notion.

“Sometimes they’re full of anger, resembling freshly shed blood. And other times they’re… so soft. Reminding me of the cutest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen, almost competing with Scratch,” you giggle as you draw your thumb along his cheekbone, right where your lips parted from his skin.

Astarion stares at you in bewilderment. “What do you mean – puppy eyes?! I’m a century-old vampire spawn, not some gushing maiden.”

“You asked what I’d see when I’m looking at you, didn’t you?” You offer him a mischievous grin before blowing a strand of hair off his forehead. “Or do you prefer me to stop?” 

Astarion rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “Fine, go on.” 

Although not particularly delighted by the comparison you draw, he can’t resist the urge to listen to you further describing him.

“There are also your beautiful white curls – so smooth that I often find myself wondering which soap you use for them to stay that way,” you say as you take one of said strands between your fingers. “Come to think of it, those are probably one of my favourite parts of you, my love.”

“Mhm, I certainly have the best hair in camp,” Astarion purrs approvingly, a smug grin playing around his lips, vanishing the furrow on his brow from your previous remark.

“Don’t let Shadowheart hear,” you joke before continuing. “Of course I also adore your smile – seeing those little wrinkles when you laugh.”

Astarion’s grin freezes as he quickly feels the spot beneath his temples.

“My sweet, you surely must’ve noticed by now that one of a vampire spawn’s rare perks is eternal youth, so I’m quite positive that there are no such things as wrinkles on my face.”

“If you say so,” you chuckle as you reach for his hands to press loving kisses on his fingertips. “This was supposed to be a compliment, you know.”

“Perhaps if I wasn’t your lover, but your doting grandmother,” he grumbles with pursed lips, but doesn’t pull away. 

“I sense you desire to listen to some of your less grandmotherly features, then?”

Astarion battles another grin but loses, his lips twisting to a wry smile. “Yes, please.” 

It's true, he doesn’t want you to stop, secretly enjoying how sincere you express your sentiments.

“Let’s see if I find some, though…” you tease, earning a gentle nudge to your hip before your eyes are glued to his face again. “Honestly, you're stunningly beautiful, Astarion – a goddamn sight to behold.” 

Astarion’s smile widens at your flattery. “Oh dear, that sounds far better than being described with the attributes of an old lady.”

“As I thought,” you reply, brushing one of his curls behind his ear. “But do you want to know what I adore about you most?”

Astarion's eyes grow round. “As humble as I am, I'm always thrilled to receive some more praise.”

He notices a flush to your cheeks as you let your finger slowly trace along the bridge of his nose, until it comes to a rest on his lips. 

You clear your throat, seeming in search of the right words. 

“You’re so much more than your beauty,” you begin, your fingertip still resting on his bottom lip. He presses a kiss, his curiosity roused.

“I love the way you make me laugh, like no one else can, despite all the madness we have to endure. Or watching you reading for hours, chuckling at little passages you like. Seeing how you squint when you take in the details while you embroider a piece of fabric.” 

You pause to cup his face in your hands and smother him with gentle kisses, starting at his jaw, moving up to his nose and then his eyes. Astarion remains silent, graciously relishing your warmth. 

Your words and touch are like a balm, and not for the first time he wonders how he came to deserve such kindness.

“Your skin is cold, yes, but no one has ever kept me this warm when being in their presence. You’re brave, and despite everything you had to endure, you turned into this wonderful man I came to love more than everything I ever held dear. You're most precious to me Astarion, and I never want to spend a day without knowing you by my side.”

It’s not often that Astarion finds himself speechless, and yet your genuine affection robs him of the ability to respond. He has to hold back tears that dwell behind his fluttering lashes.

Deprived of his ability to speak he can only press a kiss to your forehead, followed by another peck to the tip of your nose, before his lips crash into yours – hastily, in need of you.

Astarion can sense your pulse quickening as his tongue enters your mouth, a soft moan escaping your lips while your hand runs through his hair. 

He gently bites your lower lip, the initial rush of his kiss replaced by a sudden tenderness, a flutter spreading right where his dead heart once beat.

Astarion has never felt like this with anyone but you. Perhaps you've turned him into a love-struck maiden after all, he thinks with a smile as he kisses you once more, gentle and soft, before your lips part and he glances at your endearing eyes, finding his voice again.

“I love you too, you cheeky little thing. Even if you have the guts to describe me like a grandmother first, and then almost make me weep from your loving words,” he chuckles while grasping the fabric of your nightgown to pull you closer against his body.

Astarion is used to conceal his emotions behind his jesting shell, and yet when he’s with you, his façade naturally crumbles.

“Guilty as charged,” you reply fondly.

“But honestly… Thank you,” Astarion speaks softly. “For seeing me, like no one else does.” His words come out raw, honest. “You know I don't pray to any of the gods, but if I did, I'm sure I would've caught myself thanking them for bringing you into my life. You're a vision, and through the time I spend with you, it almost feels like my dead heart starts beating again.”

“You’d better stop with that loving talk yourself, before we'll both start to weep,” you laugh as you reach for the corner of your eye, a single wet streak glistening on your skin.

Astarion moves up to kiss it away. “As much as I like to revel in our mutual affection, I don't wish to see more of your tears.”

“Well, perhaps we should call it a night then. I’m certain I’ll find some rest soon,” you whisper as you shift closer in the crook of his arm. 

“You truly should, as I'm positive there’ll be more shenanigans awaiting us tomorrow,” Astarion replies and places a kiss on your hair. “Sleep well, my love.”

“You too, Astarion,” you hum, sounding slightly weary again. Maybe sleep has decided in your favour after all, he thinks as he notices your breath becoming more even.

When you finally doze off in the safety of his embrace, Astarion's chest is filled with warmth over the love he holds for you.

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