#tav fluff

[lilac--sugar]

But then... whatever in the world could you be?

Summary: Astarion wakes from a nightmare with something he can only explain as hunger. He thinks he knows what he needs and goes to the one person that can give him just that. (Late act 2 I'd say) Pairing: Astarion/Tav!Reader (gn!Tav) Though, I did write it with my Tav, Kieran, in mind (pictured above). If there are any mentions that contradict this please point it out and I will gladly adjust it! 💜 Rating: M (Mostly because my blog is rated M and I'm not ok with minors interacting with it. But this is a fluff piece really.) Content Warnings: Mentions of Cazador. Astarion curses once. Word Count: 2k Author's Note: Not betaed. I did my best to comb it over. If you see any mistakes please feel free to point it out! 💜 I really wanted to write this, though. I really wanted at least one scene for Astarion that showed him getting more comfortable/familiar with intimacy that wasn't sexual while also opening up a little more. So, I wrote this to satisfy that need for myself.

Darkness grasps at his mind. Ice cold claws digging in at the nape of his neck, piercing the warm numbness of his meditative sleep. He gasps, suddenly plunged into a state of paralysis.

The claws pull his head back, make him look up into a face he’d rather not see.

“You think you can escape me?” There’s a flame spitting anger through the words. Eyes like red embers flicker, bear down into his own. He trembles in the grasp.

“Just you wait, boy,” claws dig deeper, pain intensifying as it spreads down his neck and through his whole body. He’s powerless. He tries not to weep, can’t do it for his pride, “I’ll show you pain like you’ve never known.”

His eyes widen as Cazador grins, delight dancing in the embers at Astarion’s fear.

“N-“ his tongue is stuck on the syllable, wants to scream it out, ‘no! I won’t let you! No! You can’t get me here!’

Here? Wait… That’s right. This is just-

He gasps awake, pushing himself up.

“Gods,” he whispers to himself, presses his head into his hands, “it was just a dream,” he takes in a shaky breath, “a nightmare,” he corrects himself.

None the less his body continues to tremble, goose fleshed skin broken out into a cold sweat. The fire kept alive by those on watch does nothing to warm him.

It takes him a moment, a few deep breaths and finally he’s able to pull his hands away from his face. Fear mildly subsides as a new feeling settles in. A strong… craving? It radiates from the pit of his chest. A new kind of hunger he’s not felt before.

Hunger but he can’t even fathom walking away from the safety of camp. The safety of you.

His eyes roam the area before landing on your form.

You look so delicate cuddled down into your pile of pillows. An odd request he’d noticed. You weren’t shy of asking for compensation for your help. Gold and a pillow. Every time. A pillow.

A small huff of a laugh escapes his lips.

He’d remembered the bundle on your back. How it dwarfed you as you tried to carry them all during your travels. Astarion refused to help you then only to have Halsin step in like the big knight in shining armor he is. Astarion had gotten annoyed at the time. Blamed it on Halsin having spoiled his fun of watching you struggle. Truth was he felt a pang of something. He couldn’t place it. Just hated how you’d stared at Halsin all bright eyed, smile wide on your face. He wanted that look for himself. He’d felt the sun for the first time in centuries. But he wanted to know what it felt like to be warmed to the bone. Thought he’d find it there in that look.

Of course, he’d caught a glimpse of it. The night he finally admitted his whole scheme. Worried sick he’d messed everything up. Only you flipped it around with a simple embrace. Sun be damned. That was what true warmth felt like. He’d felt guilty for being rewarded with comfort and understanding for deceiving you. Didn’t understand you one bit for it but eternally grateful you had.

He wondered. You had told him earlier in the day he could feed on you. Day after day you offer and night after night he obliges. He’s grateful for your generosity.

It’s almost like clockwork now. How he crawls over to you. Each time he feels himself get more comfortable in the act. He used to hover over you like you were a bomb that’d set off any second. He used to barely touch you. Now he has no issue. He presses a hand to your shoulder, pushes you flat on your back. He watches with amusement as your body almost instinctively bares your neck for him, highlighted by the dancing fire beside you.

He slides a knee between your legs, getting himself as close as he can. He lowers his head down next to your neck, cool lips taking pleasure against warm skin. He breathes in. For a man that so claims to detest flowers he’d never admit it, but he thinks of you as one. His favorite one. A bouquet of wildflowers. Joyous and bright. Unpredictable. He’d come across you when he had nothing in return. An empty field of dirt. One touch from you and now he’s overgrown.

He can’t explain it, why he does what he does next. He doesn’t bite. Instead, he nuzzles into you. Nose pressing under your ear, tickled by the hair there. He takes in another breath that is you. Eases in a bit more, his arms sliding behind your back. If he had any less pride, he might have flung one of your arms over him.

A tremble passes through his body, a small sob catching in his throat.

You stir under him, a groan escaping from your own. He’s quick to pull away, thinks about dashing off. You never need know he was even there.

“Star,” sleep thick your voice comes out as a croak. He freezes, keeps himself hovering over you.

“What?” He blinks back tears. He’s not sure if the word is meant for him. You’d never called him such before.

“You think your parents named you Astarion because your hair is like starlight?” your speech is sleep slurred.

“Wh- I,” a man that has something to say about everything and you’ve rendered him speechless.

You raise a hand, fingertips brushing over his soft delicate curls that frame his face. Moonbeams are caught in his hair, causes it to glow like a gentle halo around him. Your hand drifts down, settles on his cheek. Fingertips brush just under his eye and you know.

You also know that if you point it out or make a big deal he’ll just fuss and huff off. So, you do the one thing you know he’ll accept. You roll yourself over, use all your strength and flip him onto his back over the nest of pillows you’d painstakingly created. Mischief. He has a soft spot for your displays of it.

“What are you-!?” He doesn’t get the words out before you’re flopping over him, mouth pressing to his neck, you playfully bite down.

“Get off me you fowl fiend!” he cries out.

A chorus of ‘shh’ raises up from the party around them.

“Oh, fuck off!” Astarion snaps back.

A small giggle escapes you as you nuzzle yourself down into him. An arm wrapping over his chest, leg curling around one of his. You know if he had truly been upset, he wouldn't have even let you get this far in the first place. Wouldn't have let you push him. Would have chided you and stormed off by now. Instead, you feel him melt into the pillows, arms slowly wrapping around you.

“You really want me off?” you mumble into his neck, needing to check anyway for good measure. He shakes his head.

“No,” He admits, voice a little watery. You go to pull back, worried you were perhaps wrong. Only, he wraps his arms tighter around your form, pulls you back into him.

“I uh,” He lifts a hand, it coming to cup your face, palm to jaw, fingertips over your lips, he settles your head back where it had perfectly fit just a moment ago, “I had a nightmare with Cazador, again,” He says and you nod.

“I won’t let him get you,” you mumble. A ‘tch’ of a laugh escapes him.

“Optimistic,” He chides.

“One of us has to be.”

“Naive.”

“Hopeful,” you correct.

He hums.

“I promise you,” you whisper, kissing over his fingertips.

Cricket song and the pop and fizz of fire fills the space around you. The need for distraction is clear.

A kiss turns to a bite and he pulls his hand away from your face.

“Will you stop that!?” He hisses and you grin.

“Taste of your own medicine.”

“Oh please,” He places his hand over your neck now, “When I bite it’s with a lot more care and finesse! You hardly ever wake up anymore and I’m at your throat every night.”

You grin, lips curling up at the corners and he thinks you look like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. He lifts his head to get a better look at you, can see the glint in your eyes.

“You hardly ever wake up anymore, right?” He asks. In response you bury your nose into the crook of his neck.

“You smell nice,” You mumble.

Exasperated, he drops back onto the plush pillows.

“You do keep changing the subject,” A faux agonized sigh leaves him, he’d never admit this was an all too welcomed distraction, “You are infuriating, you know?”

“What is it?” You ask, ignoring his complaints. You sniff at his neck, the small puffs of air causing his skin to tingle. He closes his eyes and focuses on not laughing.

“Hmm,” Your nose slips behind his ear, nuzzles into the soft curls there, “rosemary,” hesitant, you sniff again and this time you can feel him twinge with a bit of a laugh, “brandy for sure,” You pull back, hand pressed to his chest as you hover over him.

There’s a softness in his eyes, a smile delicately placed across his lips. His hair is glowing again in the moonlight.

“Go on then,” He says, smile turning to a grin, “what else?”

You shake your head, “Can’t pin the last one.”

“Bergamot.”

“Ahh,” You roll your eyes, “Bergamot,” you carry out the first and last syllable of the word, try to flourish it with his accent, “Fancy.”

“You know me, darling,” He raises a hand and presses it to your cheek, “understated with a dash of extravagant and exceptional.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at his words. It startles him and another chorus of ‘shh’ breaks out.

“Sorry!” You whisper-shout. You duck your head into his neck, muffling the giggling as best as you can.

“I hardly think what I said was funny,” he’s trying to sound serious, but you can hear the hint of a pout to his words.

“Star, you’re about as understated as a beacon,” You pull back, a simmer of giggles still gently rolling from your chest, “Wait- Can I call you Star?”

“Uh-“

“It’s just that, your hair really does look like starlight and right now-“ well, right now you think if his body could, he’d be flushed all over, “While, yes, you are gorgeous. Sometimes I feel like when I’m with you, there’s this- light. Something,” The hand on his chest moves over his heart, “In there. It’s warm and beautiful, comforting. Like the north star, it guides me,” You’re talking a million miles a minute. Your sleep addled mind has no filter for your mouth. He stares at you, eyebrows raised, anticipating what you’ll say next even though he never knows and doesn’t know why he bothers to try, “to you.” You swallow hard, realizing you’d probably let yourself go a bit too far. His face hasn’t changed and so you try to dig yourself out, “And well- it is in your name, so-“

“Do shut up,” he says, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s different, chaste. Something new entirely and you kiss back, hoping not to break such a delicate thing.

“That would be fine,” He says as he pulls away, “But all this talking has made me rather tired, my love,” he flops back onto the pillows, “and I’d really rather not make the trek back to my bedroll,” he nestles himself back against your pillows, “Far too much hassle.”

“Right,” You nod, “completely.”

“Just don’t go thinking I’m doing this every night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And it’s really all your fault since you pinned me here. So, if anyone comments in the morning you should admit as such.”

“Yes, dear,” you settle yourself into him, curling around him. He might sleep as stiff as a plank but you were going to make it work.

When you’ve fallen asleep he realizes he’s- happy. He feels satiated somehow without a drop of your blood. Don’t get him wrong, he’d probably partake in the next few hours. But for now, right now, the pit in his chest felt full.

“Gods, where were you?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your forehead. A sleepy groan leaves you as you stir, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt over his heart.

Perhaps. Perhaps you were there the whole time. The seed of his hopes. Every damned prayer he said to every God. Someone listened, someone took that tiny seed and from it grew you. And here you were, though not to ruin him. No. But to help him.

“Took you long enough,” He mutters, a small laugh escaping him. He takes your hand in his own, lets your warmth sink into his fingers. He couldn’t just yet bring himself to thank whatever God made it possible. He thought maybe one day. Right now he didn’t care much for anything beyond the two of you right here.

For the first time in a long time he dreams of life in the sunlight. You there next to him, as he basks in the warmth of your bright eyes and wide smile.

My masterlist

[pedros-immaculate-vibes]

A Peaceful Elf

Part IX

Halsin/Tav fanfic (slow burn, fluff, angst)

Halsin spent a good portion of the afternoon and evening patrolling. It always steadied him, made his heart lighter. Tav didn’t seem to mind the time alone, either. In a camp normally spent with several others, time alone when you wanted was a luxury. Apparently, it was a luxury they both enjoyed.

Dinner consisted of ingredients he had found in the woods while securing the nearby area: puréed sweet potato with a wild onion/celery/carrot base, some assorted spices sprinkled in. Roasted garlic cloves (a little burnt) on leftover bread Gale had made recently. A leafy carrot stalk garnish. Not something he thought would be served by a finer cook, but he took some pride in what he’d managed, all the same.

“My, my, look at this spread,” Tav reached out for the plate and bowl, steam wafting off of the food and into the night air in curls. “Is this because you feel bad for my leg or because it’s hard to make food this pretty for eight grown buffoons?” She closed her eyes as the aroma reached her. “Helm’s beard, that smells amazing.”

A deep laugh rumbled in Halsin’s chest. “I’ve been alive for 350 years with plenty of that time spent out in the wilds. If I couldn’t cook with what nature provided by now, I could scarcely call myself a grown elf, let alone a druid.” He sat down on a chair next to Tav, and kicked his feet up on the other cot. “And mostly because of your leg.” They ate in an oddly comfortable silence for a few minutes, until a light tension seemed to flow between them. Tav was the first to cut it.

—

“So,” in between mouthfuls, and having more gumption with a mostly full belly, “Tell me more about yourself. I feel like we’ve been traveling for weeks,” swallows a mouthful, “you’ve probably saved my life twice now: when the gnolls came and you healing my leg right afterward,” another spoonful, “and I feel like I still haven’t gotten to know you properly yet.”

He paused, thoughtfully looking at his bowl, “It’s true, and I can’t imagine I helped with that. Sometimes, I can let the task at hand consume me,” a huff like a tired laugh, and he lifted his head to look out at the night sky beyond the tent canopy, “people have said I can get a bit obsessed. Ha, believe me,” he looked back down at his bowl, scraping for another spoonful, “the day I no longer have to talk about the shadow curse will be a very happy one,” almost rueful. Then, his face brightened a few shades and he looked at you, “What would you like to know?”

You nestled your now empty bowl on top of a pack near the cot, and propped your head up with an arm. You decided to go for something obvious and smiled to yourself. “Well, for starters, you’re kind of LARGE for an elf, aren’t you?”

Halsin smiled in shock, “I AM?” in an incredulous tone.

Chuckling, he continued, “Trust me, it’s been said. You’ve shown more restraint than most in avoiding the subject until now.” He sighed. “It’s a natural question but I have no good answer, I’m afraid. Perhaps, there’s a half-orc buried somewhere deep in my ancestry,” shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Or perhaps not. Sometimes, I think conventional wisdom is too narrow about what a person can or can’t be. Stranger things have happened, to be sure.” He rose and took your bowl on top of his, bringing them to the wash bucket near the center of camp. “Anything else?” he offered, smirking back at you while scrubbing the dishes clean.

“I don’t know, let me think a minute,” pensively drumming your fingers on your lips.

Halsin chuckled again. He seemed to enjoy this game, as did you.

Placing the dishes to dry on a towel-covered crate, he began strolling back to the tent.

“I’ve got one: how did you come to be a Druid?”

“Ah, that is a good one,” he nodded, sitting back down in the chair with an Umph and stretching his long legs out onto the cot once again, crossed at his ankles. He looked up at the tent ceiling, calm as he recollected. “I had a friend when I was young, long ago. He played with me in the forests where I grew up…eventually, I realized no one else had heard of him. His name was Thaniel.” A light chuckle, “Nature was my very first friend. I continued to age, but he never changed a day.” A look of loyalty shined in his face. “I knew then that I had to be more than just a companion to him, I had to be a protector.”

That’s quite noble, you thought, not surprised in the slightest. “Hm, that’s a good reason.”

“I thought so,” his smile had a hint of sadness.

You could see the shadow of melancholy and decided it was time for a new question. “What’s something I would never think to ask?”

Halsin brightened. “Ha, alright, let’s see,” he bit the inside of his cheek while he thought, knitting his fingers behind his head and flexing his thick arms back.

His arms—

He gave you a sideways glance, “Um, I suppose you wouldn’t be shocked to learn I like animals and nature?” he said self-consciously, as if he were telling a hackneyed joke to an audience. “Haha, I know, well-trodden territory,” he looked back up at the tent ceiling. It was cute to see him with his guard down; it made you wonder how often he had ever let it down at camp.

“Hm, let’s see,” he continued, genuinely trying to find something unique about himself worth telling; that exercise alone made him uncharacteristically off-balance. “Well, I—uh, whittle in my spare time?” He intoned as if asking for validation. “And I have something of a sweet tooth, although everyone is always very amused when I say ‘I like honey’,” a quick exhale through his nose showed mild irritation.

“Oh, really?” You were genuinely surprised, unsure as to why, and you wanted to make sure he knew you were interested in what he had to say. It came across as if no one had asked him something like this in a long time, if ever. “What do you whittle?”

Momentum jumped back into his answer, “Oh, a few things. Ornaments, utensils,” he paused, lost in thought for a moment, “and ducks. I like ducks.” He looked back down at you with one of the purest smiles you had ever seen in (what you could remember of) your life.

You adjusted your chin to the palm of your hand and your head to your shoulder with a quiet laugh, “So you turn into a bear and you like honey?” You lifted your eyebrow with a smile. “That’s a little on the nose, don’t chya think?” You couldn’t stop your eyes from softening; there was something about him…

“I like what I like,” he stated, then added with a humorous, confident air, “Once you get to my age, you realize there’s no point in denying yourself, so long as other’s aren’t affected.” 

Simple as that.

I wonder what else he doesn’t deny himself… 

You could feel your blood begin to ignite, again.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” You didn’t fight the flame this time; it was exhausting and futile and would make you awkward and conspicuous. Instead, you found solace in the fact that you wouldn’t act on the flame, however high it razed you. You settled further into your cot and blankets, beginning to feel drowsy. “Thank you for sharing,” you nodded, daintily.

A quiet smile painted his face and he rested his arms down, turning in his chair to face you a bit more. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Thank me by returning the favor. Come on, I’m sure you’ve got something better than carving ducks,” he added, playfully.

“Ha, well, okay, um…” seconds passed while you thought. You rolled onto your back (so you would be less distracted by him) and stretched your arms up and behind your head. “I don’t remember much from before the crash…Oh, here’s one: I love fields of flowers, but I’d rather have a field full of herbs, like marjoram or cilantro or mint, any day,” you perked up. “They smell deep and green—complex. It’s hard to explain—like, there’s more to them than the vibrance that lasts until a light frost. Let’s see…what else,” you scrunched your face up at the gently undulating tent fabric. “Ah! I’m deathly afraid to try Lae’zel’s cooking.” You both snickered. “Would I trust her with my life? Absolutely, unless that involved a spatula.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, still smiling to himself. A few pleasant seconds passed. He sighed and began to stand up. “Well, I should get back to my studies. Thank you for the company,” he bowed his head minutely like a gentleman and began to leave the tent when—

“Wait.”

He waited.

“I—So, I don’t know how to ask without it sounding strange…” you looked pensively at your feet. “When all of us were here, it made sense to have separate tents. We all made a perimeter. But we’ve gone from eight to two…”

“…You want me to stay…”

“Even if only until I fall asleep,” you looked back up at him, trying very hard not to sound pathetic. “I keep imagining something coming in the middle of the night,” whether it was a gnoll or a butler, you couldn’t decide. You just knew it felt like it would be a restless night, and you were still an easy target. “If you did stay, well, four ears are better than two,” you chuckled weakly, hoping that including logic into your request would help.

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re not wrong. Perhaps…perhaps it would be wisest,” his expression shifting from strained to relenting. “Do you mind if I study with a lantern on?”

Relief flooded you. “Not. At. All.”

He smiled back, “Right. Then, I’ll be back.”

Grateful he took the request the way you had intended, you relaxed back into the makeshift pillow. It would still be a restless night knowing everyone was out doing gods-know-what, but having at least one other person nearby at night made you feel safer, if only by a fraction.

And the fact that it was him…you couldn’t decide if that comforted you or put you more on edge.

I wonder if he snores.

—

Halsin returned to the tent, batting away an errant moth, books stacked neatly in hand. Atop the tomes sat a mirror. “I forgot to tell you, Astarion wanted you to have this,” he mentioned, handing Tav the glass. “He said you might be in need of it.”

“Where those his exact words?”

Halsin looked away, busying himself with preparing the newly claimed cot. “More or less.”

“HA, I’m sure. You’re a bad liar, bear-man, but that’s a good fault to have. Gods, he can be a prick, sometimes.”

“Hm, that’s bear-elf, to you,” he grinned. Another lull before he spoke, “I do not pretend to understand your relationship with him, but I believe he meant it as a kind gesture.”

Tav held it thoughtfully, “I know. He always adds a bit of salt to the sweetness.” She paused, “He can be hard to get close to, at times.”

“Mm, he probably has some very good reasons for that. People often do. Perhaps, his trust has been broken one too many times, and you are the first to challenge that pattern.”

Tav looked at him strangely, like he was the first to ever say birds could fly or trees came from seeds. “Perhaps.” She clearly wished to change the subject, and asked in a milder tone, “What books do you have this time?”

“More literature regarding cursed lands and the Underdark, nothing more,” he replied lightly, reordering them on the table before sitting in the cot. It creaked and stretched audibly. He held one in his hands, hair rustling around his downturned face as he began to study.

—

The way he said “literature” made your brain tick pleasantly.

“You seem to take the shadow curse very to heart,” you noted.

“Well there’s hardly anyone left to share the responsibility with,” he looked up from the first page. “What Ketheric released onto Moonrise is not something that nature can resist alone. I must do what I can.”

“That must be a heavy burden to carry alone,” you mused solemnly. “Do you know how it can be stopped?”

“Perhaps,” he angled his head from side to side, considering, “but we need to get closer before I can put my theory to practice. Put it from your mind for now. Once we near the curse, then there will be more to be said.”

If you hadn’t been so tired, you might have put up more of a fight; there were clearly things he hadn’t shared regarding where your journey took you. 

Instead, your eyes focused on moths fluttering around one of the strung up lanterns in the tent, and with each passing breath, you slid further from the waking world, hearing “Rest, dear one,” somewhere between life and dreams.

[faundlydreaming]

Once Loved, Twice Loathed- Bg3 Fic

Summary: Fi unknowingly has feelings for Astarion but is the queen of denial, and only believes it to be a sexual attraction. She doesn't know what to do with said attraction and wants to be more confident in being sexy and alluring. So why not go to her bestie Karlach for advice? Unfortunately for Fi, Karlach's advice comes in the form of a smut book. Astarion catches wind and shenanigans ensue.

Characters: Astarion, Fi (Tav), Karlach contents: fluff, talking of feelings/crushes, playful nonsexual teasing, romantic advice, smut book warnings: mentions and quotes from smut book word count: 2,500

author notes: This is basically my first time writing a fan fic. :D I thought it'd be cute to write some fluff between my tav, Fi, Karlach, and Astarion

The unforgiving sun beat down on the encampment. Its heat battled with the cool breeze making the weather tolerable. Distant chatting and the sound of snoring from an afternoon nap joined the piercing screams of cicadas. Thank the Gods, after the constant battle for their lives the day was forgivingly lazy.

Fi squinted at Karlach’s tent as her fists clenched at her sides.  A cold, wet nose nudged her knuckles knocking her out of her reverie. She brushed her fingers along Sasha’s muzzle giving a weak smile to the wolf in turn. With nerve-ridden steps, Fi had sought out Karlach to ask advice worthy of heated cheeks and thumping heart: how to be confident when flirting with someone. A certain someone who, at the very thought of, caused the shorter tiefling to cringe in embarrassment. Crushes were such childish things, weren’t they? The lack of any healthy romantic experiences in her past didn’t help.

“Why is your mom like this?” Fi asked the wolf. Sasha tilted her head, her long tail giving a slow wag in response to the tiefling.

“Copper for your thoughts?” 

Fi jumped, her eyes snapping onto the much taller Karlach as she sucked in a breath. “Oh gods you scared the shit out of me.”

“Scared you at my own tent? You’re jumpier than usual, what brings you here, soldier?”

“Nothing at all, I just came to say hi-AHH,” Fi nursed the nip from her hand, giving a curl of her lip to the wolf who refused to let her escape. “Ugh, I came for advice.”

“Advice? On what?” Karlach asked.

Fi grumbled, her fingers now finding one another as she stared at her flame-haired friend with narrowed eyes. 

“Advice on flirting. With people. Certain people.” The smaller tiefling played with a white lock of her hair as her crimson eyes darted away from Karlach.

“Oh?” Karlach’s face slowly lit up as she gasped into a wide smile. Fi hadn’t once met someone who’s eyebrows rose higher than at this moment. “Are you talking about Ast-“

“Karlach, do you want to give me advice or not?” 

“Do I ever. Tell me all of the details, don’t spare anything.” Karlach swung an arm around Fi’s shoulders and dragged the woman into her tent. The once-soldier plopped onto the ground cross-legged and pulled Fi down next to her. “Okay. Go.”

Trust. It was a concept that had been so battered from others in her past that the idea of explaining everything to Karlach caused her to hesitate. Karlach’s copper eyes bore into her own, innocent with anticipation. The other tiefling was the closest to a best friend Fi had ever gotten. Now, the decision was to extend that trust to her, or to push her away? She held Karlach’s gaze until her joyous expression began to fall in concern. It was a leap, but did it really need to be so grave?

“Just… don’t judge me, I’m a grown adult and yet I feel like a kid.” Fi drew her knees up to her chest as she absentmindedly stroked Sasha’s head.  She went on to explain her interactions with Astarion up until that moment. Like their first ‘exciting’ meeting with his blade to her throat, the consequential struggle to free herself from him, and the restraint it took not to meet her boot to his face. Or the curious shade of red in his eyes, similar yet more somber than her own and the sharp piercing of his fangs on her neck. She’d allowed him to drink her blood from her wrist thereon, but that fool of a man had the worst ideas at times. Yes, let us go after someone’s blood as they are sleeping surrounded by predatory animals. Kudos to the rogue, however, since he managed to get as close as he did.

Then there was that fateful night of the tiefling party where she’d somehow found herself sleeping with the man. Liquor was a hells of a thing.

“I knew you got some ass that night! And you let him bite your neck? Didn’t expect my girl to be so kinky.” 

“Karlach.” It took one look to shut that woman up. A quick glance around them proved that no one had heard that particular outburst. She sighed, maybe talking was a mistake.

“The best advice I can give you is advice you don’t want to hear.”

“And that is?”

“Be yourself.” Fi groaned and Karlach fell into chest-heaving laughter.

“That does nothing. Have you even met me? “

“Yes! And you’re absolutely perfect. Now go get ‘em soldier.”

Fi played with the velvet-soft ear of Sasha. “I have to say, I got nothing from this conversation.”

“That ain’t true, give me a second.” Karlach sprung to her feet and rummaged through a nearby trunk. She pulled out a book and tossed it at the other tiefling. Fi caught it, eyes flickering over the cover before she stared at Karlach with the flattest expression she could manage.

“What?” Karlach asked. ”I’ve gotten plenty of ideas from this series. Sexy ideas. I’m sure you’ll be inspired too.”

“I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

“That’s the spirit, Lil’ Fi!” Lil’ Fi and Mama K, what a pair they were. The ranger-bard rose to her feet, shooting a sharp whistle to Sasha as the wolf stood up. The canine padded up to Karlach and gave her a big, slobbery kiss before turning to follow her mother.

“If this fails me it’s going to be all your fault, Karlach.” A beat of silence. “Who am I kidding? Knowing me I’ll be my own demise.”

“Just remember what I said, be yourself.” Karlach gave an exaggerated wink and Fi stalked off with Sasha.

•••

Once Loved, Twice Loathed. The book was well loved, its worn edges and dreaded cracked spine proof of that. The book Karlach shoved in her hands was the first in the My Most Beloved Betrayer series. Flirtation was a concept all too uncanny to the tiefling. She sat within her tent, leaning back on Sasha as the wolf’s pale fur brushed up against and enveloped her in an uncomfortable warmth. Kilbern, Fi’s raven, was nestled in his usual spot within the curl of Sasha’s tail and sat with his eyes closed, oil-slick hued feathers giving the occasional twitch. Fi gripped the book in her fingers scanning over the cover for the umpteenth time.

It featured a roguish, bare-chested male half-elf cradling an ornery, female drow. She flipped to the first chapter and settled in to read. Far too long did Fi focus on the first paragraph, reading it multiple times over to no avail. With a huff of annoyance, she set the book down in her lap and nearly gave up. Nearly. From the tent across from her she spotted Karlach doing gods-knew what. The other tiefling in turn, spotting Fi, gave a lopsided grin with an exaggerated double thumbs up. Fi’s body rose and fell with a full sigh. She loved Karlach, but sometimes her closest friend had her wanting to shove her own face in the sand from embarrassment. At least Karlach tried. Fi wouldn't dare share these thoughts with anyone else in camp. Except for Wyll. The Blade of Frontiers had a brotherly feel. He was also the least insane of their group and given his deal with a literal devil, that was saying a lot.

 She opened the book once again and stared at the first page. And stared. And stared. This wouldn’t do. She could have all of the patience in the world for a good hunt or for stalking an elusive target, but when it came to something like reading a crotch novel for romantic advice, it evaporated into the ether. 

Gods, why couldn’t she just read a dirty book like the very mature, very experienced, high-esteemed adult that she was? It was just smut. She wasn’t a child to be defeated by the threats of maturity. Fi thumbed through a few more pages before picking a random one to find a more interesting passage.

The man looked cooly towards the drow as her red eyes, shining with power, narrowed with glee. She pressed a pointed finger to his forehead, pushing until he fell to his knees, his gaze never releasing hers. 

‘Sit.’ Her finger moved to trace his jawline and hook beneath his chin, forcing him to keep his eyes on hers as her heels dug into his chest, pushing him onto his back. ‘Good boy.’’

Everything was going as expected so far, what was she so afraid of anyway? Fi chuckled to herself, flipping the page until a dastardly intrusive thought wove itself into her consciousness. The man in her imagination was no longer from the book, but instead, replaced with her. The ice-cold expression of the drow was now Astarion and his stupid little grin. It was his finger that had hooked beneath her chin, his eyes boring into her, his smile that-

 Oh my gods. She couldn’t do this. The embarrassment was agonizing. Fi shoved the intrusive thought back into the deep crevices of her tadpole-infected brain and set the book down on her lap. For a long moment she stared at the ground in front of her, studying the intricate, weaving patterns of the rug she’d placed at the bottom of her tent. No, she needed to read on, this time promising to herself that she wouldn’t let her wayward thoughts get the better of her. She skipped a few more chapters ahead.

‘The seductress railed the half-elf with her strap-on until he could no longer beg her to allow him orgasmic release.”

The book promptly closed. Exploring these feelings was allowed. It was natural after all, wasn’t it? To want to explore this part of herself in the relative safety of her own mind? A place where she could fight the self-judgment she felt due to her sordid past? Fi could allow herself to enjoy this moment, learning from this clearly very Official Guidebook to Sex at her own leisure. Perhaps, she might dare say, it was okay that  instead of the protagonists, she imagined herself with this man who she’d slept with at the tiefling party many moons ago. She shuddered a sigh through her nose. How pathetic he’d think of her at this moment when he’d been so upfront about his desires. Deep inside, she knew from the tightness in her chest and ache in her throat that things like sex were more complex than that.

Fine. These thoughts were as well-protected as she could manage given the telepathy their tadpoles would occasionally grant. Fi began to read yet again, loosening the leash she held on herself in the words and actions of the protagonists who explored one another’s bodies. The warmth spread through her cheeks tingling with a quiet shyness as her eyes skipped through the words in haste. Her desire was tentative, though yearning, to replace the protagonists with herself and the elf she hopelessly pined for. Not romantically, of course. Never. Just, physically. She absolutely lost herself in Karlach’s filthy novel.

“Dare I say, you look quite taken by that book you’re so enthralled with. What title has your fancy, hm?” 

With a startled yelp, Fi did the only thing she could possibly do in that moment. With one smooth movement, she clutched the book, arched her hand back, and chucked it as far from her tent as she could straight into the middle of camp. From above, the pale elf was almost invisible against the sunlight that bathed him making his expression indiscernible. She didn’t need to see his face to tell what his expression must have been.

“I’ve never seen you move so quickly. Impressive, really.”

“What do you want, Astarion?”

“As I said,” and he grinned with a bit of fang, “I wanted to see what you were so focused on reading. What was it, adventure? Romance? Something more?”

Fi sat up as he continued rambling, his guesses becoming more and more lewd as he went on. “If you’re not here for a good reason then go away. You caught me off guard, is all. Go chug a rat or something.”

Her tail tip whipped against the ground as he stepped into the shade, his features becoming more clear as he stared down at her.

“Oh, if you insist. But first, why don’t I do you a favor and go fetch it for you?” Red eyes gleamed with innocence as he flicked a wrist in the direction of the book. How many times would she be sighing of frustration today?

“No thanks. I’ll get it myself.” Fi shifted onto her knees when she froze, blinking a few times to get a clear view of where the book had landed. It was gone. She gave a tilt of her head, eyes narrowing as Astarion followed her gaze in curiosity. With a flash of feathers, Kilbern appeared above Astarion, dropping an object from his talons into the elf’s hands and landing smoothly into the tent with bristling pride. She’d never noticed he’d even left.

“Here, mother. This is what you wanted, right?” Kilbern preened his feathers for good measure.

“Have I failed you that much as a mother, Killy?” Fi shrank in defeat as she stared at her bird who cocked his head in confusion. Not one to take an opportunity for granted, Astarion had already devoured the title of the book and flipped through a few of the pages, the grin on his face growing wider, more asshole-ish.

“Darling, if you were feeling that pent up you could have just come to fetch me.” He leaned down, his face close to hers as he whispered in her ear. “No need to be so shy. We could always pick up where we left off?” 

Fi’s eyes widened as she pushed his face away with her palm. “Not a chance. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean, the sight of watching you squirm? Perhaps a little.”

“I hate you.” “The feeling isn’t mutual, darling.”

“Alright, ‘harass Fi’ time is over. Go be a sexy vampire elsewhere.”

The low timbre of his voice rose to an amused lilt. “You think I’m sexy? I’m not surprised, it’s me, after all.”

“Out!” Yet another projectile launched from her hand, this time an embroidered pillow, and this time at his face. He dodged with ease, turning around to walk away with a shrug of his shoulders and that strange, trilly laugh of his.

“If you change your mind you know which tent to find me.”

Fi was done with sighs. This time she just stared at his retreating back, turned to glare at her bird, and flumped straight into Sasha’s side.

“I’m never listening to Karlach’s advice again.” Her words were muffled through fur and the heavy weight of shame. That was a lie. Not only would she finish Once Loved, Twice Loathed, but the entire series of My Most Beloved Betrayer.

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Astarion likes missionary sex. Likes being able to see his love’s face and the way their body reacts to his.

He loves being able to lace his fingers with theirs, and press their hands to the mattress. It grounds him just as much as the steady eye contact does. Doesn’t matter if he has to coax them into it, murmuring “eyes on me, darling” as he rolls his hips into theirs.

He loves the way he can hold them close to his chest as he comes with their thighs wrapped around him, completely engulfed in one another.

[riseatlantisss]

Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

morning sex. in bed. with the most amazing vampire. that’s it that’s the plot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW : 18+, shameless smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, tiny bit of fang kink

I love him a completely normal amount

You open your eyes slowly, savouring the blissful, heavy fog of sleep that still weighs on your mind. The voice that greets you is one you’re sure you’ll never tire of.

“Good morning, my sweet”, Astarion whispers against your ear. The bed smells of night-blooming flowers and cold winter air, just like him. His body is a comforting spoon, the nice coolness of his powerful chest sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyelids are still heavy and with a smile, you settle back in and bury your head in your soft pillow, eager for just a few more hours of precious sleep before starting a new day in the underdark.

Astarion, of course, has other ideas. He exhales and you can feel the light puff of cold air against the back of your neck. Icy fingers skate down your bare arm, dragging the strap of your night gown with them. He dips his head and nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He toys with the hem of your night gown before slipping beneath it to caress the curve of your hip. You revel in his low groan of appreciation as he discovers you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Gods, the things you do to me,” he growls, voice muffled slightly as he breathes your scent. “Let me take care of you.”

Wordlessly, you nod and he wastes no time. He gives you a sloppy, hungry kiss that is all tongues, teeth and fangs, and then slowly lowers himself. His fangs leave burning trails across your skin, and you love every bit of it.

You can feel his erection grow next to your thigh and you raise a hand forward to touch him but he grabs your wrist and stops the motion. 

“No, darling,” he grins, “it is all about you today.”

“But –” your attempt to argue is cut short as Astarion disappears between your thighs, wraps his wet lips around your clit and starts sucking. You let out an unbelievably loud whimper of pleasure and he smirks against your body.

Pinning your thighs apart, he works his tongue in an up-and-down motion on one side of your clit and then the other. You grind into his mouth shamelessly as his tongue continues working its magic. Without interruption, he slips first one finger, then two inside you, and pushes them up against your G-spot. You’re already starting to see stars as you feel his fangs settle in the soft mound of flesh above your clit. He applies just enough pressure for it to deliciously sting without ever hurting. Those tiny pinpricks combined with the sucking of your clit and the impossible rhythm of his fingers inside you made you cry out.

“Astarion – I’m– “ you try to articulate between two heavy breaths.  

“I’m right there with you, my love,” he mutters and presses his fangs slightly deeper into your skin, as to urge you to stop fighting the wave of pleasure trying to make its way through your shivering body.  

His tongue slips across that one spot on the tip of your clit that always sets you off, and suddenly you are coming on his mouth, grasping fistfuls of his silver hair and moaning and moaning and moaning. He pushes his fangs deeper and deeper into your skin as he rides out your orgasm with you, using his free hand to hold your hips steady. Your core spasms longer than a pulsing heart, each beat making you thrash helplessly on the bed as he pushes his fingers deep. ​​He waits until you come down from your high before slowly sliding his two fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean. The rest of the world begins to come back into focus but you do not care for it. You only have eyes for him.  

​​"You are absolutely exquisite when you come," he chuckles in that ridiculously arrogant way he has.

He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat. You haul him up and into your arms and kiss him hard. He wraps his strong arms around you protectively and takes a moment to listen to your breathing, still shallow from the love explosion. He finds infinite comfort in the repeated rise and fall of your chest. It proves to him that you are real, safe and here, right next to him. 

Before you, Astarion had never known true bliss. Sex – even when it’s mindblowing – doesn’t fix the part of you that’s broken. Good sex soothes, but doesn’t cure, and Astarion, who’s been using sex as a valium substitute since he’s been free from his former Master’s control, knows it better than anyone. But with you, it’s not just sex. It’s safety. It’s intimacy. It’s respect. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

[neckromantics]

More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

~

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

~

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

~

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

~

Please, I beg. Give me more.

[feyascorner]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

[frantic-fiction]

Lose Yourself 18+

Pic: @casualya (side note....hot 🥵)

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: During a feeding Astarion gets worked up and a bit too excited. He's embarrassed, but it turns out Tav finds it incredibly hot.

Warmings: Smut MDNI, Premature ejaculation, dry humping, fingering, PnV Sex, overstimulation, comfort sex, blood

Word Count: 2.2k

Astarion's grip tightens against your jaw, tilting your head slightly more to give him better access to your neck. The initial chill of his bite has settled to a delicious icy throb. A moan rips from your kiss-swollen lips, relishing the feeling of your blood flowing into his greedy mouth. You scratch your nails against Astarion’s scalp, combing through his tousled curls. A smile streches you lips when a shiver runs down his spine, and the hand grabbing your thigh tightens.

The majority of Astarion’s body weight is blanketing you. His hips slotted between your parted legs, mindlessly grinding against the inside of your thigh, too consumed by your blood to be fully in control. You rub his back, shoulders, neck, any skin you can get you wandering hands on and whispering sweet nothings into his ear. This has him purring into your neck and rutting faster against your body, chasing more pleasure.

This night, you had made sure to stock up on extra health potions and lesser restoration scrolls so Astarion could have his fill without worry of any repercussions on your health come morning. 

And gods, you will be sure to make this a ritual from now on because seeing Astarion so lost in your body’s comfort, so relaxed and focused solely on his pleasure. It has your heart pounding and arousal pooling between your thighs. 

Feeling the telltale signs that it’s time for Astarion to stop, you grab tightly at his shoulder giving him a little shake. “Star,” you slur. 

Astarion sighs through his nose, taking one last sip before unlatching from your neck. He’s still lost in the haze of his feeding, eyes glossy and unfocused, trying desperately to meet your gaze. Tiny trickles of blood fall down his chin and onto your chest, where he messily laps the droplets with his tongue. Astarion’s hips are still pistoning against you, and little breathless gasps of pleasure escape his mouth. You swear you’ve never seen a more gorgeous sight. Then Astarion tenses, and with a choked sob of your name falls from his mouth, and he comes spilling onto your stomach.

The room stills.

Only the sounds of rapid breaths fill the room. Astarion’s eyes are wide open, and his mouth is agape, looking down at the mess on your stomach. You’re frozen, glued to the beads of sweat trailing down Astarion’s chest, moving down the planes of his stomach. 

“Shit,” he backs away. An embarrassed flush–only evident due to the recent blood consumption– floods his face moving all the way to the points of his ears.

“Fuck,”  you whimper needily, clenching against the rush of heat that simmers in your stomach.

Then Astarion lets you go, and you finally notice Astarion’s distress.

“I-that…shit,” Astarion stumbles over his words and hands you a cloth to clean yourself with. “I’m so–”

You pounce, and he catches you in his arms, looking startled. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence?” You growl, claiming his mouth in a chaste kiss, chasing the metallic taste off his lips. “That was so fucking hot.”

He clicks his tongue and lets go of you again. Backing away, Astarion starts picking up his scattered clothes. “Yes, I’m sure watching me cream myself like a boy being touched for the first time was just so attractive.” Astarion huffs and rolls his eyes. “Spare me,”

Feeling annoyed, you huff, knowing you need a different approach. Moving closer, you grab the clothes from Astarion’s hand, throw them to the side, and cup his jaw. You draw him into another kiss and trail a hand up the smooth skin of his chest, stopping to circle your thumb around his nipple. Astarion signs into your mouth and runs both his hands down your naked sides, pausing to squeeze your hips.

“My love, that was by far one of the most sexy things I’ve ever seen.” Voice low and seductive, your lips barely pulling away from him. “Seeing you lose control, drunk on my blood, on my body,” 

Astarion shudders when you scratch your nails lightly down his chest before taking his hand in yours. Smiling wickedly, you peck his lips and pull away, ensuring he can see eyes. 

“Hells, Star,” Pulling him, you guide his fingers to your dripping heat. “I’ve never been so turned on.”

This has the desired effect. Astarion’s nimble fingers instinctually begin exploring, and you bite back a moan. He pulls away quickly to examine his slick, covered digits. When Astarion meets your gaze, all embarrassment seems to vanish, and he’s pushing you back down onto the bed. He rests his forearms on either side of you, cradling your head. Astarion trails a thumb over the curve of your jaw. Your hands snake around his neck. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to having Astarion look at you like he is now. Like you hung the moon and crafted each star so he would never be alone at night. It overwhelms you with such love that all you can do is pull him down and capture his lips. The kiss has no urgency, just two lovers enjoying the soft embrace. It holds the warmth of a crackling campfire, its embers building to something that leaves you needing more. 

Astarion coaxes your mouth open, and when you grant him access, he leads your tongue in a practiced dance. Feeling the tease of his razor-sharp fang, you moan, cupping the back of his head. You match the growing pace, hooking one leg over Astarion's hip to pull him flush against your body.

A groan rumbles through Astarion’s chest, and he gives a playful bite to your bottom lip, earning a squeak you will deny if asked about later. One of his hands moves down to delicately play with your breast, kneading softly before pinching your nipple between his finger and thumb. You break the kiss with a breathless gasp, tugging at Astarion’s roots, forcing a ragged groan from the elf. Astarion wastes no time to pepper kisses down the column of your neck.

“I don’t think I tell you enough, just how beautiful you are, darling.” He mumbles against your collarbone before sucking a bit of skin into his mouth and playfully teasing it between his teeth. 

You chuckle, swing your other leg, and link them behind his back. “You tell me at least once a day, handsome,”

“You’re such a sap.” You tease and roll your hips up against Astarion’s cock, already swelling once again.

“See, not nearly enough.” He pulls away from the freshly marked skin.

“You, my love, are so breathtaking, exquisite, beautiful,” Astarion emphasizes each adjective with wet, open-mouth kisses down to your chest before beginning to suck another mark just above your heart.

He grunts, grinding back against you. “Only for you, my love.” 

Astarion’s hand moves between your bodies to your neglected pussy. His deft fingers enter you with a wet squelch, and you instinctively buck into his palm. A whimper leaves your lips, and you dig your nails into the skin of Astarion’s shoulder. He set a pace that is both agonizing and toe-curling perfect. 

“See what you’ve reduced me to, darling,” Astarion whispers sinfully, voice low and filled with temptation, his thumb finds your clit. He applies light pressure rubbing tight circles. 

You throw your head, arching your back, clamping your thighs tighter around his waist. “Fuck, Star.” 

Astarion picks up his pace just a notch; his mouth finds your neck again. “It’s all your fault.” He says before biting your ear.

You cry out his name, fisting the bedsheet, feeling the familiar coil building. You are so lost in your pleasure you barely notice Astarion is now rubbing his cock with his spare hand looking down at you with lidded eyes.

“M close Star.” You cry, bucking your hips against his palm. “Fuck.. don’t stop.”

“I am now merely a sappy, love-sick fool who just can’t control myself when it comes to you.”

Astarion is now pumping his fingers in and out of your sopping-wet cunt in a way that has your orgasm building quickly.

“That’s it, darling,” He groans, kissing you softly. “Let go for me,”

Electricity pulses through you, seizing every muscle, every nerve, and every cell of your body with blinding pleasure. You’re moaning and babbling nonsense and pulling him into a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. Astarion continues his ministrations, helping you ride out your orgasm. Finally, when the heat simmers down, he pulls his fingers from your body, leaving you whining from the loss. 

Astarion is quick to put your whines at ease. “Will you give me one more, my love, please?” Astarion practically begs, kissing you with the desperation of a starving man. 

The tip of his swollen cock slides through your folds and teases your sensitive entrance. You barely have time to choke out a yes, please, before Astarion is plunging into you with a grunt. Instinctually, you clench around his length, loving the feel of the fullness Astarion always gives you. 

“Shit..so tight,” Astarion groans and begins to thrust frantically into your heat. “Always so perfect.”

“Astarion.”

All decency, coordination, and softness was tossed away. Both of you were too sensitive, too desperate for the other, to care for anything but mindless pleasure. It was messy, feral, and perfect. Astarion devoured your mouth, groaning against your tongue. His hands couldn’t seem to stay in one place, constantly caressing, grabbing, and massaging any part of you he could hold. 

You spread your legs wide and angled your hips, bucking against each one of Astarion’s deep thrusts. One of your hands cups Astarion’s jaw, keeping him close, and the nails of your other rake down his back, causing a violent shiver to run through Astarion’s body.

“M-more..ugh, please.” You gasp out between Astarion’s feverish kisses.

He nods in return and grunts into your open mouth. “Shit..ugh,”

With a strength you hope never to get used to, Astarion effortlessly switches your positions. Your hands are on his chest, knees framing his slim waist. He’s on his back, smirking smugly up at you. You giggle dumbly, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement. That giggle turns into a wanton moan as Astarion thrusts up into you, hitting a deeper spot inside of you.

“Yes... Star.” Using the hold he has on your hips, he moves your body to pick up the brutal pace from before. “Gods,”

You bounce on your knees in time with his thrusts, and the room is filled with the slick sound of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of ecstasy. The pleasure is almost too much, and you feel the pressure bubbling again. You try to say as much, but a wave of pleasure has you gasping mindlessly, head lolling to the side.

Astarion wants to feel you come undone around him. Lose yourself so he can lose himself with you. So you oblige his request and snake a hand between your legs just above where Astarion is fucking you and begin to rub your clit in time with his quick thrusts. 

“Love, fuck..ngh,” he chokes on a moan. His thrusts are faltering and getting sloppier.

“T-touch yourself for me... I’m close.” He trails off grunting, but you don’t need words to know what he wants.

It’s all too much, the angle of Astarion’s hips hitting the sweet spot inside you over and over, the delicious grip of his hand on your body, the tenderness of your clit as you add more pressure. You’re so close and trying hard to keep looking at Astarion’s beautiful flushed face and wanting him to be your last image before you fall into black-out bliss. But it’s getting harder to keep your eyes focused. Your numb legs buckle, and you stumble forward; your orgasm is almost painful. It tears through your body, ripping pleasure from your trembling muscles and fried nerves. You bite into the flesh of Astarion’s pectoral to stifle your sobs of ecstasy.

“Fuck, darling, good girl.” Astarion praises, grinding your hips against his. “Shit... I’ve got you.” And with a few shallow, pitiful rolls of his body, Astarion is cumming with a deep guttural groan filling you with ropes of his warm come.

He drops boneless, and you pant against his chest, heart still pounding against your ribs. You both are like jelly melting into a puddle on the bedsheets. You feel the drag of Astarion’s fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. Humming softly, you pepper kisses over his still heart. 

“Shouldn’t be embarrassed ’round me,” you mumble, yawning against his skin, too tired to raise your head. The feeling of Astarion’s fingers felt like a sleep spell. “I love you. Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Astarion stiffens under you, hand stilling against your back, clearly taken back. It takes him a bit to respond, but you don’t rush him. Just continue to kiss his chest and melt further at the feeling of his hands on your skin. Content just being here with Astarion.

He clears his throat before saying thickly, “And I love you, darling.” Astarion moves slightly and pulls out of your tender cunt. In doing so, a gush of your combined juices spills down your thighs.

 “Gross, now I feel sticky.” You puff, grimacing at the feeling.

“How about I draw us a bath?” You nod silently and he sits you both up. However you refuse to get off his lap, clinging to him like a sloth to a tree. 

“Carry me?” 

He kisses the crown of your head. “Always.” Astarion scoops you up and carries you along to the bath.

Heya, I quite like how this turned out. I love writing 'rougher' smut, but sometimes the tender stuff just hits ya know? Let me know what you thought. I hope Astarion didn't seem ooc.

If you want to be added to the taglist DM me, please!

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny @cherifrog @ophelia-ophelian

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

astarion ancunin hcs {pt. 1}

once he's comfortable with you, he adores non-sexual physical intimacy

playing with his hair will calm him down almost instantly

he's protective and possessive, so he'll keep a hand on you at all times, usually on your back

loves when you initiate any kind of physical contact

always asks to do something before he does, in either a sexual or nonsexual context

he's easily jealous and can sometimes get very possessive; for the first time in 200 years, he has someone who genuinely loves him and he hates the possibility that he might lose you

that possessiveness is obvious when he marks up your neck with bites and hickeys

if he feels like his place in your relationship is threatened in public, he will not hesitate to touch, hold, or kiss you in front of whomever is making a move on you; after some bearing of fangs, whoever it is usually scuttles off very quickly

he definitely feels very undeserving of you and your love and has his days when he's convinced you're going to leave him for someone better when you get the chance, or that he's keeping you from; that insecurity lasts for a very long time

constantly buries his own feelings, so you have to coax them out of him and teach him how to set boundaries and stand up for himself

astarion absolutely LOVES bathing together; he can be very vulnerable with you without sex being expected when you bathe together and it absolutely helps him regain some control and bodily autonomy

he loves gifting you things: jewelry, clothes, weapons, little knickknacks he sees that remind him of you

his elven ears are so sensitive and he absolutely will whine involuntarily when you brush your fingers over them (either on accident while you're touching his curls or on purpose)

speaking of which, astarion loves having his hair played with, it's a huge comfort to him (and another form of physical touch that isn't inherently sexual, so it's one of the ways to ease him back into being intimate and physical)

sexually, he's very switchy; some days he wants to be in control and giving you all the pleasure you deserve, but other days he's more than happy to let you take the lead and love on him

he loves staying up late to have deep talks and watch the sky (sun or moon and stars, it doesn't matter which to him)

cuddle this man. all the time. he's absolutely a cuddle bug. if you don't cuddle him while you go to sleep, he'll be very huffy, and you'll wake up to him curled up around you anyway

he also likes to be the little spoon sometimes, once he's comfortable with you seeing and being wrapped around his back

he will sew everything for you instead of teaching you to do it; he likes being useful in some little way for you (inspired by @aethes-bookshelf's post here because I saw it and went "you are absolutely right")

he commonly speaks to you in Elvish whether you understand it or not; it's absolutely a comfort to him, especially when you start picking up words and understanding some of what he says

contrary to the performances he puts on, astarion is a very gentle lover when he can finally be comfortable and genuine with you. he's quieter, softer, he takes the time to learn you and himself, he lets himself enjoy it; he learns to become a taker, not just a giver

he likes to hold you, however he can, and at the very least always be touching you. an arm around your waist or shoulders, a hand on the small of your back, holding your hand or twining your pinkies together. he can't be touching you, he's standing so close to you that he could be touching you if he moved a centimeter more

he likes to hug you randomly; one of his favorite ways to do it is to come up behind you while you're cooking or talking to someone or looking at yourself in the mirror to get ready so he can surprise you by putting his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder

astarion has a habit of kissing your neck whenever he can, sometimes it's a way to let you know he's hungry, other times when he wants to be intimate, other times just to remind you he loves you

on the same hand, he doesn't always say 'i love you' but instead makes it known through his behavior around you (and the fact that he's constantly looking at you like you are his whole world, because you are)

on the nights when you can't sleep, he reads to you until you drift off because he knows you find his voice soothing

he likes tucking his head into your neck and shoulder when the two of you sleep (which he finds out he actually likes doing every now and then)

the first thing astarion does when he wakes up is pepper you with little kisses on your shoulders, collarbones, cheeks, and forehead

when he's nervous and with people he's okay with knowing that, he'll reach for your hand and touch your fingers to calm down and ground himself. if you wear a ring or multiple rings, he'll play with those

astarion loves it when you call him by a nickname, either a shortened version of his name or a pet name. if he's fed recently and had enough blood, his cheeks will turn this adorable shade of pink when you call him "Star" or "my love" or something similar

how he wakes up from a nightmare changes constantly. the worse the nightmare, the worse his reaction when he wakes up. sometimes it's just a little gasp and his eyes flying open, sometimes it's a yelp and tears, sometimes he's crying before he even wakes up; but every time, his biggest comfort is to cling to you until the panic fades and then curl up in your lap (you've learned to light a candle or summon lights with magic when he wakes up from a nightmare; the shadows make him feel worse)

when you fall asleep outside of bed, he picks you up and carries you to bed and tucks you in—all without waking you

if you are injured at any point and there is no certainty that you'll pull through, he panics. he stays at your side the entire time, even if the smell of your blood is driving him mad, and holds your hand and talks to you, often begging you to wake up, to come back to him, to stay with him; more than once, you've woken up to find him with tears streaked down his face

every time you wake up from an injury and he realizes it, either because he's watching you or because you say hi to get his attention, he smothers you in kisses

once he's no longer starving, he likes to feed from you very slowly, to take his time and enjoy your taste; now that he's promised food, he doesn't feel the need to rush. feeding becomes very sensual, intimate, and personal for the two of you after that

he also loves leaving bites and drinking from you in places the others won't see; it makes him incredibly giddy to know that you let him bite you in places only he will ever see

if he's taller than you, he loves to kiss the crown of your head whenever he can

he will sew up your injuries whenever you need his help with it, even if the sight and smell of your blood makes him salivate

he loves touching your body to see how you react and lets you do the same to learn his own likes and dislikes

matching. outfits. he loves it, loves seeing people realize that you wear the same material and colors and realize what it means. he's very smug when people come to the realization that you're together

he frequently gives you his shirts to sleep in

if you are apart from him for any amount of time, expect to be tackled with a hug the minute you are reunited again

when you have the time, he likes to just lay in bed with you and relax together, half-asleep and cuddling and sometimes mumbling to each other pt. 2 coming soon

[sserpente]

The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

[astariontopofme]

Tav: *struggling to carry their bag* Mmph.

Astarion: *curious* Whats wrong with you?

Tav: This bag is really heavy.

Astarion: *smugly* I told you not to pick up every shiny thing in that cave, didn’t I? Serves you right.

Halsin: *steps forward and takes Tav’s bag* I’ve got it. *continues walking*

Tav: *smiles up at him as he walks ahead*

Astarion: *frowning*

Tav: *suddenly being lifted off their feet* W-what the—Astarion?

Astarion: *still frowning* I’ve got you.

.

[herdarkestnightelegance]

Bedhead

Pairing: Astarion/ g/n unnamed You

Tags: the fluffiest of fluff

Length: 1k words

Summary: You wke up in Astarion‘s tent for the first time.

A/N: I'm really starting to enjoy this whole Fanfiction writing thing! Thank you all for all the love on my last fanfic Magpie Stash 🥹 👉👈

Once again I have to thank @nyx-knox for the thoughtful beta-reading, helping me to smooth out the bumps in the story ✨

Shout out to @onlyancunin. You know why ❤️

::::::::::::::::::

A single strip of sunlight falls directly onto your face, waking you gently. You don’t stir but slowly, you open your eyes. For a moment you’re disoriented. This isn’t your tent, is it? Slowly you look around. No, it’s not. And then you remember. It’s Astarion’s. And now that your senses catch up you feel him next to you, his arm laid sleepily across your stomach. You blink almost in disbelief at the feeling of him still beside you.

This is new. Yes, the two of you have spent many hours together, sneaking away for moments of passion both here and in your tent, out in nature, in a couple of caves and a temple even. But usually you went your separate ways afterwards. Occasionally, you had fallen asleep next to each other but you usually woke to find him gone or already awake and half-dressed, like that first morning after the Tiefling Party. Never had you woken up to feel him still slumbering beside you before. In his tent no less.

But then you remember. Arms pulling you closer as you were about to disentangle from him, a kiss on the delicate skin below your ear and a single whispered word. “Stay?” 

So you stayed.

You turn your head to look at Astarion. But to say what you see is not what you expected would be an understatement. 

Unable to stop it, the corners of your lips curl up in an adoring grin. Often have you seen Astarion meditate on this journey. Usually lying on his back, his head resting on a pillow, hair immaculate, the ruffles on his shirt laid out perfectly, face relaxed and his fingers doing that dainty fingertips-touching-thing you’ve come to adore.

But this was not that.

Beneath a mess of tangled sheets, Astarion is lying on his stomach, one leg stretched away from him and the other at a weird but apparently comfortable angle. One arm draped over you, the other one tucked under his head, barely resting on the edge of his pillow, which has somehow wrapped itself halfway around his head. He looks completely disheveled and … utterly adorable.

It’s the light chuckle you can’t suppress that seems to wake your lover. He opens his eyes groggily, their crimson color practically glowing in the strip of morning light that had also awoken you.

In the few moments before he fully wakes from his rather unusual meditation, you see it clearly on his face: a flicker of a pleasant surprise to find you still beside him. Followed by confusion. Then a moment of vulnerability. And finally you see his trademark cocky smile slipping onto his face.

 “You’re up early, darling.“ he says in a casual yet sleepy tone. “I thought I’d all but worn you out last night.”

“Good morning to you too.“ you answer back, the smirk lingering on your face. Slowly, he pulls his arm off you and turns onto his back. His slender body stretches deliciously, and you roll onto your side to face him, unable to take your eyes off all of his beautifully exposed pale skin. When he eventually sits up, you can’t help but let out a giggle.

“What?”, he asks, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry - it’s just …” You reach out your hand towards that mop of stunning white curls that look like an exploded feather-pillow, but you pause, waiting the slightest of moments before actually touching him. You realize you’ve never really… touched his hair. Sure, you had weaved your fingers into it, tugged at it in moments of passion, but … fixing these beautiful curls seems almost too … familiar? You can’t help but worry it’ll bother him. “May I?” you ask cautiously.  

Astarion leans his head towards your hand ever-so-slightly, signalling you permission to touch his hair. “I’ve just never seen you like this, that’s all.” His curls are incredibly soft, even in their disheveled state. Has anyone ever seen him like this, you wonder.

“Like what?” he asks in a relaxed tone but you detect the slightest hint of insecurity. Inspecting his beautiful face for a moment longer, you notice the red skin and creases the pillow has left around his cheekbone and the drop of dried blood in the left corner of his mouth from when he drank from you.

“… Tousled,” you finally answer, still unsure if the word captures how endearing he looks to you in this state.

He huffs a laugh. “Well, my dear, you too are looking rather unkempt.” he says as he plucks a tiny, honest-to-god pillow-feather from the tangled mess on your own head. The two of you look at each other - all messy hair, dried blood, squished faces and sticky skin. 

You wonder what the pale Elf is thinking, what he is searching for while he is studying your eyes so intently. Because all you feel in this moment is fondness. Fondness for him, for waking up together … for whatever it is that exists between the two of you. And you think he maybe feels  it, too. Because, to your delight, a smile spreads on his indented face, his fangs momentarily glinting in the morning light before the both of you let out a laugh. He is so beautiful to you in that moment. And your heart swells in a way it has not done before, to the point of aching within the confines of your chest.

It’s Astarion who leans in first to kiss you then, running his fingers over the bird’s nest that is your hair. “I do think you look quite delicious like this, you know?” he whispers against your lips before pushing you down, pinning you back onto the bedroll as his weight comfortably settles onto you. You feel him smile into your kiss and you know it’s sincere. “So let’s see if we can mess up this hair of yours a bit more, shall we?”

[justporo]

You know what thought delights me?

Absolutely flustering Astarion with the tiniest little displays of affection.

Astarion, the suave master seducer.

Can he give you a full body blush because he just whispered the lewdest thing into your ear in public? Yes, absolutely. And he does that quite often because don't you just look beautiful with this delightful shade of pink on your cheeks.

But when you just turn and give him a sweet little kiss on the cheek and tap the tip of his nose before strolling away with a smile, whispering that you love him under your breath...

Astarion.exe has crashed

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Astarion who hugs you close to him, cheek resting on the top of your head, when he’s feeling particularly anxious or dissociative. Holding YOU, rather than the other way around comforts him for the fact that he’s not the one being restricted or held down, which sends his mind back to pre-tadpole times. Holding you to him is grounding, holds him in the present where he is safe, and loved, and cared for beyond his own belief.

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[lovelybluebirdie]

What is yours

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.

Word Count: 3,1k

hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff

[ AO3 ]

The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming. 

If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.

Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.

Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you. 

It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you. 

Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.

“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”

Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.

“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.  

“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”

“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.

“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”

“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.” 

You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.

Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.

As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you. 

He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.

Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.

The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight. 

He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.

His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.

As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.

A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.

Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands? 

What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway? 

It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you. 

Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?

Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.

He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you. 

He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen. 

There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.

Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.

A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.

He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.

Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.

Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.

Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?

His stomach dropped.

The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.

Blood rushed to his ears.

Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.

He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.

When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.

He tried his best to keep his composure.

“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”

Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again. 

“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.

Astarion gave you a confused look.

Think about what? 

“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.

What was that? 

Astarion thought he must have misheard.

“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”

Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.

What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.

“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”

“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved. 

Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.

The vendor's words appeared in his mind.

That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.

How could he have dared.

Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.

His fury grew.

Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.

He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.

Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.

“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”

And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.

“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous. 

You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows. 

“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.

“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”

His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.

The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.

“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”

“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.

“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?” 

Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you. 

Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate. 

“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”

An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick. 

Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.” 

Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly. 

You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.

Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.

“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”

He bit his cheek, remaining silent.

“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”

Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.

“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.

“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him. 

“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.

“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”

Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.

“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.” 

He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.

You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm. 

“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”

“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”

“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.

Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”

Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.

For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.

You were with him, and had promised not to leave. 

Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.

This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.

“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.

“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.

Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.

Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt. 

When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”

Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden. 

“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.

“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”

“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.

“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.

As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.

You belonged to him. 

The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.

Masterlist