#things have never been more smooth and my tav has never looked better

[pisswizard420]

Got the headband that makes your character smart my days of failing 1/3 of all dialogue checks are through babey

[pursuitseternal]

“Knowledge is a dangerous weapon:” Bookworm!Tav, Vampiric Spawn Powers, and Breeding—“Bites” Update 📚

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 4.6K of banter and breeding

Based on an anonymous prompt

(HBD @lipstickghoulie )

Summary: You have always loved your books and a challenge, when your Vampire Rogue learns his starvation has kept him from his full powers, you take him up on his challenge to teach him the skills that are his due. As you draw closer together, he finds that one bit of information you have failed to teach him… how to make a dhampire

CW: light mocking of Astarion’s ditziness, Spawn Spidercrawl, catching powers and feelings, flirty touching, creepy silent vampire moves, Breeding talk, no babies just breeding, Mating Press™️

Ao3 link | Series link | Masterlist

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You always knew he was… dumb. Thick headed. Unobservant.

Okay, at times the comments from his thick, rosy lips were just plain stupid. “That lever… must do something…” That was a wonderful moment, one that earned him your eyes rolling so far back in your skull they hurt. “We have some words and some… circles…. Wonder what they do….” Another example of his unparalleled intelligence.

Not to mention the countless times he failed to remember any of the major gods and their shrines as you passed through crypts and defiled chapels.

For as handsome as he was, for as sultry and seductive as you found him, he was… smoothed-brained. But as your journey forced you closer together, you couldn’t help but think some of it may be merely pretense, he was a magistrate after all. He was abused and tortured for centuries, surely that does things to one’s mind. And he was always reading. Every day, every night at camp, his beautiful aquiline nose stuck in a book, crimson eyes devouring the words at a breakneck speed.

One to even rival your own thirst for knowledge.

Maybe it was that you allowed the poor Spawn a chance to drink living, thinking blood for once. Your own. Maybe that was what began to take his little, stupid moments and turn them into something endearing.

Not that he was gracious when you corrected his ignorance. Every time, he gave that adorable, grumpy harumph and then defended his comments, or… since he started feeding from you, he’d just look at your neck still freshly marked and lick his lips. That really shut you up. Set you on fire.

But it wasn’t until you needed him to reach that last little chest up on the crumbling ledge inside some dank cavern that you realized his ignorance wasn’t wholly pretend.

Astarion, vampire spawn, didn’t know just what he should be capable of. He looked positively befuddled when you told him to just climb the brick wall. His sass had been sharp, “I’m not some spider, darling.”

“But you can spider climb, you dolt,” you had laughed imitating his tone, trying to call his bluff on skills he should have, at least according to what you had read in your book. A Spawn should scale such a wall with immense ease.

He just narrowed his crimson eyes at you, a snarl on his lips as he shook his head. “I have never performed such an act, darling, nor have any of my brothers and sisters, those of us Cazador kept for his bidding. Better check your precious facts in your precious tomes before you throw your assumptions on my prowess… dear.”

You still shiver at that night. Back at camp. When you ignored the way he bristled as you approached him in front of his tent. He had sneered at you, readying his next acerbic quip for you… Until you sat so close beside him, settling the heavy book in his lap. Leaning in, you point to the page. Traits and Strengths of the Vampiric Spawn.

You felt him cease breathing, his left hand clutching at the edge of the book growing even whiter. “Astarion,” you breathed. Leaning in more, you looked into his eyes, his gaze scanning the words so quickly on the aged vellum. And then he shoved you by your cheek out of his sightline. He needed to finish this.

“Why, I should be positively remarkable, assuming your book is correct,” he sighed, as if he saw a vision, a dream fulfilled. One where he was powerful.

You nodded as his crimson eyes flashed at you, wide with wonder. “You mentioned Cazador never let you feed enough, and not from thinking creatures.” He nodded, skeptical even as his eyes fixated on your lips. “Well, what you did not know was that denying you a sufficient diet meant also restricting you from your full powers, even as a Spawn, Astarion. You should be able to climb up walls and ceilings, move swifter, lift boulders too much for even Karlach to manage. You should be able to heal almost instantaneously, without potion or feeding.”

“And now?” he replied, that little tremor of hope in his voice unmistakable as his hand traced over the page of your book.

“Well, it’s a difficult deduction, since you have our unwelcome illithid parasite. But now that you are feeding regularly, even from thinking creatures, you should find the effects more than just making you feel… happy,” you rambled on. Even as you kept talking, his eyes glued their gaze to your neck, your lips. If you weren’t mistaken, they even dipped down the v-shaped cut of your tunic.

“So… the more I drink from thinking creatures, the stronger and more powerful I will be?” he murmured, a slight grit in his throat as his eyes definitely darted down your bosom now.

“Y-yes,” you rejoined, sliding back just a touch.

And he slid that touch closer, and then some.

“You’ll help me, won’t you, darling? You’ll help me learn these skills? Give me all I require to access my full potential….” His eyes looked wet, the ruby irises glowing in the flickering firelight. “Please?” he adds with that smirk and that single arching brow of his made you stomach flutter and heart thump so hard in your chest.

“I…” you started, but he only seemed to lean ever closer.

“You know, when I was a Magistrate, back in the City, I would have craved someone with intelligence like yours. We would have been rivals, colleagues…” his eyes dip once more shamelessly up and down your seated body. “Perhaps lovers even,” he breathed. “I always surrounded myself with those of highest intellect, darling. Intelligence is so… undervalued by many, and knowledge is a dangerous weapon, but I see you, my darling. Won’t you please come to my aid now?”

“We… we can try,” you had whispered, barely able to the let the words from your lips with how you seemed to seize under the intensity of his stare.

“Wonderful,” he purred, catching your cheek, your chin in his cool palm. “I just hope we don’t have to wait too long…”

You squirmed as his thumb began to brush beneath your lip.

“…to put my new strengths to the test I mean, of course.” He smirked that little bit more twistedly. More seductively. And you knew he heard your heart beating in your artery, your blood rushing under his touch in your veins to pool lower. It was his nature, and you knew more of it than he did.

“Of course…” you breathed. “I’d be happy to help.”

“Then it’s settled,” his voice was thick in his throat, you relished the way his other arm stole around you, clutching at you back to bring you all the closer under his heady spell of charm and seduction. “All that’s left is to seal our new arrangement somehow…”

He pushed that heavy book off his lap, sliding to bring you into completely flushed against him. You’re sure your pulse was raging so loudly, it’s deafened his pointed and twitching ears. That chilled, corpse-cold touch under your chin tilts you up just… so…

You melted, closing that distance between your lips. Every logical thought dispersed in the wind of your desire, that panting breath that passed from your lungs into his.

That’s how this all began, and where it had brought you to this moment, where he clings to the ceiling of a massive cavern filled with both the stink of Gnolls and the vile creatures themselves. Dagger gripped in between his glinting fangs. He readies himself with a look of pure and dark excitement. He loves this. He misses this when it’s just you all back in the quiet of camp, where he tests his ever growing strength and climbing abilities, where he drinks from you every night before he hunts in the dark.

Where he slowly makes you more and more aware of your awakening body the more he touches you and caresses and kisses you. Always every night. Always between your increasingly intellectual discussions about vampiric powers and the moment he sinks his fangs into your skin to feed. He always leaves you after dark, his own belly sated, while you… you grow all the hungrier. Needier. You want more debate, more analysis, more of his body covering yours as he drinks you down.

But not anything more. Not yet. Even as you knew he was edging closer to asking you for sex. Even if he didn’t know all the… implications. After all, knowledge was a dangerous weapon.

You shake your head to free yourself from the longing thoughts of past nights and burning expectations of the night to come. You give him the signal, watching him release with flawless precision, dagger in hand now, as he falls from his spider-perch.

The Gnolls never see you coming, not before your endearingly ferocious Vampire Spawn lands with preternatural grace on their heads and vivisects them before you even reach their location.

He pants as you get at least one good shot from your bow, right for the last twitching body on the ground.

It’s not until you smile, satisfied, you notice that Astarion’s pale skin is riddled with scratches and tears from the beasts’ claws. He holds out his arms, rolling up his sleeves and smiling. Enjoying the sight of his vampiric body healing before his eyes. That crimson gaze practically glows as he looks at you over the carnage. “See something you like, my sweet?” he purrs, arching that brow, just for you, as if the others in your party aren’t even there.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, turning to find the coveted chest of supplies, that Zhentarim sigil on it is no deterrent to you. Not when your Vampire Spawn can charm anyone to do anything now. “We better head back to camp,” you kneel before the strong chest, trying your hand to pick the iron lock.

“Tch,” his voice brushes your ear, physically tickling the small stray hairs that make you gasp. “You know I’m far more skilled with my fingers, especially when it comes to slipping inside…” You shudder to feel him crouching right behind you, his thighs pressed against your ass, his waist brushing your lower back. “…Slipping inside chests, locks, that sort of thing,” he adds louder, just to appease your unease. That dexterous touch has only grown all the smoother and stronger and sneakier now that he has fed well for a while.

He is so sneaky in fact, only one of his hands actually works the lock pick for a moment, the other quickly skates up your leg, tracing the inner seam of your buckskin breeches almost to the peak of your thigh. He laughs in your ear as you muffle a noise under your own palm.

“Soldiers, you really need four hands to pick one lock? Haven't you gotten better, Fangs, now that our fearless leader has let you suck on her and tutor you in being a Spawn?” Karlach chortles, her feet swaying side to side in that perpetual motion dance she seems to do.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Astarion throws the barb over his shoulder, letting you bury your face to hide the tweaks of ecstasy at the corners of your eyes as his fingers keep moving higher… higher. “Some silent performance only you get to savor, it seems?”

“If I didn't know better…” Gale’s pedantic voice draws closer.

“There now,” Astarion crows like the proudest rooster of them all, his hand quickly leaving the edge of your mound to twist that pick and pop the lock just as Gale peers from behind. “Look at all this loot,” he groans and stands, satisfied as he folds his arms over his chest. “Good thing you have a strong, well-fed Vampire to bring it back with us. Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

He smirks down at you, hand extended to help you to your feet. Back to the rest, he flashes you that fang-toothed smirk that he knows sets your pulse galloping out of control. Pulling you up, he has to steady you in your legs, near boneless as they are with just that tease of pleasure. “Calm yourself darling, you're making my undead heart hurt sympathetically from all that… excitement,” he rasps right into your ear once you’re on your feet before him, releasing you in favor of bags of treasure and potions and loot to stuff in his pack.

Your mind is racing as your trod back towards your little camp well off the Risen Road for good measure. Thoughts scramble, worries peak their heads up, and you can’t stop thinking about the rest of what you have learned reading about vampires. Necessary research for you, particularly since Astarion has seemingly added flirtation and seduction into your witty repartee this last tenday. So far, you’ve managed to keep his wandering eyes from those pages when he glances through your tomes. He seems to prefer every little dip of your skin where he can see it at any rate. So far, you’ve managed to keep his hands in places on your body that are not too dangerous, yours on his as well.

But something inside you knows that tide is shifting. He wants to offer you more in exchange for more… and… well, if it doesn’t just make your body thrum with life in ways no books had and no previous interests had either.

He has beaten you back to camp, haphazardly tossed the loot for the rest of you to sort out in the center of camp. You know he’s waiting in his tent, now that the sun has begun to trek lower and lower. It’s time for your research, for your indulgence of his strength, and… whatever else might happen.

His tent is dimly lit as you enter, a mess of blankets and pillows, some fine and some in tatters. Stacks of books in the corners have replaced the blood bank bottles you first found here to clutter his space.

But no Astarion.

You tilt your head confused, settling down on one pillow, more or less intact, reaching for an apple he keeps in his stash of food just for you. Just to replenish you between his own feedings. As you bite into the hard skin, as the juice fills your mouth, you reach for a book, some ancient law book he found in the ruins of that village. Must make him think of his old life.

The pages are old and soft in your fingers, your eyes absentmindedly skimming the long words and complex sentences as you chew.

Peaceful. Until you realize it’s far too quiet.

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, that feeling of being watched creeping up your spine. Turning, mid bite, you peer into the shadowed corner of his tent behind you.

Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the dark, just a hint of glinting teeth as he smiles and drinks in your fear and surprise. He laughs to hear you hiss as you jump in your seat. “There you are,” he croons from his darkened corner. “I’ve been waiting.”

“F-f-for what?” you force a smile and force your breath to steady all at once. He slides closer, settling down right beside you, and you notice your worn book in his hand, the smile on his face is sultry.

And predatory.

And for a moment, you regret teaching him as much as you have about his untapped powers.

“When were you going to tell me about your little bit of… research… on the side?” his voice is chilling, his brow arching as he flips the book open right to the back.

Right where you had been trying so hard to prevent his eyes from skimming, his ambitious brain from devouring the knowledge.

Your body is hot and rigid, and you know from the way his pointy ears twitch, he hears your pulse. You know from the way that his nostrils flare that he smells your arousal, the slick that dampens your underthings just to be this close to him again after his little stunt today.

“If my observations are correct… and they usually are…” he purrs, even though the stack of evidence to the contrary is vast. But you bite your tongue as he continues, your heart leaping at the topic he is about to breach. “You sound and smell eager to discuss this topic if dhampires, my darling.”

You swallow, watching so heated and frozen as he slides so gracefully to place the weight of that tome in your own lap, his fingers removing the half-eaten apple from your fingers to toss to the side. Then he brings their sticky, juicy tips to his mouth to suck them clean.

You moan, unbidden, at the wet and vigor with which his tongue cleans every crevice of those digits.

“Now, I’d hate to be left wondering just why my intelligent, little darling would withhold such a vital… potent… part of my unrevealed powers as a vampire?” he sets your hand back on your thigh, a little extra brush of his fingers, returning to trace that seam inside your breaches as he had before. “Is she… curious? Afraid? Is this why she has been just so hesitant during our…” he grips your chin, turning your head with commanding force until there is nowhere else to look but his deep crimson eyes, “…late night trysts?”

“It’s not something one just… brings up, Astarion,” you try to flatten your tone, even as that one hand still traces up and around your thigh. “It’s just not… done…”

Something about his eyes softens, “It would be important to discuss, you know, for there is more that I would like to share with you than just witty banter and blood…” his tone dips low into a rumble. “It’s not something I would have known, not a concern I would have shared until I knew of it…”

“There’s more to it than you might know,” you squeak as his fingers press into that slot between your legs. “Now that you’re well-fed, you’ll feel actual….”

You swallow the word. His touch presses hard enough into your folds through your breaches to make them soaked. And you, wanton you, you give a breath and a buck of your hips to keep his fingers there.

“Pleasure,” he smirks, eyes scanning your face as your force your eyes back open, halfway at least. “Yes, I gathered as much. The more I feed, the more I come alive… alive enough to perhaps even bestow a new life…” he squints a grin at you, your mouth slack as he draws that touch just as hard again, “…perhaps one day.”

You arch your body, trying to slip closer. Your secret is out, your anxious thoughts over clandestine information dispersed in the air. And so, the next words from your mouth just build on all that you had been swallowing down.

“Yes, perhaps one day…” you sigh, leaning back on your hands to try to give him full access to your cunt. “Perhaps one day, we could test out those powers together.” Your voice shakes with excitement, it’s pressed with the sincerity you feel for him.

“Oh, my love,” he smirks and reaches both arms around your waist. That newfound strength pulls you flush into his lap, until your molten, silk-soaked center presses against where he’s hardening. “You always know what to say… Seems like quite the power that will take much preparation and proper timing…” He brings your fingers back to his lips as he kisses them softly. “I’d have to feed on more than just a bear and more than just sips from my little treat, sweet as you are…”

You nod, once or twice, before losing yourself in the bliss of his tongue on the tingling inner skin of your wrist. Barely more than a lap before his fangs pierce your skin and suck you down. Your very essence, your living blood pools in his belly, you feel it coursing in his veins. It fills him and hardens him beneath your hips in an instant.

“Well, practice makes perfect you know,” he croons, bloodied lips barely hovering off your own. “I can tell from your scent you are not… in season…. And I have only had the single little taste.”

You pant, writhing at the scratch of your clothing, you long to rip it off and toss it where your book has long since been abandoned. “Sounds right to me,” you hiss, arms tucking around his neck to lower those arrogant stupidly handsome lips to your mouth.

Astarion’s throat rumbles with a growl, the taste of your blood fresh in his mouth as he rolls you on your back. Primal. Feral. He’s your powerful vampire, blood in his body, lust in his brain. And you want to put it all to the test—your own little experiment to match his enthusiastic desire for you. His touch is lightening fast and strong, pulling off your clothing, swift and sure and careful until every inch of your bodies are bare.

Strength hums in his muscles, even as his hands gently caress your cheek, your neck still sore from all his feeding. His body presses you into the pile of blankets that cover his plank of a bed. His hips grind your belly, your thighs are pulled almost against your chest until you’re spread wide open for him. But for every jolt of his cock as it prods above you and drips his early cum on to your belly, his kisses on your lips are sweet, gentle. A silent movement of gratitude for all your willing aid. Those fingers drag their slightly warmed touch around your breast, kneading it tenderly. With every arch of your back, you can almost catch the base of his cock inside your folds.

And you shake. You quiver. You’d had a few lovers, mostly boring and few and far between. But never has your body burned for anyone like it does for him.

As if his vampire touch is calling your blood to pool beneath it. Not one traditional strength, but with Astarion, you aren’t totally sure he doesn’t have some unnatural ability to command your body. To make your blood pound and sing just for him.

“What a good girl,” he rasps, a grind of his hips to send that cock near your navel, over your skin. “I can feel your heat for me from here. Just waiting to be fucked full.” His mouth descends quickly but carefully, only taking a single nipple in his lips. Sucking hard, he pops off with a loud wet noise.

Almost as loud as your moan.

“So ready, aren’t you?” His question weighs you down, your eyes half shut to savor the way he drags back with that length, sliding it in just an inch or so into your aching sex. “I’m waiting…” he growls, and you sob as he pulls even that little bit of his tip back out.

“Yes, hells below, yes,” you pant, hands flying to claw into his ass. Pulling him towards your throbbing core.

That blunted tip prods just barely inside you again. “You want me to fill you?” he rasps.

You nod, your teeth biting your lip hard enough to bleed.

“You want me to fill your belly like you let me fill mine with your sweet blood?” he grips his arms around your shoulders, pressing harder into, cock sliding in another little bit. “Fuck you so many times, my cum will drip from you for days?”

“Yes, Astarion…” you breathe, his mouth devouring your words, ready to swallow your cry as he does, finally, fill you.

You feel the gravity of his body crushing you, his legs braced with every tendon taught as he snaps his hips into. It’s so deep, so driving the way he fucks. And every thrust slaps your flesh and smacks his balls against your ass, but you love it. His breath dampens your collarbone, arms wrapped so tightly around you, you can do nothing but hold on for dear life. Your thighs burn from how they’re bent into your stomach almost, your folds leaking with arousal, and the drag of his cock touches every part of your walls and slams against your channel’s end.

He licks your shoulder, wet tongue lapping up to the artery in your neck. Where it pulses and dances in time with his beat inside you. Flushed and boiling, speared on his length, you pant, suffocated deliciously until you burst. Your visions swimming and muscles contorting in his press, you scream for him. You can hear your arousal, your slick, coating his thighs as his thrusts only increase with speed.

Lifting his head, he sweeps a hand down your sweat-drenched belly, palm bracing just below your navel. His push is relentless, hard and gradual enough you feel it behind your belly, how he gives you resistance from outside against that constant ramming of his cock at your deepest point. It’s enough to throw you into another coil of bliss instantly. “Good girl, so wet and dirty and waiting to be filled…'' he finally speaks through his panting. And he pushes on your belly once more, grunting with each fuck as he comes undone.

As he thrusts and spills his seed, prodding the full length of him to the deepest point yet. You can feel it almost sticking through your skin as he pulses. As he spills, burst after burst, he still rams that end of your cunt.

Beads of sweat drip from his forehead as he looks down your body, and how your skin is wet and flushed and marked from where he gripped you so fiercely.

He smiles and licks his lips. You try to clamber out, but his hand only comes to rest on your shoulder. “Ah ah,” he tutts his tongue at you, slipping out, only to take two of his fingers to play in your mix of cum, slipping it back inside you over and over again. “You’ll need to practice too, and you’ll need to rest to keep all of me inside of you.”

You shudder, a smile wide on your mouth, aroused and embraced, half hidden behind the back of your hand as you cover your face.

“Tch,” he chides you, pulling that hand from your face, “none of that, my darling. I’ll watch every bit of your blush darken your cheek until you’re ready to go again.”

“Again?” you choke. Your hips already feeling stretched and sore, you lay them flat and try to ease the aches.

“Oh yes,” he purrs, “you’ll have to build your strength the old fashioned way, my treat. Now,” he gives your ass a little smack on the side as he lifts it, “on your knees, darling…”

You finally take a breath, freed from his wiry, heavy frame. One cool hand settles between your shoulder blades to have you rest your head on his bedding. But that other hand pulls your hips up, slipping through your juices and teasing your clit until you buck back against his belly. You breathe contentedly, savoring the way his fingers caress you, worship you.

You close your eyes, wriggle your hips, already craving that stretching fullness inside you. A future with him at your side during the day as your strong, well fed vampire… and on your back and knees and belly and any way he would want you during the long nights with your virile lover.

[sky-kiss]

For the prompts: I’ve been thinking non-stop about your professor/barista au and would LOVE to see the date/the aftermath of said date 👀

A/N: Dude, I’m so glad to hear people like this dumb universe. Have a second prompt coming in for the same verse later. 

_____

Raphael x Tav: You Cannot Invite Her to Italy Yet, My Guy

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The temperature has dropped low enough to warrant a coat when they leave the restaurant. Tav shoves her hands into her pockets, turning her face up to feel the breeze on her skin. It’s fresh in a way you rarely experience in the city. Her head is pleasantly swimmy off good wine, food, and better company. 

Tav smiles to herself. Raphael lingers on her left. The wine has left a flush of color in his naturally tanned cheeks. She reaches out without thinking to adjust the hang of his scarf. He stiffens momentarily before relaxing, allowing her to smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the lapel of his jacket. “Well, I’d call that a successful first outing.”

“How gratifying to hear. Haarlep would never have let me live it down otherwise.” He holds out his arm. “Come, the night is young.”

“Oooh, a secondary location. I am doing well.” She tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow. 

“Exceeding all expectations, my dear, I assure you.” He sighs, angling down the street. She relaxes, hugging her guide's arm to her chest. Heat radiates through his jacket, much needed. The material smells pleasantly of him, a touch of spicy bleeding into the cherries and musk. A little creepy to go around smelling your date, but she won't apologize. Most men didn’t smell half as nice. Raphael continues, his movements and voice looser. He’s in his element, rarely liquid; it’s charming. “You read, you brew, you’re well-spoken…what more could I ask?” 

Tav snickers. “My, I’m uniquely qualified.” 

He tips her a wink. “Almost as if we were made for one another” 

It’s a terrible line. Raphael is attractive enough to make it work. Tav rolls her eyes, shrugging under his arm and dragging it over her shoulders. If he’s going to make his moves, she'll try hers. The barista winds her arms around his waist. “Look at that. We fit, too.” 

He stiffens, staring at her in a mix of amusement and wonder. It’s too open for the typically confident man. Tav fears she overstepped. Raphael chuckles, bringing her free hand to his lips for a kiss. “Wonders never cease.”

They wander for a while. He angles them towards a park. They talk about books they’ve read and the places they have traveled. Tav has never been to Italy. Raphael spent a decent portion of his childhood on the Mediterranean coast. 

“Do you get back often?” 

“Less than I’d like. But I am always looking for a new excuse to visit.” He glances down at her, eyes glittering. “In the dark heart of winter, Italy, Spain…they seem like a dream.” Raphael purses his lips. A real mischief crosses his face. “If you require a guide one day…” 

Oh, she shouldn’t. It’s the magic of the evening; it’s the chemistry and the company. She can't stop from saying, “I’d like that.”

They walk a little longer. When it comes time to part, Tav lingers by the door, chewing her lip between her teeth. It’s too early in the relationship, but she’s still chasing the high. “You could come up?”

Raphael chuckles. The professor leans over her, curling a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. He brushes his lips across hers, more delicate than she’d like, still tasting the rich cabernet they had with dinner. “Expectation will make such things all the sweeter, pet. Perhaps next time.” He kisses her knuckles and turns to go. 

Tav just stares after him like a love-sick idiot: a little disappointed and a little giddy. 

Before she drifts off to sleep, she sends him a text. Dinner, Saturday. There is a tapas bar near her apartment, and it only seems fair to continue their faux Mediterranean tour. 

She hates that his response makes her blush: he is, as ever, delighted to serve as her guide. 

[seldarinestrumpet]

Yeina (My Tav) dump

So Yeina is a bard, proficient in lute, and a charlatan by background.

They lived in a Seldarine drow city in the Underdark where they had a little ring that ran scams, on people who could definitely afford it. Yeina never did anything heroic before getting thrust into the middle of the whole Druid/Goblin/Tiefling conflict, but they also never did anything heinous, either. Not that they were above killing to protect their people.

At some point, one of said people got themselves in over their head and Yeina stuck their neck out for them and they ended up having to go up to the surface while things cooled off, which is the point at which they got tentacle-tapped by the Nautiloid.

Yeina has only had a couple of relationships that could be considered serious. They've had a lot of relationships, many of them non-monogamous, most of them ethically so. But they're guilty of not always being 100% above board in their romantic dealings.

Astarion pulls the knife on them and they have two immediate thoughts. "Shit, fam, this guy's trying to kill me" and "shit, fam, this is the prettiest person I've ever seen." As soon as the situation smooths over, their thoughts immediately turn to "I would really really like to sleep with this dude."

They fight a couple of battles together and a sense of trust begins to develop, but as they converse with people like Zevlor and Kagha and Astarion makes his preferences known, they're also turned off by the streak in him that they see as unnecessarily cruel. It becomes a source of internal conflict for them, "Am I drunk enough on how pretty and darkly funny and good at stabbing this dude is to still be attracted to him even though he has some truly repugnant views of the world?"

Then they wake up in the middle of the night with him leaning over them, fangs bared, and he gives them the puppy eyes about needing thinking blood, and the caregiver instinct that got them in trouble looking out for the dumber members of their crew jumps to the front and they're like, oh, my poor darling, here, go ahead. And that bonds them in a way neither of them really expected it to.

The final nail in the "I can be rational about this" coffin comes when they find out what Cazador did to him and at that point it becomes, "Ok, fuck THAT guy, definitely killing him." It doesn't excuse Astarion's cruelty in their eyes, but it places it in a wider context, and now that they definitely care about him, they're willing to accept that part of him, at least temporarily, for better or worse.

And the more glimpses of who he could be they catch, the more they come to believe in the Astarion he eventually proves he is when he refuses to ascend - a version of himself capable of selflessness, of compassion for others. A version of himself that can own the way he's been suppressing his empathy as a survival mechanism even after he no longer needs to.

[anabsolutefreak]

Chapter 7: Only a Taste

This is a canon adjacent full campaign based story involving my original TAV character, the full BG3 crew and, of course, our favorite undead high elf. I created this story to help me get through an exceptionally difficult time in my life and so, you might notice Tav's story is a little more atypical than some. Be advised that the story I have created has some mature themes including violence, kink, mental health and self harm. I will be placing warnings on each individual chapter when any of these themes are included so please be aware. I hope you enjoy. Summary: One of the scenes we all await anxiously :). It is my own spin on the scene, however, as when I first played, I had no idea that the whole vampire thing was supposed to be a secret-- because, you know our boy ain't subtle. If you're a fan, you probably know what's coming. MATURE CONTENT: Biting, sexual themes.

Astarion couldn’t think. His brain was a hazy mess, his stomach hungry no matter how many animals he consumed. He was more well-fed than he had ever been before but without his master’s influence, the hunger for something more continued to grow. And he was weak. Gods, that goblin shouldn’t have been able to shove him so easily, shouldn’t have even been able to touch him. He was too slow. But he suspected the blood of thinking creatures was the solution— why else would Cazador have kept his spawn away from it? He didn’t want them to become too powerful, did he? The rest of his companions were asleep. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Gale were in their tents. Wyll had returned to the grove for the night promising to return in the morning. Only Embrae slept under the stars, as was her preference, curled atop her bedroll next to the fire. He hadn’t been able to stop staring at her. Or more specifically, he couldn’t stop looking at her neck. Astarion wondered how she would taste, how her blood would feel as it ran over his tongue, down his throat. She smelled— she smelled delectable, better than any of the beasts he had hunted, certainly. He realized he had moved forward, seemingly without his own knowledge, and was now crouched down next to her, inhaling her as he looked down upon the throbbing pulse under her smooth skin. He could hear the sound of her heart thumping along in her chest— her pretty little heart, he had teased her before. The ache in his stomach increased until it was all he could feel until it consumed him. He wouldn’t take much, he thought to himself. Just enough to make him stronger, and enough to convince him Cazador's rules no longer held him. He knelt, leaning down into her heat, her scent, and bared his fangs.

***

Embrae didn’t sleep well, flitting between dreams and nightmares. Maybe that’s what woke her up, she would think to herself later— or maybe she was just lucky. Her eyes opened and she saw him crouched over her, red eyes intent and predatory, fangs bared. 

“Shit,” he breathed, his eyes widening as she sat up. He moved back, looking at her almost fearfully. “It— it isn’t what it looks like!” he was stumbling over his words, panicked, robbed temporarily of his usual eloquence. 

“Then what was it?” Embrae asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow. Her hand had inched towards her knife, unthinking. 

He was standing now, and backed up a few paces, eyes looking down at the dirt. She had never seen him so flustered, so afraid before. Afraid of what— her? 

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he insisted, his voice breaking. “I just needed— well, blood.” His shoulders slumped, a total juxtaposition to his usual self-confident pose. He looked as though he was trying to disappear, illuminated to her for what he was in the firelight. 

Embrae got to her feet as well and crossed her arms protectively in front of her. She wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, he had nearly bitten her while she slept which was creepy, invasive, and potentially dangerous. On the other hand, she recognized the shame in his stance, the disgust for himself in his eyes. She had worn that same look how many times over the last years?

“I’m not some monster,” he said still not looking at her. “I’ve been feeding on animals- deer, kobolds, boar… whatever I can get but it’s— I’m too weak, too slow right now…” He shrank even more into himself. “Please.” He said.

Please what? She wondered. Please can I have some of your blood, please don’t make me leave— don’t kill me? All of the above? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Astarion,” she said, voice soft. 

He looked up not quite meeting her eyes, startled perhaps that she hadn’t already attacked him. “Yes?” he breathed. 

“We’ve been fighting all manner of creatures lately, including the thinking ones; you could have taken what you needed several times. Failing that, why didn’t you at least ask?”

He looked up at her as though she had just sprouted tentacles. “Asked?” he said incredulously. “At best, I thought you’d say no— worst case I figured you or one of the others would shove a stake through my ribs if you knew—” he looked down again, “—knew what I am.”

Wait. What he was? Embrae looked at him nonplussed for a moment. Then it clicked. He thought it was a secret. She couldn’t help it, she started to laugh. The vampire looked up startled and perhaps a tad offended. His red eyes met hers for the first time during the whole conversation and clutched her abdomen, trying to contain the mirth. 

“Something amusing you darling?” he asked, some of his usual sass returning now that she had clearly decided not to stake him. 

“Astarion,” she gasped between quiet giggles, “did you think I didn’t know?”

“I—” he looked at her, clearly at a loss for words. 

She ran a hand over her face, willing back the laughter. This was a big moment for him after all. She bit her lip hard until she had regained control. “I’m sorry,” she said, “Truly I am. It’s just— you’re not exactly subtle. The pale skin, the bite marks, the red eyes, and the sharpest incisors I’ve never seen on an elf before. Not to mention the meat you hunt for us is always a tad dry.” She shrugged. 

He shook his head. “Why didn’t you say anything? I— wait, do the others know?”

Embrae shrugged, “Well, I haven’t been— in the area— long. I wasn’t sure how, erm, polite it might be to pry into your— condition. As for the others, I’m not sure. I assume they do but I haven’t talked to them about it.”

“You were worried about being… impolite? Gods! Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?”

“Hey, don’t turn this around me,” she scolded. “You’re the one trying to bite people in the middle of the night. So, I ask again, why didn’t you tell me what you needed?”

He looked down again and replied in a near whisper. “I needed you to trust me.” He looked up at her through his lashes. “And you can trust me.”

The half-elf thought for a moment. Did she trust this man? She wondered. He had been ready to slit her throat the first time they had met, she knew and he seemed to take a strange amount of pleasure from violence. Then again, he wasn’t alone in that— her other companions seemed to take a certain amount of, well, glee from killing. Lae’zel in particular, seemed to revel in gutting her enemies. And what about herself? Embrae thought about her own recent experiences. Had she not reveled in the feeling of her own powerful jaws clamping onto that Worg? She considered her companion again. He hadn’t been forward, it was true, but then neither had she. And he had saved her life…

“I think I do trust you.” Suprise saturated her voice as he said it.

He looked up meeting her eyes for a moment, “really?” he looked down and then up at her again, this time through his long lashes. “Do you think— you could trust me just a little farther?”

She shivered. He wanted to bite her still— of course he did. “I don’t know—”

“It’ll only be a taste, I swear,” he continued. “You’ll be fine— I will be well and you can have a strong, well-fed vampire by your side in battle.” 

Embrae, to her great surprise, found herself considering it— not just because she needed him “stronger” as he said but because she was drawn to the desperation in his eyes. Stupid, she scolded herself. Who’s to say he can even stop once he gets started? It was then that she realized she didn’t just trust him— she wanted to trust him. And she wanted him to know that she did— for him to trust her as well. But why? 

“Not a drop more than you need then, Astarion.” 

“Really?” his voice was both startled and pleased, poorly concealed excitement lighting his eyes. “Erm, of course. Not a drop more. You have my word. Why don’t we make ourselves a bit more comfortable?” He gestured to the bedroll. 

She lay down, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the blood he was so desperately seeking as it pounded through her system as she fought down panic. He knelt, smiling at her a moment, and leaned his body over hers, careful not to touch any more of her than he needed. Then, placing his hands on either side of her head, he dipped his head and she felt his teeth on her skin. She felt an icy pain for a moment which gave way to numbness as he took what he needed from her. The feeling was like nothing she had ever experienced. Her heart still pounded and yet the fear that coursed through her body was being replaced— replaced by a strange weightlessness and, something else. And that was something that caused her to shudder beneath him and lean forward. She could feel her blood rushing out of her own body, rushing through his, warming him, sating him— draining her. Her eyes flew open. He had to stop, she realized. He was taking too much and she couldn’t sink into the oblivion Astarion was offering her, no matter how appealing it was. She pushed up on his chest but he scarcely seemed to notice as he continued to drink. “Astarion,” she pleaded. “Stop— please. That’s enough.” 

***

Astarion was lost, all thoughts of self-control long gone. All of the imaginings he had done before about what it might be like to drink her blood couldn’t have prepared him for the reality of his teeth sinking into her warm flesh, her life’s essence coating his tongue. She tasted better than he could have guessed, better than his favorite wines, of sunshine, of vitality— of happiness. He felt his body which he had so carefully kept from touching hers press up against her as he groaned in reverent ecstasy. How long had it been since he had felt this way? How long since he had felt happy? How long had it been since he could press up against the warmth of another person without feeling disgusted? He could feel her own reaction dimly, the shudder that ran through her body as he took what he needed, and he could feel it as her heart raced ever faster under his lips, as it pulsed through his own empty spaces. 

He barely felt when she tried to push him away. He was fixated, unconcerned now with the woman beneath him. Only the lifeblood she had offered to freely, so foolishly mattered now. He moved a hand and gripped her hair, pulling the half-elf closer. Then he heard, as if from a great distance, her voice, soft and pleading. “Astarion, stop— please. That’s enough.” He was going to kill her, he realized dully. Did he care? Every fiber of his being rebelled against the thought of ceasing. Every fiber but one— perhaps it was some minute shred of who he once was. Perhaps it was self-preservation. After all, what would his fellow travelers think if they found Embrae drained tomorrow? Whatever the reason, Astarion let Embrae go with a groan and sprang to his feet. “Yes, yes, of course he said absently.” He felt drunk, almost manic as he backed up to give her— and himself— some space. “That was— amazing.” He said, wiping a bit of her blood off his lips and tasting it. He looked down at her as the haze of pleasure and bloodlust lifted. She was still sitting, looking up at him her hand pressed against the wound on her neck. “My mind is finally clear,” he said, feeling almost surprised. “I feel strong. I feel— happy.” he laughed at the thought. 

Embrae got to her feet, shaky. Perhaps I took too much, he worried at the back of his mind. 

“Well, good. I suppose,” she said eyeing him. “I look forward to seeing you fight.” 

“It shouldn’t take long,” he replied, feeling the newfound power flowing through his body. “There are so many people to kill.” He grinned at her, no longer trying to hide his teeth. He was full of energy, and vitality— he needed to go or he might be tempted to take more. “Now, darling, you’re invigorating but I’ve got to find something more— filling.” 

He turned away from the half-elf towards the line of woods and stopped. She had given to him freely— what would she expect in return? His exuberance soured slightly, a familiar anxiety invading his good mood as the likely answer presented itself. He turned his head and looked back at her, avoiding eye contact. “Thank you, Embrae,” he said. “I— this was a gift. I won’t forget it.” 

[queen-scribbles]

Greetings From Nasitaaq

For @pillarspromptsweekly 67: Correspond. I have several ideas for this one, but this was the first one to come together

[this letter is travel-stained and ragged around the edges, sporting rips and other marks that make it clear it visited a few other destinations before finding its way to the intended recipient. Wrapped inside is a simple but exquisite wooden figurine of an artic fox, smoothed and polished until it shines]

Hey Tav,

Hope everything’s going alright for you. I know being Lady of Caed Nua wasn’t your first choice something you were looking forward to, but it has to have some perks. Nothing is life is ever all bad.

My main reason for writing is to explain the enclosed fox. When I got home from looking for Persoq, it turned out Najuo picked up whittling while I was gone. (Can’t say I’m surprised. He’s always been a creative kid, liked doing things with his hands, and he didn’t have anything else to do after he finished his lessons) I told him about how you like to whittle, animals and such, and he decided it was his goal in life to be as good as you. This carving is the first one someone  offered him coin for. He figured that means he’s at least as good as you now. He wouldn’t sell the fox, said it’s special, but he does carve and whittle things for people. They pay him or make trades, this isn’t just a hobby for him anymore.

Me and Kallu are both proud of him. He decided he wanted you to have this one--hopefully it doesn’t get too banged up on the way--because you were an inspiration to him. Apparently I talk about you a lot, since Yakona and Malaak agreed with him. Congratulations, Tav, you’re a role model to a trio of kids who never even met you. How’s that feel?

As for the rest of my family--might as well, right? Since I spent so long gabbing about Najuo--Kallu’s thrilled that I’ve started stepping back from the hunts to spend more time at home. I think he missed me even more than he let on(which was already a lot). My search for Persoq was so long, hunting’s kind of lost its appeal for me. I’d rather stay close to home.

Besides, Yakona’s grown up into a fucking top knotch huntress if I do say so myself. Self taught most of the way, too. She knows what she’s doing better than most. She can represent our family in the hunts both great and small. I know she’ll do a good job. I’m just glad her wolf and Itumaak get along when she’s home.

Malaak just started an apprenticeship with one of Massuk’s masons. He has a knack for building, and there were four of the best fighting over him. He got to pick, and went with Master Qaniit, since he’s the most experienced. It’s going well so far, and he’s excited by all he’s learning.

And I guess that’s everything. I’ll probably never be in the Dyrwood again, but if you ever find yourself within shouting distance of Nasitaaq, feel free to swing by. We’d love to see you, and catching up is so much easier to do in person.

~Sagani