Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold.
It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much.
And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no…
The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.
They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands.
There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough!
And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways.
So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten.
And maybe they are, especially Astarion.
But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.
When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters.
Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns.
They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…
That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time.
Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal.
No, those people know nothing at all...
“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.
The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable.
Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort.
By now, he knows every step of this game.
“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”
Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav.
Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late.
“Want apple!”
Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier.
“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?”
The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress.
She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.
Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.
“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…
The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls.
Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day.
Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it.
But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.
Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her.
The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed.
He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.
“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.
Astarion pauses.
He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore.
By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.
And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe.
He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever.
Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet.
He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family.
These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.
He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.
It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him.
Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.
And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it.
“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head.
When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.
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I don't know if you're taking requests but I'd like to make one if that's ok for you, one where Pedro was the reader's first man, in the sexual sense, and the second time they're going to do it (maybe in the shower please?😁) he is still careful and respectful, asking if everything is ok, if she feels good, very cute with the reader... that's so him
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader
Warnings: allusion to smut and virginity loss
It took a lot of courage for you to admit it.
A woman of your age who hadn't lost her virginity yet wasn't something you saw every day, and you felt... well frankly you were a little ashamed of it.
It's not like men hadn't tried, You'd had boyfriends, and you had your fair share of fun, but there was always something stopping you the moment things started... heating up.
The truth was that if you were gonna have sex, you wanted it to be with the right person, a person you fully trusted and who you knew would take care of you, which, unfortunately for you, turned out to be very hard to find.
Until now, that was.
You knew Pedro was the right one the moment you met him. And I don't only mean about the sex, no, he was the right one, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.
So naturally, at one point you had to confess your "inexperience" to him, and although you knew he was gonna be nice about it, you didn't expect him to be that nice.
He had been incredibly kind and supportive, promising you over and over that there was nothing wrong with it and that he didn't mind having to wait, because as he put it He'd wait his whole life if that's what you wanted
So then a few weeks later, when you finally told him you were ready, he had made love to you like you had imagined your whole life your first time would be, filled with kisses and sweet nothings, and of course, love.
And now... well now that you had gotten a taste of it, you had found out you liked it, a lot.
It was only the morning after, but you were in the shower together, and his lips were so soft against your own, and the water was so warm, and his body felt so good against your own as he helped you wash away the evidence of last night's activities...
"Baby" you murmured, your breathing heavier already
"Yeah sweetheart?" he asked, kissing your neck.
"I think-" you bit your lip, kind of anxious to end the sentence
"What?"
"I think I wanna do it again"
He arched a brow in surprise.
"You sure?"
"mh-mh" you nodded
"you know angel, if you're saying that just cause you think I want to-"
"no" you stopped him "No baby, I- I really want to do it"
"oh" he couldn't help but smile a little as his thumb started stroking your cheek "Then let's get you to bed"
"Can't we..." you wondered aloud, "can't we do it here?"
"In the shower?"
"Yeah"
"You sure sweetheart? I don't want you to be uncomfortable"
"I wanna try"
"Yeah?" he smiled, his big brown eyes boring into yours to try and find any trace of uncertainty, and coming up empty.
"mh-mh" you nodded
"All right then" he smirked "Whatever my pretty lady wants"
He kissed you sweetly then, backing you up against the wall behind you, and your heartbeat was already racing.
"ok" he breathed, looking at you like you were the most precious thing on this earth "So like last time I want you to tell me everything Ok? If something doesn't feel good, you tell me, if you're starting to get uncomfortable, you tell me, if you changed your mind and don't wanna do this anymore, you tell me." he spoke "I want you to enjoy this, alright?"
"yes" you nodded
"Good" he smiled "Now c'mere"
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