#“you are not immune to the vampire charms”

[theladyofthevarioussorrows]

In honor of Lestat de Lioncourt's 264th birthday, I present to you...

Written in Blood, or the Play in which The Brat Prince Ties the Knot

Part I (of IV)

Fandom: The Vampire Chronicles (Gothic horror novel series, 1976-2018); Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (TV series, 2022-present)

Pairing: Lestat de Lioncourt/fem!reader; Lestat de Lioncourt/You

Word count: 3,900+

Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid, the best version…­­­the only one that matters, obviously); fem!reader; The Vampire Armand (lol ouch); Nicolas de Lenfent (even bigger ouch, RIP); Santiago; Estelle; Celeste; Eglee; Sam; Gustav; Quang Pham; pretty much the entire Theatre des Vampires.

Summary: Fem!reader is the newest addition to the Theatre des Vampires, and Lestat becomes smitten with her (of course he does, the little whore!). Lestat’s allure, charm, beauty, and viciousness are not lost on the reader, and she falls for him (I mean, who wouldn’t, let’s be honest). With fem!reader being the freshest member of the Coven, Santiago “initiates” her (similar to how he brought Claudia in) by casting her as Lestat’s co-star in the next play as his love interest. The play, overseen reluctantly by Armand is about a wedding (in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew, As You Like It, or something similar but accurate to the time period, that is the vibe…Lestat, little miss Lady Macbeth himself, “barely Balthazar” Armand, “too old to play Hamlet, too young to play Polonius” Santiago, and I are all Shakespeare girlies, so I thought it would make sense); fem!reader and Lestat are actually getting legally married, unbeknownst to the mortal audience. Fem!reader and Lestat are to be the bride and groom, Santiago is the Justice of the Peace, and the rest of the TDV are the wedding party. While Armand is still the Coven leader, he “directs” the play and Nicki leads the orchestra. Things do not go the way they were planned to go (in Armand’s case); a story of love, sex, and vampire drama unfolds.

Warnings and additional tags: New/eventual relationship, established relationship, smut (P in V), fluff, mention of sex, mention of masturbation, (F and M), oral sex (F and M receiving), all characters (except the reader, duh) are written to be as close to the way they are in the books as well as the show to the best of my ability, reader-insert, reader-interactive, use of Y/N, Lestat gives the reader pet names in French (this is Lestat, after all), mutual pining, flirting, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism (is anything Lestat does really a secret? No, not really), blood drinking, blood sucking, bloodletting, biting, gore, violence, murder (feeding on humans is the only instance of this), both Lestat and fem!reader are bisexual, age gap (fem!reader is younger than Lestat by at least a bit but it doesn’t really matter as much because he himself is a new-ish vampire; Lestat would still be somewhere in his thirties in mortal years by the show’s timeline), Lestat is very seductive and persuasive (fem!reader doesn’t need much persuading, so it’s not a bad thing), a bunch of mentions of Shakespeare, lines from As You Like It are in italics and dialogue from vampires using the Mind Gift are in bold italics.

Notes: This story takes place while Lestat is still performing with the Theatre des Vampires and is newly a vampire himself. Magnus is obviously dead by now (thank God). The events of this fic take place after Lestat breaks up with both Nicki (he is still alive at this point in time) and Armand, but before he meets Louis de Pointe du Lac and later Claudia. I don’t have anything against either character (I adore both greatly!), this is just a “what if?” kind of situation. This is a basic idea I had had for literal years ever since I read the books, but I didn’t do anything with it until the second season of the show started, specifically episode 10. I wasn’t immune to Harlequin Lestat, and I was FERAL about it. Sam Reid only made that worse for me (God, I am so in love with him…that man IS Lestat. He doesn’t just play him, he BECAME him, and no one else has come close. Tom Cruise and Stuart Townsend could NEVER!). The premise of the fic came to me while listening to “Written in Blood” by She Wants Revenge…one thing led to another, and here we are! Also, yes, I KNOW the vampires don’t “have sex” in the novels, but they do in the show (a LOT). I might make references to things that have happened in the books (mostly Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, possibly a bit of Queen of the Damned) but might not have been shown in the TV series yet, so reader beware of that. Let this be the spoiler warning if you are not familiar with the books or haven’t watched the show. I am completely ignoring both movies, because they mean absolutely nothing to me now that the (far superior) show exists. The piece that fem!reader uses for her audition comes from Shakespeare’s comedy As You Like It…she is reading as Rosalind while disguised as Ganymede, and Lestat reads with her as Orlando. I thought the parallels were a nice touch. I obviously do not own the rights to As You Like It, I merely used the one scene for Y/N’s audition, and to add romantic and dramatic effect. Special shout out to my best friend Riley for their contribution and ideas!

Language: English (except for a handful of pet names and expressions used by Lestat in French, hopefully I did it correctly. I took 4 years of French in high school, but I am not fluent)

_________________________________________

It was a cool autumn night in Paris, and while mortals slept, the undead were busy welcoming their newest member to their coven inside the old auditorium. The Vampire Armand stood proudly in front of the stage, looking up at the Theatre’s founder and poster child Lestat de Lioncourt, giving him notes and stage directions he knows full well Lestat will not listen to. Next to Lestat was Y/F/N Y/L/N, a freshly turned vampire herself.

Today was Y/N’s audition to join the Theatre des Vampires, and although nervous, she felt at home already among the other thespians in the room with her. With her lifelong love of theatre and literature that only intensified in her newly immortal life, Y/N knew she was in good company. She caught herself stealing glances at Lestat, as if against her will, but she knew she couldn’t help herself. Of all the vampires in this room—the stage director and Coven leader Armand, fellow company members Eglee, Celeste, Estelle, Sam, Gustav, and Quang Pham in the seats, as well as the gifted violinist Nicki hiding in the wings—there is something captivating and enchanting about this charismatic blonde actor. Y/N felt immediately attracted to this man, and she was both alarmed by and pleased with this sudden revelation. Lestat could feel Y/N’s attraction to him, something he found adorable, endearing, distracting, and quite arousing. Lestat gazed at her, a charmingly wicked smile on his face as he admired the young vampire in front of him. Armand, annoyed but pushing the uneasy feeling down, turned to look at Y/N.

“Welcome to the Theatre, dear Y/N. The Coven and I are interested as to how you found yourself in Paris, and how you found us. Please, enlighten everyone,” Armand said, with a slight air of both curiosity and mild arrogance rolled together. Y/N quickly moved her glance from Lestat to Armand and shivered slightly before she answered.

“Hello all, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I was visiting when I was given the Dark Gift. I have been in Paris ever since. I heard about the Theatre through my maker, and through discovering the Theatre, I found out about the Coven.” As she told the truth, she felt Santiago staring daggers at her, full of amusement.

“So, little miss Y/L/N, it seems as though you enjoy the arts, is that right?” said Santiago, with a slithery snark. Y/N nodded her head. “A birdie told me that you’re auditioning with one of Shakespeare’s lesser works, yes?” Y/N nodded again. Lestat’s blueish violet eyes widened as he grinned a little bigger.

“Yes, I will be reading as Rosalind disguised as Ganymede. I hope you find it suitable,” she said politely, trying to stifle a small tinge of laughter. Santiago exaggerated his giggle to mock her slightly before speaking again.

“Hmm, I assume you would like to have someone read with you. I wonder who that could be…” Santiago’s voice trailed off as he shifted his glance from Y/N to the left of her.

The slender, blonde, and devilishly handsome vampire beside Y/N spoke before she could even have the thought to respond. Watching from the wings, the violinist Nicki put a hand to his forehead with a quiet groan.

“I volunteer myself. I know the play by heart,” said Lestat. He shot Y/N a soft but sly grin as he placed his hand on his chest, reeling in the blush that appeared on her face. Armand had to hold back a scoff as Lestat offered to read with her. “I’m quite curious to see how she does, if I may.” Lestat gently bowed as he spoke to her, with a smile on his face and intrigue in his heart. Lestat was many things, and subtle was not one of them. Y/N nodded, smiling slyly back at him.

“You may,” Y/N said, bowing slightly. Her cheeks cast a rosy glow upon them as she smiled. Santiago chuckled to himself, and Armand choked down another scoff as he looked back to Y/N and Lestat.

“As you wish. Lestat, you will read with Y/N as Orlando, starting from his entrance after Jaques exits the scene. Y/N, you will follow.” Armand crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two vampires in front of him on the stage.

“Yes, maître,” said Y/N, slightly nervous but strangely excited about reading alongside this hauntingly tempting creature next to her. She got herself into character quickly, trying to fight off the thought of how sweet Lestat’s blood might taste on her tongue and how soft his full lips must be, among various other salacious and primal things that she wasn’t aware of that she needed or wanted. It wasn’t an unwelcome thing—Lestat had something disarmingly attractive about him. Y/N felt drawn to him somehow, but she tried in vain to hide it. Lestat cleared his throat and prepared himself as well, his own pale skin turning a faint pink as they moved to the middle of the stage. Butterflies fluttered inside their bodies as they began their scene. After a few seconds of silence passed, Lestat launched into character.

“My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.” Lestat said, remembering the lines from memory as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite her nervousness and giddiness, Y/N began herself.

“Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ th’ shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.” Y/N matched Lestat’s intensity and focus as she spoke her lines. Astonished by her delivery, he carried on with his own lines.

“Pardon me, dear Rosalind,” continued Lestat, feeling a rush of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach, the pleasant sensation only growing stronger as she went on. Lestat watched her as she moved effortlessly through her audition, overcome with awe, very nearly stumbling on his own lines as a result. Armand and Santiago watched from the bottom of the stage as Y/N and Lestat kept going.

Armand watched from the front row and noticed Lestat’s immediate and oddly natural chemistry with Y/N and was well aware of the subtle attraction and quiet infatuation she felt towards Lestat. Armand could feel it through her, and it bothered him. He couldn’t help it; he began to feel his face turn green with envy. Santiago, however, was greatly amused at what was unfolding in front of them—and he relished the drama of it all. The rest of the Coven watched from the seats intently, some engrossed, some unbothered. Nicki leaned up against the wall backstage, a pained expression etched on his features. Looking on at his former lover floating across the stage with a woman whom he had only met mere hours ago and watching her fall under his spell just as he had, Nicki shook his head, a grimace forming on his face.

With all due respect, maître…maybe we should keep an eye on the new one, said Santiago, filling Armand’s head with his thoughts without moving his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before our dear founder tries to take her to bed with him…you know as well as I do how he is. And seeing how she’s looking at him—Armand did not want to hear this. Lestat and Y/N were too immersed in their scene and lost in each other to hear them through their own minds.

Armand cut him off. Enough, Santiago. I know very well how Lestat operates. Let them finish. I’ll allow Y/N to continue, for now. We shall decide what measures to take when the time is right… As Armand and Santiago sized Y/N up, she breezed through her audition.

“Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rosalind?” Y/N continued as she blushed and smiled at Lestat. Anything he did in his impromptu performance, she followed with masterful skill.

Lestat slowly walked closer to her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Lestat looked at Y/N, smirking as he brushed some of his long blonde hair behind his ear. He let the silence expand for a second before he continued.

“I would kiss before I spoke.”

Lestat and Y/N gazed at each other as if they were the only beings in the room, amusing Santiago morbidly and annoying Armand profoundly. A mixture of admiration and a deep hunger formed inside Lestat’s chest, and Y/N’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She gulped quietly as she tried to keep up with Lestat. Determined to give the best audition she could despite having to act opposite the most gorgeous creature she has ever laid her eyes on, alive or dead, Y/N tried to fight off her own desire building within her. Soft gasps could be heard from the other vampires watching them from the seats.

“Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”

Sensing Y/N’s struggle to maintain her composure, Lestat met her energy with his own words. “How if the kiss be denied?” He looked at her for a beat, cocking his head to one side quizzically. Y/N answered him with a playful shrug.

“Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.”

Lestat continued his teasing, delighted by the thrill Y/N gave him. “Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?”

Y/N pretended to scoff. “Marry, that should you if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.”

Lestat looked at Y/N with a look of mock surprise. “What, of my suit?” he said, his voice harboring a more sensual tone this time.

“Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am I not your Rosalind?” Y/N floated across the stage like a ghost, every single movement calculated and carried out so smoothly.

“I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.” Lestat’s face reddened slightly as he noticed how Y/N’s jaw dropped, but only for a second before she kept going.

“Well, in her person I say I will not have you.” Y/N let out an exaggerated giggle as she playfully spun around slowly.

A dramatic sigh escaped Lestat’s lungs. “Then in mine own person I die.” He looked back at Y/N as she turned to face him again.

“By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it.” Y/N gazed at the vampire in front of her, only inches separating them now. Lestat reached out to gently caress Y/N’s cheek as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, making her blush even more obvious in her face now. He has her right where he wants her, and as fate or some other mystical thing would have it, Y/N is right where she wants to be. Once again, Lestat drew the silence out for a beat too long before he spoke.

“Then love me, Rosalind.”

Y/N’s voice trembled a little as she leaned into Lestat’s touch. His unbroken focus on her made her feel slightly faint just from the way he looked at her, but she kept her cool as best as she could. “Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.” She shyly smiled up at him, trying and failing to hide her quiet swooning.

Lestat hung on to every word that left her lips as if he had never heard such language spoken before. Of course, he was no stranger to the stage himself, having been the Theatre’s main selling point for a few years now. The act of performing on a stage in front of an enamored audience always thrilled him, but she…she was different. This new and sudden but pleasant feeling cut him way deeper, hit him harder—he knew that she was something magical. And Lestat wasn’t quite sure where to put that desire and hunger, so he decided to do the thing he does best: he needed to have her all to himself, by any means necessary. Lestat was delighted to find that the feeling was so clearly mutual.

Santiago watched Lestat enchant Y/N as they continued with their performances. He gasped quietly as he saw Lestat become smitten with Y/N, rolling his eyes. Just look at those two! Can you believe them? They’ve made eyes at each other from the second she came through the door. They’ve only just met a few hours ago and he’s looking at her like Venus de Milo herself…and she looks as if she’s about to melt through the floor. Armand found himself becoming more and more annoyed as Lestat and Y/N carried on like they were, and Santiago took notice. Maître, you’re grinding your teeth…

Armand huffed quietly. I said let them continue. Y/N is smarter than we realize. If she doesn’t know who she’s getting herself tied up with, she will. I can guarantee that. Armand maintained his mildly annoyed expression as he crossed his arms over his chest. I see potential in her. We can use that potential.

Santiago, ever the drama queen but also the suck-up, tried to push Armand’s buttons. How shall we do that, maître? I wonder what our violinist has to say about this…I can’t imagine he’s especially thrilled about—

Armand cut him off once again. Be silent now, Santiago. Nicki is the least of my worries right now.

Now mildly aware of the growing discomfort in the pit of Armand’s stomach and Santiago’s antagonizing of him, Lestat continued to read with Y/N. He was enraptured by her, this was true—but he also found quite a bit of amusement in making Armand uncomfortable. Y/N, less aware of the effect her performance is having on the Coven leader and his all-too-willing sidekick, matched him masterfully.

“And wilt thou have me?” said Lestat, sultry and low.

Y/N nodded her head and smiled. “Ay, and twenty such.”

Lestat felt his heart flutter in his chest as he moved closer to her. “What sayest thou?”

Y/N gently bit her lip then let it go with a smirk. “Are you not good?”

“I hope so.” Lestat rolled his eyes in a sassy manner.

“Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?” Y/N went on, closing the small space between herself and Lestat.

The vaguely pained expression did not escape Armand’s face. Still wanting to maintain some sort of order and power over his Coven, Armand kept his focus fixed on the two vampires on the stage in front of him.

Santiago, an evil grin taking shape over his features, watched Lestat and Y/N’s bond become deeper by the second as Y/N continued. “Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando.” Y/N gently reached for Lestat’s hand, and he placed it in hers, tangling their fingers together. She looked to where the audience would be sitting. “What do you say sister?” Y/N looked back up at Lestat as he gazed back at her, their vampire eyes blown out with love and desire for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, Lestat put his finger under Y/N’s chin and gingerly tilted her head up. He started to move down to press his lips to hers, and she moved up to meet him. He closed his eyes, and her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips gently—

A groan could be heard from Armand as Santiago abruptly rose from his seat and applauded loudly. Lestat and Y/N snapped out of their trance and pulled away from each other, no longer able to hide their blushing. The rest of the Coven began to applaud as well. The vampires Sam and Gustav were enthusiastic in their encouragement of the new potential member of the Coven and her undeniable and palpable chemistry with their Theatre’s founder. Celeste looked on with a proud smile on her face, while Estelle clapped wildly. Eglee rolled her eyes before eventually joining in with her applause. Backstage, Nicki shook his head again as he quietly left the auditorium, quietly cursing under his breath.

“Very well done, Y/N. Very well done indeed,” said Santiago, sounding giddier than he probably should. He looked at Armand. “What say you, maître?” he asked with mock amusement.

Armand once again did not listen. He looked up at Y/N as Lestat released her from his gentle but bold embrace. “Exquisite work, Y/N. Exceptional. While we evaluate your performance, you are welcome to remain here with the Coven. We have provided a coffin for you near your maker’s.” Armand started to dismiss everyone before he turned back to Y/N. “We do expect you to keep our hours, curfew is three o’clock sharp.” He shot a subtle but menacing glare at Lestat. Lestat rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as he turned his back to him. Armand looked at Y/N again. Lestat smiled warmly at Y/N as he winked at her.

Still reeling from everything that just occurred, Y/N nodded and bowed. “Yes maître, I will. Thank you all.” Armand dismissed Santiago and the rest of the Coven, and they all left the auditorium.

It was then that Y/N heard a sensual and seductive voice inside her head.

Très bien fait, ma chérie. I’m impressed.

Y/N turned around to find Lestat leaning against the piano on the stage, his arms crossed over his chest, looking her up and down, dripping with genuine curiosity and insatiable desire. She blushed and smiled as she met his gaze.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Lestat. It really means a lot to hear.” Y/N walked over to him, slightly nervous but not at all deterred. “You were amazing yourself.”

Lestat rolled his eyes playfully at her compliment but accepted it. “You flatter me, mon amour.” He stood up straight and walked over to her, looking down at her with that softly sly smirk again. “I must say, my dear Y/N, you are quite the actress. Many have come and gone from this theatre, but none have bewitched me so like you have, ma petite fleur.”

Y/N swooned at his words, slightly taken aback by the sincerity in them despite the obvious attraction. “Oh, you’re too kind. It’s not often I’m in the presence of someone so…” She caught herself getting lost in his eyes again—something she has by now realized is very easy to do—before she continued. “So…enchanting as you.”

Lestat chuckled lowly. “Is that so? Well, you have captivated me too, love,” he said, pausing briefly as he took the sight of her in. “I haven’t seen such talent on this stage in quite some time, Y/N.” She blushed deeper as she took a second to gather her thoughts. Y/N sighed softly before speaking.

“Thank you! I’m just happy that I can finally do what I love to do. Up until today, I thought it was unfortunate that I couldn’t do this kind of thing when I was mortal, but I don’t have that feeling now that I’m here. In an odd way, it feels right like this.” Y/N chuckled lightly.

Lestat listened to her words intently. “I know that feeling very well, mon coeur. For what it’s worth, I’m quite glad you wandered into our midst. I can see already that you’re passionate about the Theatre, and it’s refreshing. You’re simply lovely.” Y/N smiled at his words of admiration and encouragement. “I cannot wait to see what other talents you possess, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said with a smirk, appreciating the slight drop of her jaw. Noticing the positive tension on her face, Lestat spoke gently to her. “Oh, and don’t be nervous, chérie. There is nothing to be afraid of. I have no doubt you’ll fit in here, I am sure of it.” He traced her jawline affectionately before tilting her head up to bring her eyes to meet his, just like he did during her audition. “And, if I may be so bold, I would love to get to know you better. If you’ll have me, of course.” Y/N’s eyes widened as she swooned. She nodded as she stuttered slightly.

“I’d love to, Lestat. I would be honored.” Y/N felt her heart jump into her mouth. The gorgeous blonde vampire in front of her reveled in how flustered she looked as he spoke to her.

“Very well then, dear Y/N. We’ll continue our little conversation after your initiation tomorrow.”

Y/N gulped. “My…my what?!”

Lestat giggled slyly. “You heard me correctly, ma chérie. Welcome to the Theatre, darling. You’re one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

“But…Armand said—” Lestat gently placed a finger over her lips to shut her up as he spoke lowly to her, sultry and dripping with desire.

“Shh, ma jolie fille…never mind what that manipulative gremlin Armand said.” Lestat let his finger gently drag across her bottom lip before letting it go. He brushed some of her hair behind her ear as he continued. “I’ll be seeing you backstage afterwards, yes?”

There was no way for him to be coy about his appetite for her any more than he had earlier. The vampire Lestat de Lioncourt, the Brat Prince himself, was anything but shy about his unquenchable thirst for Y/N; it only grew exponentially in the few hours since he met her.

Y/N felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs as she nodded. “Of course, Lestat. You will.” She smiled at him, trying to regulate her breathing.

Lestat smiled wickedly at her again. “Très bien, mon amour. I’ll see you then.” He caressed her face again before turning to walk away. “Bonne nuit, ma belle. Sweet dreams.”

Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she smiled. “Good night, Lestat. I hope you sleep well.” Blushing, she beamed at him, and he smiled back, a blush of his own on his face.

With that, they left the room. As she lifted the lid to her coffin next to the others to crawl inside it, Y/N gasped as she heard Lestat’s voice in her head again, stopping her momentarily.

Remember what I told you, ma petite fleur. There is nothing to worry your pretty little head with. And know this too, my darling: I don't bite...hard.

[yutaan]

Papercraft Astarion, made as a birthday gift for a friend-of-a-friend! The designs in this game are so striking and the story sounds fascinating; I had enormous fun looking through screenshots for references and getting completely distracted. :D

[lennadanvers]

Yes, Your Honor, my client did commit the murder. But, in his defense, he's babygirl.

[k9wa]

⟁ SANGUINE. ft ARGENTI.

⠀ — “but should you allow me, i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a vampire is struck with love at first sight for the human sent to pierce his heart.

⚠︎ vampire!argent & vampire hunter!reader, gn reader, mentions of blood, consuming blood, death, weapons, all that vampire-y stuff, suggestive content, a little sweetness, some gore, so much flirting, argenti is a lil bit of a freak, your freak tho, i love doomed couples, wc 3.2k, from this req.

it’d been weeks now— weeks of terror and bloodshed in a small, humble village to the east. 

a monster, people cried, praying and pleading for someone— anyone to bring justice to their befallen family and friends, their neighbours and colleagues taken and drained of life in the night. you, well-versed and experienced with this ever repeating scenario, were finally sought out as a last ditch and oh so desperate attempt at restoring peace and safety to a once joyful town; told of a red beast who lures prey in with his charm and sinks his teeth into anything deemed beautiful.

vampires were messy hunters, whether they attempted cleanliness or not. it wasn’t an impossible job to follow a few faint traces— blood specks, pieces of fabric, etc— to a mossied, cobblestone path. the muffled clack of your boots against the rock was the only sound for miles in the silent, secluded forest. finally, your search proved somewhat fruitful upon finding a wall of thick, overgrown rose bushes.

pushing past the thorny wall— clearly designed to keep trespassers such as yourself out— revealed a sight nothing short of breathtaking; an old castle-esque manor in the centre of all the red flowers and shrubbery. 

this was where it lived, you had no doubt in your head as you kept forward.

a solution on how to breach the eerie yet beautiful building was but a fleeting thought, your fingers tightening around the hold of a dagger in your palm as the door easily opened with a mere, gentle push.

(years of hunting the wretched creatures left you hearing nearly hundreds of idiotic vampire weaknesses and immunities— the silver in your weapons and a clean shot to the heart was all you’d ever needed.)

as the aged, ornate door creaked open with the whispers of the forest's night, argenti caught the faintest sense (or rather scent) of an intruder; a fragrance and feeling that strongly pulled him to his staircase to further investigate. this smell promised beauty, he could not resist his own curiosity as his lips still glistened crimson.

“ah,” the vampire ran his fingers along the old hand railing with an almost dreamy sigh. “what curious little lamb graces my abode tonight?” he crooned, locking eyes with the figure that’d just stepped into his foyer. 

the sight of you would have taken argenti's breath away, had he had any to steal. your eyes in the moonlight, the faint glisten of your skin, the shine of your hair— you were no ordinary nor foolish trespasser— you warranted his undivided attention.

he was across the room in one swift step, tucking his now red sullied handkerchief into one of his pockets. an amused smile danced on his lips as he took in your cautious stance, the weapon ready to strike.

“you,” argenti leaned forward, lips tugging up further. “must be the hunter sent to end my nocturnal escapades.” he mused, verdant eyes locked onto your form like prey. you instinctively took a step back, keeping a safe distance that argenti was already yearning to bridge.

“keen observation.” you responded with a twinge of sarcasm that the vampire audibly giggled at.

“what are you called?” he asked, beginning to pace a slow circle around you.

“my name is unimportant.”

“it must be a crime for beauty such as yours to go unnamed or unpraised, hunter.”

the compliment didn’t go over your head, nor did the fact that this was the prettiest vampire— prettiest being, actually, that you had ever seen. however, he was still your target, regardless of the way his words made your chest warm.

“i'm afraid we won’t have time for all that, vampire.”

argenti's eyes flashed with both amusement and anticipation as you rebuffed his advances, hues of green gleaming as you twirled your dagger and made your first attack.

his supernatural reflexes sprang into action, evading your small blade with a swift sidestep and a cut to his red, velvet overcoat just above his heart. the thrill of the hunt, the game of predator and prey with the lines so delightfully blurred, coursed through him.

“such haste,” he chided, tsking softly as he caught your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. “would you not rather savour the moment, mon chasseur?” 

argenti's focus trailed down the bridge of your nose, the curve and swell of your lips, rounded edges of your jaw, acknowledging with a faint hum the beauty of bravery etched into your features. 

“i've never been one for sentimentality,” you responded calmly, letting the weapon in your caught hand drop to the floor with an unheard clang. “you’ll have to forgive me.”

the dance continued, your now open hand shifting in his hold to grab his fingers and spin him around. even as you reached for your weapon on your other thigh, argenti laughed— a rich and sweet sound that echoed through the manor. he admired your pragmatism, even while relishing in the thrilling two-step you engaged in.

as you switched the position with a practised ease, argenti felt the air shift behind him with another stab aimed for the left of his back. a lean to the right and another turn around left your other wrist in his hold, evading you a second time.

“brava, ma chérie,” the vampire praised, his voice dripping with admiration and affection alongside challenge. he gave your wrists a firmer squeeze, a subtle yet clear reminder of the strength that lurked beneath his aristocratic facade. “but don’t be fooled,” argenti leaned dangerously forward, breath a cool whisper against your skin, fangs grazing the skin of your neck just under your ear. “i'm not so easily felled.”

the feeling of teeth so close to your nape had your foot raising and kicking him away with an almost panicked reflex, argenti stumbling back at the force.

“i've never met a vampire quite as talkative as you.” you said while adjusting the hold of your knife. your voice was laced with a clear frustration yet also something argenti recognized to be intrigue.

“perhaps you’ve never met one as enamoured with his prey as i,” he retorted, finding your irritation just as delightful as you. 

“talk is the prelude to understanding, my dear,” argenti hummed while straightening his jacket, adjusting the frills of his white sleeves underneath it. “and i find myself just dying to know you.”

it was argenti’s turn to advance for you, aiming to disarm you of that pesky silver in your palm and leave you perfectly vulnerable. though, in an act of hypocrisy, his haste left him making a predictable reach.

“i encourage you to take your own advice,” you quipped, slipping away from the swift grab with an agility honed purely from experience. the angle left you able to kick his ankle from underneath him and shove him down to his back, landing atop him with your knife pointed down at his adam's apple.

“it’s always important to keep a clear head, wouldn’t you agree?”

argenti's heart, though long stilled by death, thrummed with a refreshing and delectable kind of excitement as he found himself pinned beneath you. he could not help but fall deeper into his affections as he lay beneath the cool kiss of your blade at his throat.

“a clear head,” he echoed softly. “one mustn't let desire cloud one's judgement.” he chuckled. “but then again, where is the thrill in restraint?”

you had not yet dealt your deciding finisher, opting to stay still atop him, the only movement being the faux rise and fall of argenti’s chest. a purely reflexive motion that mocked your owns authenticity.

“tell me, hunter,” he continued, voice tinged with a playful edge. “does this proximity disquiet you? or does it intrigue?”

your response was a quick, defensive one— more abrupt than you’d hoped in an attempt to mask the very intrigue he’d so easily sniffed out.

“you flatter yourself too much.” you resisted a scoff. “perhaps i'll just cut your throat to shut you up.”

argenti's lips curled in a sickly smile. 

“you are beautiful.” he praised with a dramatic flourish in his voice. “in all my years, i have seen countless dawns and dusks– but none have displayed the beauty you have captivated me with.”

your steady hold on your weapon earnestly wavered, the moment suspending you both in a tense yet not particularly uncomfortable stare. perhaps charged was a more befitting term.

what was with this guy…?

“trying to save your own skin now?”

argenti chuckled.

“it is no charade, i assure you.” the vampire’s eyes didn’t leave yours for even a moment– the eliminated need to blink rather helpful in maintaining the contact. “your beauty is not something i would invoke so lightly.”

each word argenti spoke was a measured step, a delicate dance toward an understanding or perhaps even a truce– now it was simply a matter of waiting to see if the olive branch he extended was taken. 

“...you’re quite the odd one.” your brows lightly unfurrowed, and argenti keenly watched as you slowly began to relax. 

“what is your name?” you inquired. “so i may remember the beast who so strongly defied my expectations.”

“beast?” argenti echoed, chuckling yet again. “you wound me with such a word.”

though your inquiry, softly spoken, was an unexpected gift– a thread of curiosity argenti was all too eager to grab hold of.

“i am argenti.” he pronounced his name with a sense of pride. “and you, hunter?”

your name was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, lodging itself snuggly in his amygdala. in the momentary vulnerability of the shared moment, argenti was not only blessed with your name but the slight relaxing of your shoulders– blade no longer so firm to his neck. with a seamless grace that centuries of existence had honed, he acted, seizing the fleeting opportunity your brief lapse provided.

in one swift, fluid motion, argenti reversed your positions with a blur of finesse. now it was you who lay beneath him, the cold silver weapon no longer his threat nor your protector as it clambered to the floor beside you. your hands pinned above your head left you unable to reach for it back.

argenti echoed your name with a dreamy sigh, savouring the syllables like a whispered incantation. “a name unique as the one who bears it.”

though you didn’t…struggle. you hadn’t even pushed against his hold the smallest bit. argenti could feel the subtle change, the gentle yielding of your guard as you remained still beneath him. it was an invitation as silent as the moonlit shadows that played across your features.

he tentatively leaned down, fangs grazing the tender skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, a mere whisper away from puncturing the flesh that pulsed with the sweetness he craved.

your proximity was so utterly intoxicating, heady with your scent– a mix of steel resolve and something more primal, more human. yet he did not bite down.

“you are a rare gem, my dear,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing softly against it in a kiss that belied his monstrous nature. “i find myself reluctant to mar such perfection.”

his breath caressed you as he spoke, lips tracing a path up to the shell of your ear.

“but should you allow me,” he whispered. “i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

he was much too overwhelming, each of your senses buzzed with the sound or touch or simple presence of him. you swallowed thickly in a poor attempt to maintain your composure, to at least save some face and act like your body wasn’t slowly burning up.

“you’ve…” your voice still wavered– once more, a poor attempt. “you’ve been kind.” your eyes remained fixed on the large chandelier hung above you, candles still somehow burning. 

“i suppose i wouldn't mind granting you the indulgence, argenti.”

the corners of the vampire’s mouth curved up at your quiet concession, the light tilt of your head a telling permission. your acquiescence was a gift, one he intended to honour with the reverence it deserved.

“your generosity will not go unappreciated.”

his lips returned to the tender skin of your neck, voice a soothing balm to your ear as he positioned his teeth with deliberate care. the sensation of your pulse, strong and rhythmic beneath the surface, was an alluring melody to his already heightened senses.

he allowed himself a moment of restraint, of savouring the precipice upon which you both teetered, before his fangs gently– oh so very gently– pierced your flesh.

the initial penetration was a careful caress; one that made your head swirl with its settling sting, though still tender as a lover’s tentative exploration rather than the savage bite of a beast as you’d so called him.

the taste of you was nothing less than exquisite, a rush of vitality that flooded every conscious part of him. he drank deeply, small gulps quiet in your ear, yet remained instinctually aware of the preciousness of the gift you’d bestowed him.

his free hand, the one not pinning your wrists, trailed down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing sweetly against your skin in an intimate gesture meant to comfort, to connect, to say without words that you were revered even in your vulnerability.

your heart fluttered and palpated in your chest, both with the penetrating susceptibility of argenti holding you as if you were treasured glass and the blood being slowly drained from your veins. your hands, allowed free from their position above you, moved down to carefully cradle the vampire’s head against you, the touch enough to tug at the remnants of argenti’s humanity. it was almost enough to make you forget why you were there in the first place, how you’d gotten yourself into this embrace. your purpose.

keyword, almost.

argenti’s world, meanwhile, narrowed to the euphoric connection between you as he fed, your warmth wrapping tightly around the immortal’s soul and lulling him into a serene complacency. the very serenity that would mask an impending betrayal.

he was too absorbed to feel the deadly, slow movement of your hand to your right, picking your weapon up with the stealth of a seasoned predator. then, in a hunter’s final ploy, you gripped the handle and pushed the silver up through his chest– past his flesh, his ribs, and precisely through his heart.

the sharp pain immediately tore through him, feeling the muscle that had ceased to beat for so long be so violently yet so cleanly tore through. argenti gasped against your neck, a shock of realisation and honest hurt settling in with the physical burn in his skin. the agony sent tremors through his body, a sensation so foreign and so acute it tore a ragged groan from his throat. he reeled from the visceral surprise, his feeding cut short as the born instinct of survival kicked in.

with great effort he lifted his gaze to meet yours, trying so desperately to speak– whether a scathing retort or a final compliment, anything would do. but the attempt was only a muddled whisper, stuck in his throat with his agony.

he used the last of his strength to roll off of you, but you held firm on your blade and rolled with him, pushing deeper at the newfound leverage.

though, to your begrudging admittance, it was…unsatisfactory. even as your head swirled with your own miniscule puncture wound and sudden anaemia, the lingering thrill of being entwined with such a bewitching creature in your bones, the dripping of your own blood down your skin as you succeeded in your kill–  it left you with no feeling of accomplishment or even at the very least quelled by the death of another vampire.

you felt bad. terrible, even. watching the life ebb from argenti was no longer worth the bounty or keeping of your profession or even justice for the ones he’d killed.

argenti’s heavy breaths matched your own, a final weak rasp of your name leaving his lips. his hand reached up, not with malice but with a gentle beseeching, pale fingers brushing against your cheek, smearing a trail of his blood– a final, poignant connection.

and even in death he looked so stunning to you, as did you to him– even as one of your hands remained steadfast around the silver in his heart.

your free hand covered his, helping hold it against your cheek with a slight clutch around his fingers.

“i think you’re beautiful, too.” you admitted, keeping your voice as quiet as possible so as to not cause him anymore pain or discomfort, “the most beautiful i’ve ever seen.”

the vampire’s eyes, clouded with pain, softened at your confession. the irony of your situation was not lost on him, an immortal succumbing to such a mortal wound at the hands of a creature equally captivating as they were lethal.

“you have bestowed upon me…an exquisite end,” argenti murmured, his voice a mere wisp of sound. “to be seen…truly seen by you, to behold s-such beauty in return…” his hand trembled against your skin, the strength of his once mighty grasp fading like the last glimmers of twilight. his green eyes, still holding yours with the intensity of a man both defeated and enthralled, conveyed a wealth of emotions you’d never get to hear.

“there is no greater finale.”

you held his hand tighter. you wanted him to be comfortable– against every instinct carved into your bones you did not want him to suffer more than you had made him.

“i’ll always remember you, argenti.” your voice was a cool salve to his wounded– literally wounded– heart. “i swear it.”

a ghost of a smile graced his pallid lips, your words weaving through the growing darkness around him.

“that,” argenti breathed quietly, the sound laboured and pained. “is a thought more gratifying than eternity.”

“meet me again,” you said quickly. “under better circumstances next time. you must.”

the thought of not being pitted against each other from the start, the muddied roles of prey and predator or species not interfering in your lives, was just the comfort he needed to nod and close his eyes.

“i will, then.” he felt the touch of your lips to his forehead as his body crumbled to a grey ash, a silent farewell. the moment was paradoxical, held tenderness amidst the dark reality of your short time together. too short, you thought. far too short.

soon enough you're left alone, with two palm fulls of dust in the quiet grandeur of the manor, heart heavy with the mix of feelings you had not nearly anticipated uncovering in what was supposed to be a simple job. hats off to you, for walking into the lion's den only to leave mourning its taming.

you pull the small vial of holy water from your neck, dumping the contents out to your left and refilling it with what remained of the vampire who’d so quickly etched himself into your heart. you stood slowly, mindful of your pounding head as you fastened the vial back around your neck and slowly took your leave. sitting around much longer in your unexpected grief felt too eerie, though the few scratches to your skin on your way back through the walls of thorned roses would leave a lingering reminder of how you felt in the current moment. under better circumstances, you repeated in your head for the journey home. someday distant, under better circumstances.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[austinbutlerslovers]

Blood Bound

Label Mature 18+

🎃 Kinktober Oneshot

Summary It had been this way at every event, hadn’t it? He would watch you, and you would watch him, always at a distance. You told yourself it was just an infatuation, some silly attraction to a movie star, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. There was something about him, something magnetic and dangerous, that had always kept you away.

🧡Depraved Smut🧡 spellbound• vulnerable• vampire seduction• neck biting• thigh biting • oral sex fem • clit pinching • squirting • P in V• vampire feeding during orgasms

🔗 Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia 🩸 Mentions of blood

Blood Bound

The Hollywood party is a glittering affair, draped in opulence and excess. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the lavish Hollywood manor, their glow mingling with the hum of low laughter and the clink of champagne flutes.

You’ve been to events like this before—several of them, in fact. You’re not a stranger to this world of fame and beauty. As an up and coming actress, you’ve quickly gained favor, charming producers and directors with your infectious personality and undeniable talent. But tonight feels different.

After the success of your first two movies, your agent pulled strings to get you invited to this event. It’s part of the plan to elevate your career, to put you in the same room with the biggest stars, to make sure your face and name are known to the industry’s power players.

Your reputation is already building with whispers of your incredible acting skills spreading through the circles of the wealthy and influential. Everyone wants a piece of you.

You were on every list, every red carpet gala, every after-party, every exclusive event and that’s how you’d caught his eye—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t come here for him, not intentionally, but it was impossible not to feel his presence when he was near.

You had seen him at several events over the last few months, Austin Butler—a name that had lingered in Hollywood for decades, and yet, he seemed untouched by time. He was perfect in his craft, a man who could command the screen and the red carpet with equal ease, his allure undeniable, his beauty almost inhuman.

He was a masterpiece, comparable to only a few in all of Hollywood, a vision of male beauty. His face, chiseled yet delicate, held an ethereal quality that transcended handsomeness to something beyond.

His ageless allure seemed immune to the passage of time. You could see it in the way his skin appeared to glow under the lights, his features sharp yet graceful, effortlessly drawing the gaze of everyone around him. He didn’t just stand out—he eclipsed everyone else—a figure whose presence was impossible to ignore.

You had seen him on the red carpet, commanding attention without even trying. His movements were slow, deliberate, drawing everyone in, rising above the frenzied chaos of the Hollywood elite. And you couldn’t help but watch him. 

You hadn’t dared approach before, always finding an excuse to avoid introductions. But every time, there was that undeniable lure. You’d catch his eye, and for a moment, it was as if the world paused, leaving just the two of you in that charged silence.

Tonight was no different. From the moment you stepped into the party, you knew he was there. You felt him before you saw him, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, your pulse quickening in a way that was both thrilling and unsettling. 

You had sworn to yourself that this was just another job, another night of mingling with A-list celebrities making sure everything went smoothly. But you couldn’t ignore the way your gaze kept drifting, scanning the room for him.

And then you saw him.

He was leaning casually against the bar, dressed in all black, his shirt sheer revealing the sculpted lines beneath his polished exterior. His torso, perfectly defined, displayed every muscle of his six-pack in flawless symmetry. His waist was narrow, accentuating the sharp, lines of his body, leaving little to the imagination.

His sandy blonde hair was tousled back , perfectly styled, and his eyes—those sharp, mesmerizing eyes—found yours almost immediately. It was as if he had been waiting for you, expecting you. The corners of his mouth lifted into a slow, deliberate smile that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You tore your gaze away, pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with one of the producers you’d worked with before. But his pull was undeniable. Every nerve in your body was aware of him, of the way he moved through the crowd with effortless grace, and how people seemed mesmerized as he spoke with them.

It had been this way at every event, hadn’t it? He would watch you, and you would watch him, always at a distance. 

You told yourself it was just an infatuation, some silly attraction to a movie star, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. There was something about him, something magnetic and dangerous, that had always kept you away.

Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way he keeps his gaze on you, never letting it waver. Maybe it’s the way your body seems to respond, a strange mixture of excitement and fear pulsing through your veins.

He starts to move toward you, and before you can think of an excuse to slip away, he’s already there standing so close you can feel the coolness of his presence. The scent of him fills your senses, deep and rich, like rain on stone.

“You’re always so busy,” he says softly, his voice velvety, each word a soft caress.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes are piercing, as if they see right through you, stripping away all your carefully constructed defenses.

“You’ve noticed me?” You ask almost rhetorically.

A slow smile curves his lips, the kind that makes your breath catch. 

“You stand out to me, even when you’re trying not to.” He reveals, his voice is smooth, with just a hint of danger beneath the surface. “You’ve noticed me too, haven’t you?” He asks, his voice lowering with a knowing tone.

You hesitate. You could lie, pretend you haven’t been stealing glances at him, feeling that strange, unspoken connection between you. But something about the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to withhold the truth.

“Y-yes,” you out right admit, shocking yourself as your voice comes out before you can stop it.

His smile widens, revealing just a hint of something sharper than a regular smile should. His fingers graze your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine. His touch is cold, but it ignites a fire in you, a strange mixture of fear and desire that you can’t quite explain.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says softly, leaning in just a fraction, his lips close to your ear. “But not tonight.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as he easily guides you away from the crowd. He leads you toward the shadows into a lavish sitting area tucked away in the manor.  His hand rests lightly at the small of your back, his touch firm yet gentle, luring you with a promise you don’t fully understand yet.

Once far enough from prying eyes, he presses you gently against the ornate wall within the siting room. His hand rests on your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your skin. His eyes are predatory in the way they roam over you, something dark and knowing flickering beneath their surface.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he asks, his voice soft yet resonating through your entire body.

Your breath hitches as his eyes lock onto yours.

“The pull between us?” He questions.

His eyes gleam like moonstone, the blue almost luminescent in the dim light. His pupils, dark and wide, seem to pull you in deeper, and you can’t help but feel captivated under their spell.

You’ve felt it, though you’ve tried to deny it. Now, standing this close to him, there’s no escaping it. The world around you seems to fade, and all that remains is him—the way he towers over you, the way his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer.

“I don’t understand…” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

He smiles, but it’s not a reassuring smile. It’s dangerous, intoxicating. “I’ve wanted you,” he says softly, his lips brushing your ear. “I’ve been watching you, waiting for the right moment.”

Your heart is pounding wildly, and you don’t understand why you can’t cant flee. His other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as he tilts your head, exposing the curve of your neck. “And tonight,” he whispers, his lips hovering over your skin, “you’re mine.”

Before you can fully comprehend his words, his teeth sink into your neck, a sharp, piercing pain followed by a wave of pleasure so intense it nearly brings you to your knees. You gasp, clutching his arms as he holds you against him, his mouth cools your warm skin as he drinks from you with a hunger that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

And as your blood flows into him, you realize why he has always seemed so beautiful, so untouchable. This is what he is— a vampire, and you, all along, have been his prey.

The truth crashes over you in waves, your thoughts clouded by the growing weakness in your body. Each pull of blood from your veins blurs the line between pleasure and pain, drawing you deeper into a haze of surrender.

Your vision darkens at the edges, the world around you dimming as your strength fades. His lips linger at your throat, the steady rhythm of his feeding pulling you deeper into unconsciousness. Your body grows heavier, your limbs unresponsive as the last of your energy slips through his grasp.

With one final, hazy breath, your eyelids flutter shut. The world disappears into blackness, your thoughts fading until there is nothing left but the feeling of him—the way his body presses against yours, the way your blood seems to flow into him, calling you into an endless, dreamless sleep.

-And then, there is only darkness.

When you slowly awaken, your body is heavy and weak, as if the very essence of you has been drained.

Everything is a blur at first—the soft silk black sheets beneath your naked skin, the dim light casting long shadows across unfamiliar walls. Your head throbs, and a strange numbness clings to your limbs, making it near impossible to move.

You suddenly realize you don’t know where you are, laying naked in an ornate bed. Panic flares in your chest, but your body refuses to respond. It is as if something is holding you there, tethering you to the bed with an invisible force.

You blink, trying to focus, but everything feels dreamlike and unreal. You try to move, but your muscles are sluggish, and unwilling. The room feels oppressive, the air thick and charged with something you can’t quite name.

Then you sense him.

A cool presence, a weight at the edge of the bed. His fingers trail along your skin, starting at your wrist and moving upward with slow, teasing deliberation. The touch is feather light, yet it sends shivers racing down your spine. You turn your head slightly, and see him.

Austin lays perched beside you, his eyes glowing in the dim light like embers, his smile slow and predatory.

“You’re awake,” he grins, his voice low and soothing, though there’s an undeniable hunger lurking beneath it. His nails, sharp and perfectly manicured, graze the inside of your arm, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d sleep forever.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and the words come out as a weak whisper. “Where…?”

“Shh,” he coos, gentle but commanding. “Don’t strain yourself. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” His gaze drops to your neck, and you feel the tender, pulsing ache where his teeth had been.

The memories flood back—his lips on your skin, the sharp sting, the rush of pleasure that drowned out everything else. You try to move, to sit up, but it’s as if your body is no longer yours. It’s under his control, bound by some invisible spell that leaves you vulnerable.

Austin leans closer, his cool breath against your cheek, his lips brushing your ear. “Your blood is so sweet to me,” he whispers, his voice a velvet caress that sends warmth spreading through your core. “I couldn’t resist you. I’ve never tasted anything like you before.”

His hand slides down your arm, over the curve of your waist and you shiver beneath his touch, your heart racing even though your body feels utterly drained.

“I didn’t want to take too much,” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple now, his voice so close it feels dizzying. “But you… you’re different. Your blood—it’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever had….And I want more.”

You gasp softly, fear and desire mixing into something you cant quite name. His hand moves lower, tracing patterns across your stomach, his nails scraping lightly over your skin, enough to make you ache with an unfamiliar need.

“I could drain you dry right now,” he whispers against your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the lingering blood. “But where would the fun in that be?”

Your breath hitches as his fingers dip lower, teasing along your inner thighs, his touch possessive yet careful, as though you are something fragile and precious. 

“I want to savor you, and draw out your pleasure.” he confesses, his eyes locking onto yours, with an otherworldly glint in them.

“You’ll be even sweeter to me,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, his fangs grazing your skin as he breathes you in. 

“Every time I bring you to the peak of pleasure, you’ll taste even better.” he reveals, his voice heavy with desire, his insatiable hunger barely restrained.

“You want that, don’t you?” He whispers and his words wrap around you like a spell, a dangerous allure that makes it hard to think, hard to breathe.

You want to protest, to push him away, but the truth lingers in the air between you. Despite the fear, despite the danger, there’s a part of you that wants it too. His presence, his touch, his need for you—it’s intoxicating, overpowering.

His hand slides back up, cupping your chin tilting your face so your eyes met his. “Say it,” he whispers, his gaze burning into yours, unrelenting. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to be mine.”

Your lips part, and though your voice is barely a whisper, you knew he heard it. “I want it.”

A slow, satisfied smile curls his lips. “Good,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “Then let me make you mine.”

He slowly lowers himself down on your body, his eyes never leaving yours, the heat between you growing with every second. His lips brush against your skin, feather light, teasing you, taking his time.

His touch is soft as if he’s savoring an unspoken command. He moves down lower and every inch of your body is on fire for him as he presses his lips against your skin deliberate and slow.

You can’t stop the way your body responds your breath hitching, your heart racing. His mouth moves lower, brushing between your hips with agonizing patience, his breath cool, his touch impossibly soft.

The sensations send waves of heat rippling through your body, but he stays just at the edge, holding back, as if he’s drawing out every second, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter inside you.

Now… please…you beg him in your mind and without a word, his lips press firmly on your slick heat, his tongue flicking softly over your flesh in exactly the way you wanted.

The pressure is perfect, the rhythm delicate, his movements slow but confident as if hes reading every unspoken thought, responding to every silent plea in your mind as your body lies completely exposed to him.

Each flick of his tongue sends a fresh wave of pleasure surging through you, building with a tension that makes you ache for more. 

His actions are perfect, an exact reflection of the desires swirling in your mind, responding to your every thought before you can even voice them.

You tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by the precision with which he pleases you. The connection between you feels seamless, his every move pushing you closer to the edge, until you become lost in the way he knows exactly how to unravel you.

Just as the world begins to blur, his lips brush teasingly against your sensitive clit. He bites down gently with increasing pressure, enough to send a jolt of pleasure coursing through you so fierce that your breath catches in your throat.

Your body tenses as you cry out and a sudden release of liquid escapes from your core directly into his mouth. The sensation of squirting from his delicate bite leaves you trembling, overwhelmed by the raw, primal ecstasy coursing through you.

You softly moan as he greedily laps at you, the sound lingering in the air as you feel the pleasure of your orgasm rolling through you, and he moves lower, kissing along your inner thigh.

There’s a brief pause as his eyes lock with yours, just long enough for you to understand what’s coming, and then, his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh.

You whimper the sting is sharp and immediate, but it’s more than just pain, It’s something darker, something deeper and where there should be fear, there is only surrender as his fangs pierce into your skin. The coldness of his bite contrasts with the heat pulsing through your core, drawing you into an intoxicating connection between you.

As your blood flows into him and he drinks it you feel something indescribable, a bond, an intimacy beyond anything you’ve ever known. 

His mouth remains at your thigh, his fangs sinking deeper as he moans with every pull, it’s as if he’s not only feeding on your blood but on the very essence of your pleasure. He consumes it, savors it, in a way that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

As your body weakens, his grip on your thigh softens. Your blood flowing into to him firm and steady as he holds your thigh against his mouth. And just as the darkness begins to creep in at the edges of your vision, he withdraws.

His fangs slip from your skin with the softest touch, and then his tongue is there, gently licking the bite marks, soothing the wound with an almost reverent tenderness. 

The coolness of his tongue sends shivers down your spine, and for a moment, the world feels distant, softened by the overwhelming sensation of his care.

He raises his head, his lips wet with your blood, and his eyes meet yours, glowing in the dim light. “Your blood,” he rasps, his voice low and thick with satisfaction, “it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. It’s,  intoxicating to me… it’s perfect.”

The cool weight of his body climbs over you and as he presses his chest down on yours the chill of his skin is a startling contrast to the heat building within you. It grounds you, holds you captive in the surreal reality of the moment.

His body becomes slightly warmer and you shiver knowing he is gaining it from your blood. 

His grip tightens on your waist, his lips hovering near the pulse in your neck. He breaths deeply, savoring every beat of your heart, each trembling gasp that escapes you. 

“You taste so good.” he praises, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Better than I could have ever imagined.” He whispers, his fingers tips brushing against your wetness.

“I’m gong to make you even sweeter… just a little longer.” He reveals, his words sending a thrill through you, as he carefully aligns his cock. 

He slips into your entrance rendering you senseless. The size of him overwhelming, all-consuming, the feeling unfamiliar and exquisitely maddening as you warm his cock.

The way he fills you, is not just physical it’s deeper, there’s a power in it, the way he waits inside you, deliberate and patient, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to your body, as if he’s done this a thousand times before, yet it feels like he’s savoring every second.

“You’ll give me everything,” he whispers, his lips brushing your skin as he begins his slow, and torturous thrusts. “You’ll make yourself sweeter for me, and you won’t even be able to stop yourself.”

You gasp softly, your body responding instinctively, arching toward him as if seeking more of him. The sensation of his cold flesh meeting your heat is intoxicating, a tantalizing contrast that builds with every stroke. 

The way he takes you, the fullness of him, leaves you with no choice but to surrender, to give in to the pleasure that’s building deep within you.

His lips hover just above your skin, a breath away from your throat waiting for the moment to bite, and the anticipation makes your heart pound so loudly it fills your ears.

He smiles—slow and dangerous as he hears every frantic beat of your heart knowing how much control he has over you.

—You feel it, don’t you?—

His voice is a soft caress directly into your mind,

—you’re coming to me now——

He transfers bypassing the need for words altogether.

He’s in your head!

You feel him press his lips to your neck as he thrusts, and his fangs pierce your skin once more, the sharp sting sending a wave of ecstasy coursing through you, amplifying everything until you’re gasping beneath him.

The pain of his bite mingles with the pleasure, becoming indistinguishable from it, and in that moment, it’s clear—as he consumes your blood, he consumes your pleasure, and it’s intoxicating to him.

You feel him drink deeply, his moans vibrating against your neck as he feeds on the sweetness only he can taste. And as your blood flows into him, you realize the terrible, beautiful truth: 

He brings you to the edge of life and death, and you crave him to take you further.

You are his, becoming sweeter with each thrust, each stolen drop of blood, and you will give until there’s nothing left of you. The desire to please him, to offer yourself to his hunger, again and again is all-consuming.

You are his favored one, his sweetest one, and as your strength begins to fade, you welcome it. You want it.

You want him.

He withdraws his fangs, gasping, his lips grazing the hollow of your collarbone as his cock thrusts harder, and you realize, with a shudder, that those thoughts were not your own

—They are his.

The sensation sends a jolt through you, and despite the sheer terror that lingers at the back of your mind, you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

You’ve become a part of him—a thought you can’t quite understand, but one you are helpless to resist.

His hand finds yours, his long fingers entwining with your own as his other hand lightly wraps around your neck. It’s intimate, unsettlingly so, but it stirs something deep within you. You’re utterly exposed to him, vulnerable in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely exhilarating.

“You want this,” he whispers his lips tracing the line of your jaw. “You’ve wanted it longer than you’ve realized.” He says with a grin.

You can’t respond. Your breaths coming in short gasps as his thrusts grow bolder, sending jolts of heat through you as the pressure of his hand never leaves your neck.

His lips find their way back to the sensitive skin of your throat. The briefest brush of his fangs against your pulse point sends a spike of adrenaline through you, and before you can react, his mouth is on you again, his tongue teasing the fresh marks he pierced.

The ache in your neck pulses with each rapid beat of your heart, and you can feel his teeth close to breaking the skin again.

“I can feel it,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “Your heart. It’s racing for me, faster and faster. I wonder… how much more it can take?”

You gasp as his hand tightens around your neck, his touch warmer now, his presence overwhelming your senses until the only thing that exists is him.

You feel his teeth scrape lightly against your neck, a tease, a promise of what’s to come. Your heartbeat is thundering in your ears with every thrust. And then, with a sudden, sharp pain, his fangs sink into your skin once more.

The initial sting is brief, and then comes the rush of pleasure, a wave so powerful it drowns out everything else. It’s overwhelming, flooding your senses and leaving you gasping beneath him.

His lips press to your neck, and you feel the pull of your blood leaving your body, but this time, every pulse of your heart syncs with his movements, as if he’s orchestrating your very being.

Your vision blurs, the room spins, but all you can focus on is the sensation—the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure, the undeniable power he has over you. And somehow, through it all, you want more. You need more.

The pressure builds, your body tightening under his control, and then it hits you a release so intense, it rips through you. Your body shudders violently as you orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you trembling, gasping, and utterly consumed by him.

He moans against your neck, the sound raw and primal, as he drinks deeper, each pull more intense than the last. His grip on your neck tightens, thumb pressing harder under your jaw, and you can feel the shift in his body — his muscles tensing barely restrained as he trusts grow fiercer with every drop he takes.

With a deeply satisfied moan he pulls away. His eyes darker, his lips stained with your blood, but the hunger in his gaze is far from over. He leans in, pressing his lips softly to yours, letting you taste the, metallic sweetness of your own blood and you moan  into his mouth.

His cock is thrusting impossibly harder now, pushing into you with an intensity that feels inhuman. 

His climax builds and you feel his fangs graze your skin once more. You are weaker as he gains your strength and the sting is sharper as he bites down harder, drawing fresh blood. The pain mingles with pleasure, as he drinks deeply syncing with the thrusts of his hips.

With a guttural groan, he comes, his body trembling with the force of it, his cock pulsing with his release. His lips are still latched onto your neck, drinking in the last of your essence as you orgasm wracks through you. The warmth of his seed fills you, combined with the slow, rhythmic pull of your blood, leaving you light headed.

As his thrusts slow and the last waves of his release subside, he continues to feed, moaning against your neck his fangs still buried in your skin. His hunger for you is insatiable and you feel your body and soul bound to him in a way that is inescapable.

Your vision begins to blur, the world around you fading. Each beat of your heart feels slower, weaker, and your limbs grow heavy. A numbness creeps over your body, spreading from your neck where were his fangs pierce through your skin.

The pounding in your ears quiets, and the edges of your consciousness begin to fray, slipping away, as if you’re teetering on the brink of a deep, inescapable darkness.

Just as your world begins to fade entirely, Austin pulls back, his breath heavy and ragged. 

His dark eyes lock onto yours, sensing the shift in your body, the danger of how close you are to slipping away from him. Without hesitation, he pierces his lower lip with his sharp fangs allowing the blood to well and spill before he leans in, pressing his mouth to yours in a desperate, consuming kiss.

Once his blood reaches your tongue you begin to revitalize as if every cell is suddenly alive with energy. You swallow his blood and your heart, begins to pound with renewed vigor. The fog in your mind lifts, replaced with a sharp clarity, and your limbs, once heavy and weak, regain their strength.

Now able to move your instincts take over, and without hesitation, you bite into his lip, craving more—more of the intoxicating power, more of the connection. The taste of his blood, is so rich and potent, it drives you into a frenzy. You grip his neck, holding him to you tightly, your body desperate, the need to consume him swelling inside you. 

His blood is your lifeline now, and you are not ready to let go. He quickly pulls back his hand gripping your throat keeping you at bay as his voice lulls you instantly.

“You’re mine now…”he grins his voice laced with satisfaction.

You lay beneath him, utterly spent, your mind still reeling from the intensity of what just happened. And as you stare up at him, a part of you knows—he spared your life by allowing you his blood. There is no escape from this, you are his now, in every way that mattered. His favored one, his sweetest one. And there was no part of you left that wanted to resist

🎃END🎃 …*Update there will be a part 2! (Highly demanded that he hunts you on mansion grounds as an elaborate game for the celebrity vampire elite *sighs dreamily*) TBA this month.

🔗 Master List

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @lindszeppelin @abswifey @ausssbutlershortstories @magicovento @aust-een @umika @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler @faegoddessog @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @elvismylove04 @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @feralgodmothers @finley-08 @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @majestyjade @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @ifuckindontknow @kaelatargaryen @psycheetamore

[justporo]

Even more fluffy relationship headcanons for Astarion and Tav

Listen guys, I'm not done yet. For now, as soon as I get one idea out, three more pop up in my mind and since you guys seem to really like these (it's seriously and positively insane to me), I'll happily provide you more as long as I am able to. So, let's-a go: more headcanons and little ideas about them being together!

(I formerly used an reuploaded and stolen version of this gif here - I didn't check where it came from and that wasn't right - I'm sorry!)

You love when Astarion smiles at you - just openly and full of joy; the sort of smile you've rarely seen from him during your adventures but they keep getting more and more, also they make him look just so young and carefree and beautiful and your heart just... melts

When Astarion quickly notices how you basically faint whenever he does this, he starts employing it to work his charms on you when he needs it - not the real big and joyous smiles though because they are so real and cherished to him he wouldn't dare use it to tease or manipulate you - they're only reserved to make you happy

Charming you is like breathing to Astarion though, you are just so helpless against his flattery and flirting because why would you resist if you could just give him everything that makes him happy?

When you mention once though that you'd hope to gain some immunity to it some time, Astarion is insulted: "No, love, making you blush is my favourite thing in the world. You are so beautiful with your cheeks all flushed. As long as I have a say in it, we will never stop!"

Tav likes teasing him just as much as Astarion enjoys it the other the way around: "You know if you would stop drawing your brows together all the time, it'd take fifty years off your face immediately." Moments of silence in which Astarion is just utterly shocked by your burn, then: "Who taught you to be this brutal, darling?" You raise an eyebrow at him, he helplessly lifts his arms: "Yeah right, I have only myself to blame."

Also, Astarion and Tav are definitely the kind of power couple that throw each other meaningful sassy looks when they're with other people and those are talking shit or something

Also, afterwards they will most definitely discuss and gossip over everything they experienced

Astarion is definitely the kind of man that would shower Tav with gifts, from coming home with a single beautiful flower that "reminded me of you, my beautiful blossom" ("How cheesy..." "Ah, so rather a gouda next time?") or a nice bottle of wine to share to bigger gestures like jewelry or expensive dresses ("When am I ever gonna wear this, Astarion?" "I don't know, we'll just make an opportunity!")

Tav loves all of his gifts but probably the small ones or the hand-crafted ones the most, she's happy with the little things but Astarion insists she deserves the big ones just as much

One time though, Astarion comes home with something else entirely; it's pouring outside and he's completely drenched and hiding something in his doublet jacket; "What do you have there, Astarion, a wheel of cheese?" Astarion carefully opens up his jacket to reveal a small white kitten that is just as drenched as him and is desperately trying to cling to the vampire's chest. "I found her all alone in a dark alleyway, cold and completely soaked, I thought maybe we could take care of her and she could be friends with Scratch?", he says while he carefully lifts up the small ball of fluff with an incredible softness in his eyes. Your heart is thoroughly melting as you walk over to them and you give Astarion the most loving of kisses

Well, the last one would almost be a drabble on it's own, I saw a similar post that made me think of this (I will find and tag them later!) Hope you enjoyed and I'm late for work now, whoops...

This is the post I mentioned before, by @mushy6902 (I hope it's okay I wrote a somewhat similar idea, thanks for inspiring me!)

[roguishcat]

Upon reflection, I find you perfect

This is for an ask by @pebble-bb where Astarion gets to see his reflection for the first time. Absolutely lovely idea and I'm sorry it took me ages to actually post it!

@busy-baker has already posted hers because she is amazing! The writing is gorgeous, tender and beautiful! Here is the link so check it out!

This has no beta. So I apologise in advance for mistakes.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

"What have you got there, love?"

"Nothing!" you say a little too quickly and attempt to hide the package behind your back.

Astarion clicks his tongue and slips his long fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look straight at him.

"Tsk, cheeky pup. Lies don't become you. Out with it!" he says in a stern voice, but his eyes shine with mirth and his lips twist into a smile.

"What are you hiding that has you flustered such a fetching shade of red, hm?" he lifts his other hand to push your hair back and expose your neck. Soft digits touch skin, making you shiver.

"Nothing?" you try again, wriggling away from him, but you know it is futile. When one becomes the subject of a vampire's attention, one does not get away until the said vampire decides to set the victim free. And Astarion obviously has no intention of doing that.

"I see. Well, this nothing must be worth something, seeing as you are ready to risk baiting a predator to conceal it. Is it really a wise move to entice me when I'm itching for any excuse to devour you?"

As pleasant as that sounds, you have to be out of the inn and on your way. You have an appointment with an artificer that you must keep. It was difficult enough to convince him to take on the project, as he stated that he 'was an inventor and objects of petty vanity were beneath him'. It took coin, promises of securing rare materials, and some thinly veiled threats for the ingenious but somewhat mad artificer to begrudgingly agree to work on your project.

But you know what Astarion is like. You have to tell him something or he will not let you out of his sight at all.

"Fine. It’s a present for you, happy? "

You give a petulant pout which only makes his smile grow wider.

"Aren't I lucky that you want to spoil me? And my goodness, how your heart flutters!" he chuckles and places a kiss over the bitemarks on your neck. "Must be a very, very special present."

"It is, but it's not done yet. So you better not try to take a peek!" you push against his chest.

"Oh my sweet, you wound me! Are you insinuating that I will try to steal it and see what is inside?"

"Not insinuating, telling you outright that you better not go snooping through my things."

"Fine!" he sighs, pretending to be hurt by your words. "I will not go through your things. Cross my heart and hope to- well, you get it," he grins and finally moves, allowing you to get up.

You have the package in your hands and clutch it to close to your chest. You can feel ruby red eyes follow your every movement and try to ignore him as you quickly dress, keeping the present close at all times lest Astarion decides to swipe it when he thinks you are distracted.

Several hours later you find yourself stomping your way back to the inn, absolutely livid, fingers twitching as you try to contain your anger.

That ass! How in the world did Astarion manage to replace your package with a near identical one? You looked like such an idiot, standing in the middle of the forge and gawking at the unexpected contents that spilled out as soon as you unwrapped it.

Astarion gets away with a lot when it comes to you, with you having near no immunity to his charms. But not this time! You are in a terrible mood and he is going to hear all about it!

You storm into your shared room, pushing the door with too much force. It slams against the wall and bounces back with a loud protest, almost hitting you in the face.

“Astarion, you are unbelievable!" You point an accusatory finger in his general direction. "I have half a mind to-”

Then you stop abruptly as you notice shards of glass scattered about the floor, tens of your reflections frowning back at you.

“Oh yes, darling, I do apologise. I- I’m afraid I couldn’t resist,” Astarion's back is to you and he makes no move to turn around.

“What happened?” you ask softly, picking up what is left of the mirror off the floor. This clearly is no accident. It has been smashed violently and, from the looks of it, repeatedly.

“You know how it is sometimes,” Astarion says woodenly. “Butterfingers, I’m afraid.”

You take a tray off the table and put the remains of the mirror on it with shaking fingers. Distracted and barely paying attention to what you are doing, you accidentally pierce one finger with a jagged edge. Blood pebbles on skin, but you care little. The wound does not worry you as much as Astarion's lack of reaction to the smell of your blood.

Choosing to deal with one issue at a time, you set the tray aside and walk towards Astarion. His head is hanging low, silver curls somehow looking lacklustre as they hang limply over his eyes.

“My love,” you tilt his head, and although he does not resist, he keeps looking down rather than at you. “Can you please tell me what actually happened?”

Looking downcast, Astarion takes a breath he doesn’t need and swallows, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

“I didn’t believe it at first. But once I realised… ” he finally lifts his face to look at you, his expression momentarily child-like as he recalls making this wonderful discovery. "My own reflection. At first, I was elated. Drinking myself in, turning my face this way and that. But then,” his lips twist, smile turning sardonic, “I looked into my eyes and saw the eyes of a monster staring back. I guess it isn’t often one looks into a mirror and is met with an abomination.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead. You want to hug him, kiss the hurt away. But you feel that this is not the time for touch, no matter how well-intentioned and comforting.

“For years I couldn’t remember what my eyes looked like. Could hardly map out my face from touches and ministrations, through blows and cuts. But now…”

“Now?” you echo, wanting to press your face into the crook of Astarion’s neck and hold him close.

“I guess actually seeing myself as a vampire for the first time brought about the feelings of disgust and self-loathing that I thought I was getting rather good at dealing with,” he gives a little mirthless chuckle, tossing his hair back. Curls fall back into place and as Astarion's face settles into a neutral expression he might as well be a statue. Eerily still and lifeless.

You say nothing at first, letting the silence stretch and gingerly lay a hand on top of his. He does not attempt to move it away. After a while, he turns his hand palm up to interlock his fingers with yours.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” you begin cautiously. “I thought you would love it.”

You feel like crying. You should have asked. Perhaps if Astarion knew about what you have been planning, this would have gone better.

“I did, if only for a moment,” he nods. “It was perfect until it felt tainted.”

 Astarion pulls you towards him and you settle into his lap, putting your head on his chest. His hands snake round you and he hugs you close, his shoulders relaxing gradually.

“But this just makes me more determined than anything to enjoy my reflection again, once these feelings pass,” he murmurs.

You look up at your vampire, brushing an errant curl back into place with loving, gentle fingers. "I want to tell you who I see when I look at you."

"Oh, I'm well aware of what you see," he says quietly. "I've long accepted the cards fate dealt me. But it's sweet of you to try."

"Hush, you," you put your fingers on his lips. "Just let me speak."

He doesn’t try to move away or attempt to contradict you. Instead, Astarion looks at you with genuine vulnerability that he allows few to see. You want to tell him how much he makes your heart race, his nearness making you feel dizzy and overwhelmed. You want to tell him how brave, how amazing he was when facing Cazador. How you felt proud of him, honoured to be at his side as he refused to give in to temptation. But there would be other times for that.

"When I look at you, I see a hero,” you try to condense all you feel into few words. “The one we are all indebted to. Savior of Baldur's Gate."

"It does have a rather nice ring to it," he nods.

"Hm, does it not?"

“So my being celebrated is the only reason you are sticking around then?” he teases.

"Maybe in part,” you shrug, corners of your mouth twitching. “But you are so much more than that. I see my best friend, lover, confidant. Someone I can trust with my life. Someone I put my faith in-”

"Well, the jury is still out on whether trusting me is sensible."

"Don’t interrupt,” you move to nip his earlobe with blunt teeth, his mouth immediately clicking closed as he supresses a moan by burying his face in your hair. “And I see someone who trusts me in return. Even if you are very vocal about my battle plans being borderline suicidal, you still have my back."

Astarion mutters something into your hair but otherwise does not attempt to interrupt you.

"You make me laugh. You say the weirdest shit and no matter how awful I'm feeling at the time, your words take my mind off it."

You sit up and gently cup Astarion’s face. Red eyes lock with yours.

"My love, you have survived so much, you are so brave and strong. These feelings, the shadows that haunt you still... You will overcome all of it.”

Astarion does not say anything at first, then he puts his hands over yours, moving his face forward until your foreheads touch.

“I will overcome this,” he says quietly, but with determination. “We have been through so much already! Besides,” he moves his hand to wipe a tear off your cheek, “I would very much like to see us standing side by side. As equals.”

His lips quirk into a smile. It is ghost of a smile still, but it makes you release a shuddering breath of relief.

“I would love that too. More than anything,” you admit.

He kisses your temple and his eyes are drawn to the slowly bleeding cut on your finger.

“Oh dear, it seems that you injured yourself there, you sweet fool,” he admonishes you teasingly, putting your finger into his mouth and lapping at the digit.

You feel your cheeks warm. How is it that he still manages to make you blush with so little effort? It is ridiculous how much you are infatuated with this man.

"And for the record,” you clear your throat, so your voice doesn’t tremble, “I happen to like your fangs and eyes. As an elf or as a vampire, you cut a dashing figure."

Astarion smirks, ruby eyes on your face. He withdraws your finger from his mouth with a pop, giving it a kiss. “How ever did you manage to create such a mirror?”

“Well, it wasn’t actually done. Not properly,” you grumble, remember that you are meant to be annoyed at him for stealing the mirror. “Which is why I told you to stay out of my stuff!” you punch his biceps playfully. He catches your fist and gives it a nip.

“Well, as I admitted earlier, I couldn’t resist taking a peek. Not when you flushed so deliciously when I tried to get an answer from you.”

“You are incorrigible! Had you actually waited, the mirror wouldn’t be so murky and would be floor-length. I have been planning it for weeks, I have you know!”

“My, my,” he gives an amused, toothy grin, “weeks of sneaking about behind my back and I was none-the-wiser! And just when I think that I’ve learned everything about you, you turn around and surprise me with something like that. What a naughty, clever girl,” he purrs against your neck, humming in approval when he hears you gasp at the sensation.

“I believe that we might just call on that artificer after all.”

“We? Who said anything about you being invited along?”

“Hence my inviting myself along, darling. Honestly. Do keep up!” the words are punctuated with shallow nips on your neck, asking for permission.

“Fine,” you laugh, threading your fingers through silver curls. “But just a quick bite, we have to leave straight after. We might be in luck, that man is so fickle and forgetful, he probably hasn’t noticed that I was gone a while.”

You feel fangs pierce skin and then a pleasant, familiar numbness as your vampire drinks, humming in delight as your blood hits his tongue and the taste briefly overwhelms him.

"Perhaps," he resurfaces, lapping at runaway droplets, "that artificer of yours might wait a while still. Give us enough time to indulge in a quick afternoon delight even?"

"Astarion! No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

He doesn't answer this time, but you feel his palm against your side, fingers making their descent deliciously, torturously slow.

You grip them firmly, ignoring the way your heart beats wildly, which Astarion picks up on and tries to move in for a kiss. You turn your face at the last moment, his cool lips meeting your cheek.

"Tsk, you're no fun," he chuckles, moving back enough for you to scramble away.

"Because you are the designated 'fun one' in this relationship," you tug sharply at your shirt and clear your throat. "You're coming?"

"Apparently not anytime soon," he grins at your unamused look." But I will walk down to the forge with you. Since you asked so nicely."

A few weeks later in spite of some minor mishaps, your project is complete. You can scarcely believe it and hope that Astarion will not find the experience overwhelming.

And this is how you and Astarion find yourself standing hand in hand in front of the improved, bronze-backed mirror, the artificer's magic tweaking its properties and supposedly making it as good as any other mirror out there.

"Ready, my love?" you give his hand a light squeeze.

"With you by my side? Always."

And so Astarion lifts his hand and pulls the fabric off with a flourish.

"Show off," you mutter, making him grin widely as fabric flutters through the air, falls on the floor and finally stills.

You look at Astarion, watching his face closely as his eyes widen and his mouth falls open slightly. Feeling his fingers tremble, you give them a reassuring squeeze and turn away from your vampire to look at the mirror.

And there you are. Side by side. As equals. Not just lovers, but comrades-in-arms, friends. Because come hell or high water, you are there for each other.

"Oh my," you hear Astarion breathe out as he studies his face, "I can see why you can't keep your hands to yourself, my sweet! I'm simply stunning!"

"And humble, too," you tease, enjoying the way Astarion’s eyes light up in delight.

The setting sun frames Astarion's face and threads through his curls, making him shine and glow so beautifully you feel overwhelmed.

With some effort, Astarion tears his eyes away from his reflection and focuses on you.

“Thank you.”

A kiss on your temple.

“Thank you.”

Another on your cheek.

“Thank you.”

His lips find yours. The kiss is languid, unhurried, perfect.

It is a kiss that is full of hope for the future. Your shared future. The future filled with warm, golden days and cool silvery nights. The future where everything seems possible.

Tag list:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

@anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck

[mclarenviolet]

Cherry Wine

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff

WC: 500+

A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!

You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.

"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."

You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."

He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."

You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"

Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."

You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."

You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"

Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."

As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.

"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."

Your heart skips a beat as his playful façade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.

He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"

Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.

Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.

You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."

He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."

A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 2

Summary: Seeing as part one went well, I present to you the continuation but this time, from Astarion's point of view. Thank you all so much for your support. It makes me so happy to know the fandom is enjoying my work.

He honestly doesn't know what Tav wants from him or why she keeps stirring weird emotions in him and she only further confuses when she presents him with a thoughtful gift.

There will be a part 3. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.2k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Astarion never considered himself particularly lucky but he knew how to adapt to situations beyond his control – keep himself alive and everything. He’d proven himself to be talented enough to seduce well, just about anyone.

Just about anybody it would seem but not a single member of the strangest group imaginable, also known as the one he’d chosen to travel with.

Because luck would mean the most frustrating woman in the world would be the one he aimed to… shall he say, convince about the benefits of staying close to his side.

Oh, she wasn’t exactly immune to his charms. He could see the effects when he moved close to her and her lips curled into a natural smile, attention flickering to him in anticipation of what he wanted to say. She brushed against his shoulder whenever she wanted to pass and laughed at his snide remarks.

All the things that he would usually consider a success; a sign he’d managed to win her heart in some form.

But then, she also went and did the absolute opposite.

Instead of pulling him aside in the camp when he offered and allowing him to drag his lips along her throat, she dragged him into the middle of the group to socialize. She leaned into his touches and then ran off to help save another puppy or whatever else caught her attention.

It annoyed Astarion because he knew she liked him but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. They’d spent one evening together and she appeared keen on more but then rather spent her nights teaching an owlbear how to sit.

Admittedly, a very cute pastime but still.

She ran a bath for him, washed his hair, and then promptly left him alone in the water instead of joining him for some fun. If he understood, he could easily provide but she made the first part infuriatingly difficult.

“Alright,” he said after she’d caught him staring into a blank mirror and spurned agitation in him by reminding him that he didn’t, in fact, know what colour his eyes once were. “Tell me what you see when you look at me. Surely you can describe my appearance well enough.”

She giggled and put a hand to her chin, as though considering. “I think we’d be sitting here the whole night if I did that. You’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”

Pride curled hot in his chest and his irritation simmered. Amazing how easily she managed to do such a thing. “Oh? Then name your favourite.”

She reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face, freezing only when the action had already startled both of them. Astarion wondered why she stopped for only a second before he realised he’d shifted away from the touch, a movement done on instinct rather than thought.

Shit. That wasn’t going to help him.

She dropped her hand as though nothing happened. “I refuse to believe becoming a vampire changed you that much. There’s no way you weren’t this gorgeous before.”

She knew how to appeal to his vanity and the strangest thing about it was, he didn’t feel as though she did it on purpose. Her ceaseless flattery came naturally to her.

“It’s been over two hundred years since I last saw it and memories fade.”

A lie but not an important one. He remembered everything since the day he woke up in his coffin, panicked and struggling to breath though he didn’t need to. The pain of transforming, the agony of starvation, and unending confusion. Nothing slipped away and he hated it. Despised how the memories shoved their way forward.

But for now, he refused to think of them and instead waited to see what she thought of. She pressed her lips together tightly before she spoke.

“The first thing I noticed when I met you were your eyes. They’re red, obviously, but they’re also strong and piercing. You also get these crinkles beside them when you laugh.”

Again with the strangest compliments. Still, he took them in his stride this time. “That’s better. What else?”

“The way you smile. It’s dangerous and sharp but occasionally, genuine. It’s enough to charm anybody, I would say.”

He offered her a smile in response, pleased with the praise. He preened beneath her pretty words and happily took the knowledge close to heart. Meaningless flattery had always been one of his favourite things.

“Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we’ll call it a day.”

She laughed and tilted her head to the side. “You’re beautiful. I thought that much was obvious.”

But something in the way she said it ruined everything. She took the most boring compliment of the lot and meant it deeper than all the others. The teasing tone easily exposed the truth and the pride disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now was there any real reason for you to make your way over here?”

She didn’t really want anything but he’d almost expected it. Everything she found on their journey eventually got shared with him and today, she spoke about some woman’s letter she’d found. Nothing important.

Astarion thought that would be the end of it.

He continued to flatter her to make sure she always preferred him above their other companions and was rewarded when she continued to seek him out first. An entirely selfish action truly but she offered him a path forward.

The others had their strengths but something about her united them the best. If a chance existed where he could retain this ability to stand in the sun, he had no doubt she would be his best way there.

Even if she did insist on carrying about so much nonsense she found whenever they went out and helped every person with the smallest problems.

But then she found an empty book lying on the floor somewhere and she immediately began staring at him whenever it was open, scribbling away inside but always staring at him over the edges. Every time he offered her a quizzical glance, she smiled and continued with whatever she was doing.

She showed it to Wyll and Gale a few times but never brought it over for him to see.

Of course, if Astarion really wanted to, he could find what waited in those pages easily.

The parasite provided an easy path forward but she would know he wanted something when he dug around in her head. He didn’t sleep most nights but she rested deeply; deeply enough to allow a vampire to drink from her throat without even waking her like the true fool she was.

She knew, even laughed when he complimented her the next morning, but never once complained, just told him he was welcome back whenever.

Originally, he thought she may be too trusting but he learned quickly how wrong that assumption was. She didn’t believe most of the people who tried to sway her to their side; straightened her back and glared when they tried to trick her and often even stood between them and her companions.

Which meant, somehow, he’d earned her trust.

Ridiculously stupid as it was for her to trust him, he didn’t want to lose the privilege and so he left her book alone until the next time she spent too long staring over its top.

“I do hope you’re writing something fun in those pages,” he said. “If you let me read them, I’m sure we can make them happen.”

She laughed at the suggestion. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to draw you.”

He lowered his goblet a little in confusion, unsure how to respond to such a thing. “Draw me?”

“Well, you complained so much about not being able to see yourself in the mirror so I thought this would be the next best option. Come here and I’ll show you.”

She patted the spot on the ground beside her but Astarion didn’t move. Of all the things he’d expected from her, he hadn’t anticipated a recall of the strange conversation from before. Certainly not for her to have spent several days on such a thing.

“Come on,” she welcomed him. “I’m not horrible at art, I promise.”

He shook off the surprise and forced a laugh. “My apologies, I got distracted watching those adorable cheeks of yours flush. It’s absolutely delicious to see the way the sun burns your skin.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the sun,” she said. “If you’re talking about this.” She twisted a little so he could see a deeper red mark on her chest and where it curled over her shoulder. “You know the chest I kept fiddling with beneath the grove? Turns out it was trapped but don’t worry, Shadowheart promised it would fade with time.”

He honestly hadn’t been speaking of anything but he found himself annoyed at her for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Well, I suppose that’s what you must deal with when you’re obsessed with looting everything we come across.”

“It’s profitable,” she teased. “Now do you want to see what I’m drawing or not?”

He took his time to saunter over and sink into a relaxed seat beside her. The sun had begun to set and its final rays danced over her skin as she shifted closer, leg brushing against his own as she turned the pages to him.

“It’s not perfect,” she warned. “You’re not an easy person to capture on the page but it’s something.”

True to her words, the book had been filled with sketches from the front to the back. Some crude and others detailed but every single one was of him. Close ups, full bodies, and even a few in action with daggers drawn. Had she truly drawn them from memory alone?

“I keep getting frustrated when they don’t come out right,” she said. She leaned back so she was lying against the grass, attention on the sky. “I’ve asked the others but they can’t tell what I’m doing wrong either. They’re just not right.”

He turned the pages slowly, not sure how he should respond to a gift like this.

Seeing his face showed truth to her words. He hadn’t changed awfully much in these years. The great care put into this though… she’d spent ages detailing his hair on others and even put dapples of sunlight over others from when they’d been travelling through the forest.

They didn’t have many hobbies to pass the time while travelling (not unless you counted Lae’zel who appeared to be collecting more and more heads as they continued on) but this must have taken so much of her waking hours.

The emotion that crept up his throat was unwelcome and difficult to recognise. It made his unbeating heart twist uncomfortably and he immediately snapped the book shut.

She nudged him to get his attention. “Well? What do you think? We can hire a professional when we reach a bigger city but it’s a temporary solution.”

He forced the smile and it felt wrong. “I doubt even a professional will capture me right. It’s as you said, difficult to capture perfection.”

She laughed. “I’ll try again tomorrow but with our plans, I think you’re going to be in a foul mood and I don’t want to draw you when you’re sulking.”

“Me? Sulk? I couldn’t possibly imagine why when you’re making me trudge through a swamp.”

She grinned and for a second, the briefest moment, he felt something tug on his chest when he looked at her. Fondness. His panic flared immediately and he turned his gaze away, uncomfortable suddenly with the attention she lavished upon him.

Curse her and her ridiculous book. Yet another strange aspect of her life – one that tempted him to flee in the middle of the night and never return to this group and their insistence on helping people.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up the safety provided by them yet.

“I’ll be happy to take this off your hands darling,” he said to her, holding up the book. “Keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t disappear in the night.”

“You will not. It’s mine until I get at least one drawing of you right and then you can have it.”

He leaned over her, placing one hand on the ground beside her hip. “Wouldn’t you rather the real thing? We can make some references for more enticing artwork in the future.”

She stared at him, briefly frozen as he drifted a faint touch over her thigh. The flare of lust in her eyes made him comfortable again. This was something he understood. An emotion he recognised. She still wanted him; she must if she spent all this time trying to draw him.

She moved closer and her breath brushed over his cheeks, her eyes locked on his.

He waited, about to close the gap, when she suddenly kissed him on the nose, grabbed the book from his hand, and rolled away with a laugh.

Astarion was left blinking as she tucked the book into her pouch.

“I’ll let you have it when I’m done but that does sound like fun. Unfortunately, this evening though, I managed to talk Wyll into giving me some dance lessons so I’m booked. You should join if you feel up to it.”

He huffed and tried not to let the strange jealousy return as she ducked away towards the others.

Taglist: @rosenightwings , @tragicdruid , @bloopthebat , @venus-wrts

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Immortality

A random thought about immortality being viewed as a curse and blessing caused this fic to be born.

Summary: You decide to tell Astarion about your immortality (immortal!Tav x Astarion)

Immortality has always been a curse for you. Watching the ones you love grow old and die for countless years has long since taken its toll on you, and to top it all off your body refuses to die. You know there's a difference between immortality and invulnerability, but with the years comes the skill of staying alive, a skill your body has honed all too well. You're not invulnerable, but you're not easily killed either, and that hasn't been working in your favour, not when you're so tired of living.

Others never suspected a thing, not when you charged into the fray, unafraid of dying. They commend you on your valour, reward you for your bravery while you curse your inability to die. It would be easy, yes, to just roll over and die or do one of those 'self-sacrifice' ploys but something within you just refused to do so.

As time went on, you built wall after wall around you, afraid of the pain that losing loved ones brings until you no longer remember what it's like to care about someone. You're fine with it, apathy makes it easier to go through life and the years past by in a blur until one day, you're taken by mind flayers and a tadpole is inserted into your eye.

It's been a while since you escaped the mind flayer ship. You've gained companions for the journey, others who too have a tadpole in their eye and seek to be rid of it and you know they've grown closer to one another, whether they want to admit it or not. You, meanwhile, have continued to maintain your distance, quickly shutting down any talk of your past and changing the subject. The others back off easily, but not a certain vampire spawn, who insists on uncovering more about you.

"Will you quit it?" You snap, downing yet another bottle of wine.

"There's something you're not telling us, and I'd quite like to know what we're dealing with," he frowns, snatching the bottle out of your hands before you can get yourself drunker.

"Says the one who refused to tell anyone that they are a vampire," you spit back, trying and failing to grab the bottle.

"I had my reasons!"

"So do I!"

Astarion sighs, finishing the bottle of wine much to your dismay and tosses the bottle behind him. "I know that look in your eyes all too well, I've seen it many times before. You want to die, don't you?"

You freeze, gaze narrowing at the vampire. "What did you say?"

"Whatever you've been through, it makes you want to die but you can't. I…know the feeling all too well."

"Shut up." You hate how you're not immune to the vampire's charm, no matter how hard you try. You've journeyed with him, grown fond of him against all odds, and he's been chipping away at your walls. The night after the encounter with Araj had been the last straw and he had let you into his heart, displaying his vulnerability before you. In turn, you had let him in a little more, wondering if it would be alright to tell another immortal your greatest secret.

Astarion wouldn't leave you like all the other had, would he? He was immortal too, being a vampire spawn, so there wasn't the fear of losing him to old age, but there was still that fear of being left behind, left alone.

"Darling I —"

"I said, shut up!" You whirl around, spit flying from your mouth. "I don't want to talk about it, and don't presume yourself so high and mighty that you can tell me what to do!"

"I didn't tell you what to do!" He shouts back, confused at the fire your words had lit in him. "You're not the only one who wonders why they have to live a life of suffering, you're not the only one who's wondered why they continue to live while everyone else dies! So stop thinking yourself special!"

Shocked at his outburst, you take a step towards him, and then realise your hand is raised, ready to hit him. His hands are covering his face, peering at you between the gaps in fear. Quickly, you lower your hand, turning away.

"Sorry," you mumble, face turning hot from shame. You'd nearly hit him, the one you'd let into your walls, the one you'd promised to keep safe.

Astarion forces himself to take a step towards you, despite his instincts screaming at him to back away, to cower in fear, and places a shaky hand in yours.

"You should leave." Your voice is quiet, barely a whisper. "We should break up, before I hurt you further."

"You haven't hurt me, and I trust you not to." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I pushed you too far, I'm sorry."

Letting out a deep sigh, you let him continue to hold your hand and turn to face him. "Star, there's something I need to tell you. I…I'm immortal."

There. It's out now. All that's left is to see his reaction.

His silence causes your heart to plummet and you remove your hand from his, heading in the direction of the camp. You shouldn't have said anything. Of course he'd abandon you after finding out your secret, everyone else did too. Now it's just a question of when he'd betray you.

"Wait, darling!" He lurches forward, grabbing your arm before you can take another step. "I — thank you, for trusting me with this secret. Knowing, well, what you are doesn't change a thing, just like how finding out I'm a vampire spawn didn't change anything between us. It would be hypocritical of me to do otherwise."

He laughs nervously, struggling to find the right words to say. Damn his inability to say something genuine without being sarcastic.

"You…still want me? Despite this curse of immortality I have?" You ask breathlessly, confused and relieved.

"Of course! Us immortals have to stick together, you know. I — I'm relieved, honestly, to learn that you're immortal. I was worried about the lifespan difference between us but now," he laughs, "now I don't have to worry about it anymore. I'm delighted, really!"

You give him a small smile, a victory in his eyes, before gripping his hand tightly. "I'm glad you feel that way. I was afraid you'd…leave me, or worse, betray me like so many did before. To know that you're willing to remain by my side and continue whatever it is we have, I…I'm grateful."

Astarion smiles back, pulling you into a hug which you return, burying your face into his shoulder. You let your walls drop fully, just for tonight in the privacy of the moment and lay your heart bare before him. He cradles you in his arms, enveloping you in his embrace and the two of you remain like that for a while, holding each other's broken pieces together until you drift off, tired from the day's events.

"I'm never leaving your side, Y/N. I promise. I'll kill anyone who tries to betray you, anyone who dares to hurt you. I'll protect you, be there for you until you no longer see immortality as a curse, and then I'll continue to be by your side for all eternity." He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I'm yours, forever."

[thewritetofreespeech]

Astarion x Reader

words: 1.5K

rating: T

pairing: Ascended!Astarion x Tav

summary: banking off the Jealous!Tav x Astarion ask, I made one for Ascended verse as well.

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Astarion let out a deep sigh as he walked through the long corridors of his palace towards his chambers. Who knew being a Vampire Lord would be so taxing?

He thought it would be all blood, japes, and all-consuming-power when he ascended, but noooo. Apparently, all that power did not come with an instantaneous dark underground to control and city at his feet. He had to put in effort. Time. A lot of both, which somedays Astarion thought was just not worth it. But his ambitions would not let him rest on his laurels. Even if he did need a rest for the evening.

The doors let out a heavy echo as they close behind him, and Astarion sighed once more as he undid his overcoat. His attention then turned towards the bed as he saw the bedding move. “Darling?” He questioned curiously but knew it couldn’t be.

Tav was out with Shadowheart. Catching up with their dear friend while she was in the city, for reasons that were probably told to Astarion but he couldn’t be bother to remember since he wasn’t going. For once he let them go unaccompanied but was now hopeful that they came back early over missing him terribly.

“Master?” Astarion’s face paled (metaphorically, as it could not get any paler than it already was) as the sheets pulled back an a young, blonde, naked woman appeared from the covers. “I thought you’d never come back tonight.”

“What are you doing here Azura?” He hissed at his latest spawn. A silly girl who begged him for the gift, and Astarion gave it to her for no other reason than he felt his beloved needed a new chambermaid. “You dare enter my chambers, uninvited, and help yourself to my bed. Have you lost your absolute mind?!”

Astarion wasn’t exactly kind to his spawn, but he wasn’t nearly as cruel as Cazador. Which he knew was a very low bar. He gave them a fine amount of freedom to move about the castle. Updated the dorms so they weren’t as spartan as what he had been forced to endure. Almost never tortured them unless they absolutely needed to be punished. And this is how he was repaid?!

“Yes. I have lost my mind. Lost it for you, my master.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oh Gods, the idiot was in love. He recognized that soft stare and devoted posture. If her, quite literally, naked display wasn’t enough of a clue he could nearly smell the pheromones off her. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to please you.”

“You can please me by getting out.” He pointed to the door although he didn’t compel her. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he wanted to again be kind and give her the choice. Or just a sick morbid curiosity on how this would play out.

“Leave? You really don’t want me here?” She seemed surprised. Given her beauty this may have been the first time she was rejected, Astarion assumed. It always surprised him when his quarry didn’t take the bait. Perhaps this was a similar feeling for her. “You really don’t want me to stay?”

Azura pulled back the sheets to reveal that she wasn’t truly naked. Just in a thin nightgown that was so transparent it was nearly invisible. Her skin smooth. Her legs long. Her cunt neatly shaved and breast taunt & perky. She’ll lead men to this castle in droves, he thought. Unfortunately, her charms were immune to him.

“Yes. Get out. I won’t repeat myself again.”

The girl jumped off the bed and came closer. Astarion hoped it was for the door, but no such luck. His spawn leaned into him, delicate and wanting. Staring up into his eyes like a lover while he stared back at her with a stern look. “Shouldn’t a master be able to taste what’s his when he likes. Don’t you miss my blood from the first time? Tasting it on your lips?”

He wants to tell her no. That he hasn’t thought about it since that first time. Honestly, he hadn’t thought of her since that first time. But mentions of blood, and the reminder of the power he felt when he took her life and made it his own, does get his own blood to hum.

“You can have it again, if you’d like. Take all of me. A lord, a king, can take anything he wishes. I can be your obedient consort as well. Be one of your most beloved spawn.” As she spoke her body and lips moved closer to him.

“What’s going on here?”

The girl jumped back, quickly. Like she had been licked by fire. Astarion stood still. He hadn’t done anything wrong, technically, so he had no reason to be afraid. Although that cool look in Tav’s eyes was making him seriously question that decision. “I said: what’s going on here?”

“I was….I-I was just….I…”

“You were trying to take my place, eh?” Astarion chuckled at his beloved’s blunt response. Direct and to the point as always.

“Darling, as if she could.” He moved over to Tav. Separating himself completely from his spawn to sooth his consort. “This is just some misplaced adoration of a spawn and their master. Granted we’ve gone a little far…”

“It’s not misplaced! I love you!” There was a growl in Tav’s throat and Astarion huffed at the girl’s childish pleas. He really had been trying to help her here. “I would never leave you alone like they would! I would be loyal to you always! I can be twice the consort they are if you just give me a ch—"

She doesn’t get to finish asking for her chance that would never come. As her head was hanging limp to the side, nearly off her shoulders. Blood gushing from the gaping hole in her throat. Spraying across the room and down her thin negligee. Once translucent material now opaque as it was drenched in crimson. “Well…that was something.”

“It’s not funny Astarion!” Tav yelled at him. Their eyes were wild and angry as they whipped around to glare at him. A powerful shiver running up his spine in the face of that heat.

“Of course it’s funny. All this for something so trivial. As if this scrap of nothing could have replace you. My beloved, perfect consort.” Astarion came close and lifted their bloody hand to kiss it gently. “No one could, would, or ever will replace you, my love. My wicked heart is yours, for all eternity.”

“Why didn’t you tell her that then?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t think it needed to be said.” His poor dead spawn had to know she was taking a long shot when she came here. And if she didn’t then she was too dumb for Astarion to have around anyway. Still, he supposed Tav was right. He could have made more of an effort to stop her. “Still, it is rather cute that you can still get jealous over my affection. It makes me so hot. Watching you fight over me.”

He heard Tav sigh when he kissed by their ear and then jaw. Hearing them mutter, “not much of a fight” which made his cock harden in his breeches.

“Perhaps I should flirt with women and men more often.”

Astarion felt a hard jerk of his own pristine, sharp jaw away from Tav. Their nails digging into the soft skin of his cheek as they stared at them with a blazing hatred he hadn’t seen since the Elder Brain or that disgusting necromancer in the crypt. “Don’t.” A single word. Sharp. Direct.

He doesn’t like to be told ‘no’ often these days. He’s killed men for less presses against his authority. But that sharp look, one that promised his beloved would leave a trail of bodies like rose petals at his feet if he even pretended to be interested in them, made his blood boil with desire. It’s a beat in his heart that echoes his own. The agonies he would face on men who even stared at his beloved too long. Their glances were only for him. Their body was only his. Their conversations, their passions, their life, their loyalty, all of it was his. He supposed the least he could do was not pretend to be fickle with it.

“Very well, my love. I won’t. My sweet words will, as always, be for you alone. Plus, we can’t have your jealousy wreaking havoc all over the castle & city. Just think of the stains.”

He kissed Tav, to reassure them that his love was for them and them alone, picking them up and carrying them to the bed to remind them properly. As he carried them to their bed, he stepped over poor dead, double dead, Azura’s body. Already forgotten. Already not even a memory. Just a stain in the carpet that would need to be sorted out in the morning.

[alixezae]

Paring. Vampire!Reader x Demon!Sukuna

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 cw. f!reader, older sukuna ‹3 x adult reader, pet names such as ( slut, whore, princess ) demon sukuna with a breeding kink like he should

𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the demon cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

In the dark and eerie underground lair of the King of Curses, Sukuna, the air was thick with the scent of blood and decay. The demon lord's crimson eyes glowed in the darkness as he prowled the shadows, his sharp fangs bared in a devilish grin. His power was unmatched, his strength unrivaled among the cursed spirits that inhabited the realm.

But even the most powerful of demons had their weaknesses, and Sukuna's was a hunger that could never be satisfied. A hunger for power, for destruction, and most of all, for the taste of human blood. And it was this insatiable hunger that had drawn him to you, a vampire with a darkness in your own soul that matched his own.

You had come to Sukuna seeking power, seeking to learn the secrets of the cursed spirits that haunted the world. But in your arrogance, you had underestimated the demon lord's true nature. You had thought yourself immune to his charms, to his dark allure. But as Sukuna's crimson gaze fell upon you, a shiver ran down your spine, and you knew that you were in the presence of a being far more dangerous than you had ever imagined.

Sukuna's touch was like fire against your skin, his whispers in your ear like velvet caresses that sent shivers of pleasure down your spine. He called you his pet, his slut, his princess, and with each word, your resistance crumbled away like sand in a storm.

And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper under Sukuna's spell. His touch was like a drug, his presence like a fever that burned away all reason and logic. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of a knife that could cut you to shreds at any moment. But you couldn't stop yourself, couldn't turn away from the darkness that called to you like a siren's song.

One night, as the moon rose high in the sky and the world outside slept, Sukuna came to you in the darkness of your chamber. His eyes glowed with a fierce hunger, his fangs bared in a predatory grin. He pinned you against the cold stone wall, his hands rough and possessive as they roamed over your skin.

"You belong to me," he growled, his voice a low purr that sent a shiver of desire through your veins. "Body and soul, you are mine to do with as I please."

And in that moment, as Sukuna's lips descended upon yours in a fierce and possessive kiss, you knew that you were lost. Lost to the darkness, lost to the hunger that burned between you like a wildfire out of control.

It was a dangerous game that you played with the King of Curses, a game that could only end in blood and fire. But as Sukuna's hands roamed over your body, as his fangs sank deep into your flesh, you knew that you would follow him into the depths of hell itself if only to taste the ecstasy of his touch one more time.

For you were bound to him now, body and soul, in a deadly dance of desire and destruction that would consume you both in its fiery embrace. And as the darkness closed in around you, as the hunger burned hot and fierce in your veins, you knew that there was no turning back from the path that you had chosen.

You were his, and he was yours, in a deadly dance of passion and power that could only end in blood and fire. But for now, in the darkness of the night, with Sukuna's arms around you and his lips on yours, you found a kind of twisted salvation in the arms of the demon king. And as the flames of desire consumed you both, you knew that you would follow him to the very ends of the earth and beyond, if only to taste the sweet agony of his touch one more time.

Every sec, every hour, every minute you enjoyed his presence and body like no other. sure he fucked other women but god, you were divine he didn't want no one else besides you 𝝑𝑒

[mythicmanuscripts]

Okay, the person who sent the vampire ask awakened something in me, because all my faves from HOTD fit at least one trope of vampire romance/erotica.

We've already established pretty boy Aegon (as usual, love that for him).

I totally agree that Aemond fits in the vampire role (I mean, look at his aesthetic. Boy's right at home there), where he's smitten with a human and refuses to acknowledge that he was basically stalking them at the beginning, until said human calls him out and shows no fear of him, they're just pissed off. And that does it, he's down even worse than he already was.

I feel Daemon and Rhaenyra would also fit vampire roles, with Daemon being the one who turned Rhaenyra, and she took to being a vampire like a fish to water. I think they'd be the type that has several "partners" they feed from, on a somewhat regular basis, but they also enjoy "hunting" every now and again, Daemon especially. They don't kill anyone, but they do enjoy the fear they can feel from the person they're feeding from.

Then One human shows up that seems immune to both Daemon's charms, and threaths, and Rhaenyra is living for it, she's having the time of her life watching him being flustered. And that's how they end up with a regular partner, not just in the feeding sense.

And of course, our boy Jace. I just feel like he would be such a good fit for an ingenue kinda trope? Noble birth, slightly sheltered, intelligent as hell, maybe too curious for his own good. He stumbles upon a vampire feeding on someone, nearly killing them, and ends up conflicted when he finds out the person was a reprehensible sort of criminal (like, heavy shit, type of criminal). And he keeps seeking the vampire out, even after being turned away because he's a stranger at that point, they don't trust him.

But he's relentless, and gets himself into trouble, and the vampire saves him, and he's head over heels for them.

TRULY INCREDIBLE THOUGHTS HERE OH MY GOD?? Anon I love you.

I'm gonna write a little bit about each of these ideas and then we can go from there! All ideas in this AU will be tagged with 'supranational!au' so block that if you don't want to see this or search it to see everything thus far :))

-------------------------------

AEGON:

Okay I know this anon didnt even mention much about him but I must briefly discuss pretty boy Aegon!!! Pretty boy Aegon who just absolutely ADORES the vampire who fucked his brains out that one time and now he's obsessed.

Everyone else thinks you're absolutely terrifying, and for good reason, but does Aegon care? No absolutely not. In fact, he gets rid of his personal kings guard and just has you instead. The kings guard can patrol the keep and stand watch outside his quarters but none of them even get close to him anymore because he's got a vampire behind him at all times.

And just one more quick thing about Aegon: originally you don't intend to only drink from Aegon because you don't want to put that much pressure on him and risk harming him. Aegon, however, is very possessive and will be very unhappy if you feed from another.

AEMOND:

Absolutely love the idea that Aemond essentially stalked someone for a solid two weeks without even knowing. Even better if you actually knew he was following you. He's not exactly subtle about it, especially because if he's standing behind you then anyone in front of you will look utterly terrified.

The way that you interact with him without fear just gets him completely hooked and yeah you just have a vampire following you around now.

Also, I kinda love the idea that Aemond actually doesn't seem capable of being the same level dangerous and skilled when he's around you? It's like he gets your scent or your attention or lord help him your blood and he just... brain off. No more Aemond.

DAEMON AND RHAENYRA:

Okay I LOVE this idea and I can't believe I never considered this concept with them. I definitely agree Daemon would have changed Rhaenya and then hunt together regularly. They're absolutely a couple that would love to fuck whoever they're feeding from at the same time.

I think Rhaenyra would be interested in you first. She'd sport you and have a conversation with you and discover that he really likes talking to you (and complaining about every single member of her small council because of course). You only meet Daemon about a week later, maybe when Rhaenyra invites you to dinner with them. Of course she had told Daemon all about you, and Daemon was certainly excited thinking they'd get a good feed and bed partner out of this.

To Daemon's dismay and Rhaenyra's delight, you don't even react to any of Daemon's attempts at flirting and seduction. You just listen to him and smile, but don't seem flustered at all.

Originally Rhaenyra had hoped to bed you with Daemon that night, but now that she's watching how worked up Daemon is becoming and how good you are at handling him? Well she's more than happy to have a front row seat to your interactions with Daemon.

For the next 3 weeks Daemon is adamant that they will never bring you into their bed, not for sex or for a feed or for both. Rhaenyra just nods and smiles to herself becasue she knows with absolute certainty that you absolutely will end up in bed with them. If Daemon truly didnt want to fuck you then he wouldnt still be talking about you weeks later.

The very first sexual thing to happen is you and Rhaenyra fucking while Daemon can only watch. He had finally made one too many ridiculous comments and so you put him in his place.

And so, Rhaenyra gets to sleep with you and drink from you while all her husband may do is watched. Eventually when you're satisfied with Daemon's punishment, you allow him to come join you two in bed. He ends up drinking from you while Rhaenyra strokes him.

The last thing he says before he falls asleep is to mumble, "We are never letting you out of this bed"

JACAERYS:

Absolutely love the thought of Jace just sort of stumping into a vampire. Maybe he was in a dodgy part of town? Like maybe he had been dragged out by Aegon but then Aegon abandoned him and now he has no idea where he is. It's while he's wandering around trying to find his way that he finds you.

You're feeding when he sees you, and as much as you want to just ignore him, he's far too pretty and far too scared for that. I think he'd run away at first, and you cant figure out why you did this, but you run after him. And it's damn good that you did becasue you find him being cornered by some people who clearly want to mug him.

Needless to say none of them made it to first light. Once they've all been dealt with, you look at Jace and he is just in awe. You escort him back to the red keep and think that's that.

Except no of course it's not Jace is desperate to find you again, and so maybe... maybe he goes back to that very dodgy area, just wandering around on his own and trying to spot you.

[multific]

My Darling Dark

Astarion x Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Torture, blood, sad themes (with happy end)

Summary: Being born as a vampire was completely different from becoming one. You, a born trueblood vampire, fall in love with a man your father kept torturing.

When you first saw him, he was only an elf. Your father took him in with the false promise and hope of a new life. 

A better life.

But your father was a liar.

Soon, the charming man you knew was turned into a tool. A tool to gather more and more men and women.

Much like you, his life was never truly his.

Astarion Ancunin. 

You heard his name the day after the poem was scratched into his back.

A poem so cruel.

Then you heard the news that he tried to run.

He tried and failed.

He was thrown into a cell, the darkest chamber in the entire dungeon.

This is when you first spoke with him.

"We are not so different," you said as you knelt in front of him. Your heart broke seeing him like this. 

He laughed.

"Not so different? I don't see you chained to a wall! Tortured and starved."

"You might not see it, but I do have chains." your tone was even, calm.

"You are Cazador's little daughter. I highly doubt you have any chains. If anything he sent you to further torture me." his eyes were filled with anger.

"I'm simply a product of his cruelty. My mother died giving birth to me, and he took me. I'm simply one of his... poems if you will. Another proof of his cruelty." the story of your birth... filled with blood, screams and death. You doubt your mother died the way Cazarod claimed.

"Is that why you are walking around in fancy dresses? Dripped in gold and jewels?" 

"It is but the surface. He keeps me locked away at night, bound by a curse so I wouldn't leave. So that I can't leave. You must be mistaken, he doesn't love me nor does he care for me. I'm what you might call his backup plan in case he was attacked. I'm nothing but a walking immunity potion to him." 

This is when he noticed, his eyes held anger, while yours held nothing but pain.

"Why are you here?" he asked, not much calmer.

"I came in hopes of freedom, in hopes of escape from this Hell. You are the only one who dared defy him and yet you are still alive."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to kill me when the time comes. Promise me, Astarion, please. Please you must kill me and then kill him."

"How could I kill you?"

"A knife to the heart." your answer was simple, yet you failed to realise he didn't ask for the how, no, he rather refused to kill something so beautiful and kind.

The exact opposite of Cazador. 

He didn't promise, he didn't swear. But he did make a promise that night, if he was to ever escape, he would take you with him.

---

You tried to visit him often, behind your father's back you two met and talked.

Astarion was an interesting man.

You tried to visit him as often as you could.

Your father didn't exactly keep a close eye on you when he knew you couldn't leave his palace.

And he truly didn't care what you were doing.

"Today, I brought you a gift." you said as you pulled out a vile from under your dress. 

The glass, filled with blood, immediately caught his attention.

"Thank you, Darling." he said, eyes glued to the liquid.

You spend countless days trying to figure out if his kindness was simply to charm you into bringing him food and keeping him company.

You would have thought he was kind because he liked you.

But you were often reminded of the opposite every moment your father mentioned him.

Yet your heart was not easy to discourage.  

You have grown to love him during the months of conversations and stolen moments.

It finally gave you a purpose.

Something you truly didn't have before.

---

The day Astarion escaped was the day the light went out in your life. 

"You thought he loved you?" Cazador asked as he laughed at you. His dark laughter bounced off the stone walls. "Child, he is but a charmer, a tool, and a coward." you wanted to argue, you wanted to yell and scream, but instead you just turned, walked away and locked yourself into your room.

You blamed yourself.

You were a fool.

You believed his smiles and gentle touches.

You cursed yourself for it.

Yet, you still loved him. You hoped he was safe and happy.

---

Years have passed. 

A decade even and yet, you never stopped hoping he would return for you.

A fruitless dream it was.

Yet it was the only last remaining light in your otherwise dark life.

Locked away in the dark for years. Astarion is your only hope for escape, whether it is death or not.

It was when Cazador found you in the bath, bathing in blood when he smiled.

"With each passing day, you become more and more like me." he said.

And you couldn't doubt it.

You craved blood like never before, it got to a point where your father had locked you into your room because you were killing too many of his slaves.

But soon, he let you out, not even for a full day did he lock you away.

He got you new gowns, dark ones.

"For my daughter." he said. He never said that before, he called you Child, but he never looked this happy when saying it. 

Dark gowns, more and more blood.

A decade of blood had turned you into something you never wanted to be.

And yet, there you were, his daughter.

Even if you looked nothing like him.

You could recall the day you changed. The day you realized Astarion was not coming for you. The day you realized he just used you and escaped.

Was the day people started to call you the Scarlet Lady.

The brutal vampire who loved to bathe in blood and watch people suffer.

Yet, none of them knew the truth. No one knew your pain and suffering.

---

The day he came back, you could smell the blood. You heard the cries of death and then, his own cries.

Relief, freedom.

And yet, he found you locked in your room.

"My Darling Dark, what has happened to you?" you turned to the man, your face held no emotion, and yet your heart was just about ready to burst out of your chest.

"Astarion." you looked into his eyes. "Why are you here?"

You knew exactly why, he came to kill your father... possibly even you.

"I came to fulfil my promise to you, My Love."

"You do not have to fool me with your sweet words anymore. You killed my father already."

"I'm not fooling you, Darling. I came to kill him and set you free."

"You left me here. You left me to rot here alone."

"Darling, please." he sounded desperate. "I came to save you."

"I don't know if there is anything to save."

"Don't speak nonsense! You know exactly how afraid I was of Kazador. You know exactly the things he was capable of."

"I know! It is why it pains me that you left me with him!" now you raised your voice, tears began to run down your face. "I know exactly what he is capable of! He punished me for your escape! He threw me into a chamber and left me there for two whole years! He drained my blood and fed it to the spawn... And then, when he got me out of that hole, he said, 'I hope it was worth it.'" 

"I'm so sorry. I am a coward, I ran and I was too afraid to return to save you. Then I heard the news of you, people fear you, bathing in blood, murdering many."

"I was hungry." 

"I know how that feels, My Darling. I'm so sorry."

"I missed you." he took a step closer to you, as if he was testing the water to see if you would flee or not. 

You didn't. You didn't run away, instead, you moved towards him and hugged him as he hugged you back.

"I am so sorry for leaving you, but I was so scared."

"I understand although it will take some time for me to forgive you."

"Will you come with me?"

"Yes." you pulled back and looked into his eyes.

"And for now, that is more than enough for me." he placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed your hand and walked out of the palace with you, leaving behind all the bad memories, blood and pain.

From now on, it was only you and Astarion.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[jermer10]

OMG VAMPIRE READER X SUPPORT TEAM 🤭🙏🙏🙏🙏

TF2 support team with a vampire reader

gn reader | I LOVE VAMPIRES <3

includes: medic, sniper, spy

drabbles under the cut :P

Medic: - vampire hunter x vampire - medic comes from a long line of vampire hunters. what he should feel when he sees you is the seething hate of your kind being allowed to roam free under the guise of being any normal person - what he actually feels is a vile fascination towards you, something on the borders of love and science - he studies you, stalks you, charts your every move, feeding habits, who you turn, which surprisingly is no one - this comes as genuine shock to medic, knowing only that vampires seek to turn as many as they can as to kill humans off - yet you are different, you feed as much as you need, enough to make someone anemic, sure, but never to kill. never to turn. - he begins to think of you as his ultimate trophy, a gift sent by god to test him and his loyalty, to be his bride - you must had been saving yourself for someone, someone special, someone like him - and so medic made up his mind that he must have you for himself - little does he know you've had a keen eye on him as well

Sniper: - immune x vampire - you took interest in him first, looking for a feed and on the brink of starvation you come across his lone campervan and give the fly screen door a gentle and unassuming knock - when he opens you're greeted by a shotgun to the face and a man looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely pissed - "who the fuck are you?" the question was short and sweet, clearly he wasn't susceptible to being charmed - you came up with some made up story, whatever it took to get inside that camper so that you could eat - with a cautious look and a loosening of the grip on his gun, he moved aside and with a grunt of acknowledgement, he let you in - you tried to wait until he fell asleep but the man was intent on remaining wide awake, observing your every move, you were starving, your body eating away at itself every passing moment - eventually it became too much, you lunged at him, sinking your teeth into the exposed crook of his neck, attempting to draw something, anything - but there was nothing there, as if some sponge like material blocked your access to his arteries - "im immune to you cunts" he huffs before you're knocked out cold

Spy: - vampire x vampire - spy doesn't turn many people, so when he does it's an act of possession. when he decided to turn you though, it was different - he had planned to eat you from the moment he saw you, plump, ripe, and ready for picking, until you actually spoke to him - your voice drew him in, the concerned gasp that escaped your throat upon noticing how pale and gaunt he looked - the way your soft hand felt against his cool skin as you pulled him inside your apartment - the smell of your bedroom as he forced down the dinner you cooked for him, savouring the bottle of red wine you had so generously provided - he couldn't stop coming back to you, once a week he would come by, relishing in your presence, the thought of sucking your body dry only occurred to him in the ways mortal men ravage their women - and so one night he tells you everything, about how he was going to eat you, about the vampirism, about the genuine love and passion he had grown to hold for you - he extended an offer to you for you to become a vampire - and thankfully you accepted

[fettuccinealfred0]

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 3

Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 8.4k

(CW: general vampirism, period typical sexism, forced marriage)

Summary:

“How dare you?” You shoot back at him, stepping to the side to move around him. He mirrors you, stepping to the side as well, and continuing to block you. Growing frustrated with his antics, you narrow your eyes, “I have been nothing but polite and civilized since-”

“Ah yes, polite and civilized, the first two adjectives anyone would use to describe you.” Astarion interrupts. “Certainly not obstinate and combative.” 

His face is stern as he looks down at you and while the words themselves are a bit insulting, he says them with a hint of fondness that makes you think he might enjoy ‘obstinate and combative.’

Read on ao3 here

For as desperately as you tried to escape your room when you were first locked in, you spend most of your first week as Lady Ancunin holed up in your room (sans locked door). The estate was just too big and too foreign and your room felt like the only place that was exclusively yours, the only place where you could sort through all your confusing thoughts about Astarion without constant reminders of him that only served to muddle your mind further.

Early on in your life, you had decided that you would only bind yourself in marriage to someone you could love, someone who you could trust to understand you. You were unwilling to compromise your morals for just anyone- to trade the servitude of a daughter for the servitude of a wife. As skeptical and strong-willed as you may be, you were not completely immune to the charms of love. A young, romantic heart raised and nourished on happily ever afters had led you to believe that it was possible for you, too- for the idea of a life forever trapped under your father’s influence seemed unbearable. 

And at the ball, you had grown careless, had been so charmed by Astarion’s shiny veneer that you didn’t think to dig into the rot hidden underneath. No, Astarion had offered you the hope of love and laughed as he tore it away from you. 

You let yourself be mad at Astarion- he was everything you wanted, everything you could see yourself growing to love in a person. Of course his good looks and charms endeared him to you instantly, but that was all decoration which held no real substance. No, you had liked him because he had listened to you, he had respected you, and most of all, he had matched you. In a world where women were always looked down upon, you thought you had found someone who viewed you as an equal.

But, you remind yourself, a vampire could never truly view a human as an equal. There was a predatory dynamic inherent to that relationship which could never be escaped. For as much as Astarion might claim to respect you, he still sees you as something beneath him, something to be devoured. And for as much as you might have initially admired Astarion, you would never be able to forget the danger that surrounds him. 

With your trust already broken by him, you were unwilling to believe he could be entrusted with something as sacred as your life. Already, so much of your life has been controlled by men- you deserve to be in charge of your own fate for once. And hadn’t Astarion been the first to offer you that choice?

With a sigh, you force yourself to clear your mind and focus on the task at hand. Shadowheart, the miracle worker that she is, managed to convince your father to send over all of your belongings. Since the chests had arrived this morning, you were spending the day sorting through everything and organizing your books on a bookshelf that Shadowheart had somehow procured for you. 

Nestled carefully in the middle of a hollowed out book is the entire reason you had asked for your belongings- the necklace from your mother. Your idiot of a father must have been so pleased to be rid of you that he hadn’t even bothered to go through your things before he shipped them off. 

The dark green gem shines as it catches the sunlight that streams through your windows and reminds you of sunshine filtered through the canopy of the forest. As you look at the gem, you think of the happy afternoons as a young girl where your mother had taken you and your brothers out to play in the lake, how you used to chase after the older boys on your much shorter legs before they grew tired of your whining and took turns carrying you on their backs. Your mother used to tease you that you would always be chasing after your brothers, for better or worse, and your brothers had laughed at that, back before your father’s displeasure at having to raise a daughter had poisoned their minds, too.

You clasp the necklace around your neck and press your hand to where the gem sits over your heart. For a moment, you can almost feel your mother’s heartbeat alongside your own- a lovely, warm flutter deep beneath the aching of your chest.

But it feels wrong. Like some hidden weakness was on display for the world to judge. And of course Astarion would be the type to judge. Pretentious asshole.

As you glance around the room, your gaze catches on the golden wedding band that had been sitting on your bedside since you had pulled it off after the wedding. It felt too tight where it had wrapped around your finger- a noose that threatened to strangle you. But you felt too naked without it, as if this momentous upheaval in your life needed to be marked on your body by a silly gold band. 

Finally, it seems as if you have found a compromise. Carefully, you slide the green gem off the chain of the necklace and place the gemstone back inside the hollowed out book. Taking great care, you arrange the book on the shelf as inconspicuously as possible, hoping that no one else will find your little hiding spot. 

You slip the wedding ring through the necklace chain, letting the cold circle of metal settle over your heart.

—-------

It doesn’t take long for you to get bored of your room- your curiosity urging you to explore the rest of the manner and overriding the dread of running into Astarion.

You last about three hours exploring before you catch sight of Astarion walking toward you in a hallway. When you see him, you debate turning around or ducking into a room to avoid him, but he’s already locked eyes with you, grinning like a cat that just found a new mouse to play with. 

“What? No vicious insults to hurl at me this morning? I was almost looking forward to it,” he mocks as he blocks your path. 

“How dare you?” You shoot back at him, stepping to the side to move around him. He mirrors you, stepping to the side as well, and continuing to block you. Growing frustrated with his antics, you narrow your eyes, “I have been nothing but polite and civilized since-”

“Ah yes, polite and civilized, the first two adjectives anyone would use to describe you.” Astarion interrupts. “Certainly not obstinate and combative.” 

His face is stern as he looks down at you and while the words themselves are a bit insulting, he says them with a hint of fondness that makes you think he might enjoy ‘obstinate and combative.’

“Well, you’re manipulative and arrogant!” You retort, crossing your arms over your chest. Admittedly, you are maybe not making the best argument against being called combative. 

“So creative, darling. I’m sure no one else has ever dreamed of calling a vampire manipulative or arrogant,” Astarion says, arrogantly. 

There’s an excited thrum in your veins, like when you had talked and danced with him at the ball. Apparently, it didn’t matter if you were competing with Astarion to see who could charm the other better or who could insult the other better- the battle of wits set your insides aflame. 

“My lack of creativity has more to do with you being a garish caricature of your kind than any lack of vocabulary on my part.”

“Garish? That’s a new one. I’ve been accused of being many things, but my taste has never been in question before,” his voice has that low, suggestive quality and the way his eyes rake up and down your body implies that his tastes most certainly include you.

“Really?” you look around for dramatic effect, squinting to inspect the heavy curtains that block the sun, “Because I actually think what you need is some more cobwebs and skulls around here. Maybe some bats? I think that would really add to the macabre, haunted aura that an evil vampire lair needs.”

Astarion’s lip twitches up at the side, just a flash before he’s glowering down at you again, but it’s enough to know that you’d bested him. 

Current score: 0-1, in your favor. 

Except, okay, maybe Astarion did get a point because he managed to trick you into marrying him… You weren’t willing to give him more points for the whole butter knife debacle that it could probably be argued that you lost. 

So, you’re now tied at 1. That gave you plenty of time to win whatever little game it was that Astarion was insisting on playing with you.

Astarion lets out a bored sigh, as if you had been the one blocking him and wasting his time in the hallway and not the reverse. 

“As much as I would love to stand around all day and discuss your interior design visions, I have better things to do. Have a good day, dearest.”

You continue on with your exploration with a bit of a pep in your step at getting Astarion to almost crack a real smile. And when you realize that your run in with Astarion, of all people, might actually be the highlight of your day, you are plunged into a despair so great you feel as though you are drowning. How dare he be a bright spot in your life? Not when you had resolved to hate him forever. 

But, you’re determined to make the best of a bad situation- especially now that you aren’t locked in your room anymore. Astarion is still manages to leave your head and your heart spinning every time you talk to him. 

You must constantly remind yourself that his beauty is a trap- meant to take you off guard, meant for you to offer up your neck to him for a kiss, only to be surprised by the fangs that sink in instead. It is part of his game to repeat the act over and over, to charm you and beguile you as he did at the ball so that you forget the monster hiding underneath. You are not immune to this trap, but you are determined to outsmart it. Better to believe he is constantly tricking you than to foolishly succumb to his enchantments again. 

You might be a bit fuzzy on remembering all the rules about vampires, but you’re pretty sure that they’re unable to go out into the sun. And based on the thick curtains that cover the windows during the day and the time that you saw Astarion nearly run away when a stray beam of sunlight had made its way through a crack in said curtains, you’re fairly certain that bit of lore is true. 

To avoid him and the perplexing thoughts that inevitably follow interacting with him, you spend a lot of time in the gardens. It’s easier that way, separated from Astarion- where his beautiful face and sweet, insincere words can’t leave your mind spinning.

And because you’re still mad at him, some days you hope that he is able to look down on you and watch how the gentle warmth of the sun caresses your skin. You hope he’s seething with jealousy, pouting and stomping around like an angry child that the sun will get to touch you in a way he never will. 

The servants don’t really bother you in the gardens. Shadowheart does stop by every couple hours to check in on you or bring you tea or food. Gale stops by sometimes, too, for a bit of conversation. Or rather, he talks at you for a bit. He seems to really like the sound of his own voice but he’s friendly enough, so you humor him.

Your favorite companion is Gale’s cat, Tara, who likes to curl up in the sunlight next to you or press her head into your hand when she would like to be pet. 

It takes you a couple weeks to work up enough courage to finally squeak out anything more than a ‘hello’ when you pass the gardener, Halsin. At first, you were a bit scared of the giant, imposing man. But, it only took one or two short conversations before you realize that he’s a total sweetheart, incapable of insincerity or cruelty. The exact opposite of your husband. 

A part of you wishes that perhaps you were married to Halsin, a man who is filled only with kindness down to his very soul. A man who wouldn’t leave his wife doubting where she stood, doubting the truth in every word he says.

You ask Halsin to teach you how to work in the gardens and you start joining him on his tasks some mornings.

Today, the sun sits high in the sky and the ribbon of your sunhat tickles your skin where it is tied under your chin. Alongside Halsin, you work on pruning the expansive collection of rose bushes. Every color you can imagine must be present in the garden and as you admire the blush pinks, sky blues, and variegated white that leads to lavender purple, Halsin points out the varieties with the silliest names. 

“You have an uncanny talent for avoiding the thorns,” Halsin points out. His own careful hands are littered with little scratches and yours remain unmarked. 

You scoff, remembering your first conversation with Astarion. “A rather unfortunate and useless talent of mine. Around here, I find it would be more useful to be adept at avoiding a vampire’s fangs.”

Halsin gives a deep chuckle at that and damn it if his mood isn’t infectious. In seemingly no time at all, he managed to erase the scowl from your face that was brought up at the thought of Astarion and had you giggling next to him. 

“I believe we have eyes on us,” Halsin observes, an easy smile on his face as he looks up to a darkened window in the corner of the manor. 

You only spare a quick glance. The window is dark and impossible to see through, surely coated with some special paint that allows Astarion to look outside without being burnt to a crisp by the sun. Although you cannot see him, you’re sure he is watching. Halsin gives a big wave that you imagine makes Astarion fume.

“My husband,” you hiss the word, so full of vitriol and anger, “has no say over how I choose to spend my time.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s very aware that you can’t be tamed,” Halsin laughs again, deep and with his whole chest. You were jealous of how easy laughter came to him, how he was able to find joy in everything when there was this angry bubble that had been nestled in your chest for so long, ready to explode at any moment. 

“I’m sure you remind him at every opportunity. I bet he has his hands full with a wild thing like you.” Halsin continues. 

“Wild?” You ask, with faux indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m a very polite, very civilized lady.” 

“I highly doubt that many polite, civilized ladies would spend their day with their hands in the dirt,” Halsin teases, with his signature wide, friendly smile lighting up his face.

“It’s refreshing, being connected to the earth,” you drop the joking tone and speak honestly, letting your fingers brush against soft petals of the peach pink rose in front of you. 

“I think the same,” Halsin agrees, continuing to snip away at the bush next to you. 

“My father never would have approved of me doing this. It’s wonderful to finally spend my days doing the things I want to do.”

You hear your words as you say them. The realization sends you reeling that evening- that for the first time in your life, you might actually feel free. 

But no, you rationalize to yourself, it’s not because of Astarion that you’re living this life. It’s in spite of him. 

—------------

In between reading and working in the garden with Halsin, you continue to explore. 

One day, you duck into a large room at the end of the western wing, shocked to discover the portrait gallery. The room is filled with dozens of portraits that all seem just a bit too old, with nearly all the paintings dating back centuries. How long had it been since the mighty House of Ancunins had thrived?

Walking through the room, you study the Ancunins represented on the canvases, looking for any hint of resemblance to Astarion. You tell yourself this is because you are trying to determine if he’s a true ‘Ancunin’ and not simply because you cannot help but compare everything in the world to Astarion’s beauty. 

Since he was so secretive, you still hadn’t been able to discern if the rumors surrounding him were true- if he really was a bastard, or some rich man from a far off land who had bought the Ancunin name for himself, or simply the last remaining child of a dying legacy. If you could just figure out this little detail, it would do wonders to cracking the puzzle that was Astarion’s mind. 

Some of the paintings do bear a faint resemblance to Astarion in their features- high cheekbones and sharp jawlines. But you remind yourself that those are common features and not convincing enough evidence to prove any of your theories.

Toward the back of the room, there’s a large painting that has been covered and it draws your attention. After you pull the tapestry aside, you discover a portrait of a family- with wide, happy smiles on all of their faces. The overwhelming sense of love that radiates from the painting takes you off guard for a moment. You were used to the portraits in your family home- all stern, cold faces staring back at you. 

In the painting before you, the man stands tall and proud in the background, his light blonde hair curling around familiar high cheekbones. One of his hands rests on a woman’s shoulder, presumably his wife. She was stunning, perhaps the most beautiful woman you had ever seen with her long, pale hair and shimmering blue eyes that almost seemed to dance with life. 

In the middle is a son, a boy no older than seven or eight, with gentle hands from both his parents resting on his shoulders. The boy seemed to inherit the best features from both of his parents- rich blue eyes and wild, curly white hair with a cherubic smile offset by youthful, plump cheeks. 

It’s unmistakably Astarion. 

It’s strange to think of him like that- as a boy and not the monster that you were forced to marry. What possible could have happened to this happy little boy to turn him into the man you know?

It’s undeniable that Astarion is truly an Ancunin, but this revelation just leaves you with even more questions. How did he become a vampire? How long had he been a vampire? What caused him to suddenly come home and reclaim his title?

You wander around the gallery a bit more. There’s more old portraits of nobles and families, Ancunins long since deceased, but you’ve grown bored of them after your discovery of young Astarion. 

When you make your way back to the front, you find there’s also a new addition of Astarion, the version you were familiar with. He must have had it recently commissioned because the paint looks fresh, not cracked and faded by time. 

And oh, how wonderfully the artist had managed to capture him- the diligently arranged curls, the danger that simmered beneath the surface of his blood red eyes, the familiar smirk on his lips. The breath is pulled from your lungs. It was as if he was sculpted by the gods themselves as a present for humanity. Surely, this man was the universe’s magnum opus. 

As you inspect the painting, tracing the curve of Astarion’s pretty nose and the soft arch of his brow with your eyes, you recall how Astarion’s reflection had been missing in the mirror when he had pursued you the night of the ball. It dawns on you that this portrait is the only way that Astarion can see himself. The realization leaves you a profound melancholy. 

“It’s quite a remarkable likeness, isn’t it?” Gale’s voice interrupts your thoughts as he comes to stand next to you. You try to make it seem like you weren’t so obviously gawking at Astarion’s painting but, as usual, Gale is already busy talking again. “I don’t think the Lord was quite as impressed with it as we are. I believe he said that he looked too old but I think he just doesn’t know how to appreciate fine art like you and I.”

Gale’s insight is rather humorous because out of everyone here, Astarion seems like the kind of pretentious snob who would love art. 

“I can talk to him about organizing for you to have one done,” Gale offers.

“I’ve never sat for a portrait before,” you nervously admit aloud, continuing to stare ahead and trace the painted curls that frame Astarion’s portrait like a halo. 

“But your family-” Gale starts but you raise a hand to cut him off. But your family is rich and cares about status so you must have sat for a portrait at some point. Gale, like many, didn’t understand the depth of your father’s apathy toward you. 

“My father was rather eager to be rid of me. I don’t think he’d want a giant portrait to remind him of his failures in raising me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale’s mouth hanging open a bit and for the first time ever, he seems unsure how to respond. Nevertheless, he persists.  

“Well, you’ll do wonderfully. It’s just a lot of sitting around and doing nothing,” Gale takes a moment to think. “Or- er- actually you might not do very well at that. You’re the type to get restless easily.”

You laugh. “I can sit just about anywhere if I’m given a book.” 

“We can tie her down if we need to,” Astarion’s voice lilts in from over your shoulder, all deep and rich and making your bones turn mushy. 

When you turn your head, you see him casually leaning against the doorway, as if he had just happened to run across you and Gale. Based on how hard he is trying to appear nonchalant, you doubt this is the case. More likely, he overheard your and Gale’s voices from his study down the hallway and couldn’t resist injecting himself into the conversation. Nosy vampire. 

Pushing himself off the wall, Astarion comes to stand between you and Gale, who is now staring sheepishly down at his feet. There’s a sharp glint in Astarion’s eye that reminds you of a hound that’s tracking a scent. Singularly focused, solely devoted.

“And no books.” Astarion’s voice is still rich with flirtation as he reaches out a finger to trace it softly along your cheek. “The painter needs to be able to see that darling face of yours if he hopes to match even a fraction of your beauty.”

At this point, you know his words are meaningless, so why do they still leave your silly heart fluttering inside your chest?

“So, you aren’t opposed to the idea?” You ask, staring intently into Astarion’s eyes to truly gauge his reaction. He stares back, challenging you to be the one to back down first. 

“Quite the opposite. A beauty like yours should be remembered forever,” he says, with that devilish grin you’ve grown accustomed to seeing. “And think of how good we’ll look up there next to one another.”

“I heard you don’t like your portrait,” you tease.

“Alas, my beauty cannot be captured on canvas alone.” Astarion finally turns away from your gaze to look at his own portrait. He sighs, forlornly, as if his beauty is some massive gift to the world (it is). After a few seconds, he wrinkles his nose, “Besides, I look much too old. There’s no way I have that many wrinkles.”

Gale shoots you an eye roll over Astarion’s shoulder and you hold back a smile. Honestly, you had forgotten he was there- too consumed in your own little world of bergamot and flaming red eyes and Astarion.

—--------------

The next day, you ask Shadowheart how she came to work for Astarion, hoping her insight will reveal even more pieces of the puzzle that is Astarion. Today’s snooping has given you an intimate peek into his mind and that you are familiar with bookends, Astarion the boy and Astarion the vampire, you just need to discover the story in between.

“The Lord has a habit of taking in strays,” she says with a grin that tells you she knows how unsatisfied you will be with her response. Of course, her answer had to be a riddle that leaves you with more questions than answers, like everything involving Astarion. 

“Is no one here capable of giving me a straight answer?” you groan and Shadowheart laughs at you.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She playfully tugs on a strand of your hair that she’s pinning up for you. “I much prefer trying to watch you work it all out on your own.”

And even if Shadowheart won’t help you, you’re determined to figure Astarion out. And the best way to do that was to go straight to the source and investigate his study. Best case scenario, you find some secret diary that reveals all of Astarion’s secrets. Worst case scenario, you find out what kind of ink he prefers using. 

When you hear Astarion’s soft footsteps move down the hallway, you spring into action. The door to the room is locked, which you had anticipated. Earlier, you had asked Shadowheart to pin your hair up this morning especially for this purpose. After a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure the coast is still clear, you slip a pin out of your hair and insert it into the lock, wiggling it around until you feel the satisfying click of the door. 

You had only seen the room on your wedding night, when you had come to confront Astarion. It seems so much bigger without him. His presence always seems to take up so much space.

Knowing his desk will hold the most valuable information, you start there. It is filled with papers and books, but your eyes are immediately drawn to the maps. Picking one up, you feel the worn paper in your hands. The title in the top corner claims it is of the distant city, Baldur’s Gate. While you had never visited the city,, you had been raised on stories of the city as a child by your mother, who came from the Upper City to marry your father. Across the map, weird ‘X’s drawn on seemingly random locations in the city.

After you set the map back down, you pilfer through the other items on the desk, looking for some clue to decipher the markings on the maps. But, the rest of the loose pages on the desk are filled with legal jargon and cryptic notes about mysterious artifacts in looping, cursive handwriting. You should have guessed that Astarion would have beautiful, nearly calligraphic handwriting- he was meticulous about every aspect of his appearance and how others perceived him and it clearly extended to even little details like handwriting. 

Apparently, Astarion was also a secret bookworm based on the piles of books on the edge of the desk. You skim the spines of the numerous books, which range from contract law to Balduran history to famous historical artifacts. 

And underneath all the papers and books, there’s a single scrap of paper with an intricate drawing on it- a complicated series of circles and lines, with little patterns that look almost like letters, but not any that you would recognize. Captivated by the drawing, you hold it up to the candlelight, twisting and turning it in the hopes that it may decode the pattern’s secret meaning.

“What are you doing here?” Astarion asks, voice hard and tinted with anger. 

You lower the paper to reveal his face, looking at you from the opposite side of the desk. You hadn’t even noticed him enter the room- perhaps a testament to his stealth or perhaps your senses were diminished while you were distracted by the strange drawing. 

Oh, he’s mad. Almost as mad as you had seen him at the ball. His pretty brows are all pinched together and red eyes a blazing inferno.

Unsure how to explain yourself, you opt for silence. Astarion tuts in disapproval, practically ripping the drawing from your hand. As he moves to your side of the desk, he pushes you out of the way so he can sort the books back into neat little piles and tuck the papers away into the drawers of the desk. You catch sight of a leatherbound book in the top drawer before Astarion quickly locks it with a little gold key that is immediately slipped back into his pocket. 

“The door was locked,” Astarion turns around to face you, sitting back against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. 

There’s only a foot or so of space between you but it’s too much and not enough at the same time. 

“Was that supposed to stop me?” 

Your response seems to amuse Astarion, who lets out a huff of laughter before he resumes studying you with narrowed, critical eyes, “And where did a little thing like you learn how to pick locks?”

“A bored little rich girl learns to do a lot of things to fill her time,” you shoot back at him. 

“Oh, I bet you taught yourself how to do all sorts of things,” the smile he gives you is lecherous and your face heats at the implications. When you don’t rise to his taunts, Astarion rolls his eyes and drops the smile. “But sometimes, doors are locked for a reason.”

That was a low blow. You can feel your blood boiling beneath your skin. Though you had resolved yourself to hate Astarion forever, you had felt the two of you could grow to be civil with one another as of late. But, of course, he always had to nettle you and take it too far by bringing up the days he had kept you locked in your room like a prisoner. You still haven't forgiven him for that. 

“Oh, I know all about your thoughts on locked doors,” you say, hoping the Astarion can feel your angry, burning gaze like sunlight against his skin.

“Well, if you would cooperate-” Astarion starts. Like you are the issue here. 

“You mean, if I just did whatever you said regardless of my own thoughts and feelings,” you interrupt. “I will not let you break me and turn me into some little wife that obeys your every command. That is not who I am.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth again, darling.” Astarion sighs, before the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. “And I’d so rather it be occupied with something else.”

He’s deflecting, you realize. Reverting back to flirtation and sexual innuendo in an attempt to either distract you or knock you off balance. This is his way of trying to gain control of the situation again. And based on the way his hands are gripping the edge of the desk he’s leaned against, white knuckled and nearly tight enough to crush the wood, he’s barely restraining himself. 

You’ve hit a nerve. But why?

Astarion probably just didn’t like that you made a good point. Deciding to ignore Astarion’s comment, you continue on with your point. 

“And what will you do if I don’t listen to you? Torture me? Kill me?” You retort and his lips curl up, baring his fangs slightly. 

For a moment, you almost hope you’ve sent him over the edge and this time, he will rip your throat open. You would be dead, but for one glorious moment, you would feel his lips against your neck.

Or perhaps you could reach your hand out and prick the tip of your finger on his fang. Watch his pretty mouth close around your finger as he sucks at the drop of blood. No. You lock that image very far into the back of your mind. You didn’t need to be thinking silly thoughts like that. 

“At the moment, death would be preferable to this miserable existence,” you say. Which isn’t totally true. You’ve actually really enjoyed your time here so far (with the exception of being imprisoned the first couple days). But Astarion just makes you so mad and you get to a point where you can’t control your anger, where hurtful words involuntarily spill their way out of you- a wonderful trait you inherited from your father. 

“There are fates a lot worse than death,” Astarion looks unimpressed with your answer, something akin to melancholy clouding his crimson eyes.

His response surprises you, completely knocking the wind out of your sails. You’re so confused that you can’t even manage to be angry anymore. 

Fates worse than death. What could he possibly mean by that?

“Yes, and being married to you is one of them,” you hiss at him, trying to get this argument back on track. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He takes a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking in a deep breath. Gone is the confidant Astarion you are used to. The man in front of you just seems tired and deflated. 

But his words fester deep within you, sounding entirely too much like your father and the anger is bubbling in your chest again. 

“Don’t condescend to me!”

“It’s not condescension if I’m simply speaking the truth, pet,” Astarion says, looking at you as if you are an ill-behaved child. It makes you want to stomp on his foot and storm out of the room. 

“If anyone told me what was going on around here, I wouldn’t have resorted to breaking into your office in the first place! I’m the Lady of the manor, it’s disrespectful to keep things from me!”

“There is nothing going on here!” Astarion lies. He’s too quick with his response, too loud in his exclamation. You know when someone is deflecting. This argument was just going to continue to go in circles.

“I’m leaving,” you finally huff after staring Astarion down for a few seconds. You are sure to knock his shoulder with your own as you leave to let him know how displeased you are.  

As you walk back to your room, you catch yourself absent-mindedly reaching out to touch your shoulder that had brushed Astarion. Foolish girl. 

You spend the rest of your day in your room, trying to think what Astarion could be up to. It didn’t seem like he was involved in any rituals or sacrifices. Maybe shady business dealings? It’s not unheard of for nobles to be corrupt, paid off by wealthy criminals to ignore blatant lawlessness. Though, it seems weird that he cares so much about Baldur’s Gate…

“Lord Ancunin would like you to join him for dinner tonight,” Shadowheart interrupts your musings that evening when she pokes her head into your room. 

You gape at her. After your spat earlier today, you wonder if perhaps this is his attempt at extending an olive branch or if dinner was simply an opportunity to extend the argument. Either way, the thought of sitting at the table with him causes your stomach to turn. And you hate that you aren’t sure whether it turns with delight or disgust.

“I decline,” you respond, moving to close the door, but Shadowheart’s hand whips out and forces it open. She’s so strong that it won’t close, even as you push your full body against it.

“Your refusal was anticipated and won’t be accepted. I’m here to help you get dressed.” 

You know Shadowheart to be as stubborn as you and unwavering in her loyalty. While she was your lady’s maid, your friend, first and foremost, she still respected Astarion enough to listen to silly demands like this. At this point, you know her well enough to know that you’re going to end up at that dinner table no matter what you say. 

It’s fairly reminiscent of your wedding day, how Shadowheart dresses you up and has to practically drag you to your seat. 

“Wife,” Astarion greets you with a sweet, rehearsed smile. He looks stunning, his fair hair and skin practically glowing against the dark velvet of his suit coat. The rubies that serve as the buttons pale in comparison to his bright, sparkling red eyes. The thought faintly crosses your mind that Astarion is dressed in such finery as a way to impress you. 

“Husband,” you nearly snarl back at him as you sit down in the chair that’s been pulled out for you. The dinner table is outrageously long, something used for large dinner parties, and Astarion sits at the head. You’ve been guided to the seat at his right. It must be some sort of power play that he’s chosen these as your seats for the night- a subtle reminder that he’s the one in control after you had dared to defy him earlier today.

“This is ridiculous, you don’t even eat dinner!” You cry out, noticing that Astarion didn’t even bother to have a place setting laid out for himself. 

“I have plenty to drink,” Astarion points out, lifting his goblet. “It’s about spending time together as husband and wife, dearest.”

When you look down at your own place setting, you notice that the butter knife is missing. 

“Very funny,” you say, unamused by Astarion’s antics.

“Well, given your history, I thought it best for my safety to remove any potential knives from the equation tonight,” Astarion grins at you from over the top of his goblet and you can tell he’s very pleased with himself at this little stunt. 

“And I assume you mean to further disrespect me by not placing me at the other head of the table.”

“Hardly,” Astarion rolls his eyes. “I just thought it would be easier for us to talk if we weren’t shouting at each other from opposite ends of the room.”

“Perhaps I like to eat in silence,” you counter and he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Always an argument. Must it always be a fight?” He sighs, but you think you detect a hint of amusement in his voice. “Has it ever occurred to you that I am trying to make your stay here more comfortable?”

You blink at him because no, you had never considered that. That doesn’t fit the Astarion you’ve concocted in your head- the cruel vampire lord who is controlling and manipulative. 

He takes a moment to think, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he finally says, “I know that you hold no affection for me, but I hope we can at least learn to coexist with one another.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, mind still reeling from this sudden confession that has completely shifted your entire view of Astarion, yet again. First, a handsome suitor, then a heartless monster and now… some combination of the two, a beautiful monster? A heartless suitor? 

“You seem fond of the gardens,” he comments and it pulls you back to the night at the ball, when he had seen you gazing at them longingly over his shoulder while you danced.

He’s right, of course, you do love the gardens. Love checking for new blooms every day and plucking bouquets to bring up to your room. But, you hesitate to say another reason you love them is because Astarion can’t follow you out there. That there’s a false sense of freedom and safety in the light of day. A part of you is sure that Astarion already knows this. He somehow seems to know what you’re thinking before you even do. 

When you don’t speak, he continues, his eyes flashing with something akin to jealousy, “You spend a lot of time with Halsin out there. “

Something like pride or satisfaction that he’s noticed and seems to care blooms within you. Though, you do feel the need to defend Halsin, who has been the consummate gentleman and one of the few people you consider a friend here beside Shadowheart. 

And Tara, who is a cat. 

And maybe Gale… though, you’re reluctant to admit that to yourself. 

“Halsin has been nice to me. Which is more than I can say about you,” you shoot back at Astarion. 

“Am I not being nice now?” He asks in a mocky, overly astonished voice, hands spreading wide in a dramatic flourish. 

“Not at this exact moment, no.”

This back and forth feels more normal, more right. Not like the melancholy that had consumed Astarion earlier today.

No, you won’t let Astarion win this night by acting as the more mature person. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and eat a bite of the creamy soup that had been placed in front of you. Evidently, Astarion was committed to the knife bit and wasn’t planning to serve food that required you to use one. Which you do have to admit is at least marginally nicer than if he had served you with some meat that required lots of cutting. 

While you continue to eat, you debate whether you should share a piece of information with him and see how he reacts, see if he’s willing to offer up a piece of information about himself in return. Astarion is the type to use everything you say against you, so you start small.

“I’m rather fond of walking. And I’ve always loved to read outside.” You say, catching how his face softens a bit at your revelation. “Though, I haven’t found any new books here, so I’ve been stuck rereading the ones I brought with me.”

“You like to read?” Astarion smiles lightly at you and you think that perhaps he might be trying to find common ground. Based on the number of books on his desk and packed into the bookshelves in his study, Astarion seemed to be a voracious reader, like yourself. 

“Very much so,” you give him your own little smile in response. 

“What kind of books do you like?” Astarion leans his chin in his hand as he looks at you, as if you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever met.

It seems ridiculous that you should be sitting at dinner with an evil vampire lord, talking about your favorite books. You still don’t feel like you know him well enough to admit to him your penchant for romance novels- that felt like the kind of detail he would tease you mercilessly about.

“Anything,” you say. It’s too overwhelming to have all Astarion’s attention focused on you, so you give Astarion a playful smile, “Though, I haven’t ever taken a crack at those legal books you seem to love so much.”

Astarion stiffens a bit at the mention of what you saw earlier in his office, but you are ultimately rewarded for your earlier attempt at civility because Astarion tells you, “I studied law when I was in school. But that was a long time ago… I have lots of catching up to do.”

While it’s a reasonable explanation, you don’t buy it. He did seem like the type to be a haughty, arrogant lawyer or magistrate, but you certainly don’t believe that he’s reading legal books just as a means to catch up. No, Astarion only did things that served his own interests- either he was in a bad contract and wanted out or he wanted to write a confusing contract to trap someone else. 

Though his answer was vague, you do appreciate his willingness to open up to you a little bit. You’d have to keep giving bits of information about yourself to Astarion if it meant you found out more about him, in return. You spend the rest of the night asking each other questions, discovering likes and dislikes, finding things in common, and trading anecdotes. 

Or, more accurately, Astarion tells grandiose tales that you’re certain are mostly exaggerated, but every now and then he drops the hint of truth. 

And okay, yeah, some people might call that friendship- but for you, it’s a strategic interrogation of your enemy. Right?

—---------------

Early the next morning, just as the sun is beginning to rise, there’s a soft knock on your door.

You’re not sure who could be on the other side of the door. Shadowheart had already stopped by to help you dress this morning. Maybe Halsin was visiting to tell you he was going to town for the day and didn’t need help in the gardens? Or Gale had stopped by with a message from Astarion?

The last person you expected to see was Astarion himself, who seemed to be nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited for you to open the door. 

 “I wanted to catch you before you went out to the gardens for the day,” Astarion explains.

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his motives. You had just reached some sort of… compromise with him last night, would he really betray you again so swiftly? You were inclined to think yes based on previous interactions. 

“Come with me,” Astarion holds out his hand for you to take. “I have something I want to show you.”

Despite your suspicion, you take Astarion’s hand with your own and his skin where your palms touch, the normal human warmth missing. The whole thing feels strangely intimate. Astarion guides you to a wing of the manor you hadn’t yet explored and stops outside a set of twin doors. He doesn’t drop your hand as he turns to face you.

“If you’re so bored that you feel the need to break into empty rooms, I figured it’d be better to keep you busy,” Astarion says with a mischievous grin as he opens a door for you and guides you inside the room.

Inside is the largest, most extravagant library you’ve ever seen. You had feared that you’d grown used to opulence in your short time as Lady Ancunin, but you’re still stunned to silence at the sight. It would take lifetimes to read all the books in front of you. The bookshelves stretch to the ceiling and there’s even a second story beyond that. Beside you, you can feel Astarion’s eyes carefully studying your reaction as you stand with your mouth hanging open in shock.

“Last night, you mentioned that you had run out of books,” Astarion’s voice is so gentle when he speaks and your hand is holding onto his like a lifeline, as if he’s the only thing tethering you back to reality. You can feel tears brimming at the corners of your eyes.

“Thank you. I- ” you trail off, unsure of what to say. That this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you? That you’re overwhelmed by this emotion bubbling up inside you that you can’t name, or maybe are too scared of what it will mean if you do give it a name?

“I don’t even know where to start!” You say with an incredulous laugh, already overwhelmed with the prospect of finding a book in this maze.

Astarion gives a gentle tug on your hand and you follow after him to a bookshelf, where he reaches up to pluck a book off the shelf. You follow the long line of his arm as he reaches up, transfixed by the way he moves- always so graceful,  as if every motion he makes is part of some dance that only he can hear the music to. 

“Here, little flower,” he says, finally dropping your hand to pass the book to you. “One of my favorites.”

Little flower. Your heart skips happily in your chest.

And oh, he had offered up that piece of information so willingly, too. You hadn’t even had to give him anything in return except a watery smile. Surely, Astarion can hear the singing of your heart in your chest. 

“I’ll never find the right words to thank you for this gift,” you tell him. 

“Finally, then, I’ve figured out how to get you to stop talking.” Astarion teases, his hand reaching out to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. And oh, words are said with that soft smile on his face that makes you think that he means the exact opposite of what he’s saying. That suggests that maybe he likes how much you talk, how much you challenge him. 

There’s a spark of either bravery or madness inside you as you lean up to press a kiss to Astarion’s cheek. His flawless skin is soft and cold underneath your lips. 

“Thank you, husband. Truly.” 

Astute as he is, you know he will notice that this is the first time you’ve called him husband without a layer of disgust or anger twisting the word. That this is the first time you’ve used it in earnest and not as an insult meant to wound him. 

And truly, this is the first time that you could perhaps see him filling that role in your life someday. Even if whatever’s growing inside you right now doesn’t stick around, perhaps Astarion could grow to be… a friend? Perhaps this marriage truly was the first step in achieving freedom in your life, and not the prison you first saw it as. 

For the first time, you wonder if Astarion doesn’t have some evil, hidden plot like you had first assumed. Perhaps you were so hurt by his initial trickery that you have misjudged him, have mistaken his kindness for manipulation.

Because, yes, Astarion might not have been the most gracious host at first, (i.e. locking you in a room and forcing you to marry him) but maybe he simply was a lonely man who ached for company, longed for someone to understand him and see the real person beneath his carefully constructed facade. You had felt so sure you knew him down to his very core, but perhaps you didn’t really know him at all.

No. You had been wrong about Astarion. You had been beguiled by his charms at the ball and had felt betrayed when you realized that you weren’t as special to him as he was to you and you had been lashing out at him ever since. 

You aren’t sure if you can trust him yet, but maybe that will come with time.

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Notes:

Thank you all so much for all the lovely comments and likes! It's so wonderful to know people are actually enjoying this story and I'm not just sending words out into the void every week lol.

Somehow, these chapters just keep getting longer and longer… The rough draft I have for chapter 5 is already 10k words and I'm nowhere near finished. Oops! Anyway, I'm not super in love with how this chapter shaped up, but I needed to transition us from point A (enemies) to point B (friendly-ish?) while also dropping some details that help set up the larger plot for the later chapters. Stick around and next Sunday we will be back to our regularly scheduled yearning!

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading. She also posted some pretty cool art inspired by Chapter 1 of this story over on her tumlbr @vanillagorilala.

I'm also starting a taglist so please let me know if you'd like to be added to it!

Taglist: @ayselluna