#I wasn’t expecting to romance astarion

[vxlinart]

putting the “romance” in necromancer

[shadowtraveled]

me: you are all so horny for the vampire can we be normal for a second

larian studios: EXTREMELY LOUD CORRECT DING

[mistiell]

Hello!! Since your requests are open and I absolutely love the way you write him (despite there only being one—), may I request some sort of angst to fluff for Astarion with a reader that accepts his advances but doesn’t seek him out because they know that he’s only doing so for protection/convenience?

Like; yes, the reader does care deeply for him. They could even say that they love him. But they don’t want him to do anything just because he feels as if he’ll be denied kindness and sustenance if he doesn’t. So they’re very reserved and keep to themselves, treating him very kindly when he propositions them, but doesn’t do anything more than what he asks.

Omg, thank you so much!! I worried I might have portrayed him in a way that was ooc but I'm glad to see people like the way I write him!! lol WC: 1.6k

---

Astarion has manipulated and romanced countless people over the centuries. He knows what he’s doing. The routine differs depending on the person, of course, but he has it down to a science.

You shouldn’t be any different.

Since the first time you let him feed on you, it’s become a sort of routine he regrettably relies on to stay satiated. It’s been nearly a month and a half of sneaking to and from your bedroll every few nights, and he’s begun to worry that you’ll tire of it – that you’ll get sick of the fatigue and the lingering ache in your shoulder that clings to you well into the morning after.

This particular morning, he sees it in your sluggish movements and absentmindedness. Karlach has to call your name thrice before you finally turn to her with a small, “Hm?”

“Gods, has the tadpole migrated and blocked your ears?” The tiefling chuckles, cuffing you on the shoulder on the same side Astarion had fed from the night before. With a pained grunt, you wince, brow scrunching in discomfort as you roll it out a little.

Karlach gasps, “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s alright.” You smile, but when Karlach leaves, it falls as you rub at the juncture between your neck and trap muscle. If he doesn’t find a way to keep you on the hook, there’s no chance you’ll let your late night meetings continue.

So, when the two of you are sitting by the fire after setting up camp for the night, he decides to offer up the only thing he can think of to keep you interested.

“Ugh, Gods. There is nothing to do around here.” He huffs, prodding for an opening.

You snort, taking a sip out of your water skin, “You can say that again.”

There it is.

“You know,” He leans just far enough into your space to make you fluster, smirking, “We could always make our own entertainment?”

Eyes darting away from him, your throat bobs, “What do you mean?”

He leans in a little more, making sure to glance at your lips as he purrs, “I think you know what I mean, darling.”

“I think—,” Your voice cracks up an octave and you clear your throat, embarrassed. It’s rather cute, “I think I do...?”

“You think so, hm? Tell me what I mean, then.” Your mouth opens and closes a few times, and he can hear your heart beating fast against your ribs. He chuckles coyly through his nose and leans forward to brush the tip of it along the apex of your cheekbone, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper, “Might it have something to do with,” His fingertips find the top of your hand where it rests on your knee, ghosting up under your sleeve and over your wrist as he breaths, “Touching, maybe?”

A shudder runs through you as you swallow hard, “May— Maybe...,” He’s not expecting it when you pull back and look at him apprehensively, “But... I mean, are you sure?”

The question takes him aback; throws him off balance. No one’s ever bothered to ask before. It makes him wonder if he’s off his game, if perhaps his act isn’t as convincing as it normally is.

He shakes it off, grinning at you coquettishly, “Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” It’s not the first white lie he’s told you, and it certainly won’t be the last.

You wet your lips, searching his expression for any sort of hesitance. He’s careful to make sure there’s none to find. When you’re satisfied, you smile shyly, “I’d like that” “That’s what I like to hear.” He hums, standing before offering his hands, “Shall we?”

You take them, and as he leads you somewhere more secluded, he counts it as a victory.

Weeks pass, and he’s sure to propose a little fun between feedings to keep in your good graces. One thing that he’s noticed is that you never really ask him to do anything more than what he’s suggested. He expected you to come to him every once in awhile after the first time he’d bedded you, maybe ask for a piece of him when you’re bored or in need of some stress relief, but... you haven’t.

He also expected you to have at least some demands, but aside from voicing your preferences in the heat of the moment, you haven’t asked him for a damn thing. For a moment, he wonders if he’s losing his touch, but he shakes the thought off as quick as it comes. The implications of it make his stomach churn.

If not his body, what else does he have to offer?

“Astarion?” You call as you approach him where he stands near his tent.

He startles, then clears his throat to play it off. “Yes, darling?”

You smile apologetically. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, my dear.” He doesn’t understand why you’d apologize for something so small, or why it makes his undead heart twist uncomfortably in his chest, “Did you need something?”

“Come with me?” You ask, offering a hand, “I have something I’d like to show you.”

This is it. You’ve finally come to offer yourself up instead of it being the other way around.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” He hums, taking your hand and allowing you to lead him into the forest. A rather odd location to lay, but he’s definitely worked with stranger.

Weaving through trees, you lead him to a small clearing with a blanket spread out over the grass in the center. You only let go of his hand when you reach the edge of it, toeing off your boots before carefully plopping yourself down on top of it.

“So this is what you had in mind, hm?” He grins, following suit after you pat the spot next to you, “A romantic romp under the stars?”

“Oh! Uhm, no.” You titter, and he frowns.

“Then what did you have in mind, pet?” He asks, watching you twiddle your fingers.

“I-.” You huff, rubbing at your mouth and glancing away, “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and I thought we could watch it together.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, “It’s stupid. You don’t have to stay, obviously, but... I thought it could be nice.”

What the fuck.

“You... brought me all the way out here, just to watch the stars?” He asks, sounding bewildered even to his own ears.

You look back at him nervously, nodding, “I did.”

What the fuck.

He should say something, but for the first time in a long while, he’s completely lost for words. His brows draw together in confusion, and when he speaks, his voice comes out wrong; too soft, too shaky. “Why?”

You stare at him, worrying your lip for a moment before starting carefully, “You don’t need to sleep with me to buy my kindness, you know. I enjoy our nights together, of course, but I’d like you just as much without them.”

Now he’s really at a loss. His stomach lurches with the anxiety and embarrassment of being seen without meaning to be. He feels vulnerable; exposed.

“Of course I know that.” He scoffs, attempts a smug grin. His voice shakes as he says it, “What’s not to like?”

You huff a small, singular puff of laughter, “Right.”

Something flashes above, drawing both your attentions. Stars shoot across the blackened sky, streaking it with white and blue and purple. You gasp, eyes so wide, he could watch the whole spectacle through the reflection dancing over them.

You lay back, using your forearm as a pillow as you watch the sky intently. He follows soon after, a strange silence falling over the two of you.

He tries to focus on the sight above him, but your words have a hold on his mind like a vice grip. It’s been so long since anyone has shown him kindness without some sort of transaction involved. So long that he can’t even recall it ever happening.

He stares hard up at the sky, mouth twisting down in apprehension. He swallows thickly before murmuring, “Would you really?”

He sees you turn your head to look at him out of his peripherals, brows drawn together in confusion, “Would I really what?”

Embarrassment flares and writhes in his gut; his nose wrinkles at the feeling. He feels utterly ridiculous as he replies, “Still like me if I didn’t...”

He can’t find a word that sounds right. You understand anyway.

Some strange, melancholic sort of horror flashes over your face before you will it away, nodding resolutely.

“Absolutely.” You flip your hand so it lies palm up on the blanket. An invitation, not a demand, “You mean more to me than sex, Astarion. I don’t care what we do or don’t do, as long as I get to be with you. Whatever that entails.”

A lump forms in his throat and his eyes burn. He knows if he looks at you, he’s not going to be able to keep the tears at bay. He looks at your hand instead, staring for a moment before slotting his fingers between yours. Squeezing, he hopes you’ll take it as what it is, “Thank you. I don’t think I deserve this. I don’t know how to navigate this. I think I want to try.”

You squeeze back. He takes it as, “I’ll wait for you.”

[junowritings]

Could I request pre-romanced but interested Astarion (spawn), Gale, Halsin, and Rolan each reacting to Tav, in a moment of desperation, transforming into a silver dragon to save him from death. The kicker? Tav did not remember that they were a true dragon due to the tadpole wrecking their memory and is just as caught off guard by this revelation as he is.

Oh now this was too much fun to write! I ended up trying to generate a different scenario for each of them bc it was fun to imagine the context for each of them! :D

Astarion

♡ What a foolish thing; to let your guard down. Astarion knows better than most that nothing good would come of doing something so utterly stupid, no matter how safe. And yet he makes that very same pitfall after a battle with gnolls goes awry. Most of the beasts had been knocked off the nearby cliff-face, an underhanded tactic but he knew well to make use of the terrain even at the cost of any worthwhile loot. The rest had been picked off easily, and when Astarion buries his dagger into the gnoll prone beneath him the tension in the air finally seems to ease - the battle is over, for now.

♡ He’s still picking bits of viscera from his clothes, bemoaning the effort it’s going to take to pluck the gore from the decals when he spots you across the battlefield. You’re helping Karlach pry her axe free from getting a bit too gung-ho on an enemy’s skull, and he watches your face scrunch up from the effort with a snort. You catch his gaze when you look up, returning his fanged grin with an unamused huff of your own. It’s a sweet sight, even marred by blood and dirt, and Astarion makes a move to rise to his feet intending to amble over and watch you either succeed or count the axe as a loss. That was the plan-

♡ Until the carcass beneath him lurches, a screaming mass that in its death rattle bowls them both straight over the edge. And in the blink of an eye he’s in freefall, barely catching the look of horror on your face before he slips from sight.

♡ It’s nowhere near as graceful as the tales make believe. The wind bites at Astarion’s face and whips around him hard enough that his ears ring as hands try to grapple for purchase against the wall of the cliff. Nothing catches, only grabbing fistfuls of dirt and catching on rocks that crumble away beneath his fingers. No, no, no this was not how he was going to die; but there’s nothing to hold, nothing to see but the vast expanse of sky above his head as though taunting his very fate-

♡ And something else. Something large and scaled and burning silver as wings fan out enough to block out the sun as it appears practically out of thin air.

♡ A dragon. As if things couldn’t get worse?! Astarion’s cursing just about every force in the universe that he can think of as the beast plummets to close the distance. It’s there in seconds, a rippling wave of silver that swelters the very air as a taloned hand shoots out and catches him around the midsection. He expects to be eaten, maybe plucked to pieces right there and then; instead the dragon’s body rolls mid flight, curling close around the vampire spawn like a protective shield as the ground rushes to meet them. 

♡ The landing isn’t gentle, having been too close to the ground to take flight. Both hit the earth but it isn’t the fatal fall it could have been. At one point he slips from the dragon’s talons, and by the time he’s wormed his way free he’s marred by dirt and spitting leaves alongside the plethora of curses in his vocabulary. But he’s alive.

♡ He certainly wasn’t complaining about that, but his head is still spinning with the ‘why’ of it all - where had that beast come from? Why  hadn’t it killed him when it had the chance? He’s already looking for his dagger that had been lost in the fall as he scrambles to his feet, whipping around to face the dragon as he hears it stir. But he doesn’t find it. No, instead he finds-

♡ You. The last of the draconic visage crumbles like burned parchment, and you slump to your knees in the gouge your previous form had carved into the earth. Your hands tremble as you bring them up to your face, inspecting them like you’re checking that they’re truly there before your head shoots up to look at the vampire spawn you’d just saved. There’s a wild look in your eyes, confusion evident as you mirror his own slack jawed expression and trip over yourself to get back onto your feet with a scream of “What was that?!”

♡ At first he doesn’t believe your pleas of ignorance, and doesn’t get why you’re trying to protest so hard that you didn’t know. It’s not as though he hasn’t kept secrets from the group before - it’s not as though he willingly shared he was a spawn holding hands around the campfire like a jolly old fellow, did he? He’s not going to fault you for keeping your secrets so long as it’s not getting him killed. 

♡ But then he catches you pacing later that night back at camp, muttering to yourself of how you could forget and mulling over what else you’d lost with the tadpole. That kind of panic isn’t easy to fake, and you aren’t even aware of the audience to fake it. Has that tadpole altered your memories that thoroughly? A disturbing thought.

♡ Of course he’ll be the first person to encourage you to use this ‘new’ form of yours to your advantage - why wouldn’t you? It’s not everyday that someone finds out that they can turn into a hulking magical creature at the drop of a hat, so why not make the most of it? Not to mention it will be excellent for both combat and persuading anyone who makes the mistake of thinking that you’re easy prey.

♡ Of course that brings the whole other question of - why the hells did you jump after him?! Did you think your little friend in the artifact would somehow save the two of you again?! You hadn't even hesitated to reach for him; to protect him…Astarion doesn’t know whether to throttle you over your own self sacrificing logic, or kiss your damned face until any thought of risking your life like that again goes out of the window.

♡ Perhaps he’ll do both - he hasn’t decided yet.

♡ Plus, he’ll never admit it, but the camp feels a little safer knowing that it’s got a fire breathing, flying scaled powerhouse for a leader - might move his tent just a little closer to your own after that realization. 

Gale

♡ Wizards and close combat rarely mix well together. It has been somewhat of a running gag between the pair of you since the first tussle back at the grove when he nearly went sailing off the rocks he’d been casting from when a sword got far too close to his flank for his liking. You’d been there to save him, of course, biting back a teasing comment on his ‘graceful trip’ and trying not to chuckle as you’d helped the man back to his feet when it was all over. Gale naturally had been just as quick to remind you that even with his lack of tact for fisticuffs he was just as capable at keeping you as safe as you kept him. As he’d proved with a well timed magic missile not even one fight later,.

♡ The understanding was mutual - he’d protect you with all of the magic at his disposal, and you would do what you can to shield him on the battlefront. As you got closer, and the wizard got the opportunity to know you better, that protection evolved to something deeper. Something more than just having one another’s back out of necessity; the thought of any harm coming to you in the first place had been a sour notion, but now it was downright unthinkable. You took every blow meant for him without hesitation; pushed back any blade or arrow meant for him even if it led to adding a few more scars to your repertoire. And gods if you didn’t look absolutely stunning doing it.

♡ This time is no different. The sounds of battle ring in his ears, the clashing of weapons striking drowned out only by the roars of a group thrust into combat. Considering just how many unique faces make up their party (with a githyanki warrior, a renowned hero of the coast, and an excitable yet combustible tiefling - to name a few) Gale is surprised that bandits would even try their luck against this gaggle of adventurers. But where your group has skill, theirs has numbers, and this fight has been going on long enough that everyone is exhausted, frayed and running out of steam.

♡ He watches you on the other side of the battlefield, weapon clutched tightly in clenched fists and eyes burning with the fire of combat as you call out to your companions. You’re trying to pinpoint everyone's locations, caught up in the fighting as your weapon comes down on a bandit’s head. Multiple voices call out to you and Gale opens his mouth to join them, the air around crackling as he rears back to cast another spell. But the words barely get past his lips before he feels a solid blow to the back of the head and for just a second his world goes white. There’s a kick to his back and the world topples before he hands on him. 

♡There is a fist wrapped up in his hair and a blade so close to his gut to breathe is a risk. One of the bandits - how had they gotten so close without him noticing? Had he gotten complacent thinking he was safe from his vantage point? A knee digs into him and the wheeze he lets out is pained as he attempts to throw the bandit off. But Gale’s not a fighter, and it’s getting harder to think straight when another hard yank knocks his head against the ground with a harsh crack. Magic pulses at his fingertips as they rake up dirt, the words forming in his mouth hoping to get them out before that blade decides to get familiar with his insides. If only he could just-

♡ What comes next happens suddenly. A rush of air, an unrelenting wave of heat and the weight suffocating him is gone. The bandit’s body is hoisted up in a cushing jaw, only able to get out little more than a scream before they’re essentially ragdolled across the field. The threat of an imminent gutting is gone, but Gale finds himself unable to breathe once again as he realizes what exactly has descended upon him.

♡ Multiple times his size with several layers of thick silver hide, and adorned with thick leathery wings, a dragon prowls overhead. Slitted eyes scan across the battlefield, taking in the carnage and what remains of the stragglers that Gale’s companions haven’t taken down with a surprisingly clarity. It’s…looking for something? No, someone - your companions. He watches the creatures head tilt, letting out something akin to a billowing rumble before setting its sights back on the wizard still very much pinned beneath it. 

♡ The dragon’s head leans down, a huff of air feeling sweltering against his face as he comes face to snout with the creature that could easily turn him into wizard-chow with but a bite of that wall of teeth in its maw. But it doesn’t; instead it lets out another huff and there’s a ripple that seems to shake every single scale on its body before it’s shifting. It shrinks, morphs, changes into someone all too familiar as you drop down to your knees. Poor Gale almost gets a limb to the gut again as you slump down beside him, shaking off some sort of daze as you come back to your senses. It’s you - that dragon was you?

♡Gale doesn’t realize he’s shouting till he hears your own voice shouting along with him just as confused and panicked. Surely the pair of you must look like fools, unable to get out any kind of coherent word as your brains catch up to. You end up having to cover his mouth with your hand so that there’s enough quiet to actually process what has just happened, but Gale doesn’t miss how utterly lost you look about the whole ordeal - clearly this is as much news to you as it is to him.

♡ Once things have calmed down (and he’s checked to make sure he didn’t infact get punctured by a stray talon on the way down) Gale is absolutely fascinated. Nothing short of a kid in a candy store, this man is enthralled by the implications of your transformation. He knows you’re shaken of course, and he gives you time to do whatever you need to to ground yourself before he thinks to act upon any of his burning questions. He hopes to shed some light on things by working through these questions with you, hoping that they’ll spark some recollection you couldn’t remember before. 

♡ He’s tactful, tries to be subtle but you can tell that he’s clearly excited to learn about the origins of this ability. Is it related to your bloodline? Or were you perhaps cursed? Could this be some kind of advanced wildshape unbefore discovered? It doesn’t hurt you, does it? The last question gives the wizard pause, and he can’t quite relax till you assure him that the process doesn’t cause you pain.

♡ Depending on if your memories came back after your first transformation, you’ll only be able to give him so many answers. Feel free to practice your abilities around him though. At first he keeps a safe, out of the line of fire-distance, but it doesn’t take long before he inches closer until he’s close enough to run a hand along your flank if you allow him. There is an almost reverent touch alongside his curiosity as he marvels at the sight of you - breathtaking, is the only word he can find to describe it as you extend a wing for him to examine. 

Halsin

♡ Halsin has lived long enough to see many beings, experience many things. But he’s not fool enough to simply assume that he’s seen all that this world has to offer. There are still plenty of things to discover, many days and events he has yet to live amongst these new companions that have stumbled their way into the druid’s life.

♡Every moment with you has been a shining example of that fact - from the tadpole in your skull that you somehow manage to resist with each passing day, to the very way you approach the world around you. You somehow always managed to leave Halsin guessing, trying to wrap his head around the impossibility of you - regardless of you background, regardless of your creed or the life you lived before the tadpole, you remained a walking anomaly. Once which kept him on his toes, wondering what facet of you that you would reveal to him next.

♡ Of course he had done the same for you - you’d just about knocked your whole team over when he’d transformed after you’d first rescued the druid; recalled to you events and moments in his life that had anyone else told you, you would have called bullshit. It was a mutual exchange - you were open to him, and so he would do the same for you. He trusted you after all, and hoped you felt the same for him.

♡ That trust extended to the battlefield as well. Halsin’s desire to protect extended to the entirety of your party, naturally, but you were under a watchful eye with this man. Your penchant for the disregard of your own safety left much to be desired in the ways of keeping you safe; the needs of others or obtaining what you want often put above your own safety in the throes of a fight. Your habits of getting into trouble were something he grows far used to by now, so Halsin willingly takes the mantle of your protector, if only to save you from all of the scratches and scars that you’ll no doubt earn yourself down the road with your current mindset.

♡ Such as now. Within a wildshape, Halsin acts as a defensive shield for the other companions in a fight against a stray goblin raiding party. The leftover dregs of the ones from back at the temple that were set on hunting the party down long after the fall of the cultist once housed there. Teeth and claws rip and tear into goblin flesh and bone with ease, the bear acting as an utter powerhouse shrugging off each and every hit as though he was being poked with sticks and not swords. Things look to be over swiftly, as alongside the attacks of yourself and your other companions the goblin’s ranks are quickly dwindling - having either been felled by your defense or fled once they realize it was not a fight so easily won. With luck, you’ll all be back at camp before sundown.

♡ It is you who warns him that that’s not the case. He hears your voice, hears your scream of his name and Halsin cranes his head in an attempt to seek you out worried that something had happened to you when he wasn’t looking.

♡ But then a blinding light bursts against his side and he roars, loud and anguished at the sudden pain that washes over - some kind of explosive, brutal and all too effective against the druid. It’s enough for him to drop, barely still clinging to his wildshaped form as he braces against the earth in a bid to get back to his feet. What’s left of the goblins swarm, threatening to overwhelm him in his vulnerability and Halsin prepares himself for the approaching onslaught that closes in on him.

♡ Then something slams overhead, the squeals and cries of the goblins drowned out by a blinding roar that rings in the air like a toll as something impossibly large lands above Halsin and the goblins barricading them from their assault behind the wall of its body. A thick sweltering heat takes over, emanating from scales that glint like fine silver as the large body of a dragon settles overhead, and the area around them becomes alive with noise and chaos in its wake. 

♡ The very ground trembles under thick clawed footfalls - the trees groaning barely avoiding the wrath of this dragon as it rises to its full height and lunges for the attackers. The goblins never stand a chance - whichever ones weren’t smart enough to scarper before are taken out with little more than a snap of jaws and the swipe of a tail. Large claws break into the earth below, digging deep as though to ensure the dragon doesn’t move an inch from the druid’s side even as the last of the goblins are reduced to shreds. 

♡ When it is all over the creature visibly loses its hostility as it rounds once again upon Halsin. A firm nudge to his side, as gentle as a beast of this size can be and Halsin manages to push himself back to his feet, shedding the form of his barely clinging wildshape as exhaustion settles heavily upon his shoulders. By this point he knows that it means no harm, head pressed to his side until he’s firm in his stance before slinking away and circling around the druid as though appraising, checking for more damage. When none is found there’s a twitch, a shift in its tail that works its way up to its skull as though its very being is unraveling before Halsin’s eyes - and that’s exactly what happens.

♡ Scales and talons shift and rend, giving way to familiar flesh and a face the druid has all but committed to memory. This time he is the one to offer support, large hands coming up to brace upon your shoulders as you stumble over yourself looking about with a bewildered expression. “That was…what did I…?” Your words are met with a gentle assurance that that can be tackled in due time - it’s better to tackle those questions with a clearer head after nursing your injuries. And he’ll be right there will you, even guiding you back to camp till you practically insist that you’ll be fine on your own.

♡ Halsin has heard of many species and many abilities, but nothing that’s quite like a dragon shifter. At least, not one like you seem to be. You seem just as distraught by that knowledge, alongside the fact that this appears. Yet another thing that the tadpole has taken from you, if your belief to have had this ability before is true. It isn’t much different than using wildshape, as you learn once you talk through the experience with Halsin - what you were feeling before, what you were thinking. You admit that the only thing on your mind had been protecting him when you’d turned, horrified at the sight of him hurt and just out of your reach to save. The look of momentary surprise on Halsin’s face melts into something far softer at the revelation, a gentle praise at your own thoughtfulness to protect others that may leave you feeling bashful.

♡ Halsin actively encourages you to shift whenever you feel the desire to do so. Learn more about this form and what it means to you; refamiliarize yourself with a part of you that you’ve been separated from for such a time. He’ll talk you through it should you express any need for support, but he knows that you’re more than capable of controlling this aspect of yourself just as you have before. Of course he’ll also be admiring you the whole time, nothing but honest praise about the power of your form and the beauty of this other part of you.

Rolan

♡ It was a mistake to have ever come to the shadowlands - now Rolan is losing everything. Cal, Lia, his very own life; all of it is going to be snuffed out by the oppressive darkness which has defiled every inch of this place, and he’s powerless to do anything to stop it. All he had wanted to do was to make a life for his family, to make Rolan a name that they and others could be proud of. But every good deed seemed to only make things worse in the end - hells had even that one act of kindness saving those damned kids been rewarded like this? Not even his attempt to save his siblings had worked and now he was facing perishing in a land where death was never kind, as though the world was giving him one final kick when he was down to remind him of his own shortcomings. 

♡ Shadows circle in, lured in by the dwindling embers of his torch which is the only thing barely keeping him alive in this forsaken wasteland. But that is not enough; they claw at the edges of his light, ripping and tearing at the hem of his robes and grasping for his ankles, hoping to get a foothold on the tiefling long enough to drag him off into the darkness to never be seen again. Panic unfurls in his gut, burning brighter than the useless glorified stick clenched between sharp nails as he wrenches himself free of their grasp and stumbles over himself trying in vain to make some distance.

♡ He’s got minutes at the most, moments at the least; and those creatures writhing in shadow and dark have the luxury of biding their time waiting out his final seconds. He’s going to die here - without ever seeing his siblings again. What had he ever done to deserve such a cruel ending?

♡ But it doesn’t end - at least, not here.

♡ A roar breaks through the sound of his pulse pounding in his ears, and every hair on the back of his neck stands up as a chill shoots down his spine like a shot of ice. What, had some worse creature come to finish him off? As if being torn to shreds within the shadowlands wasn’t bad enough, now he’s got to contend with something bigger. And gods, is it bigger. Even through the thick smog of the shadowlands it stands out like a beacon of silver, its very scales giving off a faint glow within the darkness as though the shadows themselves are reviled by its presence alone. A feeling sinks within the pit of his chest the moment that he realizes what manner of creature is stalking towards him.  A dragon - gods, why did it have to be a dragon?!

♡ The beast is huge, a rippling wall of impenetrable flesh that cuts through the space between them in little more than a few bounds. Wings stretch wide, an impressively intimidating display as taloned hands slam down on where the shadows persist. The shadows dissipate easily beneath its claws but their shriek in indignation warbles uselessly, clearly not expecting the sudden attack in their bid for new prey. What the shadows have in number the dragon compensates for in size, easily swiping down a handful before attempting to latch onto another with its sizable maw.

♡ Rolan can’t tell if it’s doing any damage, but whatever perceived slight this dragon has on the shadows Rolan isn’t going to question. The shadows have their attention turned to the beast; if he has any intention of making it out alive he reasons he needs to get out of here now. But that’s easier said than done when one wrong move could have him meeting the business end of a stray swipe or the lingering shadow taking the opportunity to pounce. He’s going nowhere - not while the fight persists.

♡ Eventually the shadows must decide that facing a dragon isn’t worth the trouble just for making the meal out of the tiefling, and no sooner had Rolan been surrounded, the shadowy figures slink back into the deepest recesses of the darkness. A wave of relief warms his bones at the realization that they’ve slithered back to whatever domain formed them - he’s alive.

♡ But then those slitted eyes land back on him, and Rolan decides his chances may have been better dealing with those shadows. His attempts to escape are thwarted, the dragon rounding on him in a manner far slower than the frantic thrashing of before. No, it’s watching him, and the tiefling is rendered frozen at the curious way it tilts its head as though it recognizes something familiar.. 

♡ Almost jumps out of his own skin when it nudges him, a quick bump of its head that almost knocks him flat. Rolan barks out a curse, but the winged creature insists on pushing him till he finally takes the hint and moves to where it’s clearly wanting him to go. Gods, this is unnerving and he doesn’t know what it wants until the nudging finally stops and he finds himself staring down at the lump of belongings haphazardly discarded at his feet. And he tenses. 

♡ This pack - that lantern - he knows who they belong to at a glance. And no sooner has he put the pieces together that there’s a ripple of energy, a shift in the very air as the dragon before him begins to change. It molds into something else, taking on a form far more familiar - the last face he’d thought to see, but perhaps the one he should have expected.

♡ You just about keel over, clutching your knees and shaking bad enough to match his own as you let out a wheeze. You’re not worse for wear aside from the general health risks of being out in a land so tainted by dark magic, but even as you dust yourself off and look over at Rolan, you once again leave him speechless with a quick quip of “So…that was new.”

♡New? NEW?! You mean you just suddenly discovered your shifting abilities, like some twisted epiphany?! The pair of you must be a right sight, huddled around the moon lantern with him slack jawed and you looking more confused than you have any right to be after that stunt. It’s too much to process, and he’s still reeling from the near death experience and everything that has happened in such a short amount of time. Doesn’t put up nearly as much of a fight as he would have in his right mind when you urge him to go back to the inn - you’re grateful for that, or he might have insisted on coming with you even more.

♡ He doesn’t get to grill you on your abilities until everyone is finally safe. Many are enjoying what little respite they can get before they move on to the next place away from here, and he catches you finishing up your own business at the inn hoping for answers before you leave. Like Astarion, he has doubts that you didn’t know. Really? Not even an inkling to the draconic blood in your veins or where it had come from. Tries not to be frustrated at the shrug you offer in response, having to remind himself that this is a new development for you - he’s not going to pry you with questions when you’re likely still struggling to wrap your head around the prospect yourself.

♡ Once Rolan realizes what had triggered your transformation he goes uncharacteristically quiet, staring hard at your face as though trying to gauge your bluff. When he finds none his voice breaks with his gratitude, hiding the shake behind a cleared throat as he breaks eye contact suddenly struggling to meet the sincerity in your gaze. That was…perhaps he needed to rethink what exactly that - he - meant to you another time; in a place where there’s not always life or death on the line.

[hellspawn-enjoyer]

Will You Stay With Me?

Hello! I come with more angsty hellspawn fics

AO3 link for bookmarking

Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Astarion/Karlach Word Count: 1.1K Content: Angst/Hurt Comfort, First Time, Soft Intimacy, Bittersweet Romance

The night air clung warm around them, thick with the low murmur of celebration still echoing down the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Laughter spilled like wine from open tavern doors, but up here, on the balcony where Karlach leaned her elbows on the stone ledge, it felt quieter. Quieter than it had in days.

Astarion stood behind her, hands idle at his sides. He should have been able to say something witty, something charming, something light enough to match the way her laughter had danced over dinner. But the moonlight caught the edge of her smile, and it looked a little too much like goodbye.

She turned to him with a look that said don’t make this a tragedy, and offered her hand.

They didn’t speak as they walked upstairs together.

The room was dim, golden with candlelight. The bed didn’t creak when she sat down, which felt like a miracle. So much of Karlach’s life had been noise—grinding metal, ticking death, the heavy clatter of survival. This silence was a kindness.

Astarion hovered in the doorway a moment too long.

"You don’t have to," she said, voice steady, soft. Always giving him the out, even now.

"I know." His voice cracked the quiet like glass underfoot. “I want to.”

This was their first time.

There had been a time, not long ago, when Astarion couldn’t bear to be touched. Not gently, not kindly. The idea of intimacy had felt like a wound that would never close. And Karlach—gods, she never flinched. She never asked for more than he could give. She sat beside him in silence when words failed. Made him laugh when the weight in his chest got too heavy. Let him be, without expectation.

They learned how to want something more together, in small ways. Shoulder to shoulder after battle. Her hand brushing his as they walked. Quiet talks by the fire that became the best part of the day. And slowly, the space between them shrank, not from pressure, but from trust.

So tonight, when she reached for him and he didn’t pull away—when he wanted to reach back—it felt like something sacred. A threshold crossed not just with courage, but with love.

This was their first time. And maybe their only time. And that made it all the more devastating.

They undressed each other with the kind of reverence usually reserved for funerals or worship. No rush. No hungry devouring. Just the slow unraveling of armor, of walls, of fear. Astarion's hands shook once—just once—as they hovered over the curve of her back, and she didn’t flinch when he pressed his mouth to the mark where the heat of her heart still lived.

They laid together like that for a long while—touching, not claiming. Lips brushing skin like promises they couldn’t keep. The ache wasn’t in their bodies—it lived behind their ribs, heavy and bright.

The bed was warm. Their breath slow. Limbs tangled.

He should’ve been the one to keep it light. Make some biting comment about the thread count or the squeaky floorboards. But her fingers were laced with his, and he could feel how tightly she held him—as if she could will the moment to last longer.

Astarion exhaled like he’d been holding it for two hundred years.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I—Karlach, I can’t—”

Her mouth pressed to his, silencing him not with passion, but mercy.

“I know,” she breathed, against his lips. “Me neither.”

It was not the kind of night they wrote songs about. No stars crashing, no vows shouted to the gods. Just hands that knew where to go. Lips that searched, found, lingered. They moved like they were trying to memorize each other. As if the body could hold memory more sacred than the mind ever could.

He learned her by the shape of her breath, by the quiet catch of it in her throat. By the way her metal heart hummed beneath his palms, a storm behind her ribs. And she learned him in return—the places where his skin stayed tense from old habits, the softness beneath the mask. The places he still feared to be touched.

The silence between them filled with things neither dared say aloud. Futures they had imagined in the quiet corners of long nights. That scrappy, mean little goat they always joked about adopting—more bark than bleat, with a bad attitude and a fondness for headbutting Astarion’s boots. Wandering roads unknown with only the stars for maps, chasing odd jobs and forgotten ruins, her laughter echoing off canyon walls. Him tending to his daggers, watching her across campfires, blood-stained hands and a look that said he’d never tire of the sight. A life where the world was wide, and they were always together in it.

It had felt so real once.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and the breath they shared fogged the space between them. Her hand rose to his cheek, thumb brushing the sharp line of his jaw.

“You know,” she said, her voice a rasp of heat and sorrow, “this was supposed to be the part where we figure out what comes next.”

Astarion smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Next always felt like such a luxury.”

She nodded, eyes drifting shut. “Just wanted one normal night. One that wasn’t about running out of time.”

“Then let’s pretend,” he whispered. “Tonight, we have all the time in the world.”

And so they did.

The rhythm of them slowed until even the candles seemed to burn quieter. He lay half-draped across her, their bodies still slick with heat. Her pulse still thudded beneath the patchwork of her chest, steady for now. Still holding.

Astarion brushed his fingers through her hair, slower than necessary, letting the strands catch between them like fine silk. He swallowed thickly, throat too tight for words.

“If I asked you to stay,” he murmured finally, voice barely a thread, “what would you say?”

She didn’t open her eyes. “That I’d stay until the end of the world. And then some.”

The silence that followed cracked something open in him. He felt it down to the marrow—that old, aching wound of being left behind. He had spent so long surviving, clawing his way out of the dark. And just when the world had started to taste sweet again, it threatened to take her away.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, voice ragged.

“It’s not fair.”

“No,” she agreed, arms closing around him, strong and sure. “It’s not.”

They lay like that, wound around each other, hearts beating toward some inevitable silence. But tonight, it hadn’t arrived yet. Tonight, they had the candlelight, and the soft hush of skin against skin, and the sound of two people holding on.

Tonight, they had each other.

And for a little while longer, that was enough.

[astarionancuntnin]

Hello! No idea if you’re taking requests, or if they are only Astarion x f!reader, nor how dark you go.

But you think you can write a Gale x f!reader in the third person (Name is just Tav) and Gale is obsessed with having a baby that he and Tav do it every minute even when Tav is asleep?

I'll go as dark as you allow me to go bb (also thank you for your patience oh my god i swear im gonna get through all my requests eventually). fair warning that this is my first Gale fic and i haven't done his romance in game, with that being said-

Silent Night

pairing: gale x tav (fem, not decribed but its implied she looks younger than him by a few years)

rating: E

word count: 3.7k

cw: 18+. smut, mentions of pregnancy, obsessive anxious thoughts, porn with feelings, coercion, unprotected sex, drugging, somnophilia, non-con, breeding kink (and breeding), creampie, using cum as lube, cock soaking, gaslighting, this is a dark one y'all have been warned. full list on ao3.

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Ever since getting rid of the Absolute, Gale’s life had been exactly how he had pictured it, and that meant spending most of his days lavishing his wife, Tav. Not a day could go by where he and his beloved did not indulge each other. Not only did they spend every single night at it - it was every single moment they had together: out on a picnic date, while they were cooking, when they were snuggled up on the sofa reading - as if their primal urges could never be satisfied.

Especially Gale’s.

After getting married, he had made it his primary goal to make sure his wife was satisfied at all moments and Gods above did he deliver. Truth be told, his drive had only gone up since they discussed their future, and potentially having a family — a child! Gale could hardly believe it; it was one of his wildest dreams and it was now just within reach.

Growing up alone with his mother, he still struggled with the idea of being a father as he feared to not be up to everyone's expectations — moreso Tav’s — but he couldn’t deny how he hoped he could eventually get the chance to be the father he always dreamed of having. Give his mother grandchildren that she could visit, make their friends aunts and uncles, even new company for Tara; finally have a real family of his own.

They had been careful in the past, however. Tav would always drink a potion that acted as contraceptive before doing anything, and it had been Gale's greatest disappointment. Every time, he wished she'd forget or would dismiss it so he could finally have it his way with her.

Thankfully, Tav was interested in the idea, but he noticed her doubts everytime the topic was brought up.

After everything they had gone through and the uncertainty of their future because of it, she had asked for some time to think about it. Make sure they were appropriately settled in — had a house, a stable income, a place secure for a child to grow up — and yes, of course, that was reasonable, but Gale couldn’t keep his mind from picturing her, with her breasts full of milk and rubbing her belly, swollen with their child.

My, what a sight.

It was enough to get him in the mood to put a damned baby in her.

But, Gale was a patient man, he could wait. Surely, she would make up her mind and have a clearer idea soon enough. She wasn’t saying it just to waste her most fertile years away, only to watch the opportunity fly out the window, or waiting for the next best option in terms of partners. They were married, for Gods’ sake, they had vowed to stay together until death did them apart, and after what they had survived, they were assured to live until their old days; they would be together forever.

…Right?

She wouldn’t just leave him now of all time, now that they were safe and secure. She didn’t just stay out of convenience, surely not. She couldn’t have lost interest since their adventure ended and was just looking for a way out — buying her time until she could safely discard him as Mystra had done to him in the past.

Oh Gods… but what if she was?

It’s not like he was getting any younger. If anything, the stress of destroying the absolute had taken a toll on him that must’ve made him age twenty years in the few months alone it had taken them. It only struck him when he gazed upon his beloved, still the very depiction of youth, as opposed to him. She remained beautiful as time passed by and he loved to admire her, but it was a constant reminder that he wasn’t getting any younger, and the orb in his chest hadn’t helped in the matter either. Even if he figured out a way to live longer, a skill he could learn as a wizard, she wouldn't have the chance to be blessed by those same powers Gale had; he would outlive her and he would be left behind — alone.

Again.

She would have every reason to look for someone more younger, who could age with her, and less broken than he was, and the darkest parts of him couldn’t accept this reality — wouldn’t accept it.

It didn’t matter that they were married, or how many times she had reassured him, those same thoughts came back crawling like a pest.

So that night, before heading to bed, Gale prepared Tav's herbal tea as usual: with chamomile, citrus, and honey — just warm enough to be comforting — and a dose of a special potion he took care of obtaining at the market during his errands earlier, just to make sure she would sleep through the night undisturbed.

Such a good husband! The merchant had exclaimed after he had explained his wife was suffering from insomnia. Taking care of his wife and tending to her utmost care, so thoughtful!

Oh, if only they knew.

They explained in detail the exact effects of the potions, and he didn't need further convincing before dropping a pouch of coins on the table and taking off with the magic concoction.

Upon watching his wife drink the tea he had so kindly prepared, Gale could only see how right the merchant had been — Tav wasn't even halfway through her cup that her eyelids grew heavy, her head wouldn't sit straight, and her entire body screamed at her to go rest.

Gale, the caring and loving husband he is, took it upon himself to bring her to bed and lay her down comfortably, still in her night clothes, with her breathing already heavy with sleep. He pushed her hair aside, letting his knuckles brush against the supple skin of her cheek as he took in the sight of her.

His beautiful wife — almost bare as she wore a short, lilac silk nightgown, and a soft pair of lace underwear, one he would eventually remove tonight to finally take what was rightfully his.

It would be preferable if she were awake, of course, but with the way her own doubts had plagued her mind, Gale thought it fair to give her head a vacation. She could rest peacefully, and he could give her a gift she didn’t know she wanted; he would help her see reason this way and she would have no other choice but to accept it if it just happened to her.

It was for the best, for both of them — he had always been careful, always so damned careful, respecting her wishes; what about what he wanted? What about his needs?

To breed her in the dead of night, leave her with a sticky mess between her legs to wake up to, then offer her another round of morning sex to cover up the soreness he would've caused her the night prior so she could stay completely inconspicuous until her sickness shows up and her belly grows swollen with a new life and—

Oh, Gods above, no, what was he thinking?! He couldn’t do this to her — not like this; not when she was asleep, but… Hells, he couldn’t ignore the throbbing erection this vision had given him. The sheer fabric of his underwear rubbing against his cock made him groan; he wouldn't be able to let it go now… And she was right there, out cold, it’s not like she would mind it if he were to just use her a little, right?

He sighed. Fine, just a touch then, just enough to ease the ache.

He let his hand reach down and underneath his underwear, where his fingers wrapped around his length, hard and angry, and he let go of a heavy breath as he pumped himself just once. Once too many, as it only made him more desperate for what could be around his cock instead of his hand.

Just a few strokes, just enough to satisfy my needs so I can go to sleep.

His grip was strong, but he pumped himself slowly as he eyed Tav's sleeping form. His thumb moved to the head of his cock, where he found a bead of pre-come already dripping, calling out for its home that rested between his wife’s legs. He rubbed it against his tip and slid it over his shaft to lubricate himself — hoping to find some relief with his own arousal — but only found himself wishing it were from his beloved, laying right there in front of him.

Gods dammit… Fine — just a touch, then… just a little… touch…

While one hand kept stroking true, his other one found comfort in the softness of her warm breasts. Small compared to what they could be if she were carrying their child, gorged in milk, but nothing short of delicious, as he remembered their taste in his mouth, his tongue circling around her plump nipple…

Oh, the taste of her–

As she moved in her sleep, he let go, afraid that he had woken her up, only for her to have simply slightly moved her legs apart, naturally lifting her nightgown up above her thighs and allowing Gale a clear view over her beautifully wrapped entrance — all of this without him needing to even lift a finger.

He chuckled nervously, thinking only for a moment she might have been awakened by his lewd touches. Still, she remained unconscious, and he remained painfully aroused by the sight of her barely covered cunt, with her legs wide open. She was right there, ready for the picking, just for him.

Hells, why was he second guessing himself, he had already spiked her tea, it's not like she would know either way; in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Okay, okay, just a finger, just to pick up her moist and apply it over myself. That's all I need. Nothing more.

He pulled her legs together, just to slide her underwear off, only to be hit with the scent of her arousal completely coating the silk he had pulled away from her entrance.

By the Gods, my love. You're positively soaked. What have you been dreaming of, I wonder?

He brought her underwear to his nose, breathing in her aroma, and a shiver ran down his spine as he let his thoughts wander once again to his original plan. As he looked back to her, legs spread open and slit glistening wet, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind anymore; by the time he would be done with her, her womb would finally be claimed by his potent seed, and she would bear his child whether she wanted to or not.

Hells, forget the finger, I must taste you.

Letting go of his night robe and sliding down his underwear completely, he crawled over the bed and between her legs, settling comfortably with his face right besides the warmth at the apex of her thighs. He wrapped one arm around her soft thigh, while the other hand slid up to her wet slit, squeezing her puffy lips to push her juices out and admiring it drip over their bedsheets.

“Heavens above, my love,” he whispered against her cunt, his low, raspy voice carrying the lust he was done denying himself. “You look simply delicious.”

Bringing his face closer, he pulled his tongue out and pressed it flat against her entrance, swiping up along her slick ever so slowly to collect her essence. A shudder ran down his spine at her taste as he swallowed down her juices.

He murmured, against her core, “Not even the Gods could rival your taste, my heart.”

Using his thumb and finger just below her clit, he spread open her lips to expose her fully to him; pussy wet and enlarged by her arousal, almost as if she knew he was there, as if she subconsciously liked it.

Wanted it.

He breathed heavily over her slit, his mind hazy with lust as he finally dipped his tongue deeper into her folds, working his skilled tongue in and out of her. He took his time to collect her arousal in his mouth and tasted everything she had to offer him; he wanted to please her more than anything else, even as she slept through it all. His tongue circled around her clit and his mouth latched onto it to suckle, until he felt her reaching her first orgasm as she whined faintly in her sleep and her legs twitched — but she remained unconscious through it all, allowing Gale to eat and drink his fill of her.

Pulling back with his chin coated in her essence, he licked his lips with a smile. If this continued to go just as well, he would need to go back to the seller to thank them again.

Satisfied with her taste, and with his cock practically begging for her as he had smeared the bedsheets with his precome, he sat up on his knees and lifted her legs to bring them up and around his waist, then pressed his length over her cunt with a breathy sigh.

“There, there,” he purred as he rubbed his cock along her flushed and wet lips. “That’s a good girl, lying still for her husband. I just need a bit of you, love; you can rest. Just be good for me.”

If there was any doubt of her arousal, now it couldn't be ignored. Despite Gale’s assault of his mouth on her and the certitude he had drank every drop of her come as she climaxed in her sleep, a faint line of her juices dripped down from her entrance as he coated himself with her wet and stained the bed just below them.

I'll just slide the tip of my cock against her entrance, just enough to feel her— Gods, I need to feel her warmth.

No bed sheets or underwear in the way between her and him anymore, which made it all the more simple for him to align her waist with his and push her legs apart as he leaned against her with his arms on each side of her head. His length easily found its way around her warm lips, as he slid between them.

So very soaked for me, fuck— so wet and warm. Just stay like that love, your husband just needs you a little more.

Carefully moving his hips back, he pushed his tips against her entrance, and it didn’t take him long to come to a dreadful realization.

I can't wait any longer — I need this, please forgive me, Gods, I need this.

Slowly, he pushed himself all the way inside of her, and a broken gasp escaped his throat as he hit the end of her channel, filling her completely with his cock. Despite having completely sunk inside of her depths, it still wasn’t enough. He would only be satisfied when she would be filled to the brim with his seed, burst after burst of his cock spilling inside of her until she was leaking with his cum.

He picked up a rhythm — slow and careful at first — but it quickly fastened as he lost himself in the feeling of her tight walls around him, squeezing him even as she was sleeping.

“You little vixen–” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke to her as if she were conscious. “Ahhh… Just take it, take it for me. That's right, just like that… Oh, you little tease— you've wanted me to do this, haven't you? Have your husband come and fuck a baby into you as you slept? Are you truly this depraved, love? Are you this much of a whore for your lover?”

As she turned her head around and her arms moved up to touch his chest, Gale thought of the worst right away and slowed down his thrusts once more, but never stopped completely; he couldn’t find the strength within himself to stop now that he had gone this far.

He brought a hand up to softly cup her face and stroke her cheek, “Shhh, please don't make me do this, please, my love.” He whispered, pleading. “Don't fight it, just let it happen, you were doing so well.”

She whimpered, either from a nightmare or the potion wearing off, and brought her floppy arms up to weakly push against Gale's chest. Asleep or not, he couldn't allow her to try and stop him, not now. He picked her wrists and pinned her to their bed as he picked his rhythm back up, pounding into her.

“None of this now, dearest,” he growled. “Your husband is fulfilling his rightful duties to you, and I know you want this, your cunt has been begging me to put a baby inside of you for weeks now. This is for your own good; our own good— fuck—”

When her eyes began to flutter open and she mumbled his name half-asleep, he didn’t need to think twice before casting a sleep spell on her to make sure she would remain calm and docile. He wouldn’t back down now, the best he could do was minimize the damage on her.

His head fell forward, with strands of his hair falling from his messy bun to cover his face and tickle hers.

“I'm sorry my heart,” he pleaded as she slept through his assault, and he wasn't sure anymore if he tried to convince her or himself the most. “You gave me no other choice, I need to take you tonight. I need to make you mine and mine alone. It's for your own good, I promise.”

As if his words had slipped past the veil of her consciousness the moment those words left his lips, he felt her cunt clench around him.

“Oh Gods, even asleep your cunt wraps so tightly around my cock.” He moaned, biting his lips to muffle the desperate sounds fighting to leave his lips. “It's okay, you don't need to use that little head of yours, your body speaks for itself with how it's milking me.”

He wrapped her legs back around his waist and cast mage hands to keep them locked in his back. There was only one way tonight was ending, and he wasn't going to back away until his job here was done.

Despite the sleeping spell and the potion, Tav whimpered as Gale fucked into her recklessly, with a rhythm nearly desperate.

“Fuck, you moan so prettily when you take my cock, I might just burst yet—”

His thrusts started to become sloppy, losing his clean rhythm to replace it by one borderline animalistic as he pressed himself wholly against her body, her breast crushed against his chest with each push of his hips. In the dead of this warm, silent night, the only sounds keeping them company were the sloppy splashes of his hips against hers, his balls slapping against her tight little asshole, and his breathy moans that grew only louder and out of control, barely noticing just how loud he was getting.

“Please let me give you the life we deserve,” he begged, not caring for the sound of his voice anymore. “Let me breed you, bear my children, make me a father– fuck!”

His body pinned Tav down, his cock completely buried into her as he spilled himself in the depths of her womb. With his concentration faltering, she started whining through her sleep spell as if she had fought through it to wake up. With his cock still pulsing his white, hot come inside of her, he brought his lips over hers to muffle her sounds with a one sided kiss.

“Shhh, it’s okay my love, it’s over. You’re okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you. Shhhh…” Gale ushered in her ear as he kept his body pressed against hers, his breath hot against her skin, and brushed away the hair from her face. “Let’s just stay like this for a moment. I need… I need this.”

He stayed inside of her for a few long minutes, until his breath came back to him and his cock went soft inside of her, only then allowing himself to pull out and lay back next to her; it was all too soon when he lost the warmth of her walls around him, and even soft, he knew his cock was missing it's home as it rested sadly over his belly in a puddle of his cum and her essence.

Making sure to avoid any doubt from her, he got up to slip his briefs and her panties back on before sliding back into bed and pulling the covers over both of them, then turned away to pretend to be sleeping. As he finally broke the concentration on his spell, Tav slowly woke up to a sweaty, but very much seemingly asleep Gale.

She shook his arm to take him out of his daze, “Gale? Gale… wake up!”

He turned around as if just woken up, “Gods, Tav,” he mumbled, feigning his fatigue. “What time is it?”

“Did you…” Her voice is sleepy and confused. “Did you fuck me while I was asleep?”

“What?” He exclaimed, raising himself up on his elbows and rubbing his eyes. “Gods, love, who do you take me for? I would never impose myself onto you like that, you must've had a nightmare. Are you quite alright? Come here–”

He brought the back of his hand to rest over her forehead, as if to check her temperature, and pulled back with a worried look.

“Poor thing — you're burning.” He brought her head to rest over his chest as he pet her head, trying to soothe her back to sleep. “Hush now, you're safe, I've got you. Shhh… You’re okay…”

Within minutes, if not seconds later, she slipped back into a restful sleep, with her head moving to the beat of his chest rising, and Gale couldn't help but admire her, chasing away the guilt of his actions as he realized the necessity of it.

The faint light of the rising sun exposed the glistening laying between her legs and pooling over the bedsheets past her panties, and he instinctively licked his lips at the mere thought of it.

Now, there would be no doubt in their future, only a certitude swirling around in his mind.

In time, she will be the most amazing and caring mother.

He just knows it.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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[justporo]

Hi JustPoro! I wanted to share an observation with you. Maybe you can turn this into some headcanon, fanfic or just share your thoughts on it? I just started my second BG run, romancing Astarion again. I didn't really see/notice it months ago on my first run, but now it's so obvious that when Astarion is sincere he always touches his own hands and fingers, like a tell. One moment he leans forward, looks you in the eye, spreads his arms, demanding all your attention. But the next moment he looks to the side, his words become smaller, he puts his hands in front his body and starts playing with his fingers, basically shrinking back into himself, even if he still smiles. It happens a few times and it's such a heartbreaking detail. How do you think the Tav would react when they first catch on to this?

Hi Anon, thank you so much for hopping in my inbox. And oh, this is a very good observation. So I wanted to write a little drabble about it.

If you see any typos: no you don't (it's not proofread, psst)

As a former thief you knew a tell when you saw one.

Because back in your thieving days it was part of your set of skills needed to survive. You had to know when someone was trying to rip you off. 

Astarion had a tell. Quite an obvious one too.

You hadn’t fully figured out yet what it was he was lying to you about or trying to hide from you. But it was clear that something was up, something going on behind these unusual crimson eyes, whenever he started to fidget with his hands.

Admittedly, you probably had figured it out as quickly as you did because you had stared at his hands quite often. They were beautiful hands: quite big, long, elegant and immaculately cared for fingers. You had to admit you had a thing for hands; but Astarion’s especially.

You knew exactly what those hands could do: from lockpicking even the meanest locks and making it look like magic in its own respect to dramatically being flailed around to underline the point the vampire was making; to oh so easily finding this delicate spot between your legs, caressing it, toying with it, making you lose your mind - with nothing but a touch of those fingers.

But the physical intimacy you had shared didn’t mean you were on the same terms in other aspects of your relationship.

And so the first time you noticed Astarion’s small nervous habit you didn’t let it show that you had noticed. It had been a delicate subject obviously. One of those rare moments where the vampire let precious details of his past slip.

From just the few things he had shared with you, you could imagine the horrors he must have lived through.

And from the way his body gave him away, you were sure of the pain it still caused him.

It was when his shoulders fell, his whole body basically folding in on himself from his usual cocksure flamboyant posture and attitude. His ruby eyes seemed leagues and eons away, still lingering agony swimming in them.

Those were the moments where unconsciously he started to nervously play around with his hands, obviously not even noticing. Tugging on the fingers of the other hand, pressing the thumb into the palm of the other - as if trying to give himself at least a bit of reassurance or to pull himself back by the pressure applied. And then the moment quickly passed again. Hands falling to his side again.

And so you took note but remained silent.

Until this fateful night back at Moonrise towers when Astarion had made a confession to you, you hadn’t ever expected.

Immediately it had been obvious how upsetting and strenuous it must have been for him to bring himself to even bring it up with you. So much so that you were sure he must be close to ripping his own fingers off judging by the way he worked while he opened up about his feelings for you.

So if this wasn’t the moment which would it ever be? As Astarion kept speaking you stepped closer, his eyes immediately growing big and round. So obviously afraid. Not of but of what he feared was about to happen. His words died on his lips as the vampire could only stand and watch, positively becoming a statue. His hands froze in position in front of his chest.

That’s where you gently grabbed them from with your own. He let you. Too shocked to react in any other kind of way.

“Did you notice,” you began as you started to gently massage them “that you tug on your hands when you’re upset or nervous or…” You blushed a little as you didn’t manage to finish your question, letting your gaze drop from his to where his hands were mingled with yours.

“I do?” Astarion replied bewildered, fully thrown off his groove and what he had planned to say.

You nodded, still not able to look up at him again, but kept softly soothing his fingers.

Silence fell between you as you kept going, feeling how your warmth spread to him.

After a long while you found the courage to look Astarion in the eyes again. He seemed transformed. A gentle smile was tugging on his lips, eyes full of warmth and kindness. None of that fearful behaviour that made him sink into himself but also none of the cocky performance he so often put on.

Instead, Astarion seemed genuine. Probably more so than you had seen him be this far.

And when he finally continued his speech, you felt more of that. All while you kept holding onto his hands. And - as you felt by the end of it - as he was holding onto yours.

Later, you of course still noticed those moments when Astarion nervously toyed around with his hands. But now you had no good reason to not go and do something about it.

So, whenever you noticed it happening you softly grabbed his hands, untangled his fingers and wrapped them with yours. Or pressed your palm against his. Or kissed his fingers one by one. Until the moment had passed.

And later still, when Astarion had started to learn to rely on you, you found he sometimes came to you, grabbing your hands for a bit of support. You squeezed his in reassurement and let your thumb wander over the back of his hand in these moments - until he squeezed back. A silent thank you, you’ve come to know.

[roguishcat]

Brunch

Summary: Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Humour/Friendship/Romance

Tags: AU, Modern times, Elf Astarion, No Cazador, Mature Language, Suggestive Themes, Jealous Astarion, Astarion is bad at feelings

Two-shot: Part 1 - 5k words

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will be rated E, so MDNI please)

A/N: This does not have a beta. So if you notice any mistakes, please let me know! 💖 Comments are always appreciated!

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tav stumbled gracelessly into the café, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“Quite alright, darling. I have already ordered,” Astarion replied, his eyes sweeping over her in appreciation.

Tav, being herself, misjudged his look and self-consciously pulled on the front of her dress, unsuccessfully trying to get it to unstick from her clammy skin. Everyone was suffering from the heatwave, and they looked it, except Astarion, of course. He, unlike Tav, looked as cool as a freaking cucumber. Silver curls falling just so, his white shirt fresh, sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms.

“I’m just going to go and splash some water on my face, it’s boiling hot outside today. I don’t know how you can bear it. Here, hold my bag.”

She thrust her tote into his hands and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. Astarion wasted no time in rummaging through it because really, what else did she expect? If she didn’t want him to snoop, she shouldn’t have handed him her things and allowed for him to have ample time alone with said things.

Tav was quick to come back, she didn’t even bother taking her bag back from him when she sat down. Sweet, trusting thing that she was.

“How you’ve been?” she asked and reached for her glass of water.

“Good. Won the case, quite predictably. The other guy’s lawyer was completely out of his depth.”

Astarion didn’t even look up from his phone as he said that. Tav wasn’t even annoyed. He’s been like this as long as she’s known him. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be disinterested and careless, but actually Astarion noticed much more about others than he ever let on and could even be quite sweet, on a very, very rare occasion.

She was glad that their friendship survived over the years, even if they only met up for brunch once a month. She would like to see more of him, but with how busy Astarion was, it was frankly quite a miracle that he had deemed her important enough to meet up with any regularity.

Astarion and brunch, who would have thought that he would even entertain the thought of something so mundane?

When Tav first met Astarion all those years ago, they were all dirt-poor students, roommates trying to get by. Actually, she was still eyeballs-deep in student debt, unlike Mr. Big Shot lawyer, who was doing very well for himself evidentially.  

“How about you, dearest? Anything exciting happen lately?” Astarion questioned.

Tav knew what he was alluding to and was quite prepared to lie through her teeth. Because her latest attempt at a relationship was not going well, but she would never admit it to Astarion. She didn’t need his ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk.

“Good, good.”

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes at her woefully inadequate attempt at lying. And to him, out of all people. He did not buy it. Because he knew exactly what Tav looked like when she was actually excited about someone.

“Thought as much. That’s why I went ahead and dumped him for you.”

“Excuse me?!”

She noticed that the phone in his hands was not actually his.

“You cheeky bugger, I can’t believe you swiped my phone and managed to unlock it! And who gave you the right to end my relationship, hm?”

“Tav, two pity fucks because for some reason you were feeling charitable do not count as a relationship. I did you a favour.”

“You’re the one to talk. You’ve slept with tons of people for much less than puppy dog eyes!” she shot back.

“If you are referring to the time Gale and I got shitfaced and got it on in the public garden, let me assure you, the stars that night were beautiful. It was a magical, unforgettable evening.”

“Sure it was,” she laughed and grabbed her phone.

She couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it. Besides, he was right. She wasn’t that into her now ex. She only went out with him because he kept asking and she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go and make it work. Because, truth be told, it’s been a long, long, long while since she’s been on a date, so she thought that a nice dinner with a conventionally nice, smart, attractive person was not a bad thing for her.

Their order arrived. Full breakfast and coffee for Tav, just black coffee for Astarion. He sipped it slowly, enjoying the way Tav dug into her food with gusto.

“Mmm… this is awesome. Sure you’re not having any?”

“Food? Here? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grimaced. Even the coffee was foul. He could only imagine what the food was like.

“Yes, I know, I know. Your taste is way to refined to dine on something so greasy and disgusting.”

“Yes, because some of us actually have class.”

“I would throw my bacon at you, but it would be a waste of good food. Consider yourself lucky that this is delicious.”

Her attention back on her food, Astarion was free to look at her at his leisure. He knew Tav hated summer, she was no good with the heat. But he quite liked seeing her all sun-kissed, new freckles dotting her skin, hair swept up to bare her beautiful neck.

Astarion would never admit it even if he was threatened with decapitation, but he liked talking to her, watching her. Tav was probably the only person he actually enjoyed spending time with nowadays, but it was not always so.

Astarion was not very fond of Tav when they first met. Actually, that was an understatement. She annoyed him constantly, especially when she was trying to be friendly and welcoming. He could not understand what her deal was. In his experience, people were never nice just for the sake of it. There were always strings attached. So, her doing the whole sweet girl-next-door act left him entirely unimpressed and irritated. If only he could afford the rent, he would not even bother with roommates. As things were, he had to put up with two.

Except over the years he noticed that her kindness was not reserved to the few that she could possibly gain something from. Tav was helpful, thoughtful and empathic towards everyone, which immediately drew people to her. He suddenly found himself a part of a friendship group which gravitated towards Tav. Them liking her was definitely the only thing they initially had in common.

Whilst Astarion enthusiastically threw himself into his studies during the day and even more enthusiastically enjoyed recreational activities with different partners after hours, he gradually came to appreciate her and was glad that Tav became something of a constant in his life. She was a clueless, naïve, sweet fool, but she was his fool. Not that she was stupid, she was quite intelligent, but rather too wide-eyed and hopeful for this world. People like that did not go far and Astarion was planning on going very far and making the most of every opportunity, no matter the cost.

At one point, sometime between cramming for his finals and helping her study for hers, Astarion toyed with the idea of sleeping with Tav. It wasn’t the first time he thought of it. Over the years, he entertained the idea in passing on several occasions with the level of enthusiasm one has when selecting a sandwich for lunch. That is, the same lukewarm interest that most of his conquests would receive. But over the years, Tav wormed her way into his heart. She was not just an annoyance, not just a roommate. They became friends, even if Tav was the one doing all the heavy lifting when it came to maintaining the said friendship. She was just always there and Astarion was very much taking her presence in his life for granted.

However, the realization that their studies and therefore time together would soon be over made the elf see Tav in a different light for the first time. And so he wondered, if she wasn’t just a roommate, just a friend… Whatever in the world could she be?

If anything, Tav was quite beautiful. Not staggeringly gorgeous, like some of his ex-lovers, but very pretty in her own way. Astarion was sure that if they had sex, it would be a fantastic experience for both of them. Especially for Tav. She would actually get an experienced lover unselfishly fulfilling her needs for once. But then he thought of something that he cared squat about when it came to others and very much when it came to her.

Tav’s feelings.

She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t just sleep around for the sake of it. She would probably start reflecting on what it meant for their friendship, worry that it was going to screw everything up. And that was why Astarion didn’t go through with it. Although he was really tempted.

Predictably, they drifted apart after graduation. Predictably, it was his fault. He was the one who constantly cancelled plans and didn’t turn up when she invited him and others to outings. Tav went on to get her teaching certification and he continued on his path of becoming a lawyer. He worked hard and partied harder. His life was a kaleidoscope of faces he couldn’t remember, except those that he regularly spent time with for work.

It was fun, great fun, such great fun, he kept telling himself. It was exactly what he wanted. To take the big city by storm and make it his. To get away from his past, from the memory of scrimping and saving, living in borderline poverty as a child. Feeling helpless as his mother worked every waking moment to provide for his future, them constantly worrying about making ends meet. That was why he made damn sure that no one knew anything of his past. And that meant detaching himself from everyone who knew him before he became Astarion Ancunín the successful lawyer, who was now well on his way to getting a promotion and yet another pay rise.

A little under a decade passed. Astarion rarely gave Tav or any of his former friends much thought. Then, one balmy summer afternoon he saw her in the busy city street, surprisingly talking to Halsin, the environmental lawyer he went up against a few times, out of all people. Astarion felt as if someone sucker punched him. Stunned, Astarion found himself stopping abruptly, not paying attention to people bumping into him. Tav was wearing a pretty sundress that bared her delicate collarbones and shoulders, the light fabric whispering against her skin, her unbound hair framing her face. And then she laughed at something Halsin said, a genuine, full laugh, and smacked his biceps playfully. Astarion felt a wave of something that he could not quite recognise. Another, better emotionally equipped person, would recognise the feeling as longing. To Astarion it was just an unpleasant, hollow feeling that he was quite unfamiliar with.

Whatever it was, it compelled him to cross the street and start walking in her direction. Tav was just turning around when she collided with Astarion, which may or may not have been on purpose on his part.

“Ouch, sorry. I wasn’t- Astarion?”

He inwardly preened that she recognised him immediately. Clearly, he was just that unforgettable.

“Hello, darling,” he practically purred, steadying her gently.

“Wow, it’s been years! Fancy bumping into you like that, literally,” Tav chuckled, feeling quite drab next to him. “Well, I would love to catch up, but you probably have some place to be, all dressed up like that.”

Ah, that was true. He did have some place to be. He always had some important meeting, or trial, or party to go to. But that meant letting her go and that was definitely unacceptable.

“Actually, I am quite free this afternoon. How about getting some brunch?”

“Brunch? Really? Didn’t think you’d be the type, Ancunín,” she teased him a warm smile. “But sure, why not.”

He immediately regretted suggesting brunch, out of all things. But he was never very good coming up with something when put on the spot. And yes, brunch was something boring married couples and the elderly enjoyed, but there they were, walking down the busy street and into the nearest café.

And that was how it became their monthly thing. Meeting up for brunch on Sundays.

Another male, who was better versed at recognizing his own feelings, would have probably just asked Tav out by now. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion may have had a wealth of knowledge when it came to casual flings and friendly fucks, but he had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

And by gods he wanted to! It was embarrassing how much he wanted to. He wanted to wake up next to her every day, to have her move in with him, to have Tav around constantly, give her presents, see her face light up beautifully, whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they got lost in each other. You know, all that sappy crap that couples found so endearing. He wanted all that sappy crap.

But to get to that stage, he had to actually make the first move. He was kind of hoping to entice Tav into propositioning him first, but she was either incredibly dense, bless her heart, or just pretending not to notice that he was constantly flirting with her. Though perhaps it could have something to do with him parading a staggering number of lovers in front of her over the years. He admitted to himself that if tables were turned, he too would doubt that the other person’s interest was sincere.

And so Astarion decided to go for it and ask Tav out. Because he couldn’t stand the thought of her going on yet another date with someone who was not him.

He cleared his throat. “Tav?”

“Hm?” she looked up from her food, half-way done. It was truly impressive how she could devour huge amounts in no time at all.

“I have this thing that I’m supposed to attend, a charity gala dinner of sorts. Would you like to come?”

“You mean to tell me that Astarion Ancunín can’t get a date for the evening?” she teased. “I find that very hard to believe. But sure, sounds like fun,” she smiled, looking quite excited.

He deflated a little. Because whilst it was a ‘yes’ on the outing, it seemed like Tav thought he meant going together as friends. He sighed into his cup. It would have to do for now. At least he would have someone he actually wanted to talk to throughout the evening. And he was curious what Tav would choose to wear. He rather hoped it was something backless.

On Monday, Shadowheart stopped by his office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Got a minute?”

“For you, dearest? Of course.”

She walked up closer to his desk, delicate heels clicking on the hardwood floor and then the sound being swallowed up by the expensive carpet.

“I heard you are bringing Tav along with you to that charity thing,” she began slowly.

Astarion scowled and took his gold rimmed glasses off. They were non-prescription, as everything about him including his eyesight was perfect, but he rather liked how sophisticated he looked when wearing them.

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” he drawled, annoyed to have Shadowheart out of all people find out about his plans.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart gave a longsuffering sigh that was meant to show that she doubted his intelligence, “I know you don’t pay attention to anyone unless there is something to gain, but you do remember that I used to hang out with you and Tav at uni? Of course, not,” she scoffed at the blank look he gave her. “You didn’t even recognise me when I first started working here.”

Astarion vaguely remembered that there was a goth chic hanging out with Tav from time to time, but he was otherwise uninterested in anyone that he wasn’t involved with. He barely said ten words to Shadowheart back then. Her being snarky and mean should have been reason enough for them to hit it off instantly, but not so. Years later, when Shadowheart first started at the company, the silvery blonde hair, the professional-looking pencil skirts and heels, and the much softer manner with which she carried herself were polar opposite to the way she looked when they were in their early twenties.

“Get to your point,” he huffed, really not in the mood for whatever Shadowheart had to say.

“Look, I like Tav. She’s not like you and me. We are pragmatic, narcissistic, ruthless,” she accentuated her words by closing the file he was looking through sharply in his face. “Which makes us perfect at what we do. But, for some reason, Tav seems to like you well enough to keep putting up with you as a friend. But do you really think that you two are on the same page about what is going to happen once you bring her home?”

“Ah, yes. The relationship advice that I didn’t ask for from the person who is as terrible at relationships as I am. Good talk,” he opened the file again to signal that their conversation was over.

“I’m serious. You can’t just screw around with Tav. She is the type that is for keeps and shit.”

“Tsk, I see Karlach’s potty mouth is rubbing off on you,” he admonished the half-elf with a smirk.

“Perhaps in more ways than one,” Shadowheart all but purred.

“Do not need the sordid details and to save you the trouble, never will in the future.”

“Oh really?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “I thought you lived to gossip. When did you become such a bore?”

“Since I had this terrible, headache inducing environmental case thrown on my table,” Astarion rubbed his temples, trying unsuccessfully to fight back a yawn.

“Halsin?”

“Who else. As if it is possible to save that fucking lake for those damn ducks. What is it with that man and ducks?”

She chortled. “Good luck with that. Who knew that he would be so proficient at what he does, right? Wasn’t he the one who was caught streaking couple nights before his graduation? I think we were first year students at the time.”

“It was him, shouting something along the lines of being one with nature. Nice ass though.”

“Nice ass indeed,” she agreed. “But we are digressing. Don’t just sleep with Tav to have yet another notch on your bedpost. If you want to try to make it work with her, go right ahead. Gods know she’s had a crush on you long enough. But if not, well… Expect to be in for a world of hurt. Karlach will hound you and impale you with one of those new swords she bought for her weapon collection she thinks she snuck past me a couple of days ago.”

“You are living together?” Astarion actually looked up, giving her his full undivided attention.

“So it seems,” Shadowheart smiled, a proper, genuine soft smile which rarely graced her face. “Think about what I said. And don’t do anything rash.”

After she left, Astarion tried to focus on his computer screen and the papers in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting to what Shadowheart said earlier.

Tav has had a crush on him for years. Surely not! He would be the first to know if she had feelings for him, right? And what confused him the most that instead of being elated, relieved that she wanted him, he felt a sick kind of dread.

Shadowheart was right. What was he even thinking? He was not ready for an honest-to-gods relationship! Especially with someone like Tav! Someone he cared about too much to just say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ if something went wrong.

He groaned and massaged his temples again. Why did he even ask her? He couldn’t just cancel now, could he? Although… why couldn’t he? It would be easy enough. Make up an excuse of some sort. Tav would probably forgive him. One could hope.

That same evening there was a pounding on his apartment door. Shadowheart was furious, that much he could tell just by checking the doorcam.

“Can I help you?” he opened the door and Shadowheart stormed right in.

“Cut the crap, Ancunín!” she snapped, eyes blazing and clearly ready for a confrontation. “Tav called me. Apparently, you haven’t the balls to actually admit that you like her, so you just cancelled the date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” he said pathetically, sounding like a petulant child even to his own ears.

“That’s what she said too. That it was just you two going as friends,” she mocked. “So, tell me, what set you off? Was it me telling you that she likes you? Is that it?”

“That has nothing to do with this!” he bristled, his hackles raised. “I simply decided that I don’t want to take anyone.”

“Sure you did,” she rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

Astarion chose this moment to regroup, sensing that Shadowheart had one over him. And under no circumstances was the obstinate elf stooping so low as to admit that he was afraid of dealing with feelings. Letting out a breath, he ran his fingers through his snowy curls, letting his lips curl upwards into a smirk. It was a familiar act, comforting in a way. Playing the rake has served him well over the years.

“Besides, why would I even want Tav in that way? I could have anyone, literally anyone, just like that. I could have you right here, right on the floor, right now, if I wanted to.”

“Excuse me?” She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed by his insinuation.

“You heard me. In fact, I think that’s why you are really here,” he took a purposeful, predatory step towards her, taking his glasses off and giving her a slow, practiced smile. He tilted his head forward a little, letting a rogue curl fall out of place, dropping his voice to a sensual murmur. “Want me to throw you one, Sha-dow-heart?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. In hindsight, perhaps challenging her was not one of his brightest ideas. But then again, how many of his snap decisions were?

“Do it,” she lessened the distance between them, so they were standing almost nose to nose. “I said do it. Throw me one, Astarion.”

“Excuse me? Wha- what about Karlach?” he stuttered, panicking and unsure of what to do next.

“Let’s just say we have an understanding, of sorts. So come on then. Right here, right now, on the floor.” Shadowheart trailed a delicate finger up and down his chest, bringing her other hand up to pop the top button on her shirt open.

“What do you say?” she murmured, looking up at him through her long, fluttery lashes.

Shadowheart was a picture and she knew it. There was no way any living, breathing creature would turn her down, especially when her intent was all-too-clear.

Astarion gulped. “I- I think you should go.”

“I knew it!” she jabbed him hard with a manicured finger, making the elf wince. “I knew that you were full of shit! And you know why? Because you like Tav, you clueless idiot! So do yourself a favour, stop being a fool and call her! Take her to the party, don’t take her to the party. But tell Tav how you really feel or I swear to gods, I will give her number to everyone who has been clamouring to ask her out. I have a list a mile long of people who would happily sweep her off her feet the way that she actually deserves! Your move, Ancunín.”

And with that she stormed out, slamming the door shut for good measure.

Astarion did not call Tav. Not that evening, not the day after, and not the day after that.

He hated how much of a coward he was. And Shadowheart was right, Tav deserved much more than his half-arsed attempts at asking her out.

On Friday evening, Shadowheart stopped by his office before leaving for the day and sat down on the sofa opposite his desk, crossing her shapely legs as she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Halsin asked Tav out, you know. And she said yes. They are meeting for drinks tonight, probably right about now.”

Astarion did not look up from the papers strewn across his desk. “Thank you for that information, not that I asked.”

“So I take it that you don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he waved her question off, as if it was completely inconsequential and unimportant, lifted the cup of coffee off his table and took a sip. He definitely would have to pull an all-nighter, with the workload being absolutely impossible.

“Good, good. That’s what I thought too. Which is why I told Tav that it wasn’t slutty at all to go all the way on the first date.”

He choked on his coffee.

She quirked an eyebrow and waited a beat for her words to sink in. “And then, being a good friend, I made sure that Tav had three types of condoms in her bag. Halsin looks like a big boy, but you never know what size they might actually need.”

Astarion could not reply because he was still trying to cough up his lungs, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“But never mind that, I’m sure you have a marvelous evening ahead of you,” Shadowheart smirked, getting up and smoothing the front of her pencil skirt out. “I, for one, am meeting up with Karlach in an hour, so have a nice weekend.” With that she walked out of his office, her heels clicking in a way that could only be described as smug.

Astarion told himself that it didn’t matter to him if she slept with Halsin. Hells, it didn’t matter if she slept with half the city! It was none of his business. He had their monthly brunches to look forward to. The next one would be in a couple of weeks, or 26 days, or 624 hours. Not that he was counting.

And that was how Astarion found himself standing across the street from the place that he heard Tav go on about. He guessed correctly, she was indeed at that exact restaurant.

Astarion scowled as he saw that she actually made a real effort for this date, looking absolutely delicious, if he said so himself.

He could have taken her there. It could be him sitting across from Tav now. Reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin, she really was a messy pup sometimes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Leaning forward to-

“Oh, hells no,” Astarion hissed, watching as Halsin leaned forward to whisper something in Tav’s ear, making her blush prettily.

“You deserve it, you know.”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Karlach was looking at him with a smirk, Shadowheart standing next to her tiefling.

“What are you doing here?”

“On no, Shadowheart, Astarion’s been discovered!” Karlach stage whispered. “Spying on a person on her date like some kind of creep.”

“And you two? Don’t tell me you just happened to stroll past this particular restaurant at this exact time, hm?” Astarion mocked, his back rigid as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Oh, we are nosy, alright” Karlach admitted readily with a shrug. “But we are rooting for this date to be a success. And I bet Shadowheart that you would turn up. Pay up, baby!”

Shadowheart grumbled and got her phone out, sending the money to Karlach. “You see, I had some faith in you. Should have known better.”

“Well, thank you very fucking much,” he bowed with a flourish and turned away from the two. “Now if you two excuse me, I have a date to crash.”

“What do you think you are doing? There is no way you are going there!” Shadowheart hissed, grasping his forearm and making him squirm. The woman was deceptively delicate, holding him in place easily with a vice-like grip.

“And why the hells not?” Astarion spat, finally managing to push her away with his other arm.

“Because Karlach here will throttle you if you make one step towards that restaurant.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He survived this long by knowing to pick his battles wisely. He could perhaps take Shadowheart in a scuffle, but Karlach was a different matter entirely. Yet, he was not above being a petty bitch about it.

“Shadowheart wanted me to throw her one,” he hissed spitefully.

“Yes, she told me about that conversation you had,” Karlach grinned, completely unfazed by the hostile looks the two elves were giving each other. “Because my baby always tells me everything.”

“Baby does,” Shadowheart nodded without looking away from Astarion but squeezed Karlach’s hand, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.

“Ew, talking in third person,” he sneered. “It’s such a disgusting, coupley thing,”

“How would you know? Not exactly an expert,” Shadowheart countered quickly, making him scowl.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Karlach patted Astarion’s silver curls good-naturedly. She really did feel sorry for him, firmly believing that the elf was capable of getting his head out of his ass if given enough incentive. “Whatever happens now, happens. You missed your chance.”

“Shadowheart? Is that you?”

The three froze as they saw that Tav was walking towards them, smiling broadly.

Shit.

She saw them. The three weirdos stalking their friend whilst she was on a date. Not their proudest moment.

💖Tag list 💖:

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@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

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@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

[pursuitseternal]

Spend “A Night with the Ascendant:” the Dark Lord Astarion and his concubine spawn

Ascended Astarion x His Spawn (Lumina) | 🪦Dead Dove | 7k of harem/concubine smut

Summary: The Vampire Ascendant of the Crimson Palace takes an interest in his newest spawn and prize. She is a radiant young woman who defies his expectations of servitude among the throng of beautiful concubines, all the rest who await his attention in their gilded cage.

CW: Dub!Con, Harem dynamics, consorts/concubines, public sex, degradation, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, Oral sex male recieving, somnophilia if you squint, shared love of books, a hint of a softer side to the exalted master, and an Ascended Vampire Lord who finds himself far too comfortable around his obedient spawn.

A/n: assumes no “in game romance” No Tav… no one.

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥

“The little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means “light…”

Some silken voice woke her. The ghost of his laughter swirled in her ear through her sleep. Her dreams were harsh and restless. Her body was sore, as if knit back together after being torn asunder.

Head spinning, body wracked in the ebb of pain, but she stirred. Alive.

Lumina woke on a little bed, the scent of perfume cloyed in her throat. Her very parched, very thirsty throat. Her belly gnawed, unspeakably hungry. Her eyes flew open to the strong environs— a small freshly made bed beneath her, a chest in the corner, wash basin and a vast array of bottles beside it. Each was brightly colored and brimming with oils and soaps and fragrances.

Her nose could smell them through the glass. Her eyes could read the labels, even at this distance. Her head swam with all the input, all of her senses sharp and overloaded as she struggled from her bed.

Three of her walls were a smooth, white stone, but the fourth…. Bars, inlaid with gold and etched with filigree and filament.

A gilded cage.

Rising quickly, she took the pitcher in her washstand, trying to slake that thirst at last. But after even a single drop of water hit her tongue, she knew for certain it wasn’t water for which we thirsted.

Blood.

She had read enough books, sold enough copies of The Curse of the Vampyr to know full well what she was. She vaguely remembered being hooded and whisked away from her Keeper’s back room. His gruff voice happy to have her gone and his debts paid all at once.

He would burn in the hells for this and everything he had done. His little shop of spells and scrolls and books wouldn’t keep him from the recompense coming to him. She had been one of a long list of indentures who suffered from his greed.

Thirst, hunger, pain… it was no different now. At least her cage was gilded and her bed was stuffed with feathers.

But there was the bloodlust. The agony. The need to feed.

Even as her hand started to claw at her throat, she heard the sounds of movement from the hall.

She heard whimpering, pleading. Some musical feminine voice just near her cell spouted out such pretty words. “Please my lord… I’ll do anything my lord… take me, fuck me, drink me near to dry… I’ll be good this time…”

“Shut up!” A voice sliced through her hissing and whining. And instantly she was silenced.

Lumina heard the swing of metal on hinges, the click of the lock once it closed. “Now,” that same voice purred. And instantly, Lumina’s gut twisted. She had heard it. In her head. In the darkness. In her fitful dreams. “As my first consort has left me so…” he huffed, “…unsatisfied, I guess I’ll just have to select another for tonight.”

Footsteps echoed on the floor. That velvet voice slunk closer with each word. Until he stood before her.

His head cocked as he looked her up and down, bright scarlet eyes that glowed just a touch, a combed and coiffed tousle of silver hair. Manicured to look mussy. He stared at her, unmoving.

And Lumina stared back. He was tall, lithe and strong, his jacket embroidered to perfection, a mix of golds and silvers and beads that wound around his shoulders and chest. His breeches…

Fuck.

They gaped at the waistband, the smooth pink head of a cock peeking from the dark material. She could watch it twitch as her eyes undoubtedly widened to see it staring back.

Unbothered that she should see it, he grinned at her reaction. He wanted her… everyone to see him. Unsatisfied, requiring more.

“You’re awake at last, my newest little spawn,” he smirked as he closed in on her barred cell. “How do you feel?”

She froze. Keeping her mouth silent as she often had before. Handsy shop goers, clients in the back rooms. She would stare them off; it worked before. Most of the time. And then if not she had other recourses and tricks.

But even as her mind began to spin ideas of how to reply, she could feel him in there. A pressure, a poke. A command to reply. So she shut her lips tighter.

His presence swelled, that poke became a chokehold, throttling her mind as her lips opened. “I feel new… pained… different, my Lord Astarion.”

“Good girl,” he replied, a bit of praise that accompanied a bit of a smile.

And it made something in her gut warm all over to receive it.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t take the time to make you… acquainted… with your new lodgings here at the Crimson Palace.” His lips sneered back, voracious and delighted. “And we can tend to educating you in your duties as well. Two birds, one stone sort of thing, darling.”

Lumina still held still, her body growing hot at his plans. “You mean sex, my lord…” It wasn’t a question.

“Well… you’re my lowest, newest concubine, but a concubine nonetheless.” He gave her a dramatic sigh. “Hopefully you fare better than the most experienced one here did tonight.” He turned, looking over his shoulder to shake his head and tut his tongue. “So disappointing.”

Lumina stepped to the side to catch a glance at the consort in question. She was tall, elegant and regal in bearing. Tiefling. Unfamiliar. And her dark eyes that matched her dark skin settled back on her with vitriol and loathing.

Minutes awake, newly vampiric, and she already had an enemy. Lumina’s eyes scanned back to the Master as he returned that assessing gaze on her once more. His pleasure… his approval would be weathervane at best, it seemed. She could already tell from the way his deep set eyes narrowed, how his legs spread with the stance of confidence and power. But it was what she needed— what she would seek to survive.

“What would you have me do, my lord?” she kept her voice soft, submissive, tilting her head down to look at him through her lashes. A trick she had learned in her twenty-some years of indentured servitude.

“A promising beginning.” His lips twisted to one side, that left brow arching rakishly. Suddenly the gate released, and he beckoned her out, crooking a single, long-nailed finger in her direction. “Perhaps you can show your betters what to do for me, hmm?” She obeyed, treading on her bare feet across the bright marble floor until she stood before him. She had always been shorter, but there was something about his bearing, his demeanor and power that made her curl in, feel small.

“Well, I didn’t even have to compel you, curious…” he cast his condescending gaze back at the towering and fuming Tiefling consort behind her bars.

Lumina glanced carefully down the hall—rows of similar cells stretched on… a dozen eyes, all glowing red, locked on her.

His chosen for the night.

She could feel his breath before his touch. His fingers gripped firmly around her jaw, turning her head, angling her up so she had nowhere to look but those piercing, enticing red eyes. “You are one of many, little spawn, but you are untested, and that makes you… interesting. Shall we taste but a sample of what you have to offer?”

His lips consumed her before she could suck down air, that hand at her jaw spun her, shoved her back against the bars. His taste was of fire and wine, burning and sweet. And entirely intoxicating.

A tug at the skirt of her flimsy little shift, and she knew what was coming. Unavoidable. Not unwanted either now that his taste was on her tongue, and not when his tongue was thrust so tantalizing between her lips. Her hands pulled the fabric faster, making his lips smirk as he worked them against her mouth.

Three fingers swept quickly between her legs, his thumb pushing past the soft curls on her mound. And he sneered a bit. “I’ll forgive you this once,” he growled, disapprovingly. “I keep my concubines clean shaven. A pity for you human ones, but you’ll just have to obey me, my pet.”

“Yes, my lord.” The words flew from her mouth before they even passed her brain.

“Given how wet you are already, however, I’m sure you’ll more than make it up to me. So new and willing and obedient…” his voice failed, those fingers drawing deeper inside her, back and forth. His fingers crooked hard and fast, making the wettest, most obscene noises he could from between her legs.

“Doesn’t she just sound eager and ripe?” He lifted his head from hers, cocking his chin at the closest one watching.

The first consort hovered behind her, her breath was cold against Lumina’s neck. It was her cage he had pressed her against, her punishment enacted where Lumina was but a weapon to use.

“Want to see if I’ll fit?” hegrowled, again over her shoulder. “Shall we test it… and see?”

“Whatever pleases you, my lord…” the Tiefling hissed, her deep and sultry voice was so close behind Lumina’s head that it tickled her ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed delightedly and darkly, one hand moving between their bellies. “Seems you’ve remembered your place, at least a little…” Then his head returned to glare down at her. “But this one is adorably short. Assist her, Morana.”

His command tingled in the air pulling at both their bodies, she could tell. The Tiefling panted and hissed as her clawed hands slid under Lumina’s armpits to hoist her higher up the bars. She held on for but a moment, until she dropped quickly.

His cock waiting to catch her, his thigh braced her fall. He roared in her ear, hands gripped into her hips so he could fuck. Split apart, so full, her body cried out in blissful agony. It had been awhile since she had a lover… and none was like this. His shaft pumped hard and fast, his breath tingling and hot in the crook of her neck.

“Why…” he panted, loud enough for the others to hear. “You’re perfect, wet and tight as if never taken, you sweet little spawn.”

That silken voice, those honeyed praises, they settled right in her belly, pooling just where the head of his cock had rammed her already senseless.

“But I would hate to debase you completely before your peers. Hate to spoil in public… what I will have in the comforts of my chambers.”

With a groan, he pulled out. His cock, pale and veined, twitched to be denied. Her feet slammed on the floor, her body thrown forward until she almost crashed into him. But she caught one hand on a golden jail bar behind her. Just in time.

“They’ve seen enough, little Lumina,” he purred again, his fingers smelled of her slick as he clutched at her chin again. “And I, why, I have just begun to have my fill of you.”

Lumina shuddered under the intensity of his gaze, his sharp face twisted in that sensual smirk, his hand still pulling at her jaw. Bringing her in for one more biting kiss. One more that made her head spin and her legs shake.

Voices called from down the hall, a mixed chorus of male and female.

“Be sure to bite him…”

“He loves it when you swallow, dear…”

“Use just a little teeth, he will thank you for it…”

“Hush, the lot of you,” he hissed, a snarl on his lips, those pointed fangs now in her sight as she trembled. “Stop toying with the precious, little thing,” he turned down to kiss her once more. Almost a chaste little peck. “That is my right as your maker, dear.” He let her go, her flesh suddenly ice cold without his burning touch. “Come, Lumina.”

There it was again, that push in her mind, like tendrils of him woven into her nerves, making her feet follow him from the dungeons.

Halls stretched before them, stair after stair, winding up higher into the palace. All was gilded with creams and scarlets and sable. All was decadent. Magnificent and mouthwatering.

Not unlike its Master.

He was quiet, turning an infrequent smile down on her from time to time. Certainly every time her thighs squelched with wetness.

Of course, as they reached the topmost landing he turned, flashing some wicked smile as he caught her hand from her side. His cock still poked from the top of his waistband, barely contained and leaking as he brought her hand to his lips. “Tonight I bring you to my rooms myself, make you acquainted with your new living situation, but from now on, you’ll come when I summon you…” He paused sweeping her hand from his lips face to press it hard against that raging erection.

She gasped and swallowed the sound quickly.

“…if I summon you that is… much depends upon how you please me this evening.” He laughed, backing her into the open door behind him. She couldn’t take in the surroundings, not yet. Not when she lost herself in the scarlet glow of his eyes and perfect flash of his fangs. He was all sensuality and luxury set in ivory skin, his voice dripped in arousal, no matter what degrading things he purred down at her. “It is quite the coveted role, spending the night with the Ascendant. I’m sure you could feel all their jealousy, could cut their envy with a knife…”

He let out a giggle, pulling her hand from his cock to tug her flush against his body again. The room was dark. Soft little candles gave off flickering lights, lights that caught in his silver hair and refracted in his gaze. “But you’ll do your best to please me, I’m sure of it, little spawn,” he rasped right in her ear, allowing his lips to brush over the smooth, rounded edges letting his warm breath flow down her neck. “It is only your first day as my creation…”

He sat himself on the edge of his bed, a grand thing, four postered and canopied in scarlet silks and velvets. Hands pressed into the covers behind him, a little groan in his throat as he leaned back.

Letting his cock ease from his dark breeches a bit more, giving it a few strokes as he did so.

“My little spawn, come here,” he ordered, clear and concise. Direct enough to send a shudder down her spine at its snapping tone. “Kneel.”

Her body paused, eyes wide as she took in the sight of… him… his cock… his rooms. All of it.

And then those tendrils tugged at her thoughts again, ordering her body lower and lower. She had always been slightly smaller, but now, crouching on her knees, brought to kneel at his feet, she never felt so small. So insignificant. So lucky to have been chosen despite it.

“Lumina,” he breathed and slid his legs further from bed, until they crowded her in from either side. “A curious little name. I’m sure you were quite the brilliant light in your past life, like your name suggests.”

No, I wasn’t.

“Yes, my Lord Astarion,” the automatic reply sounded from her lips. And he hadn’t even compelled them. They just seemed safer.

He preened, a slight buck of his hips at the way her voice rolled out his name. She noticed. A gaping, fang-showing smile and he cocked his head. “You know why I chose you? Well… other than to pay off your master’s debts, of course….”

Lord Astarion grinned— something wicked and feral beneath that smile. “How could I pass up damning the little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means light to an eternity of darkness in my bed?” He sighed, deep and long and loud, from where he still perched at the edge. From where he held court before her at his bedside. His legs were so long, almost brushing her, where she knelt at his feet. The bed creaked as he arched back on his hands. Aroused. Pleased. “It’s too delicious an irony to pass up, wouldn’t you agree?”

The pressure in Lumina’s mind reinserted itself. His power, his presence made a smile come to her pressed lips as she heard her own voice give a sweet noise of assent. “Yes, my lord…”

“Such a good little girl,” he purred, leaning forward to pull her by her collar. “Now, open.”

She batted her eyes shut, slowly letting her mouth hang open, her pink tongue to just barely cover her lower lip. The second that salty, bitter tang on his cock brushed the tip, she lapped greedily, letting him slide deeper into her mouth.

And she earned herself a rumbling groan from above. “Gods,” he crooned, “you’ve done this before, haven’t you, little spawn?”

She just smiled, flicking a glance up, a bat of her lashes as she took him deeper, sucking on and off, up and down. He leaned further back into the bed, legs splayed out, long and lazy.

“And here I thought you some virginal thing, needing instruction and guidance. A pleasant surprise….” One had reached to brush back her bright golden locks, planting a firm grip at the back of her neck. Not pushing her rhythm, rather he rode it, savored it, as she worked with tongue and lips and cheeks.

It was warped praise, but it was enough to ignite a little boldness. Her cold fingers slipped past the base of his cock into the warmth of his trousers, reaching to cradle softly around his balls.

So smooth and taught. Almost ready to blow. She gave that smooth, soft pad of skin a gentle rub, a subtle tug. And all the while she kept her mouth busy, wet enough and loud enough to fix his gaze on her.

On where she knelt at his feet. Submitting. Sucking every little bit of that velvet skin, relishing the pulse that thrummed through its length. Swallowing every little eking drop of his seed as it leaked onto her tongue. Every little trick she had learned before, every move that made her handful of encounters and lovers pleasured, she used every one. It was easy with him, the way he began to groan out sweet little nothings. “Faster…. Deeper… yes.” His voice sent shivers right to her cunt, soaking down her thighs more the faster she bobbed back and forth.

Until he gripped into her hair and yanked her off. Holding her steady over his thighs, he rubbed himself in his tight fist all the faster. The wet beat increased in speed until he came, streams of cum dripping down her cheeks, her chin. His voice barely more than a groan as he sighed at the sight. Lumina’s little tongue lapped it from her lips, using one hand to gather it from her face, licking her fingers clean.

“Hells below,” he grinned, ever so rakish, ever so pleased. “You’re quite the slut aren’t you? Like the way I taste on your tongue, the way I dry on your skin, hmm?”

“Yes, my lord,” she simpered, sitting back on her heels.

“Incredible, little spawn. You’ve more than earned a reward, darling,” he stood, once again unbothered to clean his leaking cock or return it decently away. No, instead, he stood, keeping his gaze fixed on hers. Smirking all the wider as her dark eyes followed him across the room, darting between his face and the away his hardened cock bobbed up and down as he swayed.

A little cabinet opened in the wall across the room, and only then did Lumina take in the grandeur of his chambers. The far wall was entirely lined with books, big bright beautiful spines glowed in the light of the massive fireplace adjacent.

It stole her breath away, having spent years working in servitude to sell them… those and whatever other shit her old keeper had to peddle.

Seeing such a massive collection of books, so cared for and well-tended, she could almost catch a glimmer of who her new master was beneath that embroidered veneer of power and sex.

But it faded the second he grabbed a bottle from one shelf, a golden cup in the other, a red beverage pouring loudly. Lumina smelled it before she saw it. Blood. At last.

He seated himself in the large, plush wing-backed chair by the fire, crimson gaze burning her skin as he gave himself a long, slurping sip.

A small, scarlet line slipped from the corner of his lip as he offered the cup to her. “Drink, my pet. You earned it. Sate that bloodlust for the first time, little spawn.”

She fairly scrambled on all fours, stumbling and catching herself as she raced for that little cup. She knocked it back in one swig, her breathing ragged as it filled her stomach just a bit, just enough to take the sharpest pains away. But as she lowered the cup, her stomach sank, Astarion only smiled at her. Bemused. The glass bottle still sat on the shelf. “Something you wish to ask of me?” he crooned.

“Please, my lord,” her hand shook, holding out the golden offering. “I’m so… so thirsty.

“I know my pet,” he cajoled, a little shake of his head, brows furrowed and mouth frowning in pity. “But you’ll have to earn more.”

“Tell me anything,” the words raced off her tongue, her body sinking back to her knees. She begged, tears in her eyes as she caressed up his thighs. Those dark pants were so soft under her touch. But there was too heavy a scent in the air for her to appreciate anything more. She wanted to lick that dribble still on his chin, wanted to drink her fill straight from the neck of the bottle…

Wanted to drink right from the pulsing artery in his own neck.

But the second that thought crossed her mind, those dark tendrils were there to seize it. “Ah, ah,” he chided. “None of that. You don’t get to taste any more of me than what has already covered your tongue, my spawn.”

“Then what will you have me do, my lord?” she forced the words through her thick throat, trying to swallow to chase the parched feeling away.

“Disrobe,” he snipped, reaching for that bottle of blood, taking a swig right from the opening just as she wanted too. “You’re not clothed in much, but I appreciate a demonstration of beauty.” Another swallow, louder this time, loud enough to make her lick her dry and swollen lips. “And aren’t you beautiful, Lumina.”

She could feel her sallow, cold-fleshed cheeks blush at his words. One hand pulled the little shift from over her head, a single fluid motion as she tossed it into his lap.

Oh, the way that smirk widened enough to show his teeth… it made her stomach knot all funny, made her body hotter than she thought possible for the undead.

He reached for the cup from her hand, filling it a bit more. Another little reward for her display. “Good girl, Lumina, my little light I think I’ll keep close to me.”

She swallowed the fresh offering down, setting it down on the floor beside his chair. Those drinks in her belly made her all the bolder, all the more alive.

“What will you do to earn even more, I wonder?” he purred, wagging the bottle slowly, eyes skimming down her pale, little body, tongue tip licking his fang as he smirked.

“Suggestions to entertain you, my lord?” she smiled so sweetly, decided to follow his gaze with a featherlight touch down her own body. She started on her neck, where his cum still dampened her skin, trailing it down her collarbone, grazing between her full and swaying breasts.

That made his tongue dart and lap at his lip, a predator licking his chops. “Very good…” he growled, leaning back and sliding his ass lower in the chair. “Now, take my cum on your fingers and touch yourself, darling…”

Another loud swallow in his throat as she obeyed. Not even a tendril of compelling required. Lumina did as she was told, lowering her eyes to watch her own hands, gathering one more streak of his seed from her shoulder before she slid it inside her folds.

Her eyes fluttered shut to finally feel an iota of release. She burned, wanting more since he fucked her quickly against those bars. Like lighting, pleasure flashed down her nerves, her fingers working so quickly to chase that swell of satisfaction that flared inside her.

“Enough,” he growled.

But she... couldn’t. She needed something. Needed to either satisfy the gnaw of her stomach or the inferno between her thighs.

Not compelling in her brain this time, Astarion gripped her by the waist, dragging her between his legs before he ripped her hand from her fold. “Bad girl,” he tutted, bringing her sopping fingers into his mouth to suck them clean.

And then he bit. Fangs tore into the heel of her palm. She cried in pain, a deep, wicked laugh was her answer from him as he drank from her. It was brief, but painful. And now she was left all the hungrier for it. “Learn your place, little spawn. You do as I say… nothing more, nothing less.” His voice was sharp, wild. With all the arrogance of one who has been obeyed for a century, perhaps longer.

“Sorry, my lord,” Lumina quickly stammered. Give him what he wants, she reminded herself. “I will obey you.” Added for good measure.

That softened the razor lines of his cheeks, his jaw unclenching to hear such sweet submission. “I’ll allow you another chance, little light,” he purred once more, all honey and silk in his tone. “Undress me.”

Amused glint in his crimson eyes, conceited smirk on his lips, he reclined against his chair. A single hand gestured lavishly over the clasps and buttons of his luxurious jacket. Lumina did not hesitate, careful to keep her wounded hand from offending his clothing, already clotting as she healed quickly.

A reminder she was now Vampiric, as if she could forget her new form with that hunger in her belly. She eyed the bottle in his hand still, watching the blood dance and slosh inside its green clear walls.

“Look at me, little spawn,” he hissed, her hands almost done with the heavy meal clasps before beginning the inner buttons. She acquiesced, quickly lost in the way his eyes hungered. They brimmed with power, but that dulled light of boredom was gone— its crimson now bright with curiosity, fascination. And for a moment, she let herself feel a hint of pride that she was giving him that.

Once his perfect, ivory chest was in sight, she let her fingers just brush down that deep groove between his muscles. She pushed the heavy clothing apart, mouth salivating the more she saw. And she doubted it was just the bond of him as her creator that caused such a visceral reaction to the sight of him…

Of his body.

A rolling, rumbling chuckle in his chest shook under fingers. That cool glass bottle was thrust against her belly. She caught it, smiling as he ordered her to drink. But even as she downed swallow after swallow, she watched his every elegant movement. So sleek as he pulled himself free from his clothing, he tossed it in a rumpled mess on the floor. He even slid his breeches from under his ass, hand gripped around that pale, achingly hard cock.

As he stroked himself, he watched her drink, watching the drips slink down her chin as she couldn’t help but drain that bottle dry. “Feel better?” he cooed, still absentmindedly stroking himself as he watched her clean her mouth on the back of her little hand.

Lumina sighed, the bottle dropping to the floor from her hand as it shook. She was finally fuller, finally more sated and happier and warmer. “Yes, my Lord Astarion,” she moaned in response. “Thank you.”

“So very polite you are. Oh, I like you. That genuine little sound in your voice as your small, curved body shakes to be near me. Yes,” he reached a hand towards her. Leaning forward, he clutched her in his own long fingers, “you’ll do very nicely, for quite awhile, I hope.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” she hummed, a little swivel to her hips, a slight stroke of her free hand over the crest of her mound. “Anything else I might do for you, Lord Astarion?”

He cocked his chin, face twisting and tweaking in flirtatious amusement. “I believe I can think of a thing or two… best send you back down to your quarters with enough cum to drip down your legs for days. That way they all know just how very much you’ve pleased me…”

She shivered, his words making her stomach drop to her toes, making her cunt twitch and ache to be filled. Her eyes grew wide watching him buck a little on the seat of his chair. “Finish your task, little spawn. Undress me completely.”

She knelt so quickly, hands pulling off the supple leather of his boots, unsheathing his legs one by one. His skin was so smooth, muscles bunched and taught under the little accidental brushes she made against his calves. Tossing it all to the side with his discarded jacket, she glanced up at him, the paragon of beauty, the image of power and sex she had fallen madly obsessed with.

It only took one night with him, one touch of his fingers, one taste of him on her tongue. She knelt happily and would obey.

His legs spread wide, a single slap of his hand on the top of his thigh. “Sit,” he commanded, and she flew to him, hovering over his cock just long enough for his sly hand to line that head just so. And sit, she did. His forehead pressed against her breasts, his breath hot as he sighed to fill her. Her body took command, hips riding that length that pushed and thrashed against the end of her channel. She looked at him, watching the soft curls of his silver hair tousling as she fucked him.

And then, she felt it. A warm sweep of his tongue on her full and rounded breast. He drew it into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard until he made her cry. Her hands braced carefully on his shoulders, the perfect height for her to grind up and down. Little buck after buck of his hips beneath her met every slap of her cunt on his thighs. But even that natural ride of her body on his grew harder with the way he swirled his tongue on her nipple. Hands wandered up and down her back, one finally stopped to cradle her other swinging breast.

A single brush of his razor-fangs on that perfect pink nipple, and she shattered. Writhing, twitching, there was no sensation in her body that wasn’t the pleasure he drew from her. It was blistering hot and all-consuming, her body going nearly limp to allow him to grab her by the waist and fuck up into her with abandon.

It was his turn. Those long nails scored into her back, drawing blood under his touch. Scraping lower, he clawed their sharp edges into the rippling flesh of her ass, making her moan so, so deliciously loudly. She was clay in his hands, knowing just how to respond to his touch, how to reply to his words.

More intoxicating than immortal life had been for decades.

Clenching, she shattered on his cock once more so soon. Lumina panted, starved of breath, unable to let her muscles relax and slow in post-coital bliss. He just gave her more, gave it to her harder. Until at last, he groaned. Practically lifting her with his strength to slam her back down with every thrust into her, until he finally let it all go. His voice hissed, growling and groaning as he came, filling up into her with spurts that stole even his undead breath.

Finally, she was allowed to soften in his arms. Cautious not to sprawl into him, to cuddle or savor the press of his body that had just given and taken so much. A few breaths, and he pressed his head against her shoulder for a moment.

As if he forgot for that moment he was the most powerful being in Faerûn.

“Get up,” he hissed, voice steeled over and sharp. Remembering himself.

Lumina did as she was told. Shaking and trembling, she reached for the bookcases to steady herself. Fingertips brushed the soft leather bindings, and it made her smile. Sweet little moments of comfort, the only ones she had all her life.

He was beside her in an instant. Gaze following where hers had been, his lips smiled faintly. “See one you like, little spawn?”

Lumina’s brow quirked in confusion. A delightful picture, he decided. A portrait of well-fucked surprise. “So many of them, my lord. I could hardly choose a single interesting star in the sky.”

“Choose one star for this evening, another for the next,” he turned away, a low throated chuckle as he left her. “One each time until I tire of you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, his twisted gift making her smile as she pulled a simple, blue leather-bound book from its shelf.

The bed creaked. And as she turned her stomach fluttered again to see, to feel those eyes piercing into her. Even as her slick and his cum slipped down her thigh, she burned for more. He held out two more cups, a fresh bottle on the nightstand to replenish them both. “Come, Lumina,” he bid her, loudly and formally. But the way his smile widened as she clutched the little blue bloom against her breasts, slinking closer as if she were shy, she knew something may have shifted.

If only slightly.

Cautiously, she slid into the scarlet sheets on the opposite side. That book still pressed into her body. He didn’t look away, proffering her that cup of replenishment as she leaned against the pillows. One arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Closer, my little spawn.” He flashed his fangs, raising his own cup to those conceited, smirking lips. “I would say I don’t bite, but…” his voice trailed off as he drank deeply.

Lumina slid closer, sipping slowly this time, thumbing the vellum pages’ edge, lost in her thoughts.

Something warm and heavy pressing into her lap threw her right back into her surroundings. The rooms of the Ascendant. His face rested on her lap. His head turned toward her, his breath was warm on her belly, where her skin reached up above the covers. “Not going to read while I allow you some respite, Lumina?”

“I…” she trailed off.

“Don’t you worry, little light. I’ll let you know when I am ready and eager for more of your submission, darling.” His voice sounded softer to her ears than the silks and downs of his bed. “And after all, from here…” that voice turned hungry, edged with velvet seduction again, “I’ll be more than ready to eat you right up.”

Shuddering from his words, she obeyed his suggestion. One hand held her cup, the cool, sanguine drink filling her up and chasing away that pain inside her. The other hand carefully opened the book to the side of her lap, turning the delicate pages with reverence. After a while, words began to swim, her immortal human body growing tired after all. But even the comfort of a book in her hands and the fresh stories between its covers didn’t soothe her more than the weight of his head on her lap…

The slowing breath from his nose on her belly…

The growing heaviness of sleep that filled her frame from his.

He nestled there on her thighs, eyes shut in trance, breath steady and peaceful as he rested.

Carefully, she set the empty cup down on the end table. Laying back, she soon drifted as well, and as she dozed off, her fingers unknowingly wrapped in the unruly tendrils of his silver locks.

Her sleep swept her away, body aching, lips swollen… It was finally a rest that was hunger free and soft. Sleeping with the Vampire Ascendant, unheard of in all the realms. She dozed, she knew not how long…

Until the sheets were ripped from her body, heaviness crushing her as he rasped in her ear, “Wake up, little spawn. Surely you don’t think I would let you merely sleep the night away.”

Astarion knelt between her thighs, hands raising them, forcing her knees to bend. Her sleepy eyes forced themselves open, watching that self-conceited smirk leer down at her, his erection bobbing so rigid and pink as he lined himself up.

“Come, Lumina,” he groaned as he sheathed himself in. “Rouse yourself, make yourself useful for once.” She arched her back, and sleep did quickly leave her limb, blinking the haze from her eyes. Those long fingers dug into her knees, his hips slapping hard and rough and wild. She could feel her blood drip from where he clawed into her skin, that essence swallowed by the scarlet sheets.

Every thrust drew sweet little pants, whimpering cries from her tired mouth. She couldn’t help it, not as he had his way with her, still half asleep but also half eager for more. And totally, completely drenched for his cock again. This time, it was all for him, his eyes glued to the way her breasts swayed with every ride of her body, her lips bitten by her own newborn fangs as she took his fucking so well.

Not one complaint, not one iota of resistance. No, she lounged, arms sprawled into the pillow, thighs opened wide for his use. Music drawn from her throat that resounded in his rooms, he loved it.

Loved it so much, he wanted to feel that sweet little cunt milk him, clench around his cock to take his spend so deep inside her, it would take days to drip its way out. A little sweep of his thumb into the peak of her folds, and he circled that hardened clit. So swollen, she instantly writhed and grinded back at the new source of pleasure. Panting, keening, she shuddered into the bed, the sharp edge of his fingernail digging slightly into her flesh, scoring around her clit’s thickened hood. Pain sliced through her pleasure. And as her hands gripped into the downy pillow, she thrashed in her climax. Ribbons of her arousal poured out around him, fire scalding hot down her limbs and pouring through her as she shuddered.

Every clench of her walls sucked him in harder, making it nearly impossible to drag himself in and out. A beautiful little burning light, burning hot just for him.

And they all would see it. Every last one of his spawn he kept for pleasure… they would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she pleased him. The vision of her, walking back down the halls of his harem, smelling like him, trails of her slick and his cum running down her heel to puddle on the floor. That book in her hand, a treasured gift to his new favorite…

“Fuck,” he groaned, her voice matching his in volume as she mewled all the louder. He split her open, slamming against that end of her. Untethered, uncontrolled as he spilled hard and fast inside her. His breath was heavy and damp, almost as much as his body as he laid on top of her, cock still buried deep inside her folds. He crushed her, covered her. Lumina needed to crane her head just to fit in the space of his neck to breathe.

Did she even need to breathe anymore? But even such thoughts melted, as he rested there. Again. So warm and blanketing her in all of him.

The air was thick with their scents, wet with their sweat. But she didn’t care. She would let him sleep until dawn like this if he willed it. Beyond smitten, addicted as she was instantly for more of him. Her Master.

One more deep inhale, and he pulled from her body. A brush of his hand down her cheek, he whispered to her. “Go, Lumina.”

She paused for a moment, aching to have to leave. Her gut twisted at the thought of returning to them all… in that place. But she swallowed that feeling back down. “If it pleases you…”

He gave a breathy laugh, reaching for the small blue book before he tossed it into the bed beside her. “Here, take this too. You can return it when I summon you again tonight.”

She knew she must have looked like a foolish girl, face beaming for a second in hope. Knowing she would be back… knowing he would have her again.

“Thank you, my Lord Astarion,” she tried not to sound too giddy.

He just gave a deep, breathless chuckle, rolling that perfect body, hewn from ivory by the gods themselves, back under his covers. “Clean yourself up this time, my little light. I won’t have anything less than perfection from you.”

“Yes, of course, my Lord Astarion,” she preened. Preened from the edge of his bed as she shuffled her little shift back on. As she grabbed for that small leather book to hug against her beautiful breasts. He rolled his back to her, not caring to watch her journey back.

Resting his head in the pillow, he could smell her still. For the briefest flash of a moment, he wished it had been her yielding thighs again beneath his head… No, that was a transgression he had been sure to rectify. He fucked all sentimentality on his part out of her. That book was a boon, a sign of favor that would claim her as his… his favorite. For now.

But as he laid in those damp, silken sheets, he thought of her hair in his fist, her dark eyes at knee-level. And his hand stroked his length again.

Night couldn’t come soon enough once more.

[optimisticgrey]

BG3 POST CANON TAG GAME

Any chance to talk about my favorite girl, you know it, @dearest-and-nearest 😁🫶

come join us (no pressure) @darcydekarios @tociminna @thelittlesorceressbg3 @monowires

(Gale is right - she looks so good, covered in blood)

First of all, who is your char? Are they Tav or Durge? How did the whole adventure changed them?

Celeste is a redeemed Dark Urge. In her past life, she served as the High Priestess of Bhaal for the Baldur’s Gate congregation, a role steeped in blood and cruelty. She abandoned that life, not solely through her own strength, but because of the influence and steadfast presence of the people who chose to walk beside her. She credits them with her change, though they would likely say the strength was always hers.

At her core, Celeste is a kind and gentle soul - traits that had been buried deep, crushed under years of violence and manipulation. Only now are they beginning to surface again, soft and unsure, but undeniably hers.

How were companions' quests completed? Did any of companions died?

Gale - was freed off the orb after handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra. He became a Professor at Blackstaff while Celeste does her own (not entirely wise) things. They married and settled in Waterdeep, long and tearful story (that has to be rewritten)

Shadowheart - freed her parents and settled with them as well every animal that would follow her outside of Haven (former Reithwin). Arnell is the local Cleric and advises Halsin when he is not taking care of Emmeline.

Lae'zel remained a rebel and took the red dragons with her to fight for her course.

Astarion remained a spawn and lives in Baldur's Gate where he entertained himself by killing people for money. He spent time in Waterdeep regularly, surprisingly many people in Waterdeep have needs for his services.

Karlach went to Avernus with Wyll, to find the map to Zariel's forge and get a new heart. This took several years. Afterwards, they settle in Haven and have multiple children.

Jaheira never left Baldur's Gate but remained close with everyone else.

Who did they romance? Where do they and their LI live after game?

In the beginning, she’d slept with with Astarion. Whatever it had been, it softened into deep friendship.

Her heart had always tilted toward Gale, quietly, long before she understood what that pull meant. She hadn’t expected him to feel the same, and when he did,, she was more than surprised.

And then there is Halsin.

Loving him wasn’t a choice. An ache she couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard she tried. That love became the subject of many long and difficult conversations with Gale.

Do they have children or decided to be without them?

Celeste and Gale don’t have children of their own. Celeste knows the orphan children of Waterdeep her well. Gale never questions it. Over time, she gently nudges them toward Haven, to be taken into Halsin's care.

So, about Baldur's Gate! How is it going? Who is in a council? Who (from npcs we met in game) live there?

Never bothered to create this specific headcanon, to be honest. Councellor Florrick and Ulder Ravenguard are alive and well, so I boldly assume they took over the council.

Does your char and companions continue to connect after game or they prefer to not see each other?

All of the time. They meet in Have for most of the festivities and whenever something needs to build there quickly.

Both Celeste and Gale's tower in Waterdeep and a house in Haven provide a safe room for Astarion to rest in during the day.

Did they find any friends among npcs?

Arabella and Yenna went to Haven with Halsin (having nowhere else to go) and Dammon eventually settled in Haven as well, after helping rebuilding Baldur's Gate. (No cute story for Rolan, sorry).

Free question! Any specific headcanons?

Oh, tons of them!

[michanvalentine]

I forced my husband to play Baldur's Gate 3. His Tav is a female tiefling monk. Now, don’t ask me why, but this man first flirted with Astarion until the vampire spawn told him to buzz off. Then he snuck away with Shadowheart for a bottle of wine and a sunrise kiss, only to settle down and start a family with Gale. Setting aside the bizarre path my husband took, I finally got to see firsthand what it’s like to romance the wizard from Waterdeep.

In my own playthroughs, poor Gale has always been sidelined in favor of other romances, even though I didn’t dislike the idea of being with him. The very first time I played, I accidentally ended up with Astarion (while trying to woo Shadowheart, mind you), and Gale was really sad and resentful the next morning. He said something about how maybe he hadn’t been mysterious/charming/talkative enough, and how simply being himself hadn’t been enough to beat out the vampire spawn (trust me, Gale, you don’t want to learn those skills the way Astarion did).

The second time I played, I had a clear plan and went through the adventure as Astarion, romancing Shadowheart first and then Halsin—which was unexpected. The third time, I had another clear goal: I wanted to do an evil run and see what would happen if I helped Astarion ascend (and yes, I regretted it and replayed the ending in a good alignment, lol). In that run, poor Gale never made it out of the portal he was stuck in and ended up losing a hand because of my absolutely awful Bhaalspawn trash character.

Aaaaaanyway, I’m giving you all this context to say that Gale is just the sweetest. Really. He’s so endearing, and honestly, he’d do anything for the person he loves. Actually, he tends to overdo it a bit. The guy seriously needs to have more confidence in himself and stop always being so... available. But what surprised me the most was how quickly and easily he told my husband’s Tav that he loved her. Just like that, pure and simple. I wasn’t expecting it. And that’s when I started to think...

...I thought about why it seemed strange to me, and then I realized it was because of my romance with Astarion. Because for the vampire spawn, the concept of love or a romantic relationship as we understand it— a communion of senses, ideas, feelings, emotions, and goals— is something abstract that no longer fits within his worldview. For him, everything is transactional, tied to dynamics of power. Love is a weapon, both to wound and be wounded, to control or be controlled. It’s probably also something dirty to him after all those years spent luring partners.

He even says that being with someone, any kind of intimacy, dredges up feelings of disgust for him. So unlike Gale, Astarion can’t immediately recognize that feeling for what it is: love, with a capital "L." Instead, it becomes “whatever this thing is between us.” Something undefined, something to be understood. To be discovered, if you will. Because it’s there, but he don't know how decode it, he can’t decode it—he doesn’t have the tools. He lost them along the way. And that’s utterly heartbreaking—200 years without love.

So, thinking back to that pivotal question, What are we to you?, and his awkward response, I feel an overwhelming tenderness. Astarion doesn’t know how to answer. At first, he tries to deflect, playing it off with the allure of mystery: Isn’t it nice not to know? But he feels uncomfortable, inadequate, and beneath the frustration in his tone, you can sense the fear and anxiety of disappointing or even losing Tav/Durge. So he makes an effort, tries to come up with an answer. He rationalizes, stumbles through it, eliminating possibilities: You’re not a target, nor a victim, nor a night best forgotten. He still can’t free himself from the old framework of relationships and intimacy, but he understands that this is different. He just doesn’t know how to define it yet: Then what else could you possibly be?

This gives an idea of how deep Cazador’s imprint is and how much damage two centuries under his control have done. Astarion hasn’t just forgotten his appearance; he’s forgotten the simplicity and naturalness of loving and being loved. And what it means to have a healthy relationship—with himself and with others.

It’s no surprise that, for the most part, he acts like a jerk. And let’s be honest, even after regaining certain concepts, Astarion will always remain an antihero with his wonderful flaws. But that’s part of why we love him, isn’t it?

What’s even more remarkable, though, is when, at the end of his quest, he finally says I love you. It’s not shocking because he says he loves us—we already knew that. The shock comes from the fact that he can finally say it out loud and mean it in the full, conscious sense of the word. Because, once again, our favorite little jerk has grown. Slowly and with great effort, Astarion in Act III has reached the level of understanding and self-awareness that Gale had in Act II. xD

So yes, I went on this absurdly long and roundabout tangent just to say that I absolutely adore Astarion's belated "I love you," without taking anything away from the incredibly sweet Gale. They're both fantastic characters!

[arzen9]

Can I Be Good? Chapter 1: Welcome to the Crimson Palace - Lark

pairing: Astarion/f!Tav | Astarion/f!OC 18+ MDNI word count: 2k tags/warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Not Canon Compliant, Vampire Ascendant Astarion, Redemption, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Mystery, Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Original Female Character summary: Centuries of pain, a ritual, (not) hunger, (not) desire, a lost soul, a search, a yearning, bodies, bodies... And a heart that changes everything.

Finally I am putting the modern AU story I've had in my head for a while out there, I hope it will be as enjoyable to read as it is to write it! I am VERY excited for this story to unravel. I will be updating the tags as the plot progresses.

I will TRY to update on a weekly basis, BUT life can happen!

If you're reading this, I LOVE you<3

I will be making a playlist to go with this story, so keep an eye out for that also!

“They call him…” Wyll pauses for dramatic effect, and downs his shot of tequila. “The Lord of the Night.”

Lark and Lae’zel blink in unison before falling into a fit of giggles. Lark even snorts. 

“Fucking unreal,” she says while she pours another round for all of them. 

“But you are desperate for a job, yes?” Lae’zel asks.

“That I am,” Lark responds and sinks further down the couch. 

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” Wyll tries. “You know people of Baldur’s Gate love to gossip.” 

“We’ll see if it’s a rumor or not, I guess,” she says and reaches for her shot glass. “My interview’s next week.” 

“We need to spice up, as you say, our hang out places,” Lae’zel suddenly interjects. “We always meet in one of our apartments. If we got out more, we would know if this boss of yours was really the lord of the night or not.”

“He’s not my boss yet,” Lark says, squinting her eyes as the tequila makes its way down her throat. “You’re right though.”

Wyll jumps in his seat. “I have an idea.”

The two women eye him in the low light of the room. 

“Why don’t we go see this Crimson Palace for ourselves? A test drive, so to speak.”

“I like it,” Lae’zel says flatly. Lark agrees. 

Because why not? They have never tried going to the most popular nightclub of Baldur’s Gate— owned by one mysterious figure, only seen by those who subscribe to magazines that compile lists for the city’s best dressed, richest, most luxuriously-living— Lark’s potential future boss, Astarion Ancunín. She has done some research online on him, but there doesn’t seem to be much information beyond his physical appearance— a man that looks like he was hand-sculpted by the Gods themselves. Lark had shown some of the pictures she saw online to her friends, garnering mixed reactions.

“Whoa,” Wyll had said, “He does look rich alright. A bit pale, perhaps.”

“He looks breakable,” was Lae’zel’s contribution to the conversation.

And that was that. 

Lark’s job search had been an ongoing process for the past seven months— ever since she graduated with her master’s in poetry. She had known it would be difficult to find a job with a creative degree, but not to this extent. Doing odd jobs at odd hours could only take one so far in life.

So when she saw a listing on a board online for a personal assistant to the owner of the Crimson Palace, she jumped on it; the pay was way too generous for what seemed to be nothing more than a simple assistantship. The job description said the position was temporary with the potential for something more (whatever that meant); there was a winter masquerade party coming up and the big boss needed some help (the listing of course didn’t say big boss, but Lark found it funny to call this sculpture of a man big boss).

  What she wasn’t expecting was to be called in for an interview literally five minutes after submitting her application. It was a woman she talked on the phone to, with a peculiar name— Shadowheart. Lark still wonders if it is some kind of stage name.

They take the subway to the Crimson Palace, all three of them already a little tipsy— clearly not finding anything wrong with going to Lark’s potential workplace to get shitfaced one week before her interview. She doesn’t dwell on it— if she gets rejected, she gets rejected. Nothing new. 

“Helm’s cock,” Wyll exclaims, earning a raised brow from Lae’zel and a squint from Lark, when they get out of the subway train and see the club in the distance. “It is a palace. You know, this place has some history to it. Rumor has it, it was owned by a cruel vampire once.”

“Definitely looks the part,” Lark sneers. “What’s it with you and rumors tonight?”

Lae’zel starts walking ahead of them. “I assumed we are here to drink, not indulge in history lessons,” she says. Wyll and Lark giggle but follow her regardless.

If the Crimson Palace looked grand from the outside, it’s even more so when they enter it: a huge dance floor greets them, the bar lining the left wall. The ceiling is so high that looking up makes Lark’s head turn. On what she assumes to be one of the upper floors, she can see a small balcony, big enough for maybe two people to stand together at once. It is a dizzying place— the tequila they’ve already had combined with the loud, booming music doesn’t help. But they’re here. For an excursion. 

Wyll turns back around to look at the bodyguard that ushered them in with an unusually friendly grin. “She’s beautiful,” he says, voice flat with a sprinkle of awe, as if he’s merely stating a fact. 

“Indeed,” Lae’zel says, making Lark laugh. The red tiefling woman is beautiful, to be fair. Even in the dark atmosphere of the club she looks like a flame, smile warm, eyes like honey. 

Lark decides that this is not Shadowheart. 

Lae’zel is not normally one to dance, but Lark pulls her to the middle of the dance floor anyway. Wyll makes his way to the bar to get drinks, and Lark finds a sappy feeling ruminating in her chest— their friendship has gone beyond asking. They just do, nowadays. 

“Perhaps Wyll’s rumor is true,” Lae’zel screams in her ear. “This palace certainly seems fit to hold vampires.”

“Better watch out for papercuts, then,” Lark jests but her friend doesn’t seem to hear. It matters not. 

They’re having fun. She might get her job next week. Everything is finally looking up.

That line of thought makes her actually look up, just as Wyll arrives with their drinks. Maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s the flash of something silver in the darkness. All Lark knows is that, on the balcony she saw mere moments ago; there is now a man standing. Observing. A king overseeing the execution he ordered. 

Perhaps Wyll’s rumors are getting to Lark’s head, a little bit.

From the balcony, his gaze falls on her; a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The pictures online don’t do him justice, Lark thinks. Even from this distance, he is breathtaking. 

Quite literally, as she has to look away to remember how to breathe. She feels a weird rise of panic bubbling in her chest and frantically looks around to see Lae’zel take a sip from her drink. But Wyll is looking straight at her. 

“…Alright?” Lark can see his mouth move more than just one word, but this is all she catches. She gives him a quick nod before tearing through the crowd— everything suddenly feels too much. She is feeling too much. 

Washing her face will calm her down. If only she knew where the restrooms were. 

Lark just follows whatever space she can create among the drunken crowd, which isn’t much. For what feels like an eternity, she can’t even see where she’s going. 

Until she finds herself free from the smell and noise of everyone around her, off of the dance floor. There are no signs around; only an open arch that leads to a dark hallway, barricaded by thick, velvet ropes hanging from three carefully placed posts. Something tells her that this may not be the way to the restroom— but even in the middle of a panic attack she feels the pull of curiosity lead her down this poorly lit path. 

At the end of the marble-floor corridor she sees a flight of stairs; her feet carry her forward while her heart keeps beating in her ears. She hasn’t had an attack like this in a while. Taking a deep, labored breath, she reminds herself that there is no danger— she is out having fun with her friends. There is no one to take that away from her. Not anymore, at least.

Lark tries to take steady steps ascending the stairs. It is way too dark to be quick. When she reaches the top, she’s faced with another corridor, more marble flooring. Doors line both sides. The closest one to her is slightly ajar, a dim but visible light shining through. 

“West wing ass place,” she mumbles to herself, but carries on. Before entering the room, she looks around. It is eerily quiet here considering the dance floor is just below. Silence spell, perhaps? Closing her eyes, she tries to detect the familiar hum of magic. Nothing. That does give her an idea, though— she doesn’t know why she does it, but before she can dwell on it the word leaves her lips: “Evanesco.”

Now she can snoop around comfortably. The hope of washing her face has all but vanished, replaced with a relentless curiosity eating at her. The vision of the man standing on the balcony seeps again in her mind.

So that is Astarion Ancunín. 

The room she’s found herself in seems to be some sort of storage space— walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books, files and other serious-business looking things. They don’t catch her interest much. She can now see the source of that dim light seeping into the corridor, however— a singular candle stick placed on one of the shelves, as if someone just placed it there. Is this the Crimson Palace’s way of saving on electricity?

Lark peers at the particular shelf, which seems to contain meticulously organized folders, marked with names in alphabetical order. She reaches out and touches one of them— marked Raphael.  Pulling the folder out and peeking inside, she realizes that they’re letters. The first one out of the bunch is dated—

“A little early for your interview, are you not?”

Lark gasps, all sound coming back around her as if her ears had been clogged for days. The sound of music coming from downstairs. People laughing, talking. She loses concentration on the invisibility spell, and as she scrambles to turn around, the folder drops on the floor with a thud.

In front of her is the man she has now seen more than just a handful of times— a bunch in photos and then up on the balcony. Seeing him up close is… different. Everything about his appearance reflects purpose and deliberation, from the curls of his silver hair to the dangerous upwards angle of his lips. He’s wearing black from head to toe and for a second, forgetting what is actually happening, Lark thinks she’s never seen someone so perfect before.

“How did you—”

He gathers his arms behind him and looks down at Lark, crimson eyes in search of something she cannot fathom.

But then it hits her— the hum, the pull.

He’s trying to read her mind. 

Lark feels bad for him, only if for a second. He doesn’t know who she is.

She expertly blocks his spell, darkened eyes waiting for the disappointment on his face. It doesn’t appear.

“I believe you have lost your way,” he says with another plastic smile. He seems to be keeping his lips tightly closed on purpose. “Shall I escort you out?”

“I was just looking for the restroom.”

They look at each other, both knowing fully well that this is a lie. He doesn’t push.

“You might come to regret sneaking around like this if I decide to count this as our first official meeting.” 

There is danger in his eyes, but it doesn’t quite reach the amused tug of his mouth. Lark backs away from him, then steps to the side. His gaze follows her every move. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. It’s a miracle she can find her voice in this moment. The intensity of those garnet eyes is not something magazine cover photos can capture. 

As she leaves the room, almost running, Lark keeps her head down. That panic in her chest is back— or— is it excitement?

The last thing Astarion Ancunín tells her before she is once again lost among the crowds is full of expectations, his voice silkier than whatever can be found in Cormyr.

“I look forward to seeing you next week, Miss Promise.”

taglist: @nerdalmighty @preciouslittlebhaalbae @aristenfromwarsaw

If you would like to be added to my taglist, please send me a message or reply here!<3

[candyk0rn]

hi hi hi!! i just read your bg3 headcannons and the way you write astarion and gale is so on brand!! i love the way you write! its a follow for me :> my older sister is the one who is into bg3 (i only know basically everything due to her rambles LMAO) and i read them out loud with her listening while she did her laundry and she loved them sm! thanks for being the source of my sister's serotonin

i also saw that your requests are open, and my older sister would like to make a request :)) she was wondering if you could write wedding planning/wedding ceremony headcannons for the characters?! She was so sad she didn't get to see any wedding related scenes with Gale after the game events ;-;

Wedding preparations-BG3

I’m literally going to cry that’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me 😭 I’m so happy your sister and yourself like my writing so much, it gives me so so so much joy that you both enjoy it. Also I agree, Larian Studios should add a wedding dlc or something 🙏🏻 (Also since you weren’t exactly specific, I’ll do Astarion and Gale because it sounds like those are your favs!!)

Before reading: Fluff, gn reader, Astarion x reader, Gale x reader

Astarion:

After his journey with you and the other companions, he’s sure that he wants to spend eternity with you

He’s never thought of romance, he wasn’t able to when he was a slave to Cazador

But now that he’s free, and now that he’s with you, he’s sure that he shall never love again if he loses you

You’re the one who has to actually bring up the thought of marriage,

He knows he will forever stay with you wether you marry or not

He lets you do all of the planning, as long as he gets to pick the guests

He doesn’t want anything too extravagant, shockingly

Just you, your eternal bond, and your closest companions

That’s all he really wants for a ceremony

He doesn’t ask for much, because he’s never put any thought on marriage or anything like that

He asks you if it’s alright to take your surname, for he wishes to part with his old life and start anew with you at his side

Planning is easy with him around, but expect him to jokingly complain here and there lol

Gale:

Bro has never been more sure of anything in his life

He wanted to marry you the moment he laid his eyes on you

After your long, dangerous journey rehearsing the Absolute, he makes it his mission to propose to you

He just wants to take you back to Waterdeep, have you meet his mother, and finally settle down

He’s been through so much, a comfortable life with you would have him die a happy man

When it comes to the actual planning, he would like to keep everything equal

As long as you agree with everything, he’s happy. (and vice versa)

Like Astarion, he doesn’t want anything over the top or extremely fancy

A simple, fun wedding with the traditional dancing and close friends and family is all he really wants in a ceremony like this one

Also you cannot convince me he doesn’t bring Tara (his cat) to the wedding omg

He just wants to make this day special for the both of you

It’s a day he shall never forget, after all

Thanks for reading!

[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Five

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You)

Word Count: 4900 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT), masturbation (a bit), voyeurism (a bit).

WARNING: SELF-HARMING BEHAVIOUR (to feed Astarion), knives.

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content)

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A/N: PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION, CONTAINS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT, LOVELIES!!! XXX

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Chapter Five - Syrup

This morning’s spread isn’t as luxurious as yesterday’s, but you’re putting in all the effort you can. There’s an art to porridge, simple to make, difficult to maste- Okay, it’s porridge… But it does taste surprisingly good considering the lack of resources. Various chopped fruit and berries that you harvested from nearby bushes adorn the top of each bowl. Each one identical and artistic, aside from Karlach’s portion which is arranged in a smiley face. You think she’d like that. You lay the bowls out for the group to pick up in their own time. Then you clean the knife you used for the fruit and hover your wrist over a cup. The knife rests against your skin and… You hesitate. It’s okay, you take a deep breath and try again… You hesitate. “Guh!” You exclaim, jumping, jogging and huffing on the spot.

Okay Tav. You got this. It’s just a little cut. It’ll only hurt for a moment. Come on. Don’t be a coward. Let’s go in three… Two… One!

… You hesitate…

But you push through! Slicing your skin, dripping the scarlet contents of your wrist into the cup until it is full.

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow…

You grab a cloth and wrap it around your wrist, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. Holding it away from your new shirt, you promptly replace it with a bandage and sigh. You continue to clean the station as the others emerge from their tents and take their bowls with thanks. Lae’zel doesn’t thank you, but you expected that. Each companion spots the cup of blood, but doesn't say anything. Karlach takes her bowl, thanks you whilst giggling at the design before rushing over to Shadowheart to, no doubt, gossip about the blood-filled cup. Gale is the only one who comments.

“Ah, I see you’ve discovered Astarion’s little secret?” In truth, you’re thankful that someone actually said something so you could explain yourself. You nod, smiling. “I’m just happy he wasn’t skipping meals because he was turned off by my cooking.” You chuckle.

“I hope you found out in a more… Appropriate way than we did.” He searches your neck for any injuries.

You gasp. “He didn’t…?”

“He certainly tried. I woke up to his teeth grazing my neck… But once I sent a mild shock of lightning through him, we seemed to understand each other.” You both laugh.

“Well, he just told me. From a safe distance.” Gale watches you giggle, still smiling.

You look at each other for a little longer than is comfortable before he catches himself. “Oh-er- Thank you for breakfast.” He holds up his bowl and walks over to the rest of the group.

Last but not least, Astarion leaves his tent, he revels in the feeling of sunlight on his pale skin as he stretches. He spots you: cleaning and unaware of his presence. You don’t clean gracefully, but brutally. You wrestle with a particularly stubborn spot on the makeshift counter, eyes wild with determination. His eyebrow raises, grinning at the sight before making his way over to you. His movement stutters when he spots the cup, pleasantly surprised to see it there. The closer he gets, the stronger he can smell it, smell you. Resting one hand on the counter and his weight on one hip, he makes a strong and successful effort to pull his eyes away from his gift and onto you. “For me?” At the sound of his voice, you untuck your lips and un-crinkle your nose, leaving the spot alone to see him for the first time today.

Last night ended a little abruptly. Once you noticed he was staring at your lips, you had turned away. You weren’t willing to give him that much. He didn’t say anything about it, but you could tell he was a little frustrated, mostly confused. You had been flirting all night, so why not? You still don’t know and you aren’t ready to look at that yet. But that didn’t stop you from staying up, worrying about how awkward it would be the next morning.

Your grin matches his before you decide to test the waters. “Oh no, that’s Wyll’s, he’s going through a phase.”

A light giggle escapes Astarion’s lips. “That is a shame, now we’re going to have to fight for it.” You smile, shaking your head.

Good… Back to normal…

“Well, hurry up then. Because you took your sweet time, it’s going cold.” He smirks and takes it in his hand, delighted that he can still feel warmth through the metal. He begins to walk away. “Oh no, no, no. You’re not going anywhere until I know how I taste.” He stops and spins around quickly, his grin somehow even wider. You adjust your position, bending over, elbows resting on the counter, one arm lying flat, the other propping up your head under your chin. You raise an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”

“Who’s the freak now?” He taunts.

“Uhuh, enough talking, more drinking.” You say playfully, gently pushing the bottom of the cup up, towards his face.

His eyes: animalistic, as the scent grows stronger. He chuckles a little before breathing it in, deeply. As he exhales, a groan threatens to escape, but he catches it in his throat when he sees your eager eyes in the corner of his vision. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. He presses the rim against his lips and hesitates before taking a sip… Which turns into a gulp… Which turns into a chug... The cup is empty, yet still upside down, his mouth still wide open, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids, desperately trying to yield more from it. He admits defeat as no more drops will fall and stares, downcast, into the emptiness. The memory of your taste still dances on his tongue: rich, nutty, buttery syrup. He wipes his teeth clean with his tongue, savouring every smear of red he can find. “Very eager…” Your voice breaks his hypnosis, he clears his throat and regains some control over his body, ensuring the counter hides his bottom half. You giggle, his efforts of concealment flying under your radar. “I’d say that’s a very good sign... So, full review?” Your cheeks begin to ache from your constant smirking, but there’s no stopping it, his reaction was truly delicious.

He sighs, happily. “That… That was amazing…” You sit up to meet him on his level, arms supporting your upper body. Meeting your eyes with his, he licks his lips.

“Good, I take it you’d like to continue with our arrangement then?” He nods. “In that case, you can expect another cup for dinner.”

“Dinner…” He thinks to himself. “Dinner is so far away…” His gaze passes your face and finds the blood-soaked cloth on the table behind you. Saliva begins to rapidly fill his mouth. Then the bandaged cut on your arm grabs his attention: a spot of red, peaking through the white. If he had it his way, he’d drain you entirely, right here, right now. But that wouldn’t be wise, you’re offering this to him, he needs to play by your rules if he wants to keep his new, continuous food source. And he knows it. Plus, he’d miss your company. You feel the danger under his stare.

“Don’t start getting greedy now. One cup per meal, remember?” He swallows before engaging with you again.

“Of course, not one drop more…” He grins, flirtatiously.

“And what do we say…?” You gesture with your hand, expectantly. You love this. He scoffs but when he realises you aren’t letting up, he sighs dramatically, blowing a curl of his hair into the air. “Ugh… Thank you…” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell his gratitude is genuine. You smile triumphantly and take a bite of your own breakfast before turning around, ready to multitask eating and cleaning. Astarion stands there for a minute, looking at anything but you in order to calm himself down. Once he succeeds, he turns around to find every companion staring at him with very, very wide grins. You just beat him at his own game, and everyone saw it.

“Not. A. Word.” He commands, causing scattered giggles to emerge from the group. He adjusts his shirt and storms off into his tent to get ready for the day.

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Once everyone is finished, it’s once again time for everyone to armour up. You notice Karlach struggling with her straps and walk over, offering a helping hand. “Aw… Thanks soldier…” She seems sad when she sees you.

“Don’t mention it… Are you alright?” You ask as you dodge the hot metal of her armour.

“Me? I’m more worried about you! Last night, I-”

“I know. And it’s okay. Really… Astarion told me about your heart… It must be hard, not to be able to touch people…” Her knitted brows relax and she chuckles softly.

“It’s awful… Maybe I’ll tell you the full, long story sometime soon, but the short version? I was betrayed by someone I cared about… Someone I trusted… I was given to Zariel and I became her personal attack dog. She took my heart and stuck this damned engine in it’s place. I spent a decade trying to escape… But, thanks to this mindflayer bullshit, here I am!”

Zariel, you recognise the name, the Archdevil of Avernus.

You finish the last knot and step back to look her in the eyes. There’s no tears, but a deep sorrow, still.“I’m so, so sorry Karlach, I can’t even imagine…” Her mouth becomes a smile, but her eyes don’t match up. She tuts.

“Hey, come on, I’m here now! I’m free! I might be burning hotter than a furnace but I’m free!” When she speaks the word ‘free’, her eyes finally catch up and her whole face lights up. You sigh, then smile at her.

“How I wish I could hug you…” You look at each other for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then you have an idea as you spot a stuffed toy bear on the floor. You hold it up.

“Ah, Clive, meet Tav. Tav, Clive.” You laugh and squeeze the bear tightly, rocking with him in your arms. Once the ‘energy has been transferred’, you hold him up for Karlach, posing him so his arms are outstretched. Once she realises what you’re suggesting, you swear you see tears filling her eyes but she shuts them quickly as she takes Clive from you. She holds him close, rocking. She sighs and mouths a ‘thank you’ to you. She finds it difficult to pull away from your indirect embrace, but does so anyway, still smiling at the gesture.

She turns her attention to the rest of the group. “Right gang, let’s go smash some skulls!” Her and the rest of your companions gather and head off together. You wave them off, smiling.

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Last night’s party left quite a list of chores for you today. Certainly not the worst mess you’ve ever had to clean, but it’s pushing it. You work through the camp, humming sweet sounding melodies to yourself as you do. The laundry basket quickly fills with wine soaked rags and clothing. You set it aside to gather the empty wine bottles in a neat formation, ready to be washed and reused for potions. Occasionally you stumble into lost trinkets and jewellery you don’t recognise before shrugging and adding them to the camp inventory. Once the camp begins to look somewhat presentable, you turn your attention to the food station, examining the current and limited ingredients.

Tonight’s meal: Butternut squash pie.

You fold the raw pastry, time and time again. Beautiful layers rest and expand with each waiting period. The squash is well seasoned, roasted over the fire. Onions left to caramelise for as long as possible whilst you assemble the well worked pastry in a greased tin. Once the filling is complete, you take the time to cover it with an intricate pattern, strategic holes poking through pastry petals. Braided crust containing the treasures within. A savoury, sweet concoction all wrapped up and adorned with some of your best work, ready to be baked.

Sinking the basket of laundry into your hip, you make your way to the lake. It’s there that you flick through clothing, separating them neatly and guiding them into the water. As you target smears of red on a ruffled, white shirt, you notice a tear. Along the hem, it sags, revealing a hole, surrounded by torn thread. After doing all you can to cleanse it, you hang the shirt to dry in the sun. It makes quick work of it and once you’ve finished the rest of your task, it is dry.

Sitting with your back against a tree, you drape the fabric over your lap, a small, sharp fish bone in hand. You reflect on your lie as you’re faced with the daunting task ahead of you.

Shit. Why did I say I could sew?!

Hesitantly, you pierce the soft material with a mess of knotted, red thread following the fish bone’s path. You weave and knot it further, leaving messy kinks and bulging mistakes. It doesn’t look great. But, you suppose, fashion is hardly the party’s biggest concern. You hold your pitiful attempt at the sunlight to inspect it. It really doesn’t look good. Alas, it will have to do.

Soon after you’ve folded and distributed the fresh laundry to each tent, the midday drop off arrives. This time, it’s Shadowheart, carrying a bulging backpack as though it weighs nothing. You give a welcoming smile that she doesn’t reciprocate. “Here, this is everything so far…” She plonks the pack on the floor, creating a small dust cloud and a loud thunk.

“Thank you, I’ll sort through it in a moment.” You continue, expecting the sound of distancing footsteps, but there are none. You look up again to find her still standing there. She seems awkward, anxious, her hands intertwining and parting. Puzzled, you ask “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She glances at you. “I…” she begins “I just wanted you to know that I’m… Happy… For you.” The words sound pained, reluctant, a desperate grasp at grace.

“Oh?”

“I saw you earlier, with Karlach.” She pauses. “You’re… A good fit. I think.” You raise an eyebrow as her sour expression becomes clear to you.

She’s jealous.

“Shadowheart, I-” You’re interrupted by a defensive tone.

“Just remember, she has friends. Lots of friends. Understood?” Her inner conflict pushes spite in her threat, making it panicked but firm.

“Shadowheart-”

“I’ll spell it out for you. Hurt her and die by my hand.” She grabs the handle of the mace secured to her hip, just to emphasise the point.

“Shadowheart!” She finally shuts up and lets you speak. “We’re friends. That’s it. Don’t get me wrong, she’s wonderful, but that's just not the nature of our relationship.” There’s a long silence as red slowly creeps onto Shadowheart’s cheeks.

“Oh… I see…” Her embarrassment cannot hide the beginnings of a smile.

“You like her.” You smirk.

“I- What?! I- Don’t be ridiculous!” Her flushed face panics, wide eyed at the accusation.

“You like, like her.”

“I-...” She waits for your cackles to end, unamused. “Alright! Yes, I do…” A deep, sorrowful sigh falls from her mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m… A cleric of Shar.” She caresses her hand, comforting a small, dark wound. “I have a mission from my cloister and I intend to follow it through, as I have with so many others, but… My devotion leaves little room for… ‘Recreational activities’. Let alone a relationship.” You try to show her your most understanding smile. She seems to soften her edges a little and looks… Sad.

“Well, considering Karlach can’t touch you, I doubt many ‘recreational activities’ would be on the table, anyway.” 

“Oh, I think we could work around it…” She smirks, it seems that she’s thought about the logistics before. You chuckle.

“Surely you have more time now than ever, since being on the road. You could die tomorrow, why not see where it goes for now? What’s the harm?”

She pauses. “Well… I imagine we’ll all split ways once we’re cured, so the distraction shouldn’t linger for much longer than that… Alright, I’ll consider it. I suppose there’s no harm in having a little fun in the midst of all the chaos.” She looks around as you try to hide your smile, so as not to embarrass her. They truly would make an adorable couple.

“And what about you?” She not so subtly segways, moving the attention away from herself.

“What about me?” You almost scoff at the suggestion.

“I’d rather not pretend you haven’t attracted some… Attention. If that’s alright with you?” She says firmly, hand on hip. This time, you do scoff. But not because you don’t believe her, but at the thought of actually committing to any of the potential suitors before you.

“Mmm, yes. I’ve noticed Lae’zel flirting with me too.” A successful attempt to dismiss this topic? Maybe?

“Very funny, but we both know what I mean.” You smirk and shrug. She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I won’t press you.” The smirk turns into a smile, you nod, gratefully. “I should head back, we’ll be back at sundown. See you then.” She disappears down the path, you breathe a sigh before continuing your list of chores.

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It’s getting close to sundown, you cover the pie in the tin and leave it over the fire to bake so that when the group arrives, the smell will find them. Hovering your wrist over the cup feels less daunting this time. You’ve decided to reopen the wound from earlier, as painful as that may be, you don’t want any further scarring on your arm. And so you do just that. The cup is filled and placed on the counter as you hear familiar voices nearing the camp. You watch and wait for them to enter. Astarion arrives first with the rest following distantly behind. He must have rushed ahead. His armour is a deep leather, layered over a black, ruffled undershirt; paired with matching leather pants and extra padding on the knees. It’s lightweight and well fitted to his lean body. There’s blood splattered all over him, adding crimson streaks throughout his otherwise perfectly styled, silver hair. His confident posture suggests that the blood is, thankfully, not his.

Must have been an eventful day…

He looks around and finds you, he grins. You smile and nod your head in greeting. He takes this as an invitation to move closer, trying to ignore the tantalising smell emanating from the cup. “Hello, darling.” He moves behind the counter to get closer to you, resting his elbow on it. You turn to face him, hand on hip.

“Hello, Astarion. Busy day?” You gesture to the state of his apparel.

“Always.” He smirks. The voices grow louder, there are excitable squeals, thumping footsteps and… A bark?

Karlach bursts in with a white-furred, four legged friend following closely behind. She’s holding a bone over her head as the dog jumps at her, playfully. She trips and falls over, giggling as the dog chases the, now flying, bone across the camp and catches it in the air. “Good boy Scratch! Who’s a good boy? Who’s the bestest boy?!” She stands and the mouthwatering smell of dinner fills her nostrils. “Gods…” She turns to you. “Tav! We have a dog! Meet Scratch!” You turn to Astarion with a questioning look.

“Ugh, as you said: ‘Busy day’.” He responds.

“I can see that.” You laugh as the rest of the group enters at a more leisurely pace, the smell of dinner hits them too. Gale practically moans at the scent.

“Tav, you’re putting my humble stew to shame, time and time again.” He says, smiling warmly at you. “Thank you, but you haven’t actually tasted it yet so please try to reduce your expectations for me.” You laugh. You feel Astarion move a little closer whilst you aren’t looking.

“And that is something, I simply cannot wait for. Is it almost ready?” Gale moves towards the pot on the fire.

“Hmm, let me check.” You move past Astarion who watches you leave his side with a slight annoyance at the intrusion on your conversation. You open the pot, allowing the steam to escape before bending over and inspecting the crust with Gale looking over your… ‘Shoulder.’ Well… He’s looking at something… 

Without looking, you reach your hand out behind you. “Could you pass me the-” A rag is placed in your hand before you can finish asking Gale for it. You look back to see Astarion, cup in one hand, towel in the other, standing over you. “Oh, thank you.” You say in slight surprise.

“No, thank you my dear.” He says, tapping his finger on the cup before walking past Gale to sit by the fire. You fold the rag and use it to lift the pot and place it on the counter. You shimmy the pie out and begin slicing it, revealing the glistening, rust coloured interior. You place a slice on each plate and hand them out, receiving the usual thank yous and none thank yous.

Scratch sniffs your legs and sits in your way, waiting patiently. “Uh… Hi, Scratch…” You look at him, awkwardly. His tongue just lolls out of his mouth as he tilts his head in response. “Um… What do you want? What does it want?” You turn to Wyll, hoping he can read this creature’s mind. He chuckles. “I think he’s hungry.”

“Oh…” You scan your brain for the little information you know about dogs. Meat, they eat meat.

“Never had a pet before, Tav?” He asks, amused at your awkwardness in front of a dog, of all things.

“Uh, no. Never seemed like my kind of thing.” You make your way to the food storage, now refilled with bits and bobs from their journey. You take a string of sausages, pull a few off and slowly put them in front of Scratch, yanking your arm away for fear of biting.

Wyll laughs at the sight. “It’s alright Tav, he seems well trained. Look, he’s not even touching it yet.” Scratch whines at the sausages on the floor, awaiting your command.

“Er-Go ahead, Scratch.” You say casually. He doesn’t seem to understand and stays still. You roll your eyes and make a gesture to him, urging him to eat. He pieces it together and pants excitedly before tucking in.

Taking your own plate, you walk back towards the fire and look around to find an empty spot. Each log is big enough for two and most are full. Wyll and Lae’zel are sharing grand battle stories with Lae’zel being not-so-subtle about her attraction to him, making him blush aggressively. Shadowheart and Karlach are deep in conversation, Karlach seems to be unable to take her eyes off of her as she speaks passionately about her love for night orchids. Astarion had tried to sit alone to enjoy his ‘dinner’ in peace, but that didn’t last long as Gale decided to shuffle over and talk his ear off about some theory he had about something or other. As much as you like Gale, even you’re starting to get bored. But, you can’t help but smile as you quietly decide to sit alone, on an empty log to enjoy your pie in the atmosphere of sweet conversations around you. Taking a deep breath, you feel grateful that you get to experience this. That you get to enjoy these peoples’ company. Friends aren't something you’re used to, any friend you had, you had to lose. But not now.

You feel… Safe... Mostly…

Basking in the moment, you look around and notice Astarion stand up and excuse himself, cup still in hand, he enters his tent. Presumably to get away from Gale’s ramblings. Everyone finishes their meal and you gather the plates. You need to wash Astarion’s cup. You set the plates aside and head towards his tent in search of the missing vessel. You begin to call out to him but then you hear something. You swear it was a grunt. Thinking nothing of it, you go to speak again. But stop. This time, you’re sure it was a groan. The whisper of a “Fuck…” followed by quick breaths.

Is he? No way…

There’s a gap in the fabric, candlelight inviting your gaze. You shouldn’t. You know that. But in your mind, you can see what you can’t see, and you have to know if you’re right. Just a passing glance, one moment to confirm your suspicions and that will be all… You lean in…

His back is facing you, one hand encouraging the flow of liquid from the tilted cup. Head tipping back, just far enough for your eyes to gather that his brows are knitted. His right arm seems to be wrapped around something in his lap, his hand peeking out from the left of his waist. You begin to pull away, your vision gaining one more vital piece of information as you do: The rocking of his hips.

You take a deep breath, grinning. You choose a nonchalant approach when you call his name: “Astarion?”

A rapid fumbling can be heard from inside. “Er- Just a minute!” You’re desperately trying to hold back laughter as he pokes his head out, your blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. “Yes?” You follow the stream as it drips from his chin.

“Cup?” You hold your hand out.

“Ah, y-yes, of course. Wait here.” He dips back into his tent and retrieves it.

“Thank you.” You take it and begin to turn away… But you can’t help yourself, this is too good of an opportunity to make him sweat. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Hm? What? N-no. Why?”

“Oh, you just sounded like you were struggling with something.” You look directly into his eyes with a mischievous grin. He coughs and clears his throat, his pale cheeks becoming tinged with the slightest blush. “But, if you’re sure…” You shrug nonchalantly and begin to walk away, stifling further giggles. You turn your attention to him once more, gesturing to your own chin. “Oh, and you have a little something. Right here.” He immediately wipes it away with his hand and squints at you, clearly irritated by your teasing. That doesn’t stop you from snorting with laughter as you make your way to the rest of the dishes.

You start washing the dishes and by the time you're finished, Astarion emerges from his tent, no longer wearing armour and adjusting his shirt. You make eye contact as you remove your apron, let down your hair, shake it out with your hand and sigh at the relief. He definitely isn’t over it, it’s clear in the way confidently saunters over to you, in a desperate attempt to maintain his pride.

Nice try…

“So, how was it?” You ask with the widest of grins.

He scoffs and folds his arms. “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard, but-”

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m just asking how your dinner was.” You wink.

“Of course you are.” He rolls his eyes, then smirks at you. You take two cups from behind you and fill them with wine. “I’m sorry for teasing. Peace offering?” You hold a cup out for him. He grazes your hand as he takes it from you, without hesitation.

“I accept. But, surely you can do better than this, darling.” He flashes his eyes at you, grinning, anticipating your next move.

“Hmm, how about this? Oh, my lord! I beg your forgiveness!” You twirl dramatically, feigning devotion. “Tell me, your majesty, is there anything a lowly subject such as myself can do to earn your mercy?” You take his hand and kneel before him.

He laughs at the display. “I could get used to this.” He takes a sip of his wine. “Fine, I forgive you. Get up.”

“Oh thank you, sweet, merciful lord!” You plant several tiny kisses on his cold knuckles. He doesn’t stop you, enjoying your warmth on his skin.

He chuckles and helps you up. You use your free hand to brace yourself on his chest, regaining your balance. Looking up at him, he smiles, warmly, at you. You smile back. As you remove your hand and pull away to sip your wine, you realise it’s wet. You look at your crimson coated palm, then his bloody shirt. “Um… Ew.” You wipe it on his sleeve. “Do I even want to know where all this came from?”

He raises an eyebrow at your squeamish display, grinning. “I’ll tell you if you come and sit with me.” He gestures towards the lake and as you turn to see it, he moves closer to your ear and whispers: “It’s quite the story.” His breath tickles and sends a shiver down your spine.

You clear your throat and find the wine bottle with your free hand. “Well, in that case…” You wink and begin to head to the lake. Astarion follows closely behind, shooting a smug smirk towards Gale, who was watching the entire interaction from the corner of his eye.

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[lets-just-daydream]

I Loved You First

Chapter 3: It's Not That Simple

Part 1 | Part 2

The days at Szarr Palace ticked by as more staff hurried around the place preparing for the big party. Even when you had left the grounds to wander the shops in the city it seemed that all anyone could talk about was the big party that Cazador Szarr was throwing. Anyone who was anyone was invited and expected to be in attendance. Even politicians which the thought of utterly terrified you. You knew Cazador was an important and well-known figure in the city but admittedly, you hadn’t realised how important and influential he was. Now you truly understood why your parents were so eager for you to marry him. 

You’d be living in the lap of luxury by the side of one of the most important men in the city. The thought should fill you with hope and excitement, any lady would probably kill to be in your position but you just didn’t feel the excitement. Perhaps you were doomed to a marriage with a man you hardly knew and didn’t really like. You certainly wouldn’t be the first and you wouldn’t be the last. At least he had the assets to ensure more than just your comfort. 

Another thing on your mind was Astarion. You had grown accustomed to seeing him and even dared to hope he’d be in your path as you wandered through the palace. But no such luck. You hadn’t seen him in days. It was the night before the party and as you prepared for a bath, someone knocked on your door. You approached and cracked it open to see Violet standing there. 

“Good evening, my lady,” she greeted. “You rang for a bath?”

“I did,” you said, stepping aside to let her in. “If you could teach me how to fill the bath, I wouldn’t have to ring for you, you know.”

Violet let out an airy chuckle as she fiddled around in the bathroom. “Please, I have no qualms about coming to your call. And Mas- Lord Cazador would not appreciate his future wife doing so.”

You gulped at her blase title for you. “H-His future wife?”

Sure you knew he might propose to you but the casual nature in which she spoke… Had Cazador already made up his mind? Your heart rate increased and as if she had known, Violet approached and sat you down on the edge of the bed. 

“Are you alright? I didn’t mean to upset you, my lady,” she said, panicking slightly. 

“No, no,” you comforted her. “You haven’t done anything of the sort I just… Well the idea of getting married is a little scary,” you explained, omitting some of the truth. “And I wasn’t entirely sure of Lord Cazador’s intentions, yet.”

Violet nodded in understanding. “I’m not sure of his intentions, either. I’m just a bit of a romantic and I do love weddings, so I’m hoping for the best,” she said with a sincere smile.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from your lips. “I’m a bit of a romantic, too,” you confessed. You reached across to the nightstand and picked up the book you’d meant to continue reading. “I’ve picked a romance book from the library and I hope to finish it soon.”

Violet nodded and stepped away to continue getting your bath ready. As she did so, you turned the book in your hands and recalled Astarion showing you to the library and your heart sank slightly.

“Violet?” You asked, putting the book down and stepping to the bathroom. “I haven’t seen Astarion around the past few days.”

You watched as Violet paused for a moment, her long ears twitching before she finished the bath and stood to face you. 

“Is he… alright?” You asked, hesitating. Violet bit her lip and looked anywhere but at you, and in her hesitation you began to worry. “Violet?”

She cleared her throat and she opened her mouth to speak before clamping shut again. “I’m so sorry, I have work to attend to.” 

Violet brushed past you without another word and closed the door as she departed. You stared at the closed door with furrowed brows and bit your lip. Well now you were truly worried after the pale elf, you hadn’t seen him in days and Violet’s reaction to your question began a storm in your mind. You wondered where he was, if he was okay and if he needed help. Maybe Cazador had fired him and now he was homeless and destitute. You stepped into the bath as you continued worrying. You would ask Cazador tomorrow if he knew where Astarion was and maybe he could put your mind at ease. 

As much as you didn’t love Cazador’s company, he was still very kind to you and made countless accommodations for you. You’d mentioned one of your favourite foods and it was suddenly featured in every night’s dinner. You had offhandedly mentioned your neck was sore and an assortment of new pillows were on your bed the next day for you to try. He had even started serving breakfast a little later in the morning since he noticed you slept in a little in the mornings. 

“A woman after my own heart,” he had said. “I’m also a late riser.” He had then given you a genuine smile and you couldn’t help but notice his sharp canines when he bared his teeth. You recalled noticing Astation’s sharp teeth as well and only offered him a smile in return, your thoughts turning non-stop even till now.

You had noticed these small oddities but you didn’t know what they meant. Cazador didn’t seem like he was running a cult, he was too high-profile for that. But you couldn’t figure it out. Maybe he was just a strange man with particular tastes. You supposed that if you did end up marrying him, he would eventually feel comfortable enough around you to open up. 

You finished your bath and dried off, opening your closet to find your sleep clothes. You saw your dress for the party hung up and your stomach churned. In all the weird happenings and wondering where Astarion was, you’d almost forgotten about the party tomorrow evening. You grimaced as you dressed for bed, certainly not ready and not looking forward to what tomorrow would bring. 

You awoke the following morning with a yawn and stretch. You heard the pitter patter of rain on the window and you leapt out of bed to open the curtains. It certainly looked dreary outside with not a sliver of sun to be seen. Gods, this was perfect weather to read but you knew you’d be spending the day preparing for the party tonight. You dressed in a day dress and left the room to join everyone for breakfast. The halls were aflutter with activity and chatter as flowers were placed, silverware was polished and cleaning done. It seemed even the servants were looking forward to the party which brought a smile to your face. You entered the dining room and were surprised to see the curtains all open, the rain streaked windows displaying the wet weather outside. 

“Good morning, darling,” your father greeted. 

“Morning,” you said cheerily. 

Cazador stood and nodded his head to you. “Good morning, you seem to be in cheery spirits this morning.”

You blushed slightly. “I guess the atmosphere of everyone preparing for this evening is a little contagious.”

Your mother sat up straight and looked at you. “You’re looking forward to the party? Oh, how perfect.”

You glanced back at Cazador and offered a shy smile and a small shrug which caused him to chuckle slightly. He pulled your seat out for you as he always did and you began eating, a servant coming and filling your glass with juice. 

“Thank you,” you turned and said when you gasped and saw Astarion beside you. “Astarion!”

The pale elf froze and looked shocked. As did your parents and Cazador, the latter squinting at you and staring at Astarion unbeknownst to you. You nearly gasped again when you saw his skin looked slightly bruised and sallow.

“Where have you been? You don't… look too well. Are you alright?”

Astarion stood stock-still as his eyes flicked quickly to Cazador. He looked slightly fearful, panicked almost. 

Cazador cleared his throat beside you. “He’s been outside the city gathering some things for tonight. And you know how rowdy taverns in the outskirts in the city can be. What kind of man doesn’t get into a fist-fight here and there?” 

Your father grunted his gruff approval at this and continued eating.

You turned to Cazador who was staring intently at Astarion with a very unpleasant expression on his face. You pressed your lips together and looked down at your lap. You suddenly recalled the conversation when Astarion pulled you aside and said your questions were dangerous and to stop worrying about him. Now you feared you had got him into trouble. 

“I see,” you simply said, trying to diffuse the tension. “A-anyway, I am looking forward to the party tonight, my lord.”

Cazador’s expression forcibly softened as he turned his attention to you. “I’m very glad to hear it. In fact, I wondered if you might join me for a walk in the garden after breakfast.”

You glanced at the windows to the rainy weather. “Um, alright,” you hesitated. 

“Not to worry, I have parasols to shield us from the elements,” Cazador smiled. 

You let out a small laugh. Whether it was a nervous laugh or a genuine one, you weren’t sure. “Alright.”

You finished eating, noting that Cazador had hardly touched his plate just like every meal he ever joined you for. He stood and offered you his arm which you took as he led you outside, parasol in hand. 

“Do you not have much of an appetite, my lord?” You asked as you stepped outside. 

Cazador looked at you with a raised brow. 

“I only ask since I noticed you don’t eat much or at all when we sit for our meals,” you continued. 

“You sweet little thing,” he complimented. “I don’t usually eat much at meal times since I tend to eat when I’m busy with my work. The servants bring me plenty of meals, so don’t you worry. 

You nodded as you continued your walk together, the parasol doing a good job to keep you dry. 

“It’s nice that we’re out for a walk,” you began. “But forgive me, my lord, why are we out when it’s raining.”

Cazador smiled. “Well with the party tonight, I finally have some time for leisure as I’ve put my work aside for the day. To spend it with you.”

Your cheeks flushed and you said nothing. 

“I do apologise for being so absent. My work is… quite taxing and as much as I would love to lavish you with attention all day, I have many important tasks on my plate.”

“I understand,” you said. “You’re a busy and important man. I don’t hold it against you, my lord.”

Cazador stopped and took your free hand in his, raising it to his lips and brushing his lips against your skin. “I love how understanding you are, dear angel.”

Your heart stuttered at the term of endearment. “Of course, my lord.”

He certainly was busy with his work and didn’t give you his attention at all hours of the day but he had his romantic moments when he did give you his attention. If he showered you with enough affection you might eventually grow to like him. But that thought put a damper on your spirits because it wasn’t Cazador’s affections you sought. 

You completed your walk and he bowed slightly. Unnecessary given his standing but a gesture nonetheless that didn’t go unnoticed by you or your parents who had been waiting for you to come back and tell them everything about your little turn about the garden. 

Your mother practically squealed like a schoolgirl in love when you explained what had happened between you and Cazador. She turned to your father. “Oh, darling I’m certain he’ll propose by next week’s end.”

“That soon?” You gasped. 

“Marriages have happened quicker than that, especially in noble families,” your father said. 

“But…” You lowered your voice. “What if I don’t want to marry him?”

Your mother rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “For heaven’s sake child, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. This is your duty, whether you like it, whether you don’t like it, I don’t care. You’re not even trying to like Lord Cazador. He may very well propose to you and you will say yes.”

You scoffed and looked to your father for assistance but he just nodded in agreement with your mother. “Are you both serious? I don’t like it here! I have a bad feeling about Lord Cazador and I’m not sure why but please don’t make me marry him!”

Your mother raised her hand at your insolence but your father caught her hand before it could make contact with your cheek. She looked at him, rage in her eyes and he just shook his head slowly. He then glanced at the staircase and you all turned to see Astarion standing on the top landing of the stairs. 

“M-my apologies, I heard yelling and came to see if everything was alright,” he explained quickly. 

“Everything’s fine ,” you huffed, taking the opportunity to step away from your parents and ascend the stairs. 

You walked past Astarion and heard him barely whisper. “Are you alright?”

You stopped for a moment, glaring back at your parents but continuing to your room without another word to anyone as tears welled in your eyes. You made it to your room and slammed the door behind you, sinking to the floor as your tears now ran freely while you sobbed. You truly thought if you had just come along, played nicely and behaved, that maybe your parents wouldn’t make you do this. But now it seemed your fate was sealed and there was nothing you could do. 

You sobbed into your hands as a gentle knock pattered at the door. “Go away,” you sniffled. 

“Sorry,” Astarion’s voice came through the door. 

You froze and wiped the tears away quickly and stood, flinging the door open. You met his red eyes and slightly battered face and he gazed at you with concern, his white brows knitting with worry. 

“Sorry, I thought you might have been my parents,” you said, retreating back into your room and slumping on the floor against the bed. 

Astarion stepped inside and sat beside you, resting his hand on your knee. “Are you alright? I heard some of the conversation with your parents,” Astarion confessed. 

You leaned your head back against the bed and looked up. “How much of it did you hear?”

Astarion looked at your stretched neck and gulped before averting his gaze to the carpet. “You don’t want to marry him,” Astarion said quietly. 

You sighed and your eyes slipped closed. “Are you going to tell him?” You asked dully. 

“No,” Astarion whispered. 

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him. “Why not?”

The pale elf shrugged. “I don’t want to speak out of turn. But know that your secret is safe with me.”

You gave him a small smile that barely lifted the corners of your lips. “Thank you.”

Astarion nodded and returned the smile, rubbing his thumb on your clothed knee to comfort you. “I hope tonight’s party will lift your spirits.”

You focused on the sensation of Astarion’s hand on your knee and you sighed. You would much prefer to sit here in your room with him all night instead of attending this party. You wanted to know what happened to him, wanted to know why everyone was so cagey around Cazador and what he was really like when he didn’t have guests to impress. 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

Astarion did a sharp intake of breath and bit his lip. “I-”

“You can be honest with me!” You added quickly.

“Darling, I-” Astarion said before quickly stopping himself. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He stood and slicked his white curly hair back before turning away and leaving. 

You stared at the door where he just left, your breathing slightly faster than usual. You held in the small squeak that threatened to leave your lips at the pet name he had called you. Did Astarion perhaps also feel even an inkling of something towards you? You shook the thought from your head. He was just being nice, you were very upset after all, and it seemed Cazador was also loose-tongued with his pet names for you. You leaned back and stared up at the ceiling as you thought about Astarion. His gorgeous curly hair and his strange red eyes that everyone who lived here seemed to share. You laughed as you wondered if your eyes would turn red after living here long enough. As your mind wandered, your eyes slipped shut and you dozed off, your mind still on the pale elf whose soft thumb you could swear you still felt on your knee. 

You were shaken awake by a soft feminine voice coaxing you from your sleep. “My lady, please wake up.” You opened your eyes to see Violet sitting in front of you, her hand on your arm as she gently shook it.

You blinked and noticed that while it was still cloudy and rainy, it was darker in here than when you had fallen asleep. 

“Ah, you’re awake. I do hate to rush you but guests will be arriving in an hour and I thought you might like some help getting ready,” Violet said as she stood and made her way to your closet and opened it up to find the dress you’d be wearing tonight. 

You stood and rubbed your eyes, shutting the door to your room before you started undressing. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Violet smiled as she pulled the dress out.

You stepped out of your day dress and into the dress Violet held out for you. She did up the corset and stepped back as you turned to face her. “You look gorgeous, my lady.” 

You turned to look into the mirror as Violet quickly stepped away and out of view. “I suppose it does look rather nice,” you said with a smile. “Would you mind helping me do my hair? Please? I’d like to have it up.”

Violet nodded and stepped forward to style your hair for you, pulling the seat away from your dresser and closer to the sconce nearby for “better lighting” as she put it. She made quick work of your hair with seemingly practiced hands after brushing, inserting pins and using a heated rod to curl some parts of it. She finally stepped aside and you moved to examine yourself in the mirror, beaming at how it was all coming together. 

“Now for the necklace…” You murmured to yourself as you opened the package and slipped it onto your clavicle and clasped it shut. “How do I look?” 

Violet nodded with a smile, long canines peeking out from beneath her lip which caused you to pause. “Gorgeous, my lady. Do you need anything else?” 

“No…” You said slowly as she turned and left the room. 

There was something strange about this whole place for certain and you were going to find out what. Perhaps you'd need to get Astarion and Violet to open up to you a bit more and find out the truth. Especially if you were going to be married to the lord of this palace. 

You shuddered at the thought and slipped on your shoes before stepping out of your room. As you descended the hallway towards the main area of the house, you could already hear jovial chatter, tasteful music lilting through the air and smell the mix of perfumes, food and flowing drink. 

You approached the top of the stairs and the chatter hushed slightly as people stopped to look at you. You froze under their sudden attention and your eyes darted around until they landed on Astarion's familiar face, an unreadable expression on it as he gazed at you. He was dressed in a red tunic with gold threading and while you were certain his clothes weren't as expensive as Cazador's, he looked amazing. His hair perfectly curled and framing his face as usual. A clearing of someone's throat caught your attention and you finally landed on Cazador who approached the bottom landing of the stairs, one of his arms stretched out to you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies,” he said smoothly with practiced ease. “May I please present tonight's guest of honour and lovely guest to my and my home.” 

He introduced you and you nodded slightly with a nervous smile as the party guests clapped while you descended the stairs. You slipped your hand into his and he pressed a cold kiss to it, meeting your eye before his gaze slipped to your neck. You pressed your lips together and looked away, spying your parents nearby with satisfied smiles on their faces. 

You stepped away from Cazador with a polite smile and made your way through the crowd towards one of the newer staff who walked around with goblets of drink in a tray. However you were stopped by lords and ladies alike, introducing themselves to you. You simply smiled, nodded, offered your hand to the gentlemen when needed and mirrored the curtseys from the ladies until you finally broke through and made it to the servant whose tray was now empty. 

You let out a frustrated huff before someone tapped you on the shoulder. You rolled your eyes internally, preparing for another introduction when you turned around to see Astarion with a goblet in hand, offering it to you. 

“Am I glad to see you,” you said with a laugh. 

“Are you talking to me or the drink?” Astarion asked with a smirk. 

“You,” you answered far too quickly. You quickly raised the goblet to your lips before you could say anything else entirely stupid. “There are a lot more people here than I ever anticipated.”

Astarion nodded, his eyes not leaving you. “Lord Cazador hosts lavish parties to the elite of the city and beyond. And there are a lot of elite. Though do mind who you talk to, some of them are less than savoury.”

Your eyes widened at this. “What do you mean?” 

Astarion furrowed his brow and one of his pointy ears twitched. “My apologies, I've spoken out of turn.” 

Before you could get another word in he turned on his heel and retreated back into the throng of people. 

“Good evening, my lady,” a new voice said from beside you. “Gale of Waterdeep. A pleasure to meet you. May I have this dance?” 

You looked to the dancefloor with couples scattered about and looked back at the man before you, his eyes twinkling with warmth. Not something you had ever detected in Cazador now that you thought of it. You nodded and took his offered hand as he led you to the middle of the dancefloor. 

Through a couple of dances you learned he was a wizard from a known family who was sent in place of his mother. You weren't terribly interested in his story and as you danced, you couldn't help but scan the edges of the room for a certain white-haired elf. 

You managed to spot him a few times and when you did, he was already looking at you. You turned away, blushing every time. 

“I thought you were here to marry Lord Cazador,” Gale said matter-of-factly. 

“I am,” you answered far too quickly. “M-maybe, if he chooses so.”

“Hm,” Gale hummed.

The song ended and he let you go with a bow. Before anyone else could pull you aside or a dance or a drink, you beelined for the balcony, opened the door and slipped through quietly. After what seemed like hours of mingling and chatting you truly needed a break of fresh air from the crowd of people and the constant attention. 

You leaned against the railing and let out a sigh, looking across at the water soaked gardens from the rain earlier. You dropped your head and wondered if this was what the rest of your life might be like. Married to Cazador, overwhelming parties and rubbing elbows with people like this. You hated the thought of it. 

The sound of the door opening behind you caused you to freeze and let out an agitated sigh. At least you got a moment of reprieve. You turned around with a painted on smile and faltered when you saw Astarion standing in front of the now closed door. 

“Astarion,” you breathed. “Sorry I just needed a moment away from… all that.”

“I understand,” he said as he approached the railing and leaned against it next to you. 

You looked at him and noticed how he looked an angelic vision in the moonlight. His pale skin looked like it was glowing and his lightened hair made a halo around his head, and his red eyes looked like rubies in place. 

“Does Cazador do many of these?” You asked, clearing your throat and looking away. 

Astarion nodded, offering you a sympathetic look. 

“Great,” you sighed. “Do you…” 

You inhaled as you hesitated. You had to know where you stood, if there was still a chance that you could be going home. 

“Do you know how he feels… about me?” You asked. 

Astarion stiffened and turned to face you fully now, a cool hand coming up to cup your cheek. He softly rubbed your skin with his thumb. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but… I think he intends to propose.”

Your eyes slid shut and your brows furrowed as your heart stuttered. You bit your lip and tried to quell your emotions but it was futile, as soon as the tears welled they fell and streaked down your cheeks. 

“My lady…” Astarion whispered, wiping the tears away. 

You looked up at him through your wet lashes, gripping onto his arm and squeezing it. “Please,” you whispered, not even really sure what you were asking for. 

You could only stare as Astarion's face inched closer to yours, his nose brushing against yours before his lips finally met your own in a soft kiss. He pulled away for a split second, as if just realising what he'd done, his eyes wide. But before he could get too far away you chased his lips, pressing another kiss to them. 

“Astarion…” You whispered. 

He kept hold of your face, whispering your name against your lips. Your free hand gripped onto his shirt, almost as if he might disappear if you didn't. He gazed into your eyes, his brows furrowing as he appeared to have an internal battle with himself. 

Astarion dropped his hand and stepped away, running a hand through his hair. “I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me,” he apologised. 

You shook your head, your cheeks flushed and your skin feeling impossibly hot. “Don't apologise.” 

“My master…” Astarion whispered, looking down at the ground. “If he ever found out that I did this.” 

“Your… master? Do you mean Lord Cazador?” 

Astarion frowned at the ground, saying nothing. You stepped forward and reached for his hand but he pulled away slightly. 

“Please talk to me. I- I don't want to marry Cazador and I can't bear to be here any longer feeling like this,” you pleaded. 

Astarion looked up at you, his eyes sad. “You were upset and I took advantage of that. I… I can't do this. As much as I might want to.” 

Astarion snapped his mouth shut and quickly retreated back inside before you could say something to make him stay. 

Part 4

[mrfancyfoot]

Plots & Prosody: Prompts

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

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- A Gift of Heart-

"To a devil, gifting the heart of your enemy (for free, no less!) is practically a confession of love.

Evie contemplates getting a spray bottle to spritz her murderous cat of a devil friend."

Happy Halloween! This prompt is slightly thematic for the holiday (in a, uh, horror kind of way - sort of. More along the lines of Addams Family kind of "horror"). 😈

Did not quite succeed in getting both prompts out for October, but I should have my Kinktober prompt out very soon (and unlike this one, I have spent far more time on it than two sleep deprived nights). :)

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Rating: M / NSFW-ish

Word Count: ~1.2k

Timeline: Plots & Prosody, Part II - Canon

Tags: POV Evie; She/Her Pronouns; Raphael Referenced; Housemate Astarion; (Dark) Humor; ...Fluff?; Dark Romance; Evie is a Bit Socially/Romantically Naive; Some Mutual Pining; Devil Courtship; The Devil is Smitten; Raphael probably off strutting around like a tom cat so proud of himself

Warnings: Gore (Dismembered Body Parts...As Gifts); Referenced Murder; Implied Eating of one such part (Astarion); Evie has found herself a surprising degree of okay with most of this

Main Fic (Rated E/Varied): AO3 + Tumblr | Master List (contains related prompts)

[Quick Context: After being isekai'd by the nautiloid, Evie spends most of Plots & Prosody Part I (Game Events) “befriending the devil,” yet denying him her soul.  Once things settle after game events, Evie goes about her new life kick-starting her business and re-inventing modern-day things. She remains oblivious to Raphael's attempts at courting her and chalks many of his more questionable behaviors up to cultural differences.]

Part of my devil courtship series.

❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️

Being friends with a devil was very akin to being friends with a particularly mischievous, deadly cat.  A cat that sometimes left little unsettling gifts in the middle of her dining room table to show its fondness.

It was mid-morning when she woke and readied enough to drag herself downstairs for breakfast.  The glint of shiny, gaudy wrapping paper had been quick to catch her eye.  The ribboned cube was about the size of a hat box and she recognised who it was from upon sight for Raphael had a set of preferences and this was far from being the first.  Crimson paper, gold ribbon, occasionally switched up when he was feeling extra pretentious with gold paper and crimson ribbon or with a navy accent.

As his cherished, self-appointed best, and only, friend - though he was certainly putting effort into getting her to agree to the forever ‘forever’ part - the word that came to mind for this behavior was ‘lavish.’  Raphael had begun to lavish her with gifts.

Exotic spices, rare books, furs with magical properties, trinkets from his travels, fine clothing, expensive jewelry.

Which wasn’t at all what she had expected several months ago.  Her goal with ‘befriending the devil’ had started out as purely self-preservation as a means to stay on his good side if he was as adamant about getting her soul as he claimed.  Perhaps they’d occasionally have tea and trade book recommendations, catch a play at the theatre...  Actually succeeding was not something she had foreseen.

But though she insisted that he didn’t have to gift her anything, let alone such finery, he insisted that he did.  His friend had a place of high honor in his life that deserved it.  And to show that he could - protecting and spoiling her these ways was another display of his power and status.

Those were the innocuous gifts, at least comparatively - she wasn’t sure she wanted to know where they all may have come from.  The gifted body parts were…less so.

A behavior that she was still parsing.  Being friends with a powerful devil meant having to make some concessions and strive to understand their culture.

She supposed it was how he showed he cared.

At least he wasn’t yet leaving her half dead things to tell her that her own skills needed honing.

Evie thumbed the bow of the pretty, sleek ribbon and slipped the tiny card out from under it.  The back was signed with a simple, scripted initial R.  It carried his distinctive, warm scent that she took in fondly.

He never wanted there to be any question as to who the gifts came from.

“Ooo, another present, I see.  Isn’t that the second this tenday?”  Having come from his own room, Astarion sidled up beside her and gleefully peered over her shoulder.  “Now, what do you suppose is hidden within this one?  More jewelry to match?  A nice set of ears?  Oh, I know!  A stunning pair of earrings still attached to the lobes.  Do hurry up, I’m dying of anticipation!”  He giggled to himself.  Earlier this week was an enchanted bracelet.  Not attached to anything.

His question was somewhat rhetorical given his heightened sense of smell, so he would at least know if it was ‘organic’ or not.

“Hmm.”  She lifted the box and gave it a gentle shake.  “It has an odd weight.  Bit more oomph to it than I would have thought.  So…I’mma say some unlucky soul has been relinquished of…something.”

Guessing the contents had become somewhat of a game between them.  

Evie pulled at the ribbon and flipped the top off the box.

She leaned over the box and squinted, her head tilting.

A heart.

Lovingly nestled within tissue paper splattered with still-wet blood.

Astarion bent closer and she heard him inhale deeply.  “Oh, my.  A bit engorged but it does look delicious, darling.”  He stepped aside and scanned her, asking, “Did something happen?  I cannot wait to find out which poor sap crossed you the wrong way to deserve this.”  As though he didn’t also contemplate the same thing.  There was once a time that he bemoaned Raphael ‘beating’ him to dealing with certain problems.  It was a cute little rivalry between her bloodthirsty gremlins.

She would like to say that it bothered her, but trying to keep her workers safe was such an immense burden with how troubled and unsafe the Gate was, especially at night and especially in the Lower City.  Thugs, sharks, drunkards…dandy nobles able to bribe guards and magistrates to get their way.  She could fend for herself, but many of her women and younger employees couldn’t.  With her hired security only able to do so much above water if the proper authorities refused to act, it was little skin off her nose for the lowest of scum to find their way to the Hells.

“No, nothing comes to mind for this one.”  She sighed, a wry smile pulling at her lips.  “You can have it if you don’t drool on me, Asta.  Please put it on ice if you don’t plan to do anything with it right now, though.”

He snagged the box with an eager, ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ and walked off, disappearing down the hall.

She’d have to dispose of it anyhow so having a vampire housemate made that easy.

Hopefully the authorities wouldn’t come pounding on their door after finding a body - if there even was one - but she feared if Raphael kept threatening and picking off her enemies and those who had done her wrong, someone out there was bound to make the connection back to her as a common denominator.

A drunken fishmonger had mysteriously lost some fingers after inappropriately grabbing her and finding himself thrown into the bay.

A set of eyeballs from a disgustingly lustful trio of gangsters thinking they’d cornered her in an alley near her warehouse.  She had dealt with them, as well, but apparently Raphael felt more needed to be done.

The tongue of who had once been her daily catcaller on her way to work.

Occasionally, Raphael felt the need to posture and share the origins of such offerings, though often it was a few days or even weeks until they learned who the bits came from.

Raphael had once shared the deplorable things a visiting noble had said of her to him while at a gala.  Decorative beads had been made from his bones and Raphael was having them sewn into a dress for her to wear to an upcoming event in the Hells.

He, of course, would never dirty his own hands within the Material Plane, but he had plenty of agents and those in his debt to carry out his orders.

As this one had not been handed to her, it was more likely that they’d be hearing of the potential cause and prior owner at some point from the news or street gossip mill.

As amusing as it was to imagine spraying the devil with water in the same way one would attempt to alter the behaviors of a cat, she doubted it would be so simple.  But, thinking like a devil, maybe she would have more luck getting him to cease the morbid gifts from the angle of conveying that she felt insulted by the assumption that she could not or was not handling these things properly herself.

Her stomach rumbled and she decided to think on it more after breakfast. She palmed the tiny gift card and made her way to the kitchen.