#Sunwalker’s Gift

[thatcerealkiller]

More HC for Spawn Astarion and Tav who learn that the magic in the Sunwalker’s Gift is not the ring itself but embedded in the ruby which wasn’t big enough to grant Astarion robust sun immunity. So they go searching for the original rock/mine it came from and after some blood sweat and tears Astarion has a new ring set and a pair of earrings at 4ct each.

[sserpente]

The Sunwalker's Gift

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[trashmancer]

Drawn for the Bloodweave Brainrot's Art/Fic Swap; in response to tuffgreg's incredibly beautiful fic "cutting through the cracks of the concrete". On the day of their wedding, Gale gives Astarion a Sunwalker's Gift.

[dhampling]

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered. “The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

inspired by this ask where the reader finds a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and proposes with it. enjoy! wc: 3.3k cw: none. gn reader, fluff, all good stuff. no use of y/n. like one vague reference to sex. that's it. liberties taken with the idea of the sunwalker's gift.

Tardy.

“Here then, yes?”

A gentle dirt path carries to the town boundary, the marker one of dry wood and old brandish. Windows of amber; smoke rising to the stars, a biting chill settling on the ground as gateclose approaches.

You turn the map in hand to compare against the settlement before you.

“Think so.”

Astarion takes your arm in his, leaving the map hanging free in his wake. 

It takes all the will you can muster not to take his hands in yours and spin him in some sleepy glee-bound whirl in the sheer ecstasy at the thought of what you have planned - instead pulling each other something ragged down the slope in a half-step, half-cant; giddy at the thought of Firewine by a fireplace as your breath clouds the air foggy past your heads.

You’re in a position where - maybe for the first time since the Netherbrain fell - you can see the end. 

And it’s close. Ridiculously close. 

You want nothing more than to drop and do it now. Knees muddied in the dew-thickened dirt clod and breeze heavy with frost under the big pale moon - teeth chittering, looking up to him;-

Gods. You can picture it. His eyes hooplike with uncertainty, the one last drip of doubt teetering on his tongue - is this some kind of cosmic joke? - a quiet whisper under his breath, a little tilt of his head. Hair rippling in the moonlight. A moment of mutability as he reconciles all you are, all you’ve become together. That there’s a future in which sincerity is all he knows moving forward.

No.

Before morning, for sure.

-

The gate welcomes you in one last waning breath as the guards head to their watch turrets until dawn, and it takes a minute to truly come to terms with civilization once more. Your eyes flit to each of the little flickering lanterns and candles in windows; to the railings adorned with browning vines and disused terracotta pots.  

It’s been months since you and Astarion have been somewhat settled anywhere. Since the Absolute fell and you set off for adventures beyond anything you or he could ever imagine. Navigating the Underdark together, treading darkness above ground; wherever, it wasn’t of any real importance. You’d find lodging where you could, eat with whoever welcomed you; and you did it together.

Of course, your ulterior motive has managed to remain a secret. From clandestine discussions with the Society of Brilliance all the way back to the Gate; to fevered exploration in the deepest chasms of Sembia. Nights spent looking over the ferryboats on the Sea of Fallen Stars and discussing so many different futures the two of you could live. 

He is completely disarmed and unsuspecting at your side. Radiant. Hopeful. The world is changed and he wants to see every bit he passes with eyes wide open to good fortune.

“A town called Tardy? Really?” 

He sneers.

You shrug.

“It has a fun ring to it. Tardy.”

The word bounces on your tongue as you taste the mull-soak set between your teeth. 

A wordless mission to stave off the chill now has you settled fireside in the closest inn with mulled Glowfire. The clock ticks and there’s lively chatter a little behind you in the main tavern room.

“The Scoundrel's Cellar, though. Now that’s a good name.’

He takes a small sip. 

‘Why Tardy?”

You turn your head to him with a tight quirk of your upper lip.

“You’re asking me why?”

“Not really.’

Astarion looks at you and smiles.

‘It’s just… nice. To be able to talk at such leisure like this, I think.”

His cheeks are ruddied by the lashings of wind, the hint of a twinkle in his eyes as he reveres you. Hair a little unruly in the mop of curls atop his head but still unbelievably well-kempt for a man who's been on the road for months now. Lost wholly in his sheer exuberance, his joy in living despite the lack of a pulse. His chalice is close to his chest as he warms his hands.

You daren’t linger on your own appearance, thinking a silent prayer that the bathroom has a mirror. 

It’s a long moment before you reply.

“Yes! Yes. Absolutely.”

He throws you a quizzical glance but the smile doesn’t leave his face as he shifts to look down at his drink.

“I sometimes picture having a fireplace, you know. How-’

A brief pause.

‘How nice it’d be to sit by it, on an evening like this. Home.”

Astarion stretches a palm outward to the flame and closes his eyes, basking in the scalding heat. Amber shades. Pallid skin a perfect canvas.

“What would you be doing, by the fire?” You query softly as you watch the gentle flickers of his hand, outstretched.

“I- I’m not sure.”

Something resembling a coy smile creeps onto his face, overrun by a timid quiet uncharacteristic of your long-term lover. You lean over to him and take his nimble fire-warm hand in your own. A small kiss planted firmly on the hot skin.

“Go on.’

The willing smile on your face as you egg him on, chin to palm. He tilts his head coquettishly. 

‘What do you see in that beautiful head of yours? Because I can see it now - a sitting room full of tapestries and hangings; all of your design, of course. Patchwork blankets. Big comfy seats.”

“Ugh. Fine. Yes.’

Any ill-mannered jest fades almost immediately as he looks into your eyes and beams once more. He is safe here. He knows it.

‘I’m thinking big seats. Maybe-’

He brings his arms out wide.

‘Maybe this big? Possibly bigger? Somewhere to lounge, naturally.’

His hand finds yours in the low light once more, a tentative clutch as he maps out the vision in his head. 

‘Soft carpets on stone floors. Incense - none of the dull stuff though, darling; only pure patchouli - and… and lanterns with glass of all colours, so the room glows with light constantly.”

“So we’ve set the scene. Then what?”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you fondly.

“And then… I don’t know. A little cat on the cushions. Books, papers scattered on the carpet as despite the fact we have those big comfy seats; I’m not seeing myself to be inclined to move Her Majesty.”

“After the cat at the Last Light?”

“The very same. But I want a girl cat. Boy cats feel… weird to me. Cats are girls.’

He grimaces and waves his chalice-hand.

‘Anyway. Her Majesty on the lounger, me on the floor. I’m drawing up patterns early into the morning. Big, thick shutters over the windows; but it doesn’t matter because the lantern light is so vivid, and you;-’

There’s a feather-soft look to him when he does look at you.

‘Oh, you.’

You become aware of him drawing small circles with his thumb, eyes unmoving; unblinking. 

‘Always you. My love. Should you decide to join me in long-term domesticity-’

He plants a kiss on your hand as you did his. Your stomach is pure cream as you listen, nodding slowly with lids of honey.

‘Then you. Everywhere. Beside me on the carpet, laughing in that delicious way you do. Astride me in our bed -’

You smirk. He looks at you a little deviously.

‘Well, not just bed. Anywhere, really.”

“Is that what the loungers are for?”

A small grin.

“Maybe.’

You gesture for him to continue with a knowing grin.

‘Anyway. Yes. The future. Us. A townhouse somewhere in the Gate.” He sips slowly while pondering.

“What about younglings? You were fond of Yenna.”

The wine erupts down his pale chin in shock, eyes like saucers.

“I’m sorry?”

“Children.” You repeat, holding his gaze with firm affection. 

He moves to laugh but there’s a wavering indecision in the way his brows crease.

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. But if it is?”

He stops to think for a moment when the call for Grand High Lord Supreme General Admiral Ancunín - his favoured travelling name - comes from the frazzled barmaid at the front of house to signal your rooms are ready, and all discussion overruled by the fact you’re both bone-weary beyond belief.

As your hand moves to your pocket, you feel it.

Sequestered away in the little velvet box you bought from the Night Market months ago and kept for this. 

Later.

-

Hours on and you’re settled. A small room with an adjoining washroom - modest, but surprisingly comfortable; and just as you’d hoped, there’s a balcony. 

Astarion lounges on the bed with a large leatherbound book, looking fondly at you from time to time as you busy yourself with your recent findings, taking inventory and stashing bits away in their respectively labelled bags of holding.

“What is all of this in aid of, anyway?” He asks in a lazy drawl, seemingly unbothered.

“What?”

“This. The adventuring stuff. Do we have a destination yet?”

“No, not in particular.’ You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

‘Why? You’ve not been bothered before?”

“And I’m not now. But I am curious.’

He grins devilishly on the bed and flips the book closed, placing it next to him and sitting straight - legs crossed. 

‘What’s the plan, lover?”

“Who says there’s a plan?”

He’s got you right where he wants you. 

You feel yourself becoming giddy again - heart wholly aflutter. You’re aware that he’s attuned to the regular pitter-patter between your ribs and despite the conscious attempt to regulate yourself back to calm; you almost want him to find you out this way. 

“Nothing. I’m just wondering where we’re - well, wandering. It’s beginning to feel a little aimless”

There’s a moment of silence, prolonged as you fiddle further with your trinkets.

“I-’

You reach for the box in your pocket and run a thumb over it reactively.

‘I’ll tell you later. I promise.”

He looks at you with a curious furrow, trying to eke out a little more information in the quiet din but you’re wise to it at this point in your relationship. You simply yield into his glance with a pleading smile. 

“Okay. Okay. I’ll leave it with you. But I do expect answers!”

You heave a sigh of relief. He’s definitely picked up on it.

Once all of your spoils are packed away you take a trip downstairs to purchase more wine and request a bath to be drawn - after all, you’ve been on the road with rivers as your only source of cleanliness for gods know how long.

There are nerves. Of course there are nerves, small pins prickling from within and setting you ablaze with each new thought of him beside you for life, threads weaving a rich tableau life together. Lilting violins and piano sonatas. Finery for days. Some small townhouse, just as he’d described it downstairs. 

But you found the thing you’d set out to find on your adventures. Where you head next is entirely up to the both of you.

Provided he says yes, that is.

You imagine the worst possible rejection he could give you - “No, darling. Let’s keep things as they are for now.” - and yet the thought of him calling you darling in that syrupy murmur is rousing enough to keep you afloat. 

The bath is tepid, door open whilst Astarion watches from the bed between pages.

“More wine, love?”

“Please.”

Calm. Rain on the thatch roof. 

He perches on the side of the washtub, one leg crossed over the other as he passes you a glass full of red. Hums absent-mindedly as he swirls the perfumed waters with a dainty hand. 

Your mind drifts to the ring. How beautiful it’ll look in place.

He looks at you with that curious glint in his eye, and you roll your head to the back of the tub in an attempt at meek avoidance.

“Pretty.” He quips. 

You laugh quietly.

“Hm?”

“You. Pretty. Hair all mussed like a siren. A vision.”

He lifts your wrist from the water and kisses the back of your hand a few times over, while you squirm in jest. He only retaliates by kissing you harder with a fiendish giggle. 

“You’re one to talk.”

The lantern by the mirror lights the tips of his curls from behind. Angelic.

“Yes, I am beautiful. So are you. My darling.”

It must be late now. Maybe late enough.

As you lift from the water - assisted by your lover’s hand - and enrobe once more, you feel it.

Now.

-

Astarion begins his usual routine of light-proofing the room and blocking the shutters as the threat of sunrise looms on the horizon.

Well. Light.

The rain doesn’t show any sign of ceasing.

Nonetheless, you feel ready. A habit you can’t wait for him to break, checking the shutters for cracks.

“C’mere.” 

He turns to you and looks you over.

“Hm?”

“Come here! Please! I’ve got something for you and it simply can’t wait any longer.”

The box is light in hand, soft. You’ve checked it multiple times for the ring and all is in place.

The way he steps to you is cautious. Catlike.

“Is this the thing? Is it finally time?’

You pull him in next to you on the edge of the bed, taking both hands in yours.

‘I can see that little box. Hopefully a trinket worth the hours of agony I’ve endured waiting for you to reveal your secrets.” He grins, pulling you in for a gentle kiss.

You don’t say anything, freeing one hand to take the box.

“This is-’

A sharp inhale.

‘This is it. Wherever we go from here, it’s mutually agreed. All of it. But this is what I’ve been looking for, hence my leadership skills taking forefront again.”

“Don’t tell me. It’s a Bracing Band!’

You shove him gently and he giggles, reinforcing his clutch on your hand. 

‘Okay, okay. I’m done. Show me.”

He waggles his fingers around your palm and grins expectantly. Gods. You rip the bandage off and open the box to him.

He’s seen a picture of it before - it’s in one of his books, that’s where you got the initial idea - but you know he hasn’t read it or he’d onto you weeks ago.

And he doesn’t recognise it. 

“I- What is this?”

A gentle whisper as his eyes run over the golden rays cast with aged enamel. 

“A ring.’

Astarion’s death glare takes a new form, this time wholly inhibited by the uncertainty in his frozen hunch.

You stand and spin to a kneel on the floor in front of him.

‘A special ring. Really, really special; in fact.’

Plucking it from the velvet, you hover the band over his fingertip.

‘Firstly though. Marry me?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so completely and utterly shocked. 

Mouth firmly agape as red round eyes attempt to scan yours for any sign of deceit, jowls trembling a little in the yellow lantern glow. A small gulp as his lips meet once more.

“You picked an inn called The Scoundrel's Cellar, in a town called Tardy, in the middle of a thunderstorm; to propose marriage to me?”

“Had to be here, had to be now. Couldn’t wait any longer. You’ll understand in a minute, I promise.’

You rise a little to cup his jaw in hand, sinking into a chaste kiss. 

‘Astarion Ancunín, will you marry me?”

“Gods!’

There’s a brief tremor as his lips wobble, then a practised breath as he speaks. One hand reaches for your flushed cheek to mirror the gesture. 

‘Of course I will, you brute. Maybe you could’ve done with a better choice in ring, of course; but I can learn to love it, I’m sur-”

“You are beyond insufferable, Astarion. Kiss me right now.”

The immediately resulting kiss is brimming with yearning. A cup full to spilling as he takes the ring in your hand whilst you put it on him. 

He hunches all the way over to meet you on raised knees, grabbing at body-warmed bedclothes for one another; tenderly, in peals of quiet laughter between breaths and silent shouts.

“Wait. I’m not done.’

He’s giddy now, too. Knee bouncing. 

‘There’s a reason it had to be that ring.”

“It’s hideous, pet. Give me a reason to love it.”

You spin to your feet and to the furthest shutters, opening them a slight as he watches on in guarded curiosity with the biggest smile lingering on his face. 

The first hint of light. 

“C’mere.”

“You’re bossing me around an awful lot today, my darling betrothed.”

The weight of the moment is colossal, ocean deep. Despite his sheer joy he won’t come willingly. The burns from the dock the day the Absolute fell were molten for weeks and you still both have night terrors ringing loud with the sound of his agonising yells. 

A gentle hand extends to him. 

“The Sunwalker’s Gift.”

Then it clicks. Slowly. The final puzzle piece.

“No. Surely.”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

“It had to be.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Then we have a wedding to plan in the Underdark. But I wouldn’t traipse across the realms on just an inkling, you know.”

“I know you wouldn’t.”

“Well then.’

Your hand waits expectantly, fingers mimicking his waggle.

‘Just a finger. Please.”

He sits on the bed, spinning the ring mindlessly; before he looks at you with a resolute nod.

“I’ve trusted you with far worse, all things considered.”

Astarion approaches slowly and meets your hand, interlinking your ring fingers together and waiting for your word as you position yourself within the light.

“On three?”

Three arrives and nothing happens.

Hands raised, fingers lit in a single low beam of early light. Frozen.

“Astarion? All good?”

He moves your hands wholly into the light. Nothing. Twists the tangled fingers as if examining for damage. Rain careens into the window.

“I- Yes. Yes. All good.”

Dumbfounded.

You erupt into a bubbling grin, pulling him to the balcony doors and planting another soft kiss onto bewildered lips. Looking to the worn bronze handles with a brief head tilt.

A simple, overwhelmed nod. Brows knitted together in a milky daze, mouth slack. He looks like he’s going to collapse. 

The doors edge open and you cautiously step to lead him by arm.

Nothing. Not a single sizzle, no cinders. Forearm, arm, body; head.

No tug on your hand as he races back indoors. No wretched cries of pain nor gasps of hurt.

It’s a few seconds before he speaks. The sun now burns bright enough to see the streets below with razor clarity.

“The rain. My- my hair-’

Barely above a whisper.

‘Looks perfect. As it always does.’

Your eyes don’t leave him. Not once. He’s completely floored, gazing into the middle distance mindlessly. 

‘Love, sit.”

You gently tug an iron-wrought balconette chair over to him and help him to find purchase atop it amongst his overwhelm.

“I- I love you. Thank you.”

“Anything. Anything for you.”

He shakes from his haze once wet through, lightning on the horizon awakening the Astarion you recognise best. Closes his eyes with a soft smile.

“You’re going to catch your death out here, you know.”

His grip on your hand is vicelike, clutching it to his chest with zealous reverence.

“Then we’ll have to have a hot bath later. Right now though, I think a celebration is in order.”

You free yourself from his grasp for two moments, barreling back inside for the last of the wine and the large bedsheet. You place both chalices on the iron table and sit beside Astarion outside in fits of laughter whilst wrapping the sheet over both of your heads. He snatches your hand back and kisses it for an age. Devoted.

“To Tardy?”

He lifts his chalice in his free hand, and you do the same in yours.

“Tardy!”

[comatosebunny09]

Inspired by @sserpente’s The Sunwalker’s Gift.

Imagine being a shopkeeper, selling heirlooms and antiques in a quaint mom-and-pop shop.

Business is incredibly slow. You find yourself flipping through the worn, deckled pages of a book, your chin cradled in your palm. There is nary a customer in sight. Not since that new, mainstream jewelry store popped up down the street.

You’re about to close up shop early to enjoy what’s left of the day—it’s lovely outside. Too pretty to be tucked between these browning walls. But the jangle of the store’s bell lures your attention to the door.

Finally.

You look up as you prepare to greet the store’s newest occupant. But you forget how to talk—forget how to breathe—rooted to the floor like a basilisk has petrified you.

He’s ethereal amid the sunbeams pouring into your tiny store. All wintry-skinned, thin, and tall, dark lenses perched on his sharp nose. Rounded cheeks, petal-pink lips, and foxlike features.

His hair is what entrances you. Swaying like snowflakes in the breeze, and you wonder if it’s as soft as the snow it resembles. Vaguely, you register it sifting through your fingers, smell it exuding the faintest hints of rosemary and firewood.

The stranger surveys your shop, one hand tucked in his pants pocket, the other holding onto an oversized coat. Even his stance is princely. Nothing captures his attention for too long as he peruses through your wares, feigning interest in your rickety things.

You suddenly feel insecure; small—he strikes a picturesque figure amid the dusty antiques lining your shelves. The store across the way would probably suit someone so devastatingly beautiful better.

Nevertheless, you remember how to speak. Square your shoulders, plastering on your most welcoming grin despite your nerves exploding like solar flares beneath your skin.

After smoothing out the wrinkles of your attire, you offer the customer a warm, rehearsed “Welcome!”

He perks up at the sound of your voice. Lips twitch into a half smile, silver brows lifting slightly. Your heart hiccups at the sight.

The stranger saunters towards the counter, carrying with him the scent of bergamot and brushed sage. It’s a homely scent. Somehow nostalgic as he leans towards you, tilting his shades down to ingest you with eyes the color of smoldering coals.

“Good afternoon, love,” he drawls, his accent thick with regality. The purr of it causes your body to flood with warmth. It’s almost dizzying, the ground shifting beneath your feet.

You swallow, your throat thickening with your voice. “What brings you in today?”

“Actually.” He looks thoughtful, a long finger tapping his chin. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers like all the world’s secrets bare themselves to him. “Maybe you can help me with something.”

You watch with bated breath whilst the stranger retrieves something from his coat pocket. It catches in the sunlight. Glints a pretty ruby red as he places it on the display counter with a resounding clack.

“I’ve been trying to part ways with the damned thing for ages. Yet somehow, it always finds its way back to me.” His gaze is far off for the barest of seconds before he replaces it with a nonchalant shrug, waggling his hand dismissively. “It’s long since served its purpose. An antique, if you will. I wondered how much it would go for if it still holds any value.”

He speaks of it so contemptuously. As if it’s been a burden to carry all this time. But it’s beautiful in its simplicity. Tarnished gold, carved with intricate runes you can’t quite decipher. It houses a gorgeous crimson stone that seems to hum and swirl with energy—with power. Perhaps it’s a trick of the light or your nerves causing you to hallucinate.

You’re delicate as you hold it against the sun’s rays, further studying its design. In your peripheral, you capture the stranger’s eyes, regarding you with something you can’t quite place. Disdain? Curiosity? Fondness? Whatever it is, it unnerves you. Makes your mouth fill with sand as you clutch the ring in your palm, intending to scrutinize it some more in the back. It radiates against your flesh despite it being so frigid.

“I’ll have to take a more thorough look at it,” you conclude, masking your shakiness. You muster another smile. “Would you like some tea in the meantime? It may take a while to appraise it properly.”

“No thank you, darling,” replies the fair-skinned stranger, leaning against your counter in an easy slouch. His smirk is back, boasting what you mistake for a fang, peeking through the plushness of his lips. “Never had a taste for the stuff.”

“Coffee your thing?”

“Gods no.”

“Water?”

He waves you off with a quiet scoff, venturing away to prod and examine the other little trinkets in your shop.

“Take all the time you need, love. I’ve nothing but time to spare. And, by the looks of it, so do you.” He eyes you over his shoulder with mirth gracing his countenance. A flash of affection colors his gaze before he busies himself again.

You huff a laugh at his peculiar mannerisms, disappearing behind the curtain of the back room to fetch your jewelers loupe. All the while, your mind swims with wistfulness.

You can't help but feel like the handsome stranger who’d fatefully wandered into your shop is watching you, burrowing deep into your soul, even through the thick veil of your curtain.

masterlist

[larvasmoon]

In a Glass Darkly

Pairing- Fem!AstarionxFem!Tav / AstarionxFem!Tav Word count-8,4k Ratiing- 18+ Tags- Female Astarion, oral sex, biting

Ao3 - Masterlist

Astarion finds a mysterious belt in his bag. Things take an unexpected turn when he tries it on...

It’s a frosty night in Neverwinter, and she is shivering under her mantle, walking by the avenue with his hand in hers. He knows it’s stupid, that his fingers can’t warm her own, and that he is as cold as the snow that comes down swirling in front of their eyes. 

And yet, he keeps holding it.

Greedily. Selfishly. 

His palm presses further in her skin, fingers intertwined tighter, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear or be ripped away from him at every street corner. 

She looks at him from under her hood, nose and cheeks growing red because of the freezing air, smiling so prettily in the bright store fronts.

And like a moth who just wants to share her light, he aches to draw closer.

He bends down, gently cradling her face in his other hand, and presses a firm kiss at the corner of her lips. He lingers there, sheltered from the noise of the busy street, nuzzling against her cheek, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. 

The smell of burning wood, from the fire they’ve lit the night before. The lingering perfume of the rose water he likes to put in her curls when she’s just out of the bath.

I love you so terribly, he thinks, nose pressed right under her ear, as if he wants to inhale all that she is, trap her in his lungs and keep her there, forever. 

A drunk tiefling man bumps into him, staggering and barely standing on his two feet. 

“Oi, find yourself a room will ya? Pfff those horny youngsters,” he grumbles to himself before disappearing in a nearby tavern. 

He’s about to turn around and catch up with the horrid boor when she tugs on his hand, very softly, silently asking him not to make a scene. If she hadn’t held him back, he would’ve taught the man a few lessons, the kinds that would’ve left him all bloodied and cold for the simple crime of interrupting the kisses he was giving her. 

“He’s right, we’re in the middle of the street, Astarion,” she protests, still snuggling in his neck and hiding her face into the thick fabric of his scarf, “Let’s find somewhere to spend the day.”

His arms close around her waist, and he pulls her body flush against his, resting his head on her shoulder, “Just a little longer, darling.”

They have been traveling for a tenday now, walking all the way from Mirabar to Neverwinter, after hearing rumors of the ring of the sunwalker’s gift being in the Jewel of the North. Their journey through the Crag Mountains has been particularly tiring for her. Every day at sunrise, after hours spent on dark steep mountain paths, they would set their camp in some cave or abandoned home. As soon as he'd laid their bedrolls on the floor, she curled up in his arms, pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and eagerly welcomed the embrace of Sehanine.

One that would forever be refused to him now.

As he holds her in the middle of the busy avenue, she melts into him the same way she would at night and he knows that she is getting slumberous. When she looks up at him again, her dark eyes are heavy-lidded, unfocused. 

It awakens some primal urge in Astarion to protect her, take her somewhere warm and comfortable, but he doesn’t dare to move yet, simply stays wrapped around her like a blanket. He lovingly strokes her hair, wishing he could give her everything she has ever wanted. 

A big house with a lovely garden, blooming flower beds as far as the eye can see.

A wide bed with heavy blankets and plush cushions, on which he would make love to her for hours and hours.

Warm and delicious dishes on her table every time her stomach starts to growl. 

Little children running around, with the same eyes and smile as her. 

A nice stroll on a warm and sunny summer’s day. 

And yet here he is, dragging her through all of Faerûn, forcing her to flee the sun and walk in the gloom, searching for a cure he has very little hope of finding and letting her use her magic to the point of exhaustion—What has he ever given her, except for doom and pain ? 

“Is something wrong, love?” she asks, each of her gentle words turning into little vapour clouds in the cold midnight air, “You are frowning again.”

Her warm hands come up to mirror the way he had touched her just before, lightly moving along his brows and forehead to get rid of his sullen expression. It draws a smile out of him, the simple feeling of her fingers following the lines of his face, as if she could shape a better version of him with them. 

A lighter and worriless one. 

For a moment, he almost thinks she could. 

“I have never been better, my sweet,” he says against the skin of her palm, turning his head to the side and laying a kiss there, “Let’s head to the Driftwood tavern, they have wonderful rooms and comfortable beds, or so I have heard. You need all the rest you can get.”

He wordlessly grabs her bag, throws it on his shoulder, takes her hand in his again and sets off. The tavern is not too far away, at a corner of one of the main streets of the Blacklake District. The façade of the old building is inviting, adorned with pretty stained glass windows and arched double doors, warm light pooling out of it and into the snowy streets each time someone new enters the place. 

Astarion makes quick work of getting one of their finest rooms, there is nothing that a few of his charming words can’t buy in this world. He flatters the owner and the great taste with which the place is arranged, swiftly compliments the way she is dressed and the pretty pin in her red hair, until she finally gives him the key to the “Grande Suite” on the highest floor of the inn.

Once they are upstairs, he helps Tav undress and clean up in the large tub of the adjacent bathroom. He gently brushes and braids her hair until she almost falls over, dozing off while he finishes tying her plait with a ribbon. Even in sleep, her hands reach for him, they gently yet persistently tug on his shirt until he lies next to her under the covers. Astarion chuckles and obliges, tucking her under his arm and idly playing with her hair until her breathing is finally deep and even. 

He stays like this for a long time, minutes or maybe hours, slowly losing all sense of time. Behind the closed curtains, the sun is going up and the city is awakening after a long and cold snowy night. People are laughing and chatting in the corridors of the inn, getting ready to leave for the day. Each of the steady beats of her heart against his silent one is a comfort, a grounding melody that keeps him present and tied to reality.

But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot trance. 

His mind is still racing, unable to let go of the idea that he doesn’t deserve her, that all the love she pours into him is like water in a broken jar. It leaks and drips out of every crack and split in his shattered being, wasted on someone that won’t receive it or reciprocate it the way it deserves to be.

After a little while, Astarion silently slips out of her arms and drapes the blankets around her, quietly heading to the main room to sit in front of the fire in one of the armchairs. Gloomy and discontent, he plays with one of his daggers, spins it between his pale fingers time and time again, while thinking about the things he could do to prove his love to her.

He is supposed to be good with his words. He has spent most of his long life sweet talking people, manipulating them into following him back to his master’s palace, but when he is with her, they are never quite enough. All of his “I love you” sound fake and phoney to his own ears, they have no value in the mouth of a man who has said it too many times without actually meaning it.

Each day is different since the end of their adventures. They find new paths to climb up to, new dangerous leads to follow, new places to call their home, but Astarion’s feelings are unwavering. He so desperately wants to find a way to show to her that she is in each and every of his thoughts, even the darkest and saddest ones. Something that would convince her that he can no longer imagine a life in which she is not adored by him. A token of his everlasting love. 

His eyes land on his travel bag, negligently laying against the wall alongside Tav’s. It reminds him of all things he has looted along the way, on all of the foes he has killed and on the many corpses he has stripped of their possessions. There’s a pretty ruby ring he has kept there for a few months now, the perfect size for Tav’s ring finger…and the perfect fit for a wedding ring. 

He frantically rummages through his packsack, laying on the carpeted floor the many trinkets and jewels he has collectionned over time. Countless sapphires or crystals, hand-crafted wooden boxes adorned with little pieces of nacre, pearl necklaces and diamond rings, messily scattered in front of him like he is searching through a pirate’s treasure chest. 

“Ah, there you are, you pretty thing!” he exclaims, happily looking at the way the light reflects on each of the facets of the big red stone it is adorned with.

He can already picture it on her hand, shimmery and red like a drop of blood on her smooth and soft skin.

Astarion is about to put it all away again when something catches his eyes at the very bottom of the bag, something he didn’t even remember having in the first place. It sparkles in the dark, eerily shimmering as though it is not exactly glinting in the light, but rather shining on its own. He hesitantly reaches for it, his fingers skimming across the cold metal of what seems to be a clasp. 

As he unfurls the mysterious object, Astarion discovers that it is a very beautiful belt, a finely crafted accessory, worthy of a duke or a king. The leather band is adorned with a river of rubies and emeralds, of all shapes and sizes, fastidiously sewn in the middle of gold thread embroideries. He inspects it very closely, looking for any trace of the magic he felt earlier, but apart from its undeniable beauty, it’s just one unremarkable belt. 

Another stunning piece of clothing that must have caught his eyes. Nothing more. 

He vaguely remembers the way Tav used to spend hours lecturing him on the caution one has to exert when stumbling upon a new object, something he never really managed to do. He’d steal some fineries on a dead man and recklessly try them on, spinning on himself and making a show of proving that they looked better on him than on their previous owner.

"Please be more careful, Astarion. What if this thing is cursed? What if there’s some spell tied to it? Let me take a look at it before putting it on. It’ll save us a lot of trouble … "

This time is no different, and while she is carefree and sound asleep in the next room, he impulsively tucks his shirt in his breeches and tries the fancy thing on. He happily hums a tune to himself as he pushes the leather band through the golden buckle, completely unaware of what is about to happen. 

It’s barely noticeable at first, a slight buzzing feeling in his limbs that he doesn’t acknowledge, too busy admiring the way the belt hugs his hips.

And then, all of a sudden, it strikes him. Searing hot and electric like thunder. 

A wave of scalding heat that travels through his body, from head to toe.

“Hells!” he breathes, realizing with horror that he truly has been deceived by the accessory's gorgeous appearance, “I need to take this off quickly!”

His entire body jolts, all of his muscles spasming and aching, as he falls to his knees. The world spins and blurs in front of his eyes, and suddenly he is so dizzy that he can’t even sit straight. He slumps to the floor, his legs flailing around when the leather horrifyingly tightens around him. There’s a spiral of fire underneath his navel, a sensation that is neither pleasurable or painful, but somewhere in between. It tingles and it itches, turning and twisting deep under his skin, where the belt encircles his body. Astarion groans, uselessly tugging on it with clammy hands, but it’s all pointless.

Like so many times before, he cannot do anything to save himself.

His eyes turn to look at the closed bedroom door, he wants to scream, to call for Tav, but no sound ever comes out of his mouth.

A veil of darkness slowly falls over his eyes and he feels himself dangerously slipping away, losing consciousness.

**

When Astarion opens his eyes again, he is still lying on the floor, blankly staring at the embers of the dying fire in the hearth.

He quickly gets up before furiously patting his waist to see if the belt is still there.  

And to his horror, it still is. 

What did that thing do to him ? 

As he thoroughly inspects his body, he imagines all the terrible ways in which it could have altered his appearance or violated his physical integrity. 

Giving him a dragon tail.

Covering his skin with countless dark scales. 

Gracing him with an extra leg or arm.

Or god forbid, messing up with his hair and dashing looks!

Nothing feels different at first and it takes him a few seconds to notice the way his clothes don’t fit him anymore. His sleeves are too long, his breeches are tighter around his backside but feel too wide around his waist. Everything sags and slides off of his figure. 

It’s only when he looks down to tie the laces of his ruffled shirt a little tighter that he finally understands. There, standing still in front of the dim glow of the lit candelabras, he can clearly see the way the neckline hangs unusually low on his chest, down to his stomach, generously exposing his chest … Or what should have been his chest. 

Two pale breasts emerge from under the frills instead, round and dainty. 

For a moment, he thinks he is hallucinating or dreaming, that it is merely a side-effect of the crippling fear he felt just a little while ago. His shaky hands glide over them, weighing the supple and sensitive flesh, making it move and bounce against his ribs, until he eventually comes to the dreadful conclusion that it feels too real to be an illusion. Then, he anxiously tugs on the waistband and notices that things also changed quite a bit down in the confines of his pants. 

His manhood is nowhere to be seen. 

“No no no, this cannot be happening!” he starts panicking, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace like a caged lion, “What in the sweet hells am I supposed to do now? I should’ve left this stupid belt where it was!”

Even his voice is also considerably different— higher pitched than it was before but still slightly lower than Tav’s, rich and warm toned but undeniably feminine. 

His eyes frantically dart around, looking for something and anything that could be of use to undo this mess. What if he cut through the leather and forcibly took the belt off? 

Astarion grabs one of his daggers, determined to violently tear his way through it, even if he has to hurt himself in the process. He has already placed the blade against his belly, its sharpness digging both into the band and into his skin, when he hears a hushed sound next door. The wood board creaks and soon, the door cracks open. 

Right when he thought things couldn’t get worse, Tav appears on the threshold, all messy hair and sleepy eyes. 

“Astarion? I heard a loud noise,” she says, rubbing her eyes and yawning, “Is everything alright?”

He quickly turns his back to her and crosses his arms on his chest to hide the evidence of his condition.

“Of course, my love,” he coughs, ridiculously trying to lower his voice and mimic what used to be so effortless, “ I’m sorry I woke you up, go back to sleep, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

There’s a beat of silence before he hears her draw closer, her naked feet silently treading on the floor behind him. Her scent washes over him and he almost instinctively turns around to find refuge in her arms. 

“You are obviously not okay,” she gently says as she lays a warm hand on his shoulder, “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

He grows tense, restless, when she bends over to try and see his face. She is so close that she could see the way he is drowning in his own clothes, or notice the way his voice doesn’t even remotely sound like him anymore.

“Astarion,” she asks again, more insistently this time, “Please, talk to me.” 

He knows that he is only buying time : he won’t be able to hide it from her for long and he doesn’t know how to handle this problem on his own. His lover also happens to be wonderfully stubborn, she won’t leave him alone until she knows what is troubling him.

“Promise me you won’t laugh or get angry, darling,” he finally answers, nervously fumbling with the seam of his ill-fitting night shirt. 

“You’re starting to scare me.” 

He stiffly turns around to face her, waiting for her to scold him for his carelessness.

But, strangely enough, the rebuke never comes. 

Tav’s eyes grow wide at first, she looks him up and down a few times, frantically staring at his chest then at his hips before looking up at his face again. After a few seconds, her gaze settles on his half exposed breasts and she goes red as a beetroot.  

“Gods above,” she gasps, doing her best to look him in the eyes but failing abysmally, “What happened ?”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Astarion thinks, suddenly a little less worried about the whole endeavor. He simply did not expect her to be so … enthralled by his new appearance. There’s a glint in her eyes that he has learnt to recognize. It reminds him of the nights they spent around the campfire all those months ago, back when he was still courting her and back when she still blushed whenever he looked her way. Now, whenever she is giving him that particular look, it doesn’t take long before her clothes are off, and he has his mouth or hands on her. 

“Well, a very unfortunate accident might or might not have taken place while you were asleep,” he giggles, taking a few steps towards her, until he is so close he can smell all the oils she rubbed on her skin earlier, while it was still wet and flushed from her bath.

Notes of lavender and vanilla gently float in the air.

She shakily points at his belt before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me it’s because of this belt that you are wearing. Where did you even find it?”

“I have no idea, darling. All I know is that I forgot I had it in my bag and when I tried the wicked little thing on, ta-da ! It had a little surprise in store for me.”

He dramatically gestures towards his body, like he is a magician doing a trick on a stage and he is the main attraction of his own show. 

“If I’m right, there’s a bad news and a good one,” she solemnly declares, comically stealing a few more glances at his chest before continuing her very serious explanation, “ If I’m right, this girdle is probably a very rare cursed item. I read about it in a book a long time ago, and it completely changes the wearer’s sex. Now, the good news is that it’s not irreversible.”

“So what is the plan? What do we do next?” 

Her eyes follow the motion of his lips while he talks and he wonders if they changed as much as the rest of him did. “Would you like a little taste, my love ?” he internally laughs, ready to give her a long and thorough kiss nevertheless.

“A remove curse spell should do just fine,” she sighs again, quickly heading back towards the bedroom like she is suddenly eager to put some distance between them, “I think I have a scroll in my satchel.” 

He trails behind her and pensively stands near the bed while she kneels on the floor, looking through the few spell scrolls that she always keeps in her little leather bag. 

“There, this should be enough to turn you back to your old self,” she says after a little while, proudly holding the rolled piece of paper in her hand, “Come, I’ll free you of whatever this is.” 

Astarion closes the distance between them and, once again, she cannot help but blush under his gaze. Her little heart hammers in her chest and blood rushes to her face, cheeks tinged with pink.

She is about to unfold the scroll and read it out loud when his hand shoots up to curl around her wrist.

“Wait, don’t use it yet, darling.” 

Now that he knows that there is a remedy, a way out, his outlook on the situation is changing. 

A single lecherous thought is at the forefront of Astarion’s mind. 

Why not enjoy this while he can? He’d be an idiot not to make the most out of it.

He wants to make love to her in this body, he wants her to touch him while he is in this shape, he wants to know what it feels like for her when she comes on his hand or finds release while he thrusts inside of her— 

“Why?” she asks, abruptly bringing him back to reality and interrupting his lewd thoughts. 

When he touches her again to cradle her face in his hands, there’s a shakiness to his movements, a hint of uncertainty in the way he holds her. His thumb tenderly traces her lower lip and he leans to press a small yet lingering kiss there. Entirely chaste compared to the way he would usually entangle his tongue with hers, take his sweet time to savor her. 

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” 

The words hang in the air, like another kind of spell, bold and electrifying. They make her drop the scroll that she had in her hand, and hungrily chase his lips in return. 

“I have,” she says as soon as their mouths separate, puffy from how passionately she threw herself at him,“It doesn’t matter to me, I don’t really think about such things.”

This is not uncommon amongst elves, he knows it. The great sexual freedom of his people extends far beyond such futile considerations, many of the elves he has crossed paths with in his two hundred years of existence were versatile lovers. Seeking pleasure in the arms of whoever caught their eye or stole their hearts : in men, in women, and in all the beauty that lies in between. 

“I know that look in your eyes, I’ve seen it a thousand times before,” his delicate hand traces her collarbone and the soft swell of her bust under the collar of her night shirt, “You want me.” 

Tav leans a little bit more into him, pupils all but blown under the shadow of her long lashes, and something about this all affair suddenly becomes unbearable. 

“Would you please teach me, darling? What feels good,” he murmurs, taking her hand and languidly placing it under his shirt, pressing her palm on his naked breast, right above where his beating heart should be, “I want to know more about women’s heavenly anatomies… and about yours.”

The sensation sends thrills of pleasure down his spine and he lets out the softest of sighs. Her eyes roam his body, unbashful. If she could undress him with them, he is pretty sure all of his clothes would be gone by now. Magically torn off his body by whatever enchantment resides in those spellbinding irises. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, Astarion?” she quietly asks, moving her fingers to gently toy with his nipple under the thin cotton fabric, making him throb in his pants. 

The sensation is unfamiliar, unsettlingly delectable, but he gladly welcomes it, already entrusting her with all that he is. 

He drags her closer by the hips, brushing his lips against her jaw and neck. "I am, if the fact that I’m so turned on I could come right now is any indication.” 

It’s all the answer she needs before she urgently shoves him onto the bed and straddles his hips, like she has so many times before. She only stops to clumsily take his shirt off his back and bare his chest to her hungry eyes. 

“You need to tell me if anything feels uncomfortable, alright? And I’ll stop right away,” she blurts out, barely leaving him enough time to nod before she captures his mouth in a searing kiss again. 

Astarion’s fingers greedily glide through her braid, unmaking it, untying one more long lock of her hair each time her lips hypnotically moves against his. How many times has he thought while embracing her that he will never ever grow tired of the way she feels ? He could be at death’s door, graciously offered by the gods to experience one very last earthly pleasure, and he’d still choose to have her like this all over again. Every single one of the kisses she gives him always simultaneously feels like it’s the first and the last one she’ll ever give him. Unmatched in its glory and desperate in its fervor.

Tav pushes him down in the cushions and he lies under her, deliciously at her mercy. 

Offering his body to her, naked from the waist up, trembling with desire. 

He grumbles when her lips eventually leave him, traveling down his chest instead. She occasionally likes to lick or kiss his nipples during sex, butthis feels entirely different. Her warm palms slide on the sides of his bust, pressing his boobs against her face so she can grace them with a few precise and hot swipes of her tongue. One obscene moan echoes in the room when she takes his nipple in her mouth. 

Sucking and rolling it between her plump lips.  

It takes him a bit of time to understand that he is the one making that sound, that he is throwing his head back and lifting his hips off the bed each time glides her tongue over his skin. 

How prettily she makes him chant and sing without even getting him out of his pants.

Two dark eyes lift to stare at him. The fluttering flame of the lit lantern on the nightstand eerily reflected in those black pits, ablaze with lust.

His lover shifts on top of him and her long and untamed hair make her look like one of those goddess statues, in the hushed darkness of some abandoned temples, tall and magnificent when their crowned heads reach the sky. Astarion wants to worship her, kneel at her feet in boundless reverence, but she isn’t done bestowing her graces upon him yet. She won’t allow it.

“You’re so beautiful, Astarion” she breathes, admiring her work with a devotion that is not unlike his, caressing his skin like he is made of a celestial material that a mortal like her shouldn’t be allowed to touch, “ Then and now… You always were and always will be.”

The sight of her like this, perched on top of him, disheveled and divine, is almost enough to make him tumble over the edge.

And she hasn’t even touched him properly yet .  

Her thumbs draw little circles on his nipples as she continues to hold his boobs in the palms of her hand. “Look how red and wet they are, so out of place in the middle of all that milky white skin. Makes me want to tease you until they are all aching and bruised.” 

Nails scraping the sensitive skin of his ribs and belly, her hands skim over the belt and settle on his clothed groin. One of her fingers dips down to trace it, rubbing the fabric of his underwear and pants on his sweetest spot. 

“I wonder if you would look the same down here,” she whispers, sliding down the length of his body to lie between his opened legs, “If I licked you again and again and turned you into a quivering mess.”

She has a mouth on her, in every sense of the term. The things she says wrap around his body as he pictures them in his mind, like a sensuous and depraved phantom touch.

“Why don’t you see for yourself, my love?” 

A dangerous smile settles on her lips and in a flash, she leans back and rips his pants down, throwing them somewhere on the floor behind her. She leans on his naked thigh, her long curls draping over his knee, tickling him as she lays tender and featherlight kisses up his leg. It’s sweet and it’s wicked, the way she keeps torturing him with the feeling of her cheek and mouth nuzzling against his skin.

Leaving him wanting more. Never quite giving him enough of her to satiate his hunger.

Astarion starts to squirm, growing impatient under her ministrations, but she seems to be purposefully ignoring what’s under her nose, literally. She chuckles, nibbling and biting his mound as she finally parts him with her fingers. Still making an effort not to touch him anywhere that feels good. 

Dazed and limp with desire, he distantly hears her say that he looks gorgeous, pink and dripping with arousal. 

But it is all starting to be too much for him, he wants her so much it’s painful. All of his muscles tense and contract every time she caresses any part of his body.

“Darling,” he says, half a groan, half a complaint, when she resumes her little game and denies him his pleasure once again. 

“You did this to me so many times, remember ?” she asks, tentatively hovering above the apex of his thighs, “Touching me everywhere but where I wanted you to, making me wait for the moment you would finally kiss me between my legs. I’m merely giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

Every time she talks and breathes right above his pulsating slit, he twitches and moans a little. 

“If you say please, I’ll consider it,” she smirks, unconsciously inching a little closer already.

He grips the sheets in his clenched fists, unable to go on without her touching him in some way anymore. 

“Fuck fuck ” he rumbles, glaring down at her before finally giving in to her request, “Please, darling. For the love of god, please put your mouth on me.”

And miraculously she does. 

He releases one long indecent moan when she finally takes him in her pretty mouth, sucking relentlessly, until the room is filled with wet vulgar sounds. 

The pleasure he feels in this body is a thumping ecstasy, like something taking flight in his lower belly, fluttering its wings in his core. Both the butterfly and the flower lie between his hips, dripping with morning dew when she kisses him with her tongue. 

It’s messy and he keeps waiting for the moment it’ll finally fly away and sore higher, reaching the great and promised euphoria.

If it’s what it feels like when I go down on you, he confusedly thinks, his head lolling to the side when her fingers leave his hips to gently prod at his entrance, I should do it every single day. 

“You said you wanted to know more about a woman’s body. Allow me to show you something, a little place you will adore, hm? ”

She rests the side of her devastatingly beautiful face on his thigh like she did earlier, patiently looking up at him. Waiting for him to say that she can put her fingers inside him, he realises. 

Astarion reaches down, cradling her cheek in his palm, wiping her soaked chin and mouth with his thumb.

“I’m all yours, darling. I always am, do what you will with me,” he huskily says, chest heaving and voice breaking along the edges. 

Tav smiles, so tenderly that he almost wants to drag her up and have his ways with her already. The rest be damned. 

He has no time to delve on that thought before she is back on him again, her index deliciously finding its way in his warmth, pressing inside as she endlessly laps his clit. Then, she adds another finger, creeping a little higher with every up-and-down motion of her hand. Fabulously stretching and filling him up.

There’s a specific spot that she hits after a little while, so far inside it might be not too far from his cervix, that makes him tremble and say incoherent things. 

Sluggishly going on and on about how heavenly she feels; how her lips are heavenly when they press on whatever part of his body; or how her hands must’ve been blessed by the goddess Sune.

Astarion gasps as she latches on him one last time, and suddenly, here it is. 

The orgasmic delirium of his release. 

Nothing rushing out of him like it usually would. Just fireworks inside. A few powerful wing strokes in the gloom of his new anatomy. 

So intense that he doesn’t make any sound, simply convulses time and time again, while she helps him fly through his high a little longer. 

When his mind clears a little, she is straddling him again. Still completely dressed against his naked body, looking at him like he is the most glorious thing she’s ever seen. 

“So how did you like that? Not disappointed?” she says, smoothing out a few of his silver curls and gently caressing his face. 

He giggles like she just said the stupidest of things, incredulously shaking his head. “If I’m disappointed? Darling, that was … amazing.” 

It is dark enough for them to leave the inn and roam the city once again, it has been for quite a little while now. 

But Astarion is not ready to go yet.

It is his turn to give her pleasure now and nothing will stop him from making love to her for a few more hours.

“So amazing in fact that I’m dying to see if I remember what you showed me correctly,” he adds, flipping them around until he is on top of her, “Would you help me make sure of it, my love?”

Her shirt is the first thing he peels off of her, crushing his nose in between her boobs to bathe himself in her scent. 

The one that lies underneath all of her perfume, the primal scent of her skin and blood, the distinct aroma of her body that he would recognize everywhere. In a crowded street. In a room filled with strangers. 

Her pants and underwear slide off her legs as he is already pulling her first moans out of her. 

He is about to slide her legs on his shoulders, ready to feast on her, when she speaks again. 

“Bite me, Astarion,” she says, and his hips involuntarily thrust against the mattress, chasing a friction that is now completely out of reach. 

Her legs open a little wider for him, the veins of her thigh quickly pulsating under the soft unmarred skin. He has never bitten her there yet, it is still a blank canvas, ready for him to leave his mark.  

“Please,” she persists, nudging gently on his head to get him closer to where she wants him to sink his teeth.

Desire has only barely left his body that it is back, stronger than before, as he presses countless desperate and hurried kisses right where he is about to make her bleed. 

“You know I can’t refuse you anything, my love.”

The bite is slow, unhurried, affectionate in its own brutal way, and they both moan when blood starts to rush in his mouth.

These days, he has learnt to take his time when he feeds on her, lingering as long as he can against her, petting her hair, caressing her skin, hugging her tighter. This time though, his touch doesn’t aim to comfort or soothe her.

No, this time he almost makes her come with his hands while he drinks from her. Playing with the hood of her clit until it swells with desire, hungrily watching it pulsate under his finger. 

When his teeth leave her skin, Tav whines, slick and spread in front of his bloody mouth. 

He’s had his fill of her and yet, Astarion still wants to devour her, in more ways than the ones he already has.

Red trickles down from the raw bite and onto her inner thigh. Dripping down on her slit and mixing with the small glistening river that is already pouring out of her.

It makes him shudder, his scarlet eyes glowing bright in the dim atmosphere, staring in awe at the ways she oozes blood and liquid pleasure. Before she has time to move or shy away, he hungrily plunges his tongue inside her. His eyes roll in the back of his head when he tastes her blood and her wetness all at once. She is everywhere, on his tongue, around his fingers, endlessly running down his throat. He vaguely hears her moan prettily again, too engrossed in his task and half-delirious from how infatuating she is. Soon, she comes into his open and sucking mouth again, reverently calling his name time and time again. Her hand tightens in his curls, thighs violently shaking against his cheeks, twitching as he continues to eat her like a maddened beast. 

With each new flick of his tongue she sighs and groans, overstimulated.

“Where is the scroll, my love ?” he asks, kissing his way up her belly, smearing blood around her belly button and chest, until he sloppily finds her mouth again. Making her taste herself on his tongue.

Their breasts press against each other, pillowy and sensitive, and he relaxes further into her. 

How perfectly their bodies mold against each other when he is like this…two sides of the same coin, two mirrored reflections, two works of art traced from the same model. 

“Somewhere on the floor.”

Tav’s touch travels between their bodies, past his hips, until she is drawing circles there once again. She voraciously licks and nibbles along the column of his throat, her fingers rhythmically moving in and out of him while she abuses his nape, deftly playing with this new and sweet part of his body.

“I want to be inside you, darling,” he begs in her hair, out of breath and blinded by pleasure,“ Please, get this damn belt off of me. I want to move inside you until you see stars, I want to make you come on my cock.” 

She lets out a shuddered breath and fumbles in the dark, bending down to look for it. As soon as she finds it, she says the words, loud and clear. The girdle starts to shine again, and she unbuckles it from his hips with shaky hands, clumsily sliding it off his hips and throwing it away on the floor.

The transition to his old body isn’t as scary and spectacular as the transformation was. It’s like an expansion, a big breath taken after long minutes spent underwater, a soothing wave washing over him and his scorched body. He slumps against her with a groan, toes curling against the sheets when he’s finally back into his original form. 

The soft press of her lips on his forehead is the first thing he feels, and the gentle words she speaks against his skin are the first thing he hears, “Welcome back, love.” 

Her wide and wet eyes skim over his features, admiring his face with a fondness that is not lost on him. His heavy and aching length falls against her lower belly, leaking with precum, as they lovingly stare at each other.

“Already hard?” Tav chuckles, smiling up at him in the way that makes the pretty dimples on the side of her mouth more visible. 

“What do you mean 'already' ? I always want you, whenever, wherever. You just have no idea how much—”

Pleasure unexpectedly coils in his belly as she takes him in her hand again, coaxing a low growl out of his chest when she languorously slides her fingers up and down. “Show me then.”

She could make him come like this, just a few of her expert caresses, and he’d reach his climax again. For what feels like the hundredth time of the night. 

It is not exactly what he has in mind though.

Tav moves to unhurriedly fondle his back and hips, caressing every bit of skin while he kisses her long and hard. When her hands land on his ass, she deliciously squeezes.

A renewed invitation to make love to her. 

He doesn’t resist for long, she looks far too beautiful for him to be able to. Hair spread around her on the sheets, a pearly sheen of sweat on her feverish skin, her soft thighs impatiently draping around his hips like a new sort of magical belt. 

The bed creaks under them when he enters her, inch by inch, with a few slow and sensual thrusts of his hips. Deeper and further every time. 

“As much as I loved our little 'experiment', this is still the way I like you the best,” he whispers against her cheek, peppering little kisses everywhere on her face, “Sprawled under me, legs spread open, all flushed and ready to welcome me.” 

A few drops of sweat trickle down his spine as he tries to contain himself, relishing in the way she is tightly wrapped around his length and body. Gods, he wants to move harder into her, find the sweet spot that she showed him earlier and make her sob. 

But she is still trembling after her orgasm, shivering in the afterglow. He keeps an excruciatingly slow rhythm for a little while, up until he feels her growing restless, hips lifting off the mattress and meeting each of his thrusts with one of her own.

“I just thought of another way to put what I learnt into practice,” he says, lewdly licking the shell of her pointy ear to make her twitch and spasm between her legs.

“How?” she asks, a sound that is more akin to a breathy moan than a word.

“Like this.” 

He swiftly slips out of her and turns her flat on her belly. As much as he likes seeing her face while he makes love to her, admiring the way pleasure washes over her when she comes, this is much better for what he has in mind. 

The headboard violently slams into the wall as he settles into her again in one perfect thrust. 

“Ah-ah-Astarion,” she moans into the pillow, her ears and nape taking a lovely pink shade, “What-”

One of his hands snakes underneath her body, pressing firmly on her lower belly and lifting her backside up in the air. He kneels behind her and angles his hips slightly differently, rolling them against her times and times again until he hits that delicious spot inside, the one that made him wail earlier.

So deep that he feels like he is melting away into her skin, disappearing into her body.

She has never made such beautiful sounds before, a string of choked and melodic moans in the middle of which he thinks he hears his name from time to time.

Tav is the first to come, stringing him along towards the edge and screaming “ I love you ” so loud that he is sure everyone in the inn is hearing her.

How scandalous… he thinks, bending down to kiss her back and prolong her ecstasy, loud lovemaking in broad daylight, I hope the owner likes what she's hearing.

They fall on their sides, facing each other again, legs entangled and foreheads pressed against each other. 

“So much for letting you rest…” he jokes, staring at all the little specks of green in her irises, like moss on a forest’s soil.

She laughs, a warm and comforting sound that is enough to silence most of his fears and worries.

“This is resting in my vocabulary.”

Her heart is so loud he could almost believe it’s his own, thumping hard against the blood-stained sheets. Astarion wouldn’t be surprised if loving her made it beat once again some day, she always makes him feel so very… full of life.

Maybe the cure was never in any of the countless realms and cities they have visited, maybe it was in his arms. All along. 

“You gave me such a fright,” she sighs, curling against him, like a little ball of sunlight, “but it was fun, you were so very dazzling with that belt on.” 

“Which Astarion did you prefer, darling?” he laughs, curling one strand of her hair around his finger, “I could put it back on if you liked the other version more.”

She looks up at him to answer, taking his face in her hands and giving him countless little small kisses. On his nose. On his temples. In the middle of his eyebrows. On his cupid’s bow. 

“I love you just the way you are, intensely, deeply, irrevocably,” she says, a light so bright in her eyes they almost look golden, “I wouldn’t have you any other way, you silly silly man. Don’t you ever doubt it.”

Why do you always read into me like in an opened book ? Why do you always say the things I so desperately need to hear ?” he marvels, wondering how a wretched creature like him ever managed to win the heart of a woman like Tav.

“So please let’s sell this cursed thing, tomorrow,” she says, hugging him a little tighter, before chuckling again, “Even if your boobs were truly glorious.” 

“I love you too, darling,” he whispers in her ears, her hips buckling under his hands, “so much that those three little words are never quite enough to express what I feel for you.” 

His thoughts drift back to the ring he left on the floor earlier, the little jewel that would mean more than the countless sweet words he could croon to her.

“There’s something I’d like to give you,” he says, reluctantly loosening his hold on her and getting up, “Just a minute, my love.”

Astarion hurries back to the main room to fetch it, all buttnaked and glorious. He ridiculously searches through all of the little treasures he has left scattered in front of the fireplace earlier until he finally gets hold of it. Anxiously wondering if tonight is the right night for any of this. 

When he comes back, she is still all stretched out and naked in the crumpled sheets of the bed in which he just made love to her. She playfully stares back at him, like she expects him to show her another one of the weird items he keeps in his bag, something that would get them into another sex-crazed frenzy. 

He kneels at the feet of the bed instead and her eyes grow wide and teary. 

“Will you marry me, darling?” he says, voice growing hoarse, presenting the ring to her in his trembling hand. “I know that life by my side isn’t exactly blissful at the moment, that all I can offer to you are run-down tavern rooms and countless nights spent wandering through all of Faerûn but — Would you still stay with me now and forever? I have aimlessly roamed this land for more two hundred years now, enchained and enslaved, wondering what the true purpose of my existence was. And then I’ve met you, I’ve known you, I’ve loved you. And I could go through each and every of the things I had to endure all over again, all the pain, all the sufferings, if only I had the certainty of meeting you on the other side of hell. You make all of my hardships meaningful. You are the light I did not expect to find in all of that darkness.”

A few tears silently fall down her cheeks, her lips trembling as she tries to speak a few times. At loss for words. 

“So will you keep shining down on me or not?” he asks again, and she frantically nods, giving him the brightest smile he has ever seen her make. 

The bed creaks so loud when she hops down from it that he is sure it’s broken. She throws herself against him and he almost falls back on the floor, awkwardly resting on his forearms while she buries her face in his neck. 

Sobbing, laughing — or both at the same time, he is not sure. 

“Yes,” she starts repeating again and again, choking on her tears, “A thousand times yes, Astarion.”

He kisses long and deep, until she is all out of breath, laughing in his arms like she just had one too many glasses of wine. 

Drunk on love. 

They spend the day and the following night in bed that night instead of looking through the city for the ring of the Sunwalker’s gift, holding each other through the darkest hours, trancing and dreaming about a future that doesn’t seem so out of reach anymore. 

In the sun or in the dark. 

But together, forever. 

[chaoticbardlady99]

Colored Seams (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Cazador is dead and the Spawn were released to the Underdark. You and Astarion could not be happier in the days that follow in spite of the looming Netherbrain Threat. You decide to do both of your laundry when a tragedy occurs- you accidentally destroyed his blanket.

CW: Dead Dove, Panic attack symptoms, fluffy, suggestive content, no specific pronouns mentioned or character traits

Author Note: Nobody’s Fool and Floozy are going to be updated tomorrow :)

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated- thank you so much for reading 💜 pic is mine

Cazador is dead- well he’s been dead for a solid week now, but, with the nature of this adventure, that even feels like months ago.

Astarion sent the spawn to the Underdark, he remarked his grave, and his spirit seems lighter. He has a lot more pep in his step, jokes more easily, and he has been very, very into PDA. Lae’zel has even gone out of her way to remark on how affectionate he has been with you in public.

Astarion’s confidence in himself is still a work in progress, but it makes your heart sing to know that he is slowly beginning to heal and you promised, in spite of the lack of sun your future holds, that you will be by his side to support him every step of the way.

He’s been exceptionally physically affectionate- you are still sore from the last several days of him ‘indulging’ in his newfound freedom. The sheets are a mess, your clothes are a mess, his clothes are a mess, and you are not about to let either one of you go out in obviously sex stained clothing.

You had decided to wash yours and Astarion’s things while he begrudgingly helped Gale retrieve old tomes from Sorcerer Sundries- Rolan’s recent instatement has allowed for Gale to read just about every tomb in the massive magic shop.

Ever since everyone found out Astarion could use spider climb, they have been asking him for his help in various tasks- he charges everyone (minus you, of course).

Gale had actually dragged Astarion along because he is technically looking for a book on your behalf for Astarion. He doesn’t know, but you and Gale have already begun the search for a Ring of Sunwalking.

Astarion loves the sun so much and you want to be able to give it to him- you all do. You could not be more proud of him and you find you enjoy acts of services and gift giving when it comes to him. He has had so little for so long and no one was taking care of him or making him feel special. You are very thankful that you get to be the one who provides him with these experiences.

For now, you don’t have a gift so you are going to surprise him with clean clothes!

He usually does the laundry because you hate doing it (something he learned and just kinda picked up on). You told him he didn’t need to and you feel bad for being a nuisance, but he would just roll his eyes, kiss you, and saunter off in the direction of the wash tub or wait until you are asleep so you can’t fret about it.

Astarion is actually quite adorable in his laundry routine- he even has a bag specifically for laundry soaps and scents. The man is right- he really did miss his calling as a perfumer.

You started with both your clothes. You used herbs for scent, soap for cleanliness, and Halsin helped to dry them with Wind. You then moved onto your bed sheets.

However, you realize you made a horrific mistake after it’s far, far too late.

Astarion’s comfort blanket, his first and only item while under Cazador, was torn apart. It had gotten twisted inside the sheets and it already hadn’t been strong enough to begin with. You didn’t even know you threw it in with the rest! You would never do that on purpose! You know it has to be washed gently and carefully.

“Tav?”

You are crying, entirely unaware of the fact that Halsin is widely concerned as you stare in horror at the murder scene before you.

“I destroyed his blanket!” Your voice is strained and your eyes must look as crazy as you feel because Halsin is looking very concerned for you.

“I am sure he will under-“

You are hyperventilating- there is no rhyme or reason and it doesn’t seem to matter what Halsin says- your mind is spiraling a mile a minute into oblivion.

He is going to dump you- Gods he may even leave and that thought terrifies you more than anything else.

You feel your lungs collapse in your chest and you can’t breathe.

You just wanted to do something nice for him.

You rush back to your bed after a brief pit stop at your shared room (you were forced, Gale was tired of waking up to you and Astarion being ‘adults’)- and you have pulled out every piece of yarn you can find. The majority of the blanket is intact, but there are chunks that have been unraveled.

The yarn is a faded gray color and all you have is your favorite color of yarn and a passionate hatred for mending things. It’s thankfully the same consistency and thickness, but Withers only knows how much time and patience you have.

Back to the room you go.

It takes you a few moments to study the pattern, but you immediately begin your work. Your fingers are pricked and sore, unsteady and clumsy. You have never been the best sewer, knitter, etc. so you can only hope that it can make up for even the smallest bit of destruction.

You finish right as you hear his voice ring through the main room- he is heckling Gale about something and you feel like you may very well vomit.

You had moved your things to the corner, just in case, but you still aren’t prepared to face him. Your tears begin to fall again.

You destroyed his blanket.

You are shaking and there is a lump forming in your throat as you try to stop your tears, ready to face probably one of the worst moments on this journey thus far.

He walks into your shared room- all smiles, but his mood quickly changes when he notices all of your things are packed away and your cheeks are tear stained. He looks sick with worry and now you feel even worse.

“My love?” Astarion’s frantic voice makes your stomach turn, “my love- what did I do wrong? What is it? How can I fix this?”

He is already at your side- Astarion’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and he is going to reach for you, but you just hold out the blanket between you.

The silence in the room is deafening and when he takes it- you clasp your shaking hands together and stare at your feet.

Astarion certainly must hate you- there is no way he can forgive you for this.

“I-I was just trying to do our laundry,” you whisper, “and I didn’t realize your blanket was rolled up inside our sheets and it… it fell apart.

“I tried to fix it the best I could, but I- I already know this is unforgivable and I am so unbelievably sorry, Astarion, and I know we are definitely over after this, but please don’t leave. I don’t want you to get hurt or turned into a mindflayer and if it’s that painful, I will just leave and-“

You and your rambling mouth are engulfed in a massive hug that stuns you to your core and you feel cool lips press a gentle kiss to your temple.

You fall apart- all the fear and anxiety from the last few hours has finally hit you. You are struggling to contain yourself and self-regulation isn’t happening. Every abandonment wound you have ever had has been ripped open and left to bleed everywhere inside the room.

“I’m so sorry,” you are still a mess, “I am so so sorry, Astarion.”

“My Dear,” he pulls back, tilting your chin so you are looking at him, “it is okay. I forgive you.”

You blink a few times with your lower lip still trembling. Astarion’s smile is sad as he wipes away your tears and kisses the space around the corners of your mouth before placing one on the tip of your nose. He smiles brightly when your lips finally curve upward a bit.

“At the beginning of this journey, I think I would have been exceptionally mad,” he admits, “but, now? Well, my Love,” he smiles at the blanket in his hand, “I was considering getting rid of it- it’s a reminder of my past in a lot of ways I don’t wish to remember.

“It’s perfect now- it feels like it belongs to me again and not the person Cazador bullied me into being,” his eyes glow with happiness, “I also know you despise this kind of activity and doing laundry- I greatly appreciate you doing both for me this evening, my Dear.”

Your smile cracks open your face and your tears are now filled with relief. You hug him tightly and he holds you back- equally as relieved that it wasn’t a big deal.

And it’s not- Astarion genuinely isn’t all that upset about it. Sure it’s not ideal, but you know what no one has ever done for him before? Fix something of his they broke- or at the very least attempted to. He finds himself grinning like a moron at your clumsy stitching and he adores that your favorite color is brightening up the blanket much like you have brightened up his entire world.

Nor has anyone done his laundry! You did a really good job too.

“You are very good at laundry, my dear,” he muses, “maybe I need to have you teach me some time.”

He can hear you roll your eyes as you put away your items again. Astarion began making the bed- you in all of your panic had completely forgotten to do.

“Oh please- we both know it’s a miracle I didn’t turn everything pink again by accident!”

You had made the mistake of grabbing a red bottle thinking it was laundry soap (at the beginning of the journey, mind you) and your stuff looked ridiculous because the bottle had actually been dyed. Your hands looked like you had just come back from brutalizing someone. Astarion had been the one to help you reverse the horrid mistake.

“That is a positive,” he laughs, coming up behind you and admiring the way you smile in the mirror while he wraps his arms around you, “I am glad I won’t be in some blotchy reddish, pink attire.”

“We would be matching ALL THE TIME though.”

“That, my Love, did not make you dying my laundry pink anymore appealing.”

You throw your head back with laughter- your makeup has created lines down your neck with your tears and you still haven’t had a chance to bathe nor has Astarion.

Astarion plays with the hem of your pants and kisses along your neck.

“You know, practice does make perfect,” he murmurs against your thrumming pulse, “and cleaning another would certainly be good laundry practice.”

You hum in agreement, “that is a good point and I could certainly use the practice.”

“I would be more than happy to demonstrate- I have been told I am an excellent teacher.”

Your grin is wide and your eyes are blown wide with lust- it makes him incredibly satisfied to see you react to him in the mirror and knowing that only he can make you feel this way.

You grab his hand, pulling him towards the washroom.

“We best get started then. I am an eager pupil, after all.”

Astarion’s grin threatens to split open his face and he allows you to pull him along- throwing the blanket onto the bed so that you can mend yourselves together in a different kind of way.

[dez78]

Astarion's Path

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Warnings: Mentions of torture, torment, blood

Summary: Astarion has forged a new path for himself, a path into the light.

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

After the defeat of Cazador, Astarion not only saved himself from becoming a monster, but he redeemed himself, freed himself. Then after defeating the Elder Brain and saving Baldur's Gate, as well as the world. He got deemed a hero, everyone who came near him, praised the ground he walked on. He saved everyone from becoming slaves to the mind flayers. Himself included.

With this newfound hope in his heart and his heroic acts, his heart becoming much softer and his compassion for others becoming his new self. He to the surprise of everyone, especially his closest friends, joined the church of Lathander and became his champion, Paladin.

This was his rebirth, his new beginning as a free vampire spawn. With the sunwalker's gift, he became a paladin of dawn and light. A fitting narrative for him.

Astarion's ultimate goal is to free as many slaves from the clutches of their masters as he possibly can. Whether it be spawn or not. Everyone deserves a chance to be free.

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

The prison cell was dark, damp, and eerily silent. A sickly suffocating, the cell clung to her like a second skin. The scent of mildew mingled with her own blood, caking her torn flesh where the whip had kissed her skin. Every nerve in her body screamed, her mind swimming with agony.

Her master promised to be back, like he always does. He wasn't done breaking her tonight or was it day? She couldn't tell. She had no tears left to shed- only whispers faint and hoarse, slipping from her cracked lips.

"Please...anyone...hear me." She rasped, her voice only a ghost of her former self.

"Send me a savior...please...I beg you." She pleaded with a sorrowful soul. Her head still sagging.

"Selune...Lathander...Ilmater...Anyone. Please, save me. I cannot endure this much longer." She whimpered pathetically. She was desperate for any kind of answer.

For hours, only the sound of dripping water from the ceiling and the distant clank of metal could be heard. The woman was still in her cell, her master hadn't returned, but she knew the gods didn't answer her pleas. She thought maybe, they didn't respond to spawn. That they already thought them unworthy of help.

The thought of being abandoned by the gods, tore into her soul further, crushing her hopes. Perhaps this was to be her fate, to rot in this cell, to be forgotten.

Then the silence was shattered. The woman's head shot up when she heard the sound of steel against steel. The guttural growls of her master's minions. The distant clamor erupted above. The sound of battle was unmistakable. For the first time in a long time, she felt hope. The noises were wild, frenzied, and relentless.

The sounds drew nearer, she could hear the battle take place just outside the prison. The guards were being attacked. Hope flared into her chest.

The sounds of battle died out, for a few moments, it was still silence again. Then the sound of the prison door being unlocked and opened. For a moment the golden rays of light were blinding as they lit up the dark prison.

The woman made out a figure through the glowing light. It was as if the sun was shining into the dark, dank cells. The armored boots resounded in the dark as the figure made their way down the steps.

Lighting up every inch of dark with their holy light. Resplendent in golden armor that shimmered like sunlight piercing through the darkness. A lance gripped in his hand radiated an otherworldly brilliance bathing the dungeon in warm, golden light.

The woman immediately recognized the weapon that bore such light, it was the lance of Lathander. A divine relic. Her breath hitched, could it be that her prayers were heard after all? The man's silver curls gleamed under the light, and his crimson eyes burning with purpose.

She knew him, this was the Paladin of freedom. The liberator of chains, the golden knight, the light walker, the infamous...

"You're the Sunborne, aren't you." The woman said breathlessly almost as if she didn't believe it. Astarion's smile was gentle as he unlocked the cell door with a gauntleted hand.

"I am." He replied softly,

"And you're free. It's over, your master is dead." He told her. The woman gasped audibly.

"Truly?" She choked; tears sprung to her eyes. She thought, she had cried all her tears.

"Truly. I made sure of it." Astarion told her, his voice was elegant and soft as he unlocked her chains. She fell, but he caught her with divine grace. Her fingers touched his golden armor that he adorned, as if to make sure he was real, and this wasn't some twisted dream.

Her knees were too weak, she glided to her knees, Astarion held her still.

"You're safe now, no one can ever hurt you again. I promise you." He murmured cradling her gently.

She looked up at him, her tears streaking her blood-stained face.

"You're truly him, the one who was once like me." She said, her voice was trembling slightly. He nodded, a faint smile ghosting his lips.

"I was like you once, yes. But now I walk a different path. A path that led me here to you." He paused, his softening further.

"I know what you've endured, but you're stronger than you know. And you'll never have to endure it alone again."

Her trembling hand reached up, brushing the edge of his glowing armor, still not quite believing he was real yet.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice breaking. Astarion helped her to her feet. Lifting her as if though she weighed nothing to him.

"I...prayed...I prayed for a savior. Every night since I've been in here. I thought the gods had abandoned me." She said, her voice cracking.

"Well, do not fret dear. The gods heard you and they answered." Astarion replied.

"Come now, let's you get you out of here." He said as he helped her out of her prison. They walked up the stairs and into the lair, the bodies were scattered everywhere, some were burned with holy light and some were sliced through.

Astarion led the woman out into the night,

"Night just turned, so you'll have until dawn to get as far from here as you please." He explained to her. She hugged him tightly and thanked him with sobs, he held her.

Then the woman pulled from her savior and hurried off into the night, Astarion smiled proudly. His divine mission successful again, another slave freed. Astarion took what loot he could carry, then disappeared into the night.

He found a quiet secluded spot and glided to his knees in prayer, he listened to the night before hearing Lathander's voice.

'Astarion, my son, another calls for our aid.'

[omies-odd-writing-spot]

Doom Prompt 17: Drink

A writing prompt from my Doom discord, basted on the Garnets story.

has a mild hilt/spoiler for one living crucible that has not showed up. in the story. Came out that it was placed in a dream/vision world so to say for them to interact with the Slayer . 17: "John, Last Gift, and Sunwalker go out for a drink." ("Drink" doesn't have to mean alcohol, just something that makes them relax while they shit talk each other and reminisce)

“Aaand he's waking up. Morning boss,” a semi familiar voice spoke as John felt himself stretching, paused and felt around for Heather. Momentarily worried he had rolled over on the girl-

“What? Wait what?” The not really man blurted, then paused in confusion at hearing his own voice. He sat bolt upright, hands reaching incase he had rolled on the tiny fragile human-

And recognized Frederick in his phantom form. Blinked slowly before checking around them, seeing another all too familiar phantom, then the place sank in. The place was not quite in focus, as if the world outside of the two phantoms was not really there.

It was not, technically. 

John had to focus his mind for a few long minutes, almost at a random recent memory to get the world to snap back into a semblance of order. John found himself sitting in one of the still unused areas of Taras Nabad. Somewhere mostly quiet but sounds of life could and did echo from below up to him. Them.

John yawned, sitting up in a planter and reached out. Catching and easily hauling the startled, shorter man closer. Arms wrapping shamelessly around Frederick, ignoring the protests before John shifted heavily on the soul tied to him. Settled in this endless moment now that he recognized they were in the Eternal between heartbeats. His body was… healing John was pretty sure.

“Really?” The once human demanded, Frederick was very firmly stuck and pulled up into the planter with John.

“Yes,” a gravel voice rumbled out as John shifted so the shorter man  was sitting between his own legs and the war god leaned forward to rest his chin on Frederick's shoulder. “Mine.”

“I told you not to get too close to him,” a third voice spoke up from the side. 

John glanced over to see the other Phantom, arching an eyebrow at finding that one not in armor for once in their phantom form. Well, full armor. Sunwalker still looked like he was in light armor, at least around his lower half. The tall Argenta man had exposed chest, back and arms. Dark red tattoos shifted and moved along the exposed dark skin. As if climbing up one side and down the other on him.

John gave a lazy smile, “You think being over there will help you, old man?”

Sunwalker blinked, then frowned, “Don't you dare.”

The Slayer grinned in a lazy way, rubbing his cheek against Frederick’s head and shoulder. Arms tightened a bit more, knowing he could not hurt the other soul. The soul that made up the Last Gift gave what could be a sigh and leaned back, resigned as much as not really minding the attention. It was… oddly nice to be held in this form, not as a cubicle. 

Though Frederick was getting used to that feeling too… he missed having a body proper. Missed many things, but at least his surviving family was safe in the Fortress again. His baby girl was safe, protected and loved, Frederick could relax a bit as his phantom form leaned back into the other and lost the armor. The reflection of his phantom being dressed in jeans and a blue Hawaiian shirt. Grinning over at the other living crucible as he was pulled closer.

“What? Just because he likes me more, you're just gonna glare, old man?” Frederick asked, reaching back to ruffle John's short hair as there was a thunder deep chuckle behind him.

“He does not,” Sunwalker found himself glaring, blinked red eyes and bristled. As much as himself for that moment of jealousy that slipped out of his control, then realizing that the Slayer was watching him intently. He bristled again, because this was HIS chosen after all, and Sunwalker had…chosen the Demigod first, even shared his title with the Slayer-

“No fighting, you're both mine.” John smiled, it was lopsided with the pulling scars as he chuckled and added, “You're both pretty.”

Frederick burst out laughing at that, sagging into the hold on him. While Sunwalker looked puzzled and then looked downward at his phantom self. Trying to sort out what was ‘pretty’ about him- or was it meant for his crucible self?

In this place, the Eternal, John felt comfortable to show a bit more of his emotions. As well as the curious sensation of feeling and hearing his own voice without the primordial forcing its way out of, well, he did not have to die to hear it again.

“I'm prettier than yooou,” Frederick was saying in a singsong tone.

“You have no glyphs or history yet boy,” Sunwalker snorted, but was now at least looking around the memory of the world around them. Recognizing almost belatedly that it seemed like Taras Nabad. Only… warn down. 

Was this what his once home looked like as a Fortress City? It seemed abandoned.

“Sun, go around the corner, there should be a few barrels,” the Slayer said, even as he finally let go of Frederick to reflexively sign what he said, “I want one of those.”

He paused, blinking as if not used to hearing his own voice. Then mildly confused that the phantom of the Last Gift made no move to get away. If anything, Frederick seemed happy to lean back as if silently demanding to be held again not unlike Lily did but not wanting to admit it aloud.

John wondered if she got it from him, as he closed his arms around the phantom of his new living weapon. More than that, maybe not friends, not like they might have been if Frederick was alive. Definitely a bonded soul that the Slayer did not mind at all, and enjoyed when a memory was shared.

“Alcohol? Really?” Sunwalker demanded as the taller Argenta man came back from investigating. Holding a small, brown barrel between his hands, maybe only two feet long. “You know this would not affect you in life, let alone here?”

“Want.” John shrugged and made a clear ‘gimme’ motion without letting go. 

“It would be vinegar,” Sunwalker made a face as he set it in the edge of the planter the other two were on, it almost had them at his eye level. The older living weapon reached to crack the wax seal and opened the top of the barrel. Not sure what to expect but it seemed like normal, dark liquid.

“You can have vinegar if you want,” Frederick as he sat up a bit too look at the barrel on the right, catching on first that it could be whatever he wanted the liquid to be. Looking around, the phantom patted down himself, and caught color in his peripheral and looked to the left.

This was not reality, being like a dream although it was not one either. So seeing his favorite mug was not that much of a surprise as he grabbed for it, even being held tight. His fingers just got the handle before John’s grip loosened. The mug was large and fit nicely in Fredericks hands, it was a swirling, senseless pattern of dark brown and tan colors with a blue lobster on it. The inside used to be gray but had been stained a bit by years of being used for coffee and espresso.

Frederick loved this mug, the memories tied to it, not minding sharing the real one with John as Lily had offered it. The once human man dipped the mug in the barrel and pulled it back, looking at the now warm amber fluid as he took a drink. A familiar smokey, oaky taste with a bite. Though with memory it was not as much of a bite that real whisky would have. “Gods I miss a good, aged whisky…”

“I liked… whisky.” John muttered, finally letting go to find a cup to get some himself. Half on Frederick’s memory, half with his own to taste. 

This was not so bad, this moment that lasted forever, and after a quiet minute between them. There was even a feminine giggle and shadow of movement, the hell created crucible dancing on the edge of awareness. Not so fully bonded, but Sunwalker bristled even more. 

The Argenta man turned away from the other two protectively. As much as he did not approve of everything the Last Gift did, Frederick’s soul was still young and favored too by Sunwalker’s Chosen. The living Hell blade had him glaring and just seeing something child size with a heavy looking skull over her head almost hiding whatever features she used to have but for burning orange eyes. 

Moving almost too fast, Sunwalker lunged and the third phantom gave a delighted scream and ran through the ruins. Cackling in glee at what was a game to her as the Argenta tried to keep her away from his Chosen.

“Can we get him drunk, to chill out?” Frederick asked as he sipped, watching with John the chaos happening. Paused and hummed at his drink changing to a strong mocha.

“Hmm,” John considered it, “I… think I’ve already killed the titans old enough to do that to him.”

“Damn, he’s fat and old.”

“...WHAT did you call me boy?!”

“FAT and OLD!”

John grinned wide at the stomping coming back out of the ruins, and made no move to stop the fight about to start. Just watching as they could not hurt one another as phantoms or swords. He shifted to offer his cup of whisky to the girl that crawled out of the shadows and to look around him. The third living weapon grasping his hand and taking a sip, even making a face at the taste of the alcohol, but then when it changed to root beer took a keen interest in the cup.

[orilaiss]

Astarion and Lorena

Art credit: @a-cabin-in-midgard (thank you so much for creating this lovely art piece for me)

Astarion and Lorena had been married for sometime. They had been able to save some money they earned while adventuring all over Faerun and still had some savings from their time before defeating the Netherbrain. With this money they were able to buy a nice home in Baldur’s Gate to settle down for a bit.

Their home was beautiful, big, and filled with windows so that Astarion could enjoy the sun. After receiving the Sunwalker’s Gift ring from Lorena on their wedding day, Astarion soaked in as much sun as he could, never taking it for granted.

One morning, Astarion catches his Lore looking out the window pensively and nervously. He approaches her hugging her from behind settling his face on her neck to take in her delicious scent. She always smells of jasmine and lilies. Her neck is by far his favorite spot to settle in. Lorena is startled, she was so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize he was behind her.

Caught off guard by her sudden reaction, Astarion asks softly, “Darling…are you alright?”

Lorena turns to look up at him. Tears in her eyes. Astarion bristles, while still holding her, he looks at her with worry in his eyes. He holds her face with both hands gently, wiping the tears off her cheeks and asks ever softly, “My love…whatever could be the matter?“

Lorena looks up at him, “I have something to tell you, but I just don’t know how you will react. This has caught me by surprise and I think it will catch you by surprise as well.”

“Darling, you know you can tell me anything. What is it, my love?”

Lorena takes a deep breath, “I’m with child…we are having a baby, Astarion.”

Astarion, looks at her in shock. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything for a while. Lorena places her hand on his cheek, “Star? Star? Star! Oh…please say something?”

“Are…are you quite certain?” He asks. “Very…” she says. “But how…I’m a vampire…I thought I couldn’t…” Lost in his own thoughts, Astarion suddenly remembers reading about Dhampirs. If a vampire drinks enough blood from a thinking creature, and Astarion drinks plenty from his lovely wife that she gives to him willingly. It is very possible for him to sire a dhampir child.

He hugs her tenderly, with tears in his eyes, placing a gentle hand on her belly, and softly says, “A baby? We are having a baby? I…I can’t believe this could ever be possible.” He places his other hand behind her head, gently tugging at her hair, “Darling…I…thank you, thank you for making me the happiest man in all of Faerun. You have giving me yet another gift I never thought possible.” He had lost his family centuries ago, he doesn’t even remember who they are and the thought of him having a family of his own, it is so wonderfully overwhelming, he can’t help but cry joyous tears.

A sigh of relief comes out of Lorena’s mouth and she sobs, “You’re happy? I honestly didn’t know how you would react, I thought maybe you wouldn’t want a baby due to our adventuring lifestyle.”

Still in tears, he manages to chuckle, “Darling…of course I am happy! Naturally, I don’t know the first thing about raising a child, and I never saw myself as a father, never thought it possible. But this baby is our new adventure.”

Lorena holds him in tears as well. “My love…we get to have a family of our very own. Can you believe it! And you’re going to be a wonderful father. This child will love you so much just as much as I do.”

Astarion, still in tears, says softly, “A family of our very own? A family…MY family…MY child…OUR child. Gods, I love you, Lore. You have given me everything…more than I could have ever hoped for.” They stay like this for a while, hugging, sharing tender kisses, both never wanting to let go of one another.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Baldur's Gate 3 - Astarion x Listener SFW Allowing Astarion To Walk In The Sun

[M4A] [Established relationship] [Romantic] [Kisses]

Based on a Patreon request. Charlie Rou asked "Or the viewer finding sunwalker's ring (special ring that actually exists in dnd made specialy for vampires so they can walk in the sun.) and gifting it to Astarion."

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[erosathelstan]

WARNING: Spoilers for Act 3

I don't really have much BG3 friends irl and I have a lot of thoughts that I cannot put into proper writing yet so I'll just post it here:

As much as I love the idea of giving Astarion an item that allows him to walk in the sun (my durge also does that, bcs in my headcanon the "Sunwalker's Gift" is the perfect item to do just that) I just want to talk about one other thing that Astarion mentions about being a vampire that I don't see a lot of people posting about: the aspect of hunger.

In one of his conversations with a Dark Urge PC, he mentions being unable to speak and think clearly when he wasn't able to feed for a long time because the hunger deprives him of reason. During one of the post-Cazador dialogues, too (if you kill Cazador without him, regardless if you're DU or Tav) he talks about being condemned to an eternity of hunger without being able to make a choice about it. Freedom to choose and consent is a major theme in Astarion's story, and with Cazador gone, that hunger then becomes the primary contender for his ability to choose for himself, because that hunger can literally rob him of reason when left unchecked.

Yes, he's also a murder hobo and wouldn't even blink twice if he had to kill someone, especially if it's for the sake of keeping himself safe and well-fed. At the moment, considering that our Tav/Durge is also a willing Personal Juicebox™ for his twink ass, then the guy is pretty much food secure. However, I don't think that later on in their relationship, he'd be comfortable with continuing that arrangement with their partner - whether it's due to old age/sickness on Tav's part, or some sort of self-realization that we can all only headcanon about. Him hunting down criminals/vagrants/random strangers also inadvertently puts Tav and whatever home they've made in danger, as someone at some point will want to hunt the vampire that killed their friend/family/workmate/what-have-you. Idk maybe some mofo with a strong sense of justice will also eventually go after his ass because he's a total menace to society.

Fighting is not a problem, or at least at first. Tav can fight. Tav literally led the group into fucking up an Elder Brain ffs, so what's a couple of vampire hunters and/or vengeful band of misfits, amiryt? But again, it will be kinda tiring to have to always be on guard, because someone might just kill you and the love of your life because you fed on someone else's. Also, again, he can fight for as long as he needs to, but what about Tav? Esp if our Tavs are not from long-lived races.

Part of getting Astarion's life back has to not only include making him able to stand in the sun again, but also ridding him of that hunger. Vampiric hunger can be an all-consuming thing that could put both him and his lover in significant danger. Whether he as a character would want to address this is a matter of our personal interpretations as fans/writers/artists, but I personally want to see more of this aspect of his vampirism being explored in fan works.

Anyway, I have said too many words. Maybe I need to finally give in and go hunting in Ao3 for this type of content. But for now, I slep 🙃

[sserpente]

Astarion Masterlist (1)

In case no links are showing, that is because Tumblr is messing up. You can alternatively access my public Google Docs Astarion Masterlist which works on mobile too.

Blood on a Silver Platter The Sunwalker's Gift The Mistletoe Tradition 🎄 Magic Hands (NSFW) After Forgiveness of Blood A blood bath to die a little death for (NSFW)

Imagine having garlic bread for dinner and forgetting about it when you kiss Astarion...

Imagine waking up to Astarion and Gale building a snowman at camp ☃

Imagine trying to pickpocket Astarion

Check out my blog to find more Imagines! Also, if you enjoy my work, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[paganwitchisis]

"Elven Judgement" Chapter 1

Title: Elven Judgement

Chapter One Title: An Unexpected Visitor

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Set after the events in Baldur’s Gate 3, Tav and spawn Astarion are expecting a new bundle of joy when Astarion reconnects with his parents. Things don’t go as planned with the soon to be grandparents! Expect drama, suspense, fluff, smut and an overly protective Astarion!

Word Count: 2,869

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Astarion

Warnings: Smut, pregnancy, oral, anal, PinV smut, creampie, breeding (kink), hurtful parents, mental abuse, violence (bandits), blood drinking, blood (wounds), protective/soft Astarion, adult language.  

Thank you @alyssac9 for proof reading this fic :) You're the best!

AO3 link here!

Story:

It had been a number of months since the Netherbrain had fallen, and the city had been rebuilding the tremendous damage from the final battle. Of course, they would be worse off if not for the influence and strength of Tav and her companions. After the battle, they were excited to find that the Elfsong Tavern had little to no damage, and so, for free of charge, Tav was allowed to use Duke Stelmane’s old room. That was where Tav and Astarion could be found as they moved from the companion room into the more private one. Astarion, yet a spawn, still feared the harsh rays of the sun once again. It was the day after the battle that she had promised to find him something to bring him back to the light he so loved. He told her that she was his sun, and it was unnecessary, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hold out hope that she could do the impossible. With the help of their friends who slowly left to go on their own adventures, Tav was able to track down the Sunwalker’s ring. With the help of Gale, Halsin, and Astarion, they were able to finally retrieve the artifact and bring the vampire into the sun’s gentle light once more.

This was also when they found out Tav was pregnant.

It was against all odds as Tav was a human baring an elf’s child and a vampire at that, but Halsin was clear that the child was a dhampir. The reason this was so impossible was that elves could only have children if another elf died. Additionally, a dhampir was rare on its own. Astarion never doubted the child was his, but at first, he was in a state of panic. Would he make a good father? Could Tav survive having a vampiric child? What would their lives be like now? There were more questions than answers; however, after some time alone with Tavaria, he was able to calm down and eventually accepted the news. He even found himself excited, thinking about what a product of their union would look like, and they played around with names once Halsin confirmed the child was a boy. To protect Tav and because it was still early in the pregnancy, Tav and Astarion had asked Halsin to keep it between themselves.

Although they could tell the sex thanks to magic, Tav was only seven weeks along in her pregnancy.

In the end, Halsin and Gale were the last ones left with the couple as Gale was studying something important, or so he claimed and needed the help of Sorcerer's Sundries. Halsin had returned from his adventures once Tav was confirmed to be pregnant, having left briefly before finding the Sunwalker’s Ring. He was in Baldur’s Gate for business when he was recruited to help find the artifact but since finding out Tav’s condition, he elected to stay in the city until her birth. He felt she would need someone she could rely on to help her with such a wonderful gift from the Oak Father and they agreed. Since then, Halsin has been trying to work with the elder Ravengard to incorporate more of nature’s beauty into the city and bring balance to Baldur’s Gate.

A week later, Tav and Astarion held each other’s hands and made their way to the graveyard as it was the one-year anniversary since Astarion said he would live, since Cazador’s death, and since the couple agreed to make it his new birthday since he couldn’t remember his. The day started playfully as the couple spent a lazy day kissing and holding each other until Astarion went for his usual butcher run. He found getting blood was a lot easier in the city as the local butchers were more than happy to offload the stuff under a different guise. He would tell them he was making blood sausage, or some other item requiring it and would have enough delivered for weeks.

Then that evening, the couple went to the graveyard once again since that night a year ago.

Tav and Astarion had rounded the bend and were surprised that the graveyard still had a few occupants. It wouldn’t disturb their plans too much, they still planned on celebrating at the tavern in private compared to how they celebrated a year ago. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t up to celebrating the way they did before. It was Astarion who refused this option. Ever since she was found to be pregnant, heAstarion has been very protective of her and felt she deserved plush pillows and soft blankets rather than the cold earth to be bedded on. She tried to argue with him, but he would not hear of it.

To Astarion, Tav would be treated like a queen as she carried life inside her. Not that he wouldn’t treat her that way anyway, regardless. He has made it known often how much he loved her.

As Tav and Astarion walked into the graveyard, she noted that there were a few children among the mourners. They paid them no heed and walked further up the pathway. Astarion paused for a moment, startling her who was unsure why he stopped abruptly.

“You okay?” Tav asked concerned, tightening her lock on his hand.

“There is someone near my headstone.” Astarion murmured. Tav looked ahead and could see an elven woman in a white coat, blue trousers, and silver hair. Her back was turned to Tav so that was the extent she could make out of her features. Astarion shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“It can’t be…”

“What can’t be?” Tav asked as Astarion’s eyes grew wide.

“Who would be at my tombstone darling?”

“Only family or friends I would assume?”

“Exactly. I don’t know who she is, but she seems...familiar to me.”

Tav let go of his hand and turned in his direction before speaking next. “What do you want to do?”

“I should speak to her.” Astarion took back Tav’s hand and went to move, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Love?”

“If she really is family, shouldn’t you see her alone?” Tav asked meekly, glancing down at the surface of the ground as she said this rather than looking Astarion in the eyes.

“We really need to work on your self-esteem, darling. For the thousandth time, you’re my family.” Astarion placed his hand on her lower belly. “Both of you are. Now let’s both go see what’s going on?” Astarion removed his hand from her stomach and kissed her on the forehead. She smiled slightly and looked up at him.

“There’s my girl.” Astarion purred at Tav’s smiling face and led her by the hand to the grave.

Once they approached, the woman turned to see who they were and Tav was astounded. This woman had green eyes, higher cheekbones and her nose was slightly more blunted than Astarion’s but otherwise, she looked almost the same as her lover. The woman looked like she was also perplexed and looked between the tombstone and the man before her. She began to cry, sobbing as she cried out.

“As—Astarion?”

Astarion gave no reaction except to hold Tav’s hand tightly as the woman threw her arms over the vampire’s shoulders and hugged him, crying into his armor.

“Excuse me,” Astarion pulled back a little so he could see who she was, “but who are you?”

The woman looked shocked and backed away as if Astarion was made of fire.

“You’re joking right?” The woman exclaimed.

“Astarion?” Tav called out his name questioningly. “I think she might be your mother.” Tav tried to help Astarion out with his quandary.

“Who are you? And Astarion, what do you mean, who am I? Don’t you recognize your own mother? And why does that,” the woman pointed at the tombstone, “have your name on it?”

Astarion had faint memories of this woman but nothing of any substance. He suspected that what Tav said was true. The woman looked just like him, something he knew only because Tav had linked her tadpole to his a few times back during the time of the absolute. She wanted him to see what he looked like, and it was simpler than paying for a painting or a drawing of such a thing. That wasn't the only thing they did with the tadpoles but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t know you because I don’t know my past, and that,” Astarion also gestured to the tombstone, “is harder to explain.” Astarion wrapped his arm around Tav’s waist and pulled her close. “And she is with me.”

“So, you don’t recognize me?”

“You’re familiar but that’s all I can say,” Astarion confirmed.

“I have so many questions…” The woman exclaimed.

“So do I.”

“Why not meet up for lunch tomorrow?” Tav offered as an option as talking and catching up in the graveyard was not an ideal location. Additionally, Tav could see that Astarion may need some time to come to grips with the fact that his mother is back and could be in his life again.

“That’s a great idea, darling,” Astarion said with a smile while the woman who stood over by his tombstone seemed upset at the suggestion.

“Fine.” The woman snapped. “Where and when?”

“How about noon? At the Elfsong tavern?”

The woman nodded, and Astarion turned to leave, but before they could, Tav asked the woman.

“What’s your name?”

“Silwen...Silwen Ancunin” With that, Astarion and Tav turned to leave when Silwen called out, back asking what Tav’s name was as well.

“Tavaria Stormgleam” The woman glared at Tav as the couple left and returned to the Elfsong, leaving Silwen behind.

The walk back was a somber one as Astarion stayed silent during the trip back which was a bit unusual for the elf. Tav didn’t pry or push the subject and instead intended to give him space to process it all. He reached out to her and clasped his hand in hers as they drew close to the tavern. He went up the stairs and led her to their room. He locked the door behind them, turned around, and began kissing her passionately.

Tav moaned into the kiss but pulled away, “Are you okay?”

Astarion paused and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the comforter next to his thigh, asking for her to join him. She did just that and sat down next to him.

“I might have my mother back in my life and I don’t know what that means.”

“Are you... happy to meet your mother?”

“I should be but I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t remember her. I have fleeting images of her in my head but that’s all.”

“Do you want to get some rest? I’ll massage your back if you like.”

Astarion undid the clasps on his armor, tossing it to the side as he nodded. Tav took off her armor as well and started the bath, knowing he would love to get into it after his massage. It was a ritual of sorts that they did when he was having trouble with his emotions. She would soothe him and comfort him and they’d get a bath together, washing the dirt and grime away from each other’s bodies. She made the water fairly hot so the heat would last until she finished her massage. Astarion tossed his shirt and pants off, leaving him only in his embroidered blue underwear. Tav joined him in his level of undress. She took off her pants and shirt along with her breast band before watching him lay down on the bed on his stomach.

Tav grabbed some lavender oil they use during their bath once in a while and applied it to her hands. She, only clad in her underwear, mounted and straddled the elf on his rear. She rubbed her hands together to lather her hands in the oil before bringing it down on her lover’s soft flesh. She usually avoided the scars but as of late, he would ask her to massage them as well. He claimed that they would get stiff and hurt him if she didn’t give him the attention he needed on his back.

“The scars. Do you…”

“Please.” Astarion sounded a bit meek or lost in thought as he replied but Tav heard him anyway. She began to sensually massage his back and work out a few pesky knots. He moaned as she did so, her gentle fingers rubbed into his shoulders and then the shoulder blades. Eventually, she found herself working on his lower back, gasps and moans escaping her lover as she progressed. She worked his muscles until she got to his backside, where she stopped and patted his ass cheek to get his attention.

“Time to get clean honey.”

“Mmm, that felt good.” Astarion slowly sat up and stripped himself of his underwear. The original idea was to make love on his birthday, Tav suspected, but after the day's situation, she was certain that the plans had changed. It didn’t bother her. She was understanding and caring in regard to Astarion. She knew his past had tinted his view of sex, but since they defeated Cazador, the pair had discovered his sex drive was on par with her own. They made love often and vigorously the year before. When she began to show symptoms of her morning sickness, she found her libido had become enhanced as well. This was something Astarion loved. He loved that his seed would make her stomach round, and he loved the idea of making love to her.

Tonight though?

Tonight was for love in the most comforting sense, not for carnal pleasure.

Tav stripped off her underwear and followed Astarion as he got into the tub. It was a large tub and big enough for the both of them to fit comfortably together. He groaned in pleasure as his body sank into the heated water. He grabbed the rag and soap on the edge of the tub and got closer to his lover who was now fully seated in the water. He began to bathe her and kissed her lovingly. She let her hand run down his chest lightly, the smell of lavender still wafting from him due to the oil on his back.

Astarion got to her hair and began to clean that as well, earning a low moan when his fingernails scrubbed her scalp. He smiled and finally began to speak some more.

“Like that?”

“You know I do. Now let me return the favor.”

Tav began to do the same as well except when she got to scrubbing his hair, she jokingly gave Astarion a Mohawk thanks to the lather from the shampoo in his hair. He giggled and went to tickle her who almost evaded him. He got her ankle and began to kiss the instep on her foot.

Astarion rinsed his hair and enjoyed the time they had together, but he wanted to make some things clear to Tav before the next day.

“You know, if she becomes my mother or doesn’t, you’re still the most important person to me.”

“Huh?”

“Well, one of. The little one is tied with you.” Astarion chuckled.

“You can’t know that, I mean…”

“I know what you’re thinking my love. You’re everything to me and I love you. Don’t you dare think of yourself any other way. Now…” Astarion stood up in the tub, “This water is getting cold.”

“About tomorrow,” Tav asked as she followed him out of the tub and dried each other off. “Are you going to tell her the truth?” Tav mentioned worried about how she would react to his vampirism.

“I plan to. I’ll have you with me in case it goes south anyway.”

“I thought you wanted to go alone?”

Astarion heavily sighed and said, “I want you with me. I told you, you’re my family. Not some woman I only just met.”

“If you’re sure.”

Astarion walked over to the bed, naked as a bird, and pulled back the covers. “I’m sure, my love; now let’s get some sleep.” Tav walked over to the bed and curled up against her lover, his head on her breasts and their legs interlocking. It was going to be an experience for Astarion the next day, and she was determined to provide support if that’s what he wished. She fell asleep, her lover whispering “I love you” in her ear as sleep beckoned her. She smiled; he was her world, and she loved him. Astarion was her family too and nothing would get between them.

[dhampling]

˗ˏˋ i'm dal - she/‎‎‎her. 24. ˎˊ˗ astarion x reader content • 18+ only, minors dni! ‎‏‏‎ ꙳⊹ ﾟ⋆ • about me • ko-fi • ao3 • my caps • © BLOODSOEUR. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works.

butter gn!reader, 2.5k you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage

both free gn!reader, 2.1k you reject bhaal’s greatest gift - to this, your horrified love bears witness

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k astarion’s habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you’ll ever emerge again.

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn.

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k you find a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and propose with it.

gush fem!reader, 2.2k (NSFW) it rains. you swindle some wine and astarion cums in his breeches.

oh, mother fem!reader, 3.3k (NSFW) it’s the mummy fic.

lifeblood fem!reader, 2.5k (NSFW) astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind.

ivory tower fem!reader x ascended!astarion, 4.6k (NSFW) you're still mortal, and there's good reason for it.

warming fem!reader 1.2k (NSFW) early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.

swell fem!reader 1.9k (NSFW) feral pregnant sex with the elf. inspired by this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat.

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k astarion and his daughter have a spat.

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k dadstarion watches dhampling sleep.

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k “In what realm would we need this much jam?”

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you.

sunburn girl!dadstarion, <1k dhampling gets sunburnt!

introducing the siblings girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute"

breakfast girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) astarion trying to make breakfast for the growing brood while tav/reader is like, "my love, you wanted this"

bump dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching tav's baby bump as tav tries to rest?

stretch marks dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) Imagine a tav who’s really insecure about these marks [...] and when they bring it up to astarion he decides the best course of action is to show them how much he loves them.

snuggles dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) when tav is pregnant astarion would love snuggling up to their baby bump - curling around them and listening for signs of their little one

shallow bites girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I think it would be really funny if astarion and tav’s daughter was practicing her bites and pickpocketing on the two of them, respectively. [...] No ancunín is going to grow up being a half-rate pickpocket!"

hugs from behind dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) "hugging the other from behind" from this list of prompts with astarion hugging his very tall, very pregnant wife from behind because I think the image of it is so cute.

tiefling tav showing affection via their tail tief!reader (inbox prompt)

valentine's day with astarion gn!reader (inbox prompt)

earthbound astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "how do you think astarion would handle a tav who is actually from earth and is going to return home after defeating the netherbrain?"

reunited astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "a follow-up to earth tav somehow reuniting with astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention"

patience gn!reader (inbox prompt) "hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" from the one-liners list"

baking gn!reader (inbox prompt) "ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES"

thulsun fem!reader, not tav! 3.7k (NSFW) under rework! astarion appears at your parlour one evening in a cloud of smoked bergamot and the briefest hint of spunk, and it becomes oh-so difficult to watch him leave.

three, minimum fem!reader, 4.3k (NSFW) astarion has been planning, for the first time in his life. He wants babies.

nought point five fem!reader, 4.7k (NSFW) seven months along, he’s besotted with every pregnant piece of you.

one fem!reader, 2k astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that’s it. that’s the plot.

one more fem!reader, 2.9k (NSFW) your home is quaint. astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

(astarion x fem!reader au, NSFW) he's a potwasher. you want to fuck the potwasher. this started as a joke and now i'm obsessed. enjoy.

one two

[askastarion]

Tav snuck away from Astarions tent, they were sure no one had seen them getting in or out, "good, to bed now" they whispered under their breath, a mischievous glint in their eye that was there due to the little gift they had left beside Astarions bed, a few paper flowers made with the pages of a book Tav had been reading a, they had stolen it while on a little machination they had planned near a huge library.

It was kind of an innocent prank, if it could even be called a prank, it was a little gesture the childish elf couldn't help but giggle at, they hadn't sat down and just made something for someone for a while if it wasnt in a life or death circumstance for a stranger so it felt nice to just sit down and work on something softer and meaningful for their traveling companion.

What would be his face when he read the pages of the neatly folded flowers? "the cloak of dragomir" and "ring of the sunwalker" it read in bold letters written in a beautiful bright blue. Tav thought to themselves, slowly relaxing and resting in silence when a soft rustling brought them back to the present.

Astarion let out a yawn as he sidled into his tent in the dead of night. He was exhausted. Fighting mindflayers and goblins at every turn was fun, and a much better break than where he was just before the Nautiloid snatched him up. But it was a lot of hard work... So when he spun and let him fall back into the embrace of his bed, ready to fall into meditaion, it took him a moment to notice that a piece of paper had wafted upward and landed on his nose.

"Mmph... What?" He gasped, picking up the piece of paper and seeing a... a little flower? He paused, examining it for a moment. A gift...? That was nice, actually. He didn't normally like people coming into his tent without him knowing, but glancing blearily around, it didn't look like anyone had messed with any of his stuff... And the flower origami reminded him of his youth. There were no space for such sweet little wastes of time.

But when he unfolded it... his eyes widened and he shot up in bed. The cloak of Dragomir... That would help him so much. he glanced down around him and found the other note, looking shocked as he unwrapped and read the page. Why did someone leave these here...? Were they going to be searching for these items? There was only one person who...

He stuck his head out of his tent flaps. "Tav!" he yelped, hurrying toward their tent.