#bg3 one-shot

[jedigloomy]

Through Her Eyes - A BG3 One-Shot

Astarion hasn’t seen his reflection in centuries, a cruel reminder of everything he’s lost to his vampiric curse. When Alluna offers him the chance to see himself through her eyes, he’s faced with something he never expected: a glimpse of the man he used to be—and the hope of who he might become.

FANDOM: Baldur's Gate 3

PAIRING: Astarion/ Alluna (Tav)

WORD COUNT: 3,155

TRIGGER WARNINGS: This story contains themes of trauma, emotional vulnerability, and references to past abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Alluna tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the sparkling stars overhead. Their beauty stole her breath and wrapped her in a rare, fragile peace. She drew her knees to her chest, a soft smile curling her lips as the fire’s crackling warmth eased the weariness in her bones. The day had been long and grueling—her body ached with the memory of countless battles. Exhaustion pressed heavy on her shoulders, but for a moment, as she gazed at the heavens, the weight lifted, and the night offered her a fleeting reprieve.

She inhaled deeply, the air carrying the faint tang of pine, the musk of earth, and the briny trace of the nearby stream. It was so different from Baldur’s Gate. The first night here had been jarring—not just because of the nautiloid’s crash or the alien tadpole burrowing into her brain, but because of the silence. The forest felt alive yet unnervingly still. No clamor of merchants or sharp laughter of drunkards. No constant hum of life. Just the snores of her companions, the crackle of the fire, and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Her peace was interrupted by low, frustrated murmurs, breaking the soft crackle of the fire. Alluna turned, her gaze landing on Astarion. He stood just beyond the camp’s edge, a mirror in his hand, his brow furrowed as he tilted it this way and that, his movements sharp with irritation. For a moment, she thought he was fussing over a stray strand of hair, and a quiet snicker escaped her. With a sigh, she pulled herself to her feet and strolled toward him, intent on catching him off guard.

But before she could speak, his voice cut through the night. “Looking at something?” he asked, startling her.

She blinked, then frowned. “How did you know I was there?”

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my… condition,” he replied, his tone flat as he continued inspecting the glass. “It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you.” His voice remained level, but the slump of his shoulders betrayed him.

The grin on Alluna’s face faded as realization dawned. He hadn’t seen his own face—not since the night he was turned. The thought struck her, sharp and sudden. She hesitated, unsure of what to say, before finally asking, “Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He turned to face her then, his eyes heavy, searching hers. “Of course I miss it.” He sighed, the mirror in his hand catching the firelight. “I’ve never seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red…” His expression hardened, anger flashing across his features as he looked at her.

Alluna studied his face, her mind tracing over the sharp angles and hollow beauty of it, trying to imagine what he might have looked like before. “What colour were they before?” she asked softly, her voice a thread in the quiet.

“I…” His voice faltered, and for a moment, he seemed caught off guard by the question. His brow furrowed deeply as he turned inward, searching for a memory that remained stubbornly out of reach.

The rage in his eyes melted into confusion, then panic, and finally something far heavier. His grip tightened around the mirror, his knuckles pale against its ornate frame. “I…” he tried again, the words catching in his throat. His head tilted, his gaze darting to the ground, as though the answer might lie buried beneath the dirt.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, the words brittle, fragile. His crimson eyes met hers, unguarded and raw. “I can’t… I can’t remember.” The mirror slipped slightly in his grip, trembling in his hand. His expression grew distant, his eyes unfocused, as though the memory he sought had been stripped away entirely, leaving only a hollow ache behind.

The ache consumed him for a heartbeat—then burned away, replaced by a fiery inferno. “My face is just another dark shape in my past.” His voice shook with rage. With gritted teeth, he hurled the mirror into the dirt, where it shattered into glittering fragments.

Alluna’s heart grew heavy as she watched him. Thin tears lined his eyes, but they didn’t fall. Anger and shock wrestled for dominance in the lines of his face, his posture tense and fists clenching and unclenching as if he didn’t know whether to scream or collapse. This realization had rattled him to his very core, cracking the carefully curated mask he always wore.

Her fingers twitched at her side, her heart aching with the need to comfort him, to give him something—anything—to pull him from this pain. And then it struck her. Her eyes widened as the idea took root, tentative but insistent. She stepped closer to him, excitement flickering like a fragile ember.

He startled slightly at her sudden movement, his gaze snapping to hers. She hesitated, fearing he would shout at her, push her away. But she shook her head, banishing the thought. “Astarion, I might… have a solution,” she said, her voice trembling as nerves battled with resolve.

He tilted his head, confusion furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?” There was a whisper of hope in his voice, so faint it was barely there—but she saw it.

Alluna swallowed hard, chewing the inside of her lip as she raised a hand and pointed toward her temple. “The tadpole…” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. She knew what she was asking of him: to relinquish control, to open his mind to her, to let someone breach the carefully constructed walls he’d built to protect himself.

Their bond was fragile, born of shared necessity but slowly blossoming into something more. It was terrifying in its newness, full of promise and peril. It could grow into a thorny rose, beautiful but dangerous, or a sunflower reaching for the light. She prayed it was enough to surpass his distrust.

A long, agonizing silence stretched between them. His expression remained unreadable, his thoughts racing behind his crimson eyes. Alluna’s resolve began to wither under the weight of it. Poisonous doubts whispered in her mind: she’d shattered their delicate bond, ruined everything by speaking this absurd idea aloud. He would regret trusting her, regret opening himself up even the smallest bit.

But then, before she could drown in her fears, his mask cracked again. Uncertainty rippled across his features, followed by something softer, more vulnerable. He met her gaze, and her breath hitched at the raw emotion she saw there. “How… How would the tadpole help me see myself?” His voice was small, hesitant, as though the words themselves were fragile.

Alluna smiled softly, careful not to lean too close. “I would lend you my eyes,” she said, her tone steady. “It would mean opening your mind to me, letting me in. But only to see what I see—nothing more.”

His brows furrowed, and he stepped back, a whirlwind of emotions flickering across his face. She didn’t press him, didn’t move closer, but simply waited. Astarion’s mind raced, the weight of her words colliding with the walls he’d built over centuries.

Trust her? Could he even do that?

He thought back to the moments they’d shared. At first, it had all been a game—a calculated play to ensnare her in his web, like so many others. But she was… different. It hadn’t felt like such a performance with her. The revulsion that usually curdled in his stomach afterward was quieter, subdued. She had a way of lying in his arms, her face alight with contentment, as though she saw something in him he couldn’t see himself. For a fleeting moment, he had almost believed it. Almost.

His gaze lifted to meet hers, and he saw nothing but sincerity. Still, the fear clung to him, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. “I… I don’t know…” He faltered, unsure how to finish the sentence. I don’t know if I trust you? I don’t know how to let you in?

Alluna seemed to sense the war raging behind his eyes. Her expression softened, and the smile she gave him made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t explain. “Astarion,” she said gently, her voice steady but warm, “this is your choice. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. If you need more time, take it. I won’t push you. I trust you to know what’s right for yourself—and I’ll be here if or when you decide.”

Her words washed over him, and for a moment, he felt himself slip back into the comfort of his mask. He forced a hollow smile and replied, “Time, darling? That’s a luxury we don’t exactly have. Death lurks around every corner—”

“Astarion.” Her voice stopped him short, soft but resolute. His breath hitched as her eyes met his, unwavering. “We have time,” she said again, quieter this time, but with unshakable certainty. “No tadpole, no mind flayer, no cultist—nothing will stop us. You have time to decide if this is something you truly want to do.”

For a moment, he said nothing, her words hanging heavy in the space between them. His mask threatened to crack, but he held it firm, unwilling to let her see just how much her words had shaken him—not in a negative way. She had given him something Cazador never had: a choice.

The concept felt alien, even though he knew he must have had it once, centuries ago, before chains of blood and pain stole it from him. At least, he thought he had. It was hard to tell anymore. The memories had been drowned beneath horrors so vast they poisoned his mind, erasing everything that made him who he once was.

But now, here she was, offering him the impossible. A piece of himself he thought lost forever. His face. The very thing that had been his best weapon, his greatest performance. Hundreds of conquests had whispered praises of his beauty before they met their grisly ends in Cazador’s chambers. Even his master had seemed taken with it—or obsessed with it. Why else would he linger over Astarion, why else would his screams be called “the sweetest”? That had to be the reason. The only reason.

A quivering breath escaped him, and he refocused on Alluna. The care in her gaze held him steady, anchoring him to the present. For the first time in centuries, he let himself want something, and the words fell from his lips like a confession. “I… I want to… see my face.” Her beaming smile overtook her features, and something inside him fluttered. How could a smile like that make him feel so light?

“Are you certain?” she asked gently, her tone steady despite the tremble of anticipation in her voice.

Astarion hesitated, his thoughts churning, but then he nodded. Her response was a quiet, affirming nod, and she raised a hand, gesturing toward her temple. “Alright. Let’s try this.”

It wasn’t easy. Alluna still struggled with harnessing the tadpole’s power, and her initial attempts were clumsy. Astarion flinched as her mind brushed his, the sensation as foreign and invasive as it was tender. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, pulling back instantly.

He shook his head, steadying himself. “No, just… slower.”

She adjusted, her presence featherlight as she pushed against the fragile wall in his mind. It wasn’t a barrier made of steel or stone; it was paper-thin, yet impossibly vast, stretching over centuries of memories too dark to look at. The fragility of it unnerved her. She moved with care, soft and steady, like tracing the edges of a broken mirror.

Astarion’s brows furrowed as he felt her again, her presence like the ghost of a lover’s touch—tentative, patient, and maddeningly gentle. The instinct to pull away screamed in him, but he held fast. Slowly, he let the gates open, just enough to let her through.

When her presence faltered, pressing too hard, he winced, and she immediately pulled back. “Sorry—”

“You’re fine,” he interrupted, his voice tight but resolute. “Just… let me guide you.”

It took time. His breathing was shallow, his entire body tense as he adjusted to the sensation of another person inside his mind. She didn’t prod or poke at his memories, as she had promised. She hovered, a patient presence, waiting for him to be ready.

When he finally nodded, the breath he let out was shuddering, his voice hoarse as he whispered, “Alright. Do it.”

Alluna projected her vision into him, and they both gasped. Their sight warped and contorted, the raw psionic power rushing through their minds threatening to buckle her resolve. She staggered, clutching her temple, but her tadpole greedily absorbed the energy, steadying her.

Astarion stumbled back a step, his hands shooting up to steady himself. His vision darkened, and panic clawed at him. He thought, for a terrifying moment, that they’d done something irreversible. But then the familiar, squirming presence of the tadpole seemed to lap up the excess energy, settling the chaos inside him.

And then, the darkness faded.

He blinked, his consciousness expanding beyond his body, and froze as his vision resolved into a figure. A stranger stared back at him—a pale face, sharp and angular, framed by silver-white hair. Crimson eyes glinted like rubies, hollowed with centuries of torment, yet achingly beautiful.

His breath hitched. “Is… Is that…”

The thought broke off as the shock hit him like a thunderclap, raw and overwhelming. Alluna felt it through their connection—a suffocating weight, cold and unrelenting, like drowning in ice water. Her chest tightened, her breath hitching as she realized these weren’t her emotions. Astarion’s grief and disbelief surged through her, raw and jagged, pulling her under.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and before she could think, her hand moved on its own. She reached up and brushed it away, her fingers warm against his cool skin. Astarion shuddered under her touch, his eyes widening. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“N-No…” His voice broke, barely more than a whisper. His hand rose to cover hers, trembling as it settled over her fingers. “It’s… okay. I don’t mind.”

Her heart clenched at the fragility in his tone. She offered him a soft smile, stepping closer as her thumb brushed gently over his cheek.

His gaze returned to the vision before him, and slowly, the shock ebbed, replaced by something lighter, brighter. His lips parted in wonder. “It’s… me,” he whispered, the words trembling with disbelief.

A smile—genuine and unrestrained—spread across his face, growing until it overtook him like wildfire. “After all these years…” His voice wavered as he reached toward his face, his fingers brushing his cheek as though to confirm the image was real. “Hello again. Gods, I missed you.”

Alluna’s own tears welled and spilled as she watched him rediscover himself. It was the purest thing she’d ever witnessed, and her heart swelled with emotion. He moved his hands over his face, tracing every line and angle like he was trying to etch the image into his memory. She didn’t blame him. The tadpoles wouldn’t last forever. This was his only chance to see himself, and she resolved to give him all the time he needed.

If it took all night, she would hold the connection for him.

After a long, quiet moment, he let out a soft chuckle. “I am quite the handsome devil, aren’t I?”

Alluna laughed, her voice light and full of warmth. “Yes, you are, Astarion. But don’t forget—you’re so much more than that.”

His smile softened in a way that made him look years younger. “I’m beginning to see that,” he murmured, his voice carrying the faintest hint of hope.

They stayed like that for a while, Astarion inspecting every inch of his face. He even fiddled with his hair, grumbling about how those “damned goblins” had ruined it. Alluna couldn’t help but laugh at his rambling, her heart warm with affection she wasn’t ready to voice—not yet. For now, it was enough to give him this moment, this gift.

Eventually, Astarion pulled his consciousness away and gently coaxed her out of his mind. Alluna surrendered to the tender yet firm push, letting her vision become her own once more. The disorientation was brief, though it left them both momentarily off-balance.

As the world settled around them, they stood in comfortable silence. Astarion seemed lighter somehow, as though a piece of the weight he carried had fallen away. His smile reached his eyes now—genuine, warm, unguarded—and Alluna’s favourite part was how his gaze seemed brighter, more alive.

He had reclaimed a part of himself that had been buried beneath centuries of torment. To an outsider, it might have seemed insignificant, but to Astarion, it meant everything. He was no longer just a fragment of Cazador’s cruelty. He was his own person, with something worth fighting for: the memory of his face, his freedom, and perhaps… Alluna.

He glanced at her and caught her staring. A smirk spread across his face. “What are you smiling at?”

She chuckled, tilting her head. “It’s nice seeing you so happy. It suits you.”

“Yes, I’d imagine so,” he quipped, his voice playful. “Now that I know just how magnificent I am.” She laughed, shaking her head as he grinned. But then his expression softened, his gaze steady and sincere. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The words caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Then she smiled, her voice quiet but sure. “Of course, Astarion. I’m here for you, always.”

A warmth blossomed in his chest, spreading like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He breathed in the cool night air, his gaze lifting toward the stars as though seeing them for the first time. “It’s strange,” he murmured, glancing at her. “For so long, I’ve been little more than a ghost. A shadow of a man. But now… I almost feel real again.” He chuckled, the sound light, almost bashful. “Thanks to you.”

Alluna smiled, her heart swelling at the sight of him. “You’ve always been real, Astarion. This just helped you see it for yourself.”

He tilted his head, studying her with a look she couldn’t quite place. For a moment, she thought he might say something profound or vulnerable. Instead, a familiar smirk crept across his lips. “Well,” he said with a playful lilt, “if this is what it feels like to be real, I must say—it’s rather exhausting.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “That sounds about right.”

His smile softened again, his blood-red eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. “Thank you, Alluna,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “For everything.” And as the silence settled between them, comfortable and warm, Astarion felt something he hadn’t dared to hope for in centuries: peace.

A/N: I had this idea sitting in my head for some time. I always wondered why Tav never showed Astarion what he looked like, so I figured I'd rewrite the Mirror Scene (though, the original is beautiful, and I absolutely adore it). Let me know what you thought of my story! Regardless of your thoughts, though, I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading!

[oceanmusings]

Wanted

Pairing | Gale Dekarios x Prisma

Content Warning | some spoilers to act 2, both from Gale's romance and how it can go at the Last Light Inn. Oblivious to flirting or romance, first kiss, some anxiety. Super fucking fluffy my lord-

Word Count | 2.4K

Summary | Gale tells Prisma he finds her attractive when she fights and he wants her, but Prisma mistakes what he really says. A friend of her needs to point out that the wizard really likes her and now Prisma has to figure out how to tell him she shares the same feelings. (featuring my friends oc, Kaelith)

Masterlist

Prisma is very aware of her faults. Her lack of strength is a big one that she knows well, and maybe she is a little closed off, but she has her reasons. But the big fault of hers is she can’t read anyone or have the ability to look between the lines. She knows she takes a lot on face value, she has since she was young. Her mother would give her a command of some kind and then when Prisma thought she understood, she would come to learn that there was more to the request that she didn’t understand. Or there was a time when she was in her 20’s and one of the neighbors - a beautiful elf with short blonde hair - had asked her one evening if Prisma wanted to have dinner sometime. Prisma thought this was a request to hang out with a friend, so she accepted. She wouldn’t find out until halfway through dinner that this was indeed a date. And she only found out after the blonde elf told her she was nervous to ask her out on a dinner date.

Prisma wouldn’t forget the look on her face after Prisma choked on her apple salad and exclaimed. “This is a date?!”

Then came the awkward silence and Prisma having to admit she misunderstood the invitation.

Upon meeting Gale - or well, saving him by pulling him out of a rock; that was one way to meet someone - the wizard was a bit of a challenge for her. She enjoyed talking with him and could listen to him talk for hours about any subject. Quickly, she considered him to be a friend and she was sure he thought the same about her. But there were some aspects about the wizard that confused her. She knew he was flirting at times, but she’s known people before that she thought were flirting because they liked her, but would find out that’s just who they were. It didn’t mean anything.

So even though a blush that would rise to her cheeks and a tingle that would run through her system. She would send him a smile and let out a small laugh. Then turn away from him. She didn’t want to ruin a friendship by misreading things.

The fear of misreading seemed to run deeper than she anticipated. After they arrived into the Shadow-Cursed Lands and were attacked by some shadow figures with some - what Prisma would learn later call themselves - harpers. The buzz of adrenaline was still all around them as the final shadow figure went down, it took a second for Prisma to figure out how to breathe again and come back to center. Finally feeling the ache in her bones, the sweat that made her clothes cling to her skin, and suddenly the pain registered as she noticed new gashes on her skin that these figures caused. She stayed back as she took this moment to heal the gashes while everyone else looted the area or talked with the harpers. Her focus lessened as the wizard came up to her, saying something about if she read a book about something. Her head was a bit fuzzy from not only fighting shadow figures, but also the aura of this place. The feeling of sorrow, death, and despair already beginning to plague her. It was admittedly hard to listen to Gale as she did the last healing spell on herself. “Sorry, hun- what are you trying to say?” Prisma says finally, brushing wild red hair out of her face to be able to give Gale her full attention.

The way he was looking at her was different, she could note that, but he also seemed nervous. His thumb was rubbing his staff absentmindedly, and he has this nervous smile on his face. She felt his eyes rake over her whole body for a brief moment before snapping back up to look into her purple eyes. “Only that I find you quite irresistible. Even illuminated by such rotten light as this place produces.”

Confusion replaced Prisma’s expression. Raising an eyebrow as she looked around them. Nothing but darkness surrounded them, no sun was able to penetrate the tree’s and their only source of light was from the torch Astarion or Gale held. Or the tiny blue flame Prisma cradles in her hand.

“Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-death experience talking. But standing at your side through such darkness and despair, it only makes me want you more.”

“Want more what?” Prisma said out loud before she could stop herself. “Do you need me to get something for you? I get it. This place is more dreadful than I thought it would be. Despite Halsin’s warnings. Maybe at this Last Light Inn there will be something!”

Gale suddenly looked disappointed, a small frown on his face before quickly being replaced by a grim smile. But Prisma noticed that frown, more confusion filling her features. “It’s quite alright, Prisma.” Was all he said before he stepped away from her and began to go join the others on what they found. Prisma watched him, blinking owlishly, her brain trying to wrack what happened. Did he want something from her? And if so, what?

Prisma heard a muffled groan behind her and she turned to one of her newest friends - Kaelith. A half-elf with red hair that fell almost to their shoulders. Their face in their hands and looking pained. Not in the physical sense though, it seemed. They weren’t hit by the shadow figures from Prisma’s memory of the fight. “What?”

“You’re so stupid.”

“What?” Prisma squeaked, offended. “What did I do?”

“He just told you blatantly how he feels, and you still didn’t get it?”

“Wait, what-? What Gale just said?” Prisma took a second to try and rethink what Gale was telling her, but her fuzzy mind came up short. “What did I miss?”

“For fucks sake- He likes you!”

“He does?” Prisma deadpanned.

“Yes. The way he looks at you should be evidence enough. But he just said it to you now! That’s what he “wanted” from you.”

Prisma was quiet as she processed what Kaelith was saying. Gale liked her? She tried to remember everything since meeting Gale and she couldn’t deny the signs, it being more obvious now. And what just happened should’ve been the biggest sign to her. “Oh Gods.”

“Finally!” Kaelith exclaimed, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. “You have no idea how insufferable it’s been to watch this. Now, go talk to him!”

Prisma didn’t end up talking to Gale though. They had met the harpers at the Last Light Inn, met another druid - Jahiera - and then an ambush happened and came to save the cleric, Isobel. Things with Gale were quickly pushed to the back of her mind. It didn’t resurface for Prisma until they had finally made camp. Prisma sat near the fire at the center of their camp, poking the flames with a stick she had grabbed near her. Remembering everything that her and Gale have done together. Everything he’s said to her.

Kaelith was right. She was stupid.

“Darling, what are you doing?” Prisma was pushed out of her memory and turned her attention away from the flames to look up at her two friends. Astarion and Kaelith.

“Nothing.”

“Shouldn’t you be talking to someone?” Prisma followed Kaelith’s gaze to Gale at his tent. He wasn’t far from them, but he was sitting on one of his pillows at his tent, absorbed by whatever he was reading. Prisma knew he wouldn’t hear a thing. Prisma stood up and looked down to her friends, nervously tugging her cloak closer to her body.

“Are you sure you’re right about this?”

“Yes.” The warlock and vampire speak at the same time, exasperated by the druid’s nervous nature. Kaelith took Prisma by the shoulders and pushed her towards Gale’s tent while exclaiming “tell him!”

Prisma stumbled a little from surprise at the shove, turning to glare at the two for a moment, and then walked up to the wizard’s tent. His fingers were gliding over the pages as he read, the furrow in his brows as he focused was incredibly adorable, and he was totally not aware of Prisma’s presence until she cleared her throat.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there, Prisma.” With a smile, Gale closed his book and got up from his sitting position. “What can I do for you?”

“Um- I was hoping to talk with you about something.” She took a moment to look around their camp. There were a lot of them around, and she realized she didn’t want to do this in front of them. “Privately. Maybe when everyone else goes to sleep.”

“Oh- uhm, of course.”

Prisma sends him a smile and tells him to meet her at the house up on the hill.

As everyone began to wind down, Prisma took this opportunity to slip away from everyone. She grabbed some candles in her trunk that she had been collecting along the way and made sure to wash up a little bit before she heads up. Trying to get as much dirt and muck off of herself as she could. Entering the broken down house she found what seemed to be a queen size bed in the middle of the main room, with a fireplace and bedside tables with a wardrobe somehow still intact. There was another room off to the side, but it was so tiny, she decided to stay in the main room. She had lit the fireplace and slowly filled the room with candles. She held her blue flame as a bit of light and not only to light the candles, but she found the blue flame filled her with a sense of comfort. The fire was light to hold and kept her warm in such a cold and dead place. It was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her mind was still spiraling on what she should say to Gale though. And she wouldn’t have much time to figure it out as she heard a pair of footsteps, followed by said wizard’s voice. “Prisma?”

Prisma had been pacing the room as she tried to think what on each to say to him, stopping in her tracks at his voice. “Hey! Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course. Are you okay? You don’t look well.” Gale had taken a second to survey how many candles Prisma had spread out in the room, casting a beautiful glow throughout the broken room. But he stepped closer to her as he studied her face in the better light. The concern etched across his features caused a warmth to spread throughout her chest.

“No- well, yes. But I’m fine.” Prisma extinguished the blue flame from her hand, taking a second to take a breath and calm her nerves. “I feel like I should apologize.”

“What for?”

“Well, what you said earlier. I completely missed what you said and made a fool of myself and you, and I want to say sorry.”

He suddenly looked embarrassed and took a step back, distancing himself. The blush that raised to his cheek and ears was so adorable, it was hard for Prisma to hear his response. “Oh, it’s quite alright. It was very forward of me to say and not the time or place. If anything, I should be the one to-”

“But you shouldn’t!” Prisma couldn’t stop herself from interrupting, stepping closer to him before he could be too far from her. “I am usually very bad at reading people or looking between the lines. But sometimes when people tell me straight out what they want or need from me, I will still miss it. And that’s what you did. You told me what you wanted straight out, and I still missed it. Kaelith had to be the one to make me realize what you were saying.”

Gale blinked, surprised. Looking maybe a little mortified they were having this conversation now. “It’s okay, Prisma. Please, don’t stress about it. We can forget the interaction ever happened.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to forget it happened.” Prisma made one last step and reached her hand for Gale’s, letting their fingers interlock. “Besides, I didn’t ask you to come up here to talk about that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not?”

“No.. uhm... Gale, how do you feel about women who make the first move?”

A shy smile pulled at his lips, anticipation radiating off of him now. ���I don’t know. I’m still waiting for it to happen.”

“Goodness…” Prisma could feel her face heat up and she knew the large blush spreading across her cheeks and pointed ears had surfaced. Her mind was racing with excited anxiety, an inkling of fear what could happen if she did this.

She decided to stop listening to her fears. They haven’t been any help to her lately at all. She closed her eyes and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips against his own. Gale was eager to return the kiss, his free hand landing on her waist to pull her closer to his body heat. Despite the eagerness shared between the human and elf, there was an air of nervousness, a little hesitant on what could come next from doing this. Maybe she was mistaking it for excitement?

The smell and warmth of Gale enveloped Prisma like a familiar hug. A smell only she could associate with him now. Lavender, spice, and something old that only books could hold. Prisma also realized she’s never kissed anyone with a beard before. The scratch of his tickled her upper lip in such a pleasant way it quickly became a favorite of hers that she wanted more of.

Unfortunately for both, they needed to breathe. Prisma’s lungs begging for mercy. If there was no use for breathing Prisma would stay here and basically kiss the wizard to death.

Neither moved away from each other as they separated from the kiss, staring into each other’s flushed faces. Gale’s eyes were sparkling in a way she’s only seen when he had shown her a little bit how he performed his magic.

“Technically,” Gale spoke in a soft tone, no louder than a whisper. He let go of her hand to brush his fingers through her red hair with a gentle touch. She leaned into it. “I was the one who made the fire move.”

“Shut up.” Prisma breathed and pulled him back into a kiss. He gladly let her.

[kylobith]

Random BG3 one-shot coming out tonight! Hint for the character involved:

[graveyardcuddles]

Nectar - Astarion x Pregnant Fem!Reader nsfw One-Shot

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: Astarion makes love to his pregnant wife in the sun. That's it, that's the plot.

(also my first time attempting smut).

Tags/warnings: fem!reader, pregnant reader, pregnancy kink, pregnancy sex, breeding kink, oral sex (fem receiving), PiV sex, praise kink, body worship, super light teasing, extremely soft astarion, fluff, ooey-gooey lovey-dovey porn. also vampires can purr now bc I say so.

Word count: ~ 2500

The sweet smell of sun-warmed grass tickles your nose as you stir from your half-sleep. The leaves of the tree you were resting under rustled in the breeze, shimmering filtered sunlight over your resting spot. The warmth of the day had lulled you into a deep state of relaxation, the background melody of birds singing and insects buzzing almost hypnotic. Your upper half was comfortably shadded under the tree while your lower half was basking in the gentle sunlight. A thick blanket had been laid out underneath you, and a few throw pillows from inside had even been brought outside to maximize your comfort. Under your head, at your sides, a couple tucked under your hips and lower back. You needed all the comfort you could get now that you were in your seventh month of pregnancy. The novel you had been reading was now perched on your belly, forgotten about for now. Astarion, meanwhile, was resting in his favorite spot: between your legs.

His head lays at the apex of your thigh, nestled where it met your hip. His cool face was pressed against the swell of your belly - one arm snaked under a plush thigh. His other arm reaches up to cup the side of your belly. He's practically using you as a pillow, but you can't complain.

He had asked to cuddled up against you so sweetly - "May I, love? You're just so terribly soft, so lovely..." mumbled into your skin as he climbed into your lap like a cat.

You could hardly say "no" after that. His cold body provided a delightful contrast to the summer heat. A palm rests alongside the curve of your stomach, and the fingers of his other hand delicately run up and down your inner thigh, occasionally stopping to dig ever-so-slightly into the abundance of your flesh. You feel one of his pointed ears pressed into the lower curve of your belly, listening to the lifesong coming from within you: The double heartbeats of his wife and baby.

You look down and see the curve of your belly rising and falling gently with your breath, his head tucked up just to the side of your bump. You reach down and pet his hair, fingers winding around his curls. You feel him smiling against you. His hands continue to roam up and down your legs, nose nuzzling into your stomach. One hand wanders down under the short heam of your sundress to gently grope the cheek of your ass. "Ah! Naughty..." You scold him. He responds only with a satisfied hum to your belly.

You can't help but indulge him like this, though. He couldn't get enough of your body ever since it started growing to accommodate your little one. It had stared as a point of pride that he had simply managed to get you pregnant at all. But the more you began to show, the more reverent his gaze and touch became.

"Only you could make the impossible possible like this, my love. You were always full of surprises," he'd say, hands exploring your new curves. "And I must say this is one of my favorites you've sprung on me thus far."

He's always touching you - keeping a hand on the small of your back as you brush your hair in the mirror or coming up behind you to wrap his arms under your belly. The moment any insecurities around your changing body are brought up, he strikes them down immediately.

"I forbid you to feel ashamed at how beautifully your body is growing, darling. That's our baby you're growing. You're stunning, my love. A vision."

Astarion was still ever himself as always, though. One morning, you had dragged your tired frame out of bed before him and started padding your way over to the closet when you heard a snort come from under his breath. You turned around to see him watching you from bed, hand pressed over his mouth and failing to contain his laughter. After shooting him a very confused look he managed to compose himself.

"Oh, my little love," he said almost apologetically. "You um," he cleared his throat and looked a bit nervous, and perhaps for the first time ever, lost for words. "You have a...a bit of a waddle to your step, darling," he said as diplomaticly as possible as he made his way over to you.

You were seriously contemplating throwing the nearest shoe at him when he quickly added, "And it's absolutely adorable," he presses a kiss to your forehead, soothing the fury that was quickly rising up in you.

A sudden kick elicits a groan from you, and you rub over the sore spot. Astarion shifts and lifts his head from your thigh, rolling on his stomach to splay his hands out over your belly. He stares up at you from between your legs. "Are you alright, my dear?" He asks while watching you carefully for any signs of more pain. You stretch lazily and smile at him. His concern for you tugs on your heartstrings.

"You're incredible." He held you and cooed sweet nothings in your ear as he wiped away the angry tears. "My little miracle maker, creating life from unlife." He kisses you until you stop sniffling.

"The sway of your step just shows how strong you are, my love. Strong enough to carry our precious little dhampir, my brilliant girl." Eventually, after a long massage session, all was forgiven.

"Hmm. Are you still comfortable, darling? We can always go back inside if you'd like." His fingers make cold soothing circles on your warm belly, and suddenly, the desire pooling between your legs feels unbearable.

"Yes, my heart. Just some kicking." He lifts your dress up and over the curve of your belly, exposing it to the sun. He traces the stretchmarks on your lower belly with his fingertip. The contrast of the sun's warmth on your sensitive skin and his cool fingers tracing over where your taut skin has stretched to grow and give and make way for your baby feels heavenly.

The sensation sends off unexpectedly strong sparks all over your body before you know it you're already breathy. "Ahhh- Astarion!" He smiles and presses kiss after kiss on your bump. You gasp softly, your desire overflowing quickly as you find yourself increasingly sensitive to his touch.

"Oh...No, I'm alright to stay out out here for now," you mumble to him, a bit breathless. "I'm enjoying the sun." He buries his face just under your swell, inhaling deeply where your thighs meet. "Good girl, let me take care of you."

He nuzzles his nose along the thin waistband of your underwear. You breathe deep as you feel him hold a kiss over the thin wet line forming over your panties. His open mouth teases you, lips and tongue prodding and tugging at sensitive puffy flesh. Both his hands come up to cup your ass and hold you to him as he kisses you impossibly deeper through your soaked panties. His hands run down your legs, catching on your ruined undergarments and pulling them down to discard them. He gently parts your thighs as he leans back to admire you.

"Beautiful," he mutters to himself like a prayer. "So beautiful..." He's staring down at you through hooded eyes, his pupils so blown out with just you can hardly see the red there anymore. That predatory vampiric gaze that would normally prelude a bite to your neck. Instead, he drinks you in every other way that he can. Touching, smelling, tasting you. He massages the heel of his palm over your puffy mons, drawing out long pleasured cries of his names. His hand comes down to cup your sex, playing with your pussy teasingly. The drawn-out lazy motions already have you crying out.

"Oh my sweet girl," he coos as he leans foreword, carefully hovering over you and gently kissing you. Grounding you. The hormones coursing through your body already have you panting and shaking. "Use your words. Tell me what you need." You catch your breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and grounding yourself in his scent. "You. Need you. Please, make me feel good."

He kisses you deeply before trailing kisses from your mouth down your neck. He moves to your chest, kissing over where your heart pounds against the skin. He gently cups your tender breast, aching badly these days. He nuzzles and kisses them delicately. Finally, he slows down over your bump again. He grabs you by your thighs and hooks them up on his shoulders. You look down at him and see his ruby eyes disappear under your belly. Not being able to see him added to your anticipation.

You gasp as you feel his cool, flat tongue give a long, lazy lick up your slit. It feels like pleasantly cool water refreshing your overheated core as he laps again and again, his pace excruciatingly slow. You try to control your breath and clutch at the blanket below you as he indulges in you, but your body is buzzing with euphoria. You attempt to buck your hips against his face despite the added weight on your pelvis. He wraps his forearms around your thighs and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply over your clit before resuming his meal, feasting even deeper.

He groans, relishing in your taste, as his head works up and down, over and over again - pressing the flat of his tongue over you with a little more pressure each time. You let out a high-pitched keen and felt your pussy spasm desperately around nothing. You were shocked at how close you already felt to the edge.

"Remember to breathe, darling." He mumbles cheekily, one hand coming up to rub up the side of your hip. Your hand finds his, and your fingers intertwine. He's decided you've had enough teasing, and you cry out again as he presses his mouth fully into you. His tongue slots into your aching pussy, nose buried in your clit and his brow rest gently against your swollen mons. He lets out a deep groan of satisfaction as he nuzzles his nose and mouth into you, collecting your nectar. You try to control your breathing as you whine and moan and squeeze his hand as he holds you steady.

You can feel him grinding his pelvis into the ground, clearly needy for his own stimulation, but he remains focused solely on you. The pained groans from his throat suddenly evolve into deeper growls and then a rumbling from within his chest. He presses his tongue flat against you, dragging it along you again and again, so deliciously slow each time you try and escape from the feeling, but he holds you through the overstimulation. His grinding becomes more urgent. He suckles at your clit and you cry out a long strangled moan as your legs clamp down around his head, your inner thighs rubbing his sensitive ears.

Deep vampiric purrs resonate out from his chest and travel up his throat. You can feel the vibrations running from him to you, his pleasure spurring on your own. He pushes two fingers inside you and pumps them in and out rhythmically while sucking your clit in time. It's too much, and the only way you can maintain your breathing is keen and cry out each breath. Your cries feed his purring in a feedback loop, making them stronger and threatening to topple you over.

His fingers curl upwards inside you, and the combination of sensations finally does you in. Pulse after intense pulse rapidly throbs through your overstimulated pelvic muscles, contracting around Astarion's fingers as you ride it out. You wail as he continues to hold the suction over your clit as you cum, intensifying your orgasm. Jolts of ecstacy lance through your belly and spread out to the rest of your body in waves. Your head spins, your nipples tingle at the slightest friction from your dress, and when you close your eyes, you see bursts of color. The almost painfully intense throbbing in your core tappers out into fluttering pulses, a puddle of slick having pooled underneath you.

Your head lolls back and you gulp down air, legs shaking as Astarion gives you a few more licks for good measure. Once you ride out your orgasm he kisses you, checking on you to make sure you're not hurt. You nod through your post-orgasm haziness that you're alright. More than alright, really.

"Darling," Astarion groans as if he's in pain, palming at the tent in his pants. "Can I finish inside you? Please, I need to be inside you, love."

You smile and begin to move to your side, already supported by your many cushions. He guides you into position, laying on your side with a pillow under your belly. Your dress is fully pushed up, laying yourself bare before him. Astarion pulls out his cock and you feel the precum dripping on your thighs as he lifts your leg gently. He carefully lines himself up with your slick entrance and pushes himself in. He leans foreword and shudders but holds your leg steady, his other hand never leaving your belly.

He groans your name like a prayer, moving in short, fast thrusts as he quickly falls apart. He mutters incoherently in his bliss.

"Sweet girl, my sweet girl. So good to me, having my baby. My love, all mine."

He loses his pace, and his thrusts become choppy. His brows furrow together, and his fangs peak out from his upper lip as he lets go. He calls out your name as he cums, and you feel his release throbbing deep within you, drawing a few more spasms out of your sensitive pussy and making you both moan.

With the both of you now breathless he pulls out gently, cum leaking all over your thighs. He kisses your ankle as he gently lays your leg back down. Astarion moves to lay behind you and wraps his arms around your taut middle. He nestles in close, listening to your heartbeat slow down from your lovemaking. Your hand finds his, and you lace your fingers together again. As you begin to dift off into semi-consciousness, Astarion scoops you up effortlessly despite your pregnant frame. He smiles to himself, thinking he has the whole world in his arms.

"Let’s get you inside, my dear."

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Cuddling up to Astarion in his tent, curled up against his side with your head on his chest while he reads. The soft rumble of his voice in his chest, and the long fingers of his free hand softly playing with your hair, lulls you to sleep.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[galemancer]

this is the only contribution i have for this fandom

[precious-little-bhaalbabe]

One of my favorite Astarion lines when you select him has to be the “More like Drizzt DON’T’Urden!” one. Not because it’s actually funny, but because there’s never anything Drizzt Do’Urden related happening whenever he says it. He’s just Thinking About Him.

[justporo]

okay but can we talk about this: when halsin tells tav he wants her (and Astarion) but you're in a relationship with Astarion so when you go talk to him about it he asks "But answer me one thing, this isn't because haven't.... you know... in a while" because oh boy my heart, just the thought of what must be going through his mind

See, this is also what I was thinking about and I would have loved there to be an option to just listen to Halsin's proposition (because he's a national treasure and just so damn pure) but then be like "listen, you honour me, so thank you, but no thank you. I'm with Astarion and I fear there's no more space in my heart." And then go to Astarion and talk about it with him and reassure him that there is only him for you. And because I would have liked that, I'm gonna write it out in a drabble: Astarion / GN!Tav (You)

"First in my heart!"

"You wouldn't believe the talk I just had with Halsin..." You say as you saunter over to Astarion, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. What Halsin had just proposed had majorly thrown you off your game - who would have thought the archdruid had it in himself to be so... forthcoming?

Astarion looks up from his book with raised eyebrows but catches your meaning in a heartbeat. He throws his head back and starts laughing. "No way, I was waiting for that to happen actually", he says and puts the book down, then crosses his arms over his chest as well, mimicking you.

Your brows furrow: "How did you..." Astarion lowers his head a little and stares at you. "You must've been blind to not notice the stares he's thrown you since he joined our jolly party. The man's basically a dog barking and salivating at the dinner table that is you - waiting to devour whatever he gets." You blush hard, too stuned to speak and your mouth just falls open - no way this had been actually a thing others had noticed before tonight. But also - can you just hear the slightest strain in Astarion's voice?

"And on top of that", Astarion scoffs "the guy can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts'. I bet he'd outlaw clothing if he could." The impression Astarion makes of Halsin is incredibly on point, he laughs, seemingly waving the druid's adavnces off but... you see that the laugh doesn't reach the vampire's eyes fully.

Still you are dumbfounded by the developments of the evening, your mouth basically only closing and opening as if you'd been turned into a fish.

"Astarion, I wouldn't...", you finally get out but get immediately interrupted again by the spawn who starts to ramble on about how he doesn't mind, how he'd actually be interested to know how it goes down - and also if Halsin would shapeshift in the bedroom...

And what had been your suspicion from the moment you had started to tell Astarion was now clear for you: no matter how much Astarion would actually be open for you to share the bed with someone else even though the two of you are in a commited relationship - it wouldn't actually be fine for him. Maybe not exactly out of jealousy, but because he is actually insecure albeit he'd never openly admit it. Because he actually does care very much about his relationship to you and is so deeply scared to do anything that will break the spell. So scared actually, he'd rather let you share the bed with someone else despite not being fine with it.

And that makes your heart break because no one should feel forced to do that, right? But luckily for the vampire, you're decision had already been made. More so, there hadn't been a decision to begin with.

"But let me ask one thing", Astarion finally says, his eyes wide now, face open and vulnerable "it's not because... you know... we haven't... in a while?" His eyes almost seem to widen more while desperately waiting for your answer. Even though he doesn't move you can see the fear and nervousness in his posture that is just too tense for his usual nonchalant manner.

Your heart breaks into a thousand pieces: "Oh, Astarion, I'm not... asking for your permission to get nasty with Halsin."

The vampire's face drops completely, his arms fall down limply at his side. You see how shock and hurt start clouding his face. He helplessly opens his mouth: "Oh..." His gaze lowers from yours, flitting around everywhere but your face

Your eyes widen - that is not at all what you meant. "No, no, no, Astarion" - you rush to him and grab him by the shoulders. "No, you didn't catch my meaning. What I'm saying is, I'm not asking permission because there is nothing to ask for. I would never consider being with someone else." His gaze snaps back to yours - his eyes not yet free of worry and hurt.

You lick your lips, desperatly trying to show him what you feel for him. To show him that the reason you hadn't noticed Halsin's interest in you was because you only had eyes for him. And to make sure he knows there will be no one else: "Astarion, you are first in my heart. No, more even, you are the only one in my heart like this - there's no space to share." And because you feel that your feelings might completely overwhelm you, you wrap your arms around the vampire, holding him tightly.

"Oh", Astarion makes again - but this time in a much different tone. He hugs you back, burying his face in your hair.

After a while you lean back and look into his eyes before pressing a kiss to his lips that makes him sigh dreamily. "I'm sorry I doubted you", he whispers, his face still vulnerable. "I'm sorry I made you doubt me", you reply and give him a warm smile.

"Also", you say and grin at him "I think I already had a date with a bottle of wine, a book and a vampire for tonight." Astarion grins back at you and unwraps one of his arms to motion towards the pillows in front of his tent: "Let's not make the bottle wait any longer then."

[dragonsfictavern]

Without Much Spoken

Astarion x gn!Reader

a/n: My first attempt at posting for bg3 and Astarion. But I plan to continue posting many more fics for not only this lil guy, but for a lot of the party! So stick around!

summary: During one night of your groups travels together, Astarion enters the room to find you overwhelmed and crying. Acting before thinking it through, Astarion comforts you.

word count: 1.1k

Walking up the stairs of the Inn their group was staying in for the next couple of days, Astarion opens the door as he normally would, heading to bed after the exhausting day that had finally, at last, ended. He was more than ready to plop into bed and fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep. His only true escape that lasted far few hours.

But as soon as the door creaked open, a small sliver of light shining through, your sobs broke through the silence like a fierce screech. They stopped a moment after, the silence even more heavy and the tension growing thick the longer neither of you speak.

Astarion opens the door, only a bit further. Enough for the light from the hall to catch on your features. Your frozen, having fled to isolation in order to prevent this. To stop anyone from seeing you, to not bother anyone else with the weight of your intensely hyperactive feelings. Especially him. God, you didn’t want to bother him with this.

Astarion was always good for a light joke, a quick quip. He was good at that. At making things feel lighter, even unintentionally making you feel better at times. But that’s not what you wanted right now. You didn’t want to feel better in that way, you didn’t want to attempt to push aside your emotions for another, you didn’t want to just forget about what you felt. You needed to let out what was overwhelming you. What twisted your gut with anxiety, what made it hard to breathe, what sent your body into overdrive, what clouded your mind and made you feel like a complete mess.

You needed it out, and you knew Astarion wasn’t typically the one to go to with that sort of thing. You never held it against him, you cared for him, you may even love him. But you knew he had little to no experience in the ways of comforting someone. Knew he didn’t really know how to do that. So, in an action you convinced herself was selfless, you didn’t confide in him. Didn’t give him the chance to offer whatever type of comfort he possibly could provide.

And Astarion knew it all and more. With his past, he knew how to read people easily. Learning how others think was vital in his line of work, in his everyday life, in his survival… Reading you always seemed a little bit easier for him to do than it was with others. He could see what you were trying to do. The way your body stiffened on the bed, the tears both dried and fresh on your cheeks, the way your hands clenched as if you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

Astarion didn’t feel any particular way about this revelation. He could see your reasoning, your line of thinking and what brought you to the conclusions you ended up at. So he honestly couldn’t explain why he reacted the way he did.

His hand shuts the door, encompassing you both back into darkness without thought. His feet move toward you on their own. Though the darkness surrounds you both, both of your eyes end up adjusting again. You can see the way Astarion stops at the edge of the bed, his form hovering over your curled frame on the bed.

It’s without a word that he slides into bed behind you, his back resting comfortably against the headboard. His legs spread wide, giving you enough space to sit between them. His hands softly curl around you, not trying to overwhelm you even more. One hand around your stomach, feeling the erratic breaths you take as you attempts to hide your cries. The other hand over your heart, feeling its pounding rhythm, both from the mix of emotions that sent you to this state and from him finding you here. He didn’t need to do this, his hearing being able to pick it up well enough on its own. But for some reason he needed the reassurance. That it was all real.

He pulls you into his chest and you don’t hesitate to fall against him, putting your weight on him. He isn’t doing this to prove anything to you. To prove he can comfort you, if you needed him to. No, he isn’t going to make you come to him and he’s not going to make you hide. He doesn’t know why he’s done this. He just… did. Wanted to. It’s all he can grasp onto.

The feeling of him being there was enough, you realize. It had taken so much energy to try and remain still after Astarion found you, but now that he was here and he’s staying, you can’t hold it in any longer. It physically pained you beyond explanation. Sobs broke out of you, the action moving your body with its force. You couldn’t control it.

Astarion just sits there, not saying anything and not really doing anything either. But it’s more than enough. You didn’t realize how being alone had made everything so much worse. You thought that being alone, having nothing around that could possibly add to your array of emotions was what was best for you. But as you two laid together, you noticed the way Astarion didn’t add anything. The way he could actually help in ways everyone else just couldn’t seem to.

Eventually you begin to calm down, your body shaking but your emotions releasing and leaving you. That’s when you feel Astarion’s hand on the back of your head. You jump slightly, but besides that, you don’t dare acknowledge it. His hand gently starts combing through your hair. Then when he reaches the end, he brings it back to the top of your head. You sigh heavily, falling into him further. The peace of the empty silence, the darkness that covers everything, washes over you both. Neither of you seem to want to break it.

You tilt your head ever so slightly, hoping he doesn’t stop. The gesture was doing wonders to help calm you down further. You can barely make out Astarion through the darkness, but you can see enough to tell he’s simply staring ahead. It’s then you realize that he probably hadn’t even noticed what he’s doing to you. How he’s actually comforting you. It sends waves of pleasure through you, working both to overwhelm you a bit more and yet also calming you. You fall back, fully resting on him once again as he, in a way, pets you. Your eyes seemingly closed on their own.

It’s only after an unknown amount of time that he murmurs in your ear, “I’m here.”

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Eat Your Young

Astarion and Tav take advantage of the rainy weather in camp. Pure smut, no plot.

Pairings: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, swearing. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Listen, usually I like a lil plot but Astarion sometimes deserves just some good ole smut, right?! Also inspired by the Hozier song, "Eat Your Young"

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

Astarion's hand roughly ran down your neck, the candles in his tent casting shadows over the space. He hissed in pleasure as his fingers gracefully found your collarbone, his nails tickling the skin around your neck. You groaned, your eyes fluttering closed.

"This is not what I came in here for." You said, even though you knew that was a lie.

Well, partly.

Basically since the beginning of your adventure with the companions, you and Astarion had found yourselves drawn to each other. First as friends, but then quickly into a sexual situation. A way to satiate yourselves, and to have a bit of shining light in the darkness that was all the doom and gloom and battle and blood.

"Oh?" Astarion asked, his mouth dangerously close to your neck, "And what did you actually come in here for?" His voice was melodic, almost a purr. You felt his fangs lightly drag across your neck - enough to leave a scratch, but not enough to break skin. You gasped.

"F-for the book," You were able to choke out, one of your hands finding his hair. You ran your fingers through his locks, earning a quick moan from Astarion, "The book I lent you last week. I know you're done reading it, so-"

"You came all the way across camp in a rain storm for a book you could easily get from me tomorrow?" He pulled away, his eyes twinkling. It was bullshit, and he knew it. "Is that why both of our clothes are off, and were discarded on the floor within 45 seconds of you coming into my tent, my pet?"

"Um..." You bit your lip and both of you smiled, "I'm easily distracted." You tried to argue, but Astarion's lips were on you again, his tongue quickly finding yours. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body on yours, his erection pressing into your stomach. Thunder clapped outside, causing you to jump, which caused Astarion to wrap his arm around your back tighter, bringing you closer.

"What do you want, my darling? Tell me," He pulled away from your mouth, but his lips were still touching yours. Your heart pounded in your chest from his breath on your face, "Tell me what you want." His voice was velvet smooth, causing your stomach to clench. You groaned, unable to stop yourself - how did this fucking man know exactly what to say, and exactly what to do to get you going?

"I want your cock in my mouth," You said quickly, it coming out as one breath. His eyebrows raised and he smirked, wordlessly pushing himself to the edge of the bed to give you space. Looking down at his erection, you felt a wave of heat rush to your clit, unable to contain yourself.

Before he could even lay down, your mouth was on his cock hungrily. He moaned in surprise, his voice echoing off the tent walls. Immediately your mouth filled with spit as you worked on his thick member, using your tongue the exact way you knew he loved. His hands found their way into your hair and pulled, causing you to grip the blankets underneath your hands.

"Hells, you're so fucking good," Astarion grumbled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, "Deeper." He commanded.

You made your way fully down on his member, causing his hips to buck in your mouth. You felt your eyes water a bit, and pulled up, taking your mouth completely off of his cock. "Does that feel good?" You toyed, pumping him in your hand. He moved his head back to look at you, his eyes a deep red. You watched the end of his mouth turn up in the shadow of a smile.

Suddenly, the rain started to beat harder against the tent walls.

In one swift movement, Astarion's hand grabbed your chin, pull you on top of him. His member, slick with your spit and precum, slid against your body, causing you to gasp. He looked between your eyes before hungrily crashing his lips against yours again, this time pulling your hair roughly.

"Not as good as it'll feel when I'm inside of you." He said in your ear, before biting your lobe. You moaned loudly, the noise getting lost in the rain.

"Then fuck me."

"Say please."

"Please, Astarion! I need you."

"You need me to what?"

"To fuck me. I need your dick inside of me." You reached down to his cock and started to pump him again, causing Astarion to erupt a small moan from his lips. He looked into your eyes one final time before he flipped you below him.

"On your stomach." He said, waiting patiently. He was sitting high up on his knees, looking down on you. Now, his cock was in his own hand and he stroked it slowly, taking the full length of his member in his palm. He didn't break eye contact as you got on your belly. Soon, you felt him spread your legs gently, and his body weight pressed on top of you.

"I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll be screaming to the gods by the end of it." He murmured in your ear. You shuddered at his voice, and soon you felt him lining himself up at your entrance.

"Oh, Astarion..." You breathe, your thoughts becoming a jumbled mess. You heard him chuckle before he continued on.

"Are you ready?" He asked. You felt like you couldn't speak, your stomach was so clenched in anticipation. You nodded, and almost instantly his cock was deep inside of you, sending ripples of pleasure throughout your body. You called out, lifting your head. As you lifted your head, Astarion took hold of your hair and pulled.

"Gods, you are so fucking tight." He groaned, every word accentuated by a thrust inside of you. You clapped you hand over your mouth so you wouldn't cry out, but he pulled it away, "Don't. I want everyone to hear."

"Fuck, Astarion!" You called out, his hands finding your hips for better leverage. You felt a heat start to rise within you, causing you to breath harder. "Don't stop! Right there-"

"Right there?" He purred, his voice teasing, "Right there and I'm going to make my good girl come?"

"Yes!" You moaned, his voice ripping through you, "Yes right there and I'm going to come. Don't stop!"

The sound of his cock pounding into you filled the tent as your mind became foggy. The pleasure started to soften the sides of your vision as Astarion gripped your hips, definitely leaving marks for tomorrow. As your words turned into incoherent noises, you felt Astarion thrust into you harder, making sure you felt filled.

"Show me you're a good girl," He murmured, his voice steady; in control. As Astarion often was - in control. It drove you crazy, usually the catalyst in tipping you over the edge. "Be my good girl and come for me."

Finally, you felt yourself spill over him as you cried out his name - the heat rose completely in you and for a moment, Astarion stopped thrusting in you, taking his hands and wrapping them around your waist, so that he could feel your orgasm completely. With your head so close to his, he whispered words of praise in your ear - "Good girl. That's it - come for me. Let me feel it. Give me all of it."

You panted, your thoughts finally starting to align again. As you regained control of your body, Astarion gently flipped you over. Spreading your legs open, he entered you again slowly, earning a whimper from you. Two thrusts in and he caused you to throw your head back, crying his name.

"That's it - that's my girl," He hissed, speeding his thrusts up slowly, "Let me see that pretty face, darling. Your pretty face is going to make me come."

"Astarion, FUCK. You feel so good!" You couldn't help yourself as he started again, one of his hands finding it's way to your erect nipples. He pinched and palmed your tits as they bounced with every thrust - the sight of your body bouncing, and your face calling his name, he wasn't far behind you with an orgasm. But, he wanted it to last...

He wanted to wear you out.

It was always so sexy seeing you struggle in the following days, knowing that he alone was the cause.

"Your cock...feels so good..." You panted, your hands finding their way to his shoulder blades. Thunder clapped again, drowning out the scream you cried as Astarion hit your spot. Once he realized how crazy he was driving you, he smiled.

"All for you," He grunted, "This cock is all for you." Sweat beaded at his temples as he stared into your eyes. They were dark, hungry - he started to get the glint in his eyes that he would before he was sent over the edge.

Astarion pounded into so hard that the bed groaned under the pressure. You could feel Astarion's body start to tense above you, so you gripped Astarion's ass, pushing him deeper into you.

The extra effort made you start to see stars, and Astarion was on the same page; "I'm close," He grunted, touching his forehead to yours, "Hells, you're going to make me come."

"Come for me," You breathed, placing a sloppy, rough kiss on his lips, "Come for me."

Suddenly, Astarion called out your name, and you felt him spill into you. The tension in his body reached his climax and gradually released, his body laying completely on top of you.

The only noise in the tent - besides the pounding rain - was your and Astarion's breathing. The shallow, quick breaths turned into deeper, heftier breaths and you regained your composure, the heating slowly leaving your body.

"Gods, you're beautiful." Astarion murmured, brushing your sweaty hair behind your ear gently. He delicately placed a kiss on your lips as he slid down to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you tight. You sighed contently, running a hand over his side and snuggling your head closer into his shoulder. A moment of silence passed before you spoke.

"I did actually come here for that book, you know." You teased, causing him to chuckle.

"Oh? Would you like me to go get it for you then?" He asked, pretending to get out of bed. You giggled and gently pushed him back down.

"Shut up," You playfully scolded him, "I just wanted to let you know that I didn't just come here to seduce you."

"But darling, it's so much fun getting seduced by you." He looked at you and smirked, his eyes sparkling. You rolled your eyes and placed a kiss on his mouth.

"Well...I guess I'll have to let you borrow my books more often, then."

------

My first time doing smut with no plot - I'm gonna be honest, I don't know how I feel about it yet! What did you all think?

Just a reminder: my inbox is open for requestions!

[whatacaitastrophe]

Guilty as Sin?

Summary: After confessing his feelings for Tav, Gale fantasizes about them back in his tent, because he's an idiot who said they needed to wait a little longer to explore their mutual desires.

Rating: Explicit Words: ~1k

Tags: Pillow Humping, Masturbation, Gender neutral Tav, Tav is referred to as "You" Song Inspo: "Guilty as Sin?" - Taylor Swift Author Notes: Shout out to the Magic Man discord server for making me write this, and shout out to Taylor Swift for writing a song about masturbation.

“It’s quite thrilling— to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially at your side.”

Despite the raised eyebrows from Shadowheart and the snide remarks from Astarion (“Really? You’re telling them this now? Right now?”), Gale wasn’t sorry for confessing his attraction to you after the heat of battle. Now that Elminster had quieted the orb in Gale’s chest, he was no longer afraid to be candid about his attraction to you. After all, the mere thought of kissing you was, until recently, a threat to Gale’s very existence. He was touch starved, and now that he could finally do something about it? Why would he wait to finally lay the groundwork of his desires with you until you were alone. 

Besides, saying it in front of Astarion also had its perks. The vampire could no longer feign ignorance to the connection Gale shared with you. Therefore, Astarion could no longer continue flirting with you, or do anything else the two of you were doing in the dead of night while everyone else slept, without blatantly walking into Gale’s territory. 

Declaring his intentions with you (and hearing you say that you felt the same way) sent a message, loud and clear: You belonged to Gale, and Astarion needed to back the fuck off. 

The only misstep Gale made when confessing his attraction to you was insisting that it wasn’t the time or place, that the two of you needed to wait a little longer before exploring your desires. If he’s being honest with himself, that just might be the stupidest thing Gale has ever said. 

That was the thought that kept Gale up after everyone else went to sleep, tossing and turning as he silently kicked himself for not immediately inviting you to his tent. There was a reason, of course, Gale wanted the gesture to be as beautiful and grand as the object of his affections, and he couldn’t do it after a full day of flinging spells at shadow-cursed creatures. Damn his lofty ambitions for getting the best of him, even in the simplest ways. 

Gale huffed with frustration as he rolled onto his back, the thoughts of you plaguing his mind and making his cock impossibly hard. As Gale slid his hand over his chest, he could only pray that  this would be his last night indulging in a fantasy about you instead of indulging in the real thing. 

Closing his eyes, Gale started off slowly—palming himself over his pajamas, squeezing his shaft gently. He imagined it was you: You with your soft hands that he’d had the pleasure of brushing against while sitting around the campfire. It was you that slipped deft fingers beneath the hem of his trousers, stroking Gale’s cock with feather light touches. It was you who pulled Gale’s trousers down past his hips, allowing his already leaking cock to spring free from its confines. 

“I’ve been waiting for this, for so long.” You said in his mind as he slowly stroked his cock, imagining the way you’d tease him because oh— you would tease him, Gale was certain of it. After all, the two of you had already spent weeks flirting and verbally teasing each other. Why wouldn’t you want to drag it out a little longer. 

“Please,” Gale begged audibly, speaking only to the image of you in his head. “I need more.” Gale stroked himself harder as he imagined you complying with his request, leaning forward and enveloping his cock with the wet, hot heat of your mouth. Gale arched his hips into his hand, a soft moan tumbling from his lips at the thought of you swallowing his cock to the hilt until it tickled the back of your throat. 

When he couldn’t take it any longer, Gale reached for one of the many pillows he had in his tent and rolled over desperately, placing the pillow between his legs as he straddles it. A soft moan left Gale’s mouth as he braced one hand on the ground and held the pillow in place with the other. As he began grinding against the pillow, the vision in his mind shifted. 

You’re beneath him now, your body ready and waiting to take him. Gale imagines what you sound like when you moan as he slides his cock inside of you— how pretty your voice sounds when Gale is the source of your pleasure instead of someone else. How pretty Gale’s name will sound when it’s sung from your lips as he fucks you. A quiet moan passes through Gale’s lips at the thought as he ruts against the pillow, aching and desperate for you. 

“Harder.” Your voice is crystal clear in Gale’s mind, as is your body trembling beneath him as he fucks you the way you requested. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the pillow becomes warm beneath him. It’s not quite the same as having a body beneath him, but it will do. Gale’s hips snapped desperately as he chased his pleasure and pretended that it’s not a pillow beneath him, sheathing his cock as he moved, but the velvet warmth of your inner walls. 

“Gods, you look incredible,” Gale whimpered softly as he pictured his thick length sliding in and out of you. “You take me so well.” He whispered to no one as he doubled his efforts, hips rutting erratically as Gale’s climax swiftly approached. 

“I love you.” 

Those were the last words Gale imagined leaving your lips before slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the moan that escapes him as he cums with a shout. Hot spurts of semen burst from Gale’s cock as he rode the pillow into his own personal oblivion, ruining the fabric beneath him the same way he imagined ruining you. 

It was only once his cock was spent and over-sensitive that Gale collapsed onto his bedroll, panting, sweating, and dizzy from the intensity of his climax. The visions of you fade away slowly as Gale stares at the ceiling of his tent, leaving him only as satisfied as one can be after masturbating while the object of their desire slept a dozen feet away: spent, but already aching for more. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow Gale would volunteer to stay back at camp so he could save his strength, so he could save his magic, for you. 

Tomorrow, Gale would make you completely and utterly his. He needed to. 

Because if he didn’t, he was going to run out of pillows. 

[oceanmusings]

Kiss It Better

Pairing | Shadowheart x Prisma

Content Warning | some spoilers to Shadowheart story (act 2? I can't remember when the source of her pain is revealed.) Prisma wants to comfort her lover. She also confesses her love to Shadowheart. I didn't plan on it, but Prisma wanted it to happen. This is Fluff/Comfort really.

Word Count | 1.2K

Summary | Prisma knows Shadowheart feels these pains in her hand and she would rather all of them ignore it, but Prisma can't help but want to comfort the half-elf she cares for. Especially after she just confessed her love.

Masterlist

The first time it happened was at The Emerald Grove, standing in the Druid Quarters as Prisma convinced Kagha to let the little Tiefling child go. It was common for children to steal - even ritual artifacts - but they were children and given the option to grow and learn from their mistakes. The wood-elf watched the little girl run out of the quarters before Prisma’s eyes darted to her new dark haired companion yelp out in pain, clutching her hand. She raised an eyebrow to her, curious what had happened. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s just an old wound that hurts me from time to time. Nothing to be concerned about.” Shadowheart assured her as she rubbed the hand. Prisma finally noticed the black spot on the back of her hand. “It’s just something… I have to live with.”

“Dose it hurt?” Prisma asks, then immediately cringes as she realizes how stupid of a question that was. The woman just yelped out in pain, of course it hurts. “Sorry- that was a stupid question.”

“It’s okay.” Shadowheart muttered. “It hurts quite a lot, but it passes quickly. So I can manage.”

Prisma left it at that, but the more it happened, the more it pained Prisma to watch each flinch and yelp. Sometimes when she would smile at Prisma, her hand would flash and the smile would drop. A pit quickly developed in Prisma’s stomach, she wanted to make it better, especially when she was the source of making Shadowheart smile or laugh. The reveal of it being the act of her goddess Shar as a motive of punishment fueled that pit in Prisma’s stomach. She realized she wanted to make Shadowheart happy, to be the source of her smile, but without any involvement from Shar. Anytime it would happen too Shadowheart would request they ignore it, it moved on quickly and she didn’t want to put any attention onto it. As much as selfishly Prisma wanted to make it better, she respected that wish.

Once the two had become more than friends was an emotional day for Prisma and Shadowheart. It surprised Prisma she truly did feel the same connection, but was elated she wanted to pursue that feeling. But seeing the shock of pain now being Shadowheart’s lover brought a pain to Prisma as well. The last thing she wanted to do was make Shadowheart’s pain about herself, so she kept quiet, respected her wishes on ignoring anytime she heard the woman she cared for deeply yelp out “it hurts!” But watching the person you care for going through a pain caused by another just “because” was a pain Prisma didn’t know how to deal with. So she buried it, it was the best she could do.

“I-I haven’t said this to anyone before.” It was dark out, the stars twinkling above them as the moon watched the two lovers sit by a lake by themselves. Prisma had asked Shadowheart if she would meet her here at this lake when they got back to camp. Spend a night without the prying of their friends back at camp, and it’s been a while since it’s been the two of them. Besides, Prisma wanted to talk to her without anyone overhearing her.

“I’ve told people I care for them, that the care I feel for them is deep. But these certain words always get stuck in my throat. Never able to be uttered to anyone.” Prisma nervously picked a daisy close by her, holding up the tiny flower and rubbing the stem between her fingers to have the flower spin. “These words are terrifying, if I’m perfectly honest. I was afraid to say it to anyone. But… No matter how little time we’ve been traveling together, I can’t help but find myself not terrified to say it to you.”

“What are those words?” Shadowheart whispered, like she spoke any louder she would spook off the druid.

She looked down to Shadowheart, the beautiful woman lounging with her at the edge of a lake. Her chest bloomed happily the more she looked at Shadowheart as she patiently waited for her lover to speak. Prisma raised her hand, tucking the daisy behind Shaodwheart’s pointed ear.

“... I love you.”

She swallowed nervously as she watched for any reaction from Shadowheart, the tiniest out, any moment of rejection that could be coming her way. But all she found was a smile that pulled at her lips, making Prisma’s own smile grow.

“I love you, too.”

Shadowheart scooted closer to the other woman, slotting herself against Prisma’s side. Raising her hand to cup her cheek, brushing her thumb across the apple of Prisma’s green freckled cheek. It was either the relief or a magnet that pulled Prisma into her and pressed her lips against her lovers. She didn't care which it was.

Kissing Shadowheart had quickly become a favorite thing for Prisma to do. Typically in front of the others, the ones they would share in front of the others was soft, Prisma’s hand gently on Shadowhearts waist to pull her in as they make the kiss quick. But these ones, without anyone to see or interrupt, were the best ones. The way she slots herself against the wood-elf, leaving almost all her weight to be supported by her lover. Sometimes nipping at her lips just to cause a giggle to rise out of Prisma was adorable at how satisfied she was with herself. Shadowheart lets Prisma run on of her hands from her cheek to cupping her neck, able to feel her heartbeat faintly against her thumb as she deepens the kiss between them.

Prisma could do this forever.

Slowly she reluctantly parted the kiss, a joyous smile on her lips as a new euphoria filled her. The girl she told she loved, loved her back! This was the first person she’s ever truly meant it and knew that’s what she was feeling.

But the elation quickled faded.

Shadowheart let out a yelp, her hand jumping off of Prisma’s cheek to grasp her left hand, a pained expression as she whines, “it hurts!”

It was quick to fade but the smile didn’t return to her face. “Sorry- must’ve gotten too happy.”

An anger flared in Prisma’s chest. This was unfair. This was a happy moment for them, Prisma was not going to let Shar let herself be involved in this moment.

She gently touched Shadowheart’s left hand, taking over on rubbing it over before moving to link their hands together. “You shouldn’t be feeling pain just because Shar wants to punish you.” Prisma says as she gently rubs her thumb across her soft skin.

“It’s okay. I told you, I can live with it.” Always trying to assure everyone she was fine. Not to fuss over her comfort.

“I know,” Prisma whispers, looking down to her hand and rubs her hand across the black spot. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

She raised their linked hands to her lips and began pressing small kisses across the top of her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to kiss it better.” Prisma stopped for a moment to speak. “I know I can’t take away the pain and you prefer we ignore it… but… please let me, I can do this rather than just stand back and watch the woman I love being in pain. No matter how short it happens.”

Shadowheart seemed to be in awe, maybe a bit surprised, but a soft expression was there as she see’s how deeply her lover wants to look out for her. She knew Prisma wanted to help anyone’s comfort, but anytime it was to herself it was still a bit of a surprise. “Well- I won’t stop you.”

Prisma grinned and brought her hand back up to her lips.

[robinaa]

gale 'chanel boots' dekarios

[graveyardcuddles]

Breakfast in Bed

A/N: just a dadstarion drabble. feeding as a love language. mdni.

word count: ~ 3000

tags/warnings: sfw, shameless fluff, soft spawn astarion, baby fic, mentions of reader being pregnant in past tense, breastfeeding, soft blood-drinking (? lol), tav reader, mom reader, soft vampire romance, hints of angst, just lots of sweetness, playing fast and loose with dnd lore about dhampirs and vampires.

You're enjoying a rare deep sleep when a small yet powerful sound jolts you into a state of semi-consciousness with alarming urgency. You can barely register your own body around you, attempting to roll and shift. Suddenly, you feel a familiar cool hand touch your shoulder. "Shhh, it's alright, love. I've got her."

Astarion. He must have sensed your panic at your daughter's cries before he even had the chance to grab her himself. You sigh in relief as he quickly moves to soothe her.

"Gods below, whatever could be making that absolutely hideous sound? Has a little gremishka gotten into our home?" He says with a heavy dose of sarcasm as he pads over to her cot.

Untangling yourself from the bedding, you open your eyes just in time to see Astarion gently lifting your tiny daughter out of her bassinet.

"Darling, waking up your mother so early?" He tuts. "And here I was hoping to make this a peaceful morning."

Despite his mock scolding, his expression betrays the softness of his eyes, wide with adoration. His lips curl upwards in a carefree way that you've never quite seen from him with anyone else. A secret smile that only she can pull from him. She scruches her little legs, and he places a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his hand covering almost her entire back. He coos to her as her cries taper out into little whines. Nestling her close to his chest, Astarion tucks her tiny head under his chin. Rocks her gently while shushing her until she goes quiet.

You watch as her tiny scrunched body relaxes as she calms in his hold. So enchanted you are by the two of them that it takes a moment for you to notice the aroma of food coming from behind you. You turn around and see a small tray on your nightstand with a bowl of porridge, two hard-boiled eggs, toast, and some blackberries.

Once again, you find yourself struck by how much he's changed in the years since the Nautaloid. He never used to cook for you before, and you never resented him for it. You couldn't expect him to be enthusiastic about cooking when he couldn't even taste what he made for you.

All of that changed after the news of your impending little one broke. He had quietly taken to practicing a few basic meals for you. They often lacked the amount of seasoning you normally preferred, but with your overly tender stomach, the bland meals ended up being a blessing on days you could barely keep things down.

As you eat your breakfast, you watch the two of them. Somehow, he's always had a remarkable talent for calming her. Something else you never imagined. You used to tease him about it frequently: "Oh sure, I go through all the hard work only for you to be the favorite, then?" He had simply smirked, barely able to contain his triumphant aura.

He's talking to her now; always talking with her about anything: one tangent will lead to another story and then another. He carries on conversation with her as he would any adult, despite the fact she can't even babble yet.

Even before she was born, he would speak to her in the womb. He knew your heartbeat would be a source of comfort for her when she was born, just as it was for him. She would recognize you from it, know you. He lacked the ability to provide that same comfort but hoped his voice would make up for his lack of heartbeat.

In truth, you were awed every day by how naturally Astarion had taken to caring for her, and how much she in turned seemed to take such comfort from him. You remembered how he refused to believe it at first. How something so small and innocent and precious could possibly come from him, an undead creature. Him, with his red eyes and fangs and cold skin. He had been so afraid of frightening her with his appearance at first. You had reassured him constantly, and he had seen his own likeness in the form of portraits over the years. But he could never be sure you weren't just placating him. Could never be sure those artists weren't simply flattering him.

The first time she opened her little eyes and peered up at him, Astarion let out a sigh of relief that her irises weren't a vampiric red. As her tiny eyes bore into his, he tried to discern what their true color was. You were half-delirious from exhaustion as you watched the two of them become acquainted. Barely thinking, you sleepily suggested to him that perhaps her eye color took after his original shade from before he was turned.

Astarion grew quiet and still for a long moment, something inside of him seemingly triggered by your words. A memory locked away long ago, lost to time. For the second time that same day, his body was hit with deep racking sobs. As he cried quietly into your shoulder, he clung to the little bundle in his arms, a part of himself thought long lost now given back to him.

He brings her to you now, settling down next to you in bed. You cuddle up next to your husband and baby. He's still too enthralled with her to pass her off to you, as he often is. He kisses her little hands and cheek. He smiles radiantly, far past his fears of scaring her. You're more than content to let him hold her as you eat.

She's calmed down now, her soft delicate features smoothed and her big bright eyes looking up at you both. Those captivating eyes are like faceted gemstones, a rare shade even amongst High Elves. Her skintone is similar to yours in color but with an unsettling washed-out, pale undertone that would be alarming on any other child who wasn't a dhampir. Branches of veins show through her semi-translucent skin. Her soft, silky miniature curls were the color of milkglass.

Your little one is deceptively fragile-looking, sickly even. It's easy to forget sometimes how powerful they could potentially be one day. Even at her tender young age of eight weeks, she's a formidable one. Eating and crying with equal fervor. Small and mighty. Just as opinionated as her father.

She wastes no time in letting you know both know she has needs that must be met. Rolling towards Astarion in his arms, she presses her tiny face into his chest. Her little mouth opens up as her face nudges around his shirt, seeking nourishment. You both giggle at her frustrated attempt.

"I think that's my cue, love." You place the tray back on the nightstand and gently take her from him to nestle her in your arms. Pulling down one strap of your nightgown, you begin feeding your babe in a peaceful ritual you had mastered weeks ago with her. Astarion settles in behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder. For a few minutes, he simply watches the two of you. When he takes note of your unfinished breakfast, he grabs a handful of blackberries from the tray and holds out for you to eat at your leisure as you cradle her.

It isn't lost on him, the way in which you were the first person to ever feed him. Truly feed and nourish his body, with the very blood from your own body nonetheless. Never in a million years did he ever think he would one day witness you feeding his child with that same body. An entirely brand new soul, somehow born of your union. Innocent, beautiful and alive. A part of Astarion was alive again, and he could hardly believe it even as he faced each new challenge head-on.

Since she was born, he would sometimes go without feeding for days at a time. Though the elk, deer and boars that populated the nearby woods provided ample prey for him, you knew he hated leaving you two behind even for a few hours of time that it typically took for him to hunt.

He was trying to hide it, but you could tell he was starving now. His face was a little more hollow than usual, eyes a bit more sunken, skin paler and colder. It was truly a testament to how much he adored your daughter that despite his sickly appearance, he still radiated with joy in her presence.

The blackberries run out. You tilt your head to look at him. "You should feed," eyes fixed on his. He blinks at you, obviously surprised at your suggestion. "Just a bit of my blood before you go hunting."

It takes more than a bit of willpower to stifle your giggle at his reaction. Astarion had never been one to hesitate accepting your blood.

"I- Darling, come now. You're sweet to offer, but we shouldn't. Not when you're already expending yourself," his arms snake around your waist, and his cool fingers knead into the softness of your belly comfortingly.

"Ha, trust me, this is nothing compared to feeding you while traveling and fighting for our lives in the wilderness," you assure him.

"Besides," you gesture at the jewelry around your neck. "That's what this is for."

The Amulet of Silvanus, which had already been more than useful to both of you during your time traveling, had come to have many more beneficial properties than you could have imagined at the time. It restored your blood levels, allowing Astarion to feed on you regularly. And even though he had abstained from feeding on your blood while you were with child, it had been found to also be useful in keeping your milk supply up, giving it a second use once your baby had arrived.

"It's alright," you insisted, eyes and voice soft. "I feel strong enough for this again, my love. Truly. And I trust you," your daughter continues to nurse peacefully, blissfully unaware of the conversation between her parents.

"At least let me take the edge off of your hunger, Astarion. I know you won't go too far. Besides," a smile forms on your face, unable to hold back your enthusiasm any longer. "You know I've missed it, too."

He stared at you for a moment before breaking into a smile that made your heart ache so much you swear it could have killed you.

"My love," he kisses you on the forehead, then on your lips, then both of your cheeks and your lips again. It's soft and reverent, gentle and loving.

"Always so good to me." He strokes your hair and kisses you some more before pulling away gently. His maroon eyes broke from your gaze and locked onto your little one.

"Are you sure about this, though?" There was a hint of hesitancy in his voice despite his previous enthusiasm. "I don't want to do anything that would hurt you around her," he whispered, conflict clear on his face. You considered his words carefully.

"Well..." You start with a hint of playfulness. "I don't know if you remember, dear husband, but this?" You gestured at your nursing infant. "Feeding her? It was painful at first. And we don't even know if she'll need blood one day. But if she does, I'll be providing it for you both." He looks guilty already, so before he could respond, you followed up. "But even so," you cup his cheek, gently forcing him to look you in the eye. "No matter what happens, she can't hurt me." His eyebrows raised, and he smirked at you with obvious skepticism.

"When we first found out about her, we vowed we would love her, no matter what. Even if her hunger drove her one day to drain innocent people dry." You gaze down on your little dhampir, your precious 'baby monster,' as she fed. "At the time, I was scared, but now... my love for her is so deep. I know nothing will ever change it. Nothing could ever possibly change it."

You look to him and see his eyes were round with wonder. "You don't have to if you're not comfortable, my heart. But just know you don't have to worry about hurting me. You could never hurt me, my love."

He sighed, looking at you with a sort of incredulous amusement that would normally be followed up with a statement about how nothing you say ever makes sense. Instead, he takes the hand that had been caressing his cheek and kisses it longingly.

"I'll never understand what I've done to deserve you, my dear," his nose runs along your inner wrist, savoring your scent.

"Hmm, besides helping me save the world? Well, making me laugh and being adorable definitely doesn't hurt."

"Our daughter is adorable. I am enigmatic and alluring, NOT adorable," he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Hmm. Sorry love, but I'm afraid all evidence points to the contrary. Our daughter gets her looks from somewhere, and you know who she takes after." Astarion can't hold back his grin he looks down at her and strokes her silvery curls. The semblance between father and daughter was no small point of pride for him.

"Alright, my love. I know better than to argue with the mother of my child." He slips in behind both of you easily, pulling you up so your back is flushed to his chest, allowing yourself to lean back into him.

His arms come up under where both of yours are supporting your babe. He cradles the both of you protectively. "I've got you. I've got you both," he reassures. Your little girl continues to nurse peacefully, both parents holding her tight.

Astarion noses at the base of your neck and inhales deeply. Soft kisses pepper up and down your neck before his lips hold still in place, silently asking permission once more.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder in answer, giving him greater access. Taking a deep breath, you feel the familiar sting of his fangs breaking your skin. He was so gentle, sinking his teeth in fast enough so as not to make the sting linger, but also slow enough so as not to bruise the skin. His fangs work back and forth tenderly, taking great care to keep the bite bleeding while not opening the wound further.

You find yourself easily relaxing. "You're still gentler than she is most of the time," you joke.

His lips attach around the bite wound, gently latched just enough to keep them sealed around it. The flow of blood stayed slow and steady this way, trickling gently from you to him. In your arms, your little one is also feeding eagerly. For a moment, you can't help but giggle at how the sound of Astarion's suckling at your neck joins in with her own precious little eating noises. Her tiny ears wiggle adorably with each drink, and while he refuses to acknowledge it, you can feel Astarion's own ears make miniscule twitches when he feeds on you.

Sighing happily, you sink deeper in his embrace. You had truly missed being able to provide this for him. Time seems to slow down to a hazy crawl as you savor this moment. In the warmth of your bed, surrounded by your little family, you feel as though you could spend an eternity here. You wish you could. It wasn't easy to sacrifice so much. Give so much of yourself over to caring for your babe. But it was moments like this that had made your many sacrifices worth it.

Your undead love at your back and your tiny, half-undead infant in your arms. The feeling of his cool chest and her not-quite-warm-enough little form were somehow the most natural thing in the world. The steady beating of your heart sustaining the both of them. They were both supposed to be impossible, wrong, and profane to everything sacred and divine. And somehow, they were perfect. And you were lucky enough to have them both.

Though you're more than prepared to supplement your daughter's diet with blood the moment the need arises, you feel grateful in this moment that she's still satisfied with your milk. Melancholy borders on the edge of your warm and blissful feelings. Astarion has spoken often of how painful the blood hunger can be for him. You try to keep it to yourself, but guilt squeezes your heart when you think of her with those same hunger pains. Astarion has already sworn he will guide her through them, teach her to hunt on animals when she's strong enough. As you look upon your daughter, you can only hope to yourself that she and Astarion keep each other close, even if you one day leave them behind. There had been talks of ways the two of you could extend your lifespan, and you invested every hour you could spare into researching life-extending magic.

Yet if your endeavors failed or you died prematurely, after some time, perhaps decades, perhaps centuries in the future, you will be the one who leaves first. Astarion will remain unliving and physically unchanging, and while dhampirs were said to be more alive than undead, they were exceptionally long-lived creatures. Sources the two of you researched varied greatly, but all accounts agreed that dhampirs could outlive High Elves by centuries, possibly thousands of years if they renewed themselves with blood. Two ancient souls, undead and half-undead, largely unchanging in an ever changing world. Astarion and her would need each other.

Just as you begin to feel lightheaded, he pulls away, licking and kissing your bite to seal the wound and carefully collecting any stray strands of blood. "Easy," his arms are diligently wrapped around your babe, keeping her supported and snug. "Restore yourself, darling," he encouraged.

You nod sleepily and bring your hand up to touch the amulet. "Te Absolvo," with a soft flash of healing magic, your dizziness was instantly gone, the buzz in your head replaced with Astarion's sweet praises in your ear.

"Thank you, my love," he whispers. He presses a deep kiss into your neck, where your fresh bite mark heals. Your daughter has finished her meal now as well, and you pull your gown back up to tuck her closer to you. She snuggles up on your chest, and you stroke her back softly. She's fast asleep again already, her schedule leaning more and more each into the nocturnal with each passing day. Another early manifestion of her dhampirism.

Nocturnal sleep schedules, blood hunger, spider-climbing, shape-shifting. It didn't matter what new challenges the two of you might face with her. You trusted Astarion would be there for her. He would struggle. He would make mistakes, you know. But he has you both.

As you hum sleepily to your baby girl, Astarion nestles into your neck tenderly. He mumbles unto your skin quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard.

"You have given me everything. Thank you."

[lavender-romancer]

Starving

Astarion x (Durge) Reader

CW: angst, fluff, sexual tones

He needed you. But in his dark pit of starvation he feared he pushed you away past the point of return.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

You didn't seek love in Astarion no matter how much you wanted it. What would affection and adoration do for him when what he really needed was a friend, a confidante. Someone he would never think was using him. After so many years of abuse that violated his very understanding of intimacy and consent, you wouldn't dream of overstepping any boundary in existence. Trying to talk him off a metaphorical ledge of ostracism was more important than physical urges. He didn't need to feel alone or terrified someone would hurt him again. Whilst Astarion could easily protect himself, you decided that when he wasn't hiding in the shadows you would protect him from any enemy he came across.

After saving Faerûn the two of you had decided to live together, much to Astarions confusion, you wanted to stay close to him. Offer up your blood freely to him and create somewhere that felt safe for him. He was still plagued with nightmares, but you began reading deeper into alchemy to try and help him through his trances.

He never understood why you were so supportive of him. 200 years and he never met anyone so genuinely dedicated without expecting much in return. All you asked was that he wouldn't run away if they had an argument and that he wouldn't feed on any other people. It was simple and there was a deep rooted respect between the both of you no matter how much you flirted with one another, there was a boundary. It had never been crossed, he had never been touched without giving his consent, just as Astarion would never touch you or bite you without consent.

Why you had decided to help and live with him after everything that happened was beyond him. Why not Shadowheart? Or maybe Halsin? Even Gale would- Astarion had to stop himself in thought as he remembered how utterly boring he found Gale. He was much better company, even with a very slight fondness for the wizard, Gale was hardly a casual conversationalist. Mostly resorting to threats about hurling a fireball at someone or casually reminding everyone he was a walking bomb. No, Astarion was more fun. Maybe that was why you liked being around him? But he had become so comfortable with you, he found it so easy to talk about his past when the two of you would sit by the fire in your respective arm chairs and read.

Those moments in front of the crackling logs were monumentally special to him, he had no idea how to express his gratitude

You expected so little, asked for much less and respected him. Whenever he would make a mistake or break something he would immediately start profusely apologising, still mentally conditioned to expect a physical punishment regardless of remorse. But all you did was ask for his help to clean up the mess and you both moved on, you were two barely functioning adults but seemed to help one another. You still remembered little from your past, your childhood or anything in between but helping Astarion gave you a purpose that mattered. It was hard to focus on your own shortcomings when you had a whiny (bitchy) vampire to live with and help. But it worked. The two of you were trying to be normal and doubted that you could on your own.

Whilst the two of you had your own demons you were in a pact of some sorts, neither of you wanted to leave the other to deal with those demons alone. Your other companions were constantly confused by whatever your relationship was. Assuming it was romantic and sexual but, being even more confused upon finding out it wasn't. There was always a feeling something would happen between the two of you, but neither you, nor Astarion would admit it. Both of you too scared that you would lose the other forever if anything romantic happened.

“What wine would you like?” You asked, walking into the front room holding two bottles of red. Astarion was sitting in his armchair illuminated by the fire. The orange hue danced around the shadows of his face and it made you want to take him in your arms and never let go.

“Whatever is older, darling. Things do rather improve with age you know.” Astarion replied with a slight smirk and you rolled your eyes.

He couldn't take his eyes off you as you left, the way you leant against the doorway showed the curve of your stomach and hips. Astarion had to snap his brain out of it as he realised he was staring at the curve of your breasts as you turned to leave. Why was he so unbearably horny today? He supposed it was the night that he usually fed on you. Maybe his bloodlust created a different kind of lust all together? He had been admiring you like this for too long now, it couldn't be bloodlust that made his cock twitch and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sparing quick looks as you made a confused face when you were reading and got to a word you struggled with, he loved when you would ask for help so openly and without shame . It was something he desperately envied about your character. Your nose would sometimes scrunch up when he would tell you how to pronounce the word because apparently it was “stupid to have silent letters”. But recently, especially when he had been feeding on you, he couldn't stop wanting to touch you. He wanted to pull you close and never let you go, fuck you for hours and never leave your side.

“I made something for you. Well. Decanted I suppose.” You walked back into the front room with two goblets of wine and a vial of something tucked under your arm.

“What's that?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. After setting the goblets down you handed the vial to him. He already knew what it was before looking more closely, he could smell it. Your beautiful sweet blood.

“For your convenience.” You smiled down at Astarion but he didn't look best pleased. You thought this might be easier, at least for you. Everytime he fed on you all you wanted was to touch him, get some kind of friction because to your shame it made you so ridiculously aroused.

“When did you…” his voice trailed off and your palms began to sweat.

“Do you not like the idea?” You asked sheepishly, ready to snatch the vial back.

“Well, darling, the feeding process is a nice experience and it…” he was trying to find any words to retain the physical closeness you had whilst feeding. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you last time it happened?”

“What makes you ask that?” You sat down in the armchair adjacent to his.

“I…” He felt if he opened up that things would never be the same. So it was easier to close everything off again. “If you would like to change things I can go back to stalking other pretty things in the night.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Sometimes you're impossible. This is more convenient for when I'm not here or when I-”

“When you eventually leave, you mean.” The words crawled out of his mouth with such malice.

“I did not say that, Astarion. Stop acting like a child and communicate!” You yelled back as the heat rose into your face and your eyes began to prick.

“Oh shall I get on my knees and pray to the saint that has allowed me to exist with her blood? There are plenty of places I can get it if you won't offer up your neck for free!” He fired back, getting just as riled up.

“I'm freely giving you my fucking blood! I'm still giving it to you. What difference does it make? I try so hard. So fucking hard to make you feel secure and understood but you react to everything like a child!” You stood up and walked a few paces towards the fire with your back to him.

“I didn't realise I was such an inconvenience in your pretty little head.” Astarion almost laughed, a petty attempt to get a rise out of you when he was quickly running out of options to keep you close to him. You stayed quiet for a moment, one hand on your stomach, the other leaning on the mantle above the fire as if you were bracing yourself for the pain to follow.

“I just want the best for you. For our friendship and I…” your voice broke as you choked down the urge to sob.

“Yes, our precious friendship.” He sounded so vindictive that you wondered if he really cared about you at all.

“Do you not want it? Our friendship?” Your voice was so small and defeated.

“Oh, making me the bastard in this situation is just pathetic. After two hundred years of pure shit where I was always in the wrong and punished for it I don't want to hear it anymore!” He roared back at you. When he stood up you actually flinched, a fleeting thought crossed your mind that this was when he would ignore every warning and just drink you dry.

“I-” You tried to speak but you couldn't. All you wanted was to cry, just let it all out because the emotions were too much for you to carry anymore. The carnal desire you felt for him, the deep and earnest care you felt and the sense of responsibility for his well being. It always seemed that you were in control when really he held all the cards.

“Fucking hells.” Astarion muttered angrily before storming upstairs. You could finally sit back in your chair and cry.

Staring into the flames that usually brought you so much comfort but now, they just made you yearn for a life that was never lived. So long ago he said you were the only person he had ever truly cared about, that he would never hurt you and never leave your side. Those longing looks you'd steal when he'd laugh or the way you played into his flirting from the first day you met him. To this day you remembered nothing before the nautiloid, but, you knew Astarion. You knew he'd be there when you came home and would listen to your anxieties. He had always been in your life as far as you were concerned. So why had everything changed over something so ridiculous as the way you gave him your blood?

You pulled your knees up to your chest and sobbed, he wouldn't be there when you woke up and you knew it was all over. He's gone now, he's running away from your grasp and you'll never get him back no matter what you want from him- the voices in your head told you. You hit your forehead repeatedly trying to get them to shut up but they wouldn't subside. Why did you ever think he loved you? That he needed you for more than a pretty little snack? You wait around hoping he'll take more fucking interest in you when he wants nothing more than your beautiful blood. You should drain him of every drop in his body. It would serve him right, the decimation of a monster.

You wanted to scream. To pull out your brain and scrub out the voices, hurt yourself to a point where you would no longer care about what Astarion did to you. But how could any pain, any anguish overcome the love you felt for him? The Urge. The Urge was clawing it's way out of the depths of your psyche. How could it really be gone when it had penetrated every memory you currently held. You didn't know life without the torturous spasms and depraved thoughts. You thought they might end with the death of your butler but, no. The Urge was ever present.

The fire crackled and lit the shadows of the room, yet you couldn't feel its warmth as you sat cold and alone. He was your warmth, your sun, your stars. Whenever you spoke to him your day would be brighter and your head clearer. Seeing him would make you smile and make you feel safe. You cursed yourself, you should never have been so dependent.

He felt like shit. Utter shit. Why had he exploded like that? What was the point when you didn't do anything wrong, it was your neck he drank from and yet he felt some kind of authority? No, it was not his place nor his decision and he really did feel like the fucking idiot. As he was about to leave his room to apologise he heard it. The noise that haunted him whenever he heard it. Your sobs, that permeated into his soul and made his dead heart ache. He adored you so deeply that whenever it felt like you were pulling away he would double down on harshness. It made him feel in control of the situation because, if he was the first to leave then he won.

Astarion sat down quietly on the stairs. Wanting to wait till your sobs subsided but they seemed full of a sadness that would never subside. All you ever did was help him, try to find a way for him to walk in the sun, sate his bloodthirst and yet… sometimes in his irrational brain it felt like you were trying to find a way to fix him so you could leave. When he was broken you could fix him in a never ending loop. But as soon as he was put back together there was no reason for the two of you to exist together. He would never get to be close to you, never touch you or hear you laugh. But now, due to his own stupidity you would leave anyway but this time with hatred for him.

Just his luck that he would be turned into a monstrous vampire, be threatened with turning into a mindflayer but the true evil was always inside of him. It felt ridiculous when he pondered on it. He was so at home here with you, so comfortable and safe but it was never enough. The evil inside of him would always rise up and ruin everything around him.

He felt like such a fucking bastard to make you cry. Make you feel so lonely that you would feel the need to cry, which you rarely did. Once or twice in the many years you'd known one another he had held you as you cried. Whispered words of support and affirmation as he held you close, it was such a rarity that he reminisced on those moments more than he cared to admit. Being able to be a comfort to you was ridiculously cathartic for him.

For centuries he had been a death sentence to everyone he got close to. Cazadors favourite errand boy, collecting lost pretty souls for him to gorge his ascension depravity on. He would never overcome that guilt, not that he should- it was his cross to bear. But being your comfort, your home… it made it all less soul crushing. When Astarion was with you he felt worthy, like he had a purpose to be your protector when you were really his. He felt safe and respected and if he ruined that then maybe he deserved to step into the sun.

Deciding it would be better if he slipped away quietly he waited for your sobs to subside. Suspecting you were asleep he crept down the stairs and stayed to the back wall, hoping to avoid his shadow being plastered on the wall in front of you.

“Is this it then?” You said quietly and it surprised even Astarion that his hiding skills had become so lax of late.

“What?” Was all he could say, bewildered at why you would care if he would leave.

“Is this it? Are you leaving me?” You slowly stood up and faced him, your eyes still watering.

“I thought it might be easier if I left when I thought you were asleep. It appears my hiding deficiency needs some serious attention.” He tried to smile and make some joke to thinly veil his panic.

“Please. Don't, Astarion.” You took one step closer to him and he wasn't sure if you were referring to him leaving or the poorly timed joke. The silence continued into what felt like hours to him. Having no clue what the right response would be, he could only remain quiet and hope that you wouldn't tell him to leave.

“Do you want to leave?” You asked, looking down at the floor and trying to hide the very clear tears in your eyes.

“I- if it would be best for you then I will.” Astarion was teetering between each foot, one closer to you and the other closer to the door. Maybe if he left now it would all be less painful, he could learn to forget you. But if he stayed, what if you grew to hate him? He couldn't survive it.

“But do you want to leave?” You asked again, surprised by your pleading tone.

“I don't know.” Was all he said and it was enough for you to lose all hope, you wanted to cry until it hurt but it wasn't fair on him. If he wanted to leave then you shouldn't be restricting him.

“If this is the last time I ever see you, I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the best thing for our friendship because I couldn't remain your friend and-” You interrupted yourself, because it wasn't fair to practically guilt trip him.

“In all the time I have known you, you have only made decisions to better others. But, what do you want?” Astarion turned to fully face you, no longer edging towards the door.

All you wanted to say was that you wanted him. You just wanted him, in whatever form that would take it didn't matter as long as he stayed. You could remain friends, though you'd always crave more but, it was better than never seeing him again.

“I want,” you paused, pondering on a response that wouldn't send him running away into the night. “I want you to be happy.” Astarion looked at the floor and smiled.

“My ever generous confidante. That can't be the only thing you desire, the only thing that you want. My happiness is inconsequential compared to your own.” He wanted to reach out, show that you didn't have to worry about him. Prove that he could stand on his own without needing you but he wasn't so sure it was true. The constant insecurities he had were only amplified by the possibility that you would see his shortcomings and push him away.

“Inconsequential? How can you even consider that? I care about you more than myself sometimes and I don't see it as a weakness. We support one another, help one another and what is the point of any of this if I have to pretend that something matters more to me than your happiness? You have no idea how important you are, how loved.” You said it without thinking and the fear was evident in your eyes to Astarion as he had the same look on his own face.

As much as he wanted your adoration, your love? It absolutely terrified him. Was it all just bloodlust? Was he using you as some willing blood bag? If he stopped feeding on you at any point would it all fade away into nothingness and he'd realise none of it was love, it was his insatiable hunger? The silence between the two of you felt cursed, the one to break it would have to be a stronger man than he was because he was too scared to say a word. Rooted in place, not able to flee because of that look in your eyes. He couldn't leave whilst you looked so terrified, he had an urge to take you in his arms. But he didn't, he stayed in place

“Astarion?” You sounded terrified.

“Your life would be so much easier without me.” He sounded so genuinely exasperated, unable to understand why you would want him in your life. His eyes welled up and he looked so beautiful in the light of the fire and, you couldn't help but feel more drawn to him.

“And?” You replied, more determined than ever to prove how you cared for him.

“That's all you have to say?” He asked and you nodded, it elicited a laugh from him that sounded hollow and yet relieved.

“You make my life better. It feels enriched and happy, you are the only person who calms me and comforts me. The only one I am completely comfortable with, the only one I want to be around this much.” you held one of his hands tentatively.

“You’re shaking, darling.” Astarion softly told you, leading you to your armchair and sitting you down.

“If your only reason is that it is better for me, please stay. I want you to stay here with me and we can carry on as we always have and-” he stopped you mid sentence putting a hand up.

“I don't think we can continue as we always have my darling.” He let out a sigh and you dug your nails into the arm of the chair.

“Then…what do we do?” You asked, still feeling like you were shaking and feeling even more pathetic by the minute.

“I mean, I don't know how any of this works, what comes next or what you exactly want from me.” whilst he couldn't reach your gaze he didn't seem upset.

“Well what do you want from me?” Your voice was strained and anxious, you were so completely convinced he would tell you that he wanted space from you.

“More, more than this. I don't… how the hells do you do all of this?” He sounded a mixture of happy and confused.

“Slowly. If that's what you want, it's not exactly that much of a transition from how we were. Less longing glances and more actual contact I suppose? I haven't ever had a companionship. Well, if I have it's before I lost my memory so this is… intimidating.” Your eyes flicked from the floor to Astarions anxiously.

“I don't remember ever having it either. We really are the weirdos of our odd little group aren't we. Even La'zel has probably had a companion. Losing to La'zel when it comes to romance is not something I plan on continuing.” Astarion held your hand tighter, looking up into your eyes.

“I care about you, so much.” You placed a hand on his cheek and he leant into it.

“Stop being so nice to me. Makes me feel like a good person. Ugh.” Astarion mocked disgust but you knew he loved the praise.

“Only leave me if you want to. Will you promise me that?” your thumb stroked across his cheek and you saw a single tear fall across your hand.

“Darling, I will never want to leave you, and the fact that you willingly give me a choice makes it clearer that I want to stay with you.” Astarion pulled your hand up to his face and kissed the back of it before hugging you around your stomach. Leaning his head on your lap. You finally relaxed and stopped shaking, stroking his hair in the firelight, you both existed in perfect happiness.