#dadstarion?

[vemaro]

How did callums and astarions first meeting go? sorry, I’m just a sucker for asty boy with kids

I saw this ask in my inbox and knew I wanted to write it out. Tho I intended to make this a little blurb instead of a long mess lol. In the end, this thing kinda got away from me

Astarion makes some assumptions and you know what they say when you assume things.

…

“Astarion? Is … that really you?”

Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have returned. Maybe he should leave. It’s been almost a year since the wedding and they last saw each other. What if she’s upset? What if she hates him for avoiding her for so long? He was avoiding her, except he doesn’t want to know he’s avoiding her.

Unfortunately for the vampire, all of his other friends have mentioned how much she asks about him. He’s been able to brush it off for months, ignore the urge to see her—and the love he still carried for her— but a foolish flame of hope has reignited in his heart. If Tav’s asking for him, perhaps he still has a chance. It’s a sign from the gods he stopped praying to centuries ago that maybe it’s still a possibility.

So here he is, on her stoop, feeling like an idiot. Too late to back out now.

He puts on a sharp toothed grin and gives her a bow. “In the flesh.”

Her eyes drink in everything, from his impeccably styled hair, to his blood red eyes, the bite marks peeking out from the collar of his shirt, and those laugh lines used to tease him about. He’s usually comfortable in the spotlight, but under her scrutiny, he’s horribly self-conscious. Tav has always been able to see right through him, whether he liked it or not. Except, of course, in the matter of the romantic feelings he harbors. He was never sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

Astarion breaks the silence. “Kobold got your tongue? Or has my sheer beauty left you speechless?”

His words seem to snap the druid from her reverie then she all but jumps on him for a hug. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead!”

He relaxes into the embrace. Gods, he missed being this close to her. “Technically, Tav, I’m already dead.”

She abruptly shoves him away, anger splayed across her face. “That’s not funny. I was worried, Astarion. I sent letters and you never sent any back. I couldn’t tell if the others were telling the truth when they said they’ve seen you, or lying to make me feel better.”

If only she knew the reason behind his lack of appearance. “My deepest apologies. I was busy dealing with a horde of ravenous vampire spawn.”

That seems to mollify her. Tav plants her hands on her hips and waggles a finger at him. “I understand, but if you can’t visit, at least write.”

“Fair enough,“ he concedes. “I’ll try to find time in my schedule.”

Content that she got her point across, Tav smiles and crosses her arms. “Thank you.” Then she steps aside and cocks her head past the entryway. “Come on in. I have something important to tell you.”

The last time she had to tell him something important, she announced her upcoming nuptials. At least not much else can top the heartbreak that wrought.

Unless …

No. No, someone definitely would’ve told him if she’s … His eyes drop to her middle. Absolutely not. He refuses to believe it. Damnit, he never should’ve come to see her. He never should’ve let himself hope.

Her better half walks into the foyer. “Tav, I can’t find my—” He stops when he spots the third wheel. “Oh. We have company.”

Astarion detests the man on principle, but he is Tav’s spouse so he’ll play nice. “Pardon my intrusion, Terrick.” He holds out a hand. “Astarion Ancunin. I’m—”

“One of my wife’s former allies. Yes, I recall our introduction at the wedding.” His eyes flicker to the bite marks on Astarion’s neck. His expression eludes to nothing, whether he was aware of his vampiric condition until now or had previous knowledge. He steps closer to Tav and puts a hand on her waist. “Welcome to our home.”

He retracts the offered hand. “It’s quite lovely,” he says, voice honey drenched. “Which is surprising. During our travels, her tent was always filled with trinkets and mementos from our adventures.”

Terrick arches an eyebrow. “I’m not one for clutter.”

Astarion shrugs. “A little clutter won’t do any harm.” He makes eye contact with Tav. “Each souvenir is associated with a happy memory.” She smiles and it feels like a small victory.

Terrick changes the subject. “I can’t find my blue doublet.”

Tav snickers. “You lost it a month ago.”

He purses his lips, displeased with the answer. “Ah. That slipped my mind.” He walks past them, heading for the steps that lead to the pathway. “Then I need another made.”

“If I could make a suggestion. Figaro’s shop—”

Terrick shakes his head. “Shops in the Lower City are of poor quality.”

Tav clasps her hands behind her back. “Actually, his clothes are very high quality and he offers a hefty discount.” They did save him from a murderous dwarf.

The man’s whole body palpitates. “Do I look like I require a discount?”

“No, but—”

He cuts her off. “We’ll discuss it later.” Astarion’s hand is on the hilt of his knife. He could throw it and have it land right between the eyes in two seconds flat. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up. Goodnight.” He makes sure to lock eyes with the vampire one more time. “Astarion,” he spits.

He has to hold back a sneer. “Terrick.” And he walks off into the night. Astarion glowers as they watch him disappear around the corner. “Charming, he is.”

“I didn't marry him for his personality.” Her tone is dry and flat, almost bored. “He’s gotten a bit moodier since the wedding though. Moreso recently.”

A scary thought comes to mind. There’s no subtle way of asking, so he just asks. “He doesn’t … hurt you, does he?” He waits for the slightest confirmation of abuse. Cazador’s death will look like child’s play by comparison if he has to hunt him down.

She swats the air. “No. Terrick huffs and puffs for show. As long as he funds the repairs and my projects, it’s fine.” But then her face softens. “But thanks for the concern.”

First comes the relief, followed by annoyance. He’s relieved no harm has come to the woman he loves, annoyed he doesn’t have reason to hate the man—more reason. That’s too bad. “Now that your loving husband has left the premises, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

Her eyes light up with manic glee. “Oh yes!” Tav leads him inside, to the closest armchair and sits him down. “Wait here.”

Without another word, she hurries off, leaving behind a curious Astarion. So … perhaps he was worried for nothing. He was jumping to conclusions, coming up with worst case scenarios. Tav’s not going to tell him she’s with child. She doesn’t love Terrick. She’s admitted that on several occasions even before the wedding.

“Close your eyes!”

He does as he’s told. “Ooh, did you slip into something more comfortable?”

She stomps a foot. “If my arms weren’t full, I’d chuck something at you. Are your eyes closed?”

Her arms are full. Does she have a present for him? “Yes, dear.”

He hears her approach. “No peeking.” He holds his hands above his head, twirls them a couple times, and covers his eyes. Not long after that, he feels her presence just ahead of him. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Open your eyes.”

When he opens his eyes, his heart shatters into a million pieces. Swathed in a bundle of blankets, is exactly as he feared; a baby. A shock of blue hair. Topaz eyes. Pointed ears. Freckles sprinkled on the apples of his cheeks and across his button nose. Pale skin, though not nearly as pale as the vampire’s.

Tav bounces and sways in place. “Astarion, I’d like you to meet my son.” The mother is sporting the biggest and brightest grin he’s ever witnessed. “Callum.”

The words echo in his mind. Meet my son. They have a son. Tav and Terrick have a child together. Those two will forever be connected through this child and there is nothing Astarion can do to sever that bond. He’s not so selfish to wish for an unhappy marriage. The innocent soul brought into this world by the woman he loves doesn’t deserve that. He deserves his real father, not a man with fantasies of coveting his mother.

What honestly hurts most is the betrayal from his friends, if he can even call them that at this point. They knew, but elected to say nothing when they fussed at him for keeping away. Worse yet, she also chose not to tell him in any of the letters she sent. He never wrote back, but he read them all.

With the betrayal comes a fierce jealousy. He envies Terrick. Not for the intimacy of creating a child, but the bond a child brings. Astarion never fathomed fatherhood, never entertained the thought, not even after taking down his former master. He’s only just attained his freedom. It’s too soon to settle down, let alone start a family, if that was even possible for a vampire spawn. Now though, seeing the joy her son brings her, he would’ve been willing to try for her. He could picture himself with a child, their child, if that is what she asked of him. What would they look like? Like he used to before transforming into a creature of the night?

The baby voice she’s using is both nauseating and adorable. “Callum, this is one of my very best friends, Astarion,” she coos. “Say hi.”

“He’s …” Terrick’s. And Tav’s. “Beautiful, Tav.”

“Isn’t he?” she gushes. “You’re the first to see him. Gale and Wyll just barely missed it, but left before he came.”

He bows his head. “An honor, truly. And I must say, you look amazing for a woman who recently gave birth.”

She jerks her head back. “I’m sorry, what?”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I mean no offense, my darling.”

Tav opens her mouth, shuts it, opens it again then bursts out laughing. She speaks between peels of laughter. “There has been … a misunderstanding … a huge misunderstanding.”

He frowns. The vampire is missing something, clearly. What is he missing? Is there somehow another child? Does Callum have a twin? “What?”

She reaches over and flicks his forehead. “I didn’t have him. Callum is adopted.”

There’s a prolonged silence of Astarion gawking up at Tav. “Adopted?” he parrots.

“Yes, adopted.” She perches herself on the edge of a table in front of the armchair. “I’m sorry, I thought it was obvious.”

He slaps his hands on the wooden handles. “How was it obvious?”

“Callum looks absolutely nothing like me. Or Terrick.” She lowers her head so her hair falls in the baby’s face. “Notice the difference in hair color.”

What would it take for a giant hole to appear in the ground and swallow him up? “What was I supposed to say when you tell me he’s your son? Oh wow, he doesn’t have your hair, eyes, nose, or complexion. Neither your husband’s. Do you have a mistress?” Astarion. Astarion would like to throw his hat in the ring if the position is open.

That makes her laugh even harder. “No! Oh my gods, Astarion. You thought I hid an entire pregnancy?” He’s too embarrassed to say anything. “You know Karlach can’t keep secrets. Not when they’re not life or death. She’s the reason we found out about Lae’zel and Shadowheart.” She blushes and avert her eyes. “And me and Halsin.”

Many emotions are coursing through him and he’s not sure which to process first. Callum is Tav and Terrick’s child, but not in the same sense he assumed previously. Blood relations are irrelevant. Though. He’s still their child. It must be a druid thing. Jaheira has a house in the Lower City, though he wouldn’t call her mother of the year. Halsin has been taking in some strays as well. What does that mean for Tav? Will she and Terrick continue to adopt more children?

He allows himself a half-hearted guffaw. “I forgot you and the bear rolled around in the leaves.”

Tav shudders. “I have no desire to have a child with Terrick. Even when we—” There’s an implied sleep together Astarion would prefer not to acknowledge. It conjures some images he’d rather not think about. “I don’t want children with him.”

He could drop to his knees, throw up his arms, and shout his praises to the gods right now. “There’s no need. You have the perfect child right here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” She stands back up, beaming. “Would you like to hold him?”

He really should’ve seen this coming, but he didn’t. “Oh, uh, is it safe? Babies are fragile little things. I don’t want to, er, break him.” He sits as far back in the chair as he can, hands tucked underneath his thighs.

She slides over to one side of the chair. “Please?”

“I don’t know, darling.”

“Pretty please?” It’s difficult to turn her down while staring into those wide, trusting eyes. And then there was the baby. Eventually he gives in, holds up his hands with a deadpan expression on his face. Tav smirks. “Fix your arms.”

Ten seconds later, he’s holding an infant for the first time in two centuries of undead life. He peers down at the little boy. He’s probably wondering who the hells is this monster holding me? Astarion has no idea what to say besides an awkward, “Hello.”

One Callum’s hands break from the blankets and finds its way to lightly smack Astarion’s cheek. It doesn’t hurt really, but then he does it a couple more times. When he tries to stop the low level attack, Callum grabs one of his fingers and tugs as hard as his little body can manage.

Oh.

He’s only had Callum for ten seconds, but if anything were to happen to him, he would massacre everyone along the Sword Coast and then himself.

[lazylittledragon]

enrichment for the baby rogue

[cucudoodles]

The way he‘d do this the moment the toddler becomes somewhat cognitively aware

[artsy-iru]

Gasp! A magical bby appeared!

[mutualcombat]

(werner herzog voice) i would like to see the baby

[isda-bata]

Old art but. Astarion and his son Nepheie

[nerdepic]

maes first cantrip 🔮✨

[wellen-katze]

Vampire lullaby - bg3 comic, S.Astarion

I was thinking a lot about if I should upload this but...I guess I stopped caring haha~ I hope you enjoyed

[ghostfire]

I saw this Neil Newbon cameo and my brain made the windows rebooting sound. I've got lots of Baldur's Gate 3 art incoming, but surely this counts as practice too.

I hope Astarion is willing to wait a little while to teach her felonies.

[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."

[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.

[dhampling]

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail.  - astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you. wc: 1.5k a/n: dadstarion fridays! wooooo! hope you enjoy - love, dal x

“Come on. We’ll be late.”

Your hand meets his with a toothy grin.

Astarion teeters a little.

He knows vaguely where the building is - he’s sure he’s passed it on one of his late night jaunts - but you’re coming along too. 

He knows he’s prepared for this moment, down to the most minute detail. 

Weeks spent designing the overcoat now covering his clothes - almost feltish in texture, a deep blue with gentle golden threading. Brass buttons. The smallest red ribbon detailing in the seams. The fit is immaculate, despite the fact he had to take his own measurements. The gloves match beautifully, just as he’d intended.

Shoes polished within an inch of their lives. Shirt and trousers pressed to perfection. Hair neatly coiffed with assistance from your gentle hands.

He grimaces.

“She’s going to think I’m weird.”

“Is this for her, or you?’

He takes a moment. Examines both sides of his glove with a flex. Sniffs pointedly. 

‘She’s not going to think you’re any weirder than she already does. She’s your little freak.” You grab at his sides playfully and he shimmies around your clutches, breaking into a timid laugh. 

The dark skies of Deepwinter are primed to allow Astarion his first ever school pick-up. 

He hasn’t slept, you know that. Bag in hand holding the gift he’d spent the short day hidden away working on. Your matching scarves around your necks. The biting chill beyond the threshold of your hearth.  

Eyes round in a contemplative lax as his hand rests atop the door handle. 

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

Your eyes roll fondly into your skull.

“Yes. Now, get moving.” 

It takes you enclosing your hand in his for the door to open, immediately facing a brutal fracas of ice-cold winds lapping at your face. 

“How in any realm is a child expected to walk home in this? Ridiculous!” He shuffles from foot to foot as he chunters while you lock the door and pocket the key, looking up to the stars.

“With a coat. And gloves. And…’

You point to the bag in his hand as you interlink your arms.

‘A scarf.’

Astarion gives a small smile, pressing a chaste kiss to your head.

‘Come on, now. We might get there in time to see her out the door.”

-

The walk there isn’t the leisurely gander Astarion had dreamt of when he’d thought of this moment. 

In his head it was always late summer. Sunblushed.

And yet as you turn your head to him in your giddy half-canter; cheeks flush and breath clouding the space around your perfect head, he can’t believe he ever imagined it any other way.

The stars overhead are familiar as they always have been. The slightest slippy tread of frost on the cobble. Windows around you lit with candles and the loud taverns you pass en-route seem well hunkered-down.

He finds himself pulling you closer with each corner turned, stumbling to keep with your gait.

And then, there it is.

A huddle of parents waiting out in the cold, hands rubbing together; a low hum of chatter. School gates still closed. When you greet some of them with familiarity - one or two even getting a hug as you make your way to your preferred circle - and introduce him as your husband, his heart swells. 

He didn’t realise you were friends with these people. That these fellow parents could be people to have anything in common with in the first place. Astarion is hardly the enigma he used to be within the city walls and they know of him. They know you’re with him.

But none have ever seen him in the flesh.

There’s a minute where he ponders what they think of him. How you’d described him, how they may have looked at your daughter under the orange gloaming light of Leaffall and wondered which features of hers came first from him as opposed to you. How they’d pieced him together in their minds.

He feels a little out of place as you chatter - hyper aware of each stolen glance in his direction. The whites of new eyes flickering in the darkness. 

It isn’t often he meets new people anymore. Even his client roster is exclusive. 

“Why would I tell you how good-looking he is when he isn’t even here to hear it?”

He tunes back in. They all look, you included.

“Hm?”

“Marta-’ 

A faux accusatory glance on your face as you look over to the human who - Astarion presumes - is Marta. 

‘Asked why I hadn’t told the group just how attractive you are.”

The way the most blinding smile breaks over your ruddied cheeks. He melts behind a scoff.

“Actually darling, Marta has a point. I’m hurt, frankly.”

Gods. They’re all laughing. Your gaggle of school-gate friends and he has them laughing.

“No, it’s just dark. See him by light. Then you’ll change your minds.”

You huddle closer despite the brazen lie and the group laughs away. He throws in a small chuckle for good measure and presses a kiss to your head once more.

They’re all relatively harmless, he decides.

What do school gate friends do? Why have you never invited them over for wine or something? 

“I mean - Astarion, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“They’re showing a rather keen interest to come over one evening for dinner. Inconspicuous, I’m sure.” 

He looks around warily. Can they read his mind? Is someone here a weird school gate mind reader freak? What the fuck?

Your eyes narrow at Marta in jest.

Oh.

If you’re even showing the slightest hint at wanting the doting husband, the doting husband he will give you. Freely and willingly. Far too easily. Naturally.

“Oh! Whatever you want, my love. Anything.”

Astarion takes your head in his hands and brings you close for a warm kiss, eyes softening as he holds you in place. A gentle smile against the harsh wind.  

“What’s in the bag?” Another asks in a jarring fettle. Your head whips round. He answers softly. 

“I- I made the little one a scarf.” 

A coo arises from those huddled around the two of you. 

“He’s a tailor. A good one, too. Really good.” 

You nod with a smile, looking at him. You’re mid-cycle and the idea of your daughter spotting him with those big eyes makes you a bit weak.

A saccharine voice from somewhere in the mix - “He’s immaculate, honey. I’m a little jealous?” 

If he can blush, Astarion feels one coming on. This feels staged. 

“He can’t take his shoes off without kicking them up the wall. Or catch spiders.”

-

As you resume your quiet chatter amongst the group, Astarion catches the door open in the near distance and a soft amber glow pouring from it from the corner of his eye.

It’s a trance. He looks over the heads obscuring his view, the tips of his toes touching the ends of his pristine shoes. 

And there she is.

Absolutely perfect. Small, searching the crowd for the parent she knows will be here.

Then she sees him.

It’s not difficult from afar, even in the dark - she recognises the shock of white hair anywhere - and the look of sheer confusion painted on her face shifts to unfettered joy in seconds.

Gods. She’s running. Tiny legs, bag flailing in her hand. Shouting-

“DADDY!”

As she hurtles towards him, he realises he’s never seen her run like this. She can’t run like this in the house. It’d be enough to make him sad if he weren’t so wholly elated.

He crouches just in time for her to barrel into his open arms.

The way he cups the back of her head is as if he hasn’t seen her in years, spinning her as he stands and holds her at his hip. She’s babbling something wicked and all of it sounds like utter nonsense and he’s so besotted it doesn’t even matter.

His little girl, out in the world. Being a person. 

And it’s him that she chooses to run to. 

“Charming! Hello love!” You shuffle closer and plant a large kiss on the back of her head, taking the bags from her hand and hoisting them up over your back in a routine twirl.

You take Astarion’s hint of a glance toward his bag and roll your eyes fondly, feeling for the scarf and slipping it back into his hand.

“My little darling! Hello! I have something for you - close your eyes.”

He haphazardly wraps the scarf around her neck with one hand as she bristles against his hip, wiggling her shoulders in some impromptu happy dance.

“Look now! You match us!” He exclaims. 

She opens her eyes and squeals with glee you haven’t seen at the school gate before, ever.

And true to his word, the scarf wholly matches both of yours. Embroidered with small golden stars on navy fabric. Her name in some immaculate loopy hand. Far too big for her at present, but warm on this coldest of evenings.

“I love it daddy. I want another one.” She nods acutely and smatters his face in small kisses. 

As you look to Astarion, he raises both brows in amusement at her request. She tucks her head in under his chin.

“Come along now. Let’s get you warm by the fire.”

✦

[lazylittledragon]

this got out of hand really fast

context:

[cucudoodles]

Helping your daughter fall asleep 101

little sequel

[fillviez]

Now, Venezia got double troubles.

(Anyway, She just has a mood swings from her pregnancy. She loves them so much😂)

[kakemakes]

Just a midnight stroll with his little Dhampire nothing to see here It's okay the Cloak is enchanted 🫡