#astarion scenario

[fangswbenefits]

Lockpicking

Summary: You ask Astarion to teach you how to lockpick and things get... out of hand.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Fingering. Dry humping. Innuendo. Praise kink. Finger licking.

Word count: 1.7k

You should have known better than to have asked him this.

Initially, he had regarded your request with an entertained scoff and no less amount of smugness.

But Astarion did find enjoyment in showing off his skills whenever the situation called for it.

And that was what landed you on your knees, inside some dingy cave near Baldur's Gate.

“You do need to focus, darling.”

You repositioned yourself and straightened your back to properly eye-level with the rusty chest in front of you, thieves’ tools in hand, prodding the stubborn lock.

Astarion was down on one knee, right behind you, body pressed faintly against yours.

An unwanted distraction, no doubt.

His cool hands gripped yours as expert fingers twisted and turned the sharp tools inside the opening.

He always made it look so easy, unlocking doors and chests in the blink of an eye.

“Maybe the lock is faulty,” you huffed in annoyance, allowing him to guide your fingers. “Should we try another one?”

“You're too impatient,” he said disapprovingly, his voice but a whisper next to your ear. “The lock isn't faulty, but it requires some tender love and caring to pry it open.”

Your brows furrowed as you took a deep breath, taking the reins and twisting both tools to the right.

His fingers gripped yours in an instant, and he took control once again, but all to no avail.

You let out a low growl of frustration.

“Darling, lockpicking is like making sweet love,” he chuckled briefly, fingertips grazing the back of your hand. “You need to exercise patience and focus.” You could feel his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Just as a lover, you must listen to them and tend to their needs.”

You nearly rolled your eyes. “You did not just make that comparison.”

“You'll find it to be true. Every lock is different and requires not only the right tools but the right amount of dedication.”

An innuendo?

“That is nothing like love-making.”

A metallic click.

“Did I not just describe how I make love to you, then?”

Inadvertently, your heart jolted into a quicker thrum, and heat rushed to your cheeks as his words caught you off guard.

“Must you be so vulgar?”

He rotated the metallic rods in your hands effortlessly, his body pressing further into yours.

“It's simply the truth, darling,” he said with a click of his tongue. “It's not my fault that dexterity comes in handy in various situations.”

This entire ordeal felt strangely intimate all of a sudden, as if you were both dancing to a tune only Astarion was privy to.

The mechanism clicked once more.

“You're doing good.”

Being sincerely praised by him provided the kind of pleasure that you wouldn't easily find anywhere else.

He rubbed the back of your hand tenderly, effectively letting you know you were on the right path.

“Grip it tighter with the tips of your fingers,” he urged before pressing a fleeting kiss just behind your ear. “You must keep a firm grip.”

Shivers spread across your body at the feel of his cold lips caressing your sensitive skin.

You swallowed hard, finding it extremely difficult to concentrate on the task at hand with your lover actively working against you.

Your hands jittered, and you nearly dropped one rod.

“You're awfully distracted.”

The familiar pool of heat in your lower abdomen flared at his taunting words, but you cleared your throat and shoved one of his hands away, wanting to keep your focus and sanity intact.

“I've got this.”

He scoffed. “Have it your way, then.”

You expected a snarky remark and triumphantly smiled to yourself as you were met with his silence instead.

Narrowing your eyes, you kept prodding the opening with renewed focus, following his previous instructions.

You heard a few more clicks, but not the one you were in search of.

And then you felt his free hand grazing the waistband of your trousers, fiddling with the buckle of your belt.

And just like that, your concentration was broken yet again.

“What are you doing?”

Silence.

Experienced fingers pulled on the strap until it was set loose.

Your eyes widened, and the tools in your hands quivered as you came to a halt. “...Astarion?”

He undid the button next and gently tugged on the fabric. “As you said, you've got this,” he whispered dangerously low in your ear. “And I've got you,” he finished before slipping his hand inside.

Your mouth dropped open as his finger trailed past your undergarments and settled between your folds.

Immediately, your hips jerked, and you let out a strained gasp as the throb intensified.

“Focus,” he cooed, rubbing gentle circles. “You're nearly there.”

His other hand steadied your grip around the tool.

“Try rotating it to the left.”

Your hands were getting sweaty and far too jittery, and you nearly dropped the one on your left when he began drawing circles anti-clockwise to match his words.

Words failed you, and you could only gasp, allowing him to take control, using the tool to turn the mechanism.

“Hear that sound?”

You heard a faint metallic pang coming from the opening.

“Focus on the sound coming from the lock,” he said in between kisses on your neck. “Make it sing, and it will open up for you.”

He increased the pace, and you moaned loudlier than intended, eyes fluttering shut as you rolled your hips against him, yearning for more and more friction.

“Hear how beautiful it sounds?”

“Yes…”

At this point, you weren't sure if he was indeed referring to the locking mechanism or to how you kept whimpering under his touch.

He then bucked his hips into you, and you felt the unmistakable print of his strained erection pressed against your lower back.

The motion nearly had you tumbling forward had it not been for his free hand that steadied you.

“Easy now, darling,” he teased, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe you should part your legs. For balance, of course,” he added, but you doubted that was the real motive.

Even so, you quickly shifted your knees apart just enough to grant him further access.

“Good girl.”

You had to bite down hard on your lip to suppress a moan.

One finger circled your entrance, and you felt a gush of wetness spilling from you with each stroke.

Your hands quivered from the stimulation, rattling the metal rods inside the lock.

He brought his hand back to yours, his thumb caressing your unsteady fingers. “You're nearly there… just a little more prodding…”

“Astarion…” you groaned in frustration.

He immediately hushed you. “Careful… we don't want to draw unwanted attention, do we?”

Just as he finished delivering his taunt, he dragged his finger to spread your wetness across the throbbing swell in between your folds.

The overwhelming sensation was too much to bear, and your hand dropped to your thigh, gripping the rod tightly as if holding on for dear life.

He paused his ministrations in an instant.

“You'll need to slide that one inside to unlock it, darling.”

You couldn't care less about the damned chest, as the need for release took over you.

But Astarion seemed to have other plans.

“Slide it in,” he said, gripping your wrists. “Go on… I'll help.”

You slumped lightly against him, enjoying how his cock kept on hardening against you, and how he was beginning to lose his composure, low grunts erupting from the back of his throat.

He lifted your hand, and just as he slid the tool back inside, you felt a finger slip inside your entrance until he was knuckle-deep.

“See how easily it slides in?”

You rolled your hips, wanting to fuck yourself on his finger, riding it desperately.

The increasing pressure in your lower abdomen began to blur your vision as your mouth fell agape, your senses taken over by him.

You were close.

Too close.

Deliciously close.

And he knew it.

Of course he did.

Astarion was a dedicated and devoted lover who didn't shy away from having you come undone for him.

“Nearly there…” he said, rolling his own hips into you.

You kept on riding his finger, the heel of his palm pressing down between your folds, further pushing you over the ends on your sanity.

His free hand still covered yours, his slender fingers fully guiding you, and you couldn't even understand how he was able to keep his focus on the damned lock as you rode him.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, and he seized the moment to tease your exposed skin with his fangs.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard a familiar clicking sound.

“Let go, darling… I've got you.”

His sweet guidance was all you needed from him to finally tip over the edge, plunging headfirst into the blinding wave of pleasure that began tearing through your body like lightning.

He added a second finger just in time, prompting the neediest sobs to erupt from deep within you, and he quickly covered your mouth with his other hand, muffling your cries of pleasure.

“There you go.” He cooed sweetly.

You immediately dropped the tools to the floor with a loud pang and gripped his wrist in the hopes that would be enough to anchor you.

For a split second, you considered biting his hand to suppress the uncontrollable moans but decided against it, enjoying how your voice reverberated across his palm.

And as you began spasming against him, you heard the most delicious hiss spill from him, his strained cock rutting further into your lower back.

You clenched hard and rhythmically around his fingers, riding out your wave of pleasure.

His hand eventually dropped from your face, and he planted the softest kiss to the flushed skin of your cheek.

“Well done, darling.”

You gradually went limp against him, struggling to control your breaths and hearing your heart still pounding hard in your ears.

“Gods… that was…”

The words died in your throat as he slid out of you, earning a whimper from you.

As you regained some of your strength and battled your sore muscles, you turned your head to face him.

“How are you so good with your fingers?"

He chuckled as he tasted your wetness that dripped from his fingers.

“In which way?”

Your gaze was fixed on how his tongue expertly wiped you clean from him.

“Don't play coy. I wish I could be this skilled…"

His crimson eyes narrowed deviously. “I'm sure you'll get there, eventually – well, probably not, though.”

You gave him an offended glare.

He nudged his head to the chest in front of you, and you watched in perplexity as the lid had slightly shifted.

“Not that hard, was it?”

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x mc #astarion scenario #astarion x female oc

[eternal-honeyy]

Clawing Ever Upward A Luminary Oneshot

Astarion Ancunin x fReader!

Synopsis: In Smallest Star; Unknown we learned that Tav and Astarion have spent a few accidental nights together after he's finished feeding, but what exactly does a sleepover between them entail? Well, for Astarion, much more than he initially anticipated.

Or, alternatively: How to give comfort to one who seeks it simply by being, in 700 words or less.

Note: This fic takes place within the Luminary storyline, an Astarion x f!Reader oneshot-based series that you can read here if you'd like some additional context, though this can also be read as a oneshot :)

Luminary Masterlist

Two hands reach outward into the darkness, seeking, scrambling, and grasping for purchase upon something sturdy, something to anchor on to, almost as if they belong to some drowning, floundering body being pulled beneath a heavy current.

The night is quiet, the gentle breeze and the buzzing of bugs the only sounds to be heard, and yet, Astarion's eyes flutter open, his pale eyelashes briefly brushing over his cheeks as he takes in his surroundings, seeking that which may have removed him from his trance even on a peaceful evening such as this one.

The answer to his curiosities comes in the form of a warm hand pressing against his cool chest, and of dull fingernails scraping at his skin weakly before the appendage falls away once more. At this, he sits up on his forearms, upper body rising slightly and pale skin meeting cool air as his gaze darts about his tent.

He looks down to the left of him and finds you lying there, exactly where he had last seen you before he'd slipped into his trance for the evening, that favorite spot of his upon your neck still slightly red from his most recent feeding.

Though, as much as he adores admiring the not so subtle marks made upon your flesh by his fangs, he finds his attention slipping instead to your expression, noting with no small sense of alarm the discomfort that can be found there, your nose scrunched up and your eyes squeezed shut so tightly that there's wrinkles forming around them from your efforts.

He looks around, searching for the cause of your obvious unease, eyes roving endlessly for some unseen light and ears perked for some unheard sound, when suddenly he hears you let out a whimper so pitiful that it has his undead heart lurching within his chest.

His eyes flit back toward you again, and he finds that your expression has only grown all the more tense since he had last seen it, and your hands have started to reach out into the darkness, the tips of your fingers so close to his side that he can feel the disturbed air left in their wake.

Your fearful whines have turned into choked gasps now, and as Astarion watches on, uncertainty coloring his thoughts, he realizes with a start that you must be dreaming, your "waking" hands emulating those found within your slumber as you almost certainly scrambled to find something, anything to hold onto.

He knows this feeling well, or at least thinks so, the desperation of trying to claw ones way forward, upward, against all odds, against all hope, and he feels his chest tighten at the realization that whatever frightens you so might not be so different from what horrifying fates he's suffered.

And Gods, your face is just so twisted up in fear, and the sounds you're making are so very desperate in the absolute worst way, in a way he had never hoped to hear, and before he can think he's reaching out to you, allowing your grasping hands to find purchase upon the cold and solid flesh of his forearm even as your nails dig in and your grip grows impossibly tight.

He allows you to ground yourself beside him over the next few minutes, his eyes never fully leaving your face as he waits for all of the fear that was once so present there to fade, some softened part of him needing to see your ease before he can lay down once more.

And he would never admit it, not to himself and certainly not aloud, but there is a level of comfort he had never anticipated in the feeling of your warm hands resting upon his skin, especially as your grip loosens and your wave of fear passes, leaving him with only the weight of two soft hands to serve as a reminder of what had just occurred.

And oh, what a mighty weight they bear,

What a permanent mark they leave in their wake.

#astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion scenario #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x mc

[weatherbane]

halsin: -mermaid hair flip- everyone else: pathetic bleating

#halsin #bg3 #bg3 art #bg3 fanart #astarion #shadowheart #lae'zel #wyll #i am included in this everyone else scenario #man has no right making me feel the way he does #my ocs #tav: sevinna #weatherdraws

[ssalballoon]

professor dekarios and that weird guy who keeps visiting him during office hours

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #astarion ancunin #my art #bg3 fanart #bloodweave #idk why i keep drawing gale in lapels or in that one specific angle #idea is basically from highrollers... the scenario and astarions fit is all neil newbon

[idlenight]

I feel like Astarion would try to wiggle his way out of cooking duty. Syleth is embarrassingly easy to convince.

#bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 tav #bg3 fanart #astarion #shadowheart #tav #i finally draw again after a month and its a silly little scenario #oh well #idle art #my art #oc tag #oc: Syleth Morte

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion and his s/o getting into a sass competition where Astarion ends up confessing to her by accident and now he's all flustered?

Astarion x Reader

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m not exactly as well versed into taking these off as I am in putting them on, darling.” Astarion quipped at you as he fiddled with the lock on your cuffs.

Being somewhat of an anti-hero liaisons these days, the group had been pinched on some trumped up but completely true & legal charges of petty theft and larceny. Your options were fight, flight, or get arrested when confronted by the guards and charges. And since you couldn’t fight a whole city’s worth of Iron Fists, and running also seemed unplausible as you’d have to come back to the city sometime, you decided to take you lumps and went to jail. Luckily, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or in this case: a vampire with a lockpick up his sleeve.

“Why did you wait to do me last anyway? Just to see me suffer?”

“Well,” Astarion cooed, “it does have a certain visual appeal.”

You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Could you just hurry up? I’m starting to lose the feeling in my hands. All the blood is rushing out of them.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, if you want my blood again, you should be more sympathetic to my pain.” You told him. Sighing heavily as one arm was free and Astarion moved on to the other one.

“Don’t you threaten me. Besides, if you won’t give me what I want, I’ll just move on to some other lucky companion in our camp.”

“Ha! Like anyone else would have you.”

Astarion frowned. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who would welcome my teeth at their necks. Hundreds. Thousands!”

“Yeah. One blood obsessed drow and…who was the other one you tricked again?” You pulled at the shackles, which jiggled the irons and knocked the lockpick free, but unbroken. The vampire growled at you.

“I tricked you easy enough, didn’t I?”

“Only because I took pity on you.”

“Pity?!”

“Yeah.” You told him. “That poor, sad, puppy dog ‘please feed me’ look was just something I couldn’t say no to.”

Astarion growled again. “That is not how it happened. Besides, if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t keep asking for more.”

“Oh sure. Blame the victim.”

“You are not a victim!” He snapped at you. He seemed a little wounded by that one. Maybe you went a little too far. “Gods.” He cursed under his breath with a frown. “You are lucky I love you so much, otherwise I would just leave you here, chained up, and never bite you again. No matter how much you begged me.”

The lock finally snapped open and your arm fell to the side. You lifted it to rub your wrist but were uncharacteristically silent.

“Would it have been too much to expect a thank you??”

“Did you just say you love me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. A little wide eyed at your question. He seemed to be racking his brain for a moment. Trying to remember the conversation before an ‘Oh. Shit.’ expression came over his face. “What? Oh, that. Figure of speech darling, of course.” He let out a single nervous cough after that and a rushed, “let’s go meet up with the other.” Before he turned on his heels and made a speedy exit.

You rub your wrist one more time as a soft, shy smile came to your lips behind his back. You follow after him and meet up with the others. Waiting just outside the prison for the two of you, as apparently just around the corner was enough of an escape from the mighty Iron Fist.

“Ah! I just love this fresh air.” You exclaim, followed by more comments on how dusty & dank your cell had been, but really just watching Astarion’s shoulders tense.

You spent the rest of the day subversively tormenting Astarion. Making comments on how much you loved the weather, or loved a dress in a window. How much you loved dinner that night. How much you loved getting a good night’s rest that night.

By the time everyone had gone off to their respective tents for the evening, Astarion had apparently had enough and slunk up to yours. “I know what you’re doing. Now stop it!” He hissed.

“But I thought you’d love it.”

“Stop it!” He hissed again. If he could right now, he would blush. You were tempted to let him feed on you for a moment to get the full effect. “I mean it! How would you like it if I threw every verbal misstep in your face? I don’t keep bringing up the time you said Ibis instead of Ignis, now do I??”

It was pretty funny when that bird showed up.

“So, are you upset that you said it and I’m teasing of you, or are you upset that you didn’t mean it and I keep bringing it up?” You honestly didn’t know which answer would be worse at this point. You felt bad you had wounded his pride to the point that he came to talk to you. But you also don’t think you could take it if he told you that he didn’t love you.

Astarion just stood there for a moment, thinking, before he sighed and waved you off. “Just…knock it off ok. I’ve had quite enough today. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to walk away and just before he fell out of ear shot you called to him. “Hey Astarion,” he looked back over his shoulder at you, “I love that you could come and talk to me about this.”

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth struggling to keep down. “Oh shut up.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate scenarios #bg3 imagine #bg3 scenarios

[momochanners]

Yes, YES; This one gets it.

#bg3 #halsin #the bear thing is haha and all #but the scene/mood/dialogue is straight outta the pages of a racy romance novel #and for people that love this it's gratifying and touching that it's a scenario that's crafted with much care and seriousness #as opposed to being something to be ashamed of #as if emotions and intimacy don't belong in a narrative experience especially one so personal like idk A ROLEPLAYING GAME #to me THAT'S why this is a big thing for a flagship CRPG to go all in on #optional bear necessities aside #And we don't even know yet how the other companions' will be like #Gale & Astarion's will personally attack me I guess #Fed I am thoroughly fed

[moyashidoodles]

Box whump!!!! I’ve posted so much fluffy dumb shit recently it’s been a while since I’ve done anything less silly. So here you goooooooo. An AU where Wyll is a pirate or sailor and is hired to escort Cazador on a trip but he brought a BOX. Oohhhh I wonder what’s insideeeeee. Thank you Wyllstarion discord, I appreciate you all <3 I got the scenario from a discussion there. I’m no writer, I just make pretty pictures.

Almost done with the last commission on my list, I’ll open up some emoji spots soon.

#whump scenario #my art #art #sketches #doodles #fanart #bg3 #illustration #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #bg3 fanart #bloodpact #wyllstarion

[seventh-district]

Midnight Hour

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks.

You awake in the middle of the night to find your lover in tears.

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Word Count: 3,139

Content Warnings: [crying (obviously)] [non-specific mentions of Astarion's past trauma] [this fic was written by someone who hasn't actually played the game and that might show in the details/the lack thereof]

Blinking your tired eyes open, you squint at the light of the crackling fire in front of you. Closing them again, you let out a soft sigh as you try to guess at the current time. Given that you woke on your own, you’re assuming it’s likely close to, but not quite, time for you to take over tonight’s watch shift.

Your group has fallen into a routine where you pair off into teams of two, and a different team keeps watch each night. Tonight’s turn belongs to you and Astarion, and he’s taken the first half of the shift as usual. You usually, ironically, sleep your best on the nights that he keeps watch, in spite of only getting half the amount of sleep as you do on the nights another team has the job.

You suppose you can credit the fact that, at the end of the day, Astarion is a creature of the night. Something about knowing he has the upper hand when it comes to any unwanted nighttime visitors your group may encounter is… reassuring. To you, as well as to the others in the group, loathe as some of them may be to admit it. That is, once they all felt confident in his promises to not make a surprise midnight snack of them, at least.

Tonight is a bit of an exception, though, and you’re not quite sure what woke you early this time. You typically sleep soundly until he gently coaxes you awake, nails combing through your hair, voice soft and apologetic in your ear. He’s always somewhat reluctant to wake you, but he does so nonetheless, having learned his lesson after the first time he made the executive decision to let you sleep the whole night through. His arguments of “You really looked like you could use the rest.” and “What’s one sleepless night? I can sleep when I’m dead.” didn’t hold much water in the face of the way he dragged ass through the entire next day.

In “the spirit of fairness” and “proving that he can stick to an agreement,” he never tried to take the whole shift by himself again. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with how guilty he felt when he heard the disappointment in your tone when you awoke that first morning and discovered he hadn’t stuck to the plan. Definitely.

Laying there in the quiet, you try and fail to pinpoint what feels different about tonight. You don’t hear any strange noises, nothing feels unusual, and blinking your eyes open again you raise your head a bit to look around the fire. The rest of the group are circled around the other sides of the heat source, sleeping soundly. You figure that you’re probably just getting used to this routine by now, and your body simply woke up around your usual shift change time on its own.

Still, that doesn’t explain the vague, unplaceable feeling that something is just… off.

You let out a sigh that turns into a yawn as you stretch and roll away from the fire onto your back. Letting your head roll further to the left, your eyes land on the familiar sight of your lover’s back as he sits in his usual position beside you, diligently watching your six.

He’s taken to placing his bedroll right next to yours, insisting that you lie between the fire and himself. You couldn’t really argue with his point that he can’t feel the cold anyways, so there’s no need for him to be the one next to the fire. Nor could you argue with the benefits of having him as a line of defense between you and whatever lurks beyond the reach of the firelight.

The feeling of security and protection that he provides you with is still relatively foreign to you, and a soft smile blooms on your face at the warm feeling it brings. Your smile then falls a bit as you remember the silent question you ask yourself on the regular, of whether or not you provide him with the same.

You roll the rest of the way to your left, and shuffle further toward him, closing what remains of the small gap he’d placed between the two of you. Lying halfway on your bedroll and halfway on his, you curl your body around his seated form, bringing your right arm up and gently placing a hand on the right side of his waist. He flinches slightly, and if this were earlier on in your relationship, you’d retract your hand. He’s long since informed you though that his reaction to unexpected touch is simply involuntary, and as long as it’s you, you’ve no need to pull away.

You recall the quiet, restrained desperation in his voice when he first explained it to you, all but begging you not to pull away. He can’t control the way his body reacts to touch, given that before you, he couldn’t recall the last time being touched meant anything other than pain. In spite of that though, he wants it. He wants you. That’s obvious in the way that he, without fail, immediately relaxes under your gentle touch once his mind and body process that it’s coming from you. The way he’s come to not only relax, but to lean into it. Lean into you.

You’d never push past his boundaries, never in a million years, but he’s made it quite clear after about a thousand of your quiet requests for consent at every minor touch, that he’s entirely welcoming of your non-sexual physical affections. Getting the man to verbally admit that he actually enjoys cuddling with you, without the truth being concealed beneath a heavy layer of playful banter and practiced, honeyed words didn’t come easy, but he came around to it in his own time.

So, you don’t pull back, instead following through with the motion and slowly snaking your arm around his waist. You press your front against his lower back and curl around to rest your left cheek atop his left thigh. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t relax into you in the way he usually does, and your head turns to the right a bit, struggling to get a half-decent look at his face as you’re both turned away from the fire light.

He remains tense, still, and unresponsive to your movements, gaze seemingly locked dead ahead of him, staring out into the dark forest.

With the warm haze of sleep fading from you, your brow furrows as your right hand presses lightly against his lower abdomen, your thumb sweeping up and down in a small attempt at a comforting motion. You quietly call for his attention, voice still thick with sleep.

“Star? Is everything okay?”

His typically silent breath suddenly hitches, and his head angles down to face you. Now that he’s turned toward the light, you catch the way his eyes shine, and the way the light reflects off of what you quickly realize are tear tracks, running down his cheeks. He’s actively crying, tears dripping from his chin, and now with his head tilted down at you they take a different path, running down to converge and fall from the tip of his nose.

You nearly bolt upright in your shock, quickly unwrapping yourself from him and clambering around on all fours until you’re sat down in front of him, your hands gripping tightly to your upper thighs in worry. His wide-eyed gaze followed your every movement, and even now that you’re sat still in front of him, his eyes still dart around, frantically scanning you, for what, you don’t know.

“What- what’s going on?”

You keep your voice as quiet as you reasonably can in spite of your shock and concern, not eager to wake your companions and have everyone witness… whatever this is.

He doesn’t respond, looking just about as lost as you feel, shaking his head in silence as more tears fall. It’s one hell of a sight, and it suddenly hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

Unsure of what to do and what even caused this, you resist the urge to wrap him in a hug, not wanting to overstep in this unfamiliar territory. Instead, you glance back over your shoulder and once again see and hear nothing of note before trying another question.

“Is there a threat? Did you see something that scared you, honey?”

He takes a long moment to answer, seeming unsure, before eventually settling on another shake of his head. His lack of confidence in his answer isn’t the most reassuring thing at the moment, but given that you aren’t detecting any danger either, you decide to believe that he really didn’t see any threat. At least, not here. Not right now, in the present moment, in front of him. He seems about halfway here and halfway gone, and if your growing suspicions are correct, he’s probably been sat here lost in the dark corners of his mind for a while now, given the state he’s in.

You catch movement to Astarion’s right side and watch as Karlach raises up from her prior position sprawled out face-down on her bedroll, propping herself up with her forearms beneath her. Her expression of concern is too aware and her eyes are too awake for her to have just now woken up, and you quickly gather that she’s probably been awake and laying there long enough to have heard your questions and Astarion’s lack of any verbal response. She doesn’t say anything though, and doesn’t move, just letting the situation unfold and keeping a watchful eye on the darkness behind you.

Relaxing slightly at the knowledge that someone else is awake and helping to keep watch now, your focus shifts back to Astarion, who’s gaze has moved to his lap, tears still falling fast. It’s almost unsettling, the way he cries. There’s no sound, no movement, his breathing is hardly even affected, nothing more than the occasional shaky breath to give away any sign of struggle at all. You don’t have to guess why it’s like this, given what he’s told you about his past. You’re sadly certain that he learned to cry like this ages ago. Silent and still, sat alone in the dark so no one would notice.

You don’t want to think about the sorts of punishments he’s endured as a result of showing such pain and emotion, but your mind pulls from what experiences he’s shared and offers up a few anyways, making you begin to feel sick.

Leaning down and trying to catch his gaze, you ask another question.

“Astarion, are you with me right now?”

He blinks, more tears spill, and his lips finally part as he responds to you with a strained whisper.

“I’m trying to be…”

You smile in spite of your current emotions and the general mood of the situation, doing your best to be something positive, something gentle, something safe for him to focus on.

“There you are…”

You say it to yourself as much as to him, relieved to finally hear his voice, as laced with pain as it sounds. You hold out your hand near where his lie balled into fists in his lap, offering him contact without forcing it on him.

“I want you to keep trying, okay? Do your best to come back into the present with me. You can take my hand, if you’d like?”

He stares down at your offered hand for a long moment before shakily unballing one of his fists. He hesitates, fingers trembling, before reaching out and placing his hand in yours. His skin is even colder than usual and slightly damp to the touch, and you couldn’t be less put off, or give less of a fuck about the messy state of him right now, or ever, if you’re being honest. You just want to help him, however you can.

You curl your warm fingers around his palm, wanting to pull him into a hug so badly but restraining yourself, letting him call the shots.

“You’re okay now, Star. You’re safe right now, here with me. We’re safe.”

He’s quiet for another long moment as he shuts his eyes tight, taking in your words. His other fist unfurls, and his body trembles almost imperceptibly.

“I… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Your heart breaks.

“Honey, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all, I promise you.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, his voice an insistent whisper.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Your shoulders drop from where they’d been tensely held up, body slumping with a silent sigh as you watch him still try to hold this wall up between the two of you. You’d made it past a number of his walls already, but this one… this one you’ve yet to be granted access behind.

“It’s okay to cry, you know?”

Another shake of his head, this time with far more force behind it, almost vehement.

“No.”

You soften your voice, insisting.

“Yes. It is. You can cry now, Astarion. No one’s gonna hurt you. No one’s gonna judge you. I swear on my life, that’s the truth.”

His breaths become more labored, uneven and shaking.

“You aren’t his anymore. The old rules don’t apply. You can let it out, now. No one, and I mean no one, is going to punish you for it.”

His eyes pinch closed and his head shakes hard side to side, like he’s fighting his own mind, and his hand opens and closes like it wants to grab onto something. He then moves, wrapping his free hand around your arm and suddenly you’re being pulled toward him, desperately, insistently.

You follow the motion as he continues to tug at you, first leaning forward and propping yourself up with your other hand on the ground as he continues to pull you closer. You quickly gather what he wants as he lets go of your hand in favor of latching onto your other arm, pulling you upward, choking back tears all the while.

You raise up on your knees and his hands move once again to hook beneath your arms as you allow yourself to be pulled up onto his lap with physical strength you keep forgetting he possesses. Hooking your legs around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him into you. His arms wrap tightly around your waist and he buries his face into the fabric of your shirt at the collar, muffling the soft sound of his crying which has now turned to full-blown sobs.

He’s still shockingly quiet in spite of it all, and you imagine it’s a mixture of being unable to let go of what’s ingrained into him, and not wanting to alert the entire camp to his current breakdown.

Your thumbs stroke up and down in place on his back, not wanting to let go of your hold on him but still wanting to give him some sort of comforting motion to focus on. Besides, you figure petting across the entire expanse of his scarred back might do the opposite of calming him down, so you refrain and keep your arms wrapped firmly around him. Turning your head down toward his, you whisper to him in between soft kisses to his temple.

“That’s it, love. Let it out.”

“You’re safe now, Astarion, I swear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“You have every right to cry. No one ever should’ve taken that away from you.”

He grips you even tighter as you shower him with painfully unfamiliar affection and acceptance, comfort unlike anything he’s ever felt before in his horribly long life. His forehead presses against your right shoulder as his crying slows, trying to ground himself and catch his breath. You make a point of holding him securely against you, breathing slow and deep to give him an example to follow.

You catch movement in your periphery and glance over at Karlach as she quietly sits up and makes a series of silent lip movements and hand gestures that you don’t entirely grasp. You work them out to mean that she’s gonna take over watch for the rest of the night, and you can rest with Astarion. You send her a grateful look and mouth a “thank you,” to which she waves you off with what you think you read as a silent “don’t mention it” on her lips.

After a short while spent focused on slowing down his breath and bringing him fully out of his memories and back here with you, you whisper quiet words in his ear.

“Your work is done, Astarion. You can rest now.”

You mean it in both possible interpretations of the words, and he seems to understand that, his body finally relaxing against yours for the first time tonight.

“You wanna lie down with me, love?”

He seems like he almost nods, but stops himself, whispering back in an exhausted voice, scratchy and thick from crying.

“Someone has to keep watch.”

You hesitate to inform him that Karlach has already taken over that role for tonight, sure that he’d get no sleep at all if he knew she’d witnessed this. You know you’re gonna be awake watching over him for the rest of the night anyways, so instead, you offer a compromise.

“I can hold you and keep watch at the same time, love. Just… let me sit and you can lay against me.”

He gives the suggestion a moment of thought before nodding his head, reluctantly loosening his hold on you. You maneuver the both of you carefully so as to avoid allowing his tired eyes to catch sight of your obviously awake companion sitting behind him.

It isn’t much of a task considering his eyes are halfway closed already, his only remaining focus locked on you. You settle down at the head of his bedroll, guiding him to lie down and bringing his head to rest in the center of your lap.

Your hands take turns gently combing fingers through his white curls, and you feel his tense shoulders begin to relax at the feeling. You bring a thumb down and gently stroke over the lines creasing his brow, quietly encouraging him to release the tension he likely doesn’t realize he’s holding. You watch him pull in a deep, albeit still slightly unsteady breath, and you can practically feel the relief that washes over him when he exhales.

Words aren’t necessary between the two of you at this point, not in this moment, but you offer him a few anyways, hoping they’ll resonate in his tired mind as he slips into sleep.

“You’re safe here, Star. Rest easy.”

A/N: Like I said in the CWs, I haven't played the game for myself (yet!) so I only know what I've seen in the hours of (mostly Astarion-focused) scenes I've watched on YT. As a result, this might have read a bit funny if I've gotten certain details wrong. For instance- I have no idea how resting at the camp actually goes, whether or not someone keeps watch all night, etc. Also I'm not sure if Astarion even needs to actually sleep or if he meditates/falls into a trance and just calls it sleep, but for the sake of simplicity, (and me being clueless,) when I say he falls into sleep just assume he's doing whatever he'd normally do to rest. On a different note- this little fic was inspired by a combination of two things. The lovely art and additional commentary on this post, by @velnna , and also by me listening to Midnight Hour by Sierra Eagleson on loop for like, an hour, and daydreaming up this specific scene before proceeding to write it out. It is a beautiful song that is now the title and theme-song for this fic, and I encourage you to go give it a listen if you haven't heard it already. Header Image Source: x

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #my writing #man. this may be the quickest turnover/turnaround whateverthewordis on a fic that i've ever made happen #i usually sit on an idea and then a draft for ages before posting smthn. so given that it's only been a couple days #between the initial idea and the finished posted fic. wow. groundbreaking speeds for me #the power of hyperfixation (and love) #y'know. i've noticed a trend #why is it that nearly every time i write for a new character the first scenario i place them in involves crying #and having Reader hold/comfort them #i did it with Eddie i did it with Venti i'm doing it with Astarion. who's next. who's next in the Reverse Comfort lineup huh #idk why that's my go-to scenario it just is. maybe i do have a type. (characters that need to have a good cry in their beloved's arms) #or maybe perhaps it is i that needs the good cry and i am projecting. who knows. 'tis a mystery (it's both) #anyways i know this fic is a bit short but i just. had one little specific scene i wanted to write and that's it! #i do plan on making more for him though. i've already got another idea brewing in my brain #also sorry if 'honey' and 'love' aren't your go-to pet names. or if you wouldn't call him Star #my own style of speech heavily influences what i have Reader say in my fics and i can't help itttttt. everything i write is self-insert lma #*lmao (i’m on mobile rn i’m not retyping all of that just to add the last letter) #(yes i’m posting this from mobile cause i took a nap and overslept and missed the time i wanted to post this at. so now i am In A Rush #smthn smthn self imposed deadlines smthn smthn ‘i know the guy that made the rules and he’s a total pushover’ anyways it’s fine. post draft

[yandere-sins]

Favorite

You are Astarion's favorite blood sacrifice. He decides to reward you for it.

Characters: Yandere!Ascended!Astarion x GN!Reader Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Warnings: Yandere, Vampires, Reader nearly dies, Blood being mentioned in all manners, Biting, Death mention, Minor sexual hints, Desperation, Possessiveness, Obsessiveness, Minor violent acts (not directed at reader except biting)

a/n: I don't have a big Halloween story for you guys, but I've been trying to get back into writing more and I've been working on this story the last couple of days, so I hope you enjoy it ♥ (I mean it's vampires so that's almost Halloween-themed right???)

Darkness is a vampire's best friend. 

It shields them, hides them, benefits them—all without expecting something in return. It's nature's way of making up for all the pain and suffering it put its less loved children of the night through, and they welcome it, moonlight glistening on their skin, their perception so much sharper without the fear of sunlight's burn. 

Like eager partners in crime, a vampire's gifts are amplified by what the darkness provides. They stalk in the shadowy coat of the night; see the prey that wants to stay unseen. Their voices, mellow and honeyed, sound even sweeter, whispered in the ears of those who wander into the vampire's hunting grounds as the creatures lure their prey with promises of grandeur. Fame, money, lust. It seems to be all that their food desires. What more could someone want who's unaware of being tricked? And so they follow wherever the masters of night command them. 

Deeper and deeper into the darkness.

"Hello, darling."

You came to hate it—all of it. The darkness, the night.

The whispers and touches, promises and the hunt. You knew he had many more like you, living blood banks stored in cold, dark cells. You heard them scream every night when the bell rang twelve, the darkest hour of the day. Sometimes, you recognized the cries as the ones from days before, but you never knew when would be the last time you'd hear the poor souls lost in the darkness. New ones came and went, but you were the only one that remained after every night. 

Somewhere between three and four months, you lost count of the days spent here. You tried to remember how many times you'd been visited, but one miscount, and now you didn't know if it had been one or ten years. You would have expected to get mad in the darkness, alone and aching from your shoulders to your ankles, with no place on your body unbitten. But Astarion was punctual—perhaps the only good quality about him. That was the only thing to keep you grounded down here.

He didn't miss a single day of feeding or, as he called it, spending time with you. 

Alongside your meal, he showed up at exactly midnight every night, someone always there to close the door behind him without fail. You had never seen his face, but you had felt it plenty of times beneath your fingertips, enough to know he was one of those handsome bloodsuckers who kidnapped and locked you here. At least for now, as long as you were pretty enough in his eyes as well. Eyes that you felt creeping over your body the moment the only door to the outside opened, only more darkness waiting behind it. They mustered you, devoured you perhaps, an appetizer before the main course. 

You knew nothing of your nightly visitor besides his punctuality and his name. There was no face to associate it with, just the feeling of his cold skin and the sharp pain of his fangs in your memory. And yet, something told you he was special even among his kind. Somewhat… superior. He still had the capability to be gentle if he wanted, never causing you to cry out in agony like the other sacrificial lambs did. And more importantly, after all this time, you were sure he was the one keeping you alive.

"Astarion," you greeted him, simply, calmly. Hiding the shiver in your voice despite the room growing colder ever since he stepped inside. It was hard to say if you were still afraid of death when it was a constant threat like a noose hanging above your head. Perhaps you dreaded surviving more than dying if you thought about it, your heart growing heavier with fear and loneliness every day. But at the same time, you grew more and more desensitized to the screams and pain and more used to the darkness.

Hugging your body with one arm, you used the other to walk along the wall to your chair, the wood creaking as you sat down, scooting it closer to the table. He liked it when you did what he wanted without him having to ask you to. Astarion's steps were non-existent, but you needn't wait for or invite him to join you. You could always count on his chest pressing against your back the moment you sat down as he leaned over you from behind. It was a familiar yet suppressive feeling. A reminder of your position. 

You were below him, prey to be consumed. Yet, he treated you more like a pet, almost beloved, but at best, you were well-cared for. You doubted he could feel anything towards you that wasn't belittling. You'd not thrive in the darkness on your own, but Astarion knew how to keep you alive. A waft of roasted chicken drifted into your nose, hearty and mouth-watering, and you had no doubts it would be accompanied by sides that would nourish the dire lack of vitamins you had. He had always insisted on you finishing your plate, feeding you himself if he had to. It couldn't go that you'd not eat what he graciously provided. But this was the only meal you were given every day, and the loss of blood made you too hungry to strike.

You tried once. For almost a week, you starved yourself until you could not do it anymore. Continuing not to eat when you were starving and food was served in masses to you cost too much willpower that you didn't have. Likewise, eating the food with the condition that you had to sit on his lap and thank him for every measly pea he fed you one after the other was enough humiliation to never try that again. And Astarion had been happy since with your plate wiped clean.

"You smell delightfully today," he mused as he drew back from the table. You felt his lips brush over your bare shoulder, your breath hitching when he pressed them to the nape of your neck. You'd not put it past him to eat before you, even though he seemed satisfied waiting for you to finish most of the time.

"Garbor gave me new soap today. Roses, I think," you breathed, reaching forward to the cutlery that, no doubt, laid beside the plate Astarion brought. It just appeared, almost magically. But you were pretty sure it was there all along, Garbor, the guard, probably cleaning and switching it out while you were asleep. You didn't even know if his name was Garbor; you merely decided to call him that. After all, no one would speak to you here aside from Astarion, even if you knew they existed in the shadows. 

"Sure, if that's what you want to believe," Astarion chuckled, his comment profoundly unsettling as you knew what he meant when he said you smelled nice. Your blood. To him, you must have smelled as mouth-wateringly as your meal did to you. You had always empathized with animals, wishing for them to live their lives as best as possible, even if they were destined to be slaughtered. Ironic, now that you were cattle to a vampire, likely being fed according to Astarion's tastes. 

"Next time, I think I'd like something citrusy again. The last soap was divine."

His hands driving up your arms made you nervous. They were unfettered by your movements as you aimlessly tried to pierce meat and vegetables onto your fork, your eyes never adjusting to the complete darkness of the basement cellar. You weren't a vampire, after all. Despite the time spent down here, the broken fear and authority between you two, he could still make you nervous. And you talked when you were anxious, to the point you wanted to bite your own tongue off.

A mix of a chuckle and a scoff escaped him as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, his nails resting softly against your throat while his thumbs ran up and down the sides of your spine in feathery touches. Slowly, reassuring you of his presence. And the ability to snap your neck with this formidable cut-throat necklace. He readjusted his touch a few times until his pointer fingers pressed against your pulse on one side, your gullet on the other. Enough for you to eat and breathe, but you didn't dare to move your head. 

"I shall tell… Garbor, to fetch that for you. Anything else? Another pillow? A new shirt? Would my darling fancy some earrings? We just so happen to have someone donate a wonderful pair of rubies that would look so beautifully dangling from your ears."

A shudder went through you; the word 'donate' was not one to take kindly. People donated to charities and beggars. Not to someone who could put meat on a plate every day for you and obviously had no saintly bone in his body. Gulping down the chicken that got stuck on your tongue as you listened to the sultry voice of your captor, you put down the fork for a moment to think, clearing your throat as best as you could with his hands still pretending to be a necklace. 

"A candle maybe, and a book. I feel like now's a great time to pick up a new hobby."

You heard the grin spread on Astarion's lips as he chuckled, his thumbs curling inwards until you felt his nails press against your skin. "I do so very like those entertaining ideas of yours, sweetling. But alas, I'm afraid I cannot give you that. You'd end up preferring the book over my company!"

"How could I ever, Sir? I wasn't planning on going on a paper diet."

This time, he actually burst out into laughter, hands disappearing into the darkness as you presumed he held his stomach from the ache of amusement. You wasted no time to stuff two more bites into your mouth as long as you had the freedom that was oh-so short-lived. His hands banging on the table in front of you created an explosive sound in the small confinement you called home. Compared to the cold body pressed against you, his breath skimmed your ear warmly, his voice like honey dripping right into your ear. 

"That's why you're my favorite. Those little witty comments of yours have saved you so many times, you know?"

The food you were so eager to sneak into your mouth now threatened to fall out of it as you couldn't find the strength to swallow. Some instinctual part of you waited for him to attack, exploit your vulnerable self. It readied you, muscles tense, body paying attention to everything it could perceive (which was shamefully little with your senses so inferior to the vampire). But then there was the rational part of your brain, currently occupied with the warmth of his breath gracing your ear and cheek, and his words. 

Favorite. You were his favorite.

You forced yourself to finish chewing, slowly, embarrassingly aware of Astarion waiting for another 'witty' remark from his favorite. Favorite late-night amusement? Favorite person to take care of? Favorite blood bag? You felt his eyes drilling into your jaw expectantly as you chewed your food properly before you leaned forward to reach for the cup of water that was unmistakably always on the table. Perhaps because of the darkness, you were so very aware of your hair brushing his nose and the deep inhale it caused Astarion to take before he pressed his face into it, gripping a bunch of it with one hand and forcing you to halt. 

"You're my undoing, pet."

"Really?" you said in your most convincing, surprised voice, trying your hardest to sound as fake as possible. Revealing his thoughts to you might have given you a chance to bargain with him, even though this cell and the darkness had long become much safer than anything he could offer. In reality, you knew better than to trust the words of a vampire, yet found yourself truly surprised about the reverence they were spoken with. "It's hard to imagine I could do such a thing. I'm just sitting here."

Astarion hummed, amused, satisfied with your remark once again. Another chance at life, how you noted duly. Perhaps he liked the challenge of you playing his game, neither of you ever speaking the whole truth and coating your words in sarcasm and fake friendliness. Or maybe vampires were accompanied by madness that made them prefer prey who didn't cave as easily into a begging, sobbing mess. Prey like you.

 "It's been years—no, decades since I last took a liking in someone, and you have no idea how much I longed for companionship like yours. It's exciting and a bit of a tease. I couldn't bring myself to kill you yet."

"How very gracious of you," you praised, hoping he didn't pay close attention to your face, a grimace edging into your features.

"You know, I might even be convinced to return you to the light. If you ask, nicely."

And suddenly, there it was. You gulped as you felt your stomach twist anxiously, suddenly attacked by something you had long abandoned. Hope. A glimmer of it, at least. You remembered the days when you had still banged at the door, demanding and reasoning with anyone who'd hear you to release and let you go home. The early nights when you dreamed about the sun and the warmth of being surrounded by people. And now the time had finally come to reclaim those wishes, almost bringing you down to your knees. 

You knew you couldn't be so foolish as to retort to being a boring, begging nobody. You had to be his favorite. Crawling over the dirty floor and clinging to him for dear life wasn't going to cut it, no matter how much you wanted to. Because yes! Yes to the surface, yes to leaving all of this behind. Escaping him would be much easier when you weren't locked in the darkness. You had waited so long for the sweet embrace of death and endured so much pain when you were forced to survive pitifully like this. You even became his favorite. And now it was paying off—if you played your cards right.

"Ah… I don't know," you sighed. You could hear your own voice, thin and nervous. Excited. Your mouth was dry, but your heart was banging against your rips. Undoubtedly, he knew that, but you hoped Astarion would forgive your very appropriate reaction. Maybe even fancy it.

Every flinch of your muscles and every word carefully uttered was driven by a hope that Astarion could easily crush if he disapproved. You never saw yourself as exceptionally talented with words, but if that was what he wanted, he should have it. Your mom would scold you for being a brat, but this vampire here favored your attitude enough to keep you alive, so it had to be good for something. "I was just starting to get comfortable here. It's so… cozy."

"Well, I have it cozy up there as well. Cushioned chairs and silk sheets—only the best for my best."

It was strange to hear his voice in the same tone as his usual banter, even though you could detect another tone swinging in the background. It was but an insignificant waver, one of uncertainty and doubt. Desperation. Maybe not as much as you, but he wanted you to agree, his reasons unclear. And yet, your heart setting out a beat must have given away that you recognized his wish since he added, "You were always a marvel. But imagine how good you'd look by my side up there. My consort. My favorite."

"W-Well, are the beds soft?" you pressed out quickly, trying to avoid the sensual allure of his voice being murmured into your ear. You didn't mean to stutter, biting your own tongue before deciding to calm yourself with deep, quiet breaths that you hoped he didn't notice. But you knew that everything he said went straight to the unreasonable part of your mind, the one a vampire knew to manipulate so well. But in your desire to get out of here, eagerness and giving in too easily could cost you everything. 

"Very," he mused, and you were relieved to hear him still in good spirits, his next words almost a lilt. "Soft and warm. Like you."

"And the food?" you asked, gulping. You didn't care for the beds or the food. 

"Oh, the food!" 

His exclamation caught you by surprise, as did the sudden disappearance of his body. For a moment, you thought you had ruined your chance. Had gone too far with your hesitance. But next you knew, you felt his hand fall to your shoulder again, running down your arm until he had your wrist in his palm, lifting it to his face. Astarion planted one kiss below your thumb, then moved on to kissing the pulse beneath it. 

"It's delightful! Delectable! The best you ever had. And me for dessert. You won't lack anything,  I promise."

His promise meant very little to you, and yet, as he littered your wrist with kisses, you couldn't help but cave. It was everything about this situation, the hope, the reverent kisses, the empty promises, that blinded you from the danger. You hadn't questioned his intentions or the price you'd have to pay. Not when he spoke to you as if he was laying the world at your feet, promising you the moon, the stars, and everything beyond.

"Ask me, pet, and you can have it all. The luxuries, the world, me. All you have to do is ask, darling."

There they were, the simple, honeyed words every human wanted to hear. All feeding into your own desperation so perfectly as if they were made just for you. As if you were the only suffering fool in this world, and perhaps to Astarion, you were. The grin curling his lips upwards against your wrist revealed just how much of a fool he took you for when you opened your mouth again.

"I…" you hesitated. But not long enough. You had too much to lose, despite not knowing what you were going to lose agreeing to this. "I want to go to the surface."

"Do you now?" he smirked, and you felt the hard edge of his teeth as his lips parted in a wide grin. 

"I want to, Sir. I want to be your favorite. I want to be by your side. Please take me with you."

For a moment, there was silence, then Astarion let out a hum of satisfaction followed by a deep breath.

"Oh, you are, darling. You are my favorite. I've longed for this moment for so long, yearned for it every damned day and night, and finally, it's here. Let's be together forever, alright? It'll hurt only a little, and then we'll always be together."

"What will hurt?" you asked before you felt the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into your arm. You knew this pain, the searing burn of his fangs piercing your skin. You had felt it a hundred times, no, a thousand. But this one was short-lived, blood dripping from your hand as you bit your lip, holding back the tears. No one liked tears, and you were too close to your goal to ruin it now. 

"Endure it," he purred, and it was almost a shame that he noticed, considering how much you fought yourself to keep your composure. "You'll have to bare this beautiful neck of yours if you want to be mine, darling."

There was another moment of hesitation, the taut skin of your neck always hurting the most if he bit it. But why even did he have to bite you? What good were two more bites of you in this dark cell when he could assume you'd be at his beck and call upstairs as well? Astarion couldn't know of your feeble escape plans yet, so he had no reason to doubt your devotion. And even if he did, wouldn't he enjoy feeding from you in one of the more comfortable beds he mentioned?

But pondering was of no use to you. You had to comply if you wanted your dreams to come true. Turning towards him and laying your head to the side, you could feel your hair fall out of the way, baring your neck so beautifully. "Yes, Sir," was your short, meager reply, and yet your arm immediately fell to your side, one of Astarion's hands wrapping around the back of your head while the other weighed down on your shoulder, keeping you in place. 

 "That's a good pet," he mumbled, face inching closer to your body with every spoken word. You braced yourself for the pain, the burning, the mess it would make, and you took it like a champ, which you probably were after all those bites—at first. However, all the bites before eventually ended. They never lasted more than a few minutes at worst. But not this one, and that's when you realized your mistake. 

You gasped as you reached for him, grabbing his clothes like a lifeline to hold onto. Tears fell freely as the pain didn't stop, your body growing lighter while Astarion had little problems keeping you in place. "It hurts!" you sobbed as your thoughts became less reasonable, less controlled. Everything began to swim, and though you were sitting, you felt like you were going to fall. But even as you struggled to stay conscious, Astarion didn't stop, didn't care. 

By the time you realized you were going to die, it was already much too late. Your life was drained out of you with all of your blood. At least you didn't have to feel the pain of your crushed hope or the desperation of, once again, being stuck in this cold and lonely darkness. If you were honest, you looked forward to escaping all of this, as had been your destiny for so long. At least this way, you'd be free, too. Differently than you thought, but free nonetheless.

"Mhm, darling. Even now, you're ravishingly beautiful."

You could hear the voice, but your body had no blood left to supply your brain, so it could understand anything. You didn't even feel his uncharacteristically warm fingers smear a thick fluid to your lips, slipping in to coat your tongue, reflexes working even when you were as good as dead. 

"And you're mine. All mine."

At least you wouldn't have to die in this dark cell, though you had no strength left to think about what shithole you'd be thrown into instead. Your body was but a sack of skin and bones in his arms as he carried you outside, your head empty like your blood vessels. But even as you lay dying in Astarion's arms, getting carried away, you knew one thing for sure: You hated it. The pain and the blood. The cold and this evil man that had held you like a cattle for so long only to kill you just like everyone else in the end. You hated him. You hated everything.

And most, you hated the darkness that continued to surround you, enveloping you mercilessly as it cooperated with your murderer. Unaware that you, too, were meant to succumb to it. That your dying body was changing into that of a child of the night, a spawn to the very same lonely vampire you so willingly promised eternity to in exchange for what you believed had been your path to 'freedom'. The same freedom you'd never have now.

Because you were his favorite.

And he'd never let his favorite spawn leave.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #yandere astarion #yandere!astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #yandere bg3 #yandere!bg3 #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[lunian]

when a wizard failed to protect his dear man?? do you get it

do you-

#OUGH #at least ive got a bit dramatic scenario for my little silly brain #actually didnt have a good time in this fight asdfdfd #bloodweave #gale origin #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #bg3 screenshots #mystuff

[fangswbenefits]

Pointy Ears

Summary: You accidentally find just how sensitive Astarion is when it comes to a certain part of his body…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Sub-ish Astarion. Ear sensitivity. Blood drinking. Fangs. Astarion being a whimpering mess. He's also a big shooter (idk if there is a more accurate terminology in fanfiction haha). Handjob. Cumplay. Praise kink. Edging (if you squint). Nipple play.

Word count: 1.8k

You could feel Astarion was nearly done, as your fingers raked across his scalp and through unruly curls, the warmth of your blood spreading gradually across his skin.

He was comfortably nestled between your legs, occasionally bucking his hips into you as his cock hardened with each passing second.

Even as your vision began to blur, the pleasure vastly overcame the impending sense of dread. After all, he could easily send you over the edge between life and death if he lacked the restraint to stop himself.

Your other hand caressed the lukewarm skin of his arm and traveled up to his neck, where you could feel his throat shift rhythmically under your touch as he downed mouthfuls of your blood.

“Astarion…” you whimpered faintly, as life slipped from you dangerously fast.

He grunted once but didn't budge.

Bringing your hand to his face, you felt a growing wave of panic take over.

He had never gone too far.

But dizziness and chilling shivers quickly enveloped your body, rendering you nearly helpless.

“Astarion…”

He rolled his hips into you but kept his mouth firmly latched onto your neck, his concentration never wavering.

With eyes pressed shut, your fingers reached up until they faintly brushed past the tip of his ear.

And then he instantly froze.

As if stung by some unseen entity, he quickly pulled back from you, wide-eyed and lips stained with blood.

“What's wrong?”

He reached out for the scroll of Lesser Restoration on the bedside table and placed it in your hand before rolling off of you and onto his back.

You uttered quick words and watched as the piece of paper dissolved into thin air, quickly feeling your life force being restored as warmth and vigour sprawled along your body once again.

“Astarion?”

He had his eyes closed shut, and you watched as his hand hurriedly made its way to unlace the front of his trousers, alleviating the constricted erection.

Had you done something wrong?

He didn't seem troubled or uncomfortable, and merely let out a sigh of pure relief as he freed his cock.

“Do that again. Please.”

You arched an eyebrow as you rolled on your side, utterly confused. “Do… what?”

“My ear… touch it…”

Oh?

Your eyes landed on his flushed, pointy ear, and you proceeded to give the sharp edge a tentative caress with the pad of your thumb.

His lips parted with a soft gasp and he arched his back ever so slightly.

This was new.

Your gaze shifted to his lower half, noticing how his hardened cock twitched as you brushed the warm skin of his ear.

Seeing his cock fully hardened and with this faint blush to it thanks to your own blood coursing through his body, never failed to send the most delicious jolts of pleasure between your legs, effectively igniting a gentle throb.

“Does that feel good?” You cooed, staring back at his face again as he let out a few whimpers.

“Ridiculously good.”

That was all the incentive you needed, bringing your forefinger to his ear and giving it a soft squeeze between your thumb.

“Gods…”

This time, he rolled his hips, and you could only stare in complete awe as the first beads of precum began to drip from the tip.

You involuntarily licked your lips and lowered your head to rest on his unmoving bare chest.

He felt cozily warm from having fed on you and couldn't help but to reach down with your other hand, tracing a finger along a single bulging and thick vein that spread along his cock.

Your feather-like touches kept drawing out the most beautiful whimpers and gasps from him.

His mouth watering cock was always so responsive to your touch, that you found yourself grinding your hips instinctively against him.

A needy moan parted your lips slightly at the mesmerising sight of a single string of precum bridging the flushed tip of his cock to his lower abdomen, and beginning to pool on his skin as a few droplets threatened to spill down.

Once again, you ran your finger along the protruding underside of his length, too entranced with how it twitched so eagerly for you.

Unsurprisingly, Astarion reached down with one hand, wanting to wrap his fingers around his length, but you intercepted him halfway through.

“Allow me, lover.” You whispered sweetly, lifting your head to take a look at him.

As expected, he looked positively ethereal; his face tinted with the faintest blush and his half-hooded crimson eyes set on you.

“You don't have to.”

You shifted higher, letting go of his hand, which he dropped to his side, and you leaned in until your lips brushed against the pointy edge of his ear.

“Do you want me to?”

He chuckled lowly. “If I want you to pleasure me? What a silly question, darling.”

You smiled at his bluntness before darting out your tongue to join your fingers.

Another guttural groan escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut once again.

Leaning back, you positioned yourself to sit next to him, wanting to keep your focus on both his cock and ear.

His eyes flew open, and he began to prop himself on one elbow and hand reaching out for your trousers, clearly trying to be the one setting the pace.

But you shoved him back with a chuckle. “Just lay back and allow me to take care of you.”

He arched an elegant brow at you.

He was too used to being the one taking the lead. It was instinctive for him to have control over each other's pleasure.

But you wanted him to lose himself in the moment, not having to concern himself with anything but his own bliss.

“Pretty,” you said truthfully as his eyelids nearly dropped when you brushed a finger along his tip. “So pretty…”

He immediately whimpered, lust-blown eyes never leaving yours. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Gods…

Astarion was truly a natural at leaving you speechless with his words.

You kept the gentle and unwavering caresses along his sensitive ear.

As you shifted your gaze, you noticed the pool of precum on his lower abdomen already overflowing, droplets rolling down his skin.

Instinctively, you swiped two fingers to collect some of it, and began spreading them along his cock, earning a hiss of approval.

“You delectable little vixen.” He groaned out with a few rolls of his hips.

The swell between your legs throbbed viciously from his praise, and it had you wrapping your fingers around him.

His own wetness aided you in your initial strokes, feeling the bulging veins under your touch caving in momentarily before filling up with your blood once more.

You could get used to having Astarion like this for eternity.

Just too lost in genuine pleasure and lust.

Trusting you to guide him to unheard of heights and fully letting go.

The pace was set.

The perfect balance between steadiness and tightness, and more than enough to have him jerk his hips upwards as he fucked your hand.

You reckoned he wouldn't last long given how his whimpers intensified each time you applied the slightest pressure to the shell of his ear.

Suddenly, he moved one hand to your chest, and you gave him a disapproving pout, not wanting him to take over.

But…

“Let me see them…”

His words came out laced with desire and whimpers, eyes set on your eyes as the hint of a plea made you gasp.

You kept the pace on his cock as his experienced fingers tugged at the lacing of your shirt. He worked his way down agonisingly slow, chills spreading throughout your body as more and more of your skin was exposed to his gaze.

He halted once he found what he was looking for.

With a soft tug, he moved the fabric out of the way, your swaying breasts in full view.

A violent jolt of pleasure nearly has you halt at once, too taken aback by the eroticism of all of it.

“Keep going, darling…” he urged, honey dripping from his words. “You can grip it tighter, can't you?”

Gods above…

He then brushed his thumb across a hardened nipple and your mouth fell open in a strained gasp.

Your breasts moved in unison with the pace on his cock, lewd sounds echoing around the room.

You had to bite down hard on your lip to muffle the moan stuck in your throat.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted disapprovingly, his thumb releasing the trapped lip and moving to press down on your chin to pry your mouth open. “Let me hear those sweet moans.”

It annoyed you how he was so quick to reverse the roles and how easily you fell for his traps.

But you weren't ready to let him win just yet.

"Maybe you shouldn't make such demands when I have you in the palm of my hand - quite literally."

The glaring pun made him scowl.

You offered a devious smile instead.

Then, you increased the pressure on his ear, and the effect nearly had you chuckle viciously at the sight of him immediately crumbling down, back pressed flat against the mattress again.

“Gods!”

The whine of frustration mixed with a moan let you know you were victorious in having him right where you wanted.

His hips snapped more aggressively into you as you squeezed him even tighter.

He was so close.

There was something so incredibly hypnotic about having this man coming undone for you.

Because of you.

You couldn't think of a more effective ego-booster.

So by the time he reached his peak, you could only glare in utmost wonder as you felt his cock twitch violently under your palm as the first spurts of cum shot out, reaching as far as his chest - one even reaching his neck.

Your mouth fell open.

He had balled his fists, gripping the bedsheets so fiercely as he rode out the untameable wave of pleasure. His head was thrown back as he arched and shuddered, profanities spilling from his pretty lips.

And the sound of fabric tearing echoed in the room.

Oh.

You aided his cock as best you could, squeezing the final drops of cum, mesmerised by the amount of thick liquid that now covered him.

Still driven by your own unrequited pleasure, you leaned to swipe your tongue across his nipple, collecting as much as you could.

His hand moved to the back of your head, silently urging you.

It only took a couple of swipes to gather enough cum to pool on your tongue.

Astarion's half-hooded eyes met yours. “Does it taste good?”

With the most sultry look you could conjure, you swung your leg over his torso, effectively straddling him as your mouth hovered over his.

“You tell me.”

He furrowed his brows inquisitively.

And you promptly took his lips in yours, which he eagerly parted. You seized the opportunity to push your tongue against his, allowing the liquid to drip down.

He groaned as he tasted himself on you, deepening the searing kiss, both hands on your hips, grounding you.

Yes.

You could definitely get used to this.

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x mc #astarion scenario

[eternal-honeyy]

Smallest Star; Unknown A Luminary Oneshot

Astarion Ancunin x f!Reader

Synopsis: In his dreams one evening, Astarion meets the most familiar stranger he has ever seen, and learns both of lives not yet lived and of history not yet buried.

Or, alternatively: All of the ways that resemblance can be uncanny, and that forgotten details can be remembered in 3,500 words or less.

Note: Hi there, welcome to my first ever Astarion fic! If you like this one, feel free to check out the others that take place in the Luminary storyline, all of which can be found here <3

Luminary Masterlist

Astarion had experienced many dreams (although, less than half as many as he had sleepless nights), but even so, he'd never experienced one quite like this.

He sits alone in a dark room lit only by candle light and oil lamps, his deft fingers tugging at dainty golden thread and sharpened needle until suddenly, he stops, as if having snapped himself out of a daze.

In a way, he supposes that he has, red eyes flitting from corner to corner of the room that he sits in, seeking out some form of familiarity that he soon finds either does not exist or does not wish to be found.

Noting no immediate threat nor a reason to fear for his safety, the elf looks down to his hands, where he finds that he has been sewing a name into the inside of a small dress, one with embroidery that rather closely resembles that of the shirt he had been wearing the day he'd met you.

Plunging the needle absentmindedly into the felt armrest of the chair he was sitting upon as if it were a pincushion, he reached down to feel the design with his pale fingertips, surprised to note that the stitch pattern was the very same.

Had he made this?

A brow rose as he pondered this question within his mind, and quickly, he moved his gaze up to where his currently uncut thread was still protruding.

'Ottilie A'

It read, the golden wisp of embroidery floss hanging off of the end of the A, which looked to be just a stitch away from finished.

Astarion looked down at this name for a while, a dull yet painful yearning building within his chest the longer he did so.

Questions flooded his mind the more that this feeling tugged at his heart, and soon his thoughts were abuzz with curiosities that gnawed at him almost as ceaselessly as the ache below his breast.

What was this place?

Why was he here?

And most importantly,

Who was Ottilie?

He wondered,

Did this dress belong to her? And if so, why then, did it seem as if he had made it? Why then, was he sitting alone in a dark room sewing her name into it for her?

These questions prattled on and on within the confines of his mind, until finally, the sound of a doorknob rattling loosely upon its hinges snapped him out of his reverie, and he watched with surprised and sharpened eyes as the ornate metal fixed upon the wood that had granted him privacy up until this very moment shifted slowly, moving back and forth as if the person on the other side had very little practice with using a device even as common and mundane as a doorknob.

Still, in spite of their seeming lack of practice, the person on the other end was clearly nothing if not persistent, because the rattling continued on and on until finally, the knob was turned just enough so that the hinge popped loose of its confines, and in came stumbling a little girl, her hand grasping the door for dear life as it swung inward with her in tow, clearly having forgotten to let go prior to placing all of her weight upon the wood to push it open.

Astarion blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he watched the little girl fall forward to her knees with a shriek, the door she still clung to hitting the wall rather noisily before it finally came to a stop, trapped between the child and the very same wall it had just abused so thoroughly.

The elf winced at the sight in spite of himself, his legs itching to move closer and his hands twitching at his sides as if some deep seeded and long buried part of him knew exactly what to do and struggled with being unable to do it.

Still, he remained rooted to the very spot he had "awoken" in, eyes trained on the little girl sitting several feet in front of him as she let out a quiet "oof!" just after impact, her small hands scrambling for better purchase upon the door before they seemed to give up on the subtly swinging object and instead moved to the far sturdier floor, where they helped her to push herself back up onto her (rather unsteady, at least where Astarion was concerned) feet.

She huffed for a moment, tugging at her dress to straighten out some of the now crumpled fabric, and as she did so, Astarion took a moment to look her over, curious eyes seeking any semblance of familiarity or hint that might tell him who this child was.

She was small, clearly no older than three or four at most, with pale and unruly curls that tumbled down to her shoulders and in front of her eyes no matter how many times she did her best to tuck them behind her pointy little ears.

'An elf'

He thought to himself, scarcely even making note of the fact that his hands had begun their work once more, adding one final stitch to the end of the A before they completed their work with a subtle knot to keep everything from unraveling. Then, as he had done one thousand times before, Astarion raised the extra embroidery floss to his mouth thoughtlessly before using a singular fang to cut it off with ease.

With that done, he slung his work across the arm of the chair and placed the remainder of his thread upon the floor beside the spool he had spotted there earlier.

Still, even as he did all of this, not once did he look away from the child standing in front of him, brows furrowed with confusion and curiosity alike until finally, she seemed satisfied with the status of her dress and turned to face him fully, a gleeful smile so contagious that it made his lips twitch resting upon her cheeks.

"Mama told me you would be all finished with my new dress after I woke up from my nap today."

She said cheerfully, her small bare feet padding on the wooden floor beneath her as she moved closer, clearly eager to see the dress that was now slung across the arm rest beside him.

Astarion, not quite knowing what to say, simply nodded, glancing toward the seemingly finished dress for a moment before the girl managed to capture his attention again as she moved ever closer, seemingly unperturbed by his appearance in the manner he would have expected her to be.

It had been two centuries of looking the way that he did, and one thing that the pale elf understood well was that his appearance deeply unsettled those who were not used to seeing creatures like vampires, and children in particular rather commonly cowered on the off occasion that they had seen him in the evenings, scouring the streets for his next victim.

'And they had every right to be afraid,'

He thought to himself, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips,

'Their untainted souls still knew monster from man.'

But even so, the girl continued her unbothered approach without a care in the world, until finally, she reached the very spot where the vampire's shoes met the floor, her hands finding his knees.

Astarion watched on, awestruck, and entirely unsure of what he was meant to do, as this little girl who he had only first seen moments ago scrambled into his lap, or rather, tried to, her little arms shaking with use as her face screwed up with effort.

It was then, as if spurned on by that same deep seeded and long buried part of him that he had felt before, that the elf reached forward, his hands finding the underside of her arms and his fingers folding gently against the fabric of the dress that she wore so he could lift her up with ease, thus allowing him to place the child upon her desired destination without nearly as much effort on her part.

Even still, the little girl huffed up at him in response to his kindness, her lips pinching into a pout that looked so incredibly familiar that it nearly dizzied the vampire in question, who felt his eyes widen in spite of himself.

He had seen that pout so very often as of late, and yet he could not quite place it, causing the gears within his mind to turn like mad in an effort to reach some sort of conclusion, to provide him with any sensible answer.

Still, even after a few rather long seconds of silent thought, nothing came, and Astarion was forced to give up as the child sitting upon his lap spoke once more.

"You promised you would stop helping me! I'm a big girl now!"

She shouted indignantly, crossing her small arms across her chest with yet another huff, which only served to amuse the man who was acting as audience.

Whoever this child was, she certainly had attitude.

'Oh, I like her.'

He thought with an internal chuckle, though he tried to hide his outward grin to the best of his ability in order to keep his surprise visitor from becoming even further angered by his actions.

"Apologies,"

Astarion spoke smoothly, his hands clasping together almost instinctively behind the small girl to ensure he would catch her if she happened to fall backwards,

"It just looked like you were in need of some... additional support. It was thoughtless of me to act without asking you first."

Upon his apology, the child seemed to calm slightly, though that pout remained even as the subject shifted.

Astarion watched as she reached into the pocket of her dress, which he could see now that she was closer also had markings of his stitching upon it, and pulled out a small wooden hairpin.

She held it out to him in a small yet steady palm, eyes almost entirely hidden behind those pale curls of hers as she spoke up once more,

"Fine, but can you put this back in for me? It came out while I was sleeping and Mama's been too busy to cut my hair."

Astarion chuckled under his breath as he took the clip from her hand and used it to expertly pin the hairs that framed her face to the back of her head with ease, his dexterous hands having long since grown accustomed to the act of pinning his own unruly curls back when he'd been forced to let them grow out for far too long.

He hummed softly as he used his fingers to brush her hair back gently, noting with surprise the similarities that it shared with his own.

"Your hair isn't much different from mine, you know."

He muttered thoughtlessly,

"I bet that I could give you a rather nice haircut if the situation called for it."

Much to his surprise, in response to his words the child sitting upon his lap giggled, the sound briefly causing his heart to swell and his lips to turn upward until her words distracted him from any previous reaction.

"You know that Mama won't let you, not after last time, and especially not before my first day of school."

She said cheerfully, her words cutting through any feigned sense of ease Astarion had managed prior.

Swallowing thickly, he quickly finished pinning her hair in place, speaking up just as he was beginning to pull away and shift his gaze back down toward her face.

"Last ti-"

He froze in the middle of his sentence, eyes widening and hands beginning to shake as he saw the eyes of the child sitting before him up close for the very first time.

And Gods, they were so familiar,

So achingly, painfully, and distantly familiar that it made tears build in the corners of his own eyes, that color a reminder of something, no, of someone, long forgotten but so dearly beloved, of hands so gentle that they hurt to imagine now, and of a voice so endlessly sweet and caring that it made him want to sob out of a loss long unmourned, loss that he had never had the chance to understand nor perceive for fear of losing what little sanity had remained during the harsh beginnings of his time with Cazador.

A loss he was meant to have had centuries before he had to face.

And as he sat there, awestruck by the heart wrenching combination of familiarity, grief, and yearning, the little girl, oblivious to Astarion's reaction to the color of her eyes, reached for the dress slung over the arm rest of the chair they sat upon.

And though he did not think to do so in any meaningful or coherent manner, the elf reached over to stop her, picking up the garment and placing it into her hands to ensure that she could not prick herself upon the needle that remained hidden underneath.

The movement was purely one of instinct, and if someone had asked him of it even mere moments later, he would be entirely unsure of what they were talking about.

He sat there in a daze for a few seconds longer, his eyes unfocused and his hands still shaking even as the little girl spoke up once more, her voice interrupting his rushing thoughts.

"Hey! You didn't finish my last name!"

She began, eyes glaring daggers into the fabric that she held between her fingers, her gaze trained upon the gold embroidery thread that spelled out her name.

Astarion hummed in response, mind still reeling and sight still slightly unfixed as he did his best to reply,

"Did I? And pray tell, little one, what's missing?"

The vampire knew that there was almost no sense in asking, not after he had seen the paleness of her hair, the unruliness of her curls, the sharpness of her ears, and the color of her eyes, but even so, he felt that he had to hear it, had to hear it to believe it, and had to hear it to either shatter or settle his hammering undead heart.

"Well, you only put an A."

The child reasoned,

"So that means you're missing the other six letters."

Astarion sighed shakily, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, though whether they were of yearning for his past or yearning for his future, he did not know.

But he needed to hear her say it.

"What six letters, Darling?"

He urged softly,

In response, the little girl, Ottilie, was very quick, in that very way that all children were when it came to their names, those memorized aspects of themselves that they learned so young and knew so well. She could spell her name with ease, and the speed with which she did so was meant to show it.

"N-C-U-N-I and N."

She said proudly, and Astarion let out a rattling breath of something almost like relief, though from what he did not know.

He deflated slightly against the chair, a short and almost entirely humorless laugh leaving him as he looked into Ottilie's eyes once more, finding someone there that made him wonder if this was what whatever version of himself that got to live this bliss saw when looking at her.

He was not sure if he could live like that, always seeing those eyes and remembering who had once loved him, who had likely ceaselessly mourned him since his untimely departure.

So, for his own sake, he hoped that Ottilie's sweet gaze had long since become her own in the eyes of the Astarion who had known its pull since her birth.

Though, whether that Astarion was some alternate and forever unknown version of himself, perhaps entirely untouched by Cazador and perhaps even death itself, or if this was some future he was mean to hope against hope for, he did not know.

But, he knew when he saw those eyes that this was no ordinary dream, for he had not known that color in so very long that it had left his mind entirely decades prior to him laying down to rest that evening.

No, what he was seeing was by design, that much he could tell, but beyond that he was unsure, mind unable to wrap around the intricacies of what he was seeing.

So, rather than fight it, he leaned into it one final time, just as the edges of his vision began to blur.

It was impossible to know if this was a reality he could ever truly hope to live in, so in that moment, he instead chose to see how it felt, even if for just the few seconds that time's restless grasp would allow for.

"And when you put it all together, what does that spell?"

He asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke due to his fear that the tears he was scarcely managing to hold at bay might finally fall and interrupt his words.

"Ancunin."

The little girl sitting upon his lap, his daughter, said easily, her eyes alight with the challenge of proving the knowledge she had of her own name, the name that he, with the help of another, had presumably given her long before her birth, and perhaps long before her conception as well.

Back when she had been a mere thought.

Back in the life that he led without her in it.

"Ottilie Ancunin."

Astarion said gently, brushing a few stray hairs that had avoided his careful eye and precise fingers behind one of her pointy ears with a gentleness that he had hardly even known he possessed,

"I do quite like that name,"

He began,

"It reminds me of the one your grandmother planned to use had I been born her daughter..."

He trailed off a bit as he spoke, gaze finding that of his child and holding it as if committing the sight to memory. Perhaps he was though, for he had not seen those eyes in so very long, and dared not consider how long it might be before he saw them again.

He swallowed thickly, now scarcely able to speak around the choked up ball of tears growing deep in his throat,

"You have her eyes, you know,"

He said softly,

"She would be so very proud if only she knew."

And as he watched the newest light in his once so dim life smile at his words, her plump cheeks growing pink at the unexpected compliment, Astarion felt that familiar pull of wakefulness, and, as much as he wanted to fight it, knew from experience just how useless such an act would be, and instead chose to let it drag him up from the depths of slumber and back into the world he knew so well.

"Staaaarr!"

You called from outside of his tent, a level of annoyance to your tone that almost certainly meant that this was far from the first time you'd called for him.

The elf in question heard you sigh before swinging open the flap of his tent, allowing you to stand before him with your arms crossed over your chest as he laid upon his pillows, clearly awake.

"Seriously?"

You asked, scoffing as you took in the sight of him,

"You couldn't have just yelled back or something? You had to make me walk all the way over to find out if you were awake yet?"

The vampire in question shrugged, that familiar smirk finding its way to his lips with perhaps a twinge more effort than usual.

"Apologies, Darling, but how else was I supposed to ensure that I could get an eyeful of you before getting up for the day? It seems such a luxury is in rather short supply as of late."

He teased, watching as your lips formed a pout in response, your eyes rolling in spite of the fact that your warming cheeks betrayed your true feelings about the elf's teasing words.

"Oh come on, Astarion, you cannot be serious."

You started,

"I've only fallen asleep in your tent like four times ever, would you please come off it and stop acting like its the norm to embarrass me?! I apologized ike ten times already!"

And with that, you started your tangent about how annoying it was that your vampire companion seemed to try and humiliate you in front of your other camp mates whenever possible, though Astarion wouldn't really know, because almost no part of his mind was paying any attention to the words coming out of your mouth, nor had it been for quite some time.

Because much to his surprise, he'd just been reminded of where he had seen Ottilie's pout before,

And that fact required a lot of careful consideration, indeed.

#astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion scenario #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x mc #dadstarion

[maybe-the-madman]

when you're helping your boyfriend decipher the strange scars on his back and it involves lots of combat and he still finds time to complain about things

#ps he also died in the middle of this particular combat scenario and my tav brought him back #and he STILL COMPLAINED #bro i just killed yurgir so we could get raphael to help us!! please!!!!!! #GOD #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #tav

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Things that Whumper Can Do to an Undead/Immortal Whumpee

Induce a heart attack, as many times as they please

Induce a stroke

Induce a seizure

Electrocute them

(Depending on the rules of the immortality) Remove, electrocute, or cut into the brain, creating effects similar to an extremely bad drug trip

Drain their entire body of blood

Waterboarding (also potentially in blood)

Encase them completely in concrete, immobilized and unable to breathe

Embed a sharp object inside them, which stabs them continuously from the inside out

Embed a sharp object inside them, which stabs them continuously from the inside out, but sexually

Play the long game with their connections, getting them attached to someone for whole years or decades before forcing them to kill that person

Play the long game with their hope, giving them some form of freedom for whole years or decades only to rip it away again

Play with their memories by falsifying historical documents and gaslighting them that they're starting to forget details from early on their long immortal life

Indefinite starvation

Indefinite sleep deprivation

Indefinite solitary confinement

Cut off limbs (they'll grow back)

Blind them

Cut out their tongue

Cut off that one special limb

#tw sa mention #whump #whump ideas #whump scenarios #whump writing #vampire whumpee #immortal whumpee #eternal suffering #astarion #cazador has done all of these to astarion in my headcannon and he deserves so much vengeance

[bloodycyrano]

I'm bored, here's team tadpole at the beach.

Karlach: splashing her feet in the water and looking at all the critters in the tide pools. She's probably making the most dope sandcastle you will ever see, with Clive as the ruler.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart doesn't tan. Shadowheart burns. She burns *bad*. Shadowheart is sitting under a very large umbrella, gossiping to Astarion, and religiously re-applying sunscreen every thirty minutes.

Halsin: Halsin is a bear. He's just a fluffy bear, relaxing in the sand. Perhaps he splashes about in the water a bit. Maybe he takes a moment in biped-form to whittle a duck. But he spends 99.9% of the time as a bear.- He also accidentally sat on Karlach's sandcastle, and spent the rest of the evening helping her to rebuild it even better.

Gale: Gale is trying to take a break from being camp dad, and failing miserably. He's constantly trying to remind everyone to hydrate and take some time in the shade so they don't get sun-sick, all while trying to relax and enjoy the beach himself. He ends up falling asleep in the sun, rolling over, and sunburning the left half of his body.

Wyll: Perhaps the only one who's managed to actually relax, Wyll has tried a bit of everything. Laying out in the sun, having a snack, drinking a bit of wine, and admiring the waves. Wyll, upon noticing that Karlachs sand castle got ruined, also decided to help rebuild it.

Tav/durge: Does not like the sun, was forced to come out. They're extremely overstimulated right now and have spent most of the time either in the water or digging a massive hole in the sand. Durge specifically has been making a lot of weird jokes about drowning people.

Astarion: Was the one who sent Tav/durge to dig a hole to blow off steam. Astarion has been pulling some small pranks and gossiping with Shadowheart. Most notably, the group very quickly learned not to ask Astarion to help apply sunscreen to their backs, because it resulted in bad words and drawings sunburning into their skin.

Jaheira: Has been enjoying the sun, she's had a glass of wine, and is currently trying to keep an eye on durge to make sure they don't ACTUALLY drown someone. Minsc has been keeping her company, somewhat.

Minsc: Got into a fistfight with a shark, had character development, and then tried to hunt down and apologize to the shark. Spent the rest of the night feeding Boo little treats from the snack table.

Minthara: Can't fucking see in this bright ass weather. This has made her exceptionally grumpy.

Lae'zel: Lae'zel sees absolutely no point in this little excursion. She spent about a fucking hour sharpening her sword, most of the time has been spent shadow-boxing and training. She thought training in the heat of the sun would help boost her discipline and physical tolerance, but then she got sick. It took 4 people to convince her to try and cool off in the water.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate meme #bg3 durge #astarion #dark urge #gale dekarios #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #minthara #karlach #shadowheart #halsin #bear halsin #meme #scenarios #minsc and boo #jaheira