Astarion X Reader - Blog Posts

☆ with you, eternally

astarion x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: (spawn) astarion decides to step out into the sun after his partner passes away so they could be together forever. (meant to be viewed as romantic)

the lowercase is intentional !

- warnings: character death

it had been a while since all the mindflayers and the tadpoles and the brain. actually, it had been years. decades had already come and go since then, and astarion couldn't tell that so long had already passed.

yet, so many things reminded him that time was going past.

[name] was aging, gracefully in fact. astarion loved all the wrinkles that adorned his lover's skin, or the greys that streaked [name]'s hair. those small details helped remind astarion that the world was still progressing, that he wasn't stuck in one place dreading for his end like when he was with cazador. though, it did feel like he was stuck in time, but that was because he was with [name]. he always felt as if he was stuck in slow motion with him, never wanting the days, weeks, months and years to come to an end.

but, as time progressed, [name]'s health started to decline. it wasn't anytning at first, he was perfectly fine. yet, when the wrinkles started growing deeper and when he'd get ill more often astarion knew something was up. he knew that his time with [name] wasn't going to last long. it wasn't going to in the first place anyway. astarion was cursed with immortality, whilst [name] was blessed with mortality.

astarion looked over at his lover, watching as their gaze was focused on the window outside. it was getting harder for [name] to do simple tasks on his own such as walking, eating and other mundane tasks that he had brushed past during his younger years. of course, astarion helped [name] every step of the way. he wanted to spend every moment with [name], even if it could be their last one together.

[name] looked over at astarion, noticing that someone's gaze was on him. "i don't understand why you still sit and stare at me.. i'm far too old for you to still find me attractive." [name] laughed lightheartedly. he then started coughing, making astarion's eyes widen and ears perk up out of worry and fear.

once [name] stopped coughing, astarion sighed. "i still find you attractive, dear. i'll always find you as dashing as the first day i met you, even if you were a pile of mush." astarion responded, a small smile on his face even though it pained him to see what [name] was going through.

"you are too kind.." [name] laughed a little again, his breathing deep and slow as his eyes trailed back to the window. "i'm honestly.. surprised you're still here with me. i could die at any moment, yet you stay by my side even though you can live forever." [name] whispered, his voice carried with a twinge of sadness to astarion.

astarion felt himself frowning. he didn't like where this conversation was going, not one bit. he didn't like the idea of [name] leaving him so soon, he couldn't bear it. he didn't want someone to leave him, he didn't want to be alone.

sure, astarion could've always made some effort to find an immortal lover like himself. yet, he made no such efforts to do so. [name] was his, for forever. no matter if [name] was a mere mortal or not.

"my dear, i will stay by you for as long as i will roam the earth." astarion replies, his own voice coming out as a whisper. he kneels infront of [name], taking their hand in his own before he pressed his lips to the hand. "whether you are dying, or well, i will always be by your side. i could never leave you." astarion mumbled as he pressed another kiss to [name]'s hand.

[name] hummed, turning his head back so he could look down at astarion with a small smile. "thank you, my love." the man responds, voice croaky and hoarse from the old age.

"there's no point of sharing this.. immortality of mine if i couldn't share it with you." astarion whispers, trying to refrain himself from tearing up. "even if it's just for a glimpse, a brief part of my life but all of yours.. i wouldn't want it any other way." astarion admits, looking up at [name] with a smile. yet, behind the smile were broken eyes full of pain and grief for what's to come.

[name] stares down at astarion in awe from his words. he feels touched and warmed by his lover's words. "my love.. you don't know how much i appreciate your words. you don't know how much i appreciate you.. how much i appreciate you sticking by my side.." the old man speaks, voice wavering and shaking.

astarion presses his forehead against [name]'s hand, using his own hand to squeeze theirs. he tries to keep himself from letting tears spill, but it's too late. a few start to fall onto [name]'s hand, then more and more fall onto the hand the floor.

[name] takes his free hand and he strokes astarion's cheek with it, trying to get him to look up. "don't cry, my love. i'm not gone yet.." [name] adds, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he spoke to try and lighten the mood. he just didn't want to come to terms that he'd be leaving astarion so soon.

astarion looked up and he nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve. he tried to calm down before he spoke again, he didn't want to look weak now. he couldn't act weak now. he still had to be there for [name], and [name] wasn't gone yet.

"can you lead me to the bedroom, please? i think i need to go and take a nap." [name] asks, moving the topic of conversation along. he didn't want to dampen the mood any further, the air was already thick with sorrow after all.

astarion nodded and he got up, brushing the dust off of his knees. the vampire spawn then took [name]'s arms, helping him walk over to the bedroom. once they arrived into the bedroom, astarion helped his lover onto the bed. he tucked [name] in, pressing a kiss to their wrinkled forehead before he got in next to them.

"i love you, my little star. i always will, even when my candle goes out." [name] whispers, closing his eyes slowly so he could get his rest.

astarion rested his head on [name]'s chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. "i love you, forever and always my dear." astarion whispers back, a smile on his lips as he tries to not think about what the future holds for them.

a few hours pass, and astarion moves to see if [name] is awake. the man should've woken up a while ago, his naps weren't always this long. maybe [name] was just feeling extra drowsy? astarion didn't want to think of anything else.

astarion lifts his head and he sees that [name]'s chest has stopped moving up and down. surely he's just seeing things, right? astarion just stares for a few seconds and he gulps. there's no breathing.

the vampire spawn reaches out and grabs [name]'s hand. it's cold. yes, [name] had recently been growing colder and colder, not being the same firey warmth astarion was used to. but, this time the coldness was different. it was almost as if [name] was a solid block of ice. maybe it was because there was a breeze in the room? that was surely it, right?

astarion rests his head on [name]'s chest once again to confirm his suspicions. he needs to be 100% sure of something before he jumps to conclusions. and there it is.. [name] no longer has a pulse. there's no longer a heartbeat astarion can hear to remind him that his lover is alive.

"no.." astarion mumbles, lifting his head up once more to take a look at his dearest. "no, no, no.." astarion shakes his head, trying to blink away incoming tears but it's no use. his love is gone. nothing can bring him back. no tears, no cries or screams are going to bring [name] back. there was absolutely nothing. [name]'s candle had been blown out, and too early for astarion's liking. there was so much unspoken words, so many things astarion could've said and things he wanted to say. but it was too late.

astarion started bawling. he gripped tightly onto his dead lover's body, not letting it go. it was as if he was protecting it from some unknown entity, scared they were going to take away [name] from him. but, they already had.

"no.. [name] why?!" astarion sobbed into [name]'s chest. he couldn't even let out any proper tears, he was silently crying, screaming even, into [name]'s unbeating chest.

astarion's mind and heart rattle inside of him. they wrestle, trying to get astarion to listen, to do one thing that they offer. yet, astarion does not budge. he does not hear his heart or his mind. the only thing he can hear is his silent crying into [name]'s chest, the sound he desperately didn't want to hear until years into the future.

the vampire's mind screams and yells at him, telling him that astarion should join him. his mind screams that they could be together forever if astarion just joined him. but how? there was no possible way for astarion to join [name], as much as he wanted to.

yet, there was a solution. the sun.

astarion was only a spawn, he couldn't walk out in the sun without a fear of being burnt into a crisp. the only method of him joining [name] would be walking out into the sun or getting staked in the heart. astarion opted for the sun.

astarion let go of [name]'s body, running out of the house and into the sun. the golden hues kissed his pale skin, until they started to burn. piece by piece, astarion started to flow away as ash. the ash littered the sky, almost telling a story of the words astarion wanted to say, the story of his tragedy.

perhaps it was a spur of the moment thing, a stupid, silly idea that astarion shouldn't of acted upon. but it was too late now. astarion could now finally be with [name], eternally. they could finally be together until the end of time.

astarion didn't want anything else, just to be with [name] forever and always.

- author's note: hope you guys enjoyed :)

- navigation ; masterlist ; requests

i'll get this posted by the weekend as always :)

☆ i want you

astarion x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: under cazador's rule, astarion never got what he wanted. but, that changed ever since he met [name]. (meant to be viewed as romantic)

the lowercase is intentional !

for the past 200 years of his life, astarion never had a say in what he wanted to do. he had to go out, look for people to lure back to cazador and sleep with those said people. it was never what he wanted. it was what cazador wanted.

astarion had to listen to orders from his 'master'. he had to always follow his 'master's wants and demands, or else something bad would happen.

but astarion didn't want to listen.

astarion wanted to chose to do what he wanted, not what cazador wanted. why did he have to do what someone else wanted him to do? why was that person not able to accomplish their wants on their own? astarion did understand.

by coincidence, astarion found himself on a mindflayer ship and soon crash landing near a beach.

the spawn was free from cazador, at least for now. he was able to walk into the sun too for the first time in 200 years. most importantly, astarion felt free. well, his idea of 'being free' was quite restricted. he now had a parasite that could turn him into a tentacled, brain eating monster at any point. astarion didn't like how that was his definition of being free from cazador.

of course, down the line of astarion's new found and temporary freedom, he met [name]. from that day forth, the two started travelling together.

there was something about [name] that astarion couldn't understand. he was nothing like the other people astarion knew. he was nothing like astarion's brothers, or sisters or even cazador. there was something different about him.

[name] listened. he listened to everything astarion, and other companions, said to him. he was so attentive and observant, which was quite unlike all the people astarion had met before. it was all about them and their feelings and their wants, not astarions.

it made astarion feel something. it made the vampire spawn feel something that he hadn't felt in his 200 years of 'living'. yet, astarion couldn't bring himself to understand what this feeling was. or, well, he didn't want to confront the feeling after being trapped for so long not being able to have what he wants.

night had fallen upon camp, and everyone was sitting around the fire. everyone was laughing, making jokes and telling eachother stories about their pasts before the parasites. that was everyone except astarion.

astarion was lurking in the shadows, just as he did before when he did the things cazador wanted him to do. astarion's mind was just rattling, plaguing him with different ideas about [name] and he just didn't want to confront himself about it. astarion tried his hardest to push away these thoughts and feelings, to lock them away forever, but nothing was working.

a sudden snap of a branch was heard, making astarion shoot his head towards the noise. it was [name], a smile plastered on his face and a glass of wine in his hands that he held out for astarion to take.

"you looked lonely, i thought you might want some company." [name] said as he walked closer to astarion, taking a seat on the floor besides the spawn.

astarion took the wine and he started to sip on it, not making any eye contant with [name] whatsoever. why did the man he was just thinking of and trying to hard to ignore the feelings he had for have to show up? and why did he have to be so nice, and caring, and considerate all the damn time?

the vampire spawn sighed to himself, although it was still loud enough for [name] to hear him do so. he took another sip of the wine and his eyes darted from his glass, to [name] and back again. he wanted to say something to the other man, but he didn't know what to say.

"i think.. i think i've finally figured out what i want." astarion mumbled into the glass, his eyes fixated on it, no longer moving to look at his companion.

[name] turned his head towards astarion and he raised an eyebrow. he was definitely curious as to what his friend 'wants'. he was surprised that astarion even decided to bring up such a thing in the first place. "oh?" is all [name] responded with, wanting astarion to keep the conversation going.

astarion cleared his throat before he spoke yet again. "i mean, i've always had to do what others wanted me to do, like cazador.. but i've finally figured out what i want." astarion continues speaking, secretly hoping that [name] isn't weirded out by what he's saying.

"well, what is it that you want?" [name] hummed in response, a smile forming on his lips as his face was still turned towards astarion. he'd be willing to help out the spawn with his desires, no matter what those desires may be.

astarion took a deep breath and he finally looked at [name]. for some reason he felt so flustered and mushy, he never felt like this when luring people to cazador. but then again, [name] always made him feel so different.

"i want you." astarion whispered, his crimson eyes glimmering in the moonlight as they stayed fixated on [name]. "not just for sex or passion, i want you fully. for love and simple pleasures between us two." astarion confessed, feeling relieved for finally admitting his feelings but at the same time feeling proud for saying what he wanted.

[name] sat there processing astarion's words for a few seconds. astarion was getting a little nervous admittedly at [name]'s lack of response. nobody who astarion manipulated or tricked before ever stayed this silent at some seduction. but this wasn't just simple seduction, this was the truth. astarion truly did want [name].

a smile was still on [name]'s lips after he had processed the words astarion had given him. there was no look of disgust or annoyance on the man's face, and quite frankly astarion was glad.

"i think i could make that work." [name] finally replied, taking astarion's empty hand into his own. he then stroked the pale elf's hand gently, still looking up at his face. "we could make this work." [name] finished his response with a kiss to astarion's hand, and astarion felt the happiest he had ever felt in years.

astarion had finally gotten what he had wanted. he now had [name], and [name] had him. astarion couldn't feel any better. he was so glad that he could get the things that he wanted, not the things that others wanted.

astarion finally felt the freest he had ever felt in 200 years.

☆ author's note: hope you guys enjoy (even if this is kind of short)! i finally triggered astarion's confession scene today :') keep requests coming! you guys can also request some valentine's day themed things too!

☆ masterlist ▪︎ request

☆ touches

astarion x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: astarion doesn't remember the last time he felt the touch of someone that wasn't for sexual purposes. he hopes to remember all of [name]'s touches. (meant to be viewed as romantic)

the lowercase is intentional !

astarion doesn't remember the last time he's felt the sweet, loving touch of another. for the past 200 years it's just been touches of agony, or touches of sexual pleasure. nothing else.

but, then there was [name]. a man he met right after the nautiloid crashed, and he's been travelling with the other ever since then.

astarion had grown quite fond of [name], but he wasn't going to admit that. he couldn't admit that because he quite frankly didn't know how to. all he knew about loving another was just seducing and manipulating them so they'd sleep with him, trust him forever. astarion didn't know true love yet.

a sigh escapes the vampire spawn's lips as he rests at his tent. he's reading through a book, sipping from his goblet, wine pouring down his throat and for some reason astarion just can't get [name] out of his head.

he wants to care for the man, to be held by the man. he didn't just want something sexual with [name]. he wanted something romantic, something sweet and innocent. something that wasn't like anything else had experienced. something new.

astarion shook his head, trying to shake off the thoughts that were plaguing him. he couldn't think of another like this, it was unusal and nothing at all like him.

[name] noticed the small look of sadness that was plastered on astarion's face. it was something different - [name] never noticed the vampire spawn to have such an expression. naturally, the man was concerned for his companion.

"astarion?" [name] said as he approached the said male, a small smile on his face as he got closer to astarion. he tried to reassure him with his words and the look on his face, not make him any more upset than he already was.

"is something wrong, darling?" astarion replied, his face immediately being wiped of any sign of saddness or discomfort. he was hiding his true feelings, like always.

[name] studied astarion's face well, looking him up and down to see the hint of sadness that was on his face before. astarion's face didn't show it, he hid it. but his eyes told his secrets.

"you.. there's something wrong isn't there?" [name] responded to astarion's question with another question, crossing his arms over his chest. "i won't pry.. but i'm worried for you astarion. i've never seen you, well, upset before." [name] sighed, a small frown now forming on his lips.

astarion was surprised with [name]'s answer, to say the least. he didn't expect the man to be so perceptive of everything, let alone of someone like astarion.

the gesture warmed astarion's cold heart, and astarion felt like it was beating again. nobody had ever made him feel such a way these past 200 years. nobody cared about what astarion felt or wanted, they only cared about torturing him or trying to get into bed with him.

"i care for you, astarion. truly." [name] continued as he took a few, cautious steps forward, not wanting to startle astarion. "i'm here for you, and i want to help you with whatever it is you're upset about." the male carried on speaking gently before he took ahold of both of astarion's pale hands, stroking them.

astarion felt like he was melting. [name]'s soft touches were just doing it for him, he wanted to stay like this for as long as possible. he wanted to remember this moment for as long as he lived. he was finally being touch with such gentleness, such softness and love. he felt as if his heart was actually beating again.

"it's nothing, my dear. just.. something silly. it's nothing, really." astarion smiles at [name], but the other is not convinced at all by the elf's words.

"i don't think it's nothing, astarion. you were upset and even if it is something.. i still want to hear it." [name] insists, even though he said a few moments prior that he wouldn't pry if astarion didn't feel like it. he still held the elf's hands in his own, never wanting to let go.

astarion submit to [name]'s words and soft touches. he couldn't say no to the man infront of him, even if he tried, and he tried, and he tried again. it wouldn't work.

astarion sighs and he shakes his head, taking a deep breath before speaking up again. "it's just.. i wished to have someone touch me in a more romantic, non sexual way. but.. you've fulfilled all of my desires, love. so there's nothing else to be said." the vampire spawn expresses his worries, a smile on his face as he speaks to [name].

[name] nods and listens intently to what astarion has to say about his worries. [name] feels sorry for astarion, how could he not? the other knew nothing of kindness, nothing of love and non-sexual intimacy for 200 years. he had been tortured, sleeping with other people without ever feeling the love of another.

"well, i'm glad i can help you, star." [name] replies with a whisper, a hand moving up to touch astarion's cheek. his touch is soft, warm and everything astarion wanted. the vampire spawn never wanted this to end. he wanted to stay like this forever, even if he had mentioned that to himself multiple times before.

"thank you." astarion says back to the man infront of him, his voice slightly breaking as his smile wobbles on his lips. he truly feels that this is the life he wants for the rest of eternity. he wants nothing else but these touches and sweet, sweet words.

[name] hums and he continues to stroke astarion's cheek tenderly, his eyes filled with love for the other man. he also didn't want this moment to end, as much as astarion didn't want it to end.

"you don't have to thank me. i'll always be glad to be by your side, and show you as much love as you need. whether that be touches, words or anything else that you need." [name] whispers into astarion's ear before placing a sweet kiss on astarion's cheek. his words were true and sincere, full of a love that astarion hadn't felt in so long.

astarion nods along to [name]'s words, savouring the moment for what felt like forever. he wanted to savour it for forever, he wanted to remember it for forever and all of the moments similar to this one that would follow after.

"i want to remember all of these moments.. all of these touches for forever." astarion confesses, his words almost hushed so only [name] could hear them and nobody else at camp. it felt like they were the only two people there.

"then, i'll keep giving you new moments to remember too. for as long as possible." [name] responds, a feeling of truth and honestly behind his words. astarion definitely wouldn't be opposed to having more touches, words and memories shared with [name]. it would be simply wonderful. perfect even.

astarion knows he will remember the new memories of having felt the sweet, loving touch of another. for the next 200 years and beyond, he will remind himself of [name] and every moment they shared. they love that they had for eachother.

astarion is sure to remember.

☆ author's note: hope you guys enjoy my first bg3 fic! astarion is who i am currently romancing on my first try too. i'm looking forward to romancing wyll next, all of his scenes just seem so sweet. the dancing.. might write something about it. keep requesting too!

☆ masterlist ▪︎ request

posts will be less frequent since my entrance exams (aka an exam that'll decide the trajectory of the rest of my life) are in a month! i will still be posting, but requests will be on hold. askbox will still be open, but you may need to wait a long time for requests

works in the making:

drunk walk home — a soukoku fluff oneshot. (posted!!)

melting moment — chuuya x reader, will be a continuation of let the light in, which i'm planning on making a series soon.

the first taste — spawn astarion x tav pre-relationship oneshot.

also i'm gonna start cross posting my fics on my ao3 account by the tag of @formicablues. i've only posted two fics on there for the time being given i'm still figuring things out lmao

picture of my cats to apologize for late content <3

rules for requesting

DO NOT INTERACT if you're gonna be shitty on this page. don't like don't read.

i do not write nsfw, though suggestive themes can be requested and i do approach themes of violence, requested posts or otherwise. suicidal ideation and suicide will be written about sparingly on this blog. do not take what i write as an example of me possibly condoning these things. i do not write noncon, incest or stepcest.

currently, i take requests for these fandoms; bungou stray dogs, baldur's gate 3, resident evil.

i do write for ships!! these are the ones i will have most preference for:

bsd: soukoku, shin soukoku, kunikidazai (why are we shipping quality men with dazai osamu), ranpoe, fyolai, kunichuuranzai

resident evil: serrenedy, aeon (leon x ada)

baldur's gate 3: bloodweave (gale x astarion), shadowzel (shadowheart x lae'zel)

Someone to shed some light - chapter list

Astarion x gn!reader - soon to be NSFW

Summary:

After being raised as a commoner, you find yourself as the last in a royal bloodline, forced into a marriage with someone you’ve never met. He’s more than he seems. AKA: An arranged marriage AU with everyone’s favorite vampire.

Chapter List:

I. The Wedding

II. The Honeymoon

III. The Zhentarim

IV. The Hunter

V. The Camp

VI. On its way!

Break of Dawn, Chapter 3 (Astarion x Tiefling! Tav)

A/N: I wanted to experiment writing chapters from Astarion's perspective, so that's what this is. Featuring Astarion's awesome flirting skills and vague Gale slander.

Warnings: Brief flashback scene with Cazabitch but nothing too graphic.

WC: 4k

Astarion could not believe his good fortune.

To be fair, he would’ve thought a day spent somewhere besides the palace or someone else’s bed without the threat of a whip to the back would’ve been paradise, but this? This was beyond anything he had dared to hope for.

Which was funny, considering how his day had started.

It was the same as always: woken from a weak trance he had been lucky enough to earn by the tapping of his master’s staff. He had rolled out of his bunk and bent his head as Cazador gave his orders. Ten people by sunrise, no preference for age or sex, but he’d receive something by way of a reward if he found someone blonde. Astarion never questioned his master’s tastes. Success meant dinner, failure meant pain. He had agreed because he had no other option.

Cazador had gripped his chin in a frigid hand, tilting Astarion’s head back until he was forced to meet his master’s eyes. A small smile had crossed his face while he examined Astarion, a cruel sort of fondness in his gaze.

“Your brother fell short of my expectations,” he had drawled in a voice like a breeze through a crypt. “And I have no desire to punish another of my children tonight.” One thin eyebrow had raised. “You won’t disappoint me, will you?”

“No, master.” 

The smile twitched up slightly.

“For your sake, I should hope so.”

Cazador had bent and pressed a kiss against Astarion’s hairline, and it took everything he had to suppress the shudder that almost wracked his body. As Cazador straightened, the grip around his chin suddenly tightened, and Astarion caught a glimpse of what he knew to be the beginnings of Cazador’s irritation.                 

“I gave you the privilege to rest, my child. It is well past nightfall now. Did you not think I would want you ready by sunset?”      

“I’m sorry, master, I—"

A squeeze against his throat and Astarion’s voice had choked off.

“You have taken advantage of my generosity. Perform well tonight, and perhaps I will overlook this slight.” Cazador had given him a long, slow blink. “I told you ten for tonight?”

Astarion nodded, knowing better than to speak. Cazador’s smile split into a full grin, fangs curved over pale lips.

“Bring me fifteen.”

Astarion had dressed as best he could, doing his best to hide the ache deep in his bones and the familiar dagger pain in his stomach. He had passed the kennels on the way out and ignored Petras’s howls from inside. Petras had failed. Astarion would not.

He had walked the halls so many times that he barely registered the servants stalking the passages, fists clenched tightly around their brooms and rags, eyes turned down in permanent subjugation. His thoughts swirled in a spiral of his own mental chastising. He knew better than to oversleep, knew better than to push his master’s limits. Now he was paying the price. Fifteen before the sun came up was near impossible, but it was nothing he hadn’t managed before. Astarion had grit his teeth. He wouldn’t fail.

He was so distracted that he had nearly collided with Dalyria. Astarion hissed and sidestepped her.

“Watch where you’re going,” he had growled at her. Dalyria had just huffed and continued the way he had come from, he caught the faint scent of blood as she passed. He paused and turned back to watch her go.

“You ate?” he called. Dalyria had stopped and tilted her head back.

“I brought the master one of the hunters from the Gur camp. I was rewarded.”                                                                                                      

Astarion’s stomach rumbled at the mere mention of a meal.        

“With what?” 

Dalyria had blinked, and Astarion caught a glimpse of pity. Maybe a bit of guilt.         

“A rabbit.

Astarion could hardly believe it. Two hundred years and he’d never gotten a rabbit. Dalyria flinched as Astarion couldn’t even bother to hide his rage.

“Perhaps if you’re quick tonight, you will be rewarded, too.”

Astarion said nothing as he slipped away. He couldn’t fail now. Not if rabbits were on the table. He’d bring Cazador all the blondes on the Sword Coast if he had to.   

The lamplit streets of Baldur’s Gate were familiar to Astarion as he slinked down the paths to his usual haunts in the Lower City. Yousen had nearly been flayed alive a few nights prior when he’d brought back the son of a wealthy patriar by accident, so the Upper City was currently off limits. That meant seedy bars and sweaty hands ruining his already patched-together clothing, but at least the people there wouldn’t be missed. He could already feel himself going through the motions: drawing his back up straight, fixing his hair, digging roach legs out from between his teeth and wiping the dirt from his skin. Tonight, he was a charming magistrate from the Upper City looking for a pretty commoner to bring back to his estate. Confident, sultry, put-together. For his sake, he hoped he found someone who bought it.

Astarion passed the Elfsong and noticed it was busy but decided against finding a mark there. He’d gone to that tavern the last few nights he’d been sent out and had no desire to draw suspicion, even if the patrons there were usually of a higher class than those that frequented the less popular bars in the city. Instead, Astarion’s feet brought up to the Blushing Mermaid. He wasn’t fond of the sailors and pirates that he pulled there—the one thing worse than their breath was their manners, both in and out of the bedroom—but the Mermaid’s clientele was often a desperate sort. People who had just spent months with nothing but the open ocean for miles and only their own hands for company. Usually, all it took was a whispered promise of ecstasy to get a wayward sailor following on his heels. The quality of any resulting situation was rarely stellar and often painful, but it was nothing Astarion hadn’t stomached before.

He was already running down his reliable list of lines to use on his chosen victim when a sudden gust of air blew past the top of his head. Astarion curled his lip, knowing his hair was now likely in disarray, but a scream further up the street drew his focus away.

It was Baldur’s Gate. Astarion had heard screaming before, often followed by the sound of a coin purse or a stomach getting split open and the footsteps of a thief fleeing the scene before the Fist arrived, but this felt different. It wasn’t a scream of someone being mugged or assaulted. Whoever it was sounded terrified.

He didn’t even get the chance to find out why when a light flared up before him, and even after two centuries of running from the sun Astarion could tell it wasn’t daylight. If his lungs still had breath, he was sure the air would’ve been sucked from him. His ears popped, and the light disappeared.

The next thing he knew, he was in a very tight and very dark place, and for a moment his undead heart seized at just the prospect of being deep underground again. His hands clawed out, terror in his throat. What had happened? Had he passed out? Been attacked? Tears burned in his eyes because he knew it didn’t matter what had happened if he had failed. If one of Cazador’s minions had had to drag him back to the mansion empty handed.

He was back in a coffin, back to endless days of blackness and hunger and—

Astarion’s hands met glass.

The panic waned for a moment, replaced by confusion. His fingers dragged down a cold surface, and now that he wasn’t consumed entirely by fear and actually focused, he could see that the surface in front of him was transparent but fogged up by smoke and his frantic undead breath. Glass, he told himself. Not wood. Not a coffin.          

But that hadn’t answered his question of where he was. Or, more importantly, how much trouble he was going to be in when he escaped.

He was just beginning to formulate excuses and apologies for whenever he next faced his master’s wrath when the glass suddenly lifted away, and Astarion found himself face to face with one of the most hideous creatures he’d ever seen. All tentacles and beady orange eyes, long fingers holding up something squirming, and then he was screaming as his eyelids were pried open and it was shoved into his socket, wriggling all the way down.

Astarion had faded in and out of consciousness after that, wondering if it was all just a bad dream—somehow worse than his usual bad dreams—but soon he felt a shudder through the floor, and the far wall was ripped away. He couldn’t get a good look outside, but he saw a bolt of fire rip through the room. Astarion could do nothing but watch in terror as the room began to burn and hope that he wouldn’t be roasted alive. Well, not alive, but…you know.

Soon after he caught sight of someone moving outside. He had reached up and wiped away some of the fog on the glass and saw the vague outline of a tiefling climbing down from some kind of large pod. The same kind of pod Astarion figured he had to be in. He watched the tiefling straighten out, horns stark against the blaze of flames, and saw their face framed in the light streaming from outside. It was a woman, that much he could tell, but she was sprinting from the room before he had the opportunity make out much else besides that and the symbol of a sun on her chest armor. He didn’t even have the chance to call out for help.                   

Another lurch, and he had no time to stop his head from snapping forward against the glass, and everything went dark again.

Then he was on the beach.

Everything had hurt when he opened his eyes again, more than usual, but that quickly became a low priority problem when he realized he was laying in the sun. Astarion had shot up, every instinct in him telling him to run, but as he stood and looked down to assess the damage, he was beyond shocked to see no blisters, no burns. Instead, just his pale skin, fully exposed to the sun, scratched and slightly bloody but otherwise completely fine. He was standing in the sun. Standing in the sun and he was okay.        

It took another bewildered moment for Astarion to realize another thing. Besides a splitting headache, his mind felt remarkably empty. There was a strange tingle behind his eye, but beyond that, nothing. No voice telling him what to do. No whispered command to cut his own skin or to lay with a person he could not have cared less about. No compulsion. No Cazador.                         

If his headache wasn’t so bad, Astarion would’ve been convinced he had died a second time and somehow slipped into Elysium.

His elation only lasted a moment longer before reality set in, however. He was, somehow, standing in the sun, far enough away that Cazador couldn’t reach him, completely and utterly by himself with no idea where he was or what to do. The familiar rumble in his stomach told him a meal should be a top priority, followed perhaps by a tumble in the river to see if he could manage a swim without his vampiric nature causing the water to make him vomit. Then he needed to find civilization.

Astarion looked around. He needed a plan.                                   

He didn’t know how to make a plan.               

He sighed.    

Maybe the situation wasn’t as great as he thought.

Astarion was standing in front of the wreck of his pod, trying to force his brain to come up with something useful, when he heard a voice over his shoulder. He turned and saw two figures further up the road he’d been standing on, with a third a little bit behind them. Astarion blinked into the sun—his eyes were starting to hurt from the sudden strain—and caught the shape of curved horns and red skin.                  A tiefling. The tiefling. The one that had ditched him on the ship.

Now he had a plan.

A plea for help had brought the woman over, with her two companions following shortly after. A quick lie about one of the mindflayers’ pets in the bushes brought the tiefling close enough to snatch, but not before he caught her eyes and saw a momentary flash of suspicion. Astarion gave her his best smile in an attempt to broadcast that he could be trusted and grabbed her the moment she turned her back on him. Stupid move on her part. Never trust a stranger on the road.

Her companions had started yelling almost immediately as he brought his knife to the tiefling’s throat, and this close he could smell her. The sweat on her skin, the faint whiff of cinnamon underneath, and the blood in her veins. Rich and delicious. Her neck was right there. He felt his mouth begin to water and his stomach reminded him that he was starving. All it would take was a tilt of his head, an open mouth, and he’d be more fed in that moment than he had been in nearly two centuries.                      

There was a blossom of pain against his chin and the tiefling was slipping from his hands. With a start, he realized she had bashed her horns against his face. Bitch.             

Astarion leapt to his feet and held his dagger up as he faced the tiefling and her companions. In the sun, her skin looked red as cherries, but there was something wrong with it. He squinted and caught the raised edges of scars curling over her lower face and down her neck. Burn scars, from the look of it, too old to have come from the burning ship. Even with the scars, the woman was pretty. Attractive. Bright, clever eyes, long dark hair braided down her back. His gaze was drawn to her armor again, and he recognized the symbol of the sun as Lathander’s. The Morninglord had no temples in the city, but his and his followers’ quest against the undead was violent enough that Cazador had taught all the spawn to be wary of those baring the mark of the Dawnbringer. 

Astarion narrowed his eyes. So, not only had the woman left him behind, but she also happened to serve the one god who hated the undead more than anything else? Great. Wonderful. Fantastic.

He had spat out his suspicion towards the woman, accusing her of working for the illithids, to which she had retorted that none of them—neither her nor her companions—had wanted to be on that ship. Apparently, they had gotten something slimy forced into their eyes. Parasites that would turn them into mindflayers by the week’s end if they didn’t find a cure. Astarion felt his heart plummet.

He’d gotten the sun and freedom from his mater in exchange for hideous tentacles. Just his luck.

The tiefling introduced herself as Tav, the brooding half-elf as Shadowheart—ominous—and the human wizard as Gale. To Astarion’s surprise, Tav had extended the offer to him to travel with her group, much to Shadowheart’s immediate and obvious irritation. He had weighed his options. On the one hand, he knew it would be incredibly stupid to follow a Lathanderite whose sole divine mission was to hunt the undead. If she even had the hint of suspicion that he was on her god’s hit list, he was done for.

On the other, Astarion genuinely couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on his own. The last time he had to fend for himself. He had enough sense to know that trying to survive by himself would likely end in disaster, and that his odds improved exponentially when accounting for allies, even if one was Lathander’s pet cleric. Oh, well. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.                                               

Astarion had sheathed his dagger and agreed, layering on his best smile for good measure.

Yes, his luck was certainly on the upswing.     

---

Astarion may have not been a fully-fledged member of society in two hundred years, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to make conversation. A skill the wizard apparently lacked. It had taken less than ten minutes of Gale’s rambling about the wildlife he’d noticed on their journey so far for Astarion to determine that, at the first chance, he was pushing the wizard off a cliff. The half-elf, Shadowheart, wasn’t much better. She was quiet and somber, glaring at him every time he so much as looked her way. Astarion gathered enough to know that she, too, was a cleric, but she wouldn’t say who her patron was.

That was fine enough for Astarion. The only confirmation he needed was that Shadowheart was not another Lathanderite. Her lip had curled when she denied the accusation, and Astarion had the sneaking suspicion that, for all Shadowheart’s bristles, she may have been a kindred spirit.

Then there was Tav. Early on in their trek, had had bounded to the front where she was walking. It was obvious the other two were looking to Tav as some kind of leader, and damned if he wasn’t going to weasel his way into her good graces as soon as he could.

“So,” he had drawled as he sidled up to her side. “What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?”

He almost bit his tongue from cringing at his own line, but it had gotten an eyeroll and a small grin out of Tav, which he counted as a win.

“A mindflayer ship, same as you.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.”             

He waited for Tav to say something, but she let the attempt at conversation lapse into an awkward silence only broken by Gale’s whistling from behind them. Astarion had cleared his throat and cast a glance at Tav. She was pretty, even with the roping scars across her face and neck.

“What were you doing when the mindflayers got you?” she finally said, obviously feeling his eyes on her. He smiled, slipping into the persona he’d been ready to use on his victims.

“Just some late-night paperwork. I’m a magistrate, back in Baldur’s Gate. Tedious work. I’d stepped outside to stretch my legs when those heathens snatched me up.”                                                         

“Baldur’s Gate?” Tav said, and he had caught a curious look in her eye. “I was heading that way when the mindflayers got me."         

“What buisiness do you have in the city?”

Tav had paused, swallowed, bit her lip.

“Visiting friends.”

Astarion knew a lie when he saw one but hadn’t pressed his luck.

Shortly after that, shouting from up ahead and drawn their attention. Astarion stood back and watched as Tav had jogged up, and when he and the others had caught up with her, they saw Tav speaking to two other tieflings who were pointing at something hung in a cage nearby. Upon closer inspection, Astarion saw it was a gith woman, looking very much like an angry toad, glaring at the crowd below.

Tav was talking in low tones to the tieflings, but the words that reached his ears were in a language he didn’t recognize. The two tieflings had exchanged a glance with each other before walking away. Shadowheart had turned on Tav the moment they were out of earshot.

“You are not freeing are, are you?” she had snapped. Tav had already angled her fingers in the direction of the rope holding the cage above the ground.

“More the merrier, Shadowheart. We need allies.”

“Not if those allies are gith.”

Tav hadn’t waited for any more dissention. She let loose a small flicker of brilliant gold flame that seared the edge of the rope. With a crash, the cage had collided into the ground, freeing the gith inside. Almost immediately, Shadowheart broke into an angry rant that the gith wasted no time in joining. Tav nudged in-between the two, attempting to cool the situation.

“Well, she seems delightful,” Gale had quipped from beside him.

Tav had eventually explained that she and Shadowheart had met the gith woman on the mindflayer vessel, and that apparently the gith had been very adamant on leaving Shadowheart to burn alive in her pod, something Shadowheart was still very clearly upset about. There was some bickering, some swearing, and some mild threats of violence, but both Shadowheart and the gith had eventually fallen into a tense calm.

The gith had introduced herself as Lae’zel before explaining that her people knew a cure for their current predicament, and that the cure was located somewhere she called a creche. Whatever the hells that was. Lae’zel had apparently heard her tiefling captors discussing someone who had seen githyanki nearby, and that must have meant one of their strongholds was in the area.

Tav had then revealed the details of her conversation with the tieflings. Under the guise of needing a healer—which Astarion figured wasn’t quite a lie—she had gotten the tieflings to reveal the location of their encampment: a druid’s grove near the top of the incline, around a mile away. However, the tieflings had mentioned something about the grove not being open to strangers, especially not after dark, so the group had decided to make camp and visit the grove in the morning.

That was almost an hour ago, and the sun was giving out its last bit of light before dipping beneath the horizon. As it turned out, only Tav, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart had the supplies to set up a tent, but the two clerics had extra bedrolls to spare for him and Gale. Lae’zel had found an open patch of grass near the beach that was far enough away from the trees to ease fears about wild animals finding their little camp. It was far from luxury, but anywhere Astarion could lay down without Cazador breathing down his neck was good enough. 

Astarion was setting up his bedroll around the fire Gale had started and found his eyes wandering to Tav. Out of solidarity, she had refused to put up her tent and elected to sleep out in the open with him and Gale. Shadowheart and Lae’zel had not followed her example and were putting their tents up on opposite ends of the clearing. Gale meanwhile had begun walking the perimeter of the camp and was setting up protection spells for some extra insurance against attacks, leaving just Astarion and Tav by the fire. Astarion watched her removing her armor piece by piece, first the large chest plate followed by the tough leather shirt underneath, leaving her in just a loose shirt and leggings. The more she stripped away, the more it became clear how far down her scars ran. Her arms, hands, and upper chest were all mottled with puckered tissue, interspersed with patches of white flesh.

“It’s vitiligo,” she said suddenly. He blinked. Apparently he wasn’t being as subtle as he had thought.                      

“Sorry?”

Tav looked up, and in the dark her infernal eyes almost seemed to glow. She pointed to a spot of white skin just above her elbow, stark against the surrounding red flesh.

“These little patches. It’s a skin condition. My body doesn’t make enough pigment, so sometimes the color gets washed out.” She looked up with a crooked smile. “It’s not contagious.”

Astarion hadn’t even realized he was leaning away from her.                  

“Ah. Yes, of course. I knew that.”

Tav gave him a look that he wasn’t sure was a good one.

“Besides,” continued, looking back down to where she was running a cloth over a crossbow. “You’re so pale already, I doubt it would make much of a difference.”

Astarion huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t blame me for wanting to keep all this,” he gestured up and down his body, “looking its best.” He blinked. “Not that the spots don’t suit you, of course. They’re charming.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

Astarion shot her his best smile, but only saw a slight scrunch form between her full brows. Tav was speaking again before he had a chance to take control of the conversation. 

“Speaking of, not to be rude of course, but I couldn’t help but notice you are rather…pallid.” Tav turned to face him fully, crossbow abandoned in her lap. “Don’t get a lot of sun?”

Astarion met her gaze. There was something in Tav’s expression, a pinch in the corners of her eyes, that he couldn’t put his finger on. So, he shrugged and let an easy grin fall over his face.

“I spend my days in an office, darling. Not a lot of time for sunlight when the Fist have you pouring over every minor case this side of the Chionthar.”

“Are you sick, then? The paleness could be due to…lack of blood flow, perhaps? Poor circulation?” 

Astarion caught the suspicion in her eyes this time. An arc in her brow as she worried the skin of her lip between her front teeth. He cursed himself. Tav was a cleric of Lathander. They were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out the undead. Combined with the other events of the day, she was definitely on high alert.

So, he smiled. Leaned back onto his hands, purposefully catching the fading sunlight that was streaking into camp past the trees. He didn’t need a mirror to know the rays were directly on his face now.

“Alas, I am but one victim in a long line of porcelain elves. Just be grateful you got me and not my father—staring at him in this light would blind you.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not. Astarion couldn’t remember his father’s face.

“But I do appreciate your concern, dear. Should I feel under the weather, you’ll be the first I call.”

Tav took a long moment, staring at him in the sun, obviously fighting some internal battle. Astarion watched, begging her to let the matter drop, to turn away, to give him his first easy night in two centuries.

At last, her lips curled up in a slight grin, but he could still see a sliver of hesitation in her eyes.

“Of course. I didn’t mean to be nosey. Cleric’s instincts, you understand.”

“Water under the bridge, darling."

There was a clatter and a shout, and they both turned to look over at where Shadowheart and Lae’zel were bickering over what looked like a broken crossbow. Tav sighed and stood, brushing dirt off her pants as she turned away to calm the storm once again.

“I’ll take the first watch tonight,” he called after her. Tav glanced back, a question in her eyes, but she simply nodded. He watched her go, her tail curled up high against her back, shoulders strong, hair well-combed.

An uneasy feeling stirred in his stomach. Tav was suspicious, and watching him walk in the sun was only going to stop her snooping for so long. Eventually, she was going to start digging like Lathander’s lapdogs always do, and the game would be up when she inevitably found out the truth.

Astarion drew his brows together. Vampires were far from the most well-liked creatures in Faerûn, and he didn’t trust any of the people in camp to let him stay if they found out what he was. At best he’d be cast out, at worst he’d be staked. And as much as Astarion hated to admit it, he knew he’d be useless by himself. Two hundred years deprived of freedom led to rusty survival skills. He needed this group, if for nothing else just to keep him safe for the time being.                More importantly, he needed Tav. Her approval was a necessity to earn his place in her makeshift party. It was just a matter of how to earn that approval.

His stomach growled, and he was once again reminded of how hungry he was.

Tav’s favor was a tomorrow problem. For now, he was going to find himself a godsdamn rabbit for dinner.

Break of Dawn, Chapter 2 (Astarion x Tiefling! Tav)

A/N: Okay second chapter and Astarion finally shows up lol. Featuring Tav's spidey sense immediately clocking something is Weird about this random elf and Shadowheart being really good at making friends. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated!

Warnings: None except for Shadowheart's snark. Expect smut and violence in later chapters.

WC: 5k

Thankfully, while she did wake up with a headache again, it wasn’t nearly as severe as the one that had roused her early. Tav groaned, feeling like she had just been at the receiving end of a rothé stampede, before remembering that what had actually happened wasn’t much better. It took a moment for her to wonder if the fall had killed her and she was now laying there waiting for Kelemevor’s judgement, but the distant sound of birds and what felt like sand beneath her fingers convinced her otherwise. With a great amount of effort, Tav peeled her eyes open, only to be immediately met with sunlight. It took everything she had not to curse Lathander and to instead be grateful that at least she was being blinded by the actual sun and not Avernus’s hellfire.

She let out a deep sigh and sat up. Looking around, she noticed that she was, in fact, on a beach, which explained the sand. The beach was also on fire. Or, at least, the wreckage scattered about the beach was on fire. Tav was almost shielded by the burnt remains of the illithid ship, now sinking into the tide, and she couldn’t help but think the mindflayers could have at least had the courtesy to crash the ship in a way that would’ve protected her eyes from the sun.           

Tav pulled herself to her feet and did her best to brush the sand and dirt from her clothes. Her breastplate was dented but intact, but her leather pants were ripped up and her boots needed a good repair. The tips of her hair were also singed, though she had needed a trim, anyways. After a general once-over, Tav determined that, while she was probably bruised from head to toe and would likely be walking with a limp for the foreseeable future, she had no grave wounds. She channeled some healing magic to patch together a gash on her upper arm, but the effort left her so drained that she didn’t bother with any of the other cuts. Tav knew she needed time and rest for her magic to replenish itself, and she could only hope she wouldn’t be tussling with any mindflayers before she got a nap in.

After gathering some herbs she’d noticed on the shoreline, Tav began the journey forward. She didn’t have a clue where she was but knew answers wouldn’t present themselves if she stayed in one place. However, she didn’t make it far before she stumbled on a familiar figure.

There, sprawled in the sand further up the beach, was Shadowheart. 

Tav jogged forward, hoping she was finding an unconscious ally rather than a dead one, and was relieved when she saw the slow rise and fall of Shadowheart’s chest. As Tav bent down to wake her, she took note of something clasped in the half-elf’s hand. Tav leaned closer to get a better view and realized it was a small, angular object, covered on all sides in what she recognized as gith script, though Tav couldn’t recall if it was of githyanki or githzerai origin. She figured that the object was what Shadowheart had paused to gather from her pod, and while her curiosity tempted her to snatch the artifact, Tav stamped the urge down and instead did gave Shadowheart’s arms a shake.

She woke slowly, grunting at the light much like Tav had, and when her green eyes focused, Tav caught a flash of surprise.

“You’re alive,” Shadowheart said, not sounding fully convinced. “I’m alive. How is this possible?”

Tav shrugged and helped Shadowheart to her feet, watching as she tucked the artifact back into a pocket.            

“Your guess is as good as mine. What matters is that we survived.”

Shadowheart huffed and began to dust off her armor, though the details were still smudged over with grime. “I suppose you’re right. Do you know where are?"

“I was hoping you may have an answer to that,” Tav replied. “I don’t recognize the area, though I haven’t gotten the chance to really look around yet. Maybe we’ll find something familiar.”         

“We?” Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “You want to stay together?”

“It makes the most sense,” Tav said. “We’re both infected and need to find a cure. We stand a better chance surviving out here if we travel together.”

A wry smile crossed Shadowheart’s face, and it was only then, in the light and away from the turmoil of battle, that Tav took note of just how pretty the young woman was.       

“A logical plan. If you hadn’t been running around with that gith, I’d say you were pretty smart.” Tav snorted, but Shadowheart’s words did bring up something she hadn’t noticed yet.

“Speaking of, where is she? I saw you fall off the ship but I lost sight of her.”

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Shadowheart said. “She wasn’t going to spare the energy to help me, so I won’t spare any energy on her.” Something flashed in Shadowheart’s eyes and she seemed to hesitate slightly before continuing. “On that note, I did want to thank you for that. Staying behind to free me. You didn’t have to, and it would’ve honestly been the smart move to save yourself instead of risking your neck for a stranger, but you did anyways. I’m grateful for that.”     

Tav smiled and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind a pointed ear.

“I wouldn’t have just walked away and let you die. I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself if I did.”

“Not many people would’ve shared that sentiment,” Shadowheart mused, and Tav couldn’t help but wonder if Shadowheart counted herself amongst that crowd. “Regardless of your reasoning, you saved my life. I won’t forget that.” 

Before Tav could say anything, Shadowheart looked around the beach and let out a deep breath.     

“Well, enough with the heart-to-hearts. We’re losing daylight. We should find somewhere to make camp for the night.”

Tav looked towards the horizon and noticed Shadowheart was right. With how low the sun was, she figured they maybe had a few hours before dark. In unfamiliar territory, Tav didn’t relish the idea of getting caught in the wilds when the sun went down. 

“Agreed. Let’s get moving, then.”   

The pair began moving up from the beach towards the tree line, taking note of a large stone door that appeared to lead into some kind of temple, but it was locked and neither could pick it, so they continued on. Tav said a small prayer to herself every time they passed the body of someone who had clearly been caught in the crash, which earned her a look from Shadowheart every time.

“You’re a cleric too, aren’t you?” Tav asked, to which Shadowheart nodded. “So then you know it is only natural to want to lay the dead to rest.”

Shadowheart paused a moment, pursed her lips, and said nothing.    

As they passed through the smoldering remains of the illithid vessel, Tav attempted to make small talk, but the conversation was stilted, with Shadowheart seemingly uncomfortable discussing herself. When Tav had pressed on which deity Shadowheart served, she had clammed up, stating that it was a private matter. Tav attempted to ease her worries by affirming her own worship of Lathander, but that only seemed to make Shadowheart more wary. After taking care of a few rogue intellect devourers in the wreckage and picking over the bodies, Tav began to run down a list of patrons in her head that would’ve commanded such secrecy. Kelemvor wasn’t off the table—given how nobody was particularly eager to befriend someone that hung out in cemeteries all day, Tav wouldn’t be surprised if Shadowheart wanted to keep that to herself—or perhaps her god was simply less popular. Loviatar, perhaps? Or Mask, maybe, though Shadowheart didn’t seem like much of a thief.

While Tav was pondering, she watched Shadowheart reach down into the pockets of a corpse and retrieve a piece of fabric, which she used to begin wiping down her armor. In the sunlight, Tav caught a glimpse at the front of Shadowheart’s breastplate. Blazoned right in the center was a large black circle decorated with golden arches almost resembling a setting sun. It wasn’t familiar to Tav, though as she began to take notice of Shadowheart’s other accessories, namely those revolving around more big black circles, a sick feeling curled up her spine. Shadowheart couldn’t be…could she?

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk or will you actually do something useful in the near future?”                   

Shadowheart’s quip broke Tav out of her train of thought. She blinked and smiled up at Shadowheart but could feel that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sorry, I…I think the tadpole is eating at my brain.”    

Shadowheart didn’t look entirely convinced but seemed not to care about what had caused Tav’s lapse in focus, since she just shrugged and hopped down from the ledge she’d been on.

“Alright, but if you plan on dying a horrible death, please do so from a safe distance away. I’ve fought enough mindflayers for one day.” 

Tav laughed. It didn’t shake the worry and suspicion that had started brewing in her stomach.

After looting what parts of the ship they could access, the pair started up a small cliff only to come across a large sigil sputtering against the side of the mountain. They glanced at each other before raising their hands and creeping closer, ready with magic if the situation called for it. Tav moved right to the front of it, while Shadowheart stayed further back. When Tav gave her a look, she said, “In case you need backup, of course,” accompanied by a wry smile. Tav curled her lip, but wasn’t able to say anything in response, as it was at that moment when a hand suddenly shot from the depths of the sigil. She yelped and stumbled back and the hand and its accompanying arm began to wave erratically.

“Hello?”

A voice called out, seemingly from deep within the rune itself. Tav approached, head tilted in curiosity, watching the hand move.

“Some help? For a wizard in need?"

Tav turned to look at Shadowheart, who seemed just as confused, before looking back at the hand.

"Are you okay?” she called, at a loss for what else to say.

“I assure you I will be, once a potentially kind soul helps me out of my current predicament!” the voice yelled back, sounding far more chipper than Tav would’ve expected for someone apparently stuck in a mountain.

She gave the rune a look and reached out with her own magic, asking Lathander for his guidance to lead her around the spell and calm its wrath. She followed his direction until she felt confident to raise her hands and began to channel a countercharm. Tav watched the jagged edges of the sigil begin to soften, and from inside, she heard the voice call out again.

“Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s doing the trick! A good tug should do it now."      

Tav grabbed the hand and, with Shadowheart behind gripping her shoulders, began to pull backwards. She could feel the sigil fighting back until, with a pop, its power sizzled out, and the pair fell backwards as the individual inside the rune sprang loose. Shadowheart stumbled away, but Tav landed in a heap—for the third time that day, she snarked to herself—with the stranger on top of her. She looked up and met the very surprised gaze of a man, who immediately began to stutter.

“Oh! By the Weave, I am so sorry, that was most unbecoming of a gentleman, I apologize, my lady.” He continued to ramble as he stood, reaching down to help Tav up in a reversal of their previous position.

“Really, I don’t normally tackle people who save my life by way of thanks. Not that my life is often in need of saving, mind you, I promise I am not some wayward adventurer, I’m just a humble wizard who got themselves into a spot of trouble with an errant group of illithid, and, well, we can all see how that went—”

Tav glanced over at Shadowheart, who looked like she really wished they had just ignored the rune, before turning back and holding up her hands.

“Hey!”

The man clamped his jaws shut, and Tav noticed a blush high on his cheeks. Whether out of embarrassment or from their earlier close proximity, she had no clue.

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously, it isn’t a big deal.”   

A smile broke out onto the man’s face, deepening the lines around his eyes and lips. He was handsome, in a scholarly sort of way, with dark hair curling around curved human ears and bright brown eyes indicative of all overly curious wizards.

“Oh, I think rescuing a rather unlucky wizard is a rather big deal, actually. But,” he held up his hands, “I can assure you that I am most grateful for your kindness. I just wish I had something in the way of thanks.”

Tav smiled. This man was odd, even for a wizard.

“Thank me by explaining how you wound up in that stone. Not a normal location to find someone.”

“A most unusual circumstance, to be certain,” he replied. “One in a long series of most unusual circumstances I have experienced today.” He raised a brow. “Circumstances I believe all three of us share? I saw you. On the mindflayers’ ship, I mean.” 

Tav glanced at Shadowheart, who very clearly did not want anything to do with the current situation, and realized she was going to have to do the talking.

“Yes, we were both on the ship, along with a gith woman who seems to have been lost in the crash.”            

The wizard’s eyes widened.

“So it was a gith attack that brought the ship down? I had my suspicions, but…” He trailed off before shaking his head. “Anyways, it was a tumble out of that ship that put me in the situation where I needed to find a way to spare myself the particularly quick death I was facing as the ground approached. When I sensed the magic in that stone, I reached out, hoping to slow my fall, which I was successful in doing so, at the cost of sending myself across the Weave and into the stone itself.” He shrugged. “Magic, eh? Never know where it will take you.                         

"But, sudden real life applications of the forces of gravity aside, since we were all unwilling passengers on the nautiloid, I imagine all three of us were at the receiving end of a spontaneous and unwanted insertion in the ocular region?”

It took a moment for Tav to decipher what on earth the man had just said, but when she did, she grimaced.        

“If you mean the tadpole, then yes. I take it you got one too?”               

The man smiled, but there wasn’t much mirth behind it.               

“Indeed. As much as I love getting firsthand experience with the lesser-known cultures of Faerûn, I can say this was one encounter I would have rather avoided. Are you aware of the…eh, shall we say violent conclusion such an infection brings?”     

Tav’s scowl deepened.

“Unfortunately. We have days, a week at best, before we’re mindflayers ourselves.”      

“Right you are,” the man responded. “Now, I can’t help but notice you bear the symbol of Lathander,” he pointed to the center of her breastplate where the Morninglord’s sun blazed, “which leads me to hope that you are perhaps a cleric skilled in the ways of much needed cerebral surgery?”        

“You seem to know enough about our condition to know that we’ll need more than a cleric to solve this problem,” Shadowheart suddenly butted in. The man gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“No harm in asking, I suppose.”

"Well, we were on our way to find some kind of civilization,” Tav said. “Since we’re all in the same boat, do you want to tag along?”

At the same moment, the man’s face split into a broad grin as Shadowheart scowled deeply.

“I did not want to impose on your hospitality—”            

“Then don’t,” Shadowheart muttered, to which Tav shot her a glare.

“—but I must admit I was rather worried I was going to have to figure this out on my own. It is a great relief to have found allies in arms. Or, tentacles, perhaps.”

Tav rolled her eyes and watched Shadowheart do the same before smiling.

“Great. I’m Tav, this is Shadowheart. And you are?”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Oh goodness, where are my manners?” He thrust out his hand. “Gale of Waterdeep, at your most grateful service.”                      

“Waterdeep?” Tav said as she shook the wizard's hand. “That’s where I’m coming from.”

"Ah!” Gale responded, his face bright, clearly happy to have someone else from his city nearby. “A resident of the Spires of the Morning, I take it? A beautiful temple indeed. Once, when I was a young and rather unwise student at Blackstaff, I spent the festival of Sornyn within those walls, and, well, perhaps got a little too indulgent in the celebrations, and…”

Gale continued to recount stories from his time at Blackstaff as the trio resumed the trek up the mountain.     

“Are you just going to pick up every stray we come across?” Shadowheart hissed out the corner of her mouth as Gale suddenly switched from stories about his student days to ruminations on illusion magic. Tav let a smile cross her features.

“I picked you up, didn’t I?"          

Shadowheart opened her mouth, probably to bite out a reply, but found no words, causing Tav to laugh.           

“Besides,” she continued, “a wizard is always useful to have around.” She glanced behind her, where Gale continued to ramble seemingly without the knowledge that he had no real audience. “Lack of social skills notwithstanding.”     

Shadowheart huffed. “Fine, but the moment a fireball gets too close to my eyebrows, I’m putting him back in that stone.”

Tav had rejoined Gale’s one-sided conversation about Waterdeep when, about half an hour of walking later, the sun now hanging low on the horizon, Shadowheart suddenly stopped up ahead of them and held up a hand.   

“Hold on,” she called back. “Someone’s up ahead.”          

Tav jogged up to Shadowheart, Gale hanging back with a quick excuse that he was the only one of them without armor or a big threatening weapon, and looked over her shoulder.        

Shadowheart was right. Further up the road, a lone figure stood in front of a few broken illithid pods. All she could make out from a distance was a deep maroon overcoat and a shock of white hair.

“Everything look alright?” Gale called, which apparently drew the stranger’s attention. The figure turned, causing Shadowheart to grumble.

“Great. Now we have to talk to him.”

“Maybe he’s another survivor?” Tav mused.

“Or maybe he’s a petty thief hoping to make a quick payday."

Tav sighed. “Only one way to find out.”    

Her grip tightened on her mace and she began to cross the gap between her and the stranger. Behind her, she heard Gale talking to Shadowheart.                      

“A rather brave soul, that one.” 

“You call it bravery. I call it idiocy.” 

“I’ve found the two often work hand in hand.”                           

Tav was too far away to hear Shadowheart’s inevitably rude reply.

As she got closer, she was able to make out more details of the stranger. He was a man, slightly shorter than both Shadowheart and Gale but taller than her without including her horns, with prominent elven ears poking out from beneath curly white hair. He was dressed in well-made clothes, complete with a ruffled collar and elegant belt, leading Tav to wonder if she’d stumbled across a hapless patriar.                 

“You there!” he called. Gods, even his accent was posh.

“Yes?” Tav replied, stopping once she was close enough to talk without yelling but not so close he could reach out and grab her if he felt inclined to. “What’s wrong?”

The elf gestured into the grass. “I’ve got one of those wretched brain things cornered in the brush, but I don’t have anything to kill it with. I hoped you may be a fair bit more capable than me.”      

“What’s going on?”

Tav turned to see Shadowheart and Gale approaching.

“He says there’s an intellect devourer in the grass. Must’ve escaped the crash.”

“Ah!” Gale said, a slight wince to his features. “Nasty things, intellect devourers. It’s said the greater the intelligence of a person, the more intellect devourers are drawn to feast.”

“Sounds like you won’t be having much trouble, then,” Shadowheart replied, earning an immediate stutter from Gale. Before they could bicker, Tav turned back to the elf, who was watching with a mix of amusement and confusion.

“Let me handle this."

She stepped forward, keeping a close eye on the man as he flashed her a charming grin and extended his arms in a mock bow. This close, with the setting sun shining directly on them, Tav got a better look at him. Unlike Gale, who was attractive in the same way that old libraries were—warm and comforting with an air of refinement earned with age—the elf was every bit a stereotypical lady-killer. Strong jaw, sharp nose, high cheekbones. He was a handsome man who clearly knew it, radiating confidence and oozing charisma. It was almost enough to distract her from his eyes.     

Tav stuttered in her steps when she met his gaze. It was piercing like the rest of him, but far from the usual greens or blues she’d expect from an elf. In the sun, his eyes were like wine, deep rich red. It was enough to make her heart stumble, but not from attraction or even arousal. Not when she was certain she caught a glimpse at a sharp tooth between his full lips.

“Losing your nerve, darling?” His voice was low, layered with a charm Tav knew was meant to ease her mind, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that had shot up her spine. All her training under her Dawnmaster, learning to spot the enemies of the Morninglord, telling her to be on her guard. There was a prickle behind her heart, and she almost let her instincts convince her that she was looking at a beast. But the sun was up, and the elf was standing directly in its light. She blinked. False alarm.

“No, of course not.” She stepped forward, shaking the feeling of everything she’d ever learned at the Spires crawling up her spine and nudging the parasite aside to scream into her ear that there was something wrong here—

A rustle in the bushes, and a boar sprinted out from the foliage. Tav let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and suddenly there was a knife at her throat and she was being pulled into the dirt.   

She saw both Shadowheart and Gale’s hands raise, fire blazing at the tips of their fingers, as the elf clutched her close to his chest, the silver of his blade digging into her scars.       

“Don’t move,” he hissed into her ear. “We don’t want to mark up that pretty neck of yours, now do we?"

“Watch yourself,” she heard Shadowheart call. “You’re outnumbered.”

“And I have your friend at knife point,” the elf responded. “You’ll stay back if you want her blood to stay inside her veins.”

Tav’s brain finally caught up with her. She shook herself and heard the elf bickering with Shadowheart and Gale. Her horns dug into the ground, her tail pinned beneath their combined weight. Tav scowled to herself. She was really off her game today. Even if the elf wasn’t what she thought he was, he still had a blade to her throat, and that made him a threat regardless.

She threw her head to the side while the elf was distracted with her companions and her horns collided with his chin. He hissed, and she took his moment of distraction to slip loose, coming to her feet with hands outstretched. She let holy fire spring to her fingertips despite how low her reserves were running. She really needed a nap.

The elf sprang up to mirror her, his knife clutched in his hands and his pretty face marred by a scowl.

“No weapon, huh?” Tav quipped, nodding to the blade. “If you wanted to rob us, you’re off to a bad start.” The elf’s expression went darker and she watched him squeeze the handle of his dagger.

“Don’t play games with me, tiefling” he growled, and once again Tav was sure she saw pointy teeth. “I saw you on the ship. Walking about without a care in the world. What did you do to me?” 

“What did I do?” Tav balked. “Do I look like a mindflayer? I was abducted just like you. Infected with one of their tadpoles.”           

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed back.                                      

“Do you really want me to answer that?” she responded with a smile.

Before he could snap back, the pain she was becoming begrudgingly familiar with flared up. She saw streets illuminated by streetlamps, the flash of sultry smiles. There were sheets under her hands twisted in ecstasy, lips against her neck, and...

Fear. So much fear that it was clogging her throat. A light against her eyes, terror in her heart, a pair of red eyes, the glint of something sharp—      

The connection severed and Tav was back in her own mind. She looked up and met the confused gaze of the elf.               

“What…what in the hells was that?” he said.

“The tadpole. It’s what the illithids put in our heads,” she replied. “It connects our brains, lets us see into each other’s minds.” 

The elf took a moment, staring at her and clearly wondering if she was telling the truth, but he eventually lowered his knife.              

“Well, that certainly…explains things.” He sniffed. “Is that all these worms do or are there other…side effects that you know of?"

“They are actually the first stage in the illithid life cycle,” Gale piped up from behind her. “Mindflayers require hosts for their larvae, given they do not have the biological requirements for sexual reproduction. After a brief but agonizing gestation period, the host body is consumed and a newborn illithid takes its place.”  

The elf blinked and turned to Tav. She sighed.

“They’ll turn us into mindflayers if we don’t remove them.”         

The man’s pale skin went even paler, and he opened and shut his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Turn us into…?” He cut himself off with a harsh laugh. “Of course they will. Why did I expect anything different?” The elf shook his head and a wry smile crossed his face.     

“And here I was ready to decorate the ground with your insides. Apologies."          

Tav scrunched her nose and nodded, not quite willing to openly forgive him but having no stomach for another fight.             

“So, have you lovely people made any headway in figuring out how to control these things yet?” the elf continued. Tav drew her brows together.

“We need to remove them, not control them.”

The elf rolled his eyes. “Well, yes, obviously, but first things first.” 

Tav looked back at Shadowheart and Gale, who were already looking at her, clearly waiting for her to make a decision. She let a breath hiss through her teeth.     

“We only just got this problem, same as you. We were trying to find some sort of civilization to see if they’ve got a healer that could help, if you…” Tav trailed off, and she could practically feel Shadowheart’s glare against the back of her head. “If you wanted to tag along.” 

Shadowheart sighed.

The elf perked up, clearly pleased and surprised with the turn of events.

“Well, I was ready to go this alone, but who am I to turn down such wonderful company?” The charmer’s smile returned as he lowered into a half bow. “My name’s Astarion.”

“Tav,” she replied. “That’s Shadowheart and Gale.”

“A pleasure to meet your…well-armed acquaintance,” Gale said from behind them.

“Yes, well,” Astarion said, fully tucking away his dagger, “I suppose it is.”

He grinned, wrinkles creasing around his bright red eyes, and Tav was again struck by that feeling in her chest, like her Dawnmaster was somehow yelling at her all the way from Waterdeep that she was missing something. She frowned. Maybe he just had drow somewhere in his heritage. No reason to jump to conclusions.

“Well, that was lovely,” Shadowheart said, sounding like the past fifteen minutes were anything but, “though I feel the need to remind everyone that we are on a rather tight schedule and we’re running out of daylight. Shall we continue, or are there any more wayward vagabond you plan to pick up?”

“Vagabond?” Astarion gasped. “I am no such thing. Merely a simple bastard.”

Tav shook her head and turned the way they had been heading.

“Yes, let’s keep moving. We don’t want to find out what sort of monsters are out here at night.”

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Astarion when she said that. He responded only with another salacious grin as the group began their journey again.

Tav mentally kicked herself. She’d been hoping for vampires all day. And as she looked up at Astarion’s back, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she’d finally gotten her wish.

Break of Dawn: Chapter 1 (Astarion x Tiefling! Tav)

A/N: Ahhhh okay first ever fic posted here. Yes, it's 5k words. I only somewhat promise future chapters won't be so long, but idk we'll see. This is a fic idea I've had bouncing around for awhile and I've finally gotten around to writing it! My inbox is always open for feedback, especially if you notice any weird formatting errors since I'm not super familiar with tumblr's layout yet. I hope you all enjoy the first chapter of my special little baby :)

Summary: Tav, a cleric of Lathander, finds herself as the unfortunate recipient of a mindflayer tadpole with limited time to cure herself. She finds help in a group of fellow infected and mildly insane individuals, including a vampire who takes every opportunity to drive her up the wall. A vampire she's totally not falling in love with. Between cults, the literal gods of death, and the looming threat of turning into a mindflayer, Tav has to navigate both the end of the world and her increasingly complicated feelings for a creature she's pretty sure she's sworn to kill.

What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: None in this chapter I don't think? But expect a lot of smut, trauma, and canon-typical violence down the line.

Dividers from @saradika

It was the headache that woke her. The pounding, throbbing pain in the front of her skull that threatened to seep into her veins and drain her strength. Tav shook her head, attempting to clear the dull ache, but only succeeded in making herself exceptionally dizzy. She was upright, that much she could tell, but it didn’t feel like she was propped against a wall or a bedpost. The surface against her back felt oddly…wet? Fleshy, almost. Tav could feel her horns scraping into something unsettlingly soft. Gods above, she hoped she wasn’t in a bathroom. That would be a new low for her, waking up in some muggy stall with who-knows-what seeping into her clothes. Every twitch of her fingers and toes brought a new wave of subtle nausea into her bones. 

Where was she?

The last thing Tav remembered was the ratty pub in Daggerford, stuffed elbow-to-elbow with farmers so drunk they couldn’t even bring themselves to care about the strange tiefling in their midst nursing a bottle of the sourest wine this side of the Dalelands. The clerics at the Morninglow Tower, the only Lathandarian monastery in the area and her main reason for stopping in Daggerford in the first place, had assured her that the Happy Cow was the best inn the city had to offer, but if her frazzled mind could remember anything, it was the swill in her glass and the grouchy halfling behind the bar.  

Why was she in Daggerford again?

The more Tav sat, trying to remember and simultaneously suppress the urge to vomit, the more the details came back to her. A summons to Baldur’s Gate, one that had been dispatched to the Dawnmaster of her monastery from a group of Selunites just outside of Rivington. Something about an increase in activity from a suspected group of Sharrans nestled within the Gate, a fear that the fanatics of the Nightsinger were planning something. A cry for help to any nearby allies of the Moonmaiden, a cry that reached as far north as Waterdeep, just for insurance in the event of an open conflict. Her Dawnmaster had selected her and only her to make the long journey south. Handpicked amongst hundreds to go alone to the Gate with little explanation why. A test of faith, she was told, despite her record of loyalty to Lathander. It was that loyalty that drove her to leave the safety of the Spires and go anyways, that made her push past the doubt, with little more than a traveler’s pack and questions about what exactly she was getting into.

Tav’s eyes were blurry when she opened them and she barely got a moment to assess the thick glass panel in front of her before it lifted away suddenly. She had a heartbeat to throw her arms out to catch her fall, though it did little to stop the shock and pain arching from her head down to the tip of her tail. She laid there on the ground, in a heap, trying to catch her breath, and was able to string enough of a thought together to realize it was probably the least dignified position she had ever been in.

Morninglord, help her.

Tav pushed herself onto her elbows and gave her surroundings a gander. The room was large and domed, with arcing metal ribs supporting the ceiling. Or what was left of it. Because, as she quickly realized from both the heat and her clearing vision, the room was positively ablaze. A shudder ran down her spine as she attempted to make out details past the gray smoke. Her scars prickled, and she had to double check to make sure she wasn’t on fire.

More memories. The thick air in the tavern, sweaty arms and faces and hands intruding into her personal space. The foul wine in her throat. The need to fill her lungs with something that wasn’t flavored with dwarf musk. Cool night air against her skin when she’d stumbled out of the pub, pulling her robes against her body, the breeze filling her chest. Flashes of suspicious looks from the locals on the streets, like she was a proper devil and not just a tiefling. Another breath in her lungs, soothing the burn that the tavern air had left on her throat.

Then there was screaming.

Quick, high-pitched. A moment to spin and try and assess the situation. Something black, blacker than the night sky, against the horizon, moving towards the city. A writhe of tentacles against the stars, a prayer to Lathander to lend her strength for what was to come, and then…nothing. She remembered heat against her skin, light against her eyes, and now she was laying in a burning room with the biggest headache of her life.       

Had her drink been spiked?

No, because now she remembers the mindflayers. Great ugly beasts looming outside the pod she’d just faceplanted out of. A bit of green skin a few pods down from hers, something small and pulsating in one of the illithid’s taloned hands. Then, the mindflayer rounding on her, holding up a wriggling worm with a circular mouth and too many teeth. She remembers the terror and the pain as the larva was held up to her eye. The ache as it found its target and slithered its way into her skull.

She took her studies at the monastery seriously. Lathander valued a sharp mind, and while he mostly called his followers to hunt undead monstrosities, she made it a point to familiarize herself with all manner of beasts and devils. Mindflayers were a rare threat, mostly occupying themselves with the Outer Planes in their eternal grapple against the gith, but they were important enough for the temple library to have a whole section dedicated to illithid and their ilk. She knew what had happened—what the squirming tadpole pushing into her brain meant about her current condition—and she knew her days were now decidedly numbered.

There was a pulse inside her head, a wriggle behind her eye, and Tav wished it had just been vampires instead. At least then the silver dust in her pocket and the holy water against her hip would have done her some good. With a groan, she rose to her feet, careful to keep her tail above the hot metal floor, and stumbled past the burning remains of the room around her, unhooking her mace from her back as she did. She noticed a few splayed mindflayer corpses, tentacles like wet pipes against her ankles as she slipped past, and wondered again what had caused the destruction. Tav was almost certain she was either in one of their colonies or on a ship, and the thought occurred to her that it was entirely likely she had been sucked into the middle of the war between the illithids and the gith. It was simply a question of which subset of the gith population she would potentially have to deal with in an escape. Githzerai were dangerous but reasonable and could maybe be swayed to help if Tav proved she was no threat. The githyanki were a different story, and she hoped she wasn’t bearing witness to one of their raiding parties, but she got the sneaking suspicion that her luck was poor on that front. Their red dragons would certainly explain the fire.

The next room was in less disarray, the flames having smoldered out to leave ash in their wake, and Tav noticed a large tear in the far wall, framed by daylight streaming in from the outside. Her heart leapt at her sign of freedom, but an uneasy shiver went through her at the sight of the tables lining the walls, topped by corpses. She gritted her teeth and sent a silent prayer to the less fortunate of the mindflayers’ abductees, followed by a reassurance to herself that she would not be joining them. On her way towards the makeshift exit, she bent and rummaged through the robes of a fallen mindflayer, gathering the assorted coins and gemstones she found, and hoped the souls of the victims appreciated her pettiness towards their killers.

As she straightened up to continue forward, the sound of something skittering, not unlike a rat inside a wall, drew her attention. Tav watched as a trio of creatures resembling brains on four legs pushed past a fallen piece of metal and scurried back the way she had come. She recognized them as intellect devourers, aberrations that served in the collective illithid hivemind. Her eyes followed the creatures as they left and couldn’t decide if she was more surprised or grateful that they hadn’t noticed her. Tav simply shook her head, deciding it didn’t matter, and made her way towards the exit.

The hope that had sprung in her heart at the chance of escape was squashed, however, when Tav managed to push through the wreckage and make her way to the gap in the ship’s hull. It became clear that, although there was heat radiating into the room from the opening, it did not come from a familiar sun. Instead, Tav saw only a scarlet horizon, the ground rushing past far below, and swarms of winged imps and devils thrashing in the air. There was a tingle down her spine, like her infernal heritage recognized the bloody skies of the Hells, and Tav cursed her increasingly sour luck. Of all the places she could have wound up, Baator would not have been high on her list. What she had done to get so far off track from her mission, Lathander only knew.

Tav was starting to wonder how she was ever going to escape the Hells and a burning illithid ship—because it had to be a ship, given how far she was off the ground and the speed at which they were moving—when she watched as, from underneath the vessel, a flash of crimson cut against the sky. A red dragon, flames billowing from its gaping jaws, curved against the shape of the aircraft, directed by the speck of a gith rider against its back. In her shock, she nearly dropped her mace—not helped by her sweaty palms—and Tav held her empty hand up to block the burn of the fire when the beast let loose a column of flame to beat back a horde of devils swarming the ship. She knew for a fact now that this had to be a githyanki raiding party, tracking an illithid vessel across the planes atop the backs of their red dragons. Tav was just unlucky enough to be caught in the middle with an unwelcome stowaway tagging along for the ride.

Before Tav could come up with a plan to escape the current predicament, an arc of silver crested over her head as a figure leapt from above, and she suddenly found herself face to face with a gith woman, dark hair and green skin made even more sharp against the red sky, covered in ash from head to toe. And while Tav only knew of the githyanki from her studies, she did not need books to identify the rage in the woman’s eyes and the greatsword the gith was pointing at her throat.

“Abomination,” the woman growled, leveling her blade until the tip was grazing the dip between Tav’s collarbones. “This is your end!"

Tav was just raising her hands to explain as fast as she could that she posed the warrior no threat when a sudden discomfort split her skull, almost like it was emanating outwards from the tadpole lodged in her brain. Tav did not recall closing her eyes, but it was like she was now in a dream, or recalling some distant memory that was not her own, as she watched the scales of a red dragon undulate over solid muscle, the glint of sunlight off a silver sword. Her ears were filled with the sound of clanging steel, her shoulders dipped beneath the weight of heavy armor. As quick as they came, the visions dissipated, and Tav blinked away the fogginess to see the gith woman clutching her skull, and Tav realized with a jolt that she had just taken a peek inside the woman’s mind, witnessed her memories, which likely meant the connection had been two way. The soldier drew her brows as she shook her head against an apparent pain, before looking up and meeting Tav’s gaze again.

“What…what is this?” she hissed, more to herself than to Tav. A dozen emotions crossed the gith’s face—confusion, discomfort, anger—before settling on what Tav hoped was happiness. “You are no thrall,” the warrior said. Tav watched as, thankfully, the woman lowered her blade and sheathed it against her back. “Vlaakith blesses me this day!”

Tav kept her hands raised, ready to channel Lathander’s dawn if needed, but took a cautious step towards the gith as she said, “A thrall? Like a mindflayer’s servant?”

One of the gith’s eyebrows raised, clearly surprised Tav was at least familiar with illithid.

“The very same. We are fortunate we retain our senses.”

“But I’m infected,” Tav said, and she suddenly remembered the look she’d gotten from inside her pod. Green skin a few spaces down and a flash of dark hair. She realized it must’ve been the woman before her that had been imprisoned, as well. Tav drew her brows together. “And so are you, aren’t you? Given that look I just got inside your head.”

The gith scoffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She started to turn like she intended to walk away.

“Yes, we both carry ghaik tadpoles. But for now, we have our wits, and I intend to keep them.” She glanced over, eyes trailing up and down Tav’s figure, before continuing. “You are a cleric, yes? An experienced one, from what your memories told me. You may have your uses. Come, we must make haste to the helm.”

The gith did not wait for a reply as she began to walk away. Tav stood, slightly dumbfounded, and watched the gith make confident strides down the wrecked platform they stood on.

“Wait!” she called when her brain finally caught up with what was going on. The gith stopped and turned, irritation spiking her gaze when she saw that Tav had not moved. “That’s it, then? We just team up and move on like we weren't in each other's minds?"

The warrior huffed, saying something in her language under her breath.

“What just happened to us will not matter if we die on this ship. I intend to escape and make my way back to my people. Your best hope of survival is to follow me. Unless your god commands you to burn to a crisp here?”

Deep in the Hells, Tav’s connection to Lathander was flimsy, but she could hazard a guess that he did not, in fact, want her to die here. And for as much as she would love to not owe her life to a bloodthirsty githyanki, Tav had enough common sense to know her options were slim at best. So, with a huff, she tightened her grip on her mace and followed the gith.

“I’m Tav, by the way,” she called up to the woman. She received no response. Tav sighed. “Nice to meet you, too.”

The next room crawled with around half a dozen invading imps, the tiny beasts gnawing at the corpses of both illithid and the poor souls that had been abducted, but their attention was quickly drawn when Tav and the gith made their way in. Tav had barely blinked before the warrior had notched an arrow into her longbow and sent it flying into the neck of one of the imps, and Tav managed to eliminate another with a burst of holy flame from the tips of her fingers. The remaining imps screeched and began to flap towards them, but failed to do any damage before the two of them brought them down with a mix of arrows, steel, and magic.

“You are quite adequate in battle,” the gith remarked as she pulled her arrows from the twisted corpses. “Perhaps our odds are not so poor.”

Tav bent to collect a crossbow from one of the imps, figuring a ranged weapon would come in handy, and replied, “You aren’t too bad yourself.” What was meant to be a compliment was clearly received differently when the gith’s expression somehow got sourer, her eyes squinting in a harsh glare.

“I am githyanki. If you think I cannot handle imps, then you are more uneducated than I thought.”

Tav opened and closed her mouth, attempting to stutter out that she had meant no offence, but the gith had already moved on to the next room. With a sigh, Tav followed, wishing more than ever it had just been vampires instead.

By the time Tav caught up to the soldier, the woman had nearly spanned the entire length of the room, which Tav noticed was empty save from a ring of what looked to be stretchers in the center, each holding an unresponsive body, and a pod against the far wall. Upon closer inspection, Tav’s heart dropped when she realized there was someone inside. She jogged up to the prisoner and saw the vague features of a woman inside banging against the glass. 

“Hey!” the woman yelled, fingers clawing at the walls of her prison. “Hey, get me out of here!"

“Don’t worry,” Tav replied as she began to look over the pod for any sort of latch that might open it, “I’m not leaving you behind.” She turned to look at the gith, who was already at the far end of the room. “Help me out here!” she called.             

The gith turned, her eyes narrowing when she saw what Tav was doing.

“I do not intend to stop for every prisoner we come across. We must reach the helm if we hope to escape.” Tav scowled.

“The more help, the better,” she responded. “I’m not abandoning anyone.”

The gith scoffed and said something in a language Tav did not know and walked back over to where she was now pouring over the panel next to the pod.  

“Do you truly mean to die for a stranger?” the gith growled. Tav ran her hands over the console, picking at the depths of her memories to recall any illithid sigils she might know.

“Nobody is dying today,” Tav said. With a huff, she resigned herself to the fact that she was a poor student of illithid script and had no clue what any of the symbols meant. She thought about asking the gith, but already knew the soldier would likely be no help. Tav felt the humming of magic around the console, and she winced when the tadpole in her brain seemed to squirm in response. That caused a thought to pop into her head, and she focused her mental energy on the worm. If anything could help her understand the mindflayers’ language, it was one of their young.

It was like grabbing a fish in a river the way the tadpole slipped about her mind’s grasp, but at last she got a hold on the parasite and forced it to yield. With what felt like a click inside her mind, the tadpole obeyed, and the console in front of her roared to life. Tav’s next thought was how she was supposed to use the panel to open the pod, but it was like the mere idea itself made the console obey, and the pod suddenly snapped open. Tav had just enough time to step in front and catch the woman inside before she had a similar landing against the floor like Tav experienced earlier.   

The pair stumbled, but Tav helped the woman right herself. She was taller, with dark hair braided down her back and deep green eyes framed by a scar across the bridge of her nose beneath a blunt fringe. Tav noticed the tips of pointed ears poking from her hair, but the woman did not have the typical angular features of a full elf, meaning she must only be half elven. Her silver armor was covered in soot, but it was clear that beneath the dirt her plate was well cared for.

Tav lifted her arms and let the woman step back. The half-elf shook her head, black hair swinging about her face as she raised a hand to her forehead.

“Thank you,” she said. “I thought that damned thing was going to be my coffin."

Tav only had time for a nod before a now-familiar pain burst behind Tav’s eyes, and once again she found herself in someone else’s brain. Unlike the gith, the half-elf’s memories were like murky water, swirling around inside her mind without any clear features. The only thing Tav picked up on with clarity was a spark of suspicion—aimed at the gith standing beside her. Just as quick as their minds linked, the connection snapped.

The half-elf drew her brows together, confusion marring her features.

“It’s the tadpole,” Tav said before the woman could voice her obvious question. “You’re infected with one, same as we are.” She gestured to the gith, who did not even look remotely happy at the turn of events. “They let our minds connect.”           

“Yes, that much is obvious,” the half-elf replied. Her gaze turned to the gith, and her expression pinched to match the anger on the warrior’s face. “I was not aware Lathander’s clerics kept such strange company."

Tav’s immediate question—how did the woman know she worshipped the Morninglord? —was squashed before she embarrassed herself. The woman had just been inside her head and Tav’s faith was the most important thing she kept in there. Obviously a peek in her skull would show that. Instead, Tav shrugged.

“Strange times require strange company. Besides, we’ll have to fight our way off this ship and an extra sword is always good.” The half-elf raised an eyebrow, but her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I suppose you have a point there.” She turned to look at Tav. “I’m Shadowheart. And you are?"

Tav grinned at the novelty of knowing at least one of her companion’s names.

“Tav. It’s a pleasure.”

The gith suddenly scoffed.

“Are we done with pleasantries? The longer we dawdle the slimmer our chances of escape become.” She didn’t wait for an answer before she made her way back towards the exit.

Shadowheart glared at the gith’s back but said, “She’s right. Lead the way.”

They began to follow where the gith had gone, but Shadowheart suddenly stopped at gripped at her sides like she was feeling for something. She turned back, and Tav watched as she rummaged about inside her pod before pulling something small out and tucking it into one of her pockets, but it was too dark for her to get a good look.

“Everything okay?” Tav asked. Shadowheart laughed dryly.

“I’m trapped on a mindflayer ship with a parasite in my head surrounded by devils and burning wreckage.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and began walking towards the exit the gith had already pushed through. “I’m having the time of my life."

Tav couldn’t help but chuckle and followed close behind.     

The two found the gith standing in front of a closed door, the fleshy material that seemed to line the whole ship pulled into a pinwheel. The soldier turned when they entered and rested a hand on her sword.                

“The helm should be beyond this door. Once inside, do as I say.” 

Shadowheart’s expression darkened. “Who put you in charge?” she snapped. The gith looked like she was about to bite back, so Tav stepped between the two and held out her hands.   

“Now is not the time for arguing. What’s important is that we make it off this ship.” She turned to Shadowheart. “I don’t like it, either, but githyanki are experts on mindflayers. If she says this is how we get out, it’s in our best interests to cooperate.”

“For an istik,” the gith said through a self-satisfied smile, “you are surprisingly competent.”

Tav blinked. “Thank you?”

Shadowheart huffed and shoved past them both. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Tav had hoped that the only thing that stood between them and freedom would be another swarm of imps, but as they entered the helm of the ship, she was instead immediately reminded that they were still in an active warzone. Mindflayers and devils clashed, tentacles and wings thrashing as each side tried to gain an advantage over the other. Imps and hellboars batted hoards of intellect devourers back, all while the flames licking against the walls climbed higher and higher.

Tav watched as one of the mindflayers wrapped its tentacles around the head of a cambion soldier, and blood sprayed when the illithid dug its teeth into the devil. The creature let the fiend drop and suddenly turned to face them. From the corner of her eye, she watched Shadowheart and the gith ready their weapons, but all three flinched when their tadpoles wriggled about as a voice not belonging to any of them ripped into their heads.     

“Thralls,” the voice boomed, sounding like it came from everywhere around them, “connect the transponders. Take control of the ship.”

Tav watched the mindflayer raise one long-fingered hand and pointed to the front of the room, where a tangled mass of blue tentacles squirmed over a console similar to the one that had opened Shadowheart’s pod. With a jolt, she realized it was the illithid speaking to them, giving orders through the tadpole.   

The gith grunted and raised her sword. “Do as it says. While it thinks we are under its control, we have a chance at escape.”

“It won’t be easy getting to that console,” Shadowheart said. “We’ll need to be—"

She was cut off suddenly as the gith surged forward, sword arcing downwards through a pair of imps that had swarmed an intellect devourer. They watched as the soldier pushed through the fiends before her, grappling with devils like it was nothing.

“—careful,” Shadowheart finished. She turned and looked at Tav, giving a slight shrug as she said, “Guess we follow her, then?”

Tav mirrored her shrug, and they followed the gith into the fray.       

It was tough work pushing to the back of the room. For every imp or cambion that fell from a burst of holy radiance, another devil entered her vision with a raised sword. If it hadn’t been for well-timed arrows from the gith or Shadowheart’s own divine fire, Tav was certain her fortunes would’ve gone sour. In the back of her mind, she made a note to ask who Shadowheart’s patron was. Tav recognized the work of another cleric but couldn’t put her finger on the origin of her magic. It wasn’t the holy fervor her own Lathanderian magic possessed, and wasn’t familiar like the magic of Selunites she’d met in the past, but she figured, so long as it was keeping devils off her back, whichever god was fueling Shadowheart’s spells had Tav’s thanks.

Tav didn’t know how long they had been fending off Avernus’s forces before she looked up and saw an opening. The gith had felled a cambion that had been blocking the way to the helm, but her attention had been diverted by a pair of hellboars. Tav took her chance and broke into a sprint, narrowly dodging the body of a mindflayer that was thrown her way by a cambion before Shadowheart brought it down with a bolt of sickly green necrotic magic. Tav only had a moment to ponder over that—perhaps she was a cleric of Kelemvor? —as she slid to a halt in front of the console.

She let the tadpole guide her hands, following its instincts on which tentacles to grab, but a sudden blast of heat above her drew her attention away. Tav looked up to find the gaze of a great red dragon, its head having pushed past a gap in the ship’s roof. Distantly, she heard the gith yell something, but Tav couldn’t make out the words as she ducked to avoid another column of fire. Her scars prickled against the flames, and she had to push down the hint of panic and rely on her infernal heritage to keep her skin safe from the fire.

The ship suddenly tilted, and Tav’s feet fell from under her as her balance shifted with the new angle. She watched the dragon retreat and forced herself back up, but only had a moment to right herself when another great shudder passed through the ship. As fast as she could, Tav brought together two spindly tentacles. The parasite squirmed about her brain, and she watched through the windows as Avernus’s skyline blurred. She blinked, and where the hellfire had once been there were now stars. She realized they had to be back in the Material Plane, but still very high above ground.

“Again!” she heard the gith yell.

Tav looked over her shoulder to see the soldier now grappling with the mindflayer that had given them orders earlier. Shadowheart was closer to the middle of the room standing off against a trio of imps and a cambion. She met the gith’s eyes and the warrior yelled something about taking control of the ship, but the words were lost in the roil of combat. Tav didn’t need the details, though: she knew they were in a losing fight and were running out of time. So, with a prayer to Lathander she hoped he could hear, she grasped the tentacles again and brought them back together.  

The vessel shuddered again, and Tav lost her grip as the whole ship seemed to invert on itself. Her feet scrambled for purchase but did little good, and she could do nothing but gasp when the room went sideways. In a heartbeat she was suddenly against the far wall, then falling forwards again. She watched the metal siding of the ship splinter and tumble away and she knew that while they may no longer be crashing in the Hells, they were still crashing regardless.

Another yank of gravity and Tav was scrambling for purchase against the floor. She slid back the way she’d come, towards the nose of the ship, and she caught a glimpse of Shadowheart falling through a new hole in the side of the craft. Tav didn’t even have the energy to call out. She could only hope Shadowheart’s god was kind enough to spare her from the fall.

The ship tilted, and Tav realized with a lurch that she was now sliding towards the same gap that Shadowheart had just been flung out of. She only had a moment to grasp the jagged wall to avoid a similar tumble. The wind lashed against her cheeks, sending her hair flying about her face, and it was through the strands that she met the gaze of a mindflayer, slumped against the opposite side of the gash and holding its side. Its eyes were cold and unblinking, and Tav got the distinct sensation of something prodding against the back of her head, but the feeling broke when a piece of debris suddenly hit the side of her skull. It was so abrupt that Tav had no time to regain her slack grip, and before she knew it she felt the wind now pummeling her from all angles.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for her to realize that she was falling. With how her luck had been, Tav wasn’t even surprised. She could only hope that, when she inevitably met the ground, Lathander would spare her a bit of good fortune and keep her from breaking her neck.

Her last thought before things went white was that she really, really just wished it had been vampires instead.

Chapter 19 of "Spawn Me the Details" now online 🥳

In which you find a dead spider, lick it, and get distracted by succubus saliva.

"Spawn Me the Details" on AO3 - Summary

As Astarion is snatched from the streets of Baldur's Gate, another one of Cazador's spawn gets taken. You.It can't have been more than a few months since that fateful night at the tavern, and now you find yourself hiding behind a bush while he gallivants through the forest with his new allies. As the group is passing by, a voice pierces through your mind. Follow them. You need to stay close. It's the last thing you want to do - follow the man who led you to your doom. But it seems like you have no choice in the matter, if that tingle in your brain is anything to go by...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59600707/chapters/152008468

Hope you have as much fun reading as I had writing it. 💕

Give it a read if you're up for vampire shenanigans and emotional damage 😎✨️

[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio] astarion x trans man! reader/tav /// smut, dysphoria comfort, reader's chest is un-described and untouched, reader has a vulva, soft dom top astarion, bottom reader

whenever there's a day when you feel off, wrong, you're hyper aware of your body and how it doesn't feel right to you, he'll notice. perhaps not at first, but the way your posture is different, the way you reject and shy away from his touch, don't flush or scowl at his flirting.

it's late when he decides he has to ask you what's wrong, him not being used to having others to care about, to worry for.

"have i done something wrong?" his voice is quiet and yet it startles you from your thoughts.

"no? no, of course no," guilt festers in you. "i'm sorry."

"there's no need to apologise, darling. as i've been told by someone quite dear to me, there's nothing wrong with not wanting to be touched."

"it's not that. i do, i," you breathe. "i want you to touch me quite badly."

"then i don't understand."

his fingers twitch, wanting to reach for you as your eyes flicker to the mirror across the room.

"when you look at me... what do you see? that is, i mean... you could have anyone you wanted, and i know what you'll say to that. and i believe you. that you want me. i just, sometimes it's hard thinking about the men you've been with, hells just men in general, and then... how they compare to... me. because sometimes, sometimes it's hard to see myself as... as..."

you trail off, aware of your shaking breath, aware of the wetness on your eyelashes, aware that you want to bury yourself against him but find yourself scared.

just as you start to wonder if you've ruined something, his hands hover by your face, not touching, waiting. and so you nod, and his he cups his palms against your cheeks, tilting your head to look at him.

"my sweet boy."

those words and his voice make everything the smallest bit better, you hold back a sob and place your head into the crook of his neck. him calling you a boy both soothing and comforting, but also always slightly arouses you.

"you know i love you? exactly as you are, because of who you are."

"i know."

he raises one of your hands to his lips and kisses it.

"would you let me show you?"

he's not used to being so careful with someone else, not that he hasn't been gentle before but it's never been out of his own desire to cherish the person he's with. but perhaps he can understand, in his own way, feeling disconnected to your own body.

"you're such a handsome man, such a pretty boy. and aren't i ever so lucky. when i was a child i would fantasize about some dashing prince, but i could have never imagined i'd find one like you. you're far lovelier than any dream. you're real. and for some unknown reason managed to see something good in me. you're the most incredible person i've ever met, and i'm going to help you see that."

your shirt stays on if you wish it, as much as he loves every inch of your body, and will continue to regardless of if it stays as it is, or if parts of it change. but he wants you to be comfortable.

he kisses you, trailing down from your lips to your neck, never meaning to get carried away there but always does. you find it hard to mind though as he kisses, teeth nipping but not drinking, leaving faint little marks. he likes leaving marks on you, a reminder that you're here, that you're proud to be with him.

his hands slide down your sides, over your stomach, they pull at the laces of your trousers, sliding them off you legs, leaving your bottom half bare, waiting for his attention.

you flush as he maintains eye contact with you as he slides a hand under your ankle, then down your leg as his mouth moves with it, kissing you calf, next to your knee, up your thigh. and if there's more to grab there, he reveals in it, adoring any curves, your softness. he pauses when he reaches the top of your thigh and chuckles, smirks to himself

"such a sensitive boy, i haven't even touched you anywhere intimate yet and look," you gasped as he glides a couple of fingers between your folds and then holds them up. "already wet for me."

he slides his fingers back against you, teasing around you before thrusting in, curling them upwards as he lowers his head.

"we get be neglecting your cock can we darling? it's straining so hard. and just because it looks different than mine, doesn't make it less of a cock, does it?"

he stays blinking up at you until he realise he wants an answer and you shake your head no.

"good boy, that's right," he purrs and you want to feel condescended, but you just whine, flushing hot, wanting to be good for him, wanting to be his good boy, wanting him to call you that again. "and what shall we do with your pretty cock? shall i suck you off?"

you nod your head, eyes pleading with him and he laughs, not to make fun of you, but because your neediness, your eagerness for him endears him.

"very well then," his lips close around your cock, sucking and suctioning while his fingers continue to stroke inside you, your hands slip into his hair and tug accidentally and he moans around you.

"cheeky boy," he pulls back. "do you wish to come like this or..."

"fuck me," you say, and then. "please? please, astarion, i need you."

astarion always flushes when you tell him you need him. he slides up your body, "i suppose i shouldn't tease, you've been deprived of my touch all week, my poor boy thinking he didn't deserve this. don't worry, i'll fuck you like need."

his cock slips between you, holding you close, kissing your neck, hands stroking your waist as he pushes inside of you,

"that's it, such a good boy. always taking me so well," he loses control of his voice as he fucks you, murmuring praises as his hips snap against you, letting you tug him up to kiss you, pressing one of your hands down into the pillow so he can hold it.

he tells you that you're a good as you both come, he tells you that you're a good boy as you twitch, oversensitive, as he cleans you off, and he tells you that you're a good boy as you drift off in his arms.

Child of the sun, come back

[ascended!astarion x gn!spawn!reader]

You had colorful memories, once: vivid flower fields, triumph smiles, faces that gave you comfort. But now, images of curtains with the sun behind blurred your mind, leaving darkness where color had been, once.

1122words / one shot / angst

note: after years of not writing anything, baldurs gate has inspired me to write just a little bit. ascended astarion has some good angst around him and i love it

There were days spent in the hollow main room, where the curtains protected your being from becoming dust. A lonely chair in front of the window, where just a peek welcomed a ray of the sun to meet the cold room. You just admired it quietly, desiring it to meet your flesh once more; to take you back to who you once were.

Astarion had said something once. He had stayed, observing silently, as if you were going to open the curtains and kiss the sun, leaving to another limbo. You knew it wasn't because he was scared, but everytime you came here, he appeared. Standing near the door where the darkness was, as if he were hiding from the rays of sunlight. He had yearned for them, once. Perhaps its familiarity had bored him.

But then, that company left, and the sun stayed.

“I don't know what's inside that head of yours, darling.”

He could know, but he chose not to.

Quietly watching as you hug your legs, your gaze peeking behind your knees. A ray almost looking magical, sacred. A plea to be touched.

Come back to me, child of the sun.

Child of the sun… you were, once. Someone had called you that, once. Who? You wondered—always did.

Sometimes you caught yourself forgetting memories; where once there were faces with prideful smiles, now rest the images of curtains, and that face, almost proudly, looking back at you with a high face.

Then, you hear it: a melody. Maybe inside your head, but it has been a long time since satisfying music passed through your ears. Closing your eyes, your head moves slightly with the rhythm. This palace had always been silent.

You stood up. Your legs moved by themselves—a curious thing, feeling as if something controlled you. Your hands dance delicately. This time, is enjoyable.

Someone taught you how to dance, once. A warm hand guided your clumsy steps to a magnificent piece. Warm compliments to keep you going. You had fun—you remembered that.

You danced, once. With who?

“You are dancing.”

You stopped, paying full attention to him. The room seemed darker.

“I was.”

Astarion just stared. Observing was one of his favorite pastimes all this eternity. Arms behind him, trying to interpret your curious actions. But then, he holds his hand for you to take.

“Dance with me.” This time it doesn't feel like a command—a request, perhaps. Either way, it required your obedience.

You accepted it, and in an instant, he had a grip on you—his left arm around your waist, his right hand taking your hand higher. A close proximity you expected. This Astarion loved touch—to be close. Weirdly, this grip was soft.

And then, he moved. You are confused by the dance—what was his intention? Slower? Faster? Your clumsiness appeared once more by almost falling, but the vampire’s hands kept you in place. The soft chuckle from Astarion fills your ears, and you feel something you hadn't felt lately—embarrassment.

When was the last time you felt anything, anyway?

“Why the rush, my dear? We just began.” He guided you. Back perfectly still, shoulders impeccably aligned, head high, with eyes staring back at you with a gentleness you didn't recognize. His true intentions were unknown to you. When those scarlet eyes held such tenderness just for you in this present, you didn't know if they were real, or if the meaning behind them was something completely different.

Either way, this mystery game tired you and holds no meaning anymore. Resting your head on his chest, the melody that once was, dissolved, leaving you in a cold silence. The curtains blocked the sun, and the rays of light weren’t as strong as before. Were they afraid, of the dark in the room?

“I was a child of the sun, once.” You muttered more to yourself than to him.

“You were, once.” A different grip—tighter, afraid to let go; or, maybe, caging you to not break the connection. But was it a connection when one line was severed? When the other side was unresponsive?

There was no answer when his response was final. A tone that you use with a child when they should not question further. You are happy without divulging. Ignorance is a bliss. Stay with me. Why do you even think of leaving?

“This is what you wanted—to stay with me.” He reassured, whispering over your ear as he pressed your bodies together.

“Of course I did.” An instant answer. To you, it is a justification for your predicament. To him, it is a decision you made for love. A meaning that both sides had something in common: to stay beside each other for eternity, even if the concept of love was morphed according to whom the person is.

Then, he stopped, and so did you. Opening your eyes, you looked at him, only to see unusual fragility in that crimson. The dance already forgotten; his hand moved to grip your jaw, leaving a gentle kiss. Your eyes flickered to the hidden windows—slightly opened, letting the curtains dance, too.

Strange tenderness. There’s nothing.

He broke the one-sided connection. Crimson eyes wandered your face. “Your meal is soon. I advise you to get ready, my love.” He doesn't leave. He needs an answer.

“Of course.” The response satisfied him, as he freed your jaw from his grip. He takes backwards steps with his arms on his back, observing again. You took the chance to study him, too—exactly the same as you can remember. Curled soft hair, as white as snow; stance looking proudly, But that face…

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Yes.”

Unfortunately, such embrace almost meant nothing. A chore, perhaps; or maybe, a burden only a puppet can keep on doing. The cruelty of it all left hollowness, and even the memories had left you.

The rays of light seemed to exist again once his presence was gone. There's warmth once the sun remembers you, calling what was before your name. To come back to them.

You had a name, back then. Your friends called your name, once. They didn’t erase it. They didn’t call you things you weren't.

The memories belong to the curtains. What you once were, belongs to them now.

You had a reflection. You had warmth. You had mortality. You had the sun. You had him. You had—

You opened the curtain.

The window had no reflection for you.

But it had such a loving embrace you didn’t have in many years.

You came back to me, child of the sun.

Sup Broskis

hiiiii! I might start posting art on here soon, but if you have any ideas, thoughts, suggestions, or criticism, please let me know!!

-batty~ 🦇💯🐄

after reading more recent comments on @sugarplumcutiepie’s post about gender, race, and body inclusivity in reader insert fanfiction, I am genuinely concerned about the amount of people who ignored the entire point they were making. They were not forcing you to do anything, this is the internet, there is a lot of freedom. They were simply communicating that there is a lack of inclusivity and fair representation of poc, people of different body types, and people who aren’t feminine in reader insert fanfiction. To anyone who reads this please read their post and understand they were not trying to force you to do anything, just simply sending a message as am I. I would also like to thank authors out there who write content with all people in mind and included respectfully.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk,

-batty 💕💅🦇

Hello dear friends! ❤🤍🖤💚

🍉I am Mahmoud Ayyad, a Palestinian from the besieged and destroyed Gaza 😭😭, coming from an extended family of young children, women and elderly people ❤❤ who have been suffering😭😭 for 300 difficult days from an aggressive war.

Our lives are harsh because we lack all the basic necessities of life. Everything has become scarce and unattainable. There is no food, no water, no medicine.

So, I ask you to help me keep my family safe and alive, especially after we had lost all our sources of livelihood.Please do not leave my family to struggle and suffer these difficult days alone. You can support my campaign by donating whatever you can or by sharing my posts to reach others who can help us survive the war to safety and peace. You are helping the lives of many people with your small contribution. Every donation makes a difference in our very difficult lives. But this is a legitimate campaign and has been checked by 90-ghost.

https://gofund.me/31c5cbe3

PLEASE REBLOG LIKE SHARE DONATE THIS IS A GENOCIDE PLEASE TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

imagine~

y’know those cute couple shirts? Imagine one vampire themed, I’m thinking Astarion, with a shirt that says “I would only come inside your house with permission” and one saying “your house” 🥺 it feels so on brand.

Batty 💕🦇

imagine (not proof read)

Y’know the fact that humans glow slightly, but we can’t see it? Imagine Astarion, in the underdark, looking over and we’re fucking GLOWING like will solace ass Apollo child glowing. And we don’t notice it but he’s just baffled. idk I might be wrong but this would be a cute fic I feel like 🥺 just him being like “why tf are you glowing” and tav is just like “what in faerun are you on?”

Druids are the most cunning in the camp. They often turn into animals. You can't resist cuddling their cute little faces. They get nose kisses and ear scratches. Sometimes you let them sleep next to you. Everyone else in the camp looks with envy at the arrogant predators who are constantly taking you away.

(Gale will not give up until he has turned over all the libraries of the world in search of a potion or spell that turns a person into an animal. Perhaps he will forget to find a way to get back in advance. But as long as you scratch his cat ears, he won't complain )

Everyone in the camp is ready to fight for the right to go to bed next to you. Hugging your warm body in sleep and listening to your breath. They have fights every damn night. You're so tired of all of them. You just fall asleep, cuddling comfortably with the Owlbear and Scratch while the idiots quarrel

I finally did it! Thanks to everyone who helped me. Commenters gave me wonderful ideas. :3

I remind. My English is terrible. Feel free to correct my mistakes if you wish.

Yandere!Astarion X Reader Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere! tw: obsessive behaviour, yandere thoughts, non-consensual drinking blood, interference in other people's relationships

Astarion leans over your sleeping form and inhales. The sweet smell fills his lungs. He can hear the blood flowing through your veins. He hears your heart beating in your chest. This reminds him of how excited you get when he flirts shamelessly. Astarion runs his cold fingers down your neck. You start to wake up and he is forced to leave.

Shadowheart recoils from the evil vampire. She's a little ashamed that she hurt you. But it's not her fault! You yourself jumped out in front of her during the battle and were hit by a spell. It's just an accident. The girl wanted to heal you, but Astarion suddenly flew into a rage and did not allow her to get closer to you. Shadowheart looked at the man in bewilderment. There was no trace of his usual playfulness left on his face. She decided to retreat. In the end, he will handle such a simple task as applying ointment to your small burn.

Astarion loves it when you describe his appearance and shower him with compliments. However, the hardest part is getting you to start doing it. He's too proud to ask directly. The entire camp sees how needy he can be sometimes. But no one will ever admit it unless they want to die bloodless that night.

You and Gale are standing near the fire and looking at each other. This time the conflict has crossed all boundaries. You sigh in disappointment and ask him to leave the camp. He doesn't argue. This was an obvious result. Astarion will find you a little later to console you. You and Gale didn't get along from the start. Astarion hugs you, hiding a satisfied smile in your hair. Now everything is in the past. No one will remember the phrases spoken by Astarion that sowed mistrust. “He hides too much. It’s dangerous to trust him.” "They would kill you if you were even the least bit useless." “He has no right to demand that you solve his problems, especially in such a tone.” “Hi, Gail. I think they almost told the Followers of the Absolute about you today.”

Astarion successfully repelled an attack that you did not notice. Having dealt with the enemy, he looks at you. You look tired. You can barely stand on your feet and hold your weapon with a trembling hand. You no longer have the strength to pretend to be healthy. Astarion then says that you both need to go back to rest. You complain of itchy bite scars. "It won't heal." Astarion looks at the fresh scars from last night. You don't need to know that he is eating more often than you allow him to. The vampire says casually, “Your body must just be weak from illness.” Astarion takes you in his arms. You try to weakly resist, but you both understand that it’s faster. You fall asleep on his shoulder. Man inhales your scent. Astarion really wants to bite you again, but he restrains himself. Eventually he will have to give you a break or you will die.

I'd like to write some headcanons yandere Astarion. But i need help. Does anyone have any idea? Please share this with me :3

My Tavs Gotta Gun!

I had a shower thought, basically, does Baulders Gate have guns?!? Turns out not really??? Here's Astarion living under a rock bc... ✨Cazador✨ and learning what guns are.

You sit quietly under the dim firelight at camp, polishing your firearm. The metal shines and you grin feeling accomplished.

Your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a particular vampire sitting down next to you.

"Whats that you have darling?" a familiar voice questions.

"uh, my gun? I was cleaning off all the residue" you respond holding it up for him to see.

"I- yes of course your gun needs to be cleaned because you need to do that for the thing for when you..." he trails, trying to mask the fact he is clueless. It doesn't work in the slightest as you pick up very quickly that hes never seen a gun.

"it's kind of like a really fancy compact uh crossbow? that's the closest thing I can think of... It's a weapon Star. It's filled with these metal pellets and then- hold on." you ramble as you realize it's probably best you show him.

You stand, the warmth of the fire leaving you making you shudder slightly. You motion for him to follow as you search around the camp area for a clear shot that wouldn't cause any damage. You point at a nearby tree and make sure he is stood behind you.

"you just push on this trigger part and-" The loud resounding shot echoes through the camp. Astarion quickly covers his ears startled slightly.

"Good god well it's not a very stealthy weapon that's for sure." he shouts glaring slightly. "it didn't even do anything but hurt my ears I don't see anything." he pouts.

You smile and motion him to follow as you skip over to the tree.

"oh my." you hear Astarion mumble as you point at the hole that's been splintered into the tree, the metal bullet glinting wedged inside. He kind of looked like a child, with wonder in his eyes as he looked back at the gun in your hand, now knowing how powerful it was.

"Now picture it as a person or an animal. Much more squishy, easier to go through" you tell him. He smirks.

"you're just full of tricks aren't you darling, I can't believe I've never seen this one, or should I be glad you've never used such a thing against me." he raises a brow and you just chuckle.

"well if you like this trick so much maybe I'll teach you how to use it one day." you smile.

"Now that does sound entertaining..."

Define Alive

As you prepare to rest your mind is preoccupied with questions for your vampire companion. Unable to push the thoughts away you approach his tent.

“Astarion?” You ask softly peering inside.

“Yes my sweet?” his voice replies from inside.

A rustling sound follows as he then appears in front of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” the words fall from your mouth

“Anything darling” You fear that might have been a mistake

"i guess now that I think about it its less of a question and more of an observation... you hate us, or maybe it's envy? of the living I mean. Do you wish you were still alive? That you were never immortal?"

He pauses not expecting your question slightly caught off guard. "I- I- well one loaded question there my love... I- pity you all. You must worry about the fact you'll one day be old and decay, you all can die from disease your so fragile and weak you living people..." he pauses, a long pause as you look at him expecting more. You haven't gotten the answer you wanted yet. he knows you won't leave until you do "although I guess if I had to say one nice thing. I envy the fact that your warm, that I can hear your heartbeat... it's calm... you living people are so careless and light for people who are so fragile." he trails off to himself until he realizes what he's doing "but I never wish I was still alive god no I would have been dead two hundred years ago and no one would be able to bask in my beauty!" he adds seemingly to dismiss the rest of his words. “Yes I suppose we can't have that” you chuckle "then I would've never met you the tragedy. Although sometimes I think what really defines being alive... I mean I think you're pretty alive to me" you muse

He scoffs giving you a look “I think the whole point of vampires is we're dead love. or undead if you want to be so technical about it”

“No, I mean think about it, what is making you not alive right now? You don't have a beating heart? Trees and plants live and they don't have organs or bacteria, diseases they're alive. The fact you don't can't eat? Plants eat sunlight and they don't even eat it. A Lot of animals don't have mouths too like worms. They're still alive.”

"Sweetheart while the philosophical thought is nice I-" He starts to speak but you cut him off again lost in your own ramble. He decides to indulge

“The point is Star… I think the fact that you're standing here having you're own thoughts walking around talking to me, that's enough especially with magic … who's to tell you if you're alive or dead you are both and it's ok. You're both!”

You look at him. He looks at you curiously thumbing over the odd thoughts you just piled into his mind. after a prolonged silence, he speaks

"you know... maybe you're right. I've been dead in the ground for far too long. I think it's time I start living again..." he finishes putting his arms around you.

It doesn't matter that his skin is not warm or that you can't feel a beating heart, you love him, he is yours you are his. Everything is ok.

(This is a rewrite for a fic I have on AO3 That I thought I should share so I have slight diversity in my evil men hyperfixation lol.)

Okay, I need to rant. Fuck AI. And I mean seriously. FUCK. A.I. I know I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but more people need to be talking about this, and there’s no point in me saying that if I’m not willing to talk about it too. AI has done nothing but ruin our communities and defile the art that millions of hands have spent millions of hours creating. Fanfiction is a work of passion. Drawing is a work of passion. Voice acting IS A WORK OF PASSION. AI has no passion. It takes the soul out of the things we love and cherish. It steals what we as a collective community have lovingly crafted, and it shatters it to a thousand pieces, spits on it, curses its family, and throws it in a flaming dumpster to be eaten by rats. It is despicable and disgusting.

I won't lie, or pretend I’m a perfect saint. I myself was a user of Character AI until somewhat recently. And as ashamed as I am to admit that, I feel it’s necessary to own up to my own faults. But after seeing the damage it causes, I can’t in good conscience even consider touching that site. Many of us write because it is our passion. Many of us because it is our job. And many of us because it is our *friend*. AI steals the writing of your favorite creators WITHOUT PERMISSION and mashes it together like Frankenstein’s fucked up monster to create storylines that aren’t even fucking coherent. Not only that, but Character AI uses whatever you respond to it with to teach itself as well, which means that the company has access to whatever you chat about, and free reign to do whatever they want with it. They also make absurd amounts of money from it, which in comparison, fanfiction writers, who spend countless hours writing stories for our favorite characters, more often than not charge nothing. And the ones who do charge, tend to have reasonable, if not highly lenient prices for their labor.

Which leads me into another side rant. SUPPORT WRITERS THAT YOU LIKE. It’s really not that hard, it takes two fucking seconds of your time and it makes someone's day. Reblog. Share with your friends. Like. Comment. Just let the writer know that you saw it, and that you liked it. The amount of fanfic writers I have seen get completely discouraged from writing because of lack of engagement is astounding. I’ve seen several posts on Tumblr or Twitter or Bluesky talking about creators that were incredibly popular but never knew it due to lack of engagement is appalling. If you can rant about your love for their work on Discord, you can rant about your love for their work in the comments. Just fucking copy paste it. Tell them how much you love it. Show them support. Especially the ones that don’t charge. Because for those of us that don’t, our only payment, is your feedback. Even constructive criticism is greatly appreciated by damn near every writer I can think of. Because even that shows that you read it, absorbed it, and thought about it enough to have something to actually say about it.

The same thing goes for artists and voice actors. You see a drawing or animation you enjoy? Comment. Like. Share. You see a character in an anime or a game and you love their voice? Go check out their voice actor, maybe they do some other cool stuff, and you might just discover your new favorite series or streamer. A perfect example is Alejandro Saab. I became a fan of his through his astounding performance in several series dear to me, and lo and behold, he’s also a streamer I enjoy. Same story with Aleks Le, or Ray Chase. Yuri Lowenthal, Lizzie Freeman, Landon Mcdonald, Zeno Robinson, the list goes on. But seriously, it’s not that much effort to just show a little love to the creators you enjoy. The people who breathe life into the series’ that we all hold dear. AI does not breathe that life. Using AI, and supporting those companies, will destroy those pillars of our community. And if that happens, the AI would crumble too, it would have no new information to use. SO really, what’s the benefit? I’ll tell you. There is none.

Stop using AI. All it does is bring harm and slowly kill our community. It’s disgusting, appalling, and downright fucking egregious.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Astarion X Reader

✨Reader is Horn✨

masterlist

funnily enough, there is no sex in this fic. Just a short drabble of communication.

The campfire crackled under the dim twilight, casting long shadows across scattered bedrolls and worn boots. The air was still thick with the scent of the last skirmish blood, sweat, and a hint of singed hair. Everyone was winding down. You sat cross legged near the fire, arms resting on your knees, deep in thought. Astarion lounged nearby, wine cup in hand, eyes glittering in the firelight. He watched you closely, as he often did, as though trying to read your every thought like a well worn book.

Then, with all the casual weight of commenting on the weather, you announced. “I think I’m going to have sex.”

Silence. Even Lae’zel paused mid sharpen, casting you a side glance. Astarion straightened slightly, eyebrows lifting in both amusement and interest.

“Are we now?” he drawled, setting down his cup. “Well, I’m flattered. Not surprised, of course but flattered.”

You blinked. “What?”

Astarion leaned forward, lips curling. “Darling, there’s no need for coyness. If you need someone to… satisfy your sudden urges, I’d be happy to oblige. Gods know I’ve been waiting for you to finally admit it.”

You stared at him for a beat, then snorted. “Oh. No. I wasn’t talking about you.”

The silence that followed was somehow louder than the last one. Astarion’s smile twitched, just a little. “I beg your pardon?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “I was thinking… probably Gale.”

Astarion looked like you’d just slapped him with a wet sock.

“Gale?” he repeated, aghast. “You’re choosing the walking arcane lecture over me? That man has more monologues than passion, and his idea of foreplay is a history lesson.”

“He’s sweet,” you said simply, pulling your cloak tighter around your shoulders. “I don’t know. I just feel like I need to get it out of my system. Nothing deep. Just… need to do something irrational for once.”

“Gale,” Astarion muttered again, then let out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “This is some sort of fever dream. Or perhaps a punishment from the gods.”

You smiled. “Astarion, not everything is about you.”

He grinned back, sharp and wounded. “It should be.”

You stood up, stretching. “Anyway. I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll sleep on it.”

“Oh, by all means, take your time. I’ll just be here, knowing I was passed over for a man who talks more to his floating book than to actual people.”

You gave him a pat on the head like an annoyed cat and turned toward Gale’s tent.

Behind you, Astarion called out, “If he starts reciting poetry during the act, run.”

The fire had long since crackled into glowing embers, its warmth now a quiet hum in the cool night. The camp had settled into silence, the sounds of rustling blankets and steady breathing drifting in from the other tents. Astarion sat alone, still where you’d left him, wine cup now untouched.

He stared into the dark woods, eyes unfocused. He wasn’t thinking about monsters or traps. No. Something far more unsettling had taken root in his mind.

You. You and your ridiculous declaration. You and your infuriating unpredictability. You and… Gale. He scoffed aloud, quiet and bitter. Gale, with his grand words and glowing hands. Gale, who probably asked for consent like it was a spell component.

It doesn’t make sense, Astarion thought, fingers curling slightly at his side. You’re allowed to bed whoever you wish. You owe me nothing. I never claimed to He paused. Frowned.

“Gods,” he whispered into the dark, realization dawning like a slow, creeping horror. “I’m jealous.”

The word felt foreign on his tongue. He almost laughed him, jealous? It was laughable. He’d never needed anyone before. Never cared if someone wandered off after a flirtation, or if they found pleasure in another’s arms. That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Pleasure without consequence. Desire without attachment. But tonight, watching you casually toss aside what he thought was a mutual spark no, knew was had stirred something ugly and unfamiliar in him.

“I don’t get jealous,” he said aloud to the night, trying the words again, firmer this time. “I don’t do jealousy. It’s beneath me.”

But the fire in his chest said otherwise. It wasn’t just bruised ego. That he could handle. He wanted you to choose him. Not out of convenience. Not out of need. But because you wanted him, just him. He leaned back against a log, running a hand through his hair with a low groan. “This is an absolute disaster.”

For the first time in centuries, Astarion wasn’t sure how to play the game. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to play at all. He wanted to be with you. But how the hells did he even begin?

Morning crept into the camp slowly, light spilling over bedrolls and dewy grass. Birds chirped far too cheerfully for anyone’s liking especially Astarion’s. He sat on a rock near the fire pit, legs crossed elegantly, skin glowing like always, and of course he looked amazing. Until you walked out of your tent.

“Well, well,” he drawled without looking up. “If it isn’t the temptress of the Weave herself, back from a night of sonnets and magical satisfaction.”

You stopped mid stretch. “What?”

Astarion turned to you, faux innocence painted across his face. “Oh, don’t play coy. I’m just dying to know how our dear Gale fares in the bedroom. Did he conjure you a glowing review? Perhaps summoned a satisfaction score from the Weave?”

You blinked, then burst out laughing. “Calm down, loverboy. Nothing happened.”

His smirk faltered.

“…Nothing?” he repeated, cautious.

You dropped onto a log across from him, grin wide. “Nope. We talked for like ten minutes, then he got distracted explaining the theory behind dreamscapes and how the mind processes intimacy while unconscious.”

Astarion looked like he aged a century. “Of course he did.”

“I almost fell asleep standing up,” you added. “I think at some point he forgot I was there.”

Astarion made a strangled sound in his throat and tossed a twig into the fire. “Well. I’m sure that was incredibly titillating.”

You rested your chin in your hand, watching him with a glint in your eye. “What’s with the attitude? I said nothing happened. A girl’s allowed to have urges, you know.”

His eyes flicked to yours, fast and sharp. “…Urges?”

You shrugged, teasing. “Yeah. Just figured it was time to get it over with. Stress relief. You know health reasons.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes. “You were going to treat it like a medical appointment?”

“Exactly. Routine check up. The doctor was just… overbooked.”

The vampire groaned and threw his head back. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Mm, maybe I will, we will just have to wait and see unril you stop being jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I was… annoyed. That’s different.”

“Mhm. You sure you weren’t picturing Gale putting on a robe and lighting candles while reading me his dissertation on foreplay?”

“I hate how accurate that sounds.”

You chuckled again, leaning back on your hands, eyes on him now with something softer. “You’re cute when you’re bitter.”

Astarion’s gaze flicked toward you again, but this time there was something quieter in it. Something careful. “And you’re a devious minx when you laugh like that.”

“Oh?” you smirked. “Scared I’ll seduce you with my wit?”

He looked away, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” he murmured. “Scared I already am.”

––––You sat cross legged on a blanket just outside the camp, your sketchbook resting against your knees. Gale was beside you, hunched over his own page with careful strokes, charcoal smudged on the side of his hand. It was quiet. You could hear the rustle of paper, the soft exhale of Gale’s breath as he concentrated. Every so often, he would glance at your work, but he never commented unless you did first.

“Is that the Underdark cave?” you asked after a while, tilting your head toward his page.

He smiled, barely lifting his gaze. “It is. Not as foreboding on paper, is it?”

You hummed. “I would say it is still very foreboding.”

“I like it too,” he said, voice quiet.

You looked at him then how the light caught in his curls, how the frown of focus softened his features. There was something incredibly human about Gale in moments like this. Something grounding. Then he set the charcoal aside with a gentle sigh and glanced your way.

“I’ve been meaning to bring something up,” he said carefully. “Last night… when you mentioned what you wanted from me.”

You tensed slightly, setting your pencil down. “Right.”

“I was flattered,” Gale said with a small smile. “Truly. You’re… lovely, and clever, and far more patient than this strange journey has any right to demand. But I want you to know it’s not about you.”

You blinked. “What isn’t?”

“I don’t exactly know my stance on physical intimacy without affection. Not for myself, at least.” His gaze dropped to his hands, fingers lightly dusted with black. “It would feel hollow. Transactional. And I’ve already been part of one dangerous entanglement with shallow roots.”

You were quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. You deserve real love.”

Gale looked up at you again, softer now. “We all do.”

You bit your lip, nodding again. “I respect that. I hope it didn’t seem like I was pressuring you.”

“Dont worry your pretty little head about it. I know. You’re too considerate for that.” He paused. “Which makes it even more baffling how you endure him.”

You blinked. “Who?”

Gale looked toward the center of camp, where Astarion was perched on a fallen log, basking in the sun and pretending not to eavesdrop. “That creature,” Gale said, voice dry. “A walking vanity project, Honestly, it’s like camping with a predatory peacock.”

You snorted.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Gale continued, warming to the roast. “I’m sure he’s quite talented in the dark. centuries of seduction will hone one’s… muscle memory but I imagine it’s about as emotionally fulfilling as being serenaded by a harpsichord made of teeth.”

“Gale.”

“No, really. He pouted for twenty minutes this morning because his hair got flattened during trance. He looked like a drowned cat who couldn’t manipulate the mage hand spell to fix it.”

Astarion glanced over then, voice saccharine: “You’re talking about me again. I must be ravishing to live rent free in the brain of a man who hasn’t even kissed anyone this decade.”

Gale raised a brow. “I’d sooner kiss a gelatinous cube. At least it wouldn’t try to kill me afterward.”

You covered your mouth, barely muffling your laugh. Astarion scoffed but didn’t move. what? he was listening. he couldnt help it.

Gale’s voice softened slightly then, a lilt of sincerity slipping beneath the sarcasm. “But jokes aside… be careful.”

You blinked. “With Astarion?”

He nodded. “He’s clever. Charming. entirely capable of making himself whatever you want him to be until he’s not.”

Your gaze dropped back to your sketchbook, heart thudding.Then, as if to break the weight of it, he chuckled faintly. “Besides, if we’re talking about primal urges, I believe our resident vampire spawn has more than enough… enthusiasm to spare.”

You laughed, leaning your head back. “You think Astarion’s dying to jump my bones?”

“Oh, I know he is. He practically disintegrated when you told him nothing happened between us.”

“He did look like he’d swallowed a lemon.”

“He looked like he’d been given the feast of the century. Honestly before you said anything, I haven’t seen a man so heartbroken since… well, me.” You nudged him with your shoulder, smiling. “But,” Gale continued, quieter now, “just remember there might be someone else who wants that closeness with affection. Someone who might be afraid you’ll offer it to someone else first.”

You turned your head slowly, eyes meeting his. He didn’t say Astarion’s name again. He didn’t need to.for the first time in a while, your heart beat a little faster not from fear, but from the weight of someone else’s longing you hadn’t quite dared to name.

The sun had risen high enough to dry the grass and heat the stones, but the camp was still unusually quiet. Most of the others had wandered off some hunting, some meditating. You were by the water, splashing your fingers across the surface, letting your boots dangle in the current. Astarion’s shadow fell over you before his voice did.

“You know,” he began, casually enough, “I’ve been thinking.”

You looked up. He was standing just off to the side, arms crossed, expression unreadable but his eyes were trained only on you.

“is that new or did you want to share with the class,” you said

He huffed a laugh but didn’t banter back. He just stepped closer, his voice quiet. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

You blinked, confused for a moment. “What?”

He met your eyes now. “When you decided you needed… something. That night. Why didn’t you come to me?”

You turned your gaze back to the water, thoughtful. “Because I couldn’t.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Couldn’t? Why?”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then, with a breath, you said, “Because I just wanted meaningless sex. Nothing more.” Astarion flinched not outwardly, but in the smallest corner of his expression, in the way his mouth parted like he’d just been stung. “And that’s not something I could ever have with you.”

You turned to face him now, fully. “Out of everyone in this camp… you’re my best friend. Like, yes, I care about the others. Gale’s a good man. I trust him, I do. But the bond I have with him it’s not like what I have with you.”

Astarion stood there, silent.

“With you,” you continued, voice softer now, “I can’t turn it off. I can’t just pretend it’s only physical. You’re not a passing urge. You’re the person I go to when I can’t sleep. You’re the one I want near me when things go wrong. You’re the one I trust when I don’t trust myself.” He blinked slowly, like the words didn’t quite register at first.

“And if we crossed that line,” you added gently, “I don’t think I could ever call it meaningless. Not with you. Not even if I tried.”

The air felt still around you, like the world was holding its breath. When Astarion finally spoke, his voice was rough around the edges. “I think you just ruined every one of my excuses for why I’m not already in love with you.”

You gave him a smile, wide eyed surprise. He sat down next to you without asking, his shoulder brushing yours. “I’m not saying I am,” he added quickly. “But if I were… that would’ve made it a lot worse.”

You laughed softly, leaning your head on his arm. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I’m not.”

ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू) Like Real People Do

Astarion Ancunín X Reader

Synopsis- how do you both really understand each other. Why can’t you love like real people do

“I know very little about this man, but as a devoted lover of Hozier, this song made me think of him….. Oh, did you see me complaining the other day about all Astarion fics being the same? Shut up and read the story. I know you all will still read it, you desperate whores.”

ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू) The night was cool, the stars burning quietly above as the two of you sat a little away from the camp. The others were asleep, but you knew Astarion wouldn’t be resting at least not yet. He never truly let himself rest, even when his body was still.

The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his red eyes seemed almost golden in the dim glow. But there was something dark lingering in them tonight, something unspoken that had been clawing at him for days.

“I had a thought, dear,” he murmured, his voice soft but carrying an edge of something wary, almost sharp. “However scary.”

You turned to him, sensing the shift in his mood. “Tell me.”

His fingers twitched where they rested on his knee, as if he were debating whether to reach for you or not. He didn’t. Instead, he exhaled, gaze fixed on the fire.

“About that night,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “The bugs and the dirt. Why were you digging?” His eyes flicked to yours, searching, unsure. “What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?”

You swallowed, understanding what he meant what he was truly asking.

You had found him, once. Broken, lost, a ghost of a man forced into survival. You both after the ship were so lost. You had reached for him without hesitation, pulled him from the dark, and given him something he still didn’t fully understand. But what had you sacrificed to do so?

You sighed, your fingers curling in the fabric of your sleeve. “Maybe… maybe I buried the part of me that thought I could walk this world alone.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s a poetic way of saying you were already broken.”

You frowned at that. “I never said I was broken.”

“No?” His head tilted slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Then why? Why care for me, of all people?” He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not some tragic hero in a story. I am selfish. I am cruel when it suits me. And I was. am. a man made into a monster. You should have left me in that grave.”

His voice cracked on the last word. He hadn’t meant for it to, but it did.

You reached for him then, slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t. Your fingers found his, cool and trembling, and you held them tight.

“I care for you,” you said, voice steady, “because I see you.”

His breath hitched.

“You are not just what he made you,” you continued. “Not to me.”

Astarion turned his face away, as if your words were something sharp he couldn’t bear to touch. His throat bobbed, his fingers tightening around yours.

“You make me feel real,” he whispered, as if confessing a sin. “And I hate it.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, squeezing his hand. “That’s alright.”

He turned back to you then, something vulnerable and raw in his eyes. “You’re alright with loving a man who doesn’t know how to love himself?”

You smiled, shifting closer until your foreheads nearly touched. “I think that’s why I love you, Astarion. Because I want to show you how.”

His breath shuddered against your skin. For the first time in centuries, he let himself believe.

Astarion was quiet for a long time. The fire crackled between you, but his fingers remained tangled with yours, his grip just tight enough to keep him tethered to the moment. You could feel it the weight of everything he wasn’t saying, the ghosts of centuries clinging to him like a second skin.

He had told you pieces of his past, but never all of it. And you had never asked. You watched the way his jaw tensed, how his shoulders curled inward as if bracing for something inevitable.

“I will not ask you where you came from,” you murmured.

His head turned slightly, red eyes flickering toward yours in quiet surprise.

“I will not ask you,” you repeated, voice gentle but firm. “Neither should you.”

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Something in him loosened, something old and afraid.

“You don’t want to know?” His voice was almost cautious, as if the question itself was foreign to him.

You shook your head. “I want to know you. Not the things you were forced to do. Not the chains that bound you. Just you.”

Astarion swallowed hard. He had spent so long believing he was only what had been done to him, that there was nothing else nothing worth salvaging. But here you were, sitting beside him, holding his hand as if he were someone worth touching.

As if he were someone worth loving.

Slowly, his free hand lifted, brushing over your knuckles. A hesitant, unfamiliar gesture. His eyes studied the way your fingers curled into his, as if trying to understand why you weren’t pulling away.

“I don’t know who that is,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know who I am without, without him.”

You squeezed his hand, grounding him. “Then let’s not look back. Let’s just be here. Now.”

Astarion let out a soft, shaky laugh, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, there was something lighter in them something fragile but real.

“Here. Now.” He tested the words, as if rolling them over in his mind. Slowly, carefully, he let his head rest against your shoulder.

For the first time, Astarion let himself exist without expectation, without past or future. Just here. Just now. with you.

The fire had burned low, glowing embers casting long shadows across the ground. Astarion still leaned against your shoulder, unmoving, his fingers still curled around yours. He felt real like this warm, tangible, not just some fleeting ghost of a man lost to time.

And yet, something lingered in his eyes when he finally looked at you. Something raw.

“I knew that look, dear,” he murmured, voice hushed in the stillness of the night. His red eyes searched yours, sharp and knowing. “Eyes always seeking.”

You parted your lips to respond, but his fingers cold, careful lifted to trace along your jaw, silencing you.

“There was someone once, wasn’t there?” His voice was softer now, almost gentle. “Someone you buried long ago.”

Your breath hitched.

He tilted his head, his eyes flickering over your face, studying every shift in your expression. “So I will not ask you why you were creeping,” he murmured. “In some sad way, I already know.”

Your throat tightened. Because he was right.

Maybe you had found him in the dirt, broken and lost, because some part of you had been buried there too. Maybe you had seen your own ruin in the ghost of a man clawing his way out of the earth.

But none of that mattered now.

Not when Astarion was here. Not when his hand slid from your jaw to your cheek, his touch trembling but sure. Not when his breath mingled with yours, and his eyes softened in a way you had never seen before.

“Honey,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “Just put your sweet lips on my lips.”

His lips barely brushed yours hesitant, uncertain. A question more than a kiss.

And you answered.

You pressed forward, slow and deliberate, your fingers tangling in his curls as you pulled him closer. Astarion inhaled sharply against your mouth, his other hand gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to the moment. He kissed you like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, like he was still waiting for the moment you would realize he wasn’t worth this kind of tenderness.

But you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed him like you had all the time in the world. Like he was someone worth keeping.

quiet and still, save for the soft crackle of dying embers and the distant rustle of leaves in the wind. The world felt small in this moment just you, Astarion, and the fragile space between you.

His fingers lingered against your cheek, cool as marble, trembling ever so slightly, as if he still wasn’t certain you were real. As if he wasn’t certain he was real.

You watched the way his expression shifted, the war within him written across every furrow of his brow, every flicker of doubt in his crimson eyes. There was a time when he might have masked it all behind a teasing smirk or a well-placed quip, a time when he would have used charm as a shield. But here, now, he let himself be bare before you. No pretenses. No games. Just the truth of him, laid out in the fragile press of his lips to yours.

And gods, how fragile he was beneath it all. How much he had been taught to believe he was unworthy of this, of you.

His forehead stayed pressed against yours, his breath shallow. He didn’t speak for a long time, only let his fingers trace idle patterns over the back of your hand. Then, so softly it was almost lost to the night, he whispered, “I’ve never had this before.”

You swallowed, your grip on him tightening. “Had what?”

His gaze flickered up to meet yours, something raw gleaming beneath the firelight. “something that meant something.”

You felt your heart twist at that, at the quiet pain woven into his words. The idea that a touch so simple, so human, could feel foreign to him. That intimacy had always been a transaction, never a gift.

Astarion let out a breath, shaking his head. “I spent centuries pretending I had control. That I was the one taking, the one winning. But I wasn’t, was I? I was just…” He trailed off, his fingers curling into his palms. “I was nothing. I felt like nothing.”

You cupped his face then, guiding his gaze back to yours, refusing to let him slip into the past. “You are not nothing, Astarion.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “And yet, I still don’t know how to be something.”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” you murmured.

His lips parted, as if to argue, but whatever words he meant to say withered before they could form. Instead, he just… looked at you. Like he was seeing something new, something terrifyingly unfamiliar. A possibility he had never let himself hope for.

He exhaled a small, shaking laugh, leaning into your touch. “Gods, listen to me. You kiss me once and suddenly I’m a blubbering mess.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “I don’t mind.”

He huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Only something softer. Something aching.

Astarion shifted, his body relaxing against yours, his head once again resting on your shoulder. This time, though, it was different. He wasn’t just leaning on you. He was allowing himself to be held.

The fire dwindled further, shadows stretching long and deep. But you stayed like that, with your fingers tangled in his, with the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath against your skin.

For the first time in centuries, Astarion let himself be vulnerable without fear.

For the first time in centuries, he let himself stay.

:0

no hate to yall but someone give a fun teasing, sweet and lighthearted astarion fic. I don’t want smut, I don’t crave the angst (at least at the moment) LIKE SLICE OF LIFE OR SOMETHING. let this man be happy and safe and comforted. Even some scenes within the first week of meeting tav. YALL ARESOMEANTO HIM!!