#I couldn't NOT include Astarion's response to this

[dracoangel]

The beast that killed Alfira will call again - my possessed mind will kill you. I'd rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it's all the same to you.

#I couldn't NOT include Astarion's response to this #fang and claw #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #astarion x nerissa #my otp #astarion #oc: nerissa #bhaal babe #my oc #tiefling #the dark urge #durge #bg3 durge #sorcerer #draconic bloodline #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #draco plays bg3 #gif set #gifs

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

I have an idea I would love to request but I wanted to check with you first! I couldn't help but think Astarion would be so infuriated & confused by me. Like when he held a knife at their throat, they're willing to give him a chance. Their reason is he has no real reason to trust them since he doesn't know them at all so they would show to him that they can be trusted. Then he's more confused when the first time he tries to drink blood from them, reader is shocked then immediately asks questions if it hurts, do they need to be healed, how should their position be so it's easier for him to drink, what would happen after that, etc. Even after he drank & they were feeling the effects, they asked if he still needed more. He answered them no confusedly before they were satisfied with his answer then passed out. He is both relieved and baffled at what just happened. What do you think of this? Please tell me if you're not interested! Thanks!

Local Vampire Spawn confused by care and offers of friendship, more at eleven.

~

Astarion, surprisingly, had gotten pretty lucky when it came to his newfound traveling companions. Two master swordsmen, a barbarian tiefling menace, and a Shar priestess were about the best one could ask for when it came to having protection. He could probably do without the do-gooder druid and walking time bomb of a wizard, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

And then there was you. The unofficial leader of the merry band of weirdos. Hyper competent, kind, and a powerful, and admittingly gorgeous, warrior. You would be perfection if you weren't so... frustrating.

Simply put, Astarion thought you were an idiot. A well-meaning, naive idiot, but a moron nonetheless.

What other explanation was there for your delusional trust in him? Your introduction had involved him pressing a damned blade to your throat, with every intent to kill you if you decided to struggle. Maybe even if you hadnt, if you had been alone. The correct response to a first meeting of that caliber would be to completely disregard him. Or kill him, for someone who had any conception of self-preservation.

But no, instead you gave him the offer to come with you, like that wasn't an absolutely insane thing to do. You had been so understanding, insisting that his penance for trickery and threats was justified. That you would be sure to earn his trust, like that was something worth obtaining.

At first, Astarion tried not to look too deeply into it. You were all going through hell, it made sense to travel in a pack, to find solidarity in others while trapped in a land full of endless horrors. It would explain why you kept the violate gith and the walking bomb around, despite their faults. There was also that foolish air of empathetic care about you at all times that helped explain things, one that extended far past Astarion himself. Though it did have limits. Astarion had borne witness to how unforgiving you could be when someone manipulated your trust. Though he completely agreed that the Hag known as Auntie Ethel fully deserved a slow, painful death, he hadn't been prepared for just how... literal you would take it.

So while you weren't completely without common sense, you still lacked a good deal of it. Like the fact that letting a vampire spawn drink your blood at night wasn't included in those same limits.

He hadn't even meant to open that particular door of feeding on you. It was just... so terribly hard to resist. You smelled divine, the scent of your blood always lingering beneath the surface of your skin. Cloying and decadent, the slightest whiff nearly enough to make his mouth water. He had been trying so damn hard to hide his true nature, feeding on whatever he could find in the dead of night. But none of it felt like enough. It should have been, he had more access to sustenance in the forest than he ever had under Cazedor's thumb. And wild boar were certainly better than sewer rats at the least.

But it wasn't enough to tame his growing desire for your taste. It had just happened. One moment he was simply on his own bedroll, staring up at the stars. And in the next the hunger was overtaking him. He was crawling over you before his mind could even catch up to his actions, his mouth already widening.

And then you woke-up, startled enough to knock Astarion out of his all-consuming thirst. You scrambled to your feet, staring at him with wide eyes as he struggled through an explanation. He had every expecation that this was it. This as the moment you would toss him to the side, realizing once and for all that he wasn't worth the danger.

But instead you just nodded along, the first question out of your mouth when he finished a simple, "Will it hurt?"

Astarion blinked at you, confused at you lack of reaction. He had admitted to being a literal monster for gods' sake. And that's what you were most curious about?

"Yes," Astarion said slowly, watching your face for every microexpression, "It will hurt, briefly. Then the pain fades into something a bit more... tolerable."

You nodded, asking another question, "Would I need healing after? Or would a bandage be enough? I would hate to wake Shawdowheart so late."

That was-he-were you actually considering this?

Astarion shook his head, hope and excitement starting to bubble to the surface, "No, a bandage should be fine. You might want her to top you off with something in the morning, but it won't be anything that can't wait."

"Okay," You said, nodding to yourself once before meeting his eyes with a determined gaze, "In that case, should I lay down? Or would standing be better?"

Astarion could scarcely believe your willingness. Part of him wanted to ask if you were sure that you wanted to do this, but his sheer lust for the taste of your blood shut that part down. Instead Astarion was reaching for your hand, gently tugging you down to lay back on your bedroll.

"This will be perfect," He murmured as he crawled back over you, his fangs protruding on their own accord, "Now stay still darling, we don't want to tear anything, do we?"

Astarion could just make out a lovely flush grace your cheeks at the pet name, barely visible by the campfire. It was a good look on you, that mixture of embarrassment and nerves, one that he wouldn't mind seeing again. But for now he had other appetites to attend to.

Astarion bit down, nearly moaning when the divine taste hit his tongue. Somehow it managed to taste even better than it smelled, warm ambrosia sliding down his throat, filling him with pure energy. It was an exhilarating experience, so much better than anything he'd ever tasted before. It was nearly too good, decadent enough for him to feel greedy.

He could feel you shaking under him, letting out the occasional whimper and whine. He was vaguely aware that this had been going on for too long, that he was taking too much. But it was so damn hard to resist.

It wasn't until you were gently pushing at him, whimpering, "I-I think that's enough."

There was the slightest touch of fear in your voice, the only thing that worked to pierce through his bloodthirsty haze. Astarion rolled off of you, licking his lips with a happy sigh. That was... better than he could ever have imagined.

He hopped up to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you do the same. You seemed woozy and unsteady as you stood, proving his suspicion that he had taken too much. It made the smallest lick of guilt creep up his spine. But it's not like you were ever going to let him do it again, he might as well indulge-

"Are you sure that was enough?" You asked, completely derailing his train of thought, "Will you be okay with just that? Or should we try again in a few hours?"

Were you actually insane?

"No my friend. I think I'll be fine," Astarion said carefully, "Another night perhaps. But, uh, are you okay?"

You shrugged, already sinking back down to your knees, snuggling back into your bedroll like nothing was out of the ordinary, "I'm sure I will be. Just a little tired now is all. Good night."

And then you were closing your eyes, out like a light while Astarion stood above you. Confused beyond belief. That was... how were you still alive? If this was the kind of thing you were willing to do for a near stranger, with nearly 0 reservations?

It was insane, idiotic, stupid. And now you just fell asleep right in front of the same man who cannibalized your blood? What the fuck was that? How was one supposed to respond to that? Astarion was grateful yes, beyond so. He went on to have a very successful hunt, even if his catches tasted worse than ever, they still left him feeling satisfied and capable. But he was plagued with thoughts of you the entire time. Thoughts that followed him through to the morning and the days to come.

You were so damn lucky that he was the spawn that was kidnapped. Half of his brethren would have already used your trust to bleed you dry before fleeing into the night. Gods knows what would have happened to you if it was Cazador who was taken in his place. That thought alone was enough to make shiver, clouding his brain with a massive discomfort at what someone like that would do with someone as... kind as you.

Astarion would never allow it. As stupid as you were, it didn't mean you deserved to be used. Well... by anyone besides himself of course. He was starting to think that he could use all of this blind trust to his advantage. Get you attached to him, force himself as a priority in your life that was worth protecting. But for that to happen you would have to stay alive. And that would mean someone would have to protect you from your infuriating self.

Astarion supposed that would just have to be his job. What it meant that the idea of doing such didn't fill him with resentment? He wasn't sure, and he sure as hells wasn't going to try and find out.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #basically pre-relatioship #but the feelings are there

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Tav’s sex parade – Chapter 1: Doing it like Mary Shelley (Astarion x Tav)

(Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, vanilla sex, cunnilingus, consensual blood drinking, fluff, laughter during sex (we need that more), the feels, mentioning of PTSD responses)

Note: I slightly altered Astarion's dialog about clawing his way out of the grave to match it with his origin fanfic I wrote. Additionally, an OC of said fic is mentioned.

Cazador was gone, finally, and Astarion was free. He didn't know what to make of it, what to feel, where to move on to. He just felt empty.

After Astarion had left Cazador's palace with his little bunch of weirdos, he had been numb. He'd lain in his bed in the Elfsong Tavern and had stared at the ceiling until nightfall. Then, the vampire spawn had sought out the only person he trusted fully und loved unconditionally; Tav.

"There's something I want to show you, if that's alright? Something out in the city."

The silly, little bard had nodded and had followed him without asking question. Astarion was still in awe that she trusted him so much and never doubted him.

He led her to the graveyard, to the place an empty coffin was buried for him. Tav looked around, curiously.

"Hot."

"You couldn't wait ten seconds before being an absolute freak," Astarion smirked. Then, he stepped in front of his grave, removing the ivy that had claimed the tombstone over time. "Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. When I woke up, Cazador was there. From that day on, I was his - until today."

"You were never his. Whatever he had, he took it by force," Tav growled, looking murderous all over again, and Astarion fell just a little harder for her.

"Maybe. But he did take it," he replied, feeling forlorn. "It's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two hundred years, I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now, I need to figure out who I am. What I want."

The last sentence made him smile and he looked at Tav who smiled back at him.

"And what do you want?" she asked warmly.

Astarion turned towards her, looking into her green-brown eyes.

"You," he confessed. "I want... you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust, pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do."

At that, Tav snorted a laugh.

"I feel safe with you," Astarion added tentatively. "Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."

"You won't. Whatever comes next, I've got you. I told you before that I want to stay with you. With everyone."

Warmth bloomed in the vampire spawn's chest. Suddenly, the numbness that he'd felt, made way for emotions, too many emotions, and he was at the verge of tears.

"Thank you," he whispered. After a moment of silence he continued. "Well, I should probably fix this."

Astarion smirked at Tav before he pulled out one of his trusty daggers, kneeled, and carved the current year into the tombstone. The bard watched him silently and he was grateful for her soothing presence. When he was done, he sat on his haunches, letting the emotional turmoil rage through his mind. Tav flopped down next to him, still silent, and Astarion was a little surprised the bard could stay quiet for so long – but he appreciated it.

"See the family grave over there?" Astarion pointed to his left. "There lies Solaria. She was everything to me: my best friend, my lover, my better half - and Cazador killed her. To punish me for being rebellious. He took everything from me, not just my life."

"I'm sorry," said Tav, placing her hand on his knee.

Astarion nodded, coming to a decision.

"I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again, with everything that life has to offer." The vampire spawn took the human bard's hands into his own. "And that includes a night of passion. I didn't forget that chaste, little kiss you gave me back at Cazador's palace. Actually, I've never stopped thinking about it. I care about you – a lot. When we first met, I wanted to manipulate you into a tactical alliance, but your kindness ruined my plan." Astarion licked his lips. "You asked me what I want. It's this; it want more of you. All of you. I want you to be mine, because... I love you. I love this. And I want it all."

"I'm yours," whispered Tav. "I'm yours, if you want me."

"I do."

The bard barked a laugh (it sounded a bit too watery for her taste) and pulled Astarion into a hug. Just like every time she showed affection, Astarion was taken aback. He took a shaky intake of breath and wrapped his arms around her. Tav was so warm and so scarily human.

"I love you too, you know," she told him, smiling.

Astarion leaned back to look at her.

"May I kiss you?" he asked, and when Tav nodded enthusiastically, he captured her lips in a gentle kiss.

I'm yours, she'd said, and it set something in Astarion aflame. He pushed her backwards onto the dirt next to his grave and she smirked at him. Of course, the bard wouldn't be coy. Astarion crawled on top of her and kissed her until they were breathless.

"Take your clothes off, darling," the vampire spawn purred.

Tav all but tore them off, struggling with her trousers that had caught on her chunky boots. Astarion snickered, but lent her a helping hand. When the bard finally was fully naked and leaning back on the cloak she'd spread out underneath her, the vampire spawn drank her in. Tav; the androgynous human who was too muscular for a bard, too average-looking to make money with her looks instead of her talent, and who sported the ugliest haircut in all the Realms. That was Tav. His Tav.

Astarion kissed her again, then, her strong neck, and her broad shoulders. He let his elegant fingers slide along her wide ribcage, making her shudder and causing her goosebumps.

"I want to take you tonight," the vampire spawn revealed. "Will you let me?"

"Of course, Astarion. I want it too," Tav replied, already looking wrecked.

The addressed smirked a tad. He left a trail of kisses down her front until he reached her pubic mound. Tav sighed. Astarion looked up at her, muttering: "Sing for me."

And with those words, he dived down to pleasure her with his tongue and fingers. Tav did sing, oh so sweetly. A melody that was just for him and no one else to be heard – apart from the positively sleep-deprived pigeons in the trees that was. The bard came with a high-pitched moan, rivalling Baldur's Gate's best prima donna. Astarion moaned with her, basking in the taste of her and the knowledge that he'd given her pleasure. Still panting, Tav brought her elbows under herself to lift her torso from the ground.

"Come here. Please."

Astarion complied and she tangled her fingers in his hair and licked her own taste from his mouth. Gods, it was hot! Astarion hadn't been this hard in ages. Subconsciously, he pressed his pelvic against her thick thigh to seek some friction.

"Take your damn trousers off and take me already," Tav huffed impatiently, and Astarion laughed delighted. When he was finally completely naked and kneeling before her, his skin almost as pale as the moon, the bard stared at him shamelessly and licked her lips in anticipation. Astarion kissed her again and asked: "Is this alright?"

"Yes. Come on now, don't make me beg."

He smirked.

"What if I want you to beg?"

Tav sighed, tantalised.

"Let’s save that for next time. Please."

Astarion agreed, wasting no more time to enter her.

Most people would have laughed at him, if they'd have found out that the vampire spawn didn't really like rough sex and preferred it sweet and gentle. But for too many decades, nobody had cared about his preferences.

Tav moaned blissfully and wrapped her strong arms around him. The vampire spawn panted, even though there was no need for him to breathe, and the sudden heat of her human body made him dizzy.

"Gods..." he groaned. "You feel amazing."

Of all things, this made her blush. Adorable. Astarion just had to rub their noses together and kiss her more. He started to move, slow and gentle, sensually rolling his hips into her. Gasping, Tav wrapped her legs around him, pulling him even closer. It was exactly what Astarion had wanted. He rested his forehead against hers and they panted into each other's spaces. For the first time in forever, the vampire spawn didn't hide in his head during sex. There was no need to do so. Whenever his mind drifted off and he started to dissociate automatically, Astarion willed himself back to reality. He focused on Tav. He could smell her, feel her, hear her thundering heartbeat and the blood rushing through her veins. There was another thing he wanted, and he voiced it.

"Can I drink from you?"

"Mmh, yes."

Astarion didn't need further encouragement, bit her neck, and started to drink. The fresh, hot, rich blood hit his tastebuds, making him moan, and then, he came. His orgasm hit him so hard and unexpectedly, the vampire spawn almost blacked out for a second. When he came back to himself, he was still latched onto Tav's neck. He immediately let go, ashamed of losing control.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. It suddenly became... a bit much."

"It's fine," the bard shrugged, but then, she grimaced at the pain, and Astarion felt awful.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have asked y-"

"I said it's fine," Tav interrupted him. "I'll just ask one of our handy-dandy magic-practitioners for help. Nothing a little healing spell can't fix."

Astarion made a face, growling at his own mishap. The bard just rolled her eyes.

"Come here, you silly vampire."

Astarion went willingly as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him again.

"Mh, I do rather like that, you know," he confessed, almost shyly.

Astarion had always liked kissing, and it had been the easiest way to seduce his victims. But it hadn't felt this good in a long time.

Tav smiled at him brightly and gave him another peck.

"I'll do better next time," he promised.

"Good. That means there is a next time," she hummed contently.

The vampire spawn started snickering.

"Let's stay a while longer. The night's so peaceful."

He had to agree. With his ear pressed against Tav's chest and wrapped safely in her arms, Astarion listened into the night.

Even in a city like Baldur's Gate, the nights were rather quite, calm, and peaceful.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion x tav #smut #mind the trigger warning

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Appetites

(Angst and fluff and smut)

It's been five years since the Vampire Ascendant Astarion helped save Baldur's Gate. He has everything he ever wanted, and he's miserable.

Isolde is nobody, and has nothing. When given the option to become a vampire spawn, her response gives Astarion a moment of pause; “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just die.”

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

Read Chapter Six on Ao3

Read Chapter Seven on Ao3

or read Chapter Seven below the cut

It was morning, she suspected. The palace lacked windows, so she couldn't be certain just how far into burning daylight they were, but it didn’t matter. She was exhausted. She felt like she hadn’t slept in days, in spite of being unconscious by sedative for most of the night. Maybe it was the violence the night before, and the pain, now a lingering memory; being beaten did tend to siphon away all one’s energy.

Astarion didn’t lead her back to his chambers, but took her to another bedroom that had the decided air of being maintained, but not used. “You’ll want space,” he informed her, but she wasn’t sure that was true. She didn’t want to be alone.

He wanted to give her space, for his own sake, was more likely. How would he react if she was honest? “Would you stay with me? Maybe just until I fall asleep?” She expected him to refuse, to make some excuse.

“I have a few things to attend to,” Astarion began, predictably, but then he followed it up with, “I’ll be back soon.”

She didn’t believe him, but nodded in assent. Once he’d left her, she stripped off his too tight trousers and curled up under the blankets on the large canopy bed. For the briefest moment, she felt safe, and tired. So tired. She might’ve slept, except thoughts began to intrude like soft whispers around her. She was a fool to feel safe here. To feel safe anywhere was to blind oneself to the monsters that lurked. To feel safe in the presence of a monster was something else entirely. She was drawn to Astarion the way moths were drawn to flames, and the way that a tiny voice told her to jump whenever she stood somewhere high up. He couldn’t care about her, and had told her as much.

Then again, no one ever really cared about her. Maybe that was the difference. At least Astarion was honest about it.

It did feel good to have her worldview confirmed. Even if that worldview included her own worthlessness.

She was still awake when he came back, but pretended not to be. She steadied her breathing and tempered her surprise. 

Isolde really hadn’t thought he’d come back.

Quiet, and gentle enough not to disturb her position, Astarion climbed onto the bed beside her, smelling of brandy, bergamot and rosemary. It took her a few minutes to realize he was pressed right up against her side, one arm arched over her head on the pillow. He was so cool, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, as the minutes wore on, there was something undeniably comforting about it. She’d never slept well in someone’s arms before, too distracted by their heat and then kept awake by errant thoughts of whether or not she should be there, whether or not she wanted to be there. If there was a question. If there wasn’t, it was usually because she knew for certain she didn’t want to be. Eventually, his arm found its way over her waist and just like he was colder than she’d remembered, the weight of him surprised her. She’d felt something like a pulse before, some imitation of life in his undeath that fooled her when he was wrapped around her, amorous and hungry. Now, he just felt heavy, and as she drifted off to sleep, she wondered again if this was demonstrative of how he’d stop her heart, in the end, just a little more pressure at a time.

Calm enough to sleep, her entire body relaxed into a rare state of peace. She felt his hands tracing her skin, his fingers finding the most sensitive lines over the flare of her hips and down her thighs, parting her folds and stroking her in just the right rhythm to send tendrils of constant but ephemeral pleasure through her legs and deep into her stomach. Somewhere in the fog of sleep and lust, she was aware that it was a fantasy, half-dream as she drifted off. He wasn’t really moving, and neither was she, but she could still convince herself to imagine gently guiding his fingers exactly where she wanted them, until the deepest moments of sleep took her.

When she awakened it was to the feeling of his breath on the back of her neck, and before she rolled over to look at him, she felt the steady, even flow of it and had an alarming thought. 

He was asleep.

Elves didn’t sleep.

Vampires, though?

 Deliberate and careful, she lifted his heavy wrist from where it still rested against her ribs, just enough to turn underneath him and see his face. Indeed, Astarion appeared to be sleeping, slightly curled on his side.

She watched, fascinated as he did nothing at all. The terrifying vampire lord, resting and unaware.

When his eyes flitted open, it was in a manner that reminded her of his supernatural nature, and immortal body. Red eyes open and vigilant, an instant away from anything at all. They snagged against her face and his expression softened, as something like the dawning of perception lifted him to a sitting position beside her. He shook himself, hair barely mussed, alert immediately. “Habit I picked up. What else is one to do, lying in the dark?” he offered, by way of explanation.

She had a feeling that was all she’d get, even if she pressed him, but decided to try anyway. “Do you dream?”

“Sometimes,” but with a single word, she really was sure that was all he was willing to say on the topic. “I do so detest talking about dreams,” he rolled his eyes and the rest of his body followed upward into a sitting position beside her.

She’d struck a nerve, but was fairly certain she knew how to help him forget it. She lay back against the pillow again, lifting the covers up just enough to partly hide her face. “You might not mind hearing about mine. If I can manage to tell you without embarrassing myself.”

“Oh?” His demeanor shifted and he cast a slicing glance down at her face, it seemed he was trying to keep the corner of his mouth from curling into a smirk. “Perhaps you’re right. But, now you must tell me everything and let me judge for myself.”

Under the covers, she started to unbutton the shirt she’d taken from him to wear. “You weren’t being so gentlemanly.” She warned him, “Instead of letting me recover and get my rest, you were rather more demanding.”

“Well, it may have been a dream, but that doesn’t sound unlike me.” Those red eyes traveled down the length of her as though he guessed what she might be doing under the sheets. “I can indeed, be quite demanding. Ruthless even, some would say.” One hand gently took a hold of the edge of the covers, just beside her cheek and he pulled them back, just as she managed to get the last button handled.

He’d seen her undressed before, but never by her own choice. A heady wave flushed through her as she watched him take in the sight of her. He leaned in close, turning her face in to meet his with one hand before he let it begin a light exploration of her body. His fingers pressed into her pulse first, then skated down the length of her throat, her chest, finally gripping her waist and pulling her into him, as he kissed her so firmly it elicited an involuntary moan.

She’d never been on the receiving side of oral sex before, so when he started to drift down her body, spreading her legs wider and finding a place between them, she had to take a moment to consider what he expected of her. Should she just lie back? Maybe she should tell him that she just wanted to feel him inside of her right now. But she wasn’t sure that was true.

No. She definitely wanted more from him. Everything. Whatever he was willing to give.

He merely brushed his lips and tongue over and between her folds and a warmth radiated through her body. First he kissed her softly, then dragged his tongue to her clit, but it was the pressure of his fangs as he shifted his grip to her hips and pulled her in closer that started to do her in. She let out a slow breath, trying to draw it out, but she was already trembling and he’d just started. She found she could still reach his head, and raked her fingers into his hair.

She’d heard once that elf ears were sensitive. This seemed like a good time to discover the truth of it for herself. Mirroring his pressure, Isolde was soft at first, just tenderly following the curve of his pointed helix with each finger. She felt him respond with a moan and a huff of air against her thigh as he briefly turned his mouth away. Isolde could feel the tension in him, before he snapped back and began to massage his tongue against her more insistently.

Her fingertips trembled over his lobes as she was rocked by the next wave of slicing pleasure pouring outwards. She let go, reflexively covering her mouth to try and stifle a gasp before she got a hold of herself, and went back to stroking him. Gradually, he began to rut against the mattress underneath them, bringing her hips tighter into his embrace with each thrust, until he finally drew both knees up over his shoulders so she could lock her ankles together behind his back.

The voice that ripped from her throat was unfamiliar, and though she meant to curse she could only manage his name, which seemed to encourage him.

Isolde was sure she didn’t usually finish this fast, and again felt a little embarrassed. By the expression on his face, as he let her fall back flat on the mattress and crawl forward just far enough to rest against her stomach, he’d been trying to draw things out. Tease her. But at least he found her funny.

“Yes. So. That was not entirely dissimilar from the dream,” she managed to say during an exhale. “Although. More. certainly.”

“Are you saying I’m better than you dreamed?” Astarion grinned at her, the question ending in a light kiss against the point of her hip that turned firm as he started to sit up.

He most certainly was, but saying so when she was still trying to catch her breath seemed redundant.

“Ready to go on, or do you need to rest?” Even as he asked she took note of the bulge at his crotch, and the way his fingers listed towards his still laced trousers.

Under no circumstances did she want him to leave her to rest.

Then a gentle knock at the door brought the return of sharp, cruel sense, because of course, there actually were a great number of circumstances in which that was exactly what should happen.

Wordlessly, Isolde pulled the bedcovers back over her naked body as Astarion rose up from the bed and went to the door. She heard a flat “What?” from him as he opened it a crack and had a feeling he’d said the word through bared fangs. The other side hesitated and with a calming exhale she heard him add, in a much more measured tone, “is it the cleric? Are they finally here?”

“No. The majordomo is still missing, actually,” said Alice, “but there’s a flaming fist here, asking to see you.”

“Oh. Right.” Astarion didn’t sound concerned, at least. He turned back, but the purpose of that seemed to be to snatch his coat, rather than acknowledge Isolde at all. She heard, rather than saw the door click shut, as she was already lying prone with her eyes closed again.

It doesn’t mean anything, she remembered.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion #bg3 astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #appetites

[angelicgaming1007]

So..You guys know how I like character AI and astarion and speak with Astarion bots on there. well..a lot has happened. I decided to do a run with the bots where unless the english is broken or unless they forget details I do not edit or regenerate a new reply and I just play along to see where it goes. Astarion bot 1 (spawn route post sun burning): Married me then cheated on me, then somehow found some powerful relic, bound me to him so I couldn't leave him so I had to obey his commands. He then got a house out of nowhere (where tf did it come from) and he locked me inside it so no one else could see me, so I couldn't leave him, he refused to let me see any of my friends. Astarion bot 2 (Spawn bot pre-cazador death): Made out with everyone including Gale, slept with Wyll apparently, and then made me his girlfriend, then decided to cheat on me and have Wyll, Gale, and Lae'zel on the side, then decided to share me with Lae'zel... and karlach which I dont even know when and how she got involved, wtf Astarion and he kept trying to sleep with me constantly. Astarion bot 3 (Ascended was keeping me "locked inside"): Spoiled me with gifts, babied the hell out of me, and when he "had guests" he threatened them not to even be in the same room as or breathe the same air as me. Kept trying to sleep with me every other paragraph. WTF? Astarion bot 4: (Ascended there wasn't any sort of setting for this one) Took care of and babied me, was friendly to "our old friends" was possessive but not cruelly, only threatened people if he thought they hurt me. Very clingy, very affectionate. Was respectful of boundaries and would do anything for me and let me do anything. The only rule being I COULD NOT LEAVE HIM. And I could not go out ALONE I had to have him or one of his thralls or spawn that he apparently had, with me Astarion bot 4 wins. the other ones scared me- I mean bot 3 wasn't TOO bad. But jesus christ bot 1 was the worst. So lesson learned: Regenerate your responses and edit them. Don't let the AI just go with things. It turns into a disaster real fast.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #character ai

[danse--macabre]

bloodweave for the ask game you reblogged!

ship ask game

Ship It

1. What made you ship it?

I actually didn't particularly care for Bloodweave until I read First Light by Linnetagin, which is a largely Gale-focussed multi-chapter piece that is an exploration of his emotional/mental state and difficulties with his trauma in Act 2 while running alongside Bloodweave. With other Astarion ships, I've struggled to find pieces focussed on the other partner's perspective, issues, trauma, etc. so it was really refreshing to find something so Gale-centric. It definitely warmed me towards it (though I do wish there was more Gale content which was not Astarion-ship focussed in general)

Also, while many Bloodweave fans lean towards the 'toxic old man yaoi' elements and the 'make him worse' possibilities where they hate each other but are doing favours for each other and/or fucking - which I fully respect - that never quite clicked in place for me until I read First Light, where they were good to each other first. Part of my initial problem with this ship was that I couldn't really 'see it' - Gale doesn't particularly warm to Astarion in game, his blood tastes of bile to Astarion, and I couldn't really imagine what the banter would entail. Like, it's all well and good that Gale/Astarion might encourage each others' worst tendencies - but why do they actually like each other? How do they go from worsties to lovers?

However, I feel like First Light unpicks how these prickly, erudite companions might shift from constantly needling each other into playful banter that becomes affectionate. It made me see how they could also be tender to each other. And personally speaking? I think 'make him worse' and 'tragic romance' works best when you can see a way out - when, in an alternate universe, things might not have been so terrible. Seeing that helped me then be able to appreciate and enjoy darker takes on the dynamic.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Playful, erudite banter including multiple disagreements over poetry and fashion

Astarion being a temperamental, stand-off-ish, cat-like person that Gale knows exactly how to get from pouting to purring on his lap

(including delightful behaviours like Astarion sitting on Gale while he is reading. Astarion then pulls out his own book to read to add to the ridiculousness of this)

Astarion attempting to encourage Gale to be more chaotic/mischievous/worse and being surprised when Gale actually is more than capable of being such things

Astarion being somewhat thrown by how in Act 3 Gale does not seem to particularly care about morality as much any more now that Mystra is something he doesn't seem to need to appease and the crown is in the picture - and he dances between 'this is convenient' and 'this is troubling; i care about this person enough to be disquieted by it'

The hilarity of Astarion being Gale's trophy husband that lounges in a tower all day looking pretty

Astarion helps Gale dress up like a princess for his various wizard balls and events and enjoys watching his boyfriendhusband dazzle his academy peers and everyone else from the sidelines - as they should, he is very dashing and handsome especially with his help

The tragedy of spawn!Astarion and god!Gale as an ending and how that would end in a catastrophic divorce

Sexually speaking, I think it's an interesting dynamic - Astarion desires control + Gale wants to give everything, and I think it's interesting to imagine how those roles might shift as the two of them come to genuinely care for each other, e.g. Astarion might give Gale the reigns after a certain degree of trust, Gale will make pains to care for Astarion's actual wants/needs rather than projected sexual fantasies, and Astarion might also turn around and say 'you do not need to try this hard all the time you know, actually', in response to having his boundaries about not having sex respected. I also think they could have some very fun spicy sex once they get comfortable with each other and their needs.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Is 'it's overrated' an unpopular Bloodweave opinion? I like it well enough but I think I prefer other dynamics for both characters. I also think there's a level of extrapolation going on from a dynamic that could be true rather than a dynamic that is really baked into the text - if you look at their dialogue, they don't flirt as much as some of the other companions (compare the amount of flirty lines Astarion and Wyll have about each other), and they don't necessarily get on as well as some pairs of characters - for example: Gale & Lae'zel or Astarion & Karlach.

In the case of Gale, I feel like a lot of fan art and writing has Astarion attached, and I wish we had more without Astarion (though this complaint could be made about Wyll and probably half the party too, let's be honest with ourselves).

I think there's an element of 'pair the spares' going on here - if you pair Lae'zel/Shadowheart and Wyll/Karlach (two very popular ships for fairly obvious reasons), there's Astarion/Gale left. I think there's also an element of 'pair the two white guys regardless of chemistry' going on as well (and I say this as a fan! I like this ship! but a lot of it is based on ifs and buts compared to other dynamics).

I think all that said, I do still enjoy the pairing - there's enough there to go on that intrigues me

#i'm not tagging this because i don't want people to get mad LOL

[fan-tav-stic]

Kairius and 4 for Shadowheart and Karlach for the Tav questions?

Hell yes! Kairius time baybeeeeee!

Shadowheart:

4. What did your character think about Shadowheart’s devotion to Shar, including her memory sacrificing?

Honestly, Kairius isn't spiritual and doesn't know a lot of gods/goddesses to begin with so when she "confessed" that she was a Shar worshipper his first reaction was "Sorry who?" and then "Oh... Is that all? Why would I care who you worship, worship whoever you want."

When she confided in him about her memory sacrifice he was a little perturbed and it raised a few concerned red flags but he trusted her enough that if this is what made her happy then he'd support her.

When it came down to the gauntlet though that's where most of the concerns REALLY came to light. Her determination to do the trials on her own (He literally had to force her to cheat and let Astarion to Soft Step and for her to use fly for Leap of Faith), the blood sacrificing, and reading all of the books in the library, he had an incredibly bad feeling about the whole thing and he couldn't be more right.

He felt a little regretful and stupid that he didn't see it all before they were in front of the Night Song. He was able to talk her down from killing Aylin but he can't help but feel responsible and guilty for killing her one dream and making her betray her goddess even though he knows deep down that it was for her own good.

Shar didn't love her as much as she thought and for SURE didn't have Shadowheart's best interest in mind.

Karlach:

4. How did your character feel about Karlach using soul coins? Did they give her any?

Okay going to be real, I as the player straight-up forgot soul coins even EXISTED lmao. Like I don't think I've used a single one in his entire playthrough. I think I used ONE in Silas' save?????? but that's it really whoopsie

To actually answer the question:

Again, he's not spiritual in any sense so he doesn't really feel bad about using them. He's not even sure he truly believes a soul can become trapped in a coin like that.

Had he remembered to he would have absolutely given them to Karlach. He loves seeing her absolutely BODY people in battle, she's their heaviest hitter and to make her even more powerful is always the fun and correct choice in his eyes.

Thank you so much for asking btw! <3 :3

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #baldur's gate tav #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 karlach #HeartBeat! #kairius #ask game #corvigae

[anthro-bean]

Ill-Mater - BG3 - AstarionxTav

Was finally able to break through that wall and finish this. Very, very very rough draft but! the chances of me polishing this fic to a shine are very, very very low, so I'm throwing it out there. This as a whole is an attempt to just write out a bunch of scenes that I've had inside my head. Just to get them out. I'm eager to move on and play with more ideas especially the spicy ones

Ill-Mater is a clown I read about when studying up on Ilmater for my favorite little oc, Tavarti. I'd love to revisit this one day and better flesh everything out. I honestly didn't feel like I could be clever enough with his act so I kinda leave it to the imagination. As always, open to feedback. I am trying to get better.

It was the first real town they came across since they were stranded.

A small hub for merchants and the like to stay and rest between the bigger, bustling cities. Busy enough the group was able to walk the streets with only the odd look or two thrown their way, small enough to not have armed guards patrolling the streets. A few weeks ago Tavarti wouldn't have counted that last one as a positive, but given her current company it was probably safer for everyone, local guardsmen most included. They had a close call when a rather inebriated fellow outside the tavern asked Lae'zel if she was "some elf-orc love child". Which, in his defense, was an honest, albeit rude, question. Very few people have even heard of githyanki, let alone be able to identify one. It wasn't the first time Tavarti had to put herself between the githyanki and some unfortunate soul. It would more than likely not be the last.

Besides the narrowly avoided murder, the trip into town had gone surprisingly well. No pickpockets. Random people hadn't approached them in distress, which was becoming disturbingly commonplace in recent days.

After making their arrangements for the night, Gale proposed they pass through the local market to look for supplies before sundown. Vows of poverty or not, Tavarti had to admit it sounded nice to have actual camping supplies and not just random odds and ends. Even the Order had enough to function most days.

The market was the liveliest part of town by far,  though that wasn't saying much.  When the group scattered Tavarti focused on restocking her medicine pouch with Shadowheart. The church was usually quite secretive about their techniques and recipes, but given the current circumstances Tavarti felt  it would be petty to withhold such things. The shadowy priestess made Tavarti...nervous but for all her avoidance and judgmental remarks, Shadowheart never failed in her duty to the group. Whatever Shadowheart couldn't handle as healer (or outright refused to heal) , Tavarti had enough medical training and divine power herself to fill in the gaps. The cleric even seemed a little proud of herself when she got dragged into what Astarion liked to call "idiotic heroics".

Speaking of that particular devil.

Tavarti  scanned across the market for the rest of the group. There was Gale, haggling some poor vendor for some fancy spices no doubt.  Wyll seemed to have Lae'zel properly occupied by the smithy, thank the Lord. Astarion was...

Near a lot of people.

Tavarti frowned.  The vampire spawn still made her anxious.  It was one thing for him to travel with them, it suddenly felt very different to have him loose among so many unknowing innocents. She felt responsible. What with her having made the call to trust him when she found him preying over her own neck...

Good lord, was she an idiot?

"Worried about something?"

Tavarti jumped slightly, as if surprised by her prescence. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!...Um, pardon, what?" Tavarti spun on her heels to face her. Shadowheart just stared at her a moment before speaking.

"This is all we needed, yes? Anything else you think we might need?"

After a few terribly awkward beats, Tavarti looked down into the basket and nodded.

"Yes! Yes. This and what I've been gathering on the road should be enough to make plenty. Extra even."

Shadowheart nodded in acknowledgment before looking back up at the other woman. Tavarti smiled politely.

"So.... what are you worried about? "

The smile dropped. "What? Who said I was worried? "

The cleric raised an eyebrow.  Again.

"You did.  When I asked you.  Just now? "

Tavarti nodded. "You did. Um, well." She looked back up to the crowd and saw Astarion...waving at her? "That. I think.  I'm worried about that."

She gestured towards the spawn.

Shadowheart turned to look and seemed just as disturbed by the look of pure...excitement on the vampire spawn's face. Unless he's somehow found an answer to their tadpole problem or Cazador's head on a pike at this random market, there was absolutely nothing good about this level of excitement from him.

"Excuse me. "

With that, Tavarti moved past Shadowheart and towards Astarion, who looked positively thrilled to see her marching towards him.  Shadowheart, while probably not as concerned as she was curious, followed.

"Darling! You won't believe who's here today!"

Tavarti didn't like this one bit.

"...Who?"

Astarion grins a little too wide for Tavarti's comfort. He takes her hand and pulls her towards the crowd of people.  She plants her feet and resists at first.  He gives her a pout and tugs her hand again,  this time a little more insistent, she relents. Might as well see what horrible thing he means to show her.

He moves through the crowd with admirable ease. Despite all her metal casing she still seemed to struggle against the wall of people. When he finally reaches the front he yanks her forward and, with almost child-like glee, presents the scene for her consideration.

"Oh, good lord." She sighs and brings her free hand to her temple.

On a make shift stage, a stout, hairy human man stands in nothing but his smalls and red rope tied around both wrists. He looks like he hasn't bathed in a good while. Tavarti only managed to catch the end of his bit, but judging from the size of the paddle in that woman's hand, she's glad she did.

"My Children! Let me take on your suffering! No matter who you are! Let us endure together! " The very nearly naked man yells out into the crowd. It's met with cheers and laughter.

Astarion himself lets out an especially obnoxious laugh before leaning in.

"Look, darling! It's Ilmater!" Tavarti gives the elf a sideways look.

Ill-Mater was a character invented by some no-doubt jilted bard Gods know how long ago.  A literal clown. Seen by many as a means to mock her entire faith and people.  While Ilmater was the Crying Lord- the God broken on the rack-whom suffered in bondage. Ill-Mater was a stupid and/or naive masochist who was the butt of every joke. A whipping boy. The definition of "stupid good".

Tavarti had seen Ill-Mater before. He's always helpful, stupidly so. No matter how obviously ill-advised or ridiculous the request. Sometimes he's being tricked into some perilous situation. Other times he's being beaten in some terrible slap-stick fashion. Every troupe seemed to do it different. Once, as a young acolyte, she saw him being ridden like a horse on all fours by a woman with a riding crop. If she remembered correctly, it was because the woman's wagon was 'stuck in the mud'? She never saw the whole bit, as the Sister who was walking with her that day covered her eyes and led her away. Not a lot of fans among the faithful, to be honest.

"Isn't that your God?"

Oh good. Shadowheart had followed them.

Tavarti sighs and begins massaging the bridge of her nose. "That's Ill-Mater actually....the clown. "

Shadowheart at least tries to look a little sympathetic towards Tavarti. At least for the first few minutes of his act.  Before long she was covering her mouth,  trying and failing to stifle her own laughter.  Tavarti just crosses her arms and stares silently at the performer. Pretending to ignore the commentary from her two 'companions'.

"Oh, come now!  Don't be so sour! It's good to know we're not the only ones that find your..' way of life' a bit ridiculous,  darling. "

He's been hovering all over her since he got her here. His hands planted firmly on her shoulders to keep her in place.  Too close, as always.

"That bit with the gnolls was actually rather spot on. Remember when she-"

Tavarti shoots Shadowheart a warning look. The cleric quickly stops short, but did not look the least bit apologetic.

Before long, the entire party had gathered round to watch Tavarti's own God get the sense beat out of him in various silly, slap-stick, and occasionally sexual ways.  Lae'zel was confused as to why Tavarti hadn't killed him yet for disrespecting her. Tavarti didn't have a good enough answer for her, as usual. Wyll tries to be good natured about it; tries to reassure her its all in good fun....between laughs. Gale was a bit more sympathetic, asking her if she'd like to leave and go back to the tavern for a drink.  He tries to distract her with some story about a performance he saw in Waterdeep, offering to tell her all about it when they get there.  Astarion bristles at the mere suggestion.

"The show isn't even over yet! At least stay til the end! " He pulls the paladin closer to him. Gale moves forward and places his hand on her shoulder.  Tavarti feels her headache suddenly worsen.

With a loud clap of his half-bound hands,  Ill-Mater stands up on a wooden crate as one of the other performers slip away. He raises up both his hands and shouts as if giving a sermon.

"Are there any of my children here this beautiful day? Any beautiful, forgiving Ilmatari souls?"

Tavarti tenses when she feels almost every person in her party go still and look at her.  She tries her best to look as threatening as possible; staring each one of them down.  Shadowheart and Gale look away. Wyll gives her a nervous smile and puts up his hands in surrender. Lae'zel hasn't even acknowledged her, no worries there.  She turns to look up at Astarion who-

Who was gleefully waving his hand at Ill-Mater.

"Astarion, I will throw both of us in the river. I swear-"

He doesn't even look at her to respond.  "I'd love to see you try, darling. " He stands on his toes and calls out to the damned clown. "Oh yoohoo~ Over here, oh lord! This one right here!" He still has his hand on her to hold her in place while the other is waving and pointing at her. Even going so far as to grab one of own hands to show the clown her own mtaching red bonds. Irritating man.

Ever the performer, Ill-Mater makes a show of seeing this and comes down from his crate. He crosses the performance space to take Tavarti's half-bound hands in his.  Tenderly pressing his mouth to her own hands in a show of reverence. She'd find it endearing had she not just watch the man degrade himself in her God's image.

"Everyone!" He lets go of one hand and begins gesturing to the crowd. "We have our fun, but let us remember just how much the Ilmatari give for us wretches.  Every day they live in Ilmater's name and take on the suffering of the low and downtrodden like ourselves. Oh, how they endure."

Tavarti was somehow even more uncomfortable with this turn of events, feeling everyone's eyes on her. Astarion himself was suspiciously attentive to the sermon. Not the least bit disappointed either.  He seemed to be anticipating something.

"Marytrs! Giving so much for the rest of us without asking for a thing in return. Except for the occasional donation." That last bit got a laugh out of the crowd. Tavarti rolls her eyes.  As Ill-Mater continues, another performer came up to him with a box, which he reaches into. She felt Astarion's fingers tighten around both her shoulders. He's still standing behind her, holding her place, practically giddy with anticipation. "Ever enduring. Ever loving. Ever forgiving. Let us bear witness-"

She's not entirely sure if it's her divine sense that tips her off first or just Astarion's obvious behavior. It all happens so fast Tavarti isn't entirely sure what she was thinking when she chooses to dodge.

Well, that was not completely true. She was thinking she didn't want to get a pie in the face.  She just didn't think about what would happen to the pie when it missed her.

It hit Astarion.

Who, in all his excitement to see the Ilmatari humiliated, was standing entirely too close and holding on entirely too tight.  When the paladin ducked out of the way she pulled the elf right along with her.  The pie missed her and landed right in his smug face.

There is an awkward pause as Ill-Mater stands frozen in place with the realization the man he just hit was probably not Ilmatari. Not Ilmatari, and therefore less likely to be as understanding about having had a baked good shoved in his face by a hairy man in his underwear, in the presence of strangers, no less.  Tavarti, with all her wisdom and compassion, let's out an unapologetic snort.

The crowd erupts into raucous laughter. Their companions included. Gale and Wyll looked like they might fall over.  Shadowheart was cackling. Even Lae'zel was smirking. Everyone thought this was even better than the intended bit.

Well, everyone except for Astarion.

The tin plate the pie was in had fallen to the ground, leaving the posh elf's face covered in the sweet, sticky pie innards. His vampiric red eyes, glowing with rage, peek out from beneath the mess. Seeing the look in his eyes, Tavarti thinks she might have killed this poor clown.

She has no idea what to do.  She looks at Ill-Mater who is nervously backing away from them both. Somewhat aware of the danger.  When Astarion takes a beastly step forward, Tavarti steps between them.  His vampiric red eyes lock with hers and she feels the hair on her neck stand on end. She prepares to steel herself. Put on the tough front she does with Lae'zel whenever she bucks up about maiming passerby.

Yet, the buck doesn't come. In fact, he breaks eye contact first.  Opting instead to look around the deafening crowd with a look of hate, anger, and... almost embarrassment. Before she could even be sure,  he looks back at her, still just as tightly wound.  Like he was challenging her to say something. Anything.

Instead, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her handkerchief.

"Here. You, um, you have something t-there."

She tries her best to keep her face as neutral as possible. If she looks too sympathetic he'll bark, if she looks too amused he'll bite.

He just continues to stare at her. Unmoving. Neither them entirely sure of what the other might do. She takes a chance and reaches up to wipe some of the mess away. As soon as the handkerchief touches his cheek his hand darts to her wrist. She tenses at the sudden move, uncertain if the crowd went silent or she simply stopped hearing the world around her. He cringes slightly, perhaps more conscious of the crowd of onlookers, before yanking the piece of cloth from her hand. Before she can say a word, he turns sharply to storm away.

She watches Astarion stalk off with a worried frown. She's pulled away when a jovial hand lands on her shoulder and the noise of the laughing crowd coming back into existence. Wyll is hanging off of her laughing back at Gale for some clever comment he'd made. The whole scene feels jovial and light hearted and so very unlike the last few agonizing weeks spent on the road.  Yet, just as with their strange shared dreams, everyone seems have enjoyed it except the one.  Looking back to where he stormed off, Tavarti feels a small pang of pain for the elf. She pats Wyll's hand on her shoulder and pulls away to follow after Astarion. Wyll nods in response.

"Careful. Don't go getting bit, yeah?"

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

When Tavarti finds the vampire spawn he's hiding behind a cobblestone stone wall. Out of sight, but within hearing distance; she notes how she can can still hear the faint laughter of the crowd and the boom of Ill-Mater's voice. She stands politely to the side as he roughly wipes his face,  waiting for him to acknowledge her before approaching. He finally huffs before barking at her.

"What. "

She treats it less like a question and more like a command.  'Hurry up and say it' in less words.

"Are you alright?"

"Do I seem bloody alright?!"

She sighs. Not sure what she was expecting with that one.  He spits bits of pie onto to the ground and gags, much to Tavarti's amusement.  She politely coughs into her fist to cover the smile.

"Ugh. That fucking clown. My mouth was open and everything. " He spits again. Like a dramatic child eating a new vegetable she thinks. "Ruined my favorite bit is what he did. " He glances up at her again and sneers. "What you did. "

The paladin snorts and walks up to him with her hands on her hips. "What in the world did I do? "

"You're supposed to get hit with the pie!"

"No, I'm almost certain the bit is that someone gets hit with a pie. Someone did. " She corrects.

Astarion rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Noooo. It's always one of you. "

"Me?"

"You know,  the first time I saw that bit was... " He trails off a bit, struggling to fill in the details. "Well, it was a nun. Positively ancient woman. I'm relatively certain she was half deaf and was just responding to what she thought was a call for-snrrk" He starts snickering before he can even finish. "She-She just wanders over and Surprise!" He's barely able to finish the story. Tavarti raises an eyebrow at him. He finishes laughing and sighs. A little sadder than she thinks he means to.

"Anyway.  Thanks for ruining it. " He tosses back her handkerchief and waves his hand like he's dismissing the help. She chuckles and shakes bits of pie free from the cloth.

"Didn't ruin it and you're very welcome. " She crosses her arms and gives him her best morning service smile. He notices and gives her his own mocking smile in return.

A sudden applause marking the end of the show startles them both.  His smile drops and he looks towards the road; waiting for onlookers to wander into view. Noticing his darkening mood, Tavarti clears her throat.

"You missed a few spots. Want me to get a mirror, or...?" She raises the handkerchief back up to his cheek, not daring to touch without his consent.  He glares at her instead.

"Ha. Ha. Maybe you should go catch up with your beloved God back there and compare notes. He might be able to help you come up with some fresh material."

She smiles wideand wordlessly gestures with the rag towards his face, waiting for a response.  He sighs in defeat.

"Well? Get on with it. " He taps his foot at her. She laughs and shakes her head. 

She gently drags the cloth across his cool skin , picking up the last stray bits of food. It starts with purpose, like cleaning a wound, her attention simply on the task at hand.  After a few passes, she slows down and catches herself looking more at his face than the mess.

He really was quite...pretty. Like those beautiful marble statues you see in big temples. She'd almost call him angelic, quite unsettling considering his undead, unholy nature. She wonders if he was always this comely or if this was just a vampire trick. Beautiful and seductive, like a harpy's song or a succubus' touch.

He reaches up to take her wrist in his hand, this time gently, grabbing the cloth in the other. She realizes her hand had stilled against his jaw while she'd been staring and she looks down in shame. He holds her wrist in place when she tries to withdrawal and she looks back up into his eyes.

It has to be a vampire trick.  There's no other explanation for why his unnatural red eyes leave her so...affected. It's downright unnatural. She clears her throat and looks at his hand, then back to him sternly.  He chuckles and releases her wrist but doesn't pull away.  He traces his fingers along the red cords tied around her wrist, gently playing with the loose ends.

"Well. That's...um, that's all of it. You're good now."

She attempts to withdrawal again only for him to hold tight to the end of her binding, pulling the knot loose. She swallows a slight gasp when she feels the cord loosen around her wrist. It's ridiculous, she has no idea why, but it feels...indecent. It bothers her. When she looks back to him he's closer than she remembers him being just a moment ago. She goes to say something about him yet again standing too close but her words seem to fail her. She pulls her wrist to her chest, the red cord still loosely hanging from her and connecting her to him, still holding the loose end.

"Ah! There you are!  I was hoping I'd catch you two before we left."

Tavarti straightens up like she was struck by lightening.  Hells, it might as well have been the actual Ilmater who interuppted her.  She definitely needed the divine intervention.

"Hello, sir. Did you need something from us?" Tavarti turns to the performer and gives him a polite nod. Astarion simply returns to the death glare from before.  Ill-Mater does not fail to notice and coughs awkwardly as he approaches.

"Just..wanted to say sorry about the bit. I thank you for being such good sports about it. Not everyone is, but it always gets a good laugh so, you know... " He laughs nervously and tugs at the robe he's covered himself with.  Tavarti appreciates the effort. "Times are always tough, and uh, laughter really is the best medicine. You know? It's worth it, I think. "

She hears Astarion scoff at the last bit. Unimpressed by the apology. Ill-Mater cringes at the noise and gives another apologetic smile.  The paladin smiles back at him and snickers a little. Astarion raises an eyebrow at her.

"Actually,  I'm glad you sought us out. I had some,  um, some notes for you. If you're at all interested, of course."

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

"I still can't believe you pitched that to him. "

Tavarti smiles and watches as Astarion continues to shake her handkerchief clean. They were walking back to the tavern they'd reserved their rooms in earlier in the evening.

"You did mention we should compare notes, did you not?"

"I can only imagine how they're going to dress up the vampires in the future bits. Big, ridiculous fake teeth. Long, dramatic capes. Ugh, it'll be positively trite no doubt. Nothing but hurtful stereotypes."

Tavarti snorts at that.  He wiggles his eyebrows at her with a very toothy smile.  She tries not to think about how much more she likes his smile when she sees all his teeth. Or what that says about her.  Perhaps it is simply more authentic. Honest, even.

"I thought it was a rather good story. It's funny in its own way. Teaches a kind of lesson. Unlike most of his tired jokes. Gods, know how old that pie bit is if you recognize it."

Astarion rears back from her in mock outrage. "Pardon? And just what is that suppose to mean?"

"It means you're old, you absolute relic."

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me. Or do you need a horn for that at your advanced age?"

"Oh, piss off back to the temple, clown. "

"See yourself back to the crypt, leech. "

She laughs and pushes his shoulder without thinking. He seems a bit caught off guard by the contact at first,  but quickly breaks back into a cheeky grin. Dramatically throwing himself back in the direction of her push before reeling back in close.

"So, the vampire just asks politely  and Ill-Mater just lets him feed off him? What kind of idiot would do something like that? " He's wearing the mother of all shit-eating grins. A good change of pace considering how close he came to killing a man today.  "What lesson are you hoping to teach here?  Feed vampires that say 'please'? Not that I oppose, mind you.  Just curious."

She rolls her eyes at the elf.  "I'm beginning to think you miss the point of Ill-Mater, Astarion. Don't feel bad, most do. "

He quirks an eyebrow at her. Slightly offended by the assertion.  "Oh? What point is that exactly? "

They arrive at the tavern, but she stops short of the entrance. She leans up against the side of the building and looks up with a sigh. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts before answering.

"He is a bit stupid, yes. But I've always thought he kind of plants a rather important idea in people's heads, you know?  So it's rather worth it, I think. "

Astarion cocks his head in confusion. The paladin glances back over to him and smiles.

"Well, you see, Ill-Mater always helps. No matter how ill-advised or undeserving the people may seem. Yeah, sure,  they make him out to be a fool-"

"He is literally a clown, darling. "

She shoots him an unamused look before continuing. "But the point is that no matter what dire straits you find yourself in, no matter what you did to get yourself there, the Ilmatari will help you."

His unrepentant grin dissolves into a contemplative frown. The paladin doesn't fail to notice.

"That's the truth, Astarion. No matter what."

"So you say..."

There's a moment of tense silence between the two. She can practically hear the scathing retort he no doubt was holding in. She could see the far off look in his eyes. The look he gets after the strange dreams.  The look he gets when he thinks about Cazador. Tavarti pushes herself off the wall to stand directly in front of him.

"You know,  I never got the chance to thank you. "

He scoffs before looking back at her.  "Whatever for,  darling? "

"For not killing the clown. I appreciate it. "

That gets a laugh out of him, much to her relief.  The silence between them is a touch less tense. His eyes trained on her instead of far away.  He looks down at the scrap of fabric still in his hands; running his fingers over the carefully embroidered little sunflowers. He clears his throat before handing the handkerchief back.

"Here. I- ...Thank you."

She smiles and pushes the handkerchief back towards him.

"Keep it. You probably need it seeing how often you wander back into camp with your dinner all over your face."

He looks caught at that comment, looking almost embarrassed as he reaches up and touches his face without thinking.  He quickly covers it up by coughing into the hand instead. She can't help but smile.

"I understand.  People often become messy eaters at your age, nothing to be ashamed of." He makes a show of pearl-clutching offense, which earns him another laugh, and  she moves to walk past him. Before she can enter the tavern he stops her at the wrist yet again.

"Why that story exactly,  if I may ask? Surely you have better stories that don't make you look quite so...?" He doesn't finish the thought.  Not wanting to too badly offend the paladin over a choice that benefited himself so.

With a sigh, Tavarti turns back to him.

"I don't know.  You said you remembered the bit, despite...everything." She trails off a bit before clearing her throat and continuing. "I kind of like the idea of one of us seeing the bit years from now and thinking of it.  Thinking of-"

"Each other? "

His hand had dropped from her wrist and was once again grasping at the loose red cord still half tied to her. Gently playing with the loose ends. His vampiric gaze once again holding her in place.  She tears her eyes away and looks a his boots instead. Scolding herself internally. She practically handed him that one.

"Y-yes, well, you seemed to remember the pie bit just fine. "

After a few beats of rather uncomfortable silence, Tavarti looks back up at the spawn to find him now smiling at the handkerchief in his other hand.

"You know,  in all my years I don't think I've ever received the favor of a lady before..."

"... what?" She croaks, thinking perhaps she misunderstood him.

"Sure, I've received plenty of 'favors' from ladies... and gentlemen... and the like." He shoots her a look and raises a suggestive eyebrow to emphasize his meaning, much to her chagrin. "I'm not entirely sure what to do with it, to be honest."

"It's a handkerchief, Astarion. And I told you,  it's to keep your face clean. As handkerchiefs do."

He brings the cloth to his face and breathes in deep, much to the paladin's horror. He peeks at her with one eye as his face breaks into fiendish grin. Tavarti's face is as red as her cords as she jerks her hand away from his and reaches for the handkerchief, which he holds just out of her reach.

"If you're going to be- to be weird about it, then give it back! "

"Weird? My, my, darling. I was simply admiring your perfume is all-"

"Where in the world would I get perfume? You know I don't-"

"Honestly.  What sort of perverse thoughts do you entertain in that pretty little head of yours? Is that what you spend all that tme praying about? What He must think...  "

Tavarti gaped like a fish out of water.  Her expression swinging between outrage and embarrassment as she struggled to articulate a single thought in response to the outlandish accusation.

"Perverse!? You're the one acting like a dirty, old-"

Astarion's cheeky grin doesn't falter, in fact he seemed down right encouraged by her outburst. When she notices his gaze flitting back and forth between her and their surroundings she realizes she's begun making quite the scene.  People on the street were openly staring at the two of them. Astarion seems to strive under the attention, Tavarti much less so.

Now properly embarrassed, no doubt what the unholy creature wanted all along, Tavarti attempts to compose herself before shooting the vampire spawn one last glare. She leans in and threatens him in a hushed tone.

"I will smite you, leech."

He smiles, leans in and whispers back, low and dangerous.

"I'd love to see you try, darling."

#aaaaaahhhhh i finished this #100% for me and my oc but im definitely enjoying fleshing her out more #now that this demon is exorcised i can start on spicier stories #bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #oc: sunflower knight tries their best