Astarion X F!tav - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

WIP Wednesday Friday Cause I Can

Hey Everyone!

I'm currently in another state waiting for my flight much later today, but I couldn't help the stroke of inspiration I had yesterday, and decided to write a FARRRRRR off future smut scene- with some fluff mixed in- in my fic between Ofelia and Astarion. Like sooooo far- I don't know why I'm torturing myself this way, but well... 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anywho, thank you all that tagged me (I think most recent was @verbenaa or @elinorbard , love you two ❤️)

Please enjoy this lengthy thing, it'll likely change a little bit and expand once this chapter does come out, but that's far away!

He presses her into the dirt, hands gripping her hips so hard she's afraid they'll leave bruises. The pain is dull, distant- inconsequential in the presence of their mixed pleasure. The way he moves makes her vision spin until the heavens above look like a whirlpool of bright, trailing lights.

He maintains eye contact as he pistons into her, her back arching off the hard ground as he drags her closer and closer- her walls fluttering and her clit pulsing in time to each thrust. It’s so good… so good that she can’t keep his name off her tongue as her eyes shut and she twists and bucks into him like a feral animal, lost in his touch and rapidly spinning out of control. He pushes her closer until the fingers of his right hand slip between her wet folds and circle her bundle of nerves, her body exploding in sensation and fire.

Her orgasm snaps like a whip- faster than she can blink. She's tumbling over the edge, mouth falling open around a wordless cry as he cradles her in his arms, scattering kisses over her collarbones to calm her shivering and twitching body.

It takes a moment to regain her composure- no more than a few seconds, she's sure- but it feels like forever when she finally focuses on him again. His gaze is soft, so unlike anything she's ever seen, and she immediately startles out of the daze, afraid he's withdrawn again.

"Are you okay?" She whispers frantically, rising to her elbows as he stills inside her. She suppresses any sounds, not wanting to make this worse if he's suddenly no longer a willing participant.

"I'm fine, darling." He presses his smile against the side of her head, leaving a soft peck on her cheek. She loses a bit of her balance when she moves her hands until they're gripping either side of his jaw, peering up at him with concern and fear. She doesn't want to put him through this again, gods she knew it was too soon for him to make this decision. She's so selfish for agreeing, so selfish and fucking horrible-

"Mmm!" She whimpers when he whips his head up to capture her mouth in a kiss. It's bruising, demanding and hot and she stays quiet when he knicks her lip with his fang, drawing blood that pools in both their mouths.

"Everything is fine, Ofelia." He murmurs between kisses, sweeping his tongue inside to swallow more before suckling at the cut. "I'm here. I'm here, and I love you, and I want to finish inside you. Gods... you're so tight..." She shudders and whimpers at his voice, at his filthy words. She clenches around him, and his answering groan sounds ragged and desperate. "Please,"

She pulls back to peer up at him, searching for lies- deceit. His tadpole reaches for hers in his heated gaze, and when they tangle, she feels his sincerity so severe that it makes her shiver.

"Okay," She nods, pulling him back in for another kiss. He resumes his thrusts, swelling so fully inside her that she's starting to slip again. She can't keep her voice quiet, his name pouring from her mouth as easily as the little "I love you"'s mixed in-between. She loves him... loves him so much it makes her entire body ache - wanting him closer even as he's buried fully inside, dragging over her walls in a way that transcends any feeling that ever came before it.

She's melting away, her mind going fuzzy and dark around the edges. His face is like a vision- sweat making his hair cling to his forehead, lower lip anchored beneath his fangs, smeared scarlet. His eyes, gods, his eyes... The red is eclipsed by his black pupils, staring into her hungrily, just like when he feeds and she leans forward to kiss him again, nibbling at his lower lip and wordlessly begging him to bite her as her tongue glides over one fang. She feels it unsheath, barely having to do anything to encourage him as rough hands grip her chin and waist to sink his teeth into the corner of her mouth.

She cries out softly, trembling beneath his harsher treatment, clenching around him until he’s groaning into the bite. He’s taking from her, and the usual tingle of pleasure spreads from the top of her head to her toes until a second climax dawns on the horizon, his cock throbbing and growing warm inside her. It’s overwhelming feeling him turn hot this way, his tongue laving over the place he’d bitten her as his hands find her thighs and he lifts her legs up, above, until her ankles rest around his shoulders and his hands prop him up at either side of her head. At this angle, he fills her so completely that she’s thrashing and wailing his name, arms locking around his neck as he slowly pulls out before pounding back inside.

“Astarion!” She cries, holding tight, her heels digging into his back as he groans and kisses and bites at her neck and chest. One hand finds her breast and kneads at it softly, a stark comparison to the way he pummels into her wet cunt, the traces of venom from his fangs leaving her delirious and scattered. She zeroes in on a drop of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and as she watches it trail down his chin, the web holding her in place begins to fray, torn asunder when the crimson fluid drips onto her lips.

A bolt of electricity shoots down her spine, her hips lifting off the ground as he pounds harder, every muscle and piece of flesh honed in on coming inside her. She loses track of his gaze as stars burst behind her eyelids, his deep voice gravelly with want as he calls her name and soothes over her twitching thighs.

“So good… coming on my cock… twice…” She’s blinking tears from her eyes as his hips stutter, tadpole breaking through the haze of her second orgasm to tip his feelings and emotions into her mind. She can feel him getting close, feels the twitch in his cock and the sudden swell like they’re one in the same and the sensation makes her body contract around him again, offering the bliss he’s been so madly seeking.

Tagging @ladyduellist (i want more cowboy Astarion, sorry I'm so needy- at your own pace though 🤠❤️) @preciouslittlebhaalbae (because I'm starving for more Erin x Astarion) @inkymoonbunny @khywren and every single other person who sees this ❤️

If you saw typos, NO YOU DIDN'T THEY’RE GONE NOW

Reblogging this bad boy today since we won't see a new chapter until 9/8

Thank you to EVERYONE who has read, liked, reblogged, commented, and interacted on it so far! Over 40 likes on AO3??? That's crazy to me! I am grateful to you all who've been so amazing and have reached out ❤️ It means the world to me!

Have a picture of a cool old cemetery in New England from my vacay!

With Stars to Fill My Dream (6) - My Thoughts You Can't Decode

I have been looking forward to this chapter for so long!!! I'm so excited to share this one with you all- I worked hard, and I think it shows, and I hope it's good! 💖 Please let me know your thoughts, and have a wonderful night! 🦇

FYI- This story will be going on a 2-week hiatus as I'm going to the east coast of the US for vacation!! Please look forward to Sunday, September 8th for Chapter 7!! 🖤

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,184

Please enjoy some screenshots below as well as the opening under the cut! 🖤

“Ugh, what is it that you’re furiously scribbling down?” Astarion asks, folding his legs over his lap as Ofelia hunches over that journal she’d shown them the first night. She flicks her eyes up at him and he tenses.

That’s right. She’d seen a little too much today- ever since the boar she’s been distancing herself from him. It’s slight but still noticeable, and he needs to get close again or else he may lose her…

“I’m drawing,” She murmurs, uncrossing her legs to stretch and hold the book against her thigh. They sit near the fringes of camp, Gale beginning to prepare for dinner as the others set up tents and wind down for the day.

“What is it you’re drawing?” Ofelia perks up, and he mentally breathes a sigh of relief that she seems to want to engage with him again.

“I like to journal, and when I’m done I’ll fill the spaces around the page with things I’ve seen that day. Here look,” She scoots over to him and he stiffens in her presence as she thumbs through it. His eyes track over the wizard’s face, Shadowheart’s, Lae’zel’s, and even Wyll’s. There’s another form on the opposite page beside her messy penmanship, and instead of a bust, it’s the entire figure. The angles are sharp, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. The more time he spends looking, the realization begins to dawn on him who she’s drawn, and the ruby irises glare back at him disapprovingly.

“Oh,” He murmurs, regretfully watching her flip the page to a warg, a goblin, and Withers. There are a few spaces where she’s filled them with just eyes, more of them red than any of the others. He sees birds, the tiefling man- he snorts- depictions of the moon and different weapons. They’re impressive for just sketches, and she turns to another page where she’s been focusing on each of their heads. His breathing goes still when she shows him his.

“Sorry if it’s a little strange, I usually draw from memory or references, so I’ve been going with what’s around me, hence sketching you all.” Her smile is sheepish and fragile and he nods, not paying too close attention.

He reaches up to touch his lips- are they really that plush? Are his brows that full? Are his ears really that long, or is she exaggerating? And the dot on his cheek- there’s no way he has blemishes. What’s she playing at?

He smiles softly, covering up the warble in his voice with a slight laugh.

“Darling, my ears aren’t that big.” She chuckles.

“They’re pretty big, trust me,”

Indelible Imprints

Chapter 11

Word Count: 6k

Summary:

-Erin has nightmares -Astarion stumbles across Erin doing yoga with Gale -He gets jelly but ends up joining -Erin is busy -Mutual Pining

Ao3

Previous Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Hey friends!

I had planned on getting this chapter out much sooner, but I was moving into a new place and celebrating my birthday (You could reblog or leave me a lil comment as a bday present, if you wanna 😜) a couple of weeks ago, so I got kinda busy. Now that I’m mostly settled after the move, I’m hoping to update more regularly again. (Sorry, I feel like I’m always saying that and then taking a month to update again 😬)

This chapter is a bit slower, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it! They needed some time to rest in camp and be confused about their feelings. 😅

Tag list: @roguishcat @thisisew

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Erin 

Erin could see the sun seeping through the fabric of her tent as she stared at the ceiling from her bedroll. Her dreams had not been restful the previous night, and she’d given up on trying to fall back asleep around an hour or so ago. She couldn’t tell how much time had actually passed. Without her phone working, or a watch or an alarm clock, all she had to give her an idea of the time was the sun. Most mornings she just woke to the sounds of the early risers in camp and the smell of Gale’s breakfast. 

She was tired. And sore. So sore. Even before last night’s fitful sleep interrupted with nightmares, she’d been having trouble sleeping most nights. Initially, the exhaustion of simply existing in Faerûn was enough to have her completely wiped by the end of the day. Unfortunately, her body had gotten used to it and couldn’t easily fall into a sound sleep anymore. There was a general sense of anxiety that she felt every night, so aware of the threat of danger all around her. Her sleep was always light, as though she’d need to be able to jump out of bed at a moment’s notice. 

Then there was the lying on the ground every night that she just couldn’t get used to. She missed her bed and the nights she washed her sheets, falling asleep on warm, crisp linens, the smell of her lavender laundry detergent filling her nose. Sleeping on a thin bedroll every night over the threadbare floor of her tent made her feel like the princess and the pea, always feeling something uncomfortable underneath her as she slept. 

None of those things were what kept her up last night though. Now that the sun was coming out and she could see a little better, she reached her arms out in front of her to inspect. She scanned them, twisting this way and that. Observing the unblemished milky skin of her inner arms and wrists, she ran her fingers over the places the hag had cut her yesterday. Or, made her cut herself. Shadowheart’s healing left no evidence of the wounds, but Erin could still feel the ghost of something there. Like a scar over nerves, not painful, but tugging at the skin. It was probably just in her head, but the nightmares didn’t help. 

I can tell you want her.   

She shut her eyes. 

Don’t you want to know what she tastes like, first? 

She shook her head, pushing her palms into her eye sockets. 

STOP, she commanded herself, trying to force the memories out of her head. 

Rolling to her side, she brushed her fingers lightly across the wall of her tent. Attempting to ground herself, she focused on the way the texture of the fabric felt underneath her fingertips. 

When the hag had possessed her, Erin had been so disoriented that she could hardly register the things Ethel made her say or do. The only thing she could really focus on was the pain. But things had come back to her as she slept. First, she’d woken to the sound of Shadowheart’s scream, and the feeling of her bones breaking beneath her foot. In the next nightmare, she’d been choking on hot, thick blood, running down her throat from the deep cut in her tongue as she laughed and it gurgled in her mouth. She could still taste the metallic tang of it in her mouth, and she couldn’t understand the appeal it had to Astarion.  

Astarion. 

God, the dreams of him were the worst. She still couldn’t fully wrap her head around everything that had happened with him yesterday. Why had he come after all? What had changed his mind? 

He probably just didn't want to lose his daily meals, she thought. Who could blame him when he'd starved for so long? 

He'd been so angry when she insisted on finding Mayrina. She remembered the way he snarled at her. 

That hag will rip you to pieces. 

It stung when he didn’t come with them. She worried about him being left alone, but she couldn't force him follow her. Even if she could have, she wouldn't have made him walk straight into danger with her. She wished she’d listened to him so he didn’t have to. It would have spared her each horrible flash of memory of what she did to him - what the hag made her do. The taste of his lips lingered on her tongue and she felt disgusted with herself. She couldn’t believe he’d agreed to hug her after all that. 

She could still feel the weight of him on top of her when she first broke from the hag's possession, growing heavier once the mask fell off and he relaxed his body over hers, pressing their foreheads together. 

His body above hers was so comforting, and she was so grateful, so she asked if she could hug him. After his reaction to her first hug that morning, she was prepared for him to say no. She hadn’t planned to hug him again since he'd seemed so uncomfortable. On their way to Ethel’s she’d been trying to think of something else she could do with him, like fist-bumping with Lae'zel. Something unique to him, like a secret handshake, if he'd entertain it. But she hadn't had enough time to come up with anything before that moment, and he was right there, and she really needed a hug. So she asked. 

Yes.  

He’d said it so quickly. 

She was so relieved. He shocked her when he returned the hug, still on top of her, lying there for so long she nearly forgot where they were. Her chest ached when Shadowheart came back to them and she had to let go. Probably just sore from him lying there too long. 

Things seemed normal again so quickly, but then she’d had her fit with Mayrina and her spat with Astarion about the monster hunter. She cringed thinking about the emotional little speech she’d given him after it all. Sincerity like that felt so… embarrassing. But he seemed to accept it and her apology without judgement. Well… as little judgement as can be expected from Astarion. Rubbing circles on the pads of her thumbs with her forefingers, she thought of the feel of his silky hair in her fingers yesterday. Closing her eyes, she thought of the way he’d closed his own, letting her fix his curls for him, and she felt her cheeks grow hot at the memory. 

Why did I do that?  

Sitting up, she tried to shrug off her embarrassment. Maybe if she didn’t acknowledge it or act differently around him, he’d forget. If neither of them brought it up, she could pretend it didn't happen. 

She sighed, falling back against her bedroll. Staring blankly ahead, she wondered how long she could get away with staying in her tent this morning. 

A soft, "ahem," outside answered the question for her. 

Pulling her blanket over her head as though it might make her disappear, she groaned. "Isn't getting possessed and fighting a hag a good enough excuse to sleep in a little?" Not that she was sleeping. But she didn’t feel ready to get up and talk to people yet. 

She heard Gale chuckle through the fabric of her tent. "It most certainly is, and the others have already decided to spend the morning resting before continuing on our journey. I only had something to ask of you, if you'd care to indulge me. May I come in?" 

Erin looked around her, grabbing the dirty clothes scattered haphazardly around the space and tucking them into a corner.  

"You can come in. I'm a bit of a mess, but I'm decent." It was true. Astarion had been right when he said she smelled gross last night, so she grabbed her toiletries and rushed to the lake to bathe as soon as they got back to camp. Too tired to braid her hair or wait for it to dry, she went to sleep with it wet. It was probably flat from wherever she’d laid her head and bumpy in all the wrong places. At least she was fully dressed, having changed into her university t-shirt and purple sweatpants before going to sleep. 

Gale's head popped through the flap in her tent as he let himself in. 

"My friend, if this is your idea of yourself as a mess, I'm quite curious to know how you dress up." he smiled warmly. 

"Ha!" she let out a genuine laugh. "You might change your mind if you smelled my morning breath." 

He chuckled, "I'll be sure not to sit downwind of it, then." 

Once Gale sat down, Erin crawled over to her duffel bag and started picking things from it. Satisfied she had everything she was looking for, she reached out to hand it all to Gale. 

"What's this?" he questioned, looking a little confused. 

“Some of the magical things we've picked up so far. I pulled them from the camp chest before going to bed last night so I could give them to you. I could have sworn there were more, but I was pretty tired and probably missed some things. That's why you're here, right? I hope it's enough." 

She'd handed him several rings and necklaces, pressing them into his palms, encouraging him to take them. Looking down at them, Gale's smile softened and he thanked her. 

"Your kindness is very much appreciated. But I must admit that my condition is currently stable and I didn't come to you for this." He started to hand the items over to return, but she only took his hands and pressed his fingers closed, patting them amicably.  

"Keep them anyway,” she insisted. “That way you can have them on hand when you do need them." 

"I'll endeavor to make the loss up to you,” he responded.  

She shook her head. "You don't owe me anything, Gale. We all found these things together. You’re entitled to them just as much as any of us." 

He nodded, “You’re too kind. Truly.” 

She waved the comment away, “Don’t worry about it. So what did you come to ask me, if not that?” 

“Oh, right! I’d nearly forgotten,” he brightened. "I was hoping you'd let me borrow your little device from your homeworld." 

Erin’s brows raised for a moment in surprise. "Oh, well... I don't know if you remember me mentioning this before, but it's not working anymore. It's out of power." She frowned, a bit sad at the reminder. 

"I do remember! I also recall you saying that it ran on electricity!” He leaned toward her conspiratorially, dropping his voice to a mock-whisper, “I don't know if you've noticed, but I have a bit of electricity at my disposal." 

Uncomfortable with what he seemed to be suggesting, she hesitated. "I don't think shooting lighting at it is a good idea, Gale. I know it's not working, but I'd still like to keep it in one piece." 

"You misunderstand me,” he reassured her. “I wouldn't dream of doing something so destructive. I'd like to study it a bit, and see if perhaps a small concentration of electricity would help to fix it. No bolts of lightning or anything so dramatic required." 

Erin considered his request for a moment. After her phone died, she hadn't expected she'd be able to charge it again in Faerûn. Still, it was sentimental, and she hated the idea of it getting irreparably damaged. She studied Gale’s face. He seemed considerate, and she trusted he'd be careful. Making her decision, she dug into her duffel again. 

"Here," she handed the phone to him, then the portable charger. "If you wouldn't mind practicing on that before you try anything with the phone, I'd appreciate it. They're different, but they both run on electricity and I'd miss the smaller one a little less if it got ruined. There's a small bulb here," she pointed at the charging indicator, "it'll light blue if it's got a charge - if it's working, I mean." 

He accepted the items with careful hands. "Of course. I'll take great care with your treasures, my friend. Thank you for indulging me." He stood up to leave. "I'll let you get back to resting now." 

"Wait,” she stopped him, realizing she didn’t want to be left alone. Not with her nightmares still so fresh in her head. “Are you up for a bit of stretching? I promised to do some morning yoga with you yesterday." 

"Are you sure? I thought you wanted to sleep in?" 

She shrugged. "I'm already up. Give me a minute and I'll meet you by the campfire. Should be plenty of space around there." 

"Well then,” he smiled. “I'll see you in a moment."

Astarion

Erin was in her hideous purple sweatpants again. It was the first thing he noticed when he stepped outside of his tent that morning.  

The second thing he noticed, was that she was lying on her back, legs spread wide open as she gripped her feet and pulled her knees to her chest. 

The third thing he noticed, was the wizard, sitting on his knees in front of her, watching her intently. 

That uncomfortable feeling he’d been getting lately whenever he saw her being friendly with the wizard roiled inside him. He couldn’t explain the twisting he felt in his gut whenever she smiled at Gale, or hugged one of their companions. Didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. 

As he glared at the wizard, Astarion noticed him move forward to press Erin’s legs further up. Nostrils flaring, Astarion appeared in front of them before he knew what he was doing. It was too late to rethink and turn back though, as they’d already noticed him and looked up from their strange position. He attempted to feign nonchalance. 

"In the middle of camp, for everyone to see? Bold of you." His tone came off a bit clipped, and he hoped Erin didn’t notice. 

She looked up at him quizzically, as though he were the one behaving strangely in this scenario. "Astarion, you're the only other person out here." 

Was his presence alone not enough to discourage… whatever this was? 

"So you thought you'd give me a private show?" He asked, attempting to mask his incredulity with a tone he hoped was casual. 

Erin and Gale exchanged awkward glances before she looked back to him and asked, "...What do you think we're doing?" 

He couldn’t stand this. "What in the bloody hells am I supposed to think you're doing?!" he demanded, out of patience. 

Erin stood up. "Would you like to join us so we can show you?" she offered. 

"Would I- excuse me?" 

It wasn’t as though it was a completely foreign proposition to him. The offer was very familiar. He'd just never expected Erin to suggest such a thing to him. And he certainly didn’t want to participate in any joining that involved Gale. He was clearly misunderstanding something, and he ran through their conversation in his head, searching for an explanation. 

He must have taken too long, because Erin reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, as though to calm him. Looking down to where she touched him, his face relaxed a little and she apparently took it as a sign to explain further. 

"Remember when Gale said he liked to stretch yesterday?” she asked, “and I said we'd do yoga?" 

He did remember. He just had no idea what 'yoga' was or what doing it entailed. 

His voice came out colder than he’d intended when he answered. "I suppose I didn't imagine you were offering something so salacious." 

Her mouth dropped slightly, and her voice raised a little, clearly offended. "Excuse me? There is nothing salacious going on here, and I don’t appreciate the suggestion that there is.” 

Shit.  

She was angry with him. Again. 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to backtrack, and pressed her further instead. "Then what?" 

Her eyes were wide with disbelief, and he couldn’t understand how he’d become the villain in this scenario. Irritation becoming more and more evident in her voice, she continued to explain as though she were educating a toddler. "Stretching,” she said. “That's literally it. I was just showing Gale different stretches that are popular where I’m from. We were just doing a pose to help get rid of tightness in the hips. It was all perfectly innocent. The pose is even called, 'happy baby,' it doesn't get much more pure than that." 

Happy, indeed.  

His eyes shifted toward the wizard and narrowed. "And that's why Gale was studying your crotch so intently?" 

"I was not!” Gale blustered. “I was studying the pose so that I might replicate it. I'm merely a pupil observing his teacher.” 

Astarion snorted. "Yes, such an observant little student. And a rather hands-on approach you have to learning."  

Gale blushed and stammered, embarrassed, but Erin cut in. 

"I asked him to do that,” she defended the wizard. Astarion’s face pinched in disgust, not wanting to hear what she asked Gale to do to her. She ignored his expression and continued, “I was showing him how another person can help you get a deeper stretch. I've been sore as hell with all the walking and fighting we've been doing and this is helping me just as much as it's helping him." 

Astarion looked at her skeptically.  

Meeting his gaze, she shrugged, apparently tired of trying to convince him.  

"You should join us,” she suggested. “You're the one who was telling me I needed to loosen up yesterday.” She paused, then gave him a cheeky little smirk. “Let's see how loose you can get." 

Wait… Is she… flirting?  

He was stunned for a moment.  

Where did this come from?   

She’d never reciprocated his own flirtations, let alone initiate any of her own.  

No. She was probably only teasing, unaware of how it sounded.  

Still, the challenge stirred something inside him. If she was going to get loose, he wanted to watch. And he wanted to join her. 

"Show me," was all he said.

*** 

Astarion had to admit, if only to himself, that he felt much better after following Erin’s instruction. Some of the positions she’d guided them in felt a bit ridiculous, but every time he looked up, prepared to refuse to continue, he saw her smiling widely at Gale for following her movements exactly. 

Teacher’s pet.  

The thought of being shown up by the wizard, whose knees cracked louder than the lightning he shot from his fingertips, was not something Astarion wanted to entertain. So, he followed Erin’s movements precisely and was quick to assist when she wanted to demonstrate a partnered modification to a stretch. He felt a smug sort of delight in preventing Gale from touching her again and forcing the wizard to watch as he touched her instead. Her reactions to his assistance were a reward all on their own. 

Ah, yep, that’s perfect. If you wouldn’t mind holding that for about 30 seconds for me? Ahhh, thank you, that’s great.  

The nearly breathless way she’d praised him, so full of relief, send a thrill straight to his core. When she’d let out that first little sigh, he had to fight against the shudder it sent through him. He hadn’t quite expected it, and it threw him off for a moment. That’s when he decided he wasn’t going to let Gale have another turn to assist her under any circumstances.  

Despite what her little noises did to him, there was something oddly respectful about it all. Trusting, even. Touching someone in that way felt strangely intimate and chaste all at the same time. She instructed him on where to touch her and when he followed, nothing else happened. She didn’t wriggle suggestively underneath him, and his hands never wandered or groped. Gale was watching the entire time, of course, but something about it made Astarion think it wouldn’t have mattered if he wasn’t there at all. In those moments, he didn’t feel like anyone else existed around them. 

There were even a couple of instances where he’d allowed Erin to assist him in achieving a deeper stretch. She asked permission before touching him each time, and respected it the few times when he managed a polite, ‘no, thank you.’ When he did allow it, he understood her sighs of relief. It truly did feel nice. He was nearly overwhelmed by it. Being able to touch someone and be touched in return - to make their bodies feel good without it leading to sex was… a revelation. And to not feel utterly disgusted and filled with self-loathing afterward? A miracle. 

It had been a lot to process, and he excused himself to his tent shortly afterward, muttering some excuse he couldn’t even remember now. He could hear Gale sighing his own thanks and relief to Erin from where he sat, suggesting they make it a daily practice. While he found himself mildly annoyed at the wizard’s participation, Astarion felt a flutter of excitement in his chest at the idea of doing this with Erin again. Alone in his tent, he allowed himself to smile at the thought. 

He wondered at his initial reaction to seeing Erin and Gale together that morning. Originally, he had been leaving his tent to go and talk with Erin. His trances were rarely restful, but he didn’t even try to trance that night, too consumed with everything that had happened yesterday. He hadn't been prepared to find her so close to someone else. 

He felt sick for it, but he couldn’t stop replaying the moments when she’d pressed her thumb into his mouth and licked across his lips over and over again in his mind. They weren’t her actions, he knew; They were the hag’s. But that fact couldn’t keep him from imagining what it might have been like if it had been her, under different circumstances, of course - no hags involved. He wondered if she was even aware of what the hag had made her do. Could she be imagining what it would be like, to do it all on purpose, too? 

Is this what a friend would be thinking about? he wondered.  

And we’re still friends? she’d asked him yesterday.  

In truth, he didn’t know. The thought of having a friend was appealing, if a little novel. But something about labeling Erin as a friend was dissatisfying, and thinking of her applying the label to him was even worse. For whatever reason, he couldn’t quite warm up to the idea - despite feeling pulled to her, wanting a connection. 

He didn't even know if he wanted to pursue the seduction anymore. She'd shut down his flirting so early on, he didn’t know how to move forward, and everything was moving so slowly.  

Playing the rake was all he knew. He'd never spent so much time with one of his victims before. Never had to think past the initial charm. 

No. She is not a victim. Thinking of her in that way, even just for a moment, made his chest tighten. He forced himself to take deep breaths, attempting to settle himself by focusing on the unnecessary action. 

She was his friend. Perhaps companion was a better word? She was something to him. Someone. He can't remember ever having someone. It made him want to protect it, whatever it was. There was also another part of him that wanted it - wanted her - only for himself. It was the part that made his stomach sink when he saw her with anyone else. She was his friend. His. 

But she seemed to want to be friends with everyone, so he was no more special to her than the rest of the group.  

If he could get her to care for him, fall for him, maybe he would be.  

To what end, though? She was already giving him her blood. Looking out for his safety. Everything his original plan of seducing her was supposed to ensure. She was just giving it to him. 

There was no guarantee she'd continue to give, though. She didn't know the things he’d done, what a monster he was. There were things about his past he needed to tell her, and soon, just for the sake of practicality while they traveled. Encountering the Gur had made it clear to him that he was being hunted by his master, and they'd need to be prepared. He was dreading the inevitable change in the way she looked at him once her told her, though.  

He was surprised she hadn't pushed him for more information about his past already.  

Perhaps she simply doesn't care.  

He knew the thought wasn’t true. More likely, she was respecting his privacy because he'd been snappish and cagey about sharing details about himself with her before. She never pushed the cleric, either. Everyone was allowed to keep their secrets with her. Still, he found it easier to think of if he imagined she didn’t care. Even if he wanted her to.

*** 

The group had chosen to take the day to rest after yesterday's fights, and Astarion decided he would use that to his advantage. He planned to whisk Erin away under the pretense of additional archery lessons so he could talk to her about everything that's happened. Not to mention she’d improved much faster than he’d anticipated, and it made him nervous that she might decide she didn’t need him anymore.  

Why on earth had he told her that the bow he'd given her was enchanted? It didn’t have a trace of magic in it as far as he could tell. She’d just been so reluctant to accept the damned thing. He knew she’d been insecure about her abilities, so he thought telling her it was magical would entice her to just take it already. But now her aim had improved and she thought it was because she had an enchanted bow. He’d have to make sure she practiced relentlessly or risk the stupid lie falling apart.  

It was her fault, really. All she had to do was take his little gifts so he wouldn’t feel so indebted to her, take them and think of him fondly, like a dog receiving treats. But she never just simply accepted, she was always asking him why or where he got it. As if any of that mattered. He sighed and left his tent again, already planning on having her shoot at targets until she couldn’t hold her arms up anymore. Maybe longer.  

It seemed he would have to wait, however. Out in the middle of camp again in her stupid purple pants, apparently staying in camp to rest meant not getting dressed for the day, Erin was doing lunges with the other ladies of the group. Karlach counted aloud, timing the duration of their movements for the others with ease, while Lae’zel went through the motions effortlessly and Shadowheart determinedly followed suit, a slight sheen of sweat starting to form on her brow. Erin was breathing heavily and he could hear her heartbeat from where he stood.  

Well, she would clearly tire out soon enough. It wouldn’t be long before she was unoccupied again, so he decided to take the opportunity to go to the lake and wash a few of his things, maybe mend a few tears he’d noticed in his clothes.  

After about an hour, his clothes were impeccable and he was convinced she would be free once he made his way back. Instead, he didn’t see her out in camp at all. He walked toward her tent, assuming she’d gone to rest after the exercise, but as he passed by Shadowheart’s tent on his way he’d heard a set of giggles from within. He stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do. Perhaps he’d just call for her, tell her she wouldn’t get out of practicing archery so easily. 

More giggles. 

Whatever they were doing in there, they were certainly having fun. His stomach twinged and he decided that it was because he was hungry. 

He walked back toward his tent and spotted three fresh bottles of blood. Erin must have filled them and brought them to his tent while he was at the lake, since he’d already drank everything she’d given him before. 

Stupid girl. 

After all the blood she’d lost from the hag cutting her up yesterday, what was she thinking? 

The unpleasant memory of her lying dead and drained beneath him only a few nights ago came unbidden as he stared at the bottles. Guilt soured his stomach and he looked away, walking toward the forest instead. Perhaps a hunt would be a good distraction. He never wanted to see her like that again. 

It was dark when he returned to camp, and he had clearly missed quite the guest, as the entire camp now smelled of sulfur. It seemed everyone had already retired to their tents for the night, but he could hear the light, intermittent pluck of strings coming from Erin’s tent. He cleared his throat as he approached and it was silent for a moment before he heard the soft plunk of the lute being set down and watched her stick her head out of the flap of her tent. His chest clenched at the sight of her swollen eyes and blotchy, wet cheeks. She’d been crying. 

“Oh, Astarion. It’s just you. I feel like I haven’t seen you all day,” she said as though she didn't look the way she did. 

She held the flap open and he crawled inside her tent and looked at her. Whatever this was about, he could at least allow her to tell him with a bit of privacy. 

“What happened?” he asked, brow furrowed in concern. "You were giggling when I left camp." 

She deflated, and it looked like she might burst into tears all over again. He moved closer and brushed the wetness from her cheek with his thumb, hoping to keep further tears at bay. He wasn't used to comforting someone, and hoped he was doing it right. 

“Tell me,” he said softly, then added, “it’s alright.” 

That was it. The dam had burst and she was crying again, breath stuttering as she tried to tell him what happened. Caught up in her emotions, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped, at a loss for what to say. Clenching and un-clenching his fists, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in return, trying to will the stiffness out of his limbs. 

“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed. 

He seriously doubted that. 

There were a couple of dirty shirts lying nearby, so he took one and reached it out to her. Her nose had started running as tears streamed down her face. 

“Go ahead and wipe your face with that. I’ll wash it for you later.” 

She took it and wiped her tears, blowing her nose into it roughly when she was done. 

“Thanks,” she said, setting the ruined shirt down beside her. “I’m sorry. I feel so dumb for that. I thought I was done crying when I started trying to play that to distract myself.” she nodded toward the lute he’d gifted her.  

“Why don’t you tell me why you were crying and I could tell you whether it was dumb to do so or not?” he asked with a teasing tone he hoped would lighten her mood. 

“Um, well, I still don’t fully understand everything that happened, but I guess Wyll is a warlock?” 

Astarion had suspected as much when he noticed the Blade of Frontiers had more than just a blade at his disposal. The eldritch blast was a good indicator that he had a patron. That certainly explained the sulfuric smell left in camp from what was apparently a visit from the devil he’d made a pact with. Just like a righteous do-gooder to be completely full of shit. Hadn’t the hypocrite gone on and on about the dangers in trusting devils when he was trying to convince the group to help him kill Karlach? Typical. 

He simply made a small tsk of disapproval and Erin sniffed, nose still slightly runny. 

“So his boss, sorry, patron. His patron came to camp and uh, punished him for not killing Karlach. It was awful, I could feel some of it through the tadpole, and I don’t know how he’s still alive after what she did.” 

Astarion nodded. “From what I hear, devils aren’t known to be forgiving. If he’s still living, and not turned into some disgusting creature, it sounds like he got lucky.” 

He’d clearly said the wrong thing, because tears started spilling past her cheeks again. She covered her eyes as if to hide her crying from him, but Astarion just moved closer and reached for her dirty shirt to wipe her tears with a corner that hadn’t been soiled yet. She leaned into the touch, and before he could think of what to do next, she leaned further into him, hugging him tightly and pressing her head into his chest again. 

“I don’t think he’s disgusting, but she did something to change him. He’s got horns now, and it’s my fault.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “How on earth could it be your fault?” 

“I didn’t do anything to stop her from doing that to him, I could’ve- 

“No,” he cut her off. “You couldn’t have done a thing. I know the way things work here are unfamiliar to you, but a warlock pact isn’t some trifle. If Wyll went against something in the terms of his agreement with his patron, there is nothing you could have done. No one could have done anything.” 

She sniffled into his shoulder. “That’s what everybody said. Even after Wyll wanted to be alone, Gale told me that. But-” 

“But nothing. Much as I’m loathe to say it, Gale was right. Eugh.” 

She gave a soft laugh and smiled up at him. “You could be nicer to Gale. He’s your friend too, you know. He kept talking about how great it was to have friends to stretch with this morning.” 

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned. “I think he just meant you, darling.” 

“No, he said friends. Plural. You were included.” She teased. 

He was relieved to hear the slight shift in her mood and unthinkingly slid his arms around her waist to hold her where she leaned against him. “Well who needs more friends when I’ve got you right here?”  

“Oh, no, it’s too sad to only have me for a friend. I’m not nearly enough to satisfy anyone’s social needs.” She laughed into his chest. 

“I don’t know,” he teased, smirking down at her. “You’re quite the handful.” 

She chuckled softly before going quiet again.  

“I hope he’s okay.” She whispered. 

“He’s a grown man, dear. He’ll be fine.” 

“Pain doesn’t become any easier to deal with just because you’re grown. Some things hurt worse.” 

Astarion didn’t know what to say to that. He knew it was true, so he didn’t say anything at all. He just remained there, holding her in the quiet of her tent.  

After a few moments, he noticed her heartbeat slow into a steady rhythm and her breaths come deeper. She’d fallen asleep. 

So much for talking about yesterday. 

He started to adjust, getting ready to move her to her bedroll so he could leave. She stirred and gripped him tighter. 

“Stay,” she whispered, still mostly asleep. “Couldn’t sleep last night… please stay.” 

Ah. So she didn’t sleep last night either. 

It drove his thoughts back to yesterday and last night. He wondered if it was for the same reasons he couldn’t trance. He could feel her tongue on his lips all over again and then her hands in his hair as she told him he was perfect. 

Stop thinking about that while she's in your arms, you fool. 

She’d already fallen back asleep and he sighed, reaching over to grab the blanket from her bedroll. 

Gently lying her down and adjusting himself to lie beside her, he draped it over them both. He tucked her pillow beneath her head before lying his own on it and wrapping his arms around her.  

What am I doing? 

She’d asked him to stay. He was simply helping a friend. That was all this was. 

WIP Wednesday/Snippet Someday

A big HUGE thank you to everyone who's been tagging me in stuff while I've been out on vacation!!! I'm finally back, and I have so much to catch up on! (I'll be trying to post every single one of those tag games and asks as soon as possible!)

Please have a snippet of Chapter 7, going up this Sunday 9/8!!! I know some have been looking forward to it (you have no idea how over the moon that makes me!!!)

Anywho, please enjoy this hefty offering!

“His rules were absolute- it’s why I can't turn you into a vampire, Ofelia. I’m only a spawn- I’ve no freedom or thoughts of my own. I was nothing but a slave, forced to survive on vermin and hide from the sun. To enact his twisted will on the city without any say- he had total control of me and my siblings, I was on a leash at all times,” He barks a laugh, her eyes wide and her voice dead in her throat. “Then I was abducted and this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me- I can’t feel him constantly choking me, constantly watching me. This parasite may have stolen you all away from whatever lovely lives you’ve been living, but for me…” His voice is strong and deep, her chest caving in as she listens. “It’s the best thing that's happened to me since I died.”

She sits silently for a while, her mind a cyclone of emotion. Pity, compassion, sadness. All of it swirls around inside until they lock eyes again. He doesn’t look receptive to a tearful hug or anything of that sort, but she mouths the I’m sorry that’s been echoing in her skull since his pained confession. His jaw clenches and he nods sharply before looking away again, her tongue heavy in her mouth.

“You just have to ask me, and I’ll give.” She says, twisting her fingers around. That look of surprise is on his face again, in his eyes. It fills her with some kind of purpose- she’s not been able to do much in combat here, or really offer their party that much… but at least she can do this. At least she can give someone a hand. At least this way she can be useful.

“Why? Why do you offer so freely? What’s in it for you?” She stills at his words, the razor edge of wariness making her chest ache. Oh distrust, the ever flighty bird she’d once grown accustomed to.

“Nothing’s really in it for me, Astarion. I’d just like to help… I can tell you don’t really care for pity. So let me help in a way you’ll at least appreciate.” She doesn’t look up to meet his eyes. It feels strange somehow, like the things she’s saying are something to be bashful about. She’d do this for anyone. She’d bend over backwards for anyone. She’s just like that.

“You won’t try to suffocate me with embraces and heartfelt words?”

“Can’t promise the latter- space I accept. But you’ll have to put up with me caring.” When she looks up, his head is cocked as he appraises her curiously. His lips twist in discomfort at her mention of “caring”, but otherwise he doesn’t look angry. “If you want to keep drinking from me, you’ll just have to put up with the compassion. Got it?”

“I… suppose.” He grinds out through his teeth, fangs flashing in the sunlight. They’re smaller when he isn’t trying to bite her, just barely peeking out from below his upper lip when he speaks. When he’s about to drink, they’re long- an inch or two, if she’s right.

“Have your eyes always been red?” She asks after some time has passed, mind lingering on some of the finer details.

“No… that’ll be another symptom of vampirism.” He mumbles, and she turns to look at him lazily again.

“What color were they before?” His brow furrows and he looks genuinely lost- almost adrift. It’s replaced by a grim look of anger just as fast as she can blink.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot of things, actually…” She wants to say something, but he’s so closed off. She can tell he’s barely allowing this bit of conversation between them, and she doesn’t want to press… but she did tell him he’d have to endure a bit of her tender understanding, and what better time to pester him than now?

“I think the red looks really nice,” She says, watching his face stray into awe before settling on confusion. “And the fangs- they look good too. The paleness. It kind of suits you and all that… you’re not going to stop me, are you?” He smirks, lips lifting over one fang, and she can’t tell if he’d always done that or if he’d been hiding it before his identity had been revealed to her. Or if he’s only showing them off because of what she’d just said. Everything feels like a churning ocean in her gut and she doesn’t like the way staring at him twists up her insides and makes her sound stupid. Well. Stupider than usual.

“Do go on, not enough people mention my good looks.”

“Oh, I’m sure you haven’t heard a compliment in ages. Let me pull out all the stops for you.”

“I’m listening,” He analyzes his nails.

“Snobby.” He snickers. “Pretentious.” He grins. “Ungrateful.”

“Now I’m insulted, I came and thanked you, didn’t I?”

“Not since last night.”

“You need another reminder? Greedy.” They’ve leaned in close, so close she can see every pore on his face. She stiffens and pulls back, hiding the warble in her voice with a light cough as she’s sure her cheeks paint her in an embarrassing scarlet.

Tagging all you fine folks- can't wait to catch up on all your updates!

@khywren @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @elinorbard @preciouslittlebhaalbae and maaaaaaany mooooore ❤️

He fears what has been left in him

Read on AO3

“Stealing my spot? Fine, I’ll take the comfy bed!” Astarion dived on the bed to the sound of Flare’s tinkling laugh. She smothered it too quickly for him to properly enjoy. He would have to keep trying. Flare climbed up from the floor, sliding onto the bed hesitantly so Astarion shifted into his bat form. 

“No--” Flare started, biting her lip as she paused to think. “I want you to change back, please?” Astarion shifted back to his tiefling form, his tail and rest of him still on the bed while Flare took a few moments to settle beside him. No sunlight or screen of grass stalks between them. Gods, he wanted to wrap his hand around her waist, bring her close and bury his nose in the sunny halo of her hair. Her thighs and hips had swelled with a proper supply of food the past weeks, her face gaining a cute roundness in her cheeks and her breasts filling too. He ached to run his tongue across the pudge of her stomach, so happy her body could change and recover from the starvation she had been subjected to. His own body, in undeath, took significantly longer to recover from the gauntness imposed by Cazador. 

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…

Sunday reminder! 🖤🖤

Just thought I'd attach this nice little screenshot I had that I didn't know where to fit in previously ❤ Hope you all have a great week!

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…

Chapter Summary:

What happened five years ago?

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Story Summary:

He’s admittedly apprehensive to approach the lady; they didn’t part on the best of terms. And life changes people, for better or worse. The Bonnie he knew may be lost to a past he would have to mourn in the dust. Was he prepared for that? To slough her from his memory like a rattlesnake sheds its skin. He furrows his thick brows, contemplating if he should leave before she notices him. No, he needs to properly face her. Put things to bed so they could both move on without any lingering questions.

Besides, unbeknownst to her, he’s there for far more than a trip down nostalgia lane or his lust after her crimson draft. Woman has warrants out on her name and a man has a bounty to collect.

-☆ -

Chapter 1: Goodbye, Little Darlin', Goodbye

Ao3

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Word Count: 7.7k

Pairing: Bounty Hunter/Cowboy Astarion x female western bard OC

CW: Smut, PTSD during sex, language, blood

-☆ -

Five Years Ago

Astarion never cared much for flowers. Trite growths existing for a short time, only to wither til they’d completely dried out—similar to his mortality that his undeath leeched. Thirty-nine living years stolen by his master’s vampiric kiss. Then, two centuries walking with a husk of his own desiccated blood and organs like the top of some dusty mesa.

But, having Bonnie Sparrows sprawled out on his grave resembling sunbathed petals, shushed those thoughts six feet under. 

A month had passed. The Reverend Szarr was plenty dead, and aside from the compelling power he held over his spawned children rupturing for good, there was no trace left behind. Not even a single speck of ash lay in his wake for them to find. Course, that’s what he had coming to him. Reach too high with the devil’s contracts trying to crow like a rooster, one may be liable to end up as a feather duster.

Astarion and his fellow spawn never found who killed Cazador, neither did they unearth any clues as to what happened to the bastard. Fingers were pointed for a while, but they soon realized none of them really had the means to accomplish such a thing, especially being under his thrall. Szarr’s death meant “The Rite of Profane Ascension” had been halted, with seven-thousand former would-be sacrifices turned loose. The house spawn guided them, feral and bloodthirsty, down into no man’s land of the Underdark, where they worked diligently to give them some sort of new life. 

Seemed almost a waste that Astarion’s plans, created with a bunch of questionable heroes hankering for revenge to end his master’s eternal life, never came to fruition, but then he would have never met Bonnie. His Bonnie. She waited, patient and supportive, while he dealt with the unexpected emptiness scraping at his soul because he wasn’t instantly filled with relief or happiness untethered to his tormentor. Justice that felt unfairly denied that he hadn’t been the one putting the Reverend to a final rest. Eventually, when Astarion was good and ready to seek Bonnie out after he made work out of burning Cazador’s pervertible bordello—prostitution house—down, it finally appeared like he may be a free man once and for all. 

The night sky burdened the Western Heartlands with navy and indigo blues, lush with a shimmering tapestry of white jewels the day Astarion decided he would have Bonnie. He showed up on her doorstep, nervous with mysterious passion in his non-beating heart, and pecked the top of her hand as he asked her to follow him to the city’s outskirts. 

He whisked her away under the bloating moon to a bone orchard long forgotten, save for the occasional preacher man wandering by with prayers to redeem its silent residents from perdition. Most of a sun blanched wooden fence, barely protecting the place, laid helpless in the grass. Engravings on nearly all the headstones had succumbed to algae’s decay, serving them a hearty banquet.

“Here we are,” Astarion said, quickly inspecting their surroundings for any possible interruptions. 

“A graveyard?” she smiled, confusedly scanning the burial sites. “You know, when you asked me to take a walk with you tonight, I wasn’t expectin’ such a gloomy place for our first official outin’.”

“Considering I’m a vampire, I prefer some things to remain classics for a reason,” Astarion chuckled. He anxiously cleared his throat. “I-I actually wanted to show you something. Something I haven’t shown to anyone.”

“Better not be a corn cob hidden in your pants again,” Bonnie teased, “Or any other piece of food for that matter.”

He pulled her into him, resting one hand on the side of her waist as he continued holding onto the other as if they were about to dance. “I don’t remember you complaining.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Cuz I let you get away with it.”

“More than you realize,” he murmured, thinking about the lies he had yet to fess up to her. Lies that took advantage of her good nature to serve his benefit. How does a man turn a blow into a subtle breeze divulging something like that? He didn’t know and it sure as shit didn’t come naturally to him. Tonight though, he would tell her. Clear it all up. She deserved that much…and more. “Come. It should be over here.”

Looming beneath a large maple tree, sat a sole tombstone, fairly tired with age. He brushed away crawling vines and leaves claiming the darn thing, with a sadness striving to moisten his eyes. That tree was probably the only living thing keeping the grave company these days, with no indication anybody visited to put memorial trinkets on it. Astarion was grateful for that in a sense. Coming upon a wilted flower basket may have done more damage than good to what was left of his mental state, having plumb forgotten everyone he used to know. Most of them were probably dead anyhow.

“This tree wasn’t as big the last time I saw it,” he reflected, looking above them to admire its boughs. “When I reached the surface, coughing up congealed blood and dirt, Cazador was waiting with this maple as a ‘gift.’ He told me he planted it so I would never forget that it would continue to keep growing and living on—unlike me. And that’s why I needed him, to guide me in those ways through eternity.” He paused, exhaling a choppy breath. “From that day on, I belonged to him, and became livestock for his needs.”

Bonnie gasped, swiftly lowering herself to her knees to place a hand onto the cool stone. The date of his passing and name were read aloud, as she swerved a finger into the elegant markings. “Hang on a tick…this is your grave?!”

“Yes, it is.” The pale elf sat beside her. “There’s nothing inside except for a vacant coffin,” he sighed dolefully, running a hand through those silver locks. “The man I was has laid here, dead and buried. I can barely remember who he used to be aside from some greenhorn magistrate who’s name is carved here under a tree that was meant to be a mockery of me.”

Couple of minutes passed in silence. “I-I’m so sorry, Star,” she whispered hoarsely, balling a fist against her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

What he failed to mention, was that he didn’t take her there for her to pity him. No, he brought her there because he didn’t want at least one person to forget he lived. Really lived. And Bonnie constantly jabbered away at him like she was grateful he was there at all, even as a sanguinary vampire spawn. Nobody had ever cared about him in a way that made his belly ache with confusion and a longing for their presence. 

He hooked a finger below her chin, urging her to face him. “You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear. In fact, I should be thanking you.” 

“Thankin’ me? But, why?” she inquired, canting her head. 

“For the last six months, you’ve stayed by my side through all this anguish—this horror—foolishly trusting and caring about me, even when your life was put in danger.” Astarion sweetly caught her wrist, grazing her fingertips against his lips to peck. “You feel like home. A safe home where I feel seen,” he answered, fidgety nerves biting like minnows at the back of his throat.

Hindsight being what it tends to be, it was hard to believe Bonnie was the same woman he almost led to her demise half a year ago. It’d been a time since he went after a beautiful victim to bring to Cazador—typically sticking to drunkards and petty criminals since they were idiotic enough to manipulate—but then she came galloping in on that spotted horse of hers through the city, with a sabre at her hip and a long barrel peacekeeper aimed at those who were doing wrong. Though she was part of some fearless vigilante gang called “The Balladeers”, he had never met someone so tough and as gentle as a babe in his entire life. 

Astarion had followed her to some forgettable hole-in-the-wall saloon, desiring a vixen instead of pests to stave off his usual boredom, and wasn’t prepared for Bonnie to give him a run for his money. She’d been eyeing him the whole evening until she mustered up the courage to buy him a drink. He’d turned up the dial with his flirting, using his best lines and all, but she just wanted to get to know him. Come to find out, she liked people. Genuinely, liked them, giving them proper dignity and a listening ear where it was due. And that’s why that drop of honey in a world full of bad seeds had so many fluttering to her.

Eventually, he learned that Bonnie wasn’t the type to sleep around with just anyone, making it impossible to lure her back to the bordello. She liked that sorta “getting swept off her feet” romance that was a slow burning fire between two individuals. So, when she denied his advances during that initial encounter, his curiosity eventually turned into a side project to scheme and work her into helping him escape his master’s clutches. 

Then, he fell for her. A falling star smacking right dab in the middle of a solar globe.

“Don’t sell yourself short! I just happened to be rollin’ on by wishin’ to offer some kinda hope that you didn’t have to go at this alone.” A rosy blush bathed her cheeks. “You,” she began, turning his hand to peck his knuckles in return, “are one of the strongest men I know and I admire you for that. You strove to keep goin’, even when our plans to kill the Reverend were at a dangerously critical point of bein’ found out.” She pointed a finger, booping his nose. “‘Sides, turns out I winded up fancyin’ your sophisticated ass.”

“My ass is sophisticated, isn’t it?” Her wrist found a kiss pressed into it, as he mischievously found her gaze under his dark lashes. “Tell me more.”

A dainty sigh left Bonnie’s lips. “Fishin’ for vanity?”

“Always,” he admitted, smirking into her skin. “I do love hearing about me after all, but if you’re feeling a bit envious, I suppose I could pay you a few compliments in return.”

“Lords have mercy, I’m not feelin’ envious!” she cackled, jokingly sniping her hand back. 

He caught her by surprise when the pin in her hair fell unceremoniously to the ground after his lithe hand snuck to remove it. A coppery dawn just for him to marvel as her mane settled around her shoulders. “No? So, it wouldn’t make you feel good if I told you how ravishing you look with your hair down?”

She reached out to brush her fingers along his crow’s feet, intently staring into his garnet irises. “Only about as good as me tellin’ you that your piercin’ eyes make me feel both intimidated and shy.”

“I like making you feel shy,” he said, tucking strands behind the pointed tip of her ear.

“D-do you now?” Bonnie stuttered, blood swelling her lips.

“Very much so. Especially when your lips are flushed as they are now.” Astarion licked his thumb, swiped it across her lips, then put it back into his mouth to briefly suck on it. “Mmm. Sweet.”

Oh, but that wasn’t the only thing that was sweet: Bonnie was dripping for him. 

He had a mind to tell her how delicious her pussy smelled, let that demure reaction consume her entire body for him to gloat about. But, before their first time, there was a certain innocent doting he wanted to preserve for a little while longer that was frequently seen in new lovers. The kind where anticipation produced excitable giggles and nose rubbing kisses. Small affections he never experienced with anyone prior to her.

However, Astarion couldn’t stop Bonnie propelling herself forward, finding his lips to knead and desperately relieving some of that heated tension that had been baking for months. Her hands twisted into his shirt, preventing him from flying off if he got it in his head he needed to scoot. Tender kisses led to hazy seconds slipping on, until she lightly sucked on his bottom lip as a promise for more. An electric bolt shot straight to his groin when the tip of her tongue accidentally bumped his fang, him wondering for the millionth time if her blood tasted as sugary as he fantasized. 

“S’rry,” she panted against his mouth, loosening her fists to slightly lean away. Could her embarrassment be any more adorable thinking of his comfort first and foremost? 

Astarion cupped the fullest part of her cheek, softly prodding her to look at him. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

An unbridled exhale from her nose warmed his face when he closed the distance to slot his lips against hers, mouth all but begging to be ravaged. His eyes shut, honing in on her delightful mewls she tried to hold back that only incited him to continue. She gripped his elbow, using him as a pillar to steady herself from probably melting in a puddle—which he understood because he felt it too. Astarion poured everything he wanted to tell her into those kisses. Every lie. Every emotion. Every undead and human part of himself. Capturing her breath over and over to suck her living spirit into him. It didn’t make sense how damned perfect their lips fit together, only that his need to wholly have her was increasing by each beat of her heart drumming in his ears.

Lingering kisses soon turned into satiny ticklish pecks, slowing their tempo enough for him to playfully shove her giggling form backwards to the earth. He seductively climbed over top of her, a hemovore beelining it for his prey, wedging himself in the middle of her partially spread legs. As he hovered above her flustered body, eyes flickering to her plump, swollen lips that were happily smiling at him, the vampire thought about how smitten he’d become with Bonnie. When did he start to really notice those first niggles turning his sentiments underside? The turkey vulture hunts? Their first kiss in the corn field? Or maybe it happened eons before, fate wiggling its way in the first night they met.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Bonnie asked, frosty eyes concerned. 

He lowered himself to kiss her forehead, her eyelashes. “It’s only that sometimes when you smile at me, it’s hard to believe I may be the one bringing that about.”

Her stare became magnifying glasses, rummaging through the meaning of his affectionate admission. “I lov—” she began to mouth, then stopped herself as if it weren’t the right moment. Her arms vine crawled behind his neck, instantly toying with his baby fine nape hairs. “Kiss me again and maybe I’ll consider allowin’ you to keep on doin’ so.”

Astarion quirked his brow. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh, um,” she hesitated, “I meant to say that I love spendin’ time with you. Fangs and all!” 

Cute.

The side of his mouth curved up, decidedly searching the shell of her ear. “You make me want to devour you.”

Bonnie squeaked when he pecked her lobe then affixed his wetted lips to her porcelain neck, sucking a purplish bruise into it. She reflexively tangled her digits in his curls, tugging him closer. The tip of his tongue slithered out to run down her cerulescent jugular vein, worshiping her pulsating crimson he had yet to indulge. 

His hand reached her thigh, hooking her leg around his slender waist so he could give her one very languid hip roll showcasing how absolutely hard his erection was. He grunted into the crook of her neck, prompting her to tremble into the dirt beneath her. 

“Hngh. Astarion, wait,” she whimpered as he kissed the column of her throat. “Are you sure about this?”

At the apex of her thighs, he prodded his aching cock against her again. “Darlin’, can’t you tell that I’ve been dying to have you.”

She shifted under him, pushing at his shoulder. “No, need you to look at me.” He craned his neck to provide eye contact. “Do you want this? I’d like a solid answer and not just some of those honeyed words you use.”

Bless her for asking, truly. Bonnie knew about his past dealings as a sex slave and the autonomy refused to him. Didn’t change her mind about sticking by his side, but she nevertheless made it a habit to search out every nook and cranny regarding his true feelings about whatever the subject may be. 

Astarion did want to have sex. And a gal like Bonnie was more to him than a one nighter that’d never see the light of day again. There was a knowing that sex would reshape their relationship, moving from a forbidden courtship they had to sneak around with like youngsters, into something more tangible. Nothing strange about that, was how all real couples connected on a deeper level, but he desperately wanted to give her this part of himself he hated. It was the only way he knew how to prove he could be with her, to demonstrate the yearning he’d felt for months. The allure of it all was enticing in a way that made him feel possessed.

He truly held onto the belief that if her faith in him miraculously led to Cazador’s death, it could also heal his mutilated soul.

His softened eyes met hers. “Yes, I want this. With you and only you.” Honesty. This was honesty. He was ready. He had to be ready. With her, anything was possible, right? Had to be. 

Bonnie blew on a stray curl that fell into his eyes, maintaining her goodness for him even during such a serious discussion. “Keep in mind we can stop at any moment, no questions asked. You start feelin’ discomfort, that’s that. Same goes for me. Y’hear?” 

Astarion honored her sympathy with a kiss. “Thank you.” He clutched the meat of her thighs and impelled his iron rigidity into her writhing physique, earning him choked expletives from her mouth. “Now, where were we?”

“Do we need…ahh, gods…to worry about anythin’?” 

Halting his dry-humping into her clothed center, he reluctantly lifted himself up on his elbows. “I assume you mean diseases or getting pregnant?” 

She nodded fast. “I don’t mean to make this unromantic, but…”

“Somehow it coming from you, is romantic.” He gingerly kissed her, quelling her concerns. “But, to answer your question, we both have nothing to worry about. Perks of my affliction is that I can’t get you sick and vice versa.” His hand slid down to roost on her belly. “As for pregnancy, my seed is dead. So, no surprise dhampirs crawling after my boots.”

“Okay, good.” Bonnie grabbed his collar, yanking to crash her mouth into his. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue in. “I need you,” she wheezed.

Course, who was he to deny such a tantalizing request?

He gave her lower vermilion a precursory lick, then tunneled his deviant tongue into her open orifice. Their tongues intertwined, eagerly discovering a lazy rhythm that he knew made her cunt gush. 

She wrapped her other leg onto his lower torso, grinding herself against his dick to stimulate her core. “Please,” she begged, “Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Her pleas went straight to Astarion’s tip, precum gathering in preparation. Something about having a morsel of control over her pleasure, tightened his balls, and he almost threw away his gentlemanly manners to bury himself in her straight away.

“I know, my sweet. You’re being such a good girl for me, but I need you to hold out for a while longer. Do you think you can do that?” It was such a simple request coming from him, but the power it had over her was a sight to behold.

Bonnie flashed him a lustful gaze under her furled lashes. “Yes. I’ll do anything for you.”

To reward her, he coolly pecked the corner of her lips. “There is,” he started, brushing the backside of his fingers on her jaw, inching them just so to skim her exposed collarbone, “a question that has been bothering me for months I’ve needed an answer to.”

“Yes?” she clasped his forearms, giving them a meek wrench as she waited for him to answer. 

Her breathing sped up as Astarion nestled kisses into her clavicle hollow, winding a trail to the roundness of her heaving bosom where her clothing interrupted him. Bonnie donned a corset cover buttoned up past her cleavage with feminine lace sewed into the thin arm openings. Usually, it wasn’t proper for a lady to walk about sans multiple layers exposing so much skin, but she didn’t care. Woman was an unconventional rarity, but Astarion liked that about her. That edge she possessed, that somehow demanded respect from even the most religious of men, had him sickeningly enamored with her.

The cover’s buttons popped open one by one until her corset was unveiled. Pretty thing was teal, constructed with cotton and a busk for easier removal. He carefully unclasped the busk, taking his time to enjoy her erratic breaths fanning out in patient fervency. When he folded back the garment on either side, he grinned at her pebbling nipples curiously seeking attention through her chemise. His index finger circled a clothed bud and she hissed, arching into his touch.

Sensitive minx.

Bowing his head, Astarion’s teeth seized the lace chemise’s neckline, dragging it southwards to reveal her torso’s nakedness. What met him were two mouth-watering tits that caused his shaft to strain against his trousers. Breasts weren’t normally his favorite feature on a person, but hells, Bonnie’s came bouncing out practically demanding to be bitten.

“Mm.” He pinched her nipple, salaciously witnessing a flurry of goosebumps invade her flesh. “Pink. I wondered what color they were,” he reported.

She watched, half-lidded and unbearably aroused, when his tongue darted out to swirl her peak. He gave it one obscene suck that hollowed his cheeks and released it with a lewd pop. Heat sweltered throughout her pores as he suctioned his chill plush lips around her nipple to savor it with modest nibbles, her cry rapidly forcing its way into the universe. To soothe her, his tongue kitten-licked her raw teat, humming as he coated it in his spit.

Noticing he neglected to tend to her other breast, he started fondling it in his free hand, struggling to fit the mass of it in his grasp. He squeezed it, areola puckering from the applied friction belonging to his palm. 

“Ngh,” she fidgeted, winded from his mania on her tits. “You’re makin’ me crazy!” 

He nabbed her waist, suppressing her need to squirm. “Keep moving around and I may accidentally bite you,” he warned in a low growl. 

Bonnie’s hands sailed to the crown of his head, casually massaging his scalp. “I-I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she bashfully offered.

Man almost came in his pants right there. 

Now, drinking from Bonnie had nothing to do with a lack of an actual want on his behalf, but everything to do with not being permitted to sup from humans by his former creator. Was one of the cocksucker’s commandments that all vampire spawn had to abide. Break those rules and the next year being “pampered” with torture devices became a regular routine until the offender was broken in well and good. 

Still, Astarion lusted in his daydreams after that first burst of thinking creature blood hitting his gluttonous buds, wondering if the gaminess he tasted in smaller animals was replaced by a delicacy more refined. And Bonnie? Gods, he couldn’t even fathom what her life essence might resemble. Perhaps some combination of sunlight and the floating heavens. 

“A-Are you sure, darlin’? I’ve never done this before—with a thinking creature I mean. You would be my first.” He couldn’t help but be in awe of this woman, never ceasing to surprise or revoke her trust in him. 

“I trust you,” she reassuringly smiled.

A bout of thrilling unease jumped into his larynx. “I know where to bite, so you won’t be harmed. It’s only that my practice has been limited to—”

“Hey,” she poked his cheek, “said I trust you.” 

Astarion swallowed, brushing his fingers along the velvety span of her neck. “Would your neck be okay?”

“I think so? Yes?” she tittered. “Won’t really know until we get to that point, but I’ll tell you if it becomes too much.” Suddenly, her hands were scritching at his shirt. “Can we take this off? I want to feel your skin on me while we do this.” 

Guilt weighed on him like a horseshoe as his thoughts trotted to and fro. He needed to confess his sins to her before they continued. Make good on his silent promises to this angelic savior. As their intimacy was increasing fourfold,  Astarion recognized that biting without sapping her dry would be a sensual experience that most vampires didn’t share with mortals. Engaging in something so special without first clearing his slate, wouldn’t be fair to her. 

What minute color was left in his face, drained out. “Bonnie, we need to—” 

A finger tapped against his lips. “Shh. Unless you need to stop, whatever you have to say can wait. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she spoke softly. “Promise.”

He had to believe her, right? She wasn’t one to regale him with tall tales and dishonesty that was unbecoming. In the end, his bucket of dayshine would be there for him. Waiting. Always waiting for him to fall into her arms.

“Right, well, I—ahem—don’t want you thinking I don’t care about you is all. Because I do,” he sheepishly averted her sight. “Quite a lot, in fact.” It may not have been the agonizing truth he wanted to tell her, but it was a truth nonetheless. And if presumably his sincerity was by chance remembered in a compassionate light later on when he did get the opportunity to spill the rest, all the better for him! 

Blossoming red patches splashed her entire self. Dew glazed a thin veil pane across her eyes that Astarion was wanting to get lost in. “Feels like I’ve been waitin’ a lifetime to hear that from you.”

He pecked her palm several times, cherishing her good heart. “I wanted to take my time with you tonight, give you as much pleasure as time would afford, but I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted this—wanted you.”

She invitingly bit her lower lip, moving to untuck his shirt out of his pants. “Then, have me.”

Buttons on his shirt loosened as he facilitated her movements. He chuckled at her serious expression when she endeavored to unstick a button and shooed his hand away when he tried to aid. A simper adorned her as she took her time, intentionally appreciating his abs contracting with titillation as her knuckles scraped against them.

“Enjoying yourself?” he teased, finally shimmying out of the shirt.

“Damned right I am!” Bonnie gawked indecently at his planes of lean chest and ab muscles. His skin virtually glowed in the moon’s beams as he canopied her figure. “You’re so handsome…“

Astarion distracted her with a roguish kiss, moving to wrangle her skirt and petticoat past her thighs. Suffering with her blood singing a hymn to him through her vibrating vein thumps and his need to have his cock inside her tightness, he was becoming desperate to move their interlude forward. 

“What are you doin’?” she puffed out.

A fang arduously clipped her lip, all but drawing blood. “I thought I would make this enjoyable for us both. Do you object?”

“Touch me,” she ordered, legs inherently spreading wide to his predatory touch.

His hand drifted up Bonnie’s quivering inner thigh, her hurriedly babbling a prayer when he reached the section where her thigh met her outer lips. “Gods, you’re bare,” he noted, purring low into her ear discovering she had foregone her under drawers. “Can I check?” 

“Check what?” she rasped into his ear as he left a brisk kiss on the side of her neck.

“To see how wet I’ve made your pussy.” Astarion didn’t wait for the wood elf’s reply, instead he ran his index finger in a straight line down her folds, drenching it in her sopping juices. “Oh, darlin’, is this what I’ve done to you?”

Bonnie shook her head to affirm, hands finding respite on his shoulders. She must’ve remembered him confiding to her that he didn’t quite like having the scars on his back touched because she never let those kind fingers of hers cross his invisible boundary once. He was grateful, cadaveric heart swelling at her consideration for him even during such a carnal moment.

Astarion’s finger soared to her clit, mindful of his claw-like nails harming her by mistake. He found her nub swollen and enlivened as she contracted her slit. His finger traced a halo, circling it, paying blissful tithes to the rapacious spot. The way she moaned his name made him bask, pride filling his ego as a man that could confidently brag he brought satisfaction to a woman like Bonnie. Then, his digit stroked her clit directly, spreading her slippery labia to ensure that little bundle of nerves got the attention it deserved. 

“Oh my gods…right there!” she wailed, sweat beading on her face.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised, compressing his stiff dick into her thigh for relief. 

She shivered when his weight pinned her tits to his naked chest and he began to hump her thigh in succession with every pass he made over her throbbing clit. He bit back a filthy grunt as he chased after his ecstasy on her leg, images of that depraved mouth of hers gorged with his rock hard girth. 

“I want you to make me cum,” she deliberately whined, tongue dipping into his mouth to twirl round the tip of his. He presumed she must’ve gotten a taste of the mint leaves he chewed earlier because she crept her tongue further in and massaged along the topside of his tongue with an audible “mmm.”

“When I do,” he roughly hissed on a notable buck into her thigh, letting her catch her breath, “you’re going to look so exquisite coming undone on my fingers.”

The tip of his finger edged along her whetted inner lips until it found her gaping pussy hole. He inserted an inch into her, testing the scalding snugness. A tight fit, but he already knew she would take his cock so well when the time came. He groaned, practically drooling when she automatically clenched onto him. Bonnie sobbed, positioning those hips to rock further on the inches he had yet to stick in. 

As he sensed her climax growing closer, he skirted his razored cuspids across her taut neck, signaling he was going to asphyxiate his fangs in her blood. Bonnie smirked and angled her head for him to settle his mouth onto his preferred area. He licked a particularly salivating region, marking the balmy pastel blue vein frantically chirring.

The pallid elf nuzzled his lips into her, aware of her nervousness. “Breathe,” he cooed. 

Drawn out deep breaths puffed from her puckered mouth one after the other until she shut her eyes. “R-Ready.”

Astarion’s jaw unlatched and his icy teeth sank and sank and sank into the delicate peel of her flesh. At that precise moment, he had two revelations: thinking creature’s blood had to be the most addictive substance in the world and Bonnie’s cunt was as greedy to be fucked as his need to feed. 

Was there ever a lovelier sound than her gasping when he plunged his fangs and fingers into her at the same time?

Syrupy nectar flooded his mouth and he could have sworn he was already intoxicated off a singular gulp. His five senses sharpened, two hundred years worth of forced malnutrition morphing into what could only be described as happiness. That crimson combusted throughout him, igniting his body with heat. He proved himself wrong believing his shaft couldn’t fatten anymore than usual, but gods, one sip from her and it was viciously tenting his trousers.

Yet, somewhere in the crux of his ravenous appetite being sated, he thought he heard a shrill voice echoing mummified orders. Astarion tepidly retracted from his feast, unconsciously lazing his lunges into Bonnie’s wetness. Blood dribbled down his chin like some famished mongrel as he adjusted his hearing to zone in on the sounds.

He peeked at her face, lost to the throes of pleasure. Didn’t she hear it too?

“I’m going to cum soon,” she cried out high-pitched, snapping him out of his thoughts. Bonnie’s vaginal walls were quaking, fixing to orgasm the instant he crooked his fingers.

“Hmm? Yes, darlin’, cum for me,” he replied, struggling to redirect his salient thought-wandering.

Vulgar words exited her mouth while he burrowed his fingers inside her, ushering her pressuring climax. Canines latched back onto the wounds he created and nursed a few more mouthfuls of blood. His fingers pumped at a slightly faster speed while gently thumbing her clit, rising from her neck only to sweetly encourage her. And when her pussy convulsed, she sang his name and praises with a prolonged moan that accompanied the torrential liquid bombarding his fingertips.  

Admiration for Bonnie’s form in his arms as he roused her orgasmic glow, should have filled him with a kind of joy bringing about an otherwise loving experience for the woman he’d fallen for, but instead, he felt nothing. He quickly blamed it on that distracting muffled voice stagnating on the precipice of his tried and true fears, hellsbent on giving himself a fair shake to try sharing pleasure with her again.

Astarion slid his soaked fingers out as her intensity subsided and eased her to sit upright. “Did that feel okay?”

Gradually, her vision refocused, tremors reducing to mini bouts of gooseflesh. “Are you kiddin’? I don’t think anyone has ever made me cum that hard in my life!”

He clicked his tongue. “I guess they weren’t trying hard enough.”

She tousled his snowy waves, amused at his brief frown mussing up his coif. “Or maybe it’s because it was you.” 

“They ain’t call me the ‘Buckin’ Bronco’ fer nothin’, lil’ lady,” he jested in a fake thicker accent.

“Literally no one calls you that,” she snickered, rolling her eyes. “And if they did, you’d knife them.”

He kissed her temple, snorting into her hairline. “I hate to admit you’re right, but gods, it is rather awful, isn’t it?” 

Bonnie stretched to tickle his chin, drying blood adhering to her nail. She ironed it between her inquisitive finger ends. “Oh! Hold on.” Collecting a bunched portion of her skirt hem, she spit on it, proceeding to dab it on his chin. “Blood smears.”

Lines crumpled his browline. He cautiously pawed at the puncture marks. “Speaking of, how bad did it hurt?”

“Would you think me a freak if I said it felt sorta…nice?”

A dramatic hand flew to his chest. “Bonnie Sparrows, did you just admit to being turned on by being bitten?!”

For a beat, her suggestive glance flitted to his deviant smugness. She vacuumed in her lips to wet them, mindfully resuming her labor on his chin. “I sure did.” Wanton thing couldn’t hide her desires even if she tried—which she wasn’t. 

The bulging outline in his trousers was still firm when he navigated Bonnie to stall her caretaking to caress it. “Aah. You’re certainly not the only one,” he replied with a pained exhale.

A flush plagued the expanse of her décolletage as she gave his erection feather-light pats, obviously unsure of how he liked to be touched. Hiding his increasing impatience, needing friction like something fierce, he kissed her, bowing her back as he coaxed her to lay onto the grass once more. Bonnie balanced herself onto her forearms, bare breasts shuddering with anticipation. 

Astarion sat back on his knees and unbuttoned his fly, accidentally ripping one of the buttons clear off in his jittery haste. “Hmph. Guess I won’t be needing that,” he acknowledged lightheartedly. 

Double bouts of barreling laughter conjoined, temporarily breaking the ice. 

He sighed. “You would think I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, you haven’t with me.” She squinted at him, scanning his expressions. “Um, do you still want to—?”

Bending to grab her knee, he pecked the inside. “I need to. I want to.” He needed to be healed. He wanted to feel different.

Trousers lowering to his hips, he winced as his pre-cum covered swollenness bobbed out. Cock head was a feverish pink, warmed by her blood coursing through. He spit into his palm for extra lubrication and stroked his tip a few times, boastfully smiling as he watched her study his impressive member. 

Stars were higher in the sky by now, the lulling breeze grazing their bodies seemed to cradle all their dreams and fondness for each other on its gusts. He lined himself up to enter her, gripping his shaft to impeccably angle it into her on that first thrust. They pressed their foreheads together, Bonnie arcing herself onto his shoulders, and moaned in unison as his crown stretched her inch by agonizing inch until he was fully rooted inside. 

His jaw and lips were bombarded with an onslaught of kisses, babbling endearments that made him dizzy. He slowed his undulating hips, allowing her pussy’s creaminess to smother him as she adjusted to his girth. 

“Ungh, Bon…B-Bonnie…so tight and,” he warbled, taking half of his length out and shoving it back in, “deep.”

She kissed his brow above his right eye. “Are you…okay?”

A blissful shiver crawled down his spine. “It just…ngh…feels different. Fuck, it feels—” 

“Beautiful” was what he wanted to say. What an odd word to describe how their intimacy felt, like it was a sensation he was being introduced to for the first time. Yet, to him, it was perfect.

Astarion glued his eyes shut, there was no bile wanting to spew from his stomach pit nor were there those loathful drudgeries digging holes into brain. Being inside her, connecting in this manner, was pure delight. 

“Feels different…haa…for me too,” she said on a jagged intake of air.

Astarion couldn’t comprehend what she meant by that. She wasn’t a virgin, having taken some men and women into her bed during her one hundred and forty-five year lifespan. Could have been the sex itself and finally having each other. But, when he chanced a peer into those white water blues, he thought he saw a glimmer of an unconditional emotion woven into her irises that filled him with a percolating doubt.

To rid himself of his ideations, he nested into the crook of her neck, bathing in the scent of soapy remnants on her flesh, and drove into her a few more times to evaluate her comfort. She reacted with more clamoring sobs, embracing his prick with her hot slit. Then—

“Yeowch!”

He immediately ceased. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Stop for a minute. I think a stick is tryin’ to make its way into my butt,” Bonnie giggled. She reached behind her naked ass to pluck out the offending intruder. “Aha!”

Taking the stick from her, Astarion tossed it in a direction he wasn’t paying attention to. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption because,” he wreathed her legs around his waist, tenderly kissing her breast valley, “I don’t think I’m going to last long.”

She beamed at him, as innocently as she could pretend, running a finger along his ear’s helix. “You can cum inside me if you’d like.”

“Gods…” His dick flexed inside her, spurred on by her treacherous invitation. He was damned near ready to explode as it was, but hearing her utter such a shameless appeal made him want to fuck her as hard as she’d allow. 

His thrusts began anew, this time going quicker than previously. Astarion glided his hand between his thighs, giving her over sensitive clit a gentle swab. Bonnie’s walls quivered as he filled her, a stocking ungracefully sliding down her leg while her heels dug into his lower back. She wailed when he found her nipple once more, heartlessly punishing it with added suckles. 

“‘Starion?” Bonnie implored, legs shaking like a leaf. 

He led a crusade of kisses to her mouth, all the while pounding in smooth drawn-out propels as her hands scrambled for purchase in his hair. Sweat pooled in the tragus above her plump lips, tresses wild with tangles from rubbing against the earth. Her skin was a bright red, freckles standing out as teeny brown constellations inked across the sky that was her face.

Bonnie cupped his cheeks, shifting her eyes back and forth, and Astarion knew what she was going to say before she said it. “I-I love you, Astarion.”

He’d seen that exact phrase swirling around her pupils like a dust storm earlier, unable to properly prepare himself for it. But, did he love her? Could he unabashedly admit that he loved this woman named Bonnie Sparrows that treated him as an equal and someone worthy of love in every imaginable way possible? Had everything they went through led up to this finite moment where he realized that he felt love for another person again during these unending decades that he spent in misery and isolation?

Yes. Astarion was, without a doubt, madly in love with Bonnie.

He stared back at her, leaning to mouth his confession against her lips. “I lo—”

“Boy, you are a fool,” a piercing tone shot through his thoughts. “She doesn’t love you. She loves what pleasure your cock can bring to her.”

“No. No. NO! You’re dead! You’re fucking dead!”

“Insolent boy! When will you learn that no matter if I am dead or alive, I will ALWAYS be with you,” the Reverend’s voice stated. “How about you slice open that pretty neck of hers so I can see how much she bleeds! Ahahahaha.”

Despite Astarion’s liberation, he still had a distinct fright of what lurked beyond the shadows.  Incanted sordid commands and rotsome hands pushing him ‘neath dark waters that were likely a trick of the mind. Cazador was as dead as a doornail and whatever hubbub his psyche was muddling his head with, Bonnie wasn’t for his master, she was for him! 

Red. Red. Red. Everywhere red. Bonnie’s throat slit. Bonnie a corpse at Cazador’s feet. Himself fucking every dick and cunt between here and there. All for the master. Kennel chains rattling. Starvation. Weakness. Torture. He wasn’t free. HE’D NEVER BE FREE!

Astarion wished to tell her what was going on, bade her to run, but the words wouldn’t come. They were lost to him, as lost as his autonomy remained. 

That numbing dysphoria he’d grown accustomed, dispersed into his pores, shielding him from his stressful visions. He autopiloted, elevating his lover’s lower half so he could fuck into her at a speed that would make him cum and end it all. 

Bonnie gurgled out more “I love yous” as he rammed into her, tits barbarically bouncing. Damned woman was a half-wit! It wasn’t true. She could never love a damaged man like him. He was beyond repair.

She screamed his name and he screamed inwardly. Then, he came, groaning and stuttering his hips as his release emptied inside of her.

They laid in silence. Astarion stared unblinking at Bonnie while she herded away each wiley clump of curl that clung to his forehead. She didn’t look disappointed he didn’t tell her he loved her in return—maybe giving him a berth to chew on it—instead humming to herself in a state of joyful tranquility oft seen after sharing intimacies and all. 

“That was nice,” she whispered, blushing up a storm. “Did you feel okay during all that?”

He finally blinked, masking his sorrow with enthusiasm. “It felt wonderful! You are wonderful, darlin’.”

Astarion guided out his limping cock, putting it behind his trouser’s fly. Unable to do anything more than a clinical cleaning, he used his shirt to clean her whole body down from head to foot, dusting sweat and wiping away mixed bodily fluids. He was downright ashamed of himself, barely able to look at her.

Bonnie clasped her corset, adjusting its cover with concentrated effort in lieu of the yawns now seeping out. She threw her arms round his middle and squished him tight. “Love, I think I am all tuckered out! Mind if we rest here for a bit before that sun starts rising?”

He kissed the crown of her head, cradling it into his chest. “I’ll stand guard in case any hooligans wander by. Trance for a while. I’ll wake you when it’s time to head out.”

After those subsequent yawns, it didn’t take much until she was snoozing peacefully in his lap. He let the clock tick away hour by hour for as long as he could, imprinting her scent and slumbering noises into his memory, until he reckoned he should get a move on. 

He wasn’t certain if he was making the right choice, but he knew it was the compromise that may save them both. Didn’t matter how far he was willing to go to prevent it, Bonnie still became a victim—an unknowing victim to his trauma at that. And through that sickness that struck him, Astarion was all too aware that he could probably never provide her with the life she deserved.

He shepherded her head to lay on his crumpled up shirt and gave her a tearful kiss on her hand, a hushed ode to love murmured into her skin. “Ai armiel telere maenan hir. You hold my heart forever, my love.”

When he glanced back a final time at that orange chrysanthemum in the shape of a woman he cared for, laying exposed as a vulnerable lamb in the chill air, he knew their delicate feelings that brought life to his grave for one night had been love. 

The phantom of Cazador Szarr may consume that same love he felt for her, but his leaving meant his master couldn’t consume hers too. And the only kind of love he ever deserved, would always be at the end of a whip.

Snippet Sunday Tuesday?

Thank you for the tags, @roguishcat and @kalmiaphlox! I loved your WIPs!

I’m never on time, so here’s a little bit of Chapter 12 of Indelible Imprints now instead of Sunday lol.

Chapters 1-11 on AO3 and the pinned post on my blog!

Flare adjusts to new levels of intimacy

Read on AO3

Astarion lingered more with the tiefling youths, able to show them where their tails should move to help with balance, how to tilt their heads to duck beneath their opponents arms without catching their horns on a sleeve. In her weeks at the school, Flare had observed that Astarion remained one of the few adults the tiefling youths showed open admiration for, Dame Aylin and Halsin being the other two. Not that they were troublesome with others, but the awe in their expressions was so apparent with the three. Flare expected she was no better at times. 

The class ended and Astarion shooed away the kids to get their midday meal as he walked over to Flare. She snapped her journal closed before Astarion could peek at the blank pages. He smirked at her anyway, probably noticing that her pen had never moved while she sat looking. “Enjoy watching me, darling?” Astarion teased.

WIP Whenever!

Thank you for tagging me @khywren !!! 🖤🩷🖤🩷

I have some more crumbs for Chapter 8 of With Stars to Fill My Dream, coming out Sunday!

This is the more fun, less anger fueled section of the chapter. Heavy emphasis on the word fun! (Fun fact, long ago I posted a snippet of this exact passage, but much has changed since then!)

Rather than being able to hear and see his thoughts manifest, his vampiric connection threads their emotions together like a silken tapestry of color. A pretty blend of red, orange, and green blooms like fireworks against a dark sky, dazzling behind her eyelids. She isn’t sure if it’s him, or her, or the both of them, but god it’s beautiful. It courses through her until the tingling starts, cruising up and down her nervous system to burn her core and singe her fingertips. She’s never felt a desire this intense, not even on her own. It’s all-consuming, raging like a fire where before she’d been submerged in ice.

As her tears start to dry on her cheeks, she slips a hand from covering her mouth to instead tentatively thread through his curls. His hair is soft, cool like lace as it tickles her knuckles. He doesn’t seem to mind, and she gently scrapes her nails over his scalp, earning a thrust of his hips. She gasps and her vision sparks, his hands moving to her waist to clench tightly as she bites back a crude moan. The usual voice of reason in her head is being uncharacteristically silent, and she can’t help but yield to instinct in its place.

The fingers of her other hand move up to his neck, softly pressing her palm over his Adam's apple, and she’s lulled into a trance by the rhythmic bobbing of every swallow. She can’t see his face, but she can feel a smile in the shape of his lips on her skin and it burns her cheeks, making her shiver and sigh into the night air

My people! I am tagging you again, and I'm sorry if it's twice. Please ignore if so!

@preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @verbenaa @inkymoonbunny @justabiteofspite @sashitf

With Stars to Fill My Dream (8) - Born in Blood I'm Not Like You

Hi everybody!!! I drew this!! It's Ofelia!!! 💖💖💖

I'm getting back into the groove of digital art, so please excuse any mistakes- I have given up on perfecting blending, so I'm happy with this. 😊 Her top is from the Bardic Finery mod!

I know there's a warning stated below, but this chapter does have more canon-typical violence and gore than any chapter before it! Please keep that in mind before reading!

You're in for a treat this chapter- in addition to the violence, we have some steamy crumbs! Please enjoy ❤

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,629

Opening below the cut!

A cool, dark sky sprawls out before her, thunder clapping in the distance. She waits in front of a red door, ornate stained glass decorating either side of it. A figure approaches from within, blurred by the filigree and texture, before it opens.

Many scenes flash by: meeting the potential adopters. They’re a pretty couple in their late forties, accompanied by their only son. His blue eyes are cold and piercing. She hates that he stares at her the entire time. She sees her room, blank and dull. Cool tones. Grays. The emptiness of it haunts her over the next seven months.

It doesn’t start bad.

She’s used to the distance and adjustment period. She uses the unnatural silence she wouldn’t have had back at her last foster home to excel in all her classes. She’s determined to apply for those good scholarships next year- wants them to carry her out of this bleak life.

With Stars to Fill My Dream (8) - Born in Blood I'm Not Like You

Hi everybody!!! I drew this!! It's Ofelia!!! 💖💖💖

I'm getting back into the groove of digital art, so please excuse any mistakes- I have given up on perfecting blending, so I'm happy with this. 😊 Her top is from the Bardic Finery mod!

I know there's a warning stated below, but this chapter does have more canon-typical violence and gore than any chapter before it! Please keep that in mind before reading!

You're in for a treat this chapter- in addition to the violence, we have some steamy crumbs! Please enjoy ❤

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,629

Opening below the cut!

A cool, dark sky sprawls out before her, thunder clapping in the distance. She waits in front of a red door, ornate stained glass decorating either side of it. A figure approaches from within, blurred by the filigree and texture, before it opens.

Many scenes flash by: meeting the potential adopters. They’re a pretty couple in their late forties, accompanied by their only son. His blue eyes are cold and piercing. She hates that he stares at her the entire time. She sees her room, blank and dull. Cool tones. Grays. The emptiness of it haunts her over the next seven months.

It doesn’t start bad.

She’s used to the distance and adjustment period. She uses the unnatural silence she wouldn’t have had back at her last foster home to excel in all her classes. She’s determined to apply for those good scholarships next year- wants them to carry her out of this bleak life.

Ty for the comments so far! I'm glad this new plot twist was a suprise!

With Stars to Fill My Dream (8) - Born in Blood I'm Not Like You

Hi everybody!!! I drew this!! It's Ofelia!!! 💖💖💖

I'm getting back into the groove of digital art, so please excuse any mistakes- I have given up on perfecting blending, so I'm happy with this. 😊 Her top is from the Bardic Finery mod!

I know there's a warning stated below, but this chapter does have more canon-typical violence and gore than any chapter before it! Please keep that in mind before reading!

You're in for a treat this chapter- in addition to the violence, we have some steamy crumbs! Please enjoy ❤

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,629

Opening below the cut!

A cool, dark sky sprawls out before her, thunder clapping in the distance. She waits in front of a red door, ornate stained glass decorating either side of it. A figure approaches from within, blurred by the filigree and texture, before it opens.

Many scenes flash by: meeting the potential adopters. They’re a pretty couple in their late forties, accompanied by their only son. His blue eyes are cold and piercing. She hates that he stares at her the entire time. She sees her room, blank and dull. Cool tones. Grays. The emptiness of it haunts her over the next seven months.

It doesn’t start bad.

She’s used to the distance and adjustment period. She uses the unnatural silence she wouldn’t have had back at her last foster home to excel in all her classes. She’s determined to apply for those good scholarships next year- wants them to carry her out of this bleak life.

With Stars to Fill My Dream (8) - Born in Blood I'm Not Like You

Hi everybody!!! I drew this!! It's Ofelia!!! 💖💖💖

I'm getting back into the groove of digital art, so please excuse any mistakes- I have given up on perfecting blending, so I'm happy with this. 😊 Her top is from the Bardic Finery mod!

I know there's a warning stated below, but this chapter does have more canon-typical violence and gore than any chapter before it! Please keep that in mind before reading!

You're in for a treat this chapter- in addition to the violence, we have some steamy crumbs! Please enjoy ❤

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,629

Opening below the cut!

A cool, dark sky sprawls out before her, thunder clapping in the distance. She waits in front of a red door, ornate stained glass decorating either side of it. A figure approaches from within, blurred by the filigree and texture, before it opens.

Many scenes flash by: meeting the potential adopters. They’re a pretty couple in their late forties, accompanied by their only son. His blue eyes are cold and piercing. She hates that he stares at her the entire time. She sees her room, blank and dull. Cool tones. Grays. The emptiness of it haunts her over the next seven months.

It doesn’t start bad.

She’s used to the distance and adjustment period. She uses the unnatural silence she wouldn’t have had back at her last foster home to excel in all her classes. She’s determined to apply for those good scholarships next year- wants them to carry her out of this bleak life.

to eden | chapter 8

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “You spoil me darling, really. But I am simple man—” Rin stops him off with a look of admonishment, cutting off his sentence to start her own.

“A simple show for a simple man, then.”She hopes her emphasis on the words will speak loudly enough for him to understand the meaning of them as she mockingly bows towards him.

“I take offense to that assessment, you know.” Astarion huffs with a frown, casting his head aside to instead take a sip of his errant goblet of wine, already forgotten beside him.

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F!Tav

𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E, 18+

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 14.8k 😮‍💨

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: mentions of torture/abuse, mild descriptions of blood/gore, striptease (?), fingering, cunnilingus, vampire bites (duh), handjobs, piv sex, multiple orgasms, Soft Dom Astarion returns 😌

𝒶/𝓃: hellooooo, sorry it's taken so long for me to get this written and posted! but it's here now and I very much hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts about the chapter, too!

ao3

masterlist

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

The air is quiet, the ever-present darkness lingering around them like a stagnant weight. Rin finds that she quite hates it, no matter how lovely the promise the warmth of Last Light Inn and its alcohol is to be. 

Her fingers are poised on one of the delicate strings of her lyre as she strums it lightly, a low hum reverberating out from the instrument that fills the air with what she hopes will be something that sounds effortless, beautiful, ethereal.

She frowns at the sound of it from where she leans against a conveniently placed rock near the fire, the note falling flat as it dies in the silence of the dark night.

“You’re off.” A familiar voice echoes out from above, the sound of it supercilious and downright annoying, as she huffs out a breath in minute agitation.

With a turn of her head, Rin sends Astarion a withering look from where he lounges, imperious, on the rock right above her; a book held in his hand as he reads by the light of the roaring fire. 

“And so is your stitching, but you don’t hear me calling you out on it, now do you?”

His stitching wasn’t, of course. It was always practiced, perfect, and near precise—Astarion as good with a needle as he was with a knife or an arrow. 

But, as always, he didn’t have to know that. He has enough of an ego as it is and Rin has no intentions of adding to it unnecessarily.

Astarion flips the page with unnecessary force, his obvious agitation dragging a secret smile to her lips that she hides into the strings of her lyre. 

He really made it far too easy to tease him, sometimes.

Astarion hmphs into the nighttime air, looking astutely back down at the book in his lap in an attempt to ignore her as she bites back a laugh that threatens to break free.

Rin turns her attention back to the instrument in her hands, fingers running down the carved edge of it as her mind wanders aimlessly in the silence and she stares out at the utterly boring landscape. 

It was pretty, she supposes, if one cared for a setting devoid of most kinds of life. Ultimately, there was just not terribly much for her to look at, leaving her with nothing but the amusement of her own thoughts, much to her frustration. 

There wasn’t much left for her to do but think, it seemed.

Rin had already eaten dinner while conversing with Gale; engaged in some gossip over a glass of wine with Shadowheart; discussed the merits of carnivorous fauna with Halsin; indulged Lae’zel in a practice sparring session (which she lost quite terribly, much to Astarion’s joy and Lae’zel’s disappointment at Rin’s apparent lack of skill); shared a nice pint from the inn with Karlach; and then watched on as Astarion drained poor Wyll dry of some gold in a game of cards (she’ll have to try to figure out how to get him his money back, one way or another).

She would probably have to beg Astarion to do it—something she was not eager to do, but would for the sake of Wyll and all his noble, princely goodness. 

Perhaps she should try to steal it off of him, instead. It certainly would make for a good challenge, at the very least, provided she didn’t get caught doing it. Rin has no doubt the cost for that particular crime would be steep, one that she doesn’t know if she can afford to pay for.

Astarion already spent enough time in her thoughts as it was, the price nothing more than that of her precious yet dwindling sanity. She already feels as though she is slowly losing her mind every time she replays the events of the other night over in her head, no longer than a mere week ago.

She and Astarion had both quite politely ignored the events of that night, the memory of the closeness of their lips and the things she had said settling into the recesses of her mind as if they were nothing more than a dream, one that haunts her when she lays down her head onto her sad excuse for a pillow. 

It was a lapse in judgment, at the very least. The klauthgrass had clearly addled her mind more than she thought when she looks back on it. It’s the only logical reason she would ever had said the things she did—whether spoken from her lips or written down in a letter never to be sent. 

She also still needed to burn the damn letter, but that was neither here nor there.

What mattered was that they had settled back into their usual camaraderie, trading cutting words and sly smiles back and forth with one another as they had always done despite a brand new, gently simmering tension that now lay just underneath the surface.

But it was fine. 

Rin was nothing if not an expert at ignoring the things that were bothering her, was she not? Their little…situation was simply that. 

A situation. 

One that was easily forgettable once she set her mind to actually forgetting about it.

Rin trades that particular line of thinking out with a deep exhale, shoving it back into a conveniently placed box in a corner of her mind and instead sets to retuning the instrument in her hands, worn pine both familiar and comforting as its weight rests against her.

Her wonderful, familiar lyre that had been with her for years now, through both thick and thin. It hadn’t helped her make terribly much gold, but it had been a better friend to her than any person had over the years.

She turns the pegs on the back of it little by little, tiny twists of her fingers adjusting the strings in a way she hopes will make her next attempt at song better and not worse. 

The night flows by as she sits in the warmth of the fire, the soft crackles of the logs soothing as Rin retunes the instrument until she’s finally happy with what she hopes will be a drastic improvement to the earlier noise it had made.

With a satisfied sigh, Rin moves to strum at her lyre, fingers just about to touch the strings when a biting voice interrupts her.

“I do hope you didn’t make it worse. My poor ears can’t take much more abuse.”

Rin ignores the jab with a serene blink before deigning not to answer as her raised hand closes into a fist, nails biting into her palm as she prays to anyone listening for an ounce of patience.

In lieu of violence—despite him deserving it—she sees a perfect opportunity to turn the conversation from another of her apparent failures onto one of his instead.  

She turns to look at him with a sly look, fixing him with clever eyes alight with mischief. 

“You know, Astarion, I happened to read something quite interesting in one of the books I found at The Waning Moon.”

Astarion turns another page in his book as he feigns disinterest, but his eyes don’t scan the rows of elvish decorating the page in neatly printed rows. “Oh? Do tell, then. Was it something violent? Gory? Scandalous?” 

“Scandalous, certainly. I seem to have come across a small little volume that contained a list,” Rin’s brows waggle conspiratorially. “A list of banned patrons.”

Astarion’s interest is firmly piqued as soon as she says the words, finally looking up from the tome in his lap to focus on her, indifference giving way to a fiendish gleam in his eye.

“You should have said so from the start. Tell me more, darling, what are the offenses? Give me all the sordid details.” 

He leans in closer from his seat above her, Astarion and his flair for the dramatic never failing to amuse her and she can’t help the equally wicked smile that spreads across her lips in response.

“Most of them were ordinary—you know, the standard. Bar fights, skipping the bill, unnecessary wanton activity with a pickle. But there was one that really stuck out to me, quite a striking description frankly. I think it said something along the lines of ‘a pale elf with a snide mouth’ that apparently insulted someone of particular importance. Sound familiar?”

“Well, whoever they are sounds like they had a fantastic time to me.” His smile is devious as he smirks. “In fact, I’d say that whoever it was deserved such words.” 

“Oh, I have no doubt. I’m sure the insults thrown were of the highest calibre, as well.” 

Astarion grin is a roguish one that looks terribly handsome on his features but something heavy intercedes over the amusement in his eyes as the deeper meaning behind that seemingly small and unimportant notation sinks in.

The smirk falls slowly from Astarion’s lips, a slight darkness settling across the features of his face as the corners of his mouth turn down ever so slightly.

Ah. Of course. 

“You have no memory of ever coming here, do you?” She softens her voice, only slightly, but she has no doubt Astarion notices the change regardless.

“No. I’ve already told you I don’t have many memories from my life before Cazador,” He snaps. “But clearly I’ve here before. Obviously.”

Rin had given some thought to the presumed Astarion of before in the rare moments of peace that were few and far in between, when her mind was free to wander before sleep overtook her. 

The Astarion that existed before the tadpole, before Cazador. Back when his heart still beat and his skin was flushed with life. Astarion, with not-red eyes, wearing finely tailored silks and wools, drinking the richest of wines; for he was sure to have been wealthy. 

She had spent many years watching the upper echelons of Baldur’s Gate from her place on the streets, staring up into their windows at twilight to watch them swoon and twirl in their finery, and Astarion moved like the best of them—graceful and elegant, proud and arrogant.

He had been a magistrate, or so he had said. 

She could only trust so many of the words that come from his lips, but somehow the image of Astarion in ostentatious robes handing down whatever judgement he deemed worthy is far too easy for her to envision for her to entirely disbelieve the notion.

But he must have had a family, surely. 

Parents, siblings, friends—perhaps even a lover or two. Or three, knowing him. 

Gods forbid he had sired any children.

But the implication remains all the same. So many questions, almost all of which he may never know the answers to. 

“You should be proud, Astarion.” Rin attempts a tiny bit of levity, though it doesn’t seem to help. “An annoyance both alive and undead. Not many could ever hope to achieve such a thing.”

“Well,” he sniffs with an air of put-on pride, smile weak. “It’s nice to know I’m consistent, at least.”

“You did get thrown out of a tavern last time you were here. Perhaps this trip to sweet, little Reithwin is faring much better than the one prior. Your last visit didn’t have me present, after all.”

“My last visit was probably still more peaceful, I’d wager. I doubt I was busy being vexed by a senseless blonde bard all the while having a worm buried in my head.” His voice raises a few octaves as he narrows his eyes at her. 

She would rather have his ire than his sorrow, it’s a much better sight than the mournful look beginning to creep over his features.

“Presumably weren’t being vexed by a senseless blonde bard.” Rin shoots Astarion a small smile. “Maybe you have a type.”

He only gives a mirthless laugh in response. 

“I am sorry, Astarion. I wish you were able to remember more.”

Astarion sighs, uncharacteristically defeated and the sound of it has her chest tightening. 

“Yet another thing I can add to the unending list of things that Cazador took from me. From us.”

“Us?” Rin muses over the word, the answer to a question she had long considered but never managed to ask, not amongst the seemingly never-ending amount of things that popped up on their list to be taken care of. “So, you aren’t the only one, then? Of Cazador’s spawn, I mean.”

She briefly worries she’s overstepped an invisible boundary, that Astarion will shut her down and storm away without another word, leaving her with no answer to the question.

Her curiosity about him grows with every passing day and she simply wants to know more about him. 

Not the charming, surface level vanity he would normally put forward for her, but the real Astarion. 

The one who tells her and only her small stories about himself and his life, the one who responds to her silly little letters, the one who had thanked her, with actual gratitude, drawing of his scars in hand.

The Astarion who—for some unfathomable reason—no matter how much he may complain or insult her, still chooses her above all others to spend his time with.

Rin turns to look up at him, the straightening of his spine obvious even in the darkness of the camp. Astarion, for his part, takes her question in stride, though there’s a telltale tightness around his mouth that signals his ever-present bitterness at Cazador’s mention.

He nods, the motion stiff as Rin’s brows draw together into a frown.

“There were seven of us, in all. Brothers and sisters, as he liked to call us. Quite the family.” Astarion lets out a derisive laugh, words acrimonious as he spits them out.

Ruby red eyes look ahead, his gaze catching on nothing in particular as he stares at the barren world on the other side of the water, the landscape as bleak as his expression.

“But I was one of his first. He was a monster to us all. Tortured us. Carved the same thing into my back as he did into all of theirs. But Cazador took a special pleasure in my pain. In my screams. He said my screams sounded sweetest.”

And oh, how her heart twists to hear the fragile timbre of his voice as his breath hitches, an undercurrent of agony flowing so readily and truthful from him. 

Rin averts her eyes as his voice breaks on the last few words, settling her vision on one of the red ferns flowing in the ever-present breeze in an attempt to let him keep some of his suffering to himself, to leave some of his dignity in tact.

It’s the least she can do. 

“And now that I’m gone…I don’t know. I pity the other six.” Astarion takes a deep, bracing breath, his sorrow palpable, and Rin’s chest aches again.

She doesn’t have anything to say, and how could she?

Oh, terribly sorry you spent two centuries being tortured unendingly. That must have been awful. You didn’t deserve it, Astarion.

No, any words of consolation she has only seem to fall flat in the face of his misery. He doesn’t need her to tell him about how horrible it is, how neither he nor his siblings deserved the pain, the anguish, the endless torture that Cazador dished out on a whim to bend and break them all to his will.

The only thing Rin can think to give him is her own paltry attempt at comfort as she leans in towards him slowly until her head rests just against the side of his leg in silent consolation. 

He doesn’t like to be touched at the best of times, but somehow she knows he would hate the inevitable pity he would choose to find in her words much worse. 

Astarion freezes, muscles tensing as if in wait for something, sending a sharp look down at the messily braided head now resting against his knee. But when nothing other than the presence of her subtle weight leaning against him ever comes, the only movement she makes the easy in and out of her breathing, he relaxes slightly.

Rin doesn’t dare to look up at him, instead returning her attention back to the lyre still in her arms. With a careful hand, her fingers come up to strum at a string, followed by another and another and another; music flowing out from the instrument in a slow, soft melody.

It’s nothing in particular that the plays; no well-known song or tune, only a series of notes and chords she pieces together with minimal thought that somehow manages to sound more lovely than anything she’s had luck playing the past week.

Eventually, she hears the soft rustle of a page being flipped once more as Astarion returns to his book, no words spoken to break the silence between them as Rin keeps her head resting just against him, playing her song just for him.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧ 

She should know better, by now, than to ever be surprised by the horrors they come across—and yet, as she had walked into the operating theatre of the so-called House of Healing, her footsteps quiet over the dark, ornate, and rotting woodwork, she still managed to be shocked by what she beheld as she had peeked over the railing.

She had noticed the man first. It was impossible to not have when his blood, a bright red incarnadine, was splattered across the walls and dripping onto the floors in sickly streams. She followed the trail of it to the source, taking in the carnage of his body; eyes no more than bloodied pits and mouth opened in silent scream as he writhes on the table, somehow still alive despite the butchering of his body. 

A moment later, her eyes drifted over to Doctor Malus Thorm in all his horror; elbow deep in his victim’s innards with hands that were no longer quite hands, digits turned instead into some sort of mechanical claws as he lectures aloud to the sightless nurses who stood uselessly around the body.

She had stepped into that theatre expecting a battle, her own blood to be added to all that had already been spilled and soaked into the grooves in the wood over the many years. 

Instead, she managed something quite different. Something possibly worse.

She hadn’t assumed that she would be able to kill him with only her words, not when the menace of him spelled violence and promised pain, a Shar devotee to the bitter end. 

And yet, it was with words that she had convinced him to sacrifice himself to his nurses, a dark turn of events that somehow seemed to fit the narrative of this terrible place all too well. 

She blames the power she feels when his body finally gives its last, miserable breath on the shadow curse, on the innate darkness of this place, on the tadpole. 

Any excuse works, so long as it covers up the fact that she had liked it.

It was the very same power she had felt when the other two Thorms fell; silvered words falling off her tongue to bend them to her will and end them both without her having to lift a single, gloved finger.

It had only been a small inconvenience to finish off the remaining Sisters of Mercy after they had done Rin’s dirty work for her, their trepans and bonesaws no match for her rapier, Karlach’s axe, Shadowheart’s spells, and Astarion’s blood thirst.

Her heart still beats too quick, the sound of it loud in her ears as she stands stock still on a bated breath—in fear, in anxiety, in a strange and twisted excitement.

It’s both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. 

Rin wants nothing to do with it.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Shadowheart remarks quietly with a laugh from beside her, breaking the silence of the aftermath. There’s a new awe present in the cleric’s voice that Rin hates the sound of.

Rin looks at her friend with a small smile. “So long as you don’t get in the way of me and a good time, we’ll be dandy.”

“I wouldn’t dare after that performance.” Shadowheart laughs, a twinkling little sound, and it breaks up a bit of the nerves that had settled in her chest.

“Well. That was positively sickening. Who knew there would be so much fun to be found here?” Astarion sheathes his dagger with a twist of his wrist, the added flourish elegant as blood flicks off the blade and splatters onto the ground. “Though I do wish for a more satisfying kill. I’m in desperate need of a snack.”

Karlach claps a hand on Astarion’s shoulder with enough force that he only just manages to keep his footing. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find something else alive for you to sink your fangs into.”

“Does all that blood not quite do it for you, Astarion?” Shadowheart gestures with a raised brow to the drops of blood still dripping off of the surgical table, a nauseating mixture of both the man's and Thorm’s blending together.

“Hardly.” Astarion crinkles his nose at the thick, dark ichor. “I’ve had worse, but it smells terrible and I can’t imagine it tastes much better.”

Rin glances up at Astarion beside her, taking in his somehow paler than normal complexion and a thought hits her, her brow furrowing in consideration.

When was the last time he had fed? 

And what on? 

He had been subsisting on a diet of—well, mostly her, honestly; along with the occasional forest creature.

Astarion certainly hadn’t tasted her since their last night on the Mountain Pass, longer than he’s ever gone without her blood since his first feed from her all those moons ago.

Rin had become so used to his little visits, popping into her tent during the evening to have his fill of her—blood and more. The absence of them since has felt surprisingly stark, a loss she didn’t realize she would mourn in the wake of the palpable tension that had settled between them no matter how hard they each attempted to ignore it.

For just as surely as he hadn’t drank from her neck, he had not come to taste the rest of her either; their nights spent instead trading remarks back and forth by the fire.

Not that she was complaining. 

Quite the contrary. 

She had found herself growing quite fond of this new aspect of their relationship that they had eased into; trading stories and anecdotes with each other over a bottle of wine or a game of cards, he reading his books while she plays her music, Astarion working on his stitching as she looks on and inevitably bothers him with her presence. 

It was…nice. Normal, almost. 

Or whatever their version of nice and normal was.

Rin snaps herself out of her thoughts with a blink and turns to her companions with a nod, hoping the daze she was in doesn’t show on her face. “Right then. Let’s loot, shall we?”

They meander their way about the rest of the room, navigating their way around the bodies and books scattered about the floor, some of the thin pages now soaked with the blood of the fallen. They don’t find terribly much, some gold here or an interesting text there. 

But mostly, it’s all useless.

Rin thinks that at one time, the quatrefoil tiles lining the floors of this place must have been beautiful—crisp, clean white contrasting against vibrant blue. 

Now, though, they are covered in long streaks of dark, sticky blood, the ichor long staining tile and grout alike; the corners of them chipping as they step over them on their way out of the long hallway at the entry of the building. 

Rin falls back beside Astarion as they make their way onto the uneven cobblestones of Reithwin, gnarled roots threatening to trip her as they grow up in between the grooves. With a small smile and nod, she gestures for Shadowheart to take the lead, the cleric walking ahead as her long braid bounces behind her.

She falls into step with him easily, matching his pace as she keeps her eyes ahead, always on the lookout for what the next danger to jump out at them will be.

“Have you been hunting recently?” It’s a casual question, no accusation in her tone as she stretches her arms behind her back.   

Astarion casts a surreptitious glance her way, eyes wandering across her profile as she stays looking ahead. “There’s precious little living here, my dear.”

“Then why haven’t you come to me? You’ve never cared about bothering me before when you would pop into my tent unannounced.” 

“I-” Astarion looks away from her for a moment before returning his gaze to her. “I assumed you needed a break to…replenish your sources."

His non-answer has one of Rin’s brows drawing up in skepticism, which he readily ignores. However, the thought of him perhaps not coming to her for her own health is almost sweet, if believable.

If. 

She’s not so sure that it’s the truth, but she will take it at face value, for now.

“Astarion,” she leans towards him to give him a slight nudge with her elbow, the touch light. “I think my ‘sources’ have been thoroughly replenished. You can feed on me tonight, if you’d like.” 

It would be careless of her, as a leader, to let him continue to starve himself. She’s only doing the most responsible thing by offering herself up to him again. It’s for the better of their entire party and Faerûn at large, wasn’t it? The Absolute wasn’t going to just disappear into thin air, after all. 

And if it happened to mean she got to spend a little extra time with him—well, that would be nothing more than luck on her part. 

“Well, if you’re offering, sweet thing,” His lips curl up in a smirk, eyes alight with a predator’s gleam at the promise of her blood. “Come find me in my tent tonight, darling, and we shall feast.”

“Feast? Shall there be something there for me then, as well?” Rin releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and glances up at him with a small, secret smile that has a corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk.

“Only the best for my favorite little treat.”

“Careful, you’ll spoil me.” If only, she thinks, and the thought is terribly traitorous as she bites down on a corner of her lip in hopes of stopping the pink that threatens to rise to her cheeks. 

But from the answering smirk on Astarion’s face as they venture further into the into the crushing darkness of Reithwin’s destroyed streets she thinks he must able to glean the thought on his own. 

“We can’t have that, now can we?”

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Rin steels herself outside the flap of Astarion’s tent, readying herself for whatever waits for her inside. She isn’t sure why she’s so nervous. It wasn’t like he hadn’t fed from her before.

Or slept with her, for that matter.

There’s no flickering flame to be seen from the outside of his tent, nothing to give her any sort of hint of what possibly awaits her inside aside from him, his silhouette undecipherable in the darkness.

With a deep breath, she pulls the flap to the side and steps forward, a familiar scent—rich brandy curling together with earthy rosemary and fresh bergamot—swirling in the air as her eyes land on the vampire in question.

“Well,” Astarion lounges casually against his bedroll as his eyes find her own, leaning back on his elbows with enviable ease as a silver goblet rests beside him. “Hello there, darling.”

Her eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of his chest, the sight of him waiting for her shirtless so reminiscent to that first night together that she pulls up short.

It felt like eons ago, now; her traipsing through the forest outside of the Emerald Grove to find him waiting in a picturesque clearing for her and her alone. While there was no soft grass with charming little flowers to decorate the ground and no glittering moonlight to beam down upon them and highlight their skin as they moved together—she feels just as out of her depth now as she did then, when she had discovered him with his shirt already off and honeyed words just waiting to fall from his lips.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long again.” Rin snatches her eyes up from his chest to meet his own, a smirk already decorating his lips at her momentary distraction.

“Oh, I’ll always wait for you, beautiful.” Her eyes roll despite herself as she lets out a huff at such trite words.

“Did you need a nibble or should I see myself out?” She points behind herself to the exit of his tent for emphasis, brow arched.

“Let’s not be hasty, shall we?” Astarion answers a touch too quickly as he sits up a little higher, body tensing as if ready to jump up in the event she were to actually leave. “I would so hate to see you go.”

He must be hungry, then, if he’s so desperate for her presence.

Rin smiles at him as she looks around the tent expectantly, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she spies not a single treat aside from an empty goblet she presumes to be for her. “You know, I recall you promising me a feast.”

Astarion has the audacity to not look even the tiniest bit sheepish as her eyes narrow and her bottom lip juts out into a pout, a noise of frustration escaping from her lips. She should have known better than to trust a vampire when it came to procuring treats.

“I’m short on baked goods, pet, but I can promise you something else delicious instead.” His intent is obvious as he sends her a decidedly suggestive look. “Won’t you give me a show first, though?”

“I didn’t realize you were in need of entertainment, Astarion. I could always bring Volo in to recite some poetry while you dine, if you’d like.” 

“A charming idea, to be sure.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “But I was thinking of something a little more…intimate.”

Astarion eyes her form tip to toe as she stands in front of him, but it lacks the casual closeness she’s come to expect from him, something in the forced insincerity of the gesture grating.

“Make yourself comfortable. Stay awhile,” He gestures passively with a wave of his hand through the air towards where she stands as he continues. “Get yourself out of those wretched clothes, for example. You look much prettier without them on, anyways.”

Irritation sparks along the line of her mouth, emerald eyes sharpening as she stares at him. Weeks ago, the words would have had her blushing and the beginnings of desire kindling in her belly; but now they fall lifeless upon her ears, none of the ease and familiarity she has come to enjoy during their little interludes present in them. 

The words are merely mechanic—as calculated and practiced as they were on that very first night.

Worse, it doesn’t even seem like he enjoys saying the words, the sound of them hollow as they leave his mouth and the smirk pasted on his lips halfhearted.

It feels utterly obvious once she realizes what he’s trying to do and she can see through his ill-prepared idea with ease, this little power play of his nothing more than a paltry attempt to control their situation, some sort of damage control after the other night. 

They’ve both given too much of themselves now to return to the shallow, impersonal relationship they once had whether he likes it or not, and Rin will be damned if she lets him call the shots and force them back to the beginning.

But, if Astarion wants to play a game—well, she’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to win.

Rin looks down at her clothes with a pointed look and while they were perhaps nothing fancy—the oversized linen and worn leather may be simple but they were far from wretched. 

“Well. I’d hate to offend your delicate sensibilities.” Her smile is an inch too wide to be believable, betraying her irritation. “Shall I do a twirl for you as well? Or perhaps you would like a little trick?”

Rin holds up her hand, ready to ignis the damned tent if necessary to illustrate her point. Nothing that a few gold and a trip to dear Withers couldn’t fix if she accidentally managed to char him in the process.

“You spoil me darling, really. But I am simple man—” Rin stops him off with a look of admonishment, cutting off his sentence to start her own.

“A simple show for a simple man, then.” She hopes her emphasis on the words will speak loudly enough for him to understand the meaning of them as she mockingly bows towards him. 

“I take offense to that assessment, you know.” Astarion huffs with a frown, casting his head aside to instead take a sip of his errant goblet of wine, already forgotten beside him. 

His eyes are drawn quickly back to the center of his tent when he hears the soft rustle of fabric, returning to Rin just in time to catch a glimpse of her hands running down the front of her blouse. “It’s a perfectly reasonable one, if you ask me.”

Astarion frowns, opening his mouth to protest before quickly shutting it as her hands reach the waistband of her pants, fingers dipping just beneath the worn leather. Rin raises her brow, a teasing smile forming on her lips now that she has his attention.

Any irritation she feels is tempered by the thrill of Astarion’s gaze so set on her, his complete focus hers and hers alone as honest interest finally sparks to life in those red eyes of his.

With little flourish she begins to pull her leggings down her legs, peeling the pants away from her skin with less grace than she would prefer, but it would have to do. She kicks them to the side once she frees herself from them, uncaring where they land as she adjusts to the cool air of the night against newly bared skin that Astarion’s eyes rove.

“Do you think I should take this off next?” She thumbs at the hem of her shirt, examining the fraying stitching at the hem in desperate need of a mend. She’d have to ask Astarion to do it for her, damn it. “Since you find it so offensive and all that.”

“Be my guest, darling.” He gestures with a hand towards the garment, a corner of his mouth lifting. “I’ll even do you a favor and burn it for you for later.”

“How kind of you to go through all the trouble.” 

Rin’s smile is wry as she grabs the hem of her plain tunic and deftly lifts it over her head before dropping it. 

It drifts to the ground, fluttering down softly to fall in a graceless heap beside her bare legs, Astarion’s eyes darkening ever so slightly at the sight of her in nothing more than an unadorned corset and plain underwear, upping her confidence tenfold as she lets a corner of her mouth lift. 

“I suppose you’ll want to burn this too?” She runs her fingers teasingly across the top edge of the corset, her touch light as she brushes against the cotton and the plush of her breasts where they spill out above the garment.  

She hadn’t worn it with the intent of being admired, but when Astarion’s eyes follow every brush of her fingers against her breasts she’s suddenly quite grateful that she had chosen to wear it tonight instead of opting to go without as she normally would have, if only for it to act as a different kind of armor—one last layer to bolster her defenses in a battle she will surely lose. 

Astarion swallows, legs shifting slightly as his eyes caress over her curves. “We can negotiate the corset.”

“Your kindness truly knows no bounds.” Her fingers hover over the looped bow that sits at her breasts, tied in a hurry earlier after she had changed out of her armor.

The corset itself was nothing more than a plain ivory cotton—no expensive satin or fine boning—but when she pulls at the laces keeping the pretty little bow tied at the center of her cleavage, the tiniest bit of her full breasts exposed with the motion, the look in Astarion’s eyes could fool her into thinking it was the finest thing he had ever seen. 

Little by little, she pulls every cross of the laces, freeing more and more of herself with every delicate yank of her fingers as Astarion’s eyes obediently follow every inch of skin exposed until she reaches the last one, tugging it gently to loosen the final cross. 

It hangs loose around her form, the curve of her breasts just visible with the line of skin exposed down her chest. Rin wills her hands to steady under Astarion’s study as she brings them up to the straps on her shoulders, pushing each one off so she can shrug out of the garment. 

With one last push, the corset falls to the ground at her feet and she steps out of the circle of it before sending it aside with a soft kick.

Rin’s breasts pebble in the cool air, heat beginning to curl deep in her stomach under Astarion’s watchful gaze. She keeps her limbs loose, relaxed; her face at ease as she meets his eyes.

“You aren’t quite finished yet, my sweet.” Astarion’s voice is tight as he gestures with a brief nod towards her nearly naked form, gaze moving from her bare breasts and down lower to linger on her still-clothed center.

“You know, I think I’ve grown tired of being your entertainment,” She cocks her head to the side, unbound waves of darkened wheat—the color barely discernible in the darkness of his tent—cascading with the movement. “If you want them off so badly, do it yourself.” 

He raises a brow in question but obliges her nonetheless, moving from where he had been so indolently reclined against his bedroll as he watches her with keen eyes. 

With slow, careful steps Astarion makes his way towards where she stands before him and she is helpless but to admire the way his muscles shift on his lithe form, the grace with which he moves as he stalks closer to her that of a predator on the hunt for his prey.

And what was she, she supposes, if not his prey? It was why she had come here tonight, after all—to let him drink his fill of her blood with his lips at her neck, sucking down her life’s essence to his heart’s content.

She certainly feels like his prey, at least. How could she feel anything but when he moves around her in a slow circle, eyes brushing over her bared skin like a lover’s caress, knowing and intimate.

Astarion moves around her in another perfect circle before he finishes his perusal, stopping to stand behind her close enough to touch, his bare chest almost brushing against her spine. Familiar hands come to her waist as his head lowers to rest upon her shoulder, thumbs rubbing light circles into the skin. 

His lips press a featherlight kiss to her jaw that has her catching a breath. “Who said you were in charge here, my dear?”

His touch is electric against her skin, and Rin resists the urge to lean back into him, to press against the coolness of his chest and relish the feeling of his skin on hers. His mouth is terribly distracting where he adorns her with little kisses across the curve of her jaw and down the line of her neck, and she briefly wonders if he means to bite her just like this, held tight in the circle of his arms.

“Whoever said that you were?” Rin counters back with a glance out of the corner of her eye to where his cheek rests against her shoulder, ignoring the wetness that has begun to pool between her thighs. 

She has no intention of giving into his every want and demand, or at least not yet.

The hands bracketing her waist begin to move despite his protests, sliding down over her hips with frustrating slowness until he reaches the hem of her embarrassingly simple underwear. 

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Astarion sighs dramatically against the column of her throat. “Must you be so difficult?"

There’s an unexpected fondness in his voice, an affection that she can’t remember if she’s ever heard so openly from him before that has the air around them changing; shifting from something practiced and performative to familiar and lovely and absolutely perfect.

The sound of it has a shred of something warm blossoming in Rin’s chest—unknown but not entirely unwelcome, she decides. 

He plays at the edge of her panties, fingers toying with the thin cotton where it rests against her skin on either hip, his touch sending another wave of heat straight to her core as she bites back a sigh at the sensation. 

“You should be aware by now that listening has never been one of my strong suits.”

“Yes, well,” Astarion’s fingers hook into both sides of her underwear before beginning to pull, the garment sliding down over her hips and bottom as Astarion sinks down with it. “You seem to remember how to follow my instructions when it counts, dearest.”

He drops silently to his knees behind Rin, dragging her underwear down her legs as he goes, each slide of the fabric against her skin only serving to heighten the heat kindling inside her. She gingerly steps out of each leg, desperately wishing she could see what he must look like lowered behind her in such a manner—the sight of him on his knees surely one that she has seen in her dreams of him. 

But before she can make up her mind to steal a glance or even just turn, Astarion is gliding back up her body, hands glancing against her skin as he goes, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

“You know, I thought I came here for you to feed on.” It’s an effort to keep her voice steady as his arms wrap back around her waist, touch cool against her skin.

His head lowers back to her ear, lips brushing against the shell as a shiver of anticipation runs down her spine. “Oh, you did. But I don’t see why we can’t have a little fun as well. It’s been awhile, darling, and I’ve missed you.” 

A hand traces down her stomach in a teasing touch; long, sweeping lines of his fingertips back and forth across her skin brushing down until he reaches the apex of her thighs. 

Astarion moves at a glacial pace as his fingers dip lower and lower until they find their way to her center, swiping through her folds to spread her essence on the tips of them as Rin’s head falls back onto his shoulder, a sigh escaping her lips as he explores. 

“Miss my blood or miss me?” Rin’s lashes flutter shut as he runs his fingers up and down her, careful to avoid the two places she wants him to touch most as she flushes at the evidence of her arousal he finds.

“Can’t it be both?” His fingers finally find her entrance, tracing around the edge in slow circles as she sharply inhales. 

She’s not ready to admit how much she wants to believe him that he had missed her, had missed this—the easy intimacy they had been building together bit by bit. It’s a dizzying thought, one that has her heart skipping a beat that he surely can hear this close. 

“With you? Unlikely.”

“Why, you think so little of me, darling.” Astarion punctuates his words with the press of a finger slowly in; and were it any other time, the mock outrage coloring his voice would draw a laugh from her. 

This time, however, he draws a moan from her instead as he pushes deeper, seating his finger inside her before slowly withdrawing.

“Give me more to think about, then.” Rin sighs, lips opened as she tries to still her hips.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He smiles into her skin, lips brushing against the column of her throat as he pushes back in, sliding home to the knuckle.

Her mind ceases to a halt on whatever clever words she had been preparing when a hand draws up to her breast and cups it, Astarion’s touch a balm against her over-warm skin as he runs his thumb over the hardened peak.

Astarion’s finger moves only barely inside her, but it’s enough for Rin to feel it, friction building in her core with the simple motion. She should be embarrassed by how quickly he has worked her up, her ire so easily forgotten when wrapped in his arms and at the mercy of his skilled hands.

He’s lucky that she likes him, for she would never allow anyone else such lenience. Though, she would never allow anyone else the opportunity to get quite so close to her, either—a thought that borders on terrifying if she thinks too long about it.

A second finger joins the first, and she welcomes the slight stretch as he finally begins to pump them while he mouths at her neck, moving in a steady rhythm that has a fire burning deep in her core as she moans in relief.

Astarion’s pace is easy and unconcerned as he thrusts in and out lazily, slowly building her up higher and higher with every press forward. Her curls pillow against his pale skin as she sighs at the pleasure coursing through her, that welcome heat billowing deep inside her. His thumb finds her clit and rolls against it in soft circles as her lips open in a low moan, limbs tightening at the added touch. 

The hand cupping her breast runs back down to her waist to wrap around the circle of it, fingertips stroking her skin as he secures her closer to him and the outline of his cock presses hard against her ass.

Rin can feel the grin he hides in her neck as he breathes in the scent of her and his fingers curl, searching for the place to make her fall apart under his hands. He moves them just right, finding that one spot, and she cries out as her hips buck into his palm. 

“Ah, Astarion!” 

“Yes, darling?” He curls his fingers again and she practically melts in his hold, the arm he has wrapped around her waist squeezing tighter to keep her upright. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

He could finish her off so easily, the bastard; only a few more presses of his fingers and she would be done for, but Rin doubts that Astarion has plans to let her off so easily. 

Astarion has never outright denied her the release she craves, but he certainly likes to make her work for it.

“Only that I don’t want you to stop.” The words come out sounding more wanting than she would prefer, but she’s beyond the point of summoning up a care.

Astarion tsks, and as if on cue his fingers slow to a stop before pulling them from her body. Rin whines in protest as she lifts her head to glare at him, narrowed eyes meeting amused ones as he simply smirks back at her.

“Sorry, dear, I didn’t catch that.”

Astarion spins her around in his hold, her breasts pressing against his own bare chest as his hands run up and down her waist. A quick glance down and she can see the evidence of his own arousal, his cock pushing urgently against her stomach, still hidden by pants that she needs to rid him of preferably sooner rather than later.

“Liar. You heard me just fine.” Rin’s arms wrap around his shoulders as she leans in closer to him.

“It’s neither here nor there.” Astarion begins to walk her back, the two of them stepping together as he leads her towards his bedroll. “There’s no need to rush. Now, lay down.”

Rin arches her brow at his bossiness, but doesn’t argue as she lowers herself to the ground and spreads herself out on his bedroll. She frowns when she sits, the surface not nearly as soft as it should be, an unfamiliar hardness beneath her.

“Astarion, what in the hells is it that I am sitting on?” She shifts to peek underneath the blankets, spying some sort of wooden thing underneath her.

“Are you really going to ruin the mood to ask me about something so stupid? You are truly impossible.” Astarion looks down on her with a pointed scowl as he moves to kneel down before her, his lithe muscles shifting as he crawls over to her in smooth movements. 

“I’m not the one sleeping on a plank of wood every night. Have you no standards for good night’s trance? No wonder you’re so touchy all the time.”

He’s upon her in mere moments, an elegant hand finding the space just below her collar bone as he only answers her with a stern look. This thumb runs along the line of it, brushing against the skin as his eyes follow the motion. 

Rin looks down at the hand poised on her chest, so pale against the sun-warmed gold of her own, and brings her own up to run fingertips down the back of his. She swears she can see him shiver at the touch, a barely noticeable intake of his breath as her hand rests on top of his.

Astarion’s eyes cut up to hers, and with a raise of his brow, he pushes her backwards.

Rin lets him do it, lowering herself back with the help of his little push until her head hits his pillow, a rush of his scent surrounding her as she lays. His hand still rests on the skin of her chest, the weight of it like a scorching brand as she stares up at Astarion as he cages himself above her.

She doesn’t know what he sees when he looks down upon her, hair most likely curling in an unruly halo around her head and cheeks undoubtedly colored an unbecoming shade of pink, but his eyes run over what feels like every inch of her face before his hand begins to move, tracing a featherlight line down her skin. 

Her stomach jumps underneath the drag of his fingertips as his touch stops low, their eyes meeting together in a heated glance as Rin waits with bated breath.

Astarion’s head lowers towards her, and her heart beats a little faster at the thought of his lips meeting hers, the want she has been blatantly ignoring the past week begging to break free from its confines safe in the corner of her mind.

But instead, Astarion’s lips find her neck, placing a kiss on the two pinprick scars that decorate the column of it before running them across her skin—kissing over her collar, upon the peak of her breast, down her ribs one by one.

She gasps at the feeling as he drags his lips down her body, her skin flushed with desire.

He’s kissing the sensitive skin just below her stomach with teasing presses of his lips when she speaks, breathless and wanting. “Astarion, don’t you want to feed?”

Cool hands travel down the curve of her waist and over her hips before reaching her soft skin of her thighs, palms running over the tops of them as he settles himself in between her legs.

“Oh, I do.” Astarion makes to spread her thighs further, pushing them wide. “Don’t you worry, my dear, I’ll get my fill.”

Rin’s cheeks fill with heat as he moves his gaze to her bare center, running claret eyes over her as she sucks in a breath. With little ceremony, his head moves forward and his tongue glides along her center, lapping at her wetness. 

Her hips buck up into Astarion’s face as she reaches down to grab at his soft, downy curls as he circles the pearl at the top of her sex, the tip of his tongue light as he traces shapes along it.

He laps at her clit as she tries to quiet her mouth, holding back her moans and cries as best she can as he works her up ever higher. With a last circle, Astarion’s tongue ventures further down, abandoning her clit to instead run through her folds, groaning at the taste of her before exploring the wetness that has collected at her entrance. 

“Asta—” Rin gasps sharply as his tongue traces around the edge of her, so like he had with his finger earlier—ever teasing. He dips in her entrance, the tip of it whorling against her before pushing deeper. 

Her hands scrabble for purchase in his hair as he licks inside her, eating her out in earnest as her thighs tremble around his head. She swears that she can feel him chuckle against her as he tastes, tongue curling inside her as she grasps his soft curls harder between her fingers.

He thrusts his tongue deep and she keens, back arching off the bedroll as her hips roll against his mouth, chasing the heat coiling deep inside her with every press of his tongue. It’s a different sensation than that of his fingers, but no less welcome or wonderful as the feeling in her belly tightens more and more. 

She’s terribly close when his mouth leaves her, and she mourns the loss of his tongue for mere seconds before he fills her with fingers that press urgently, curling just right as his lips kiss their way to her thigh.

“Do it.” She spreads wider for him, and she can hear his satisfied hum against her skin before he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth in the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

The familiar ice of his bite hurts far too good, the frosty pain warring against the heat surging through her limbs as he drinks from her, blood running in scarlet rivulets down her thigh to stain the worn blanket beneath her.

Astarion’s messy as he drinks, her hips writhing in time with the fingers still artfully working inside her. Her back arches as she tries to quiet her cry, a fist curling into the threadbare blanket below her.

The metallic scent of iron tinges the air of the tent as he drinks and Rin can’t help the moan that falls from her open mouth at the feeling of his lips on her skin, sucking and licking and—gods, kissing. 

“There, please.” His fingers hit perfectly, over and over again, and her thighs tremble. “Please don’t stop.”

Astarion sucks hard at the bite as she begs, fingers keeping pace with the movement of her hips as he drinks down another surge of her blood. With only a few more presses of his fingers, curving just right to hit exactly where she needs him, Rin comes.

A hand unclenches from the blanket to cover her mouth as she muffles her moan into her palm, back arching as precious heat courses through her limbs and her hips writhe. 

Pleasure whites out her thoughts as Astarion fucks her through her orgasm with his fingers; lips and mouth still pullings sips of her blood from her thigh all the while.

She comes back to herself as his fingers slow and he peppers kisses to her leg, lapping up any stray drops as they fall from the wound. Astarion pulls his fingers from her gently, another hum of satisfaction breaking free as he brings them to his mouth and sucks, tongue licking her come clean from the digits.  

She’s still floating in a euphoric haze when Astarion finally rises from between her thighs, appetite sated and pale skin flushed with the slightest hint of pink from the blood that once belonged to her now flowing through his veins.

His mouth is glistening with her—her blood, her arousal, her scent. She’s entranced by the sight of it as Astarion licks his rouged lips, tongue swiping at a small drop of blood at the corner of his mouth that threatens to roll down his chin.

“Did I taste as good as you had hoped?” Rin’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath in the aftermath, the words no more than a whisper.

A corner of Astarion’s mouth lifts upward as he runs his eyes over her; from his mark on her thigh, over her sex, and up her flushed form beneath him until he meets her eyes. “Better.”

Rin’s breath hitches as he kisses his way back up her body with warmed lips, leaving a trail of red upon her skin with every touch of his lips, small blooms of her crimson blood like stains of watercolor.

He kisses up the valley between her breasts before turning his head, lips running over the plump curve of one before capturing her nipple, sucking at it before flicking his tongue against the bud. Rin’s back arches at the unexpected touch, more heat already kindling as he gives it a hard suck.

Astarion pops off her breast to kiss towards its twin, her hands burying back in his hair as he sucks at her other nipple, laving it with his tongue as a whine breaks free from her lips before she urges him higher, fingertips running through his curls. 

He obliges, placing one last kiss upon the tip of her breast before moving to bury his head in her neck, licking a line up the column of her throat, the very tip of his tongue tracing a thrumming vein.

Rin wraps her arms around his shoulders, hands running over the corded muscle as he slots himself between her legs, his still-clothed erection brushing against the too-sensitive skin of her thighs.

It simply wouldn’t do, she decides. 

“Let me touch you. Please,” she runs her hands down his chest to dance over his skin until she reaches the waistband of his pants, his cock painfully hard as it strains against the fabric. “I want to touch you, Astarion.”

She’s taking a chance by asking, but it’s one she’s willing to try her luck for.

Despite how many times she’s enjoyed the feeling of him inside her or how well he’s come to learn her body, he’s never quite allowed her the same opportunity to touch or taste him.

She knows enough of his past—he’s told her plenty of the many different people he had taken for Cazador against his will and under duress, his body used without the ability and choice to say no.  

“I want to make you feel good too, Astarion.” Rin peers up into his eyes, fingers no longer trailing along him as she pauses, waiting patiently for a real answer. “Do you trust me?”

His gaze is intense as it meets her own, the heated desire in his eyes tempering for a moment to give way to a tentative vulnerability that crosses over them as he considers her words. 

“I-” Astarion speaks softer than she had expected as he breaks off, gaze intent on hers as the weight of the implication that he has a choice—one that is his and his only to make—bears down on him. “—I do.”

“Only if you want me to. You have to promise me that you want it.” She urges, hands flattening on his abdomen as excitement stirs in her chest.

“Fine. I promise that I want it.” Astarion snaps, but his words lack any real bite as a corner of his lips quirk up into a crooked smile. “Show me what you’ve got, then, if you’re so eager.”

Rin moves slow as her hand slides back down his pants and over the curve of his hardened length, caressing him over the fabric as she feels him, cupping his length softly before flitting back up to join the other still at the waist of his pants.

Astarion’s breath catches at her touch before on his own hands comes down to help as she pushes the barrier down, freeing his length from the confines of his clothes. In a smooth motion, his pants and underwear are down his legs and off, baring his erection.

Precome shines at the tip of his cock as she runs her fingers down him in a barely there caress from top to bottom, his length twitching with the motion as Astarion draws in a harsh breath.

Her eyes stay on his as she grazes the soft skin again, watching for any sign she should stop as she runs her fingers along a prominent vein that runs along the side of him. 

He’s velvet soft under her palm as she wraps her fingers around his shaft, giving him an experimental pump of her hand, touch gentle as she revels in the feel of him.

“Is this alright?” Rin looks up at him from under lowered lashes.

Her hand glides up, brushing over the head of him as she collects the precome leaking from his slit, running her fingers over it before caressing down to the base once more. 

“By all means, please continue.” Rin knows he means for the words to be casual and unaffected, but there’s already a telling breathiness to Astarion’s words that has her smirking.

The weight of him in her hand is nothing short of perfect as she gently wraps her fist around him, stroking him. Astarion moans and it’s the easily one of the most beautiful things Rin’s ever heard, the sound of it sending a spike of heat to her core.

She brings her other hand to her mouth, running her tongue over her palm before it joins the other around his cock and the added bit of glide has Astarion gasping as his hips jump. 

His head falls heavy onto her shoulder as she works him, careful pumps of his length bringing him closer to the edge far faster than she ever thought possible with only her touch. 

His cock weeps as Rin glides her fingers over the crown of him again, collecting more of the precome that glistens at the tip. Her hands move together, one carefully massaging the head of his cock while the other strokes at the base, the breathy moans leaving Astarion’s lips only serving to spur her on further as she works him closer to the edge. 

“Does this feel good, Astarion?”

“Gods, yes.” He shudders in response, lips open against her skin as he presses a messy kiss into her shoulder.

Her palms move faster, intent on his undoing, his pleasure at her hands nothing short of exhilarating. 

Gods, she would let him come wherever he wanted. Onto her stomach, across her breasts, down her throat—the thought is enough to send another spark of electricity to her empty core.

“Ah, darling,” Astarion’s voice is tight as he buries his face deeper into her neck, hips bucking into her hand as she works him from the crown of his cock to the base, his breathing getting harder with every stroke. “Much more and you’ll spoil the main event.”

“I’ll stop, if that’s what you want.” Rin slows her motions as he catches his breath against the column of her throat, so close to his own completion she can practically feel it in the way his body shakes above her own, muscles quivering with the want of release. “But would it be so awful if you were to come like this? On my hands, all over my skin?”

Astarion raises his head from her neck, pupils blown wide and hair thoroughly disheveled as he pants. “Decidedly not, but I think I want to fill that sweet cunt of yours tonight instead.”

“If you say so.” She brings one of the hands that had been stroking him to her mouth, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips to lap at a shining string of precome still sticking to her skin, savoring the flavor of him for the very first time.

Astarion swallows hard, eyes fixated on the pink of her tongue as she wraps her mouth around the tip, sucking lightly. She smiles sweetly around it, lips pink and plush, as she sends him a wink.

With a soft pop, she pulls her finger out of her mouth before moving to twine her arms around his neck, running through the soft curls at his nape. “I wouldn’t mind getting to taste more of you, either, if you’d let me.”

“Salacious girl. Whatever am I supposed to do with you?” That same fondness from earlier sneaks back into his words as she gazes up at him with as much innocence as she can muster.

“Hmm,” Rin muses, pretending to think through her answer as her fingers toy with his hair. “Whatever you want, I suppose.” 

“Whatever I want?” Astarion’s brows raise in mock surprise. “You might come to regret those words, darling.”

“I find that sometimes I don’t mind being at your mercy.”

“Your self-preservation instincts need some reevaluating, my dear.”

“Is that what you think?” She laughs as her fingertips abandon his wild curls to dance absentmindedly across the lines of his shoulders.

“What I think is that these wandering hands of yours are trouble.” Astarion leans down to whisper into her ear, a smirk decorating his lips as they brush against the point of them. “It’s a pity I don’t have any pretty ribbon at my disposal to tie them up with.”

Nimble fingers move to find and circle her wrists with surprising delicacy as he removes them from around his neck to instead guide her arms up to rest around her head. 

Desire pools deep in her belly at the mere mention and she doesn’t even try to fight against Astarion’s hold, not when there’s nothing she wants more than to be at the mercy of his hands. 

“So, you’ll just have to be a good girl and keep these up here for me.” His hands encircle her wrists so very easily as he applies the slightest bit of pressure on them to illustrate his point. “Can you do that? I know you have a very hard time following directions.” 

“I’ll try my hardest, but I make no promises.”

His hands slide down from her own where he left them resting above her head as he rises back to his knees, running over her breasts to anchor at her waist before he takes in the sight of her—warm skin and eyes bright and utterly alive. 

He fits perfectly between her thighs as he moves his hips to slide his length through her folds, her slick coating him with every pass.

“No touching,” Astarion tuts. “Don’t forget.”

“Like I said, no promises. But I’ll give it a fair shot.” Rin grinds her hips against his erection, still gliding up and down her slit.

Astarion’s only response is a raise of his brow as he positions himself at her entrance, the head of his cock barely pressing against her as he smirks, moving his hips away every time she tries to move hers forward.

Teasing. Always, always teasing.

Rin rolls her hips against his own as Astarion finally pushes forward, hilting himself inside her warmth in a smooth thrust, twin moans escaping from their lips at the feeling as he fills her completely.

His hands caress down to her thighs where they open for him, thumbs running up and down soft skin marred only by the red of his own bite, the marks smeared with still drying blood.

Astarion’s hips finally move, pulling away from hers only to push forward again until he bottoms out, burying himself deep. Rin relishes the feel of him moving inside her with a soft moan as she throws her head back against his pillow, back arching as he settles his hands on her hips to pull her deeper onto his cock.

His thumbs grip into her skin as he thrusts into her, hips meeting her own with long, deep strokes that have her trying and failing to hold back the little noises of pleasure that loose from her lips.

She yearns to move her hands from where they still rest above her head—yearns to drag her fingers across his skin or wrap her arms around his neck to draw him closer to her—but she resists the temptation, settling on moving her hips instead.

Rin grinds against his cock buried deep inside her as she moves her hips to match his own, thrust for thrust, the slide of him achingly flawless as they move together.  

“Gods, you’re absolutely perfect.” The words slip out of Astarion’s lips, murmured low on a hard thrust. She tightens around him as the praise washes over her, lips opened on a barely restrained whimper as her lashes lower.

He’s more than beautiful in the darkness as he throws his head back on a moan, the drag of his cock smooth as he hits deep and she craves more—more closeness, more of his touch, more of his lips. 

“Kiss me,” she gasps and instantly regrets the words and the desperation of them as her hands still lay obediently above her head, her back arching with every thrust.

Astarion’s hips stutter, losing their rhythm as he looks down at her, fixating on the petal pink of her lips, and Rin’s heart practically stops at what she sees when he looks at her.

A hand traces its way up from her hip to grab hold of her chin, touch firm as Astarion’s eyes move away from her lips to stare into her own, searching for something in the verdant depths of them. His gaze is alight with a precious heat that threatens to burn every inch of her—the fire she’s secretly dreamed of seeing there in his eyes when he looks at her.

His lips crash into hers with no words or preamble, meeting her half way as she surges her head up and their lips press together. Her arms lift, leaving their resting place above her head to wrap around his neck as Astarion’s tongue runs against the seam of her lips in askance, her own parting eagerly for him.

She can taste the remnants of herself on his lips, both the richness of her cunt and the metallic tang of her blood; and it’s heady, it’s divine as his lips chase after her own as they kiss and kiss and kiss, his hips still joined with hers all the while.

The hand that had been poised on her chin strokes upward, running over the plane of her cheek in a barely there touch that has her heart stuttering as their lips move.

Gods, she’d been wishing for the feeling of his lips on hers, and if the only way she can get it is when he fucks her, then so be it. 

It’s not the only kind of kiss she wants from him but it’s the kiss she will take, desperate despite her every wish otherwise.

She’s gasping when Astarion finally breaks the kiss, taking in precious breaths of air as his lips lift only just away from hers. His hips slow and Rin looks questioningly up at Astarion, arms still twined tightly around his neck.

A small burst of panic bubbles up in her chest as she feels him slide out her, hips pulling away from hers to leave her empty; and worry that she had perhaps done something wrong or said something she shouldn’t have fills her mind. 

“Astarion? Is everything alright? Did I—” she cuts herself off as the hand at her cheek brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear while its twin travels up her thigh to curve around her waist, urging her body upwards with a gentle pull.

“Let’s try something a little different, hm? Now, up.”

His hold is tight—secure—as they both shift to sitting, Astarion helping her along the way until she is upright in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs as she hovers.

“Now, tell me, sweet thing. Have you ever been fucked like this before?” His eyes pierce into her own as a hand curls around the back of her head, fingers tangling in her curls.

“No.” Rin shakes her head from side to side, biting her lip as his length finds her entrance once more, pushing with the barest hint of pressure against her.

“Good.” 

With a swift thrust, Astarion sheathes himself inside of her as his lips capture hers, swallowing her answering moan as Rin arches against his chest. The hand wrapped around her waist travels down, fingertips squeezing into the flesh of her ass to help guide her hips up and down his cock.

They’re on equal footing like this, noses brushing against each other’s as their bodies work, Rin’s hips meeting Astarion’s own in a smooth cadence. The closeness—the intimacy of it—is intoxicating as their lips meet again and again, arms wrapped around each other as their fingertips dig into each other’s skin.

It’s not as fast or as hard as she’s used to, but somehow it’s better—the lack of quick thrusts is made up for instead by hard rolls of their hips, Astarion reaching the deepest part of her core as they hold each other close, not an bit of space between them.

His length brushes against what feels like every inch of her walls, sending sparks through her body as the heat coiling in her stomach rises higher with every move they make.

Rin is only mildly aware of the marks he left on her thigh breaking open once more, tiny drops of her blood leaving ruby red smears against both her and Astarion’s flesh as her hands map the planes of his face and their lips press.

Any other time, she would be blushing at the noise of their bodies moving together, the wet glide of his length driving in and out of her and the sound of skin on skin audible in the confines of Astarion’s tent; but instead she’s unabashed as she moves up and down his cock and he thrusts up to meet her, moans falling freely from both of their mouths as their kiss breaks.

She’s getting closer and she can tell he is too, the intensity of his thrusts only getting harder and deeper as every roll of his hips has his length brushing against her sweet spot as she loses her rhythm against him as her body begins to quake.

“Eyes on me.” Astarion’s forehead presses into hers as her lashes flutter, the height of her pleasure curling around her, ephemeral and just out of reach.

The heat burning inside her reaches a crescendo, his name whispered from her lips on a broken gasp as her hold on him tightens, fingertips digging into his skin.

She’s tremulous as she tightens around him and he kisses her moans from her, quieting the sound of them as her hands grasp for purchase around his shoulders and he pumps his cock, hitting the very same spot that never fails to have her falling apart in his arms. 

Rin sees stars behind her eyes as she tumbles over the edge of the crest, constricting hard on him as she comes on a near silent cry. Her hips writhe as Astarion holds her steady despite the ragged moan that falls from his lips as he watches her fall apart with half-lidded eyes.

She’s clinging to him as she rides out the rest of her orgasm on the hardened length still thrusting inside her, Astarion working her through the waves of pleasure that suffuse through her limbs.

A dreamy, hazy euphoria descends over her like a fog as she finally comes back to herself, her first thought to press another kiss to the pair of lips that still brush against hers. 

Rin takes a lungful of air on a deep breath, beginning to move her hips against his once more despite the contented exhaustion blanketing her as she speaks with a soft, teasing lilt. “I thought you were going to come in my sweet cunt, Astarion.”

“Still the plan, darling.” Astarion’s lost in his own pleasure as he speaks, eyes fixated on her own as his hips snap hard into hers.

The hand on her ass tightens, fingertips near bruising as Astarion’s thrusts begin lose their rhythm in the wake her orgasm, the feeling of her cunt spasming around his length as she had come only serving to drive him closer to his own completion.

Her fingertips run down his cheek as he looks at her, his control breaking on every push of his hips that she meets readily.

“Then do it,” She whispers. “Please come for me, Astarion.” 

Rin presses her mouth to his in a hard kiss, gasping as he changes the angle of his thrusts to hit the very end of her cunt.

At her words, Astarion follows her over the edge, moaning his ecstasy into her lips as he comes. His hips rut frantically against hers, spilling himself inside her with unrestrained thrusts. 

Rin grasps him tighter as his orgasm rushes through him, taking each and every sound that falls from him as he works through the waves of pleasure coursing through his limbs. 

Finally, Astarion’s hips slow to a halt as their chests heave, still locked in their embrace, the haze of the aftermath floating around them. His lips press against hers one last time before he ducks his head to fit against her neck, breathing in the scent of her.  

Rin’s not sure how long they stay like that, both catching their breath as her arms hang loose around him, Astarion’s face still buried in her neck as his fingers grip around waist. 

Eventually, it’s Astarion who moves first, gently pulling his softened cock from her as he lifts his head and leans back towards his bedroll, taking her down with him. 

They lay next to each other on the ruined blanket, a light sheen of sweat sticking to their skin.

“That was—” Astarion starts, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to push it out of his face.

Rin finishes the sentence for him, her heart still beating in a staccato rhythm. “Amazing? Fantastic? The best sex you’ve ever had?”

“Well, you think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?” Astarion turns his head to face her, brow raised.

Rin leans in, bumping their foreheads together in a light touch before whispering her reply on a smile. “That wasn’t a no.”

Astarion rolls her eyes and she laughs, and she swears she can see the slightest hint of pink coloring his cheeks, no doubt from the help of her blood still running through him.

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head, the muscles in his back shifting and Rin lets out an appreciative hum at the sight. 

“Oh, and Astarion.” Rin smiles as she rolls her shoulders, settling further into the blanket. “If you burn my shirt, I will be forced to take action. Possibly with a knife. Just so we’re clear.”

His head whips back to glance at her, a wicked look in his eye. “Flirting again already? Give me a moment to recover, dearest.” 

Astarion’s eyes skate down her naked form, still lying in a boneless heap upon his bedroll. 

“Gods, look at you. You’re an absolute mess.” She can feel the blood drying on her thighs and on the spots where he had left bloodied kisses up her body, his come threatening to spill out of her with even the slightest movement. “Get ahold of yourself, darling.”

“An absolute mess that you made.” Rin peeks down to look at herself, skin still flushed and dotted with red marks in the vague shape of his lips.

“I’d gladly make it again, too.” Astarion turns back to the side, reaching for a spare decanter of presumably water and grabbing a piece of soft cloth.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.” 

She takes in the bloodied blanket beneath her as she hazards a stretch, reaching her arms above her head as her feet point, back arching as she comes up to her elbows. 

“Has anyone ever told you that your bedroll is absolutely awful? How you manage to sleep on something so hard is beyond my ability to imagine. We should steal you a new one.”

Even with the awful plank beneath her, it would be so easy to stay on a night like tonight. Too easy to imagine settling into his side, the now familiar contours of his body beside her own as they rested together, limbs tangling. She’s never slept in anyone’s arms before that she can remember, and she wonders how it must feel to spend hours simply wrapped in Astarion’s embrace and then to wake up next to him at first light.

Please ask me to stay. 

The words come from a deep, dark part of her mind unbidden; but the wanting they bring with them threatens to ruin her as her heart beats harder.

“Or you could always come share mine, I guess. I promise I’ll keep you nice and warm.” It’s a risk speaking those kind of words, Rin crossing a line they’ve never dared to before.

Astarion’s body tenses slightly, the line of his shoulders stiffening.

He dips the mouth of the decanter over onto a spare cloth to wet it before turning back to her, expression strangely blank. The sight of it puts her ill at ease, as if the warm intimacy they had shared had been snuffed out like a candle’s flame. 

Astarion runs the cloth over her form, erasing any evidence of him from her skin. His spend, the blood on her thighs, the messy kisses up her chest—all of it gone with a simple brush of water on cloth.

She nods her thanks, her heart sinking as regret burns in her throat. 

“Well, it’s been lovely. You’re always such a treat.” Astarion summons a veil across his eyes, an empty smirk on his lips as he sets the cloth to the side. “You should go get some sleep, darling. Who knows who else you’ll need to convince to kill themselves tomorrow.”

It’s like a slap to the cheek—cold water to wake her from the warm embrace of a dream. It wasn’t the first time he had said such words to her, but this is the first time she realizes that she hates them with every fibre of her being.

“Oh.” She bites her lip, hoping she hides her disappointment well enough; but from the way Astarion averts his gaze to focus on an invisible point on other side of the tent, she doesn’t need to worry much. “I suppose you do need your beauty sleep, don’t you? Far be it from me to get in the way.”

Rin doesn’t want to hear what he has to say, she decides, as she pulls herself up to sitting beside him. She’s not certain she can look at him either, not at the cool and aloof expression that seems to have taken residence across his features. 

He hadn’t looked like that when he kissed her. 

No, he had looked the exact opposite, his expression mirroring the longing she knows had been etched onto her own as their lips had met.

Without a word, Rin stands and walks over the blankets heaped along the floor to where her clothes lay discarded in a heap, her footsteps soft against the ground. 

Silently, she redresses, not bothering with the corset as she leaves it unlaced at her feet and pulls the rest of her clothes back on with perfunctory ease. Her tunic is partially over her head when she dares a look back at Astarion, the collar floating down to rest against her skin as she turns her head.

His face is imperceptible as he watches her, sitting still as stone. She forces a small smile, hoping that the dejection she feels doesn’t come across as she speaks to him one last time for the evening.

“Sleep well, Astarion.”

Astarion nods his head, a clear dismissal if she’s ever seen one. “Until the morning, darling.”

Until the morning, indeed. 

Until the morning, where they’ll pretend everything is fine and nothing has changed as they play around each other in some sort of tiring, endless game.

And maybe Astarion can. Maybe, for him, nothing ever did change.

Rin doesn’t know quite what it is that they are building towards; but between the little bits of their lives shared with one another, the tiny little secrets that bare ragged pieces of their souls, the long evenings spent by the side of the fire laughing and talking and playing games, between the kisses and caresses and the meeting of their eyes—it feels like something.

Something more than simply being bedmates.

With a single, deep breath she reaches down to grab her corset, collecting it in hand as she turns and walks out the front flap of his tent without another look back, unable to promise she can keep her expression even in the face of his seemingly cold indifference. 

Rin keeps her eyes ahead as she walks by the campfire, Gale politely looking the other way, not commenting on how she must look or what he must have heard—her hair is undoubtedly a mess, corset rumpled in hand, lips still too swollen to be confused with being anything other than readily kissed.

She withholds the sigh that threatens to break free as she makes her way towards her tent, and she’s grateful that at least there is no one else by the fire to witness the utterly pathetic sight of her as she keeps her eyes straight forward. 

“I hope you know what you are doing.” Gale’s voice stops her before she can step into her tent, and she freezes, shifting the corset in hand in hopes of hiding it better, though she knows it’s useless. “I say this with the utmost respect, you understand. As your friend.”

Rin can hear the slightest bit of judgment in the words despite the kindness of them but she shakes it off. She probably deserves his judgment, in the end.

She pastes a weak smile on her face, squeezing the corset tighter in her hand as she turns to look at the wizard where he sits by the fire, a familiar spell book in hand. 

“It’s all good Gale, nothing to worry about. I promise.”

“I trust your judgement, then. Sleep well, my friend.” Gale gives her a polite nod, but the look on his face says that he’s thoroughly unconvinced by her words.

Such aspiring confidence her companions have in her, it seems.

Rin certainly doesn’t blame him for it.

She can barely convince herself of the fact, after all.

With one last sigh she walks through the flap of her tent, letting it flutter shut behind her as she steps inside the familiar surroundings she now calls home.

It smells like it always does, jasmine and honey hanging in the air, and not a one of her possessions is out of place—however few of them she has. 

But as she drops the corset on the ground, she can’t help but feel that something is missing.

Hands come up to cover her eyes as she presses the heel of her palms into them, hoping to rid her mind of such thoughts, however there’s no comfort to be found as shapes swirl on the back of her eyelids.

If she had any sense at all, she would quit while she was still ahead and could leave somewhat unscathed from whatever this thing growing between them is.

But she knows herself better than that.

She knows that, instead of stopping this and sparing herself the almost inevitable promise of pain that their little affair will bring, she will pull herself back together just in time to face the darkness of the morning and pretend that everything is just fine—all the while knowing deep down that she will keep making the same mistake over and over again and relish it every single time.

snippet sunday wip wednesday wip whenever ✨

thank you to everyone who has tagged me to post over the past week! I had my head down so I could finish chapter 8 of to eden and so I missed my chance to post.

but I am here now, with a little treat for kinktober 🎃 I'm not sure if there's any official prompt list for kinktober or not, but either way. I'm sure you all can guess the prompts for this one 😈 please enjoy

no pressure tags @khywren @elinorbard @xxnashiraxx @inkymoonbunny @ladyduellist @preciouslittlebhaalbae @justabiteofspite

With Stars to Fill My Dream (9) - Darkness Helps Us All to Shine

Hi everyone!! Chapter 9 is here! ❤❤

Please forgive me for the lack of Karlach screenshots, I thought I'd have gotten them by now but life has been a little crazy so I haven't been able to fix up my game and mods since Patch 7 released. 💗

Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,352

Opening under the cut!

Ofelia stares into the flames as she warms her hands, listening to her companions getting ready and packing up for the day before they start to filter out.

She hadn’t slept a wink. She’d been torturing herself over and over with the thought that if she did, she’d find them all standing around her, demanding she leave when she woke up. The idea of going out alone in this world had been enough to wire her nerves and keep her alert, even when the rest of the clearing was as silent as death.

Ofelia pokes at the logs in the fire, watching Wyll cross the camp towards her. She regards him warily, concerned at his intentional approach.

“Morning,” He smiles, sitting beside her. He gives her some room, tension hovering in the air between them. He doesn’t look angry, or distrustful. With his face so open, she almost feels more terrified. Many meetings with case workers had prepared her for the sickly sweet words and body language that preceded her removal from a foster home. Usually through deliberate fault of her own, so she can’t really complain.

“Hi.” She mutters, setting the stick she’d been holding down on a stone to dangle over the flames. Her voice is defensive, measured. It’s been a while since she’s had to use this inflection.

The chill still clings to her and she shrugs the spare blanket up over her shoulders, watching Wyll tap his knee before snapping and searching his pockets. He pulls a small brown package out and unwraps the cloth, revealing a wedge of cheese within. He motions to it, indicating that he’d like to share, and she nods, watching him pull his knife out to cut a piece off and hold it out to her. She takes it carefully, not one to pass on cheese, even if it’s a bit of a placating gift before he brings the hammer down. Once she places the pad of it on her tongue, she hums in approval- it reminds her of sharp cheddar and with a small sting to her eyes she nibbles on the rest.

With Stars to Fill My Dream (9) - Darkness Helps Us All to Shine

Hi everyone!! Chapter 9 is here! ❤❤

Please forgive me for the lack of Karlach screenshots, I thought I'd have gotten them by now but life has been a little crazy so I haven't been able to fix up my game and mods since Patch 7 released. 💗

Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,352

Opening under the cut!

Ofelia stares into the flames as she warms her hands, listening to her companions getting ready and packing up for the day before they start to filter out.

She hadn’t slept a wink. She’d been torturing herself over and over with the thought that if she did, she’d find them all standing around her, demanding she leave when she woke up. The idea of going out alone in this world had been enough to wire her nerves and keep her alert, even when the rest of the clearing was as silent as death.

Ofelia pokes at the logs in the fire, watching Wyll cross the camp towards her. She regards him warily, concerned at his intentional approach.

“Morning,” He smiles, sitting beside her. He gives her some room, tension hovering in the air between them. He doesn’t look angry, or distrustful. With his face so open, she almost feels more terrified. Many meetings with case workers had prepared her for the sickly sweet words and body language that preceded her removal from a foster home. Usually through deliberate fault of her own, so she can’t really complain.

“Hi.” She mutters, setting the stick she’d been holding down on a stone to dangle over the flames. Her voice is defensive, measured. It’s been a while since she’s had to use this inflection.

The chill still clings to her and she shrugs the spare blanket up over her shoulders, watching Wyll tap his knee before snapping and searching his pockets. He pulls a small brown package out and unwraps the cloth, revealing a wedge of cheese within. He motions to it, indicating that he’d like to share, and she nods, watching him pull his knife out to cut a piece off and hold it out to her. She takes it carefully, not one to pass on cheese, even if it’s a bit of a placating gift before he brings the hammer down. Once she places the pad of it on her tongue, she hums in approval- it reminds her of sharp cheddar and with a small sting to her eyes she nibbles on the rest.