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carooosa · 3 months

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Craving Temptation Part 1: First Bite

Word count: 2.8k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion x AFAB!Tav/Reader Warnings: 18+, vampire bite, masturbation AO3 link: First Bite

Summary: Astarion awakes from a nightmare and needs to test out a theory of his. He never expected that you would wake up, nor did he expect the effect you would have on him.

You weren’t supposed to wake up, especially not right before he sunk his teeth into you. What were you going to do, now that you saw him for who he was: a slave, in more ways than one. Forever hungry for the blood of living creatures, always under the command of his wretched master. Perhaps he could quickly disappear into the night, never to be seen again. Or, better yet, he could manipulate you into thinking that you’ve simply imagined everything.

It would be easy, surely, to gaslight you. You were always quick to see the best in everyone, and he despised it. It was honestly quite confusing; you kept going on and on about needing to get rid of the tadpoles as soon as possible, yet you never turned down the opportunity to help. Perhaps that’s why he decided that you would be the perfect thinking creature to drink from. You were bound to find out that he chose you as his prey sooner or later. If not by waking up now, in the morning you’d know without a doubt that something was wrong. You looked naive on the surface, but you were cunning. You gave everyone the benefit of the doubt but refused to be taken advantage of.

Maybe that was the real reason he chose you. You were strong. And if he needed anything right now, it was strength. Cazador was still out there, and if his nightmare had any bearing of truth to it, he was angry. He hated to admit it, but he needed protection, and you were his best bet. He thought for a second about telling you who Cazador really was, the years of torment and abuse the vile monster had inflicted on him, but he quickly pushed it away. No, he thought to himself, I should keep that information hidden until I need to use it.

A part of him longed to tell you. To confide in you. You would reassure and comfort him, but it wouldn’t be enough to answer the burning question in his mind. Did Cazador still have a hold on him, or was he free to make his own choices? The only way to know was to break one of the horrid rules placed on your kind.

Thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

He looked down at you, at the fear in your eyes. You finally saw him as the monster he was. But there was something else. Was that curiosity? Concern? What were you thinking when you saw his bared fangs?

His question would stay unanswered as all you managed to ask was, “What’s going on?”

An ever so simple question that should be easy to answer, yet he was unsure what to say. A pang of guilt cuts through him.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” He scolds himself at how desperate he sounds, how utterly pathetic. But in that split second that you’ve registered his plea, your features soften. This was his way in. He would use your need to help others against you.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just needed-” reassurance “-well, blood.” He tried to search your face for a clue as to what your next step was.

“So you’re a vampire?” You asked, taking a step towards him. He was slightly annoyed with that question, as it was quite obvious at this point. And why were you taking a step towards him? You should be terrified at this revelation, yet you seem to only be concerned for his wellbeing. This caught him off guard and he ended up taking a step backwards in turn.

“I only feed on animals: boars, deer, kobolds-“ rats “-whatever I can get.” His voice falters at the end of the sentence and he grimaces. His performance of the victim was becoming a bit too real.

You take a step towards him yet again, and this time he feels the squirm of the tadpole behind his eye. He’s unable to stop you from peering into his mind as it never crossed his thoughts that you would use the tadpole willingly. By the time he’s pushed you out of his mind, he’s sure you’ve seen some of the torment he was forced to endure. He can almost taste the putrid rat blood as the memory lingers in his head.

He’s angry that you’d peer into his mind, that you would see him as something so weak and helpless. He waits for you to mention the vision but you never do.

Instead, you look up at him with your gentle gaze, and ask, almost sounding like you’re hurt, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hells below, what was wrong with you? You should be angry. You could even kill him and he would understand. But no. You had to always see the good in people. And he wasn’t going to be any different.

“I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me,” he says while taking a slow step towards you. He needed to make sure that he was in control of this situation.

“I do. Of course, I’m upset, but I understand why you kept this from me. Is there anything I could do to help?”

You had fallen right into his trap. Your unending pursuit of heroism would get you killed one day, but Astarion didn’t mind if it meant he got to reap some of the benefits.

“Why, yes, darling, I could use some blood.” He sees the uncertainty in your eyes and reassures you, unwilling to let go of this opportunity. “I only need a taste, I swear.”

He watches as you fidget where you stand, your eyes flicking between his eyes and fangs. “Just a taste — Nothing more.”

He smiles, the tips of his fangs glinting from the moonlight. “Of course. Not one drop more,” he says while closing the distance between the two of you. As he gets closer, panic starts to set in. He’s never actually drunk from a person before. “Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable?” He’s put the mask that he’s crafted over the past 200 years back on. If you’re going to allow him to drink from you, he may as well play into the sexy vampire trope.

He watches as you lay down on your bedroll, your body tense with nerves. He slowly lowers himself to be squatting next to you. He can hear your heart beating loudly, and his mouth waters at the sound. He gently brushes your hair away from your neck and runs a finger from your jaw to the base of your neck, causing your breath to catch.

With his mouth wide open, he places his fangs tentatively on your neck, licking the skin a couple of times before he sinks his teeth in.

He’s immediately overcome by the taste of your blood. It’s sickeningly sweet, just like you, but it’s wonderful. It’s unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. How he yearns to devour you, to taste you over and over again.

You’re fidgeting underneath him, the whimpers escaping from your mouth hypnotizing him. He imagines you making those whimpers from his fingers inside you, making you a mess. You were always put together, and oh, how Astarion would love to ruin you. He feels your blood travel from his throat, through his body, and eventually, to his cock. He’s taken aback by the feeling as he hasn’t gotten aroused by his own free will since turning into a vampire.

Before he can ponder on it any longer, one of your hands reaches up and grips onto his shirt. He instinctively moves to straddle you, his cock nestled up against the space between your legs. The taste of your blood has started to change, shifting into something intoxicating. His mind spins as he drinks your life essence, and he unknowingly starts to grind against you.

He lowers himself further into you, his chest brushing up against yours. He realizes that you’re only wearing a thin shirt by the hardness of your nipples. The feeling causes him to moan, some blood spilling down his chin.

Your hand moves to be pulling on his hair. He imagines you tugging his hair as he eats you out. He wonders how you would taste; if it would be anything similar to your blood or entirely different.

He holds your head to consume you even deeper, and the new position causes more blood to flow into his mouth. He starts to grind faster, feeling the dampness of your arousal through his trousers and smelling it as well. His cock aches from the confinement of his pants. He imagines how warm you would feel around him, how he would make you scream and go insane from his touch. If you moaned like this from just a bite, how many different sounds would you make for him?

He yearns to explore your body, to taste every inch of you. His thrusts have begun to get uneven, and he realizes just how close he is. He forces himself to stop grinding against you and tries to will himself to think of anything other than your perfect body in shambles beneath him, but it’s all in vain.

“Astarion-“ you say with a gasp. Your voice is the catalyst that sends him over the edge, careening into a pleasure he hasn’t felt in quite a while. He thrusts himself into you as he comes on himself, blood spilling from his mouth and onto your bedroll.

He quickly pulls away from your neck, hoping that by some miracle you hadn’t noticed his undoing.

You pant breathlessly on the ground, your skin paler than before. Blood trickles from the wound on your neck. Astarion resists the urge to drink your blood, lest he somehow lose more control of himself.

“That… was more… than a taste…” you say in between breaths.

He’s still not come down from the euphoria of your blood and his release when he answers. “Ah, yes, I was just — swept up in the moment.” You slowly sit up on your bedroll and look expectantly at him. “And it worked. I feel good. Strong-” Horny. “-Happy,” he finishes with a sigh.

You start to look through your backpack to find a rag to wipe at your neck. As you pull one out, something comes over Astarion and he quickly snatches it away before kneeling in front of you.

“Let me,” he says, and he carefully swipes away at your wound. It’s bigger than he meant it to be.

You both sit in silence as he cleans up your neck. He can feel your eyes piercing into him, but he refuses to look back at you. He’s not sure what exactly just happened, and he’s not going to let you get any hint of what he did to himself. Just as he’s finishing up, you gently grab his wrist and force him to look directly at you.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His cock twitches from your look and praise. He abruptly stands up and comes up with an excuse to leave. He clears his throat before saying, “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need something more filling.” He can see some sort of sadness in your eyes as he says this. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it,” he finishes while turning on his heel.

His manhood aches and he yearns to run off somewhere to relieve himself. Doing so would raise concern from you, so instead, he slowly saunters off into the woods. He’s unsure if he’s gone far enough, but he refuses to look back to see. He continues on, his cock throbbing with each step. Once he’s sure he’s far enough, he collapses against a tree.

He groans as he nimbly unties the laces of his trousers and haphazardly yanks them down his thighs along with his underclothes. He’s made a complete and utter mess of himself.

This was not like him. He was not one to make a mess on himself. He has always been in control of any sexual encounter, dissociating from the experience to run through the plan of how he would take his current hookup back to Cazador’s mansion. He knew the plan and didn’t need to rehearse the steps, but he found it easier to get through the sleepless days if he could simply forget every passionless lovemaking he’d had.

He was honestly disgusted with himself. How could he get so carried away? It must’ve been your blood, and the fact that you were the first thinking creature he had ever drank from. Yes, that was surely the reason. Even still, he was left with a full erection covered in his spill. He gingerly touched the slit on his head and hissed from the feeling. It felt… good? This was surely another side effect that your blood had on him.

He looks at the mess he made of himself and curses your name out loud, his cock jumping at the sound. What was it that caused him to act this way? You were definitely... aesthetically pleasing. And although you made choices he didn't always agree with, there was a certain charm about you. Your voice was both soothing and grating, every time you said his name causing something to stir within him. He had convinced himself it was annoyance, but after tonight he wasn't so sure anymore.

He had begun to mindlessly stroke his hardness, rubbing his cum all over in the process. You were always so put together, remaining calm in the most dire of situations even as people yelled and berated you; the only times you showed any negative emotion were when you were treating a wound inflicted in battle. But have you shown any *positive* emotions?

You smiled, but you never laughed. You praised others and were gracious to everyone, but you were always focused on finding a cure for these tadpoles. You were never fully present with anyone, and he longed to change that.

The thought of himself being the reason for your undoing ignites a fire within Astarion, and he fervently pumps his hand as he grips tighter around himself. If the sounds you made while he drank from you were any clue as to how you would react from more intimate activities, he was sure you would be singing at the slightest touch.

He imagines your perfect mouth contorted in pleasure as he puts his years of experience to use. You, the composed leader who let nothing bother them, squirming and crying out his name as he fucked you throughout the night. Would you grasp onto him like you did when he drank from you? Would you yank his hair as you become overstimulated? Would you cry out with every thrust he would make?

And Hells below, would you say his name? At the thought of your voice, he moaned, quickly covering his mouth with his free hand to muffle the noise. Oh, how he would do anything to hear you say his name like that again – with untamed desperation. He would gladly follow you on your useless side quests if it meant he could ravage you each night.

He began to reach his climax for the second time this evening, his mind frantically trying to remember how you felt underneath him. He pictures how warm and inviting you would feel around his cock, how he would fuck you over and over again until you perfectly fit him and only him. His pleasure rapidly overcame him, his cum splattering onto the forest floor.

As he calms down from the high, anxiety courses through his body. He pushes the feeling aside as he makes his way to the nearest lake to clean up. As he washes his body, he can't help but dread what whatever happened might mean. He acted like a feral animal in heat, needing to please himself as soon as possible. And you were the cause.

This wouldn't do. He would not allow you to have any power over him, especially not with something as conflicting as this. No, he would need to make you beg for him, to rely on him for your pleasure, because then you would never get rid of him.

He finishes cleaning himself up and returns back to camp, formulating the perfect plan to make you his. This was exactly what he was used to doing, the only difference being that now his endeavors would lead to his own gain. As he passes your bedroll, the smell of your arousal reaches his nose and his cock throbs from the scent. Whatever he ended up doing, one thing was for certain: he had to gain control over you.

Part 2: Psychic Ecstacy

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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I Come With Knives Pt5

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Am I happy with this chapter? I think so??? I think I was trying to get it to go somewhere it didn't want to go before but I'm happy with how it ends now. I don't know if the words I'm saying make sense I'm so tired lmao

This chapter was inspired by A Lover's Folly (the chapter Fear of Losing It, specifically) by @tripleyeeet! Please go give it a read it's so fucking good

Warnings: angst, blood, murder, canon-typical violence, swearing, hints to a panic attack, Macbeth reference

Word Count: 2,103

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“A mystical and dangerous people, we travel the land, never settling in one place. We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters - your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure.” You look at Astarion from the corner of your eye. Despite his cool, confident demeanor, you can see how tense he is. He’s staring at the man before you like a steak on a silver platter. “I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer. A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I’m no witchdoctor or cut-throat.”

“So what monster are you hunting?”

Astarion pipes in, a devious smirk playing on his lips. You’re shocked the self-proclaimed monster hunter does not take notice of his fangs or the punctures on his neck. Though, Astarion’s are far less prominent than yours - you feel fortunate to have a high collar. “Something terrifying, no doubt. Dragon? Cyclops?” He paused, a teasing lilt in his voice as he adds, “Kobold?”

Gandrel chuckles. “Nothing so dramatic. Actually, this quarry is a bit unusual. My people got word of a missing person, stolen in the night by a vampire. It’s unlikely they’re still alive, but with any luck we’ll find the kidnapper.”

You swallow, but the hunter doesn’t seem to notice. Astarion can hear the spike in your heart rate. “That’s not much to go on.”

“You’re right about that. We do know the victim’s name, though there’s not much work can be done with that save wander around shouting for them.” He tells you the name, and your heart drops. You make a good effort not to show it. Your face is still neutral as before, your body stiffly in position, but with a glance Astarion can see the way your eyes are distant. They flicker over Gandrel’s face, assessing the threat he possesses. You’re trying to work up a plan, an escape route, anything - but fear clouds your thoughts. Astarion can smell the anxiety wafting off you, even through the hunter’s stench.

This shouldn’t be as big of a problem as your mind makes it to be. You could lie, tell him you weren’t stolen, tell him you ran away. Perhaps he would take money for his silence. But what if he chose to take you back anyway? What if she is providing a much higher reward than anything you can offer? You can’t go back. You can’t.

Astarion clears his throat and steps forward. “And if you find them? Where will you be taking them, exactly?”

“With any luck? I’d be taking them back to Berdusk.”

Berdusk. Being able to place a name to the city of your tormentor somehow made it worse. You knew where she resided now - you could simply take a detour from Baldur’s Gate and kill her. But, that would mean going back. Walking within reach of her clutches. You could almost feel her hot breath against your neck. Her nails digging into your skin. You can’t go back to that.

“Are you alright?” Your mind is forced back into your body when the Gur directs his question at you. You search your mind for an excuse, but fall hopelessly short.

Astarion steps in where you falter. “Ah, yes, you remember then, darling?” He speaks, then, to the Gur. “I believe we heard that name along our travels. A mere whisper on the wind.”

The hunter lights up. “Really? Any information you have would be invaluable to my mission.”

He taps his chin, frowning in fake thought. “It’s a bit foggy - we must have crossed paths weeks ago by now. If only I could remember…” He looks at the Gur from the corner of his eye, smirking. “Perhaps I can be enticed to recall just where they went.”

The man sighs. He reaches for his coin purse. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’s reaching for a weapon. He knows who you are. He’s going to kill you. He knows what Astarion is. He’s going to kill you both.

When your mind catches up, the man is on the ground. You kneel over him. Two hands hold your dagger within his eye, hilt-deep. The other stares blankly up at you, mouth gaped around a silent scream. Droplets of blood marr your face, mere specks of warmth and wet.

“Shit.”

Astarion grabs your shoulder, but your mind is still consumed by fear and paranoia. You whirl around, bloody blade bared at the vampire. Your grip is all wrong - you’re terrified. He steps back, hands raised. Your eyes flicker across his face over and over again, but you don’t see him. In his place is a stranger. Someone ready to steal you, haul you back to Berdusk, back to your master.

“As much as I love the offer, now isn’t the time,” he quips. He kneels down slowly, getting to eye-level. His whole face is dark. The reference to sex is completely masked by his seriousness. “You’re safe. You’re not going back - not if I can help it.”

Your hands shake. Drops of blood fall off the knife, landing in the dirt without a sound. His blood. This man’s blood.

Gods, what have you done?

You drop the knife like it burns you to hold it. It clatters to the ground with a dull thud. You didn’t notice before the blood staining your fingers, but you do now. It’s all you can notice. Well, that, and the body beside you.

“I-I killed him,” you stammer out, barely a whisper. Astarion says nothing. He realizes the irony in your guilt just as much as you. “I didn’t even think- I didn’t… Gods.”

Your thoughts are consumed by the red stains. You have to get them off. You have to rid yourself of this ever-growing weight in your stomach. But you don’t have much to wipe it off on. Your clothes? Then you’d have to wash the blood out. (Though, little flecks stick to your collar and sleeves already.) The ground? Rub dirt all over until somehow it removes the red? You couldn’t even entertain the thought. But you needed to get it off.

You frantically wipe the blood away with your hands, only serving to spread it further into your skin. But it’s all you can think to do. You have to get it off. You must. If you don’t… If… Would something bad happen? You’re not sure. It feels like yes, something terrible would occur the longer it sat on your flesh. But what? Why won’t it fucking come off?

You don’t even realize you’re speaking. Half-formed desperate, choked pleas to get rid of the blood. Prayers to higher powers to forgive you - even when you’d never prayed for such a thing before. Insults spewed toward yourself, damning you for being so fucking weak.

So you killed a man, so what? You’d killed hundreds to get you where you kneel. What made him any different?

I killed him in self-defense.

You’ve killed loads of men and creatures alike for the same reason.

He didn’t recognize me.

You don’t know that, do you?

All he had was a name. Not even a description of who he searched for. He wouldn’t recognize me.

And why dwell on that? If he’d recognized you, surely he’d drag you back? Tie you up, gag you, drop you on her doorstep. She’d recognize you.

And she’d punish me. Punish them. And then she’d see my scars. What then?

Then she’d gut you. Slowly. Keeping you alive for as long as possible so she can moan to your screams, so she can lick her fingers clean of your adrenaline-rich blood. She’d even do it in front of her spawn. And they’d love it.

I hurt them.

You fucked up and they paid for it. They’d laugh as you beg for mercy. They’d even join in if they could.

But he didn’t need to die. Astarion, he- He could have led him away. I would have been safe.

And when he realized Astarion sent him on a wild goose chase? He’d turn right back around. And by that point his suspicions would fall to you - the leader. He’d know.

He’d know you’re the monster he hunts.

Hands roughly grab your own, snapping you out of your restless trance. Your skin is not only red from blood, but from how much you rubbed and scratched. Small lines beaded with your own blood where your nails broke the skin. It stung. And finally feeling that pain grounded you further.

“Calm down, for gods’ sakes,” Astarion cursed. He hurriedly pressed a white handkerchief into your hand. It was soft and cool to the touch. Gold embroidery danced around the edges, quickly becoming stained and ruined. “You’re going to rip your skin off.”

You felt everything so vividly. You almost wished you were numb to it again. “I’m sorry,” you croaked. “I don’t know what happened, I just… I thought of her. Of what she’d do to me, and I couldn’t think of another way out.”

He sighed, annoyed but all too understanding. “I was going to send him off North. By the time he realized he’s been had, we would already be in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smirked wickedly, mischief twinkling in his eye, despite the tinge of concern underlying it all. “You’ve simply provided a more permanent solution to our problem.” He glanced over, but you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to look again. “No point worrying about it now.”

“He could have helped,” you chastise. The intensity was only directed toward yourself. “If we paid him or explained or- or something, he could have gone back and said I was dead. Then- then she might have stopped looking for me.”

“And if he didn’t?”

You couldn’t let yourself spiral through that argument again. You just shook your head, opening your eyes to watch as he wiped away the blood. Most of it stayed, requiring water to wash it off - a realization that frightened you. What if the blood never came off?

“I know it may seem hard to believe,” he began. His voice was strained, like he was forcing himself to believe in it too, “but you’re not alone in this fight. If she finds you - Do you hear me? If. - we can protect you. And if she takes you away, we know where to find you now.”

“Berdusk.” He hummed, pleased you understood his meaning.

“Karlach would go on a rampage before she ever lays a finger on you.”

You chuckled weakly at the thought. You could almost picture your companion barging down the front door of the manor, everybody else behind her, as she tears through the place to find you. It’s… comforting.

A shiver runs through your body as the adrenaline finally fades from your system. You sighed. And just when most of your guilt has left, another weight finds itself in your throat - a heavy lump of fear. “I’m afraid to go to Baldur’s Gate,” you admit quietly. He pauses to look up at you, red eyes scanning your face. “Berdusk is so close by.”

“If it’s any consolation, Cazador is in Baldur’s Gate.” You hum; he’s told you this before.

“And you’re walking back into arms reach.” You look up from your hands. “Doesn’t that terrify you?”

He huffs a humorless laugh. “Do I hide my fear that well?” he teased. “Of course I’m terrified. I have no idea how well these tadpoles block his influence. For all I know, the moment I step foot in the Gate, he’ll have full control over me again.

“But if there’s even the slightest chance I could kill him, I’m going to take it. I can’t go back to that life. Not after this.”

Not after experiencing freedom for the first time in too long.

Astarion curls your fingers around the handkerchief so you’ll hold it. He picks up your bloody dagger and cleans the blade on the dead Gur’s clothes. You can’t watch, but you can see the sneer on his face as he does so. He reaches forward and tucks it away in your sheath. It feels heavier at your hip somehow.

He holds you by your arms as you stand, continuing to hold your hands in front of you. It feels wrong to let them hand so casually by your side, and just the thought of using them makes you feel worse. He turns you away from the body, directing you back toward camp.

You can still feel the Gur’s blood in your skin, even after you spend two whole hours washing your hands.

---

Tag List:

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vintagerpg · 8 months

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Dungeonsynth is some strange music. Inspired by synth pioneers and early videogame music, the result is usually spacious, atmospheric electronic music that, despite its ambiance, often seems surprisingly punishing, at least in large doses. Perhaps that is a symptom of its origins among makers of black metal. Regardless, the idea of lo-fi electronic music for dungeon crawling remains a growing scene.

I primarily think of it as a cassette tape scene, thanks to my low key devotion to tape label @heimat_der_katastrophe (I mainly stick to HDK and my Neptune Tower records because I know they aren’t fascists, which I can’t say for certain about a lot of other dungeonsynth, a pitfall of the scene at large that is deeply exhausting). I don’t have a cassette player, but I do have a record player, so when HDK issued the first Kobold album on vinyl I leaped at it. I love Kobold. I love this album in particular. I love the art (which riffs on Bob Maurus’ art for BSOLO: The Ghost of Lion Castle). The original cassette came with a little dungeon map and encounter booklet, but the record came packed with a much fuller retro-styled module.

Everything about it is great. Try and snag a copy if you can find one. Oh, and HDK: do Komorg next?

#tabletop rpg #roleplaying game #dungeons & dragons #rpg #d&d #ttrpg #music #vinyl #DungeonSynth #Kobold #Heimat der Katastrophe

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sscamanderr · 2 days

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Trust

Astarion x gn!reader. My spin on the first biting interaction at camp with our fav vampire. I’ve been having some Thoughts.

Warnings: mentions of blood, light sexual tension. written on my phone. not proof read lol

Teeth bared directly above your face, white and gleaming. Sharp. The sight had you scrambling backward, feet slipping on the bundle of blankets you slept with before your sleep-addled mind cleared and recognized the silver hair and ruby eyes.

“Shit,” whispered that purring voice.

“Astarion?” Your voice was thick with sleep still. Your mysterious companion held his hands up in an attempt to calm you as you matched his movements to stand.

His ethereal eyes remained warily on yours even as he bowed his head. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear,”

You glance at your other sleeping companions; too tired or too far away in their tents to hear. Seems you were lucky that nightmares kept you just on the verge of consciousness. A vampire was in your camp after all. “What’s going on? Were you trying to hurt me-- hurt the others too?”

Campfire flame danced in Astarion’s wide eyes. He inched away from your suspicious look. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I just needed, well…blood.”

“I wondered how long you’d last,”

You had your doubts at first, but the little puzzle pieces kept clicking. The boar your party had found days earlier. The coolness of the brush of his hand despite the battles and time under the sun. That was before you caught yourself staring at him a little too long at the smooth angles of his face, and the silver curls that swept around his elven ears. You were sure he saw you glance at his lips more than a healthy amount. That healthy amount helped you catch a glimpse of two pointed canines.

“You…You know?” He inclined his head slightly, rooted in place. His accusing tone held an urgency for you to continue.

“That you’re a vampire? Yes,” you stated. His searching eyes had you wishing you would sink into the ground.

“How long have you known?” He tilted his head to the side; a curious trait you found endearing if you didn’t think he appeared to be sizing up his next meal. And you very well could have been just that.

“Over a fortnight. Astarion--”

“You didn’t tell the others?”

“No. Gale thinks you have an affinity for blood magic you won’t tell him about and Shadowheart just thinks you’re odd. That’s all I know,” Your shoulders relaxed just a hair when Astarion smirked. He met your eye again and it faded.

“You have been keeping a close eye on me. Is it distrust? Or perhaps something else,”

“Nothing of the sort,” you assured him, “The signs were there, and I put two and two together. You’re not subtle,”

Astarion let out a laugh, airy and flitty. “And what do you plan on doing with your excellent sleuthing skills?”

“Depends entirely on you. How long has it been since you killed someone?”

“I haven’t killed anyone! At least, not for food, since I’m assuming that’s what you mean,” You nodded. “I feed on animals. I know you know that much. Boars, deer, kobolds—whatever I can get,”

You felt his gaze linger on your racing pulse point. He was focused so intently on it your heart raced faster at the attention.

“It’s not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak,” his tongue absently wetted his front teeth. Your lips parted a bit in realization: your sleeping self would have been all too easy for him to get to.

“You wanted to feed on me,”

“I…Well, yes, if I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better,” Astarion straightened and moved closer. “Please,”

The timbre of his voice made your flesh crawl. Not unpleasantly so.

“Why didn’t you ask me instead of trying to sneak a bite in the dark?”

“At best, I thought you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He eyed you up again. “No, I needed you to trust me. You can trust me,”

“I already did trust you. I thought that was clear,” you told him. His eyes flashed with something like surprise.

“Almost too trusting,”

“The least I can do is give you the benefit of the doubt,” you tried a small smile, not enough to show teeth. “The least you can do is trust me too. What do you need?”

Red eyes held you in place. Moonlight illuminated Astarion’s silver curls as he moved closer, footsteps silent on the dirt. “Let’s try to trust each other a little further, hm? I only need a taste,” he hummed, “I swear,”

You pinched your lip between your teeth, refusing to shy away from his predatory lean toward you. This moment held possibly the longest conversation with him you’d had so far. Despite your first meeting— which included a dagger to your throat and your fist thrown at his face— his actions gave you no other reason to doubt him. You did not know the man at all besides the bits and pieces he’d let slip, only on purpose you were sure. He’d kept you all alive thus far. That was enough for you.

“I…How do you want me?”

Astarion smirked. “Presumptuous, darling,”

Your cheeks burned. “Not like that—You know what I mean, asshole,”

“I’m hurt!” He placed a hand over his undead heart and feigned offense. Still, he came face to face with you. You felt your breath pick up when delicate, cool fingers moved your hair from your shoulder, baring your neck to him. Already this was feeling a touch too intimate for your comfort.

“Should I sit?”

“You should,” his words brushed against your skin; gentle, cool as the breeze. You leaned away from his touch, avoiding his eye as you sat in front of him on your bedroll. A log in the fire snapped, making you jump. “You seem nervous, darling,”

“Can’t help it. You want to take a chunk out of me,”

Another airy laugh left the man as he kneeled to your level. “That all?” he tilted his head again to make sure you met his gaze. You broke the charged contact to roll your eyes, allowing him that small win. “I’m no animal. Lie back,”

You tensed as he urged you onto your elbows. Fuck, this was like nothing you’d done before. Astarion was nearly draped over your body as he followed your own movements. His arm planted itself on the ground beside your hip and he began to bow his head toward you. “Wait, wait,” you gasped.

“What’s wrong?” There was no impatience present in his tone. Thankfully. Still, deep-set hunger swam in his ruby irises. Your cheeks flushed deeper at his closeness.

“How badly does it hurt?”

His expression hardened. He studied a spot on your neck, seeming a mile away in his own thoughts. It was emotion deeper than he’d previously allowed you to see.

“I’ll be much gentler than to you than the vampire that did this to me,”

Your curiosity was brimming when you looked at the symmetrical scars on his neck but you did not want to make him uncomfortable, so you remained quiet, and sent him a nod. Your exhale disturbed a few strands of his hair as he closed the distance between you completely.

Astarion’s nose and lips briefly skimmed the artery in your neck and you shivered at the feeling. Little warning alluded to his teeth finding purchase in your skin.

You let out a yelp of surprise, one hand digging into the dirt at your sides and the other flying to grip the front of the vampire’s shirt. Your breath did not come easily; the icy pain was almost too much. You felt your knees curl up as if your body was trying to fold into itself. The reflex nudged him closer.

The pain numbed as you felt him swallow against your throat, drawing your warm blood into his mouth. Your head fell back. His hand was there to catch it.

A fleeting moment of focus made you think the action was rather intimate. Possibly even sweet.

Another gulp. You squeaked, both in pain and in response to the foreignness of his ministrations. You tugged his collar and your eyes fluttered closed. You moaned softly as you regained your breath. His low growl, nothing more than a vibration, rumbled through your veins. Your body warmed.

Embarrassingly, you didn’t realize the rest of your body was moving until Astarion’s hand flattened over your hip. A groan left you when his teeth retracted from you swiftly. A cold hand held your own. Your neck stung when you turned your head.

Astarion’s pupils were blown wide so only a sliver of red outlined them. He’d shoved himself away, dropping your hand and stumbling into a standing position. With his fingers he wiped away your blood staining his lips. You stared, unabashed, when he licked them clean. He panted though he had no use for breath.

Lightheaded and slow, you sat up.

“Are you alright?” Concern rang in your words.

Gods above, Astarion thought, you had blood trickling from the puncture wounds in your neck that’d he’d left—fuck, he wanted to dive back in and lick up the trail leading down your chest—and you’re the one asking him if he’s alright.

His mind cleared. His hunger was satiated for now. His cock was hard. He hated how your moans affected him. He wasn’t even trying to bring them out of you, though he caught himself imagining how he could. Whatever it took to make you trust him, with no doubts. You claimed you already did, but would you go so far as to help him with his personal ambition?

The scent of your blood--gods, he was awash with pleasure of a kind he couldn’t name. He felt strong and…happy. Astarion was certain he’d said that out loud, judging by the shy smile on your lips. He’d have the blissful image and the taste of you on his mind all night.

Astarion made some excuse to get away from you, the first person he’d tasted since turning into the monster he was. He was invigorated. Ready to take on anything and anyone. Something he admitted to himself: he would --possibly, maybe-- willingly do just that for you. He would not soon forget what you had gifted him.

#bg3 #bg3 imagine #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate three #astarion #astarion bg3 #Astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #astarion bg3 imagine #Astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #Astarion ancunin imagine #my work #mine

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chrysopoeias · 2 months

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hi!! i see you're accepting prompts, what about more dunmeshi au? perhaps with hughes, or the homunculi?

p.s. your dunmeshi royai lives in my head rent-free... i love them so much your honour

Hughes would just be a tallman Roy meets after leaving the Hawkeye fam and becoming a soldier. So nothing exciting. I don’t have any ideas for the humonculi either...

But I do want Hayate to be an orphaned/abandoned kobold child that Riza adopts and raises. She has experience lol and roy gets blueballed and jealous

I did try and doodle the rest of the team based on arakawa’s lineup art of them (^:

#ask #draw #royai #rip for getting to these much later and them being only low quality sketches #i got a lot more busy and tired unexpectetly

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dunmeshi-darlings · 23 days

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Little idea I had..

During the dungeon journey the happened across a random wild spell that turns everyone into a hybrid

All except for izutsumi and the reader (cuz they a kobold)

Thinking how the party reacts to the everyday things the reader goes through

Oh this is a delightfully hilarious idea,i approve of it. Perhaps it was a trap laid in the dungeon by thistle or perhaps another adventurer did it, either way the outcomes are funny.

Laios - You have never seen laios so genuinely excited, He cheered and laughed happily at this new transformation. This is everything he could have ever dreamed of. His transformation made him a dog hybrid so he was perhaps the most similar to You as a kobold. You teach him about properly brushing your fur and how to sit with a tail. Though over all laios couldnt be happier, he finally gets to be more than just a tall man and can be a cool hybrid.

Marcille - She was transformed into a Rabbit hybrid, Her long elf ears now even longer floppy rabbit ears. She was far from excited to say the least, Frantically trying to find a spell that could possible fix this, Though she did have to admit the magic was impressively strong. Her bunny legs were a challenge for her to get used to, she could use them for walking sure but they were more suited for hopping. Her tail wasnt as large so she didnt have as many issue sitting as laios did at first. But you still helped teach her how to handle her instincts and not run away at the slightest of loud noises.

Chilchuck - While you had expected him to become some sort of mouse or rat hybrid, however when it turned out he had become a Racoon hybrid was fitting all things considered. The dark fur pattern around his eyes giving him almost a thieves mask, which you couldnt help but chuckle at how ironic it was. you also taught chilchuck about sitting with a tail now but other than that his transformation went the easiest out of anyones. You did happen to note that chilchuck became incredibly prone to washing his hands before and after eating, an instinct that wasnt actually the worst one to follow.

Senshi - At first you were all confused on what senshi had transformed into. The fur was smooth almost velvety, and his hands had grown slightly bigger, and you noticed the mustache portion of his beard had grown. Eventually Laios realized that senshi must have become a mole hybrid which upon reflection made sense. Truthfully not much about senshi had changed, However he had noted that he now had an insatiable craving for things like Treasure bugs, mimics, and living armor again. This you werent sure if you would attribute it to his new mole hybrid existence or just how he is normally. Either way you helped him get used to his fur/hair which was incredibly soft.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios #chilchuck #marcile #senshi #laios touden #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #senshi of izganda

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captainlilyuniverseworld · 1 month

Text

What If...

What if Astarion and Gale had met years prior to the events of the mindflayer invasion? What if instead, Astarion had met a young wizarding apprentice at a bar?

Pairing: Astarion/Gale

Rating M (Nsfw under the cut)

Sweet and Supple

The tavern is noisy when Astarion walks inside, the conversation doesn’t stop but he clocks the interested stares and glances his way as he takes off his cloak and drapes it over his arm. It’d been a long day of signing warrants, issuing warrants, dealing with the petty problems of even pettier people and now he wanted a drink.

Maybe something tart. He passed by a young elfen woman. Her eyes like pools of water. Or spicey, the tiefling near the stairs to the second floor wasn’t hard on the eyes. Maybe robust? He ran a hand through his hair clocking the ranger at the bar.

He sat at the bar, a seat between himself and the ranger and drummed his fingers on the counter as he waited for the bartender. He ordered a glass of wine. Red. It tasted like vinegar but one did have to keep up appearances.

Astarion barely hid his grimace on the first sip and scanned the tavern again. He knew the ranger kept glancing at him. Could feel in the interested stare, the low hum of his pulse from the blood rushing through his veins.

He was prepared to give the ranger what he wanted when another smell reached his nose. Something soft and sweet. He turned in his seat, curious and narrowed his eyes at the young man almost huddled at a small corner table.

Young. With a soft face, dark eyes, shoulder length mousy brown hair. He kept scanning the bar as if he was waiting for someone but it was mostly nerves. There was a glass of wine on the table and a bottle.

Broken heart perhaps? Astarion titled his head to the side.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and stood, ranger forgotten as he made his way to the table. The young man startled when he saw Astarion leaning against the chair opposite him.

“They say drinking alone is worse than finding a kobold in a barrel of firewine,” Astarion smiled a bit. “Waiting for a friend?”

“I…was supposed to,” the young man nodded a little. “Seems, they forgot…” he cleared his throat. “I was just leaving though, you can uh, have the bottle if you like.”

“Now, what did I just say about drinking alone?” Astarion chastised with no real bite behind it. He pulled out the chair he’d been leaning against and sat down. “Stay a spell.” He looked at the bottle and whistled impressed. “Arkhen’s hoard? Pricey.”

“Is it? I uh…just sort of picked something random,” the other man admitted and rubbed the back of his neck.

Astarion leaned back in seat, glancing him over once more, taking in his appearance. He was dressed in a bit more finery than those of this particular tavern might be. There was a half of a crest that he could make out on the young man’s coat.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Astarion guessed.

“I’m visiting from Waterdeep,” the young man told him. “I, well I was visiting Sorcerous Sundries. I had hoped to get a peak at some of their more priceless volumes but, even a student of the great Eliminster can’t get past the clerk…” he sighed. “I’m Gale, by the way.” He offered his hand.

Soft. Warm. He could feel his pulse quicken slightly.

“I’m Astarion,” he smiled and shook his hand.

****

“I um, I have a confession to make,” Gale glanced over at Astarion as they continued to walk down the street of the upper city.

They’d left the tavern a little after the sun had set completely, the air was cool and smelled like saltwater from the docks not too far off. Gale’s cheeks had a nice flush to them, almost rosy in color.

He’d gotten progressively closer to Astarion in the course of their walking. He didn’t seem to pay too much attention to his surroundings once he started talking and gods did he talk.

“I’m an apprentice wizard,” Gale told Astarion. “Elminster is my teacher and I’ve been told I’m something of a prodigy.”

“How modest,” Astarion had teased drinking more of his wine.

He talked about magic, he talked about Elminster, he talked about the Weave and someone named Mystra. Who she was, Astarion had no idea, but Gale was mesmerized by her it seemed.

“And what’s that dear boy?” Astarion asked.

Gale’s cheek darkened more at the term.

“I wasn’t actually waiting for anyone…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I did go to Sorcerous Sundries, but I was hoping to speak to the man who owned the store, the wizard Lorroakan. All I got was a smart ass projection and a not very helpful rare book clerk.”

“So you intended to get drunk and forget it happened?” Astarion asked.

“More of less,” Gale nodded a bit embarrassed.

“Well, I’m glad,” Astarion mused. He reached out, first touching Gale’s cheek, running his thumb over the young man’s lower lip. “Because it meant that I got to meet you.”

“O…Oh?” Gale looked up at him.

Those big dark eyes, so open.

“Mhmm,” Astarion leaned in.

He took his time, both as not to startle Gale, but not so fast that he could pull away if this isn’t what he wanted. He brushed their lips together, Gale still hadn’t moved, but then he surged forward, pressing his lips more firmly to Astarion’s.

Astarion made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, backing them up they were partially hidden under one of the stone walkways. He pressed Gale against the stone wall, one hand at Gale’s lower back, the other braced on the wall.

Gale’s hands were around Astarion, gripping his coat so tightly Astarion was briefly worried it might tear. He only pulled away when he could feel Gale’s chest heaving against his own, the young wizard titled his head back against the wall, panting.

Astarion could almost hear the blood rushing in his veins and moved the hand against the wall to the back of Gale’s neck, wrapping some errant curls around his fingers. He kissed him against, working his way down his chin, his jaw, letting his teeth scrape against the soft skin of his throat.

Gale shivered parting his legs as Astarion nudged them apart with his knee.

Astarion peered up at him threw his lashes. Gale’s eyes were closed, his lips parted, panting. He licked a stripe up his throat and tugged at the ties of Gale’s pants. He wormed his had inside, wrapping his hand around Gale’s cock.

“This alright?” Astarion nibbled at his neck.

“Nng,” Gale thrust into his hand.

“Words darling, words,” Astarion teased.

“Ye..yes, fuck,” Gale held onto his coat tighter. “Please, please, please.”

And who was Astarion to deny such sweet words. He gave a few teasing strokes, smearing the precum along the length. Gale rocked his hand, trying to thrust into Astarion’s hand. His cock throbbed, the scent of him quickly filling the air.

Astarion quickened his pace wanting to time it just right, Gale’s pulse quickened and Astarion opened his mouth, sinking his fangs into the young wizard’s throat as Gale tensed pressing against him, grinding against his knee and hand as he spilled into his hand.

Astarion moaned as the blood filled his mouth. So sweet and supple. Like a pear just the right side of ripe. He pulled back, running his tongue along the marks he made. He slipped his hand from Gale’s pants, licking the spilled seed from his fingers.

Gale slumped against the wall, Astarion shouldering most of his weight. Not that he minded at the moment.

“That was uh...um…” Gale panted and swallowed.

“Wonderful? I couldn’t agree more,” Astarion leaned in and kissed him. Softly this time. “But alas, it is late. Where are you staying?”

“U…uh,” Gale licked his lips and swallowed. “The Elfsong.”

Astarion deftly retied Gale’s pants, stepping back so the young man could compose himself. “I shall walk you there.”

“Oh…I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Gale replied.

“Good thing you’re not asking,” Astarion told him.

The walk to the Elfsong was not as long as Astarion would have preferred. Feeding aside, he actually enjoyed the other man’s company. It was refreshing, not talking about warrants, and citations. Petty problems of the upper elite.

Astarion stopped just outside the Elfsong, with his hands in his pockets. “Will you be in Baldur’s gate long?”

“Couple more days,” Gale nodded. “I wanted to visit the Stormshore Tabernacle. They have a shrine dedicated to Mystra and I’d feel rude not paying my respects.”

“I’ve unfortunately got a mountain of paperwork to accomplish, but perhaps the day after tomorrow, we could do something a bit more proper?” Astarion asked.

“More proper as in, not shamelessly making out and ahem, shoving your hand down my pants,” Gale coughed lightly into his hand. “Not that I minded.”

Astarion chuckled and nodded. “Is that a yes then?”

“Yeah, yes,” Gale nodded.

“Good. Tomorrow night after next,” Astarion told him.

He watched Gale head into the Elfsong and ran his tongue over his teeth again. He could still taste remnants of the sweetness of Gale’s blood, the musk of his seed and turned on his heel as he began his walk home.

“Absolutely delightful,” he mused.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #gale #gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #bloodweave #gale x astarion #what if scenario

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vemaro · 3 months

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

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

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

…

“Astarion? Is … that really you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close your eyes!”

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

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

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

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

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Open your eyes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know, darling.”

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

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

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

Oh.

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

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav x astarion #bg3 astarion #tavstarion #dadstarion?#dadstarion #or it will be #vemaro #ask

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have-a-treato · 7 months

Text

You die, I die, we all die. Have a treato - it'll make it better.

Hello, I am a 30-something lil kobold returning to fandom after many years. Come for the art reblogs, stay for the hornyposting... perhaps occasionally wander over to check out my fics. Whatever you like! we're all weird, queer, and welcoming here.

I also rarely post art at eveysyd

These are my treatos!

*I had These Hands under Gale/Tasha for a while but that's very incorrect, oops

Gale/Tav

These Hands [gn!Tav] AO3

Gale/Tasha (recurring gale/f!tav)

Sweet Things [SFW] AO3

Credentials AO3

Distraction AO3

Astarion/Tav

Alurlssrin [gn!Tav][SFW] AO3

Halsin/Astarion/Tav

Ours [f!Tav] AO3

Halsin/Tav: A Brighter Flame

Chapter 1 | AO3

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

Text

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Chapter 10: After a Love Test

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 3, Canon-typical violence, insecurities, jealousy, clowns

WC: 1.8k words, 10/18 chapters

Summary: Set at the start of Act 3, time with a dyrad leads to some jealousy and some fluff.

Ao3 | [Hug9][Hug11] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Somehow, despite the tumult, despite the horrors of the Shadowlands, your group has stumbled into what can only be described as a fresh, new hell. Or as Karlach eagerly exclaimed, “The Circus!” While your companions are all as Baldurian as you are, only Karlach seemed truly excited to stumble upon the brightly-colored, boisterous affair.

That being said, you’re a sucker for her big, puppy dog eyes, so the entire group files in past the security. You lie and say something about being a knife thrower– not hard to believe considering how you’re equipped– but the chortle from Astarion almost gives you away. It tells you all you need to know, but he whispers to you anyway, “You? A knife-thrower? You’d sooner throw your boot at an enemy.” He’s not wrong, and you’re annoyed at how well he knows you.

“Oh, hush,” you whisper back. “Or if they put us to work, I’ll throw my knives at you.” It doesn’t wipe the grin from his face, but he does let it go.

After some odd adventures with a Djinni, speaking to a rather funny little kobold, and knicking a few items from every stall and unsuspecting spectator, you are starting to find yourself having actual fun. Perhaps it’s the petty theft– your favorite– or more likely, the company. Every time you have a wicked little thought on what to steal, Astarion is right behind you, ready to act on it. Even Shadowheart, who is usually thoroughly fed up with your antics, cracks a smile when Astarion nabs the cheating Djinni’s ring.

You begin to see why Karlach was so very excited to find a circus, and you give yourself to the atmosphere of the place. That’s why, when your group stumbles upon a dryad proclaiming to give love readings, you don’t shy away. In fact, when she declares that you’re in love in front of the group, your lover included, you don’t even blush.

Astarion stands proud at your admission, his head tilting up every so slightly. You can tell that he’s feeling quite pleased, so much so that when you ask him if he’d like to do the love test with you, he doesn’t hesitate.

The group, the circus fades away, an idyllic scene taking its place. A series of three questions pass, and with each answer, you take a step closer to your elven lover. Something about the picturesque scene fills you with a deep wish to run away together, find yourselves a secluded moment like this, away from even this dryad’s prying eyes. Astarion closes the gap between you, the test complete and your love thrumming– or whatever Zethino proclaimed.

“How close you are, two hearts beating a perfect rhythm,” the dryad says, her tone melodic and lulling. “But I know the truth. Only one face holds your dreams each night. Close your eyes, sweetness, and she will come to you.”

What? you think to yourself. You turn toward Astarion who is looking at you, eyes widening ever so slightly in shock. There’s a pain to them that begins to surface, and you shake your head, trying to reassure him.

“Close your eyes,” Zethino repeats. You hesitate, you know you don’t love anyone else, but you were the one who suggested you did this little love test, so it’s up to you to play along. You close your eyes.

There are a few moments of silence, only the sounds of the circus coming through and you begin to wonder if she means to show you anything at all. You open your eyes to ask as much, only to be face-to-face with a grotesque, unnervingly familiar face: the woman from the mindflayer colony.

You recoil at her pale, unnatural visage, and make eye contact with Astarion, who is already reaching for a blade. The woman, Orin, doesn’t seem to be here to fight though. After posturing, not even allowing you to get a single word in, she dissipates into the air. For some reason, your first thought is born of a childish disappointment, was there ever any kind of love test?

The group is phased at this, naturally– she’s confirmed that she’s stalking you all, that she could be watching from any corner, wearing any face. So when you get back to enjoying what’s left of the circus, Astarion’s stormy expression and agitated twitches seem entirely warranted.

You try not to let it get to you, but after a few minutes of this, you say to Karlach and Shadowheart, “You go on ahead, I want to check out this bard with Astarion. Maybe try pickpocketing some distracted audience members.”

Karlach is already mostly over the whole shapeshifter thing, back into full on circus mode. “Say no more, soldier. Shadowheart, let’s go look at the animals!”

Once they turn the corner, you face Astarion. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what,” he says, looking down at his nails nonchalantly, steadfastly ignoring your searching eyes.

“You’re brooding,” you say, reaching out a hand for his. You wait a moment for him to accept it, and when he neither avoids it, nor accepts it, you gently grab a few of his fingers. “Is it Orin?”

His hand relents easily, and, as if moving on its own, intertwines his fingers with your own. “No,” he starts. “Well, kind of.” You wait patiently for him to sort out his thoughts, rubbing a thumb over one of his knuckles to the jaunty beat of the bard next to you.

After a bit, he says, “We’ve been entirely too open and trusting. Even if she wasn’t Orin, wouldn’t you say we were left too vulnerable there, dear.”

You try your best to keep your expression neutral. His concerns are valid, his fears coming from a very real place. But your stomach drops at the idea that this could shatter whatever safety he’s started to feel. “You’re not wrong, love,” you start, measuring your words carefully. “But we know how to handle ourselves. Even as Orin, I know we could take her.”

“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean we should be putting our lives into anyone’s hands but our own,” he scoffs, fingers clasping tightly over yours, as if these two pairs of hands are the only ones that you can trust. “Baldur’s Gate is more dangerous than anything the Shadowlands could throw at us because the dangers look so… mundane.”

“I know,” you say. “All I can say is that I care for you, Astarion. And no matter what the city throws at us, we’ll be together to face it. Just like the love test today.”

The vampire rolls his eyes at your words, but a smile finally creeps onto his face. “Ugh, you’re so utterly saccharine,” he responds. But, despite his words, his arms pull you into a big hug, enveloping you in a blanket of cool leather and his familiar scent. “That being said, if you ever want to do another love test, I'm going to have to squeeze you to death.”

You laugh into his shoulder and say, “Fine, fine. We’ll have to trust that our bond is unbreakable without a magical Master of Love telling us so.”

“Exactly, I don’t need some stranger to tell me what we already know.” He sounds confident, assured to start. But a moment later, his voice comes out as sulky when he follows up with. “It’s not like you have another, more handsome lover like she suggested, right?”

An odd response from him, especially with the petulant face and tone. And you don’t recall the dryad using the word ‘handsome.’ Is he… “Were you… jealous?” you ask, lifting your head up. You’re not teasing, just genuinely wondering if that small statement from an evil woman could elicit such a reaction from your love.

“I was not jealous,” Astarion responds, aghast. “What is there to be jealous of, that ridiculous shapeshifter? A fictional person laying in wait? A particularly muscular tiefling whose company you enjoy? I think not.”

His body betrays his words, his arms around you squeezing almost painfully tight as he talks. You haven’t seen true jealousy on him before, only the occasional moments of self-deprecation or worry, and something about it makes you want to go right back to teasing. “Oh, I don’t know. A shapeshifter could look like anyone, imagine all of the possibilities of a shapeshifting lover,” you say, an exaggerated tone of wistfulness in your voice.

In a wry tone, he responds, “There are scrolls for that.”

“I’m just kidding!” You nudge him playfully in the side. “I don’t actually want a shapeshifter, alright? You’re perfect the way that you are.” He preens a little at that and loosens his grip on you– You take the opportunity to slip out of his arms and look at him head-on. “Now tell me, did she bother you that much?”

“What do you want me to say?” He raises his arms in exasperation. “That when she said you had another love it felt like a troll had taken a club to my chest?”

“I like the imagery,” you remark, helpfully.

“Thank you,” he says, sighs, and continues, calmer now. “Some– very small– part of me was worried. I meant it when I said you deserve something real. You deserve more than real, and what if… what if that just isn’t something a runaway vampire spawn can offer?”

“My love,” you melt under his words, under his pleading red gaze, begging you to love him for who he is– as if you don’t already feel the weight of that love with every single breath you take. “You are so much more than you know. May I hug you?”

He nods, his expression pulling at each and every one of your heart strings. His eyes stay trained on you as you pull him back towards you. You bury your face in his neck and say, “I promise you have no one to be jealous of, I can confidently say no one compares.”

Astarion gives a shaky sigh. “I know. I am phenomenal.”

You stifle a chuckle. “That you are.”

As is typical with an adventuring party like yours, these secluded moments are few and far between. A familiar booming voice crashes into your hug. “Look what I found!” Karlach exclaims. “Face paint, just like the clowns! Fangs, please tell me I can put some face paint on you.”

The vampire stiffens in your arms at the sound of that, but the wheels of mischief are already spinning in your head. “Karlach,” you say. “I think that might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, I know,” she responds, a few kits in hand. “But don’t think you’re escaping either soldier.”

You look at Astarion, mirroring the same panic on his face. Releasing him from your arms, you access the situation. “If we split up, she can’t catch us both.”

“After you, my dear,” he responds.

You turn, only to find Shadowheart waiting, a wicked grin on her face. “Oh no, you don’t. You’ve both had your fun today. Time for us to have ours.”

It’s not long before you and your lover match, sporting the garish colors of a painted clown. Normally, you’d hate this and, on the surface, you certainly still do. But deep down, you feel a lighthearted joy– you told Astarion you’d face anything together, you suppose the circus is no different.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

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hattiestgal · 8 months

Note

Doodle Game!

Perhaps Kiera could get a taste of her own medicine with a cursed object backfiring? Nothing too crazy of course, just a minor inconvenient change?

Sometimes when you retrieve an old magical relic of 100% legitimate origin, you aren't entirely sure what all the effects of said cu- I mean, magical relic really are until you try them yourself.

Typically, the effects are simple transformations, magic Kiera can reverse on her own quite easily, but when it comes to something like say... overwhelming subconscious gluttony, it becomes a little harder to rid yourself of the effects of. Luckily, it seems like her kobolds are happy to indulge her new appetite!

#hat answers #my art #my ocs #Kiera #doodle game #fatfur #wg #HOUGH #also please ignore my unfortunate attempt at lingerie

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monstersdownthepath · 5 days

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Having read through the entirety of Monster Core twice now, I mourn the loss of the basic Aboleth, the Quasit demon, Night Hags, Rust Monsters, the Mimics and Doppelgangers, and many more...

more than most, though, I'm going to miss Tarrasque, but I eagerly await the replacement slated to be coming in War of Immortals. Perhaps Agohbindi will get its chance to shine and shine and shine and shine and shine...?

However, I welcome ALL the replacement monsters (out with Locathah and Sahuagin, in with the Athamaru and Sedacthy!) with open arms, the lore changes to orcs and gnolls kholo, the brand new myriad flavors of Elementals, all the new minions in the Dominion of the Black, the adorable and supremely strange lore of kobolds, all the new Hags, and I especially welcome how god damn weird the Archons have gotten, which has shot my opinion of them up several notches!

Looking forward to see what comes out of the next few bestiaries!

#Pathfinder

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nyxnephilim · 8 months

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Time for a bit of FFXIV speculation :

I realize that a bulk of FFXIV players have already completed the whole of the story arc ( probably more than one time ) so please don't hold it against this 🌱 while I think-out-loud about my feelings towards the story so far even if I'm still experiencing ARR.

( also pls no spoilers, but I appreciate encouragement and assurance my questions will get answered. Lol )

Somethings have been picking at my brain since I encountered them. One of which is when the Amal'Jaa are surprised we do not fall to tempering stating our "soul must belong to another" and then Ifrit himself says that while he can see we do not already serve a primal that the paragons warned the Primals about the godless-blessed one's aborrent existence. Does that mean that while we may or may not be tempered by a primal we are controlled/ guided by some 'other' thing outside the paragons or the 12. If we are being Guided/controlled by what we don't quite understand but is big enough or strong enough for the paragons & primals to worry about —- should we be worried about its overall motive & can it truly be benevolent and omniscient with that much power? Does it seek to follow through with its own agenda regardless of the plight of others.

The reason I say this is because of another encounter that seems to stick in my mind. A point in which Y'stola chastises Merlwyb for breaking the treaty with the Kolbolds. She basically says and has a solid point (that I had already thought of before this scene) when she tells Merlwyb that this constant war with the Kobolds was of her own doing in letting Lominsans break the treaty. The kolbolds are just defending themselves. Or course there is an a back and forth that ensues but the point being both Merlwyb and the Kobolds are doing what they believe to be right for justice sake and for the sake & safety of their people.

I extrapolated this further. What makes us, the scions, so sure that what WE are doing is right? Because a giant crystal says so? We kill gods/primals and move against another society that perhaps (outside of their military) could possibly be wanting freedom and peace like those of Eorzea do. What of the Garlemald society? They can't be all military. Its not hard to believe that there are some suffering at our hands because of what their military decided to do, not them. I guess essentially what I'm saying is, how are we so certain we are not falsely lead to believe what we do is just and right when what we do is kill gods/primals, murder tribes on sight because of who they are and pushing our agenda on them. There is point where there is a kobold says that those of their community at war with us do not represent the whole of their society. … and I hear that the crafting questline with the different tribes show us that not all of the their race want to fight. So is it hard to reason that perhaps not all Ishgardians hate dragons? That not all dragons hate the elezen. That not all Garleans follow their military and that perhaps what we perceive as right may only be a perspective of one cosmologic being with enough power to have us believe in what they want?

on top of the fact that the Ascians say ' if we knew more, that we wouldn't be fighting with them.... that we would basically understand’ ... leaves me feeling 🤯

What the hell is going on? I know mother crystal is our main guide... but tbh I'm feeling pretty sus about things and honestly the motives of Hydaelyn. I realize they are presenting her as a mothering ‘goddess’ but I’ve always been the type of kid to ask “why”

The answer of ‘just because’ … ‘because I said so’….. ‘because this is how it’s always been done’ ….. ‘because I’m the boss’…..

Has NEVER sat well with me. As a kid or now. With my parents, with teachers, with management or upper level bosses. I need to know the why, the motives, the implications or consequences, the benefits. I need this information because the end does not always justify the means. Especially if on a core level I disagree with it and feel there is an alternate route.

That probably says more about me then I intended but yeah… lol

... anyhow.... thank you for letting me just babble on about the beginning of this ( I'm sure to be ) wild ride we all know and love called FFXIV.

:::: Newbie rant over ::::

#ffxiv #🌱sprout #a realm reborn #ff14 ffxiv #newgamer #lore speculation #ARR #New to FFXIV #🌱#final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #first time FFXIV #ffxiv new player #new to gaming #new to MMOs

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outeremissary · 2 months

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Hey everyone who just followed because of a BG3 commission: I have a great game recommendation for you! 💖You should check out Pathfinder: Kingmaker (2018) for suresies. It's got:

the original mean undead elf lawyer companion: a milf

bard companion. everyone loves a bard companion.

narrative foil for YOU

betrayal!

it just keeps happening!!

big ass nature map. for the act 1 greenery enjoyers.

illustrated choose your own adventure sequences. storybook :) *

a large roster of compelling companions who fight all the time. these people cannot get it together

companion banter every time you camp! *

dynamic alignment! watch your simp behavior destroy your moral principles!

your own realm to rule! a bold new frontier of problems to have!

assign your wretched little friends Official Positions in your kingdom and watch them succeed or hilariously fuck up! this is about YOU Regongar!!!!!

goblin friends! a goblin companion!

kobold friends!!!

troll friends?!

goblin singalong!

animal companions out all the time!!! hang out with a big ass wolf or perhaps mastodon!!! **

CHICKEN FAMILIAR **

plot twist that made me actually scream. fuck offff

romances that make me want to bite something. these people are undateable (affectionate)

villain romance... thank you for my life

polyamory for real.

It's not the fanciest game and I'd be lying if I said it didn't have some Real Jank, but I think it's a great narrative experience, the companions have a lot of charm, and it's worth your while to check out as a CRPG. Next time you're looking for a new fantasy realm to explore, consider the Stolen Lands!

*Mechanics also present in Owlcat's other two RPGs.

** Also in the other Owlcat PF game, which adds mounts as well. And dinosaurs. Hey come back the mastodon is just as good-

#shoving the more popular pf game under the bed. pretend you don't see that. kingmaker!!!#originally intended to asterisk alignment but tbh wrath's a different experience. esp with the mythics.#rambling #at what point do you think I have to change my Not Recommended steam review for this game

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pagesfromthevoid · 1 month

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Enchanted | g.d. | 2

Gale x fem!Tav

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I told you I wasn’t sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place…

“We’ve certainly collected a myriad of companions,” Gale observed as he sat down beside her in camp.

A little over a week ago, Tav had been kind enough to pull him from the wall he had managed to trap himself inside of after the illithid ship had crashed. She was even kinder in allowing him to travel with her, Lae’Zel, Astarion and Shadowheart to find a cure for their tadpole problem. Since then, they had collected the Blade of Frontiers and a devil from Avernus as well and were setting out to locate the druid Halsin in order to help the Emerald Grove.

She seemed ready and willing to collect any and all strays along the way, ensuring that everyone was healed, fed, and given a warm place to rest. Her compassionate nature extended not only to humans but to animals too; she would often pause to tend to wounded creatures found on their journey, whether they were injured birds or owlbear cubs –though that was how they came to have Scratch and the very same owlbear cub she had found outside the goblin camp.

Perhaps that was why Gale was so drawn to her already; she was kind and open in a way that he had never experienced before. Her empathy seemed boundless, radiating from her in moments of danger and transformation alike. Even in the face of peril, she remained steadfast, her gentle demeanor a beacon of hope and comfort to those around her. It was as if she possessed an innate ability to soothe troubled souls and mend broken spirits with just a smile and a touch.

“The more people we have, the more likely we are to be safe from whatever we face in the coming days,” she reminded him, though she did not look up from the violin she had snagged from an abandoned caravan as she tried to re-tune it. She had used it earlier to hit a goblin, and while the instrument still worked, the strings had snapped in the process and she was trying to replace them. “Besides, I can’t imagine leaving any of you to your own devices; you were trapped in a wall. Lae’Zel was in a cage, and Karlach was being hunted by Wyll. I’m afraid if I let you wander, you’ll get yourselves killed.”

The playful conversation starts,

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy…

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chastised, chuckling some as he leaned back. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself –though I cannot attest to any of our other friends.”

Tav simply shrugged in response, looking up at him finally with a soft smile. “I’m sure you are, Gale of Waterdeep. With a title like that, I’m sure you’re a fantastic adventurer and this is just another day in paradise.”

Gale simply shrugged in response, though he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as she plucked at the strings of her violin, humming a soft tune to make sure the melody sounded alright. His thoughts drifted to his bard –to the note he had given to the little kobold. Had it really only been a few weeks since he left his tower? With everything that had happened, it had felt like months ago that he had sought out his bard and lost his chance.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she finally announced, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. Gale picked up her violin and held it out to her, smiling some. Tav took it, their fingers brushing against one another just briefly, with her own smile. “Goodnight, Gale. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Tav,” he offered, watching her retreating figure as she slipped into her tent. He averted his gaze as she bent over, looking away with a soft blush when he caught himself staring a little longer than he should have.

“You’re a bit pathetic, you know that?” Astarion suddenly announced, appearing across from Gale as the fire simmered down.

“Excuse me?”

Astarion sipped the wine in his hand, waving his other dismissively. “Please, it’s been a week since she picked you out of that wall and all you do is pine after like a love sick fool.”

“I do not pine. Besides –I have no time for any sort of romantic inclinations. Not with our unwanted guest in our heads.”

Gale rolled his eyes, shaking his head. What a ridiculous notion, he mused, thinking that he had any interest in beginning a relationship in the middle of all of this chaos. Even if he did find Tav attractive and kind and a lovely conversationalist – qualities that he couldn't deny – he couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts, not when the fate of their lives hung in the balance.

Perhaps he did have a bit of a lingering crush on the de facto leader –but that meant little when he couldn't help but stray to the missive he had sent to his bard. Hope flickered within him, albeit faintly, as he imagined her response to his attempt at poetry and his thanks to her. His mind drifted to her every night, even if he didn’t see her face. He didn’t need to know what she looked like when he could hear her voice and recall her words.

Tav was lovely, but she wasn’t his bard and if Gale was to hold onto anything, it had to be her. If anything because the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal –less hurt for him and Tav.

“Then I don’t suppose you would be upset if I made time for her, then?” Astarion questioned, brow quirked up with the smirk that Gale had learned meant nothing good.

Gale opened his mouth to tell him, no, I would not be upset but you shouldn’t touch her still but the sentence got caught in his throat as the orb in his chest pulsed suddenly, shooting a sharp pain through his body. Astarion lurched back, surprised by Gale’s sudden cry of pain as the wizard doubled over and fell to his knees. Gods, now was not the time for this to happen –not in the middle of camp; not with everyone around.

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with you?” Astarion demanded as Tav practically tripped out of her tent to hurry back over. Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach approached as well.

“Gale, are you okay?” Tav asked, touching his shoulder to lay him on his back.

“I just –,” he gasped, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached up and clutched his chest. Her hand covered his, trying to look over his chest for wounds. When she found none, the pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes and clutch her hand in his. “I suppose it’s time I tell you all that I might have what is…essentially a bomb in my chest.” She pulled back some, though she kept her hand in his as he loosened the wrap of his robe, exposing the mark of the Netherese orb that climbed up his chest and to his throat. “It’s a complicated story –long, tedious, and terribly boring, truthfully –but I need –I have to consume magic in order to prevent it from getting worse.”

“How do you consume magic?” She asked, helping him sit up now. “Like, we enchant food or what?”

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “My research determined that I just need magical items that I can siphon the magic from, to hold it over.”

Tav eyed him carefully, her gaze filled with concern. With a gentle yet firm touch, she flattened her hand against his chest, as if trying to soothe the orb nestled within him with just her touch. Gale could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of darkness coiling within him.

He appreciated the gesture more than he could probably express. Her presence alone offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his torment. But despite her efforts, the touch did little to appease the malevolent orb residing inside him. It continued to pulse with an ominous energy, defying all attempts at pacification.

“I think I picked up a helm,” Shadowheart suggested, half jogging back to her tent to go through her things.

“Oh, I picked up a fancy robe –I bet it’s magic,” Karlach offered, following suit.

“I have this.” Tav unclasped a necklace from around her neck –a simple amulet on a chain. The center held an emerald stone and it was encased in fine gold. “It’s definitely magic –it’s the Absolute Confidence Amulet. Nicked it off my old boss before I left Neverwinter a couple years ago.”

“Don’t you need it?” He asked, though he was already reaching for it.

“Not anymore, honestly,” she reassured with a promising smile. “I’m pretty confident in myself without it.”

Gale nodded solemnly, his fingers tightening around the item clutched close to his chest. With a deep breath, he released the magic contained within the amulet, allowing the orb to consume it greedily. As the magical energies dissipated, the necklace crumbled into pieces, scattering at their feet like shards of shattered dreams.

Tav watched the disintegration of the necklace with a bit of resignation. Despite the necessity of the action, there was a sense of loss in witnessing the demise of the once-cherished item. Yet, her smile held a glimmer of hope as she pulled away from him and stood.

“Let us know if you need more. You shouldn’t keep this from us,” she lightly scolded, helping him up from the ground. “We’re in this together –I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to you.”

Gale nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Tav. For the first time in weeks, the pulsing of the orb within him dulled down.

As she moved to pull away, a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, Gale's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of impulse, he reached out and caught her hand, holding it tenderly against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn’t move to pull away –instead her gaze softened as she smiled up at him.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Gale nodded in response to her request, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of trust and affection. In the fleeting moment, he couldn’t help himself as he covered her hand with his once more.

“Thank you, Tav. Truly.”

“Of course, Gale.

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

*****

“Gale seems to be quite taken with you,” Shadowheart commented a few days later, when she and Tav were collecting firewood for the camp.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tav countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I can’t tell if you’re blind or just ignoring how he looks at you.”

“I am not ignoring him,” she conceded, sitting on a fallen tree and dropping the wood in her hands. “I just –it’s complicated.”

“What, do you have someone waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate?” Shadowheart sat beside her, kicking her feet out in front of her.

“I mean, maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

Tav huffed, flushing a bit as she fished through her pockets and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. She handed it to the cleric then dropped her hands into her lap as Shadowheart read it over.

“This is incredibly cheesy,” she laughed, handing it back to her.

“It is not,” Tav argued, shaking her head and snatching the note back. “I don’t know who wrote it, but I have spent years singing to practically no one and this stranger wrote me a poem to tell me my singing saved their life –I suppose I’m just holding out hope that I find them one day.”

“And in the meantime, you’re going to ignore someone who very clearly is in love with you –for someone who you may never meet?” Shadowheart gave her a knowing look, crossing her ankles as she did. “Tav –we don’t have a lot of time with these tadpoles in our heads. While I am not saying you should just bed the wizard for the hells of it…I am saying that you should consider yourself fortunate to have someone that wants to share whatever time we have left with you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pragmatic, religious one that tells me to control myself?”

“Usually I would,” but she shrugged and looked over towards where camp was situated. “But it’s hard to be when it feels like we’re on borrowed time.”

“It also helps to use the sexual tension to your advantage,” Lae’Zel suddenly announced, stepping out of the woods. “You two were taking too long. The wizard was growing concerned. You would do well to act on whatever affections he may hold for you while they last.”

“You’re both incredibly unhelpful and strangely horny,” Tav commented, standing up and gathering the wood in her arms again. “I don’t want to use him for anything —Gale is a good person; he deserves someone who can return his feelings entirely. Not someone who is distracted by a mysterious poet.”

“Tck. Githyanki have no use for poets; we say what we mean without masking it behind pretty words.”

“Thank you for the meaningful contribution to the conversation, Lae’Zel. I’m sure Tav is so happy for your advice.”

“As she should be.”

Tav rolled her eyes at them both, walking away as they began their usual bickering. How could they possibly give her advice when it was clear they had unresolved feelings between the two of them? Ridiculous, the both of them. Besides, she had no desire to give into her feelings for Gale (and she certainly had feelings, she couldn’t deny that). They had tadpoles in their brains and were on a mission to practically save the world. It was easier to pine for a mystery poet who may or may not be there at the end than risk falling in love with someone who not only had a bomb in their chest, but could sprout tentacles at any moment.

No, she was better off without falling for Gale of Waterdeep.

*****

By the end of their day, Gale and the rest of the merry band of weirdos were exhausted. They had managed to free the Druid Halsin from the goblins (while slaughtering the whole lot of them), only for him to ask them to help with breaking a curse on the Shadowlands. And Tav —Mystra bless her —had agreed almost immediately, without hesitation.

Bloodied, battered, and covered in dirt and grime, Gale practically collapsed onto the nearest bedroll close to the campfire. He was first on watch tonight, and while he desperately wanted to sleep, he knew there wouldn’t be a chance in the nine hells anyone would swap with him. Tav laughed at him, nudging him with her foot as she passed by.

“Go get some sleep, Gale. I’ll keep watch,” she offered, lowering to sit at the edge of the roll.

“Absolutely not,” he argued, sitting up to glower down at her. “It’s my turn, and you took up post the other night when the orb acted up.”

“And I’m taking up post tonight as well. Go to bed.” Her voice was firm and she was pushing him away now to get him to move. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you. Deal?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding once, standing up finally. “Deal. And do not hesitate. If I so much as hear you yawn, I’ll be out here.”

“Here’s hoping you’re a heavy sleeper then.”

Gale pushed her head gently, rolling his eyes at her. She giggled, ducking out of his reach as he retreated to the privacy of his tent. He wasn’t kidding; if she yawned before he fell asleep, he would make her swap out. It was only fair, and he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her stay up without even a short rest.

However as soon as his head hit the pillow of his own bedroll, Gale had to fight sleep. It was tempting, and usually he wouldn’t be opposed to going straight to sleep —especially when it beckoned so clearly —but he really did want to make sure she didn’t need him. Whether he wanted to admit his feelings for her or not, Gale couldn’t help but worry for her. It was almost instinctual.

After what felt like hours —though he was certain it was hardly even ten minutes —he began to drift off. Dreams danced in the edge of his mind, words to a song he vaguely recognized from his bard. Then words he knew; his words, softly carrying through the night air.

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth,

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you…

At first, he assumed it was a dream —it wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt of her sweet voice, echoing his words back to him. Relaxing into the feeling of his bard’s voice, he let it wash over him. Let it pull him into the dream world that he desperately wanted to enter for a little while. It was clearer than ever; her voice was sometimes muffled by the dreamscape but not tonight.

Please don’t be in love with someone else,

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you…

The addition to his lines confused him, prompting his eyes to open and look around his tent for a moment. Blinking away the new lines —ones he certainly didn’t recognize and had never dreamed of before —he tried to refocus on his bard and her voice once more, listening to her echo his name even if she didn’t know it yet. But the music didn’t return in his head; it was still clear, as if right outside his tent.

Sitting up, Gale rubbed his eyes in frustration. His exhaustion must be getting to him finally. Truly, he must be hallucinating —

This is me praying that

This was the very first page,

Not where the storyline ends…

“You are absolutely hopeless, Tav, singing that silly little poem,” Shadowheart scolded from outside his tent, though he could hear her retreating to her own. “Goodnight, I hope you dream of your poet.”

Her poet?

Her poet.

Gale was her poet.

Tav was his bard.

“Sweet Hells.”

#gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios

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