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kylobith · 21 hours

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Little Town Tails

Chapter 6: Something Fishy

Summary: A curious visitor comes to Emerald Grove.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 4,831

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

‘Ah, Halsin, there you are!’

‘Good morning, Jaheira,’ he greets the florist back with a bright grin. He wipes his muddy shoes on the rubber mat outside until they are presentable enough to go in. Behind him, Scratch sits at the door, unleashed, waiting for Halsin to be done with his visit before heading home.

Jaheira grins at the white dog and whistles, calling him inside. The dog eyes his owner hesitantly, but when the latter gives him an approving nod, Scratch trots up behind the counter to be petted by his host. She grabs the banana she was snacking on and takes off a piece she offers him.

Halsin approaches the counter and smiles at the sight, always happy to see that his dog is accepted somewhere. While petting Scratch behind the ears, Jaheira looks at his visitor and smirks.

‘Walked around the forest this morning again?’

‘Indeed. The weather was perfect, but last night’s rain made the ground a bit soft, as you could tell from my boots.’

‘It’s always like that. At least they say that this spring will bring more sunny days than usual,’ she adds, chuckling as the dog lies down at her feet. ‘Anyway, did you happen to see Minsc at all? I’ve been trying to call him for two days because he ordered a fresh bouquet, but now the flowers are waning.’

He leans on his elbows and fidgets with one of her business cards on the counter.

‘I did, he was patrolling the area by the other bridge. Had I known, I would have reminded him.’

‘Oh, don’t bother. It’s always like that with him. He tends to forget what he orders on a whim. He’s always ready to support my shop since I opened but he never picks up his orders. He did, once, but that was a flower for Boo’s birthday and he ordered flax seeds. That was it.’

They share a laugh. Minsc certainly is quite the character, anyone meeting him can tell. Quite eccentric compared to the rest of Heawick, but he adds to the charm of the community. Whenever somebody needs help, whether when the flower shop was merely an idea sprouting into Jaheira’s mind or with Beaky’s incident with the bear trap, he never hesitates to lend a hand, even though it tends to distract him from his daily tasks and chores. Yet, there is no better forest warden.

Jaheira flips through the pages of her logbook and finds Halsin’s recent order.

‘So, the spider plant, was it?’ she says absent-mindedly. ‘Found a gorgeous one for you. Fluffy, in good health. Perfect for your counter.’

‘Eager to see it!’

She chuckles and heads to the back to fetch the plant. She returns with precisely what she promised him, setting it down on her counter for him to examine. He touches the long leaves between his fingers, sensing the freshness of their greenish white stripes and admiring the way that they curve elegantly around the gold-painted bucket serving as its display pot.

‘What a beauty!’ he coos, his eyes sparkling in awe. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Eighteen gold coins.’

‘Perfect, thank you.’

He takes out and begins to rummage through his coin purse, which takes Jaheira by surprise and causes her to smile. Shaped like the head of a teddy bear, its fur is made from light brown fleece, and the eyes and nose are embroidered in black and pink thread. He bought it at a flea market a few years ago on one of the rare holidays he allowed himself to take. Many raised an eyebrow to see a grown man buy it for himself, but even though he is far from materialistic, it is one of the few objects that he has grown particularly fond of.

He places the eighteen gold coins in the palm of Jaheira’s hand and slips two more into her tip jar.

‘Thank you,’ she says with a brief bow of her head. ‘Don’t forget to repot it from time to time, the roots tend to grow fast. And water it once to twice a week. It’s usually alright if you skip a week, as long as you don’t do it for a month straight.’

The veterinarian laughs and watches the florist remove the plant from the yellow pot. He purses his lips and tilts his head.

‘How much for that pot? It suits the plant quite well.’

Jaheira stops and eyes the bucket.

‘Oh, this? Ah, just take it. On the house.’

‘Certainly not,’ Halsin protests, unzipping his coin purse again and counting the coins in it. ‘Name your price.’

‘I insist, take it. I bought it years ago but it doesn’t suit my home, I use it for visualisation most of the time… Or as a pencil pot.’

She nudges it towards him with a wink. With a sigh and a heavy blush, Halsin slips ten gold coins into the tip jar and winks back. Once the plant is back in the bucket, he calls out for Scratch, who seeks one last pet from Jaheira, then rushes to his owner’s feet. The veterinarian and the florist exchange cheerful goodbyes, and the former exits the shop with his dog in tow and the spider plant tucked in the crook of his elbow.

Halsin whistles a tune as he crosses Heawick with his free hand buried in his pocket. He nods politely at everybody he sees with a smile and continues his walk back to Emerald Grove. The town is still awaking from its slumber and some of the shops are only just opening. Sometimes it still surprises him that Jaheira decides to open hers this early, but as she once said to him, she prefers to tackle her daily routine in the early hours, then close one or two hours before most shops so she can enjoy the town herself and have a longer evening to relax or meet up with her friends at the old pub on Westway Street.

Come to think of it, it is not such a bad idea. Shop owners and employees seldom have the opportunity to shop for themselves, unless they work half shifts or rely on partners who have the time to buy everything they need. More often, their only occasion to do so is on Saturdays, but the busy aisles deter quite a few. Since Heawick has a wider variety of establishments of all the nearing towns — not counting the city, of course —, its streets bustle with visitors on that particular day.

As he turns onto his street, he switches hands to hold the plant and fumbles through his pocket to find his keys. When he pulls them out and looks up to make sure that he does not walk too far, he notices the figure of a man peering through the windows of the practice. Dressed in black from head to toe, matching with his silky and spiky raven hair, the man does not seem to have come with a pet and does not seem particularly eager to enter.

‘Good morning,’ Halsin greets him with an eyebrow raised. ‘May I help you? Do you have or need an appointment?’

The man is startled despite the veterinarian’s soft tone. He straightens up and looks over at Halsin, seemingly analysing him in detail. The stranger rubs his index and thumb together and scowls at Scratch, who does not dare approach him at all. His demeanour already betrays the fact that he comes from the richer quarters of the city and is not used to visiting the area at all. There is a haughty air to him in the way that he carries himself, as if the word ‘peasant’ is about to slip off his tongue at any moment to describe Halsin and his shockingly unleashed pet.

‘No,’ he replies in a honeyed tone still tinted with firmness. ‘But I will come back later.’

Without uttering another word, the man spins around on his heel and walks away, leaving Halsin utterly confused with his key in hand. What a strange character.

The veterinarian shrugs it off and enters the dark practice, ushering Scratch inside before closing the door again behind him. He walks over to Karlach’s counter and finds a suitable spot for the plant, making sure to stand on both sides of the desk to ensure that the view is not obstructed for neither his assistant or a patient’s owner. But in the end, he finds that it does not quite fit there with the cards and flyers and tip jar, so he carries it over to the small coffee table in the centre of the waiting room. At least, if the anxious pets munch on the leaves, they will not be sick from it.

After a brief shower and a change into scrubs, he lets Scratch rest upstairs and heads back to the practice to follow the daily opening routine. As he takes a minute to make himself a cup of fruity tea — a bold decision considering how often he drinks his signature mint and honey infusion —, his mobile phone pings. Karlach’s name appears on the screen.

‘Morning doc, sorry but I’ll be late today, Vixen just won’t start! I’ll be there ASAP, promise promise!’

Halsin grins and immediately types back as he flicks the light switches on and shuffles towards the front door without paying much attention to his surroundings.

‘It should be quiet for the first hour, hopefully you will have found a way by then. Good luck finding an alternative! Perhaps you can ask Gale? Halsin. PS: I hope that Vixen will be alright. Too bad that she is not the type of vixen that I would treat at the practice :-).’

His wrist flicks to unlock the door while he re-reads the message to correct any typos he might have made. Eager to let some fresh air in, he opens the door wide.

‘Morning, doctor!’

Halsin nearly drops his phone when he jolts in surprise, not having expected that somebody might have already arrived. After all, he does not have any appointment planned before an hour. Outside, wiping her feet on the mat, Tav smiles at him with twinkling eyes and a light flush from noticing that her sudden greeting startled him.

His heart instantly leaps inside his chest and his lips mirror her grin.

‘Oh, good morning Miss Ashguard! I apologise for my reaction, I did not expect such an early visit. Is everything alright?’

Tav quickly combs her fingers through her freshly-cut curtain fringe. It suits her incredibly well, he catches himself thinking. The way that it sweeps across her eyebrows, its colour only highlighting the deep blue of her irises… It nearly steals the breath from his lungs.

‘Yes, yes, everything’s fine!’

He steps aside and invites her inside. As she passes him by with a light step, he closes his eyes for a second, savouring the aroma of her flowery perfume. As he realises what he is doing, he clears his throat and follows her to the reception.

‘Do you need anything more for the case against Mr Bongle? Perhaps I have forgotten to include some information in the report?’

She leans her elbows on the counter and does not seem able to eff the smile across her rosy cheeks. The sight, however sweet and pleasant, does stir something within him and he curses himself internally for reacting the way that he does.

‘No, not at all. The lawyer said it was quite complete, actually. She’s revising the case and I just have to wait now,’ she chimes with a shrug. ‘I’ve come here because there’s a stray cat in my street that’s been going around for a while but lately he’s been looking quite thinner. The old lady who used to feed it everyday died a few weeks ago, and I’m not sure anyone feeds him anymore.’

Her gaze wanders over to the rows of kibble bags on the display shelves.

‘I’d like to buy some food for him just to be on the safe side, and since I don’t want to risk giving him the wrong stuff, I thought I’d buy it here.’

‘I see,’ he responds with a nod. His eyes brighten up at the thought that she cares for an animal that is not hers. Most people he has seen refuse to approach stray animals out of fear that they might catch diseases or fleas, and while some caution is always advised, too many of them end up suffering all sorts of infections that go untreated and only cause them agony. Knowing that there is someone like Tav out there caring enough to notice the change in the cat’s weight gives him hope.

Halsin steps back to peruse the selection he has got, heading straight to the cat section.

‘Do you know how old the cat is, approximately?’ he asks.

‘Mmh, he doesn’t look too old. Hears and sees properly from what I know, his fur isn’t too patchy. Some neighbour said the old lady fed him for about three years.’

‘Then let us take one for adult cats to be on the safe side. I suppose that you do not happen to know what type of kibble she gave him?’

‘Not at all. Sorry.’

He nods and asks her a few more questions about what behaviours she has noticed from the cat in general. Once he is able to define a clearer profile of the animal, he picks a bag and sets it down on the counter, pointing at the information written on it with his pen.

‘This is food that is perfect for a cat used to the outdoors, aged five years or more. If it turns out that he is slightly younger, that should not cause any trouble. Since you said that he is on the lighter side, I would recommend thirty grammes of kibble per day. See how much he manages to eat and add a little more if he starts gaining a bit of weight again. But do not give him more than forty-five grammes, since it is likely that he hunts mice or birds on the side.’

‘Noted!’

Reaching into a cabinet behind the reception, he takes out a measuring cup and places it next to the bag.

‘This should help you measure the food without a kitchen scale.’

‘Practical. Alright, let’s take it!’

Halsin smiles and circles the recommended doses on the bag so she does not forget the amount he has told her to give the stray cat. He signs in to his software and enters the right reference to log the sale.

‘Would you like me to add it to your patient account in case you need to buy some new kibble later on?’

‘Gladly,’ she responds cheerfully, leaning her cheek into the palm of her hand while watching him typing on the keyboard.

‘Done! That will be twenty-two gold coins, please. The measuring cup is free.’

Tav takes out her credit card and pays for the bag. Once her wallet is stored away into her small cross-body bag, she carries the dry food under her arm and holds the measuring cup between her fingers.

‘Thank you very much, doctor.’

‘You are most welcome. If anything, I should thank you for caring for the cat.’

She returns his smile and tucks her hair behind her pointy ear, whose tip is reddening. Before he starts staring at it, Halsin drums his fingers on the counter.

‘Oh, before I forget, I beg you not to leave out milk for the cat, because—’

‘— because cats are naturally lactose intolerant,’ she completes his sentence with a smug expression that can be likened to this of a pupil who is proud to show that they have learnt their lessons by heart.

‘Indeed,’ he chuckles. ‘Well, it seems that the cat is in most capable hands, I can sleep soundly at night.’

Tav laughs and readjusts her grip on the bag.

‘When I’m released into society, I’m the type to always bring up that fact and everyone gets annoyed,’ she laughs.

‘At least you are spreading the good word out there. I did not know that you were doing public service on top of jingle compositions.’

‘I’m full of surprises, doctor.’

They share a playful grin, which lingers perhaps a bit longer than it should. His heart stirs when he notices the twinkle in her eye and the subtle reddening of her cheekbones. When her fingers unconsciously loosen around the measuring cup and it slips out of her grasp, he skilfully catches it before it bounces on the floor and hands it back to her.

‘Oh, thanks,’ she mumbles bashfully, tucking it under her free arm. ‘If anything goes wrong with the cat, can I try and bring him here?’

‘Of course. I will be happy to help.’

‘You’re the best! Thanks again. Have a lovely day, doctor.’

‘You too, Miss Ashguard. If you have any doubts, you can always contact me.’

‘I will!’

She waves at him and walks out of the practice. His eyes follow her as he sighs dreamily. However, his distraction is quickly cut short when he finds himself face to face with Astarion stepping inside with a cup of blood from the butcher.

‘Morning.’

‘Ah, good morning, my friend! Could I ask you a favour?’

The vampire grunts and slides his sunglasses up, letting them rest on top of his head. His ruby irises scowl at the veterinarian. Favours are never good in the younger man’s book. Or rarely.

‘I suppose I don’t have a choice,’ he mumbles. ‘What do you want?’

Halsin crosses his arms. No matter how much he tries to connect with him, even if just on a superficial level, Astarion always keeps his guard up and his distance. Honeyed words sometimes ornate his speech, but they never feel genuine, merely a façade that shelters him from others. He does not need to befriend him, of course, but he wishes that they could get along as well as he and Karlach do. But again, everything is easier with her. Sometimes, she might be too social and kind in a world that does not always value such qualities.

‘Karlach’s motorcycle broke down this morning, so she will be late. Do you mind working the reception until she arrives?’

Panic fills Astarion’s eyes right away. He furrows his brow and tries to act nonchalant, but his hesitation clearly stands out.

‘Wh— I don’t even know how any of this works!’

‘Do not worry, I am not saying that you must do all her tasks. If you could keep an eye on the appointments list and welcome the patients, that will help tremendously already. If the phone rings, answer it and write down the names and numbers, I will call them back between consultations. If it is urgent, do not hang up; call for me instead.’

‘Mh. That sounds doable. Alright.’

Astarion walks to the kitchen to drop his jacket and sunglasses, then comes back to the reception. He sits behind the desk and Halsin shows him everything he needs to know. Then, the veterinarian walks into his office and logs in to the general inbox and answers some emails himself.

Soon enough, the first appointment of the day arrives and Astarion directs them to the waiting room, where Halsin eventually comes to call them in. The consultation goes smoothly despite the very reticent puppy howling dramatically at the prospect of receiving one of her first shots. When he is done, Halsin guides the owner and the pet to the reception and registers the payment himself, before offering a treat to the brave puppy.

When they walk out, Halsin’s phone pings again.

‘Found a way, Dammon is bringing me. Be there in ten. Btw, doc, did you just make a joke?? And use a smiley??! Who are you and what did you do to Doc Halsin???’

Halsin laughs and updates Astarion on Karlach’s estimated time of arrival. Before the second consultation, a grumpy customer enters and asks for an anti-flea treatment suitable for a corgi. Once he has explained how to apply the solution efficiently, the veterinarian slithers back behind the desk and Astarion rolls a few inches away with his chair to give him enough space to deal with it all.

‘Do you already have an account?’ Halsin asks the amber-eyed tiefling, whose tail is whipping around behind him in annoyance.

‘This little shit is not my dog, thank the Gods!’ the customer answers with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. ‘He’s my sister’s.’

‘I see. Does she have an account?’

‘Listen, can I just buy the treatment and go? I feel like I’m being devoured by fleas myself as we speak!’

‘Of course.’

Without protesting, he processes the sale and gives the little pipettes to the young man, who turns around with another scoff and leaves as fast as he can, scratching his head harder than he probably should.

Eyeing the man with concern, Halsin leans towards Astarion.

‘Do you think the dog is at risk with him?’

Much to his surprise, the vampire laughs while filing his nails and admiring the result.

‘Most likely. I know him. Well, know is perhaps a strong word, but I’ve spoken to him a few times. As you can clearly tell, he’s from the city. He’s one of the most arrogant pricks I’ve talked to, and it takes one to know one. He owns a bookshop specialised in academic publications of all sorts, and my husband happens to love the place.’

Could it be? Is he actually opening up by accepting to gossip with him? Not that Halsin particularly likes hearsay and talking negatively about people in their backs, but this exchange already brightens up his day.

The vampire carefully taps his glass nail file on the edge of the bin under the desk to rid it of dust, then tucks it away in its little sleeve.

‘But don’t worry, Rolan’s all bark and no bite, he won’t hurt that pup,’ he continues while shoving the file inside his shirt pocket. ‘You know, he’s clever and all, but Gale took him down a notch a couple of times. You know what? I think my husband’s at his hottest when he gives arrogant people a reality check.’

‘That is good to know, I suppose.’

‘Trust me, doc, I think your next appointment’s here.’

Indeed, the next patient comes in and Halsin welcomes him warmly. Halfway through the consultation, he hears the faint sounds of the sewing machine upstairs, and he concludes that Karlach must have arrived in the meantime and relieved Astarion of his temporary duty.

Halsin does not see her until he finishes the next examination and logs everything into the computer. His assistant pokes her head in when the patient leaves and speaks in a hushed voice.

‘Morning, doc! Uh… There’s an odd chum lurking around in the lobby, doesn’t have a pet or anything and he keeps ignoring me when I ask him if I can help him.’

The veterinarian turns around with an eyebrow raised and instantly rises from his high stool.

‘Go back to the reception, I will talk to him.’

Karlach nods and does as he instructed her, sitting back on her chair and anxiously browsing playlists for something that will calm her nerves while being acceptable to play from the practice’s speakers. Situations like this one is among those she has been dreading most about working at Emerald Grove. Owners losing their pets and leaving without their furry or feathery friends remains the worst of all, but weird and creepy people are close.

In previous jobs, she had her fair share of lurking visitors and customers who made her feel uncomfortable, but the employee handbooks always stated that she could not shoo them away outright. Either a manager or security had to do it. Sadly, it often left her feeling incapable of fending for herself and infantilised.

Soon enough and much to her relief, help is on the way and Halsin arrives, clicking a pen. Without making himself look menacing either, he puffs up his chest slightly. If anybody seeks trouble, he is hoping that his size and his brawn will dissuade whoever stands before him. But as he catches a glimpse of the man in question, his stomach tightens. Intent on not showing his discomfort to Karlach, he smiles and speaks as naturally as possible.

‘Good afternoon, sir. I believe we have met this morning, you were looking inside the practice before opening time?’

The man turns around with a smug smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes so dark that one cannot quite pinpoint their colour. Now that Halsin is closer, he can discern the man’s outfit more clearly. Tucked into high-waisted trousers, his tailored black silk shirt with the top five buttons left undone allows his black chest hair to peek out. His overcoat adorned with golden embroideries has its collar upturned, completely covering the back of his neck. If anything, it gives him a menacing look, as though he is the villain of a fairytale come to life, but dressed as a model.

‘You are the veterinarian who owns the practice, aren’t you?’ the man answers at last with a brief squint of his eyes.

‘Indeed, I am. May I be of any help?’

‘Oh, I am merely looking around.’

As he says so, the stranger buries his hands into his pockets and paces around, inspecting the walls and the layout of the reception and the waiting room. Karlach sneaks a glance towards her boss, wondering how he is going to handle this most peculiar situation. Without blinking, Halsin steps forward, tucking his pen into the breast pocket of his scrubs.

‘May I know what you are looking for, sir?’

‘This is a beautiful working space you’ve got here. Most impressive.’

Before he can press him on, the stranger faces Halsin with a smirk, rubbing his fingers together in the same unsettling way that he did earlier this morning.

‘Tell me, have you ever considered selling this practice?’

Halsin crosses his arms. This time, he has no intention to behave in the same friendly manner. While he knows that escalating such a ridiculous situation would be useless, he knows now that he does not want this man lurking around anymore.

‘No, sir. We have only just opened, thank you very much. Now, if you do not wish to make an appointment or buy anything for a pet, I kindly ask you to leave. I must soon tend to another patient.’

‘Oh, that’s a bloody shame. Well. I’ll see what I can do.’

The man reaches into his inside pocket and takes out a business card, which he hands the veterinarian by tucking it between two well-groomed fingers.

‘In case you change your mind, I would be very happy to discuss it with you. Here’s my contact information. The name’s Enver Gortash.’

Without as much as a goodbye, Gortash walks out of the practice, leaving a dumbfounded pair at the reception. Karlach stands up from her chair, her gaze shifting between the door and Halsin.

‘What in the hells just happened, doc? What the fuck was that about?’

Her boss examines the business card he is holding with a deep frown.

‘I have no clue, Karlach. I am quite at a loss, to be honest with you.’

‘What did he say his name was?’

Halsin hands her the business card. Before she even gives it a look, she sits back on her chair and drags her keyboard towards herself, instantly typing the name in her browser. His curiosity piqued by the results, he joins her behind the desk and leans in to read what comes up on the screen. Karlach clicks on a biographical article from a business-centred media website and begins to skim it.

‘Fuck me, Gortash’s quite the big guy,’ she mumbles pensively. ‘Owns a big company that owns lots of brands itself. Apparently, he’s known for gentrifying the shit out of many neighbourhoods in several cities already. He’s kicked out independent shops to establish a coffee chain and turning flats into offices.’

His eyes scan the same words and the more they read, the tighter the lump in his throat feels. Karlach hands him the mouse so he can peruse the article himself and open others. He checks several sources, and much to his dismay, the information they read in the first article seem to be confirmed through others.

‘I do not like how that sounds,’ he whispers.

‘Me neither, doc. But now that you told him off, he’ll lose interest, right?’

‘Mh. I doubt it. But now I wonder if he has shown interest in other places in Heawick. There is only one way to know.’

The assistant looks up quizzically as he sighs heavily and crosses his arms.

‘If anybody in Heawick knows anything, it is Melly.’

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi @reignydeys @cakenpiewhyohmy @beardedladyqueen

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 6 months

Text

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I litterally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them!

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in those eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walk away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed, but your actions didn’t; you didn’t let him use your eyes to copy his scars. You couldn’t.

All for him to walk away.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, actually. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hell, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

You think, right now, it’s night. Your candle’s are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment.

You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. And maybe even get back on the path to save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding.

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. Your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him… “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with something sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours. You realize that even if he is so close… Astarion hesitates to touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized… maybe this was for the better.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands.

All you can do in that moment is cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. Of course, the last time he walked away from you he didn’t return…

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, trusting Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, taking the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair,” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let his work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely to your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He truly was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion let you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watched as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. With the morning light, they could only stare at one another a moment.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turned from Karlach, and brushed some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shaodowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkable polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 x reader #just... thinking about how alone and afriad he would feel after that #made me kind of insane

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tragedybunny · 7 months

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Moon Blood - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW, TW: Period Sex

I know it's been done before, but it's the most delicious notion.

Reader awakes one morning to find themselves menstruating. Astarion has a plan to help them clean up.

It starts when you wake that early afternoon, your body’s way of celebrating its liberation from the tadpole apparently. Two days out from the near cataclysm and you woke to the uncomfortable warmth of blood spattering your thighs. Early, an annoyance. Beside you, Astarion dozes peacefully, sleeping what little he needs to, arm wrapped tightly around you as though you could vanish if it weren’t. You’d been doing what you could to help the city, but after everything that had happened, he was your main priority. Perhaps that was selfish but didn’t you and him deserve a little selfishness?

Across the room you eye the wash basin, so close but so far with your love’s death grip on you. Delicately, you try to move him, enough to slip out, but not wake him. Pushing his arm down only causes him to hold tighter and you push again, a little harder. “But Darling,” he murmurs and wraps both arms around you, to drag you close. At this rate you were going to ruin the bed in the room you’d very kindly been given.

“Astarion,” you whisper and shake him, frustration growing.

There’s a little pang of guilt when his eyes slowly open, you do hate to wake him when he actually sleeps. “Is something wrong, Love,” he asks sleepily.

Unguarded and disheveled, he’s incredibly alluring, more so because you’re the only person in the world to see him like this. For a moment you forget to answer as your body fills with an ache for him, heightened by your current state. “Uh, no, I’m, I just need to get up.”

Eyes widen, suddenly alert, and he sits up, inhaling sharply. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s…,” why is this so embarrassing, it’s perfectly natural, “it’s moon blood.”

The look on his face shifts from concern to hunger. “Moon blood,” he repeats, glancing down to your red stained thighs, tongue idly licking his fangs.

Warmth travels across your skin and you know it's turning a bright shade of red, the insinuation you think you hear in his tone makes you shiver. “Y-yes, love, and I need to clean it up,” he can’t really be thinking that.

“Perish the thought my Darling,” you swallow thickly. "That would be such a terrible waste." The way he hovers over you gives you a sense of being prey and you almost whimper out loud. Reaching out, he tilts your head up, capturing you in a deep kiss, and then whispering in your ear. "Allow me."

The thought is intoxicating even as it feels forbidden. Your mouth is too dry and your voice doesn't work. "I…," you only manage a breathy gasp after that.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl, and tell me that's what you want," he speaks against your ear, nipping the pointed tip of it.

Still holding your chin, he forces you to look him in the eyes. "I-I want you to clean me up." He smiles devilishly and gestures for you to continue. Your startled mind takes a minute to realize what he wants. "Please."

"Good girl," you quiver at the words.

With gentle firmness his hands push your shoulders back toward the mattress, before tossing the discarded blanket to the floor. "Spread your legs," he commands, encouraging you with an insistent grip on your thighs. "Gorgeous," he exhales at the sight of you.

Kneeling between your legs, he captures your lips again, and then begins to kiss down your body, firmly pining your hands back down when you reach for him. The message is clear, you've surrendered control to him. Little nipping kisses are planted from your neck to your abdomen, special attention is lavished on your now overly sensitive nipples. You fight to keep your hands at your sides as he trails his tongue over one before you feel the sharp bite of one of his fangs. Your hips buck and you whine. "Please."

"Patience my Love." The torture continues on your other nipple until you're writhing. Only then does he resume his path, pausing just before reaching your eager sex.

"Hmm," he torments you, "so much to savor."

He licks a wide swath over one of your crimson painted thighs and sighs. "Astarion," you whine, mad with need.

Ignoring you, he takes his time cleaning up your thighs, savoring the taste. Working his way closer and closer to where you want him the most, only to pull away and start on the other. Groaning, you frustratedly slap the mattress. "Girls who can't behave themselves don't get my help," he teases and you quiet.

The first swipe of his tongue against your cunt brings a moan to your lips. The euphoria has just begun though. Slow, languid licks explore you, tasting the blood and slick of your arousal, lavishing every inch of you. Astarion groans against you. "You're delectable my Darling," his words are punctuated by his tongue penetrating you, leaving you mewling.

Two fingers start to caress your sensitive bud as his tongue continues to torture you, pushing as deep as he can. His own little noises of pleasure join yours as he devours you, lapping and sucking until you're desperately writhing against his face. "Astarion, I need t-," your words are lost as his mouth moves to your clit, taking it between his teeth and sucking.

"Come for me my sweet," he commands, fingers entering you and moving with the perfect rhythm to set everyone of your nerves on fire. With his divine attentions you don't last long, crying his name as you see stars.

He isn't done though. Before you can come down, he shifts back to kneeling and looks down at you, chin painted red and eyes hazy with lust. "Yes," you breathe, in answer to the question he hasn’t asked yet.

He thrusts inside you, the sensation of being filled so quickly, so completely, pulling another moan from you. "Always so eager for me," he growls, driving you mad.

Holding your hips in an iron grip, he fucks you with a wild need. So much for the borrowed bed you lament for a second before being washed away again. "Gods," you pull your legs back to your chest, desperate to take him as deep as possible.

"Fuck, Love," he groans, "taking it so good. My little bloody mess. Naughty girl might need to be cleaned up again." The words do you in a second time and you come, quivering around him.

He doesn't let up his pace, every moment of your orgasm filled with fresh sparks of bliss, until with a last deep stroke you feel his seed pumping into you. He leans down, kissing you, and the taste of all of you on him is intoxicating. "Sorry Love," he pulls away smirking. "I don't think I was much help after all."

#astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #my fanfiction #Baldur's gate 3 fanfic #my writing #X reader

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restlesswritingss · 1 month

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In which Astarion goes too far

Warnings: fighting and angst

Astarion x reader

Tav hadn't ever had a real relationship. It had made things even more difficult for they and Astarion to form one. But the two of them were working through it, slowly but surely. A big problem was Tav didn't know how to ask for what they want from Astarion, not that he was much better about that. However, Astarion was good at reading them. Like now, when it was written all over their face that they were jealous.

Astarion was going to have fun with this. Halsin was the culprit of it all, the sexy brute. Astarion had been terrified when the druid had propositioned his lover, but the knowledge that Tav wanted him and only him had truly emboldened Astarion. He was back to his annoying and flirty self now that he knew where he and Tav's loyalties lied. None of their other exceptionally horny companions would come in the way of that. That didn't mean Astarion couldn't tease and taunt them with it, like dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. All good honest fun.

Except now his teasing touches and flirty eyes towards Halsin was being seen by Tav. Tav who looked ready to bite off the man's head. If looks could kill as they say.

Astarion leaned in a little too close to hear whatever the Hells Halsin was saying, and Tav's entire demeanor shifted. They looked liked a kicked puppy seconds away from tears. That made Astarion jerk back from Halsin. This wasn't supposed to genuinely upset them. Astarion was just hoping for a little bit of possessiveness and rough making out in their tent.

He left Halsin mid-sentence, who at first felt slighted but understood when he saw Astarion was going to his lover. He wished them the best despite his own desires for them both.

Tav had turned away and was about to isolate themself in their tent when a cold but familiar hand wrapped around their wrist. They sighed, not particularly wanting to see Astarion after seeing that he didn't seem fully satisfied with their relationship status.

The two had only explicitly said that Tav wouldn't sleep with anyone else, they had assumed that extended to Astarion as well but that now seemed foolishly naive.

Astarion felt internal panic as Tav shifted away from him. Had he pushed them too far?

"Darling, I-" he began purposefully putting more honey into his words than normal, but cut himself off when he saw just how truly distressed they were once they faced him fully.

Tav was trying to put on a brave face, but despair was in their eyes.

"I did not mean to hurt you, I was just having fun," Astarion dropped all pretense of performance from his voice. That was getting easier and easier to do with Tav.

Tav shrugged off his almost-apology, not wanting to be a burden.

"You are free to discover your sexuality however you choose, gods know you deserve it. I just wish you would tell me whenever you find comfort in others, I-," Tav hesitated, worried they were asking too much of him.

But Astarion cut them off, "Find comfort in others? You think I genuinely wanted to sleep with Halsin?"

Astarion says that sentence a bit too loud, his offense overriding his desire to keep his relationship more private.

Tav shrugged again and mumbled, "It sure looked like it back there."

At this, Astarion scoffed making Tav's blood boil. He couldn't take their relationship seriously for five minutes. They were just trying to have a real and honest conversation with him and he was mocking them.

Tav yanked their hand out of his wrist, "Fine, do what you want with whoever you do actually want. At least do me the curtesy of telling me before doing it right in front of my face."

Astarion reared back at the venom in their voice. He knew this was his own doing, but the worst part of him wanted to fight back. He'd never been able to fight back before.

So he threw his hands up and yelled, "Well darling, don't be surprised then when I make my way through our plethora of eligible companions. You're not the only one in high demand."

His insecurity about everyone wanting Tav came in at the end and he regretted showing that weakness in the moment.

Tears started to truly fall down Tav's cheeks at his words and he immediately wanted to take everything back. But they didn't give him the chance, they just turned away and retreated to their tent. It is in this moment that Astarion realized everyone was looking at them. None of these assholes had any sense of privacy or minding their own fucking business. With nothing else to do that would save his dignity, he simply sneered at them and stalked off into the woods. He hadn't put his tent up in the assumption he would spend the night in his lover's tent but he'd gone and royally fucked that up.

Astarion was no stranger to screwing up a romantic interaction but this one was the worst. Sure, there was no vampiric master to punish him when he went home empty handed, but he had hurt someone he loved. The first someone he ever truly loved. Hells, he half-heartedly thought, I'd rather take a night of torture than this guilt.

His heart is hurting and this pain isn't something he has ever felt before. He'd gotten attached to certain marks and felt the weight of their deaths on his conscience. But this, this was different. Tav wasn't going to meet a gruesome death, but he'd broken their heart entirely of his own volition. He was no longer a puppet and with this new autonomy he just lashes out at the one person who'd cared for him. He was as bad as Cazador always said he was.

A rustling behind him alerts Astarion that he is no longer alone in the clearing he'd found to sulk in. Of course it is Tav coming to check on him. They were always thinking of him and his wellbeing. And he went and threw that love away.

"Star, please come to bed. It's not safe out here," their voice was soft and pleading.

"You want me to come to your tent after that fight?" He scoffed, self-loathing coating his tongue.

Tav approached him slowly as if he were a wounded animal. Anger reared up in his chest as he felt pitied, but then he saw their eyes. They were just as kind and loving as always. There was hurt, yes, but the love hadn't left. They still cared about him.

"How can you love me?" The words came out coarse and desperate as he bit back a sob.

That made Tav stop, and his body screamed for them to come closer.

They tilted their head and looked him up and down before saying, "I just do."

He laughed, light and fleeting, "You just do? Well, I suppose that is really all that matters then darling. Come here please."

He held out his hand to Tav, which they gladly took and allowed themself to be pulled into his embrace. Astarion melted into the kiss, his arms completely engulfing his love. His love. He ought to tell them he loved them.

"I love you as well. I am sorry for my outburst. The way I spoke to you," he paused, shame overtaking him, "it was deplorable and wrong. I don't want anyone else in my bed but you. Ever."

Tav sighed and released a mountain of tension from their shoulders. They became putty in his arms.

"I know, I'm sorry for being childish and petty rather than just expressing that I want us both to be exclusively each other's," their voice was muffled as they snuggled into his neck.

Astarion sighed back, happily, "I want that too."

#i kind of hate this but for my mental health i need to get through finishing my drafts #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 fanfic

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whatacaitastrophe · 2 months

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Just About Snapped

Summary: Gale stands up to Mystra when she summons him to the Stormshore Tabernacle and is so jacked up on Mountain Dew after that public sex ensues. (he’s not drinking mountain dew i’m just quoting talladega nights)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Warnings: Public Sex, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Porn with Plot, inappropriate use of Arcane Lock, time works the way I say it works, let me live, You've heard of Astarion fucking on his own grave, but have you considered: Gale fucking on an altar dedicated to Mystra as a fuck you?

When Elminster showed up the moment they walked out of Sorcerer’s Sundries with The Annals of Karsus in Gale’s pack, Fallon had to laugh. The goddess of magic had all but ignored Gale for more than a year, and now she was sending Elminster on her behalf twice in the span of a fortnight; and this time, she wanted to speak to Gale herself.

“How could she possibly know we read a book?” Fallon asked Gale once Elminster departed.

“Trust me, by even opening the book containing the type of magic The Annals of Karsus contains, we basically set off a giant firework that spelled out ‘look at me, Mystra!’ Trust me. She knows.” Gale explained bitterly.

Fallon reached for Gale’s hand, squeezing it softly. “If you don’t want to go see her, we don’t have to. You don’t owe her anything, Gale.”

“No, this conversation is long overdue. On both sides. It shouldn’t take long.” He sighed.

According to Gale, time worked differently in the Outer Planes, and he should only be gone for a matter of seconds, even if his conversation with Mystra lasted hours for him.

That was almost three hours ago.

Had Mystra manipulated time so however much time passed for her and Gale, also passed here, on the mortal plane of existence? Honestly, with how vindictive she was, Fallon wouldn’t put it past Mystra to do something like that. The goddess had been watching them, so clearly she knew that Gale was romantically involved with someone else. Hells, she’d probably known since the moment Fallon and Gale played in the Weave together in the early days of their journey together. After all, Fallon hadn’t been subtle by imagining kissing Gale. Was she such a bitter scorned ex-lover that she would drag this out, just to fuck with Fallon as well?

Somehow, Fallon wouldn’t put it past her.

“What if she’s done something to him?” Fallon wondered aloud frantically as she began to pace in front of the statue of the goddess she did not serve.

“I highly doubt that,” Astarion mused as he picked at some dirt beneath his fingernails. “Based on what the old codger said, it sounds like she needs something else from Gale since he refused to blow himself up.” The vampire was sitting on the floor of The Stormshore Tabernacle beneath the statue of Selune next to Shadowheart, a position they’d taken after Gale had been gone for five minutes. That was about how long it took for them all to realize that even if Gale thought the conversation shouldn’t take long, Mystra might have other ideas.

They’d been waiting for Gale to come back from the Outer Planes for so long that the sun was setting on Baldur’s Gate. Another half hour went by, and Astarion and Shadowheart had begun looking at each other skeptically. Fallon wouldn’t put it past the two of them to be communicating mind to mind via the tadpole connection. She stopped pacing, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at the cleric and the vampire. “If you want to leave, you can. I’ll be fine.”

If Gale didn’t come back soon, Fallon was not going to be fine, not even close, but if hearing her say that she would be fine was the permission her friends needed to assuage their guilt for wanting to leave, then Fallon would tell them what they wanted to hear. Shadowheart looked at Fallon, a soft look in her eyes. “He knows where to find us, Fallon. I’m sure he’ll come straight home once–”

“I’m not leaving.” Fallon interrupted, her tone short and she glared at her friend for even suggesting it.

“Let it go, Shadowheart. She’ll come back when she’s ready. With or without Gale.” Fallon hated the look on Astarion’s face, because he clearly thought Gale wasn’t coming back. Not tonight, and perhaps not at all. Fallon frowned as she took a seat beneath the statue of the goddess of magic.

“I’m not leaving.” She repeated simply. Astarion raised his hands in defeat, and Shadowheart shook her head, but the two of them left all the same.

Another half hour went by.

What if Astarion was right? What if Gale wasn’t coming back? Had they made a huge mistake by heeding Elminster’s request and coming here? From everything Gale had told Fallon about the archmage, she had no reason to believe that he would willingly lead Gale into a trap. However, there was every reason to believe that Mystra wouldn’t send Elminster to fetch Gale under false pretenses just to get Gale to the Outer Planes.

It was dark outside when the cleric overseeing the temple approached Fallon. “I am departing for the evening, madam. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like, but it will be just you and the gods until your friend returns.” He offered Fallon a gentle smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. A warm feeling flooded Fallon’s body as a soft golden light emitted from the cleric’s palm.

“A blessing, to keep you safe while you wait.”

Somehow Fallon doubted she would be attacked here, but if she were, it wouldn’t be the strangest place the Absolutists ambushed her recently, so she was grateful for the blessing all the same. Fallon nodded in thanks to the cleric as she pulled her knees in towards her chest and rested her head on them as she wrapped her arms around herself as he used his magic to dim the lights. If she was going to be here all night, she might as well try to get some sleep.

Within minutes of the cleric’s departure, there was a flash of purple light and Fallon’s head snapped up. Gale, her sweet, wonderful Gale, came tumbling out of a portal with such force that Fallon couldn’t help but wonder if Mystra had physically shoved him out, or if he’d been leaning against something and she moved it out from under Gale to send him back. At the sight of him, relief flooded her body and Fallon let out a strangled sob as she shot to her feet and ran to embrace Gale.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m here,” Gale said softly into her hair as he held her tightly, running one of his hands over the back of her head as he held her tight with the other. “I’m here.”

Fallon lifted her head to look at Gale, searching his eyes for an explanation. “What the hells happened, Gale? You were gone all day.”

His voice was bitter as he kissed her forehead. “I know, Mystra told me as much before sending me back. I hate that she took out her ire with me on you like that.”

Fallon looked up at Gale, refusing to let him go. “I had a feeling it might not be going well based on how long you were gone.”

“That’s certainly one way of putting it,” Another bitter laugh left Gale’s mouth. He kissed the crown of Fallon’s head and rested his chin atop it as she rested her cheek against his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you she seemed more upset about my relationship with you than she was about our plans for The Crown of Karsus?”

Fallon scoffed and poked his side playfully. “Be serious, Gale.”

“I am being serious, Fallon,” Gale squirmed as she poked a slightly ticklish spot, and it gave him a reason to pull back from her enough to look at Fallon as he continued. “You’ve shown me that love isn’t transactional, or something one has to constantly prove they are worthy of receiving, and because of that, I’ve openly defied Mystra’s direct marching orders. Twice. First by not detonating the orb at Moonrise Towers, and again the moment I decided the Crown of Karsus was not Mystra’s to control. The bruises I left on her ego are far more devastating to her than the thought of my becoming her equal will ever be.”

Fallon reached up and cupped the side of Gale’s face in her hand. “This goes without saying, but I am very proud of you for standing up to her. I don’t think the Gale Dekarios that I pulled out of the broken sigil in a rock would have been able to. You’ve come a long way, Gale.”

Gale smiled as he covered Fallon’s hand with his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” He leaned in and kissed her the way she’d imagined in the Weave the night he’d invited her to play with magic early on in their courtship: slowly at first, then with passion. Fallon sighed into his mouth as she parted her lips for him and slid her tongue against his lower lip, and he responded in kind with a soft moan as his hands gripped her hips. They were moving, and when Fallon felt a hard surface against her backside she broke the kiss to take in her surroundings. Gale had maneuvered their bodies in such a way that Fallon was now leaning against the edge of the altar dedicated to none other than Mystra herself. A sly grin spread on her face as she turned her attention back to Gale, and she was met with an equally devilish loon in her wizard’s eyes.

Fallon did not need to ask or peer into his mind with the connection their tadpoles afforded them to know what Gale wanted, or what he intended to do, and Fallon was suddenly very grateful she’d chosen to wear the deep blue grecian wrap dress that Figaro at Facemaker’s had talked her into purchasing. The idea of potentially being caught shot a thrill through Fallon’s body, but thanks to the dress, at least this way some of her modesty would be preserved if that ended up being the case.

Gale’s mouth moved from her lips to her neck and across her shoulder, and Fallon braced herself on the altar’s edge with her hands as she sighed approvingly. His exploration of her body continued south as Gale pressed his face directly between her breasts to kiss her sternum while one of his hands deftly slipped beneath the fabric to toy with her breast before pushing the fabric to the side just far enough for Gale to capture her exposed flesh in his mouth. Fallon moaned as she felt Gale’s tongue roll over the peaked bud before he bit down gently, then soothed the spot with his tongue once more. There was little urgency in the way Gale moved as his other hand slipped between her legs and he pressed his fingers against her core over the cloth, and Fallon whimpered.

“Gale…time is not really on our side here...” Fallon reminded him. Though if she were being honest, her pleading tone had nothing to do with the potential of getting caught and everything to do with her need for Gale to give her more than just teasing touches.

Gale released her breast from his mouth and looked at her with a look of innocence on his face that did not reach his eyes. No, there was nothing but pure mischief residing in the expressive brown hues she’d come to adore with everything she had. Fallon’s heart flipped in her chest, and her knees wobbled under his gaze. “Whilst I am not worried about any late night intruders, I see where your concerns lie, so allow me to make an offering as a gesture to your comfort.” Gale removed his hand from between her legs and waved it precisely in the direction of the front door of the Stormshore Tabernacle, and Fallon heard the faint clicking sound of the lock falling into place.

“There. Though, I will say, any person capable of breaking through the Arcane Lock I just placed on the door would be rather deserving of the opportunity to witness me worship a goddess far more worthy of my devotion than any other deity in this temple.” Gale sank to his knees, spreading Fallon’s legs to settle between them and parting the folds of her dress to expose her lower half to the elements. Fallon gathered the excess fabric in her hand and rested it on the altar behind her so it pooled at the goddess of magic’s feet, and Fallon had honestly never felt more powerful.

Gale’s hands roamed up her legs and thighs until they reached her undergarments. Without a word, Gale hooked his fingers beneath the hem and tugged them down to her ankles and carefully lifted each of Fallon’s feet so he could remove them. They were soaked with her arousal, and Gale smirked as he took notice before tucking the evidence into the pocket of his robes, but he said nothing.

“I’m surprised Gale, you normally have something to say about the state I’m in when you take off my clothes. No waxing poetic, today?” Fallon teased, unable to recall the last time her normally verbose wizard was so silent.

Gale looked up at her, his smirk still very much present on his face as he reached for her leg to drape it over his shoulder. “Do you mind, Fallon? I’m trying to pray.”

Fallon opened her mouth to make a snappy retort, but the words died in her throat and were replaced with moan; for no sooner had he asked for her silence, she felt Gale’s mouth against her center as he licked a long stripe before closing his mouth around her clit and lavishing it with his tongue. She whispered an expletive and gripped the edge of the altar, her knuckles white with effort as Gale devoured her, his strong hands gripping her thighs to hold her in place.

Fallon’s head fell back as she whimpered with pleasure. She opened her eyes for a moment, and Fallon could have sworn the statue of Mystra was looking down at her with a glare. Whether that was actually the case or not, Fallon stuck her tongue out at the statue in a taunting manner anyway. Knowing Gale loved Fallon enough not only to defy Mystra was enough to make her feel a little smug, but the fact that Gale loved her so deeply that he was willing to commit sins of the flesh with her against an altar devoted to his ex-lover? Mystra could come down from Elysium and smite them where they stood (or kneeled, Gale’s case), and Fallon would die a happy woman.

Gale slid two fingers inside of her and she stifled another moan, raising her hips toward the wizard, urging him to go deeper. Instead, Gale stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to look up at her as she made a noise of disapproval. “My love, why are you holding back?” He asked her before kissing her inner thigh.

“I didn’t want to disturb your prayers.” Fallon goaded him.

Gale raised an eyebrow at his lover and pressed another kiss to her inner thigh as his fingers began slowly moving inside of her again. “That your voice is not echoing off the walls of this temple means I’m not praying hard enough, dearest. I can’t have any of the other deities questioning my devotion to you, now can I?”

With that, Gale went back to work, lapping at her clit with his tongue and his fingers moved inside of her. Fallon moaned, and this time, she did not hold back, her sounds of approval only pushed Gale forward. He began to devour her cunt eagerly, almost desperately until the only word Fallon knew how to say was his name. When Fallon finally came, her vision blurred as she cried out in ecstasy, legs shaking as she clung to the altar beneath her for support. Gale remained dutifully between her legs with his mouth and fingers touching her until the spasms subsided and he was certain she’d been fully satisfied. Then Gale was on his feet and fumbling with his trousers beneath his robes and Fallon watched hungrily as his erection sprang free when Gale pushed his trousers down just far enough to release his cock.

Fallon moved to reach for Gale’s cock, ready to drop to her knees for the wizard and return the favor, but Gale shook his head, bracing her shoulder with the hand not gripping his cock to keep her in place. “As much as I adore the vision of you taking me in your mouth for all the gods to see, I’d much rather them watch me fuck you against this altar, if that’s alright?”

Fallon’s jaw went slack as she stared at Gale, his eyes dark and desperate with need for her, and she couldn’t help but let out a single, short laugh. “That is…more than alright,” Fallon hooked one of her legs around Gale’s hip and tugged him closer, taking his length in her hand and positioning it at her entrance. “Show them all how good you make me feel. How good we look together.”

Gale groaned as he kissed Fallon, pushing inside her quickly with a snap of his hips. Fallon shuddered with pleasure as Gale filled her, and she wrapped her other leg around his hip, pushing him deeper inside of her. Gale leaned down to kiss and bite her neck, moaning as he started thrusting his hips, setting a rough pace. “Gods, Gale, I love how well you fuck me,” Fallon moaned, removing her hands from the edge of the altar to wrap them around Gale’s neck and threaded her fingers through his hair. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

Fallon was balancing precariously on the edge of the altar now, and she held on tightly to Gale to keep from slipping. Mercifully, Gale took notice of this fact and in one swift movement, he lifted her up and away from the altar, the skirt of her dress cascading down around her, and she whined at the loss of him as Gale’s cock slipped out of her as they moved. Fallon thought Gale might be relocating them to the wall next to Mystra’s altar, but instead, Gale carefully sank to his knees and gently laid Fallon on the temple floor.

The cool stone was welcome against the heat of her body, and she released Gale’s hips from the grasp of her legs, settling them on either side of him. Fallon looked up at Gale with a look of pure adoration. “I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” She reminded him, and Gale smiled at her in return.

Her wizard leaned forward and kissed her slowly. When he was ready, he pulled away from their kiss and pressed his forehead against Fallon’s. “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever had the great pleasure of knowing. To know you love me, and how much I love you in return…there will never be a greater feeling in the universe.”

Gale kissed her again as he repositioned himself between her legs and slid back home, his pace slower than before, deeper. This man wasn’t just fucking Fallon in front of an altar dedicated to his ex, he was making love to her: likely in a way he never got to experience with Mystra, if the stories he’d shared were any indication. The love she and Gale shared was the kind of love only mortals would ever understand. It was world-shattering, soul-bonding, life-altering love that many people would never be able to claim they’ve experienced, and Fallon felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have found that type of love in Gale.

The only sounds echoing off the walls of the temple now were those of their collective moans, and Fallon clung to Gale has she could feel her second orgasm in the edges of her body, rising quickly to the surface. “Gale— I’m not going to last much longer.” Fallon pleaded.

“Let go, dearest, I’ve got you.” Gale encouraged as his own movements became more erratic with each thrust.

“I want to go with you. Together.” Fallon requested and all Gale could do was nod as he picked up the pace.

Within moments, Fallon came with Gale’s name on her lips and he followed mere seconds behind her. They rode out the high together, holding each other close as they moved, until each of them had nothing left to give and Gale collapsed on top of her with a deep kiss.

Fallon couldn’t help but giggle into his mouth, smiling about what they’d just done. “Do you think when we go to the House of Hope that Raphael will just go ahead and show us to our room? Because surely we’ve just secured our spots in Avernus when we die for what we’ve just done.”

Gale laughed with her, and he kissed her nose. “Worth it.”

When they finally returned to the suite at The Elfsong Tavern, before anyone could ask about where Gale had been, Astarion took one look at them and made a disgusted sound. “Oh my gods, the two of you had sex in that bloody temple didn’t you?”

Fallon’s jaw slackened and Gale looked at Astarion guilty.

“How did you—“

“Even if you didn’t reek of sex, darling, go look in the mirror.”

Fallon immediately rushed to the closest mirror and gasped when she took in her reflection. She was a mess. Her hair was disheveled, her dress was barely on straight, and the love bites on her neck had begun to bruise. She caught Gale’s eye in the mirror’s reflection and grinned.

“Worth it.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #bg3 fanfic #female tav #gale x tav #bg3 smut #gale smut #baldur's gate 3 fan fiction #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 fan fiction #gale fanfic

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starlessea2 · 8 months

Text

The Dawn Watch (Astarion)

Pairing: Astarion x Reader [Baldur's Gate 3]

Summary: As dawn breaks the morning after the tiefling party, you find a vampire basking in the sun. In the daylight, all of his pretty words start to unravel. (Act 1 spoilers).

A/N After a week of feverishly playing (and completing) BG3, here's my first Astarion writing. Part 1/3 of a WIP mini-series called the Sunlight Chronicles.

Masterlist

Sunlight was warm on your eyes. It coaxed them open and made you blink: once hard, twice fast. Your lids were heavy, yet you could hardly remember closing them in the first place. Neither could you recall dozing off in a pile of leaves.

As you pressed yourself into the ground, the forest floor rustled beneath you. A cacophony of dried foliage and bark, made somewhat comfortable by the mossy overgrowth. It took you a moment to understand your surroundings.

The tiefling party had bustled on into the early hours. It was the first reprieve you’d allowed yourself since being plucked from Baldur’s Gate and thrust into this new adventure. But, perhaps you had overindulged…

There was a fire in your belly still, laden with mead and lingerings of lust, and it had led you here: stark-naked and alone on the outskirts of camp.

A chuckle sounded behind you. “I was starting to wonder whether I’d drank you dry.”

You sprung up to your elbows. Not alone, you suddenly remembered.

Your head whipped around, settling on the figure bathed in the light of the low sun. “But alas, you were just making good on that beauty sleep. Morning, pet.”

Rubbing the bleariness from your eyes, you found Astarion. He was radiant. Rays of dawn had snuck through the trees, dappling between branches onto his pale skin. And his hair... Caught in that glow, it looked like leftover starlight.

The only thing letting him down was his smile. It was utterly charming, as always. But it was more obvious in the daytime; that smile was well-practised.

“Umm, good morning,” you eventually croaked back.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, too nervous to wander over his body. He noticed, of course, and so he paced before you—a small strut, hands on his hips to invite your appraisal.

You looked away. Even in the warmth of the sun, you could feel the man’s contribution to your cheeks. It incited a laugh from him.

“Oh now don’t pretend to be coy, my sweet,” he said. “Not when there was hardly any of that last night.”

You turned your head; any liquid courage you’d gotten from the party had long since worn off. But now sober, Astarion made your heart ache. His falsity was clear as day. He uttered the words you so desperately wanted to hear, but delivered them on the back of a deceitful voice.

A sigh escaped you; perhaps the only time he hadn’t lied was when he’d called you naive.

Awaiting your reply, Astarion became indignant. "What?" he asked. "Disappointed at the lack of morning cuddle? If you ask nicely, perhaps I’ll come back to join—”

"No," you said. "I just..." His eyes watched your every move, red and calculating. You took a moment to collect yourself. "I'm surprised that you stayed at all," you admitted. "Didn't take you for the type."

His hand fell over his chest. "Oh, how you wound me! I try to do the gentlemanly thing, and yet you accuse me and look at me like that."

You cocked a brow. "Like what?"

Astarion let out an exasperated sigh. "Let’s just say it’s easier to know what you're thinking when your eyes are shut.” He made a face, mortifyingly reminiscent of one you’d likely pulled the night before, and your mouth fell ajar.

If you’d been wearing shoes, you would have hurled one at him. But embarassed and barefoot, you instead dug your palms into the soil, more than ready to depart.

Astarion was roused into action. "Oh come on, my dear," he said softly. He sunk to the floor beside you, coaxing you to stay. "All in good fun."

You deliberated for a moment, watching him in your peripheral. There was a smile on his face but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Somewhere in the depths of your mind, a pang of hurt made itself known. You quickly squashed it down, hoping Astarion had not noticed it in his.

Whatever feelings had bubbled over last night were absent this morning, you could just tell. Perhaps he no longer found you interesting now that he'd conquered you. Maybe he'd pursued you just to break your heart, or gods forbid, he'd been put off after sleeping with you—

“It’s just so warm.”

The words left Astarion, quiet as a whisper. But then his eyes widened and his lips formed a taut line—as though they'd never intended to let anything escape at all.

"What?" you started. But with one small glance at the man, you realised; he was talking about the sun.

For a moment, you watched him, basking in the glow like there was no place he'd rather be. You hummed in agreement. “I guess it’s something we all take for granted here.”

He nodded. It became obvious then; he hadn’t stayed for you, but for the sunrise.

“Astarion, I–”

He snapped his head. The look in his eyes cautioned you—told you the two of you weren’t that close. But something behind that almost dared you to try.

Against your better judgement, you proceeded. “You might have already guessed, but I’m no early riser." A chuckle instinctively followed. “I know Lae’zel told us not to question the shifts she allocated, but..." you paused, "who wants to take watch at the crack of dawn? Certainly not me.”

It was silent for a moment—save for the soft lilting of birds and the occasional breeze. Yet even then, the morning dawned so quiet that your breaths felt loud.

It took a few seconds for Astarion to reanimate, but when he did, it was with a smile. “Oh, my dear... If you’re struggling that badly, you could’ve just said." He sat up, readjusting to meet you straight on. “It’s not a bother swapping with you—if the night shift is more to your taste.”

Your heart felt warm. Truthfully, you liked the dawn watch, but you had a feeling it would be better appreciated by him. “That would be wonderful, thank you."

You had an inkling that Astarion recognised your ploy, but but if did, he wasn’t making a show of it. His hand wove its way into yours, and pressed it into forest bed. “My pleasure," he said. Then he leaned forward with a grin.

You anticipated a kiss, but he stopped before your neck, tracing the bloody bruise he'd bestowed with his lips—worrying last night's sore between his teeth. “It's the least I can do...”

As he mumbled against your skin, a shiver sparked through your shared connection.

“I’ll be more gentle next time." His breath fanned hot over your ear. “Both ways.”

You let out a gasp. "It's okay, we don’t have to—” The words ejected from you, all flustered and not at all how you pictured them.

Astarion offered a smirk in return, but it was accompanied by an expression you now recognised.

He thought you naive.

“Precious,” he said beneath his breath, before returning your crumpled dress to you. “Now come. We best not keep the others waiting.”

And so you followed his lead and quickly dressed: smoothing your hair and attempting to rid your cheeks of their flush.

If anyone asked, you'd say you were sun-kissed.

#astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x you #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #dnd

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write-and-wander · 2 months

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That Night

Astarion x Female Tav/Reader Description: A slowed-down, in-depth retelling of the aftermath of the Cazador fight; looking deeper into the thoughts and feelings of Astarion and his lover. Warnings: Violence and trauma mentions

She loved him.

That was all she knew. That was all she could think of, in this moment.

He had finally conquered his demons- no, his own hell. It was over, now, and the story could continue however he wanted it to. And instead of jumping head-first into any direction, he looked to her for guidance. Because despite the past that drove him to this point, the only future he cared about was one she would be a part of.

So he looks to her, bloodied Cazador at his feet, fate-sealing dagger in hand, heart laid out in a state of vulnerability completely unknown, and asks her what to do.

She looks back at him, her own hands bloodied from the exhausting battle they had just endured, and knows that she loves him. She loves him. Just as he is. She wouldn’t wish him any other way.

She can see the fear, yes. The drive for power, and revenge, but even more than that; the ecstasy of being able to take the one thing Cazador wants after he had taken so, so much from Astarion- the perfect act of justice.

And she asks him only to take it from Cazador- she asks him not to take it for himself. She asks him to keep his freedom, rather than submit himself to the shackles of madness that unprecedented power would demand.

And his open, bleeding heart is suddenly soft.

Though he may not get to take and keep, he is more than happy to take and watch evil lose.

So he does.

With shaking body and ragged breath, he drives the dagger into Cazador’s chest as a mortician’s hammer drives nails into a coffin; sealing death. The death of Cazador, the purest form of evil he has ever known. The death of who he could have been, in all the corrupt power he could have basked in. The death of life as he once knew it, defined only by the black and white chess game between power and powerless. He stabs straight through Cazador’s heart, and again, and again, and again; a desperate frenzy that will never quite feel like enough, until he is forced to stop.

His body fails him in its divine relief. Decades of pain, fear, and torture are at last released with his final act. He will never know Cazador’s pain again. His will never have to run from the monster that chases him again. He will never be a toy or a lure again. He is free, and he won, and he is still, somehow, despite everything, in tact. Inexplicable tension is finally let go completely. He collapses to his knees, wails ripping through his chest and echoing against the stone cold walls that surround him.

She watches as her very heart weeps in a grief she could never even begin to comprehend. The heart that beats in her chest seems to twist in its own turmoil, and a sympathetic hand- or perhaps the hand of a friend desperate to grip something else in an attempt to maintain their own balance- finds her shoulder. Her own tears stream down her face, as do the tears of the friends who helped them make it here.

Astarion’s “siblings-” not by blood, but certainly by bond- rush over to him, their faces contorted in concern combined with utter disbelief.

Her mouth opens for a moment; she wants to ask them to stop, to give her heart space to breathe, to please, gods, don’t touch him, but the words stick in her throat. She’s too choked up to speak, but gratitude sinks in as she realizes that this is their moment of blessed freedom, too. They shared in their pain together- they deserve to share in their relief together, too.

He steels himself as they approach, and she sees Astarion the Upper City Magistrate show himself as the suddenly gentler elf seamlessly steps into a place of leadership. The others look to him in a sudden cry for a compass- they are free, but they are left without direction; and he so easily gifts it to them. He gives them direction, and offers what little encouragement he can to the now-freed slaves. Thousands of spawn are suddenly given a second chance, now that the pale elf had changed their fates- a thankless act that outweighs his sins tenfold.

It isn’t until they leave to fulfill their last charge that he returns to his lover. He hesitantly takes her hands in his, and she grasps them with the same gentleness in confidence. He had done it. It was over.

There’s an instinct in her to hug him; to enfold herself around him in an act of love, and yet, she knows her beloved vampire better than that. He will come and effortlessly wrap himself in all that she is when he is ready. Instead, she gently presses kisses onto his bloodied hands.

He looks to the companions that now stand beside her- his friends, who have so selflessly fought for this moment despite his outward reluctance to fight for them.

Though he wouldn’t be able to say it out loud until years later, he loves them. That is what he feels in this moment, in its purest form. Though it is seamlessly woven into waves of gratitude and grief, he feels love. For all of them. For her.

Later that night, after the sun goes down and most of the others had retired to their tents, Astarion does, indeed, find himself in his lover’s tent. Later still, after a long and tear-filled conversation periodically interrupted with near-silent fits of weeping, Astarion buries himself into his lover’s arms. He cries until trance overtakes him.

And all through that night, she holds him.

And the sun rises. And a new day comes. And they will find out all it holds, together.

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mistystepmoonbeam · 2 months

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Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3: Chapter 1

Plot: You’ve been reincarnated. It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav. You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less. But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.

Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it. You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?

There is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This is very self-indulgent so there will by a lot of Gale and Astarion.

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

“I’m Tav.”

He’s a tiefling, you recall. Tall and bulky with curled horns. The dark gray skin tells you he’s descended from Mephistopheles, and his simple leather gear tells you he’s a barbarian. Huh. Yeah, that makes sense, he’s Tav, the hero of the game! Or…the villain? Your head pounds as memories flood back to you—tieflings, bards, goblins, vampires—you, sitting at a computer debating which choice would garner you the most favour with your companions in…

“Baldur’s Gate,” you mumble. You slap a hand over your mouth, staying on your knees as you blink at the tiefling. At Tav. He arches his brows and kneels beside you, offering you a small vial of red liquid.

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate, too?” he asks. “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Without much thought you take the already opened vial from him and swallow it down in one small gulp. With a deep breath the pounding in your head subsides and you can think a little clearer. Maybe not clear enough to fully comprehend that you’re currently in a video game, or that there’s a small wriggling behind your left eye which means…

More images come to you, a mind flayer holding a worm with too many teeth to your eye, a githyanki—Lae’zel—pointing a sword at you, and then falling from the ship. The nautiloid. Tav’s memories of the ship.

Tav winces as the visions fade. “Guess you got one of those, too.”

A chill runs down your spine, through each and every bone of your body until the squirming thing behind your eye stops movement all together.

“I uh…” You look around at the crash area, taking in the rocks and splotches of fire dotting the land on one side and water on your left, until you meet the gaze of a raven-haired half-elf.

“This one doesn’t seem to be all there,” she says. Her voice is as smooth and condescending as you remember, and you find it endearing despite the insult.

“Give them a moment,” Tav responds over his shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yes, especially because this is most definitely a dream. A very vivid, painful, exciting, insane dream.

“What’s your name?”

You fear all you can do is blink. You tell them your name, voice as shaky as your body. There’s a tremble in your hands that you can’t control, even with a hard grip on the now empty vial. “And thank you…for the potion.”

Tav lifts, holding a large sharp-nailed hand out to you. “Can you stand?”

You nod, taking his hand and letting him lift you to your feet. You let your hand drop to dust off your clothes, nothing that you remember wearing. The last thing you recall was going to bed in a tank top and shorts but you’re now wearing a dark blue overcoat atop loose fitting pants and a fitted shirt. The borders of the coat are stitched with gold swirls, and based on the softness of everything you wear it has to be expensive. Somehow, after everything (whatever the Hells that involved) you are quite clean. Not to mention the bag that hangs at your hip beneath your coat is quite heavy, and another bag that wraps around your waist and sits at your back has the contents clinking together when you move.

You look like a caster of some kind, but you can’t tell which. You can’t feel anything that would indicate your abilities, but some cold sensation at the back of your mind tells you you can do something. Like another limb sits in your mind, waiting to be moved.

“We don’t have time for stragglers,” Shadowheart says.

“Yet I helped you,” Tav counters. There’s a playfulness to his tone that doesn’t match his furrowed brow.

Shadowheart concedes. “Fair enough. You’re welcome to join us in our search for a healer.”

You nod. Yes, a healer! They’ll be able to—pain strikes your temples as another memory clouds your mind.

A truck careening at you, horn blaring—a sharp hit of adrenaline and then…here.

“Oh my God I’ve been isekaied.” Your revelation earns you quizzical looks from Tav and Shadowheart. Reincarnated. Just like those cheesy but addicting books about a girl being reincarnated as a villainess in some cheesy addicting romance novel. You press your hands to your face, feeling familiar features but still wary. “Quick, what do I look like?”

“A lunatic,” Shadowheart answers.

Tav hesitates, but describes you. You. Not some other face, not a character you recall from the game but you. Regular human you. You sigh, relief flooding over you.

“As…interesting as this conversation is, we should get moving,” Tav says.

“Agreed.” Shadowheart doesn’t move until Tav heads to the only direction you can go, near part of the crashed ship.

“We need to find Lae’zel,” Tav adds.

“Less agreeable,” Shadowheart says. “She’s probably long gone by now, if not dead.”

“Well we should still keep an eye out.”

You follow the two into the still burning wreckage where they suddenly stop and draw their weapons—Tav a large axe, and Shadowheart her mace and shield.

“Intellect devourers,” you conclude. Three sit at the far end of the ship, scurrying towards you at a frightening speed. With one slash of his axe Tav takes out two of them before they can get close to you, and Shadowheart smacks the other one down. All defeated in what? Three seconds?

The three brains bleed out and flop to their sides, clawed limbs twitching.

“Vile creatures,” Tav says, holstering his axe. You expect the two to keep moving and check the nearby bodies for gold and supplies, just as you do in the game, but they don’t. They walk right past the dead man without rifling through his pockets and as you step by you feel your stomach lurch. To see a bloody disfigured body in reality felt very different from the game. The vacant eyes staring upward, pieces of flesh torn from his stomach…It isn’t until a hand covers your eyes and directs you forward do you realize you’d stopped.

“Just keep moving,” Tav says, keeping his hand by the side of your head so you can’t see the body. When his hand falls you keep your eyes on his swinging tail, and follow after him as he turns and moves into the sun.

Barrels and a broken down cart let you know what’s coming next—who’s coming next.

Your excitement strikes you then, still shaky and confused but awake. You’re in Baldur’s Gate 3, with Tav and Shadowheart, and hopefully all the others.

Your eyes scan the water nearby, debris scattered everywhere until you spot a dagger on the dock. Tav and Shadowheart watch you dart over and pick it up.

“I thought you would be one to attack with words, not knives,” Shadowheart says coolly.

You stash the dagger in a boot, smiling at Shadowheart. Gods. She was pretty as pixels but seeing her in the flesh, she was something else. “Well, words aren’t always the best weapons.”

“Can I get some help?”

You recognize the voice without needing to see the speaker. Astarion is just up the hill waiting to ambush Tav and…kill him depending on how he answers.

Based on how Tav darted ahead at the sound of someone in trouble (albeit fake trouble) you figured it wouldn’t turn out too terribly. So they had skipped over robbing the dead, and didn’t explore every corner of the map looking for treasure chests…that didn’t mean things would be different with each companion intro, right? There’s a plot here, and it has to be followed to a certain degree…right? There were no screen pop ups to decide dialogue and you all appeared to have free will, which was good.

Right?

Your thoughts did little to comfort you as you climbed the hill to find Astarion already pointing his blade at Tav who was apparently perceptive enough to dodge rolling around in the ground with the vampire. You stopped next to Shadowheart, at ease just watching the situation unfold.

Both men twitch and writhe as their parasites connect. When their visions fade Astarion questions it, and Tav answers honestly about being in the mind flayer ship and what the worms can do.

You study Astarion’s face as he realizes that he’s somewhat free, but there’s a time limit to the incubation period. Tav offers for him to join your trio, and just like you remember, he agrees.

“Splendid,” Astarion says. “Lead on.”

At that the vampire meets your eyes. Icicles dance up your spine until they pierce the back of your head, making you wince and hold a hand against the spot.

You grunt at the sudden pain, the sound quiet but drawing attention all the same. You wave the eyes away from you with your free hand. “Sorry. Head still hurts a bit from…having a tadpole put inside it.”

Nobody questions that, though you know it was something else. Every time your eyes even flit in Astarion’s direction you can feel a push at the back of your head, that phantom limb clenching as if trying to stretch and release itself. You wish you could say it was the tadpole, but it feels nothing like when you connected with Tav.

“Well let’s just try to keep our worms separate,” Astarion says, seemingly at you. “I don’t need to see what’s in your head anymore than you do mine.”

His eyes linger a moment on Tav. You nod your agreement though he isn’t looking at you now.

“I saw some footprints along another path,” Tav announces. “There could be other survivors.”

There doesn’t seem to be any question as to who is in charge. Shadowheart insists on searching for a healer but with a quick convincing from Tav you’re all headed towards a strange looking purple sigil.

“Looks unstable,” Shadowheart says.

“Best left alone,” Tav agrees. It was just like a friend's first play through that thought the sigil would kill them, so they never had Gale join their party. It wasn’t a totally unfounded theory—swirling, sparking voids did seem like something that shouldn’t be touched but everything in this world had a purpose. Anything out of place or, well, glowing, was important to the story.

But then the group is walking toward the bodies of three goblins discussing supplies.

They’ll steal from goblins but not humans? Seems odd but maybe you’re the weird one being so willing to pillage the dead, no matter their race. You frown, looking back at the sigil and knowing who is inside. “You sure you don’t want to see why it’s like that?”

Astarion is observing his nails while Tav loots the goblin bodies. Shadowheart kicks one of the bodies out of her way once fully plundered and looks back at you. “Be my guest. But if you get sucked in don’t expect me to come looking for you.”

“I’ll come look for you,” Tav states with a cheeky grin, hands inside a dead goblins pockets. It makes you smile back, so…kind and disarming. You recall barbarians didn’t have high charisma, but Tav seemed to have it in spades. Or perhaps your recent head injury was clouding your judgement—after all your reaction to being reincarnated, to being dead, was quite tame.

“Ah, a true hero.” Astarion looks between you and Tav, eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn your attention back to the sigil, taking a small step towards it when an arm pops out.

“A hand?” a voice calls. “Anybody?”

You slap the waxing hand immediately without a thought.

“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” Gale says. “A helping hand please?”

“Oh, right!” You quickly take his hand in yours and tug to no avail.

“Keep trying!”

You pull harder, wondering if you were going to end up holding a severed arm in your hand as the sigil sparks brighter and buzzes with energy. You choose to ignore those thoughts and keep trying to free the wizard.

With one final pull the person connected to the arm comes tumbling out of the sigil. If it had been Tav to pull Gale free you’re certain it would have been a smooth experience, and he would have stepped back and dodged getting shoved to the ground by the sudden lack of resistance. But it wasn’t Tav, it was you, and instead of dodging the wizard your feet tangled with each other and you both went down.

The wind is knocked from your lungs with Gale atop you, his forehead connecting with your sternum and leaving you gasping for air. Strands of his hair fall onto your lips, soft and smelling of something spicy while his left arm is wrapped around your middle, the other braced against the ground. You realize he’d been trying to protect you on the way down, but wasn’t quick enough to cover the back of your head, which now throbs from the fresh battering.

“Ouch,” you croak, voice barely making it out of your throat. Footsteps approach until Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion are hovering over you, each with a small smile. Well…Astarion’s is more of a smirk…

Gale pushes himself off of you and before he can say anything Tav has his hands beneath your underarms and is pulling you up. His hands slide to your back until you’re steady enough to stand on your own and thank him, rubbing at the back of your head again.

Throbbing is better than stabbing, you suppose.

“Apologies,” Gale says as he smooths his hair back, “I’m usually much better at this.”

You continue to rub the back of your head as he and Tav exchange dialogue, much of it going in one ear and out the other as you focus on the pain radiating in your skull. You squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall to your sides, giving in to the fact you can’t rub away whatever sensation is there.

“And you my friend.” Gale is in front of you, drawing your gaze to meet his. “I am truly sorry for landing on you, but extremely grateful for the help.”

You can’t stop your smile at him anymore than you could with Tav. “Happy to help.”

His eyes stay on you a moment longer than appropriate, but when they drape down your body you think he’s almost sizing you up. For a fight, or romance, or maybe to steal your coat you aren’t sure.

You look to Tav for direction, waiting for the leader to…well, lead. Lae’zel should be next, but that’s when you notice you have an extra member. With you there it makes five travellers, but nobody has been sent to camp yet. Wherever that is. While you’d like a moment to sit and organize your thoughts, the idea of heading somewhere on your own was terrifying.

“I hear voices over that ridge,” Astarion announces. Everyone turns towards where he’s looking, just a few feet ahead where the path winds up and you know you’ll find two tieflings looking at Lae’zel. But you can’t hear them yet.

“Let’s check it out.” Tav is already moving before anyone can object. And like ducklings you follow him with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope

#reborn in baldur's gate 3 with no memory and plenty of gold #x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #gale dekarios x reader #astarion x reader

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bunnidarling · 5 months

Text

I commissioned @sbeep to redraw my boys' meet cute. I wanted it to look more intimate and have the vibe of "Well mark me down as horny AND scared" and she delivered

"So Averyll when did you first fall for Astarion?"

"When he tackled me to the ground, held a knife to my throat, and told me what to do."

Read about their adventures here:

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have-a-treato · 7 months

Text

These Hands

Gale x gn!reader, Gale x gn!Tav

Content/Tags: Soft, slow, NSFW, service top Tav/reader, oral, penetration, short, one-shot

Context: Between the ending of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, on the road to Baldur's Gate. Light spoilers for the end of Act 2, Gales overall story and a non-spoilery reference to the Act 2 romance scene.

Word count: 2.3k

“You should be with me in this… Let me-“ With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

Fic List AO3

After the battle with Ketheric Thorm the group has finally made its way on the road to Baldur’s Gate. The days have been long, and with many still recovering from the battle, everyone has decided to take a well-earned day of rest before continuing the last leg of the journey to the city.

Gale had unsurprisingly and generously produced a cozy space for you both to laze the day away in. His space is now closer to a library than a tent, with bookshelves lining a spun illusion of a tower room, plush carpets laid out on every inch of the floor, and a quiet fire burning in a hearth on one wall.

You grinned at him when first stepping inside, “Your home? In Waterdeep?” You teased him.

“I didn’t show you before, so now felt as good a time as any. Nothing in all the realms is more relaxing than my library,” he said with a decidedly pretentious tone.

With a knowing grin, you held up your hands in acquiescence and headed for the pile of pillows tucked between two of the bookshelves. Who were you to argue with a wizard about his tower?

Now, you’ve stirred from a long nap nestled into Gale’s side on the pillows as he reads a large tome picked up from somewhere on the journey. Probably the Sharran temple.

“Mmm… this was a great idea, I must admit.” You mumble into his shoulder as you wake.

Gale winds his arm around your hip, tucking you even closer. “That implies you had doubts about our afternoon of languor, and I must say I’m a bit offended. I have great ideas. Particularly when it comes to you.”

You let out a groggy snort as you stretch your free arm across his chest, continuing your ascent back to the waking world.

He turns his head away from his book to nuzzle your hair, “Go back to sleep,” he mumbles into your scalp. “You took some hard hits during the battle with Thorm. Or are you hungry? I can whip up the stew you like. Or could I interest you in a book from my vast collection? I have one in mind I think you’ll find fascinating. Or-“

You cut him off when you start quietly chuckling into his shoulder. This man nearly met his own end and yet he seeks to serve you.

“I’ll advise you it is unwise to laugh at a man’s stew.” He says with a grin.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, a soft smile on your lips, and wiggle out of his hold to straddle his middle. You gently remove that hefty tome of his and set it aside. Your hand shifts up his chest to lightly, absently trace the lines of his orb sigil along his neck.

“I only realized that I’d like to do something for you,” you say softly.

Gale’s grin falters momentarily, “I could not ask more of you, who have already given me everything.”

Your heart soars at his words, but you know Gale. You know just how deserving he is of everything you have to offer, yet he would not ask for it. He would not ask for anything for fear of not being worthy of it, despite all you’ve shared together. He must be shown how deserving he is, you decide. Slowly, perhaps he will come to see that he can receive the same love and care that he graces you with.

His hands reach for you after you’ve paused too long in your contemplating, but you catch his wrists. Closing your eyes, you plant a soft kiss at his right wrist, listening to his small, somewhat awed sigh at the touch. Your plan takes form in your mind, and you drop his left hand to begin work on his right. Beginning at his wrist, your thumbs move in small circles, massaging the muscle and small joints. As you move up toward to his elbow and back down to the wrist, squeezing lightly to continue massaging, Gale lets out another sigh. Your lips twitch at his easily coaxed reactions. He clearly enjoys this attention - why not let himself ask for more? You move to his hand, methodically rubbing down the length of each finger. You get a little lost in your task, enjoying the feel of his skin as you finish with the right and move to the left. Gale’s life as a prodigy shows in his hands. Not soft, as one might imagine for a wizard, but slightly rough and dry from the constant turning of pages, of wielding a staff, of pulling from the Weave. These hands have worshiped your skin, have clinched victories, have created wonders. They are precious. Glancing up at him, he has a bemused expression but attempts to hide it with that ever-present grin. You bring both hands up to your lips to kiss his knuckles. A few small scars decorate the tops of his hands, and you take a moment to give each one their own attentions.

“Hmm…” you sigh with your lips brushing over his fingers. “These hands have done so much.”

“These hands can do more,” he says with a lift of his brows.

You chuckle, giving an index finger a little nip. “Oh yes, I’m acquainted with their skills.” You eye him mischievously, licking the tip of that same finger with your tongue. A tease. “I would know what these hands desire.”

“They want for nothing where you are concerned. How can they grant your desires? Now, there is the better question.” He replies.

Not good enough. You hold his gaze again, trying to let him see your openness, your earnestness to give him something of yourself that he deserves. Something he didn’t have to earn by being anything other than himself. You slide your tongue around that finger, bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly from knuckle to tip.

“Nothing?” You whisper, “Nothing at all?”

His eyes are locked with yours, and you sense him tense beneath you slightly. The jovial mask of Gale of Waterdeep slips a little; in his eyes you see that yearning you suspected was there all along. They search your face, looking for deception, for conditional affection, perhaps even outright lies. But they will find none, and you will prove it to him over and over and over again. You press and encouraging kiss to his palms, catching the movement of his throat as he swallows nervously.

“You.” He says lowly. “Always you.”

Reverently placing his hands down, you lean in, taking his face between your palms. “You have me. Wholly.” You breathe onto his lips. The kiss is a brush of skin at first, then confident as he attempts to take the lead, dancing that talented tongue with yours to drive you mad. You nip at his lower lip to take back control, slowing the pace. Softly sucking on his lip as you pull back, you give him your eyes full of that openness to reassure him, as your hands move lower.

Slowly you release the buckle of his tunic, pushing the fabric up over his torso, planting treasuring kisses along his chest as you head down to his trousers. His hands make a gentle protest in your hair, but you place them back at his sides, a quiet question in your eyes as you continue. You can see the uncertainty in his gaze, the hesitation to bask in your attention, and the mix of excitement and curiosity for what you will do next. Which will win out?

He gives a soft, tentative smile as your signal to continue. You unfasten the ties for his trousers with an easy smile, tugging them down just enough, and do the same for his underwear. The moment is too precious to interrupt with disrobing completely. You are singularly focused on showing this man, in some small way, just how much you care for him.

His cock bobs, half-hard, as you reveal it. You take him in hand, pausing again with that question in your eyes as you bend down. His chest rises and falls in anticipation as he gives you a slight nod, reaching out a hand to thread through your hair loosely. Starting at the base, you give him a long, thorough lick, keeping his gaze all the while. The throaty noise Gale releases in response is delicious in your ears – you want more. His cock stiffens fully in your hand now, and you put your lips around the tip, circling and sucking. The hand in your hair twitches. More. You hear a hiss as you swallow him fully, pulling back up to flick your tongue at the sensitive underside of his head, then pushing back down, sucking hard this time. That hiss turns into a huff as your pace quickens, squeezing the base of him with your fingers. More. You want even more. Even though this is about Gale, you might be a little selfish. You want to see the faces he’s making, how his chest is heaving, how his arms are flexing to restrain himself, the shape his mouth makes with each sound. With a few last licks and sucks, you pull off, too eager to make those visions a reality. You sit up and lick your lips, watching his face as he pants and reaches for you.

You shake your head, backing off to impatiently remove your underthings. Crawling back to straddle him, you take that hand that reached out up to your mouth to kiss his wrist. You position yourself and begin to sink down slowly, almost teasingly onto his cock. His breath hitches with each rise and fall of your hips as you take him inside you. This - this is what you wanted. His rapturous expression as he fits inside you, as you squeeze him, as you bite the meat of his thumb in your own ecstasy. He is yours, and you will worship him as he deserves. Fully seated, you begin to slowly rock your hips. This isn’t a race, isn’t lewd, isn’t about your pleasure. It is intimate, and full of your will to prove him worthy of you, worthy of his own life. You kiss each knuckle of his fingers as you continue that slow, sensual rocking. His eyes are heavy-lidded, jaw slack, chest rising and falling with his panting breath as he takes in the sight of you. You are both mostly clothed, and yet it is somehow all the more passionate for it.

“I…”, he breathes, then clears his throat nervously. “I won’t last much longer with you like this.”

“Then let go,” you say softly. “This isn’t about me.”

His expression remains conflicted, flitting between pleasure and confusion of your focused attention. “You should be with me in this… Let me-“

With one last kiss to his palm, you bring his hand to your chest, resting just over your heart. “I’m already here with you.” Your hips still with your next words, “I love you. Let me show you.”

His breath shudders as your hips restart their languid rhythm. Your hand rests over his on your chest, his other hand grasping your hip as you rock, lift up slightly, and sink back down into another rocking motion. All slow, liquid movements. Your gazes are locked, your chests lifting with the same breaths, your mouths softly open with the same tender sounds of desire. The hand at your hip squeezes, and you feel his hips start to meet yours in kind. A long groan escapes him as he quickly thrusts up into you.

“Yes,” you breathe. You lean forward as his eyes fall shut, taking in his face as he comes. His cheeks flush, his brows furrow, his breath rushes out in quick pants; then all slows and relaxes into bliss. Your rhythm doesn’t stop, riding him through the high and leading him back down again. The light sheen of sweat on his brow earns a kiss from you, and you rest your head there, patiently waiting for him to return to you. His breath slows, and his eyes blink open sluggishly. That soft, wicked grin of his returns, but you notice the lingering astonishment behind his eyes, as if he still can’t quite believe you’re real despite everything.

“For once I think I’ve rendered you speechless.”

A light chuckle escapes him as he catches his breath, “Very nearly.” He swallows, “That was…”

You interrupt his search for words with a quiet kiss. You’d rather leave the moment as it is. It needs no description, only the understanding that you did it for him because you love him. You pull away with a tender caress of his cheek, sitting back and pulling his tunic back down, his trousers back up as you lift off of him. You sense him watching you, still likely contemplating if you are amongst the illusions of this room. Quietly you re-dress in your underthings and bestow more kisses on his hands as you rejoin him among the pillows on your knees. “I recall mention of stew, but what about a cup of tea first?”

“That sounds lovely.” He says with a smile. Before he can even twitch a muscle, you’ve lifted up again and are strolling toward the very real small table near the hearth housing a teapot with ready-made tea the Wizard of Waterdeep keeps magically warmed with an environmental spell. In a few moments, you’re striding back with two cups, warmed to the perfect temperature and ready to sip. You place Gale’s cup atop the tome he was perusing earlier, earning you a slightly scandalized look as he swipes the cup up, taking a sip. You chuckle to yourself as you re-take your place at his side on the pillows. As he sets his cup down – not on a book this time – you snatch his hands again.

Placing one at your cheek and one to your lips you whisper, “I can’t get enough of these hands.”

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

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astarionslittletreat · 4 months

Text

Eat You Alive

Gortash x female Durge/Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 1k

Tags: smut, sex, piv sex, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, biting, bondage, domination, threats of violence, threats of murder, sadism, masochism, unhealthy relationship, established relationship, dub-con, unethical use of magic, cock warming, forced orgasm

Author's Note: This is not meant to depict how a relationship should function in any way. Neither character posses any redeeming qualities or are meant to be idolized. This is a work of indulgent fiction. Please read the tags before proceeding.

Summary: She's returned to him, his Bhaalspawn. After vanishing from him without a trace, he's got her exactly where he wants her. Tied up and waiting for him with murderous lust.

Wrists and ankles shackled by purple translucent magic, the Bhaalspawn strains against the spell holding her down. Muscles tensing, she flexes her arms, tries to kick her spread legs but to no avail. She cannot break free. It’s not explicitly uncomfortable. She’s naked, true, exposed to the dark room and her surroundings, but the silk sheets she retrained on have been freshly laundered. The spell curling around her extremities is warm and radiates the feeling of pure magic that sends shivers down her spine as she tries to pull away. She’s of two minds at the moment. The Dark Urge that usually slumbers like a dragon in the back of her mind is wide awake–demanding to be freed. Ordering that they be let go this instant and repaid in blood and flesh and bone. The other part of her mind, her true self, her weak self, nearly lost. Drowning in the madness of her carnality. Aching, wanting, dripping for her lover to touch her. To unburden her of her desires–every single last one of them.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that–” Lord Enver Gortash’s dark eyes grow hungry as he watches his Bhaalspwan arch her back in a futile attempt to break free. “Spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.” He purrs. Taunting her until she’s so filled with rage, Enver can feel it radiating off her bare skin. “Look at me.” It’s a command tinged with magic, and the Bhaal babe meets his gaze. For the briefest–shortest moment her eyes go soft. It’s so quick, he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring directly at her because it instantly vanishes. Consumed by the fire burning through her veins. Her murderous rampage simmering in the pit of her stomach. Enver’s cock throbs at the sight of his dark and demented love.

Her eyes dart back and forth across his bedchambers. A feral animal caught in a trap. Searching for a way to get out. To get to him. Restrained as she is, the Bhaalspawn flinches as Enver traces the scars on the inside of her thighs with his fingertips. Some he recognizes, some are new, requiring him to catalog her body once more. She trembles at his touch with a rage and bloodlust that makes Enver grow hard. His cock swells as he palms himself. Stroking just enough to take the edge off as he lowers himself to the bed. Drawn in by her tender fury he moves to worship his lover. To take her into his mouth and press his lips against every new scar she acquired without him by her side.

A sinful mix of Infernal–and possibly Abyssal, if Enver heard correctly, falls from the lips of the Bhaalspawn. Spit like venom. Sung like hymns. “That’s right my love,” Enver praises the words he doesn’t fully understand, but knows all the same. He knows exactly what his love needs before biting down, hard. Blood blooms over Enver’s tongue and the Dark Urge moans in delight.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” She threatens beautifully. Spitting and hissing in the common tongue for Ever to understand.

He chuckles, “I sincerely hope so, my love.” He had thought himself dead once already. He certainly hadn’t been alive these past few months at the very least. Not when she had disappeared. Gone, without word. Without trace. Without any explanation that was due to him. Of course, he knows now what happened, but the bitter sting of life without what made Enver whole had scarred him. Changed him. A piece of himself vanished when his love disappeared. Abandoning their well-laid plans, the city–him. The fury and indignity at being left behind after so long never quite left. Orin’s death helped, true, but this– this is so much sweeter.

“I’m going to break every bone in your worthless body before I filet you alive!” Spit coats her lips as the Dark Urge screams, and her body fails in painful delight. More–she wants more. She needs Enver now instead of him taking his sweet fucking time.

Evner doesn’t spare her the prep time. She doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it. Between her scarred and bleeding thighs, Enver presses the head of his cock to her entrance before pressing in in one long stroke. Settling himself until he’s fully seated inside his love. Oh how he’s fucking missed this. Her mewling gasps of his name. The drool sliding past her lips. The way she tightens, squeezing him as he presses his thumb to her clit. Circling and toying with her. Forcing her into a breakneck speed while he sits there. He spits on her clit for good measure. There will be time for pain later. Right now, the only thing he desires is to feel the Bhaalspawn breaking apart around him.

“Wait!” Panic. “Stop, I can’t–”

“You’re going to fucking come, now.”

Another command, bold but dangerously quiet. Tinged with venom and love. She doesn’t need a spell to obey this time. His familiar heavy weight, his clever hands working her body better than her own self knew how. It was inescapable. Her release surges through her body as she clamps down hard. Her body strains against the magic holding her down, her muscles taught and aching as she tumbles recklessly through the pleasure forced upon her. It hurts. It hurts and she likes that it hurts. That it’s messy and quick. That her legs are weak and she can feel wetness seeping out of her cunt where Enver is still seated and hard. She gasps. Gulping down air as she falls from her high. Her mind floats. The Dark Urge temporarily calmed like a wild beast to music.

Enver allows her a few seconds respite. She had earned that much at least. But the night was young, and he still missed his deadly little Bhaalspawn. He waited until her gasping died down just a bit before he began to circle and toy with her now oversensitive clit. “Another, my pet.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gale 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #enver gortash #lord enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #gortash x durge #gortash x dark urge #the dark urge #gortash smut #enver gortash x durge #prompt request #astarionslittletreat

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commandershepardsparadise · 7 months

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PLEASE Can somebody write some Bg3 characters x Fat reader???

I'm so lonely and starved I need fan fiction to function properly HAAHAHAH

Literally any companion is most welcomed especially Halsin (him worshipping you and calling your insecure self "nature's gift???") Gale,wyll....

Please I'm begging you talented writers of tumblr!!!

Or If you know any fic of the sort please tell me!!!

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #wyll x tav #gale x tav #wyll x reader #bg3 reader insert #chubby reader #bg3 x chubby reader #fat reader #plus size reader

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tragedybunny · 8 months

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Sated - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has gone too long without blood and you're determined to make sure he's fed.

Astarion tries, but not everyday is a good day, and some days he’s still snappish and lashes out. The rest of your group has learned not to take it personally, in fact now that Karlach can touch people, she’s developed a nice trick of just suddenly hugging him when he’s a pain. Usually either indignant silence or grumbling compliance follows. “Behave yourself Fangs, or I’ll do it again,” the Tiefling grins at him during whatever fussing he spouts after. He’s grown fond of her, you can tell, even if he can’t yet. In a way he’s fond of them all, but Karlach’s open, kind nature has given them a bit of a sibling-like bond. Watching them interact always brings a smile to you, he needs more of that in his life, people who care for him genuinely.

Today was not the best, but you shrug it off as concern overrides all else. He’s a little paler than usual and a little slower. There wasn't much out there among the shadow curse for him to feed off. Before you never had to question how much blood he needed to survive or where it would come from. But as you leave the formerly cursed land behind, you can tell he’s struggling. And yet, he hasn’t asked you about it. The one he’s supposed to trust more than anyone else. You’ve fed him plenty of times before, you would think he’d have come to you by now. Mentally, you scold yourself as you feel creeping insecurity. There has to be a reason for it, and now isn’t the time for selfish suspicion.

That night, as everyone settles themselves around a fire, contemplating what the road to Baldur's Gate holds, you find him seated at the edge of the flickering light, as far away as he can get without being in the shadows. Could he be worried he might find himself tempted if he’s too close to everyone? This can’t continue, you tell yourself, not only for the sake of his suffering, but you can’t be sure he wouldn’t be tempted either.

Grabbing a blanket from your shared tent, you take a seat beside him, wrapping it around both of you. “You feeling alright Starry Sky?” Gently, you wrap an arm around him, and feel the icy chill of his skin beneath his shirt. Not that his skin is ever all that warm, but this another level.

“Just tired,” he smiles weakly at you.

“And freezing,” your other hand reaches up to stroke his cheek lightly.

Eyes closed, he leans into your touch. “You know, I don’t even really feel it. I’m not sure if I need to be warm at all.”

“Hmm, even if you can’t feel it, you know why you’re freezing.” Leaning over you whisper to him, some things aren’t meant to include the others. “You’re hungry.”

“Perhaps a little, but I’m fine. I don't need you to start fussing over me constantly. There's an owlbear cub if you feel overtly maternal." The sharp words don't change the dark circles under his eyes, or how gaunt his cheeks look.

"You're ridiculously obstinate, you know that right," a gentle kiss on his temple follows your words, so he knows you're not actually being cross with him. You’ve come to realize he can’t stand it when he thinks you’re mad at him. In the past, anger meant reprisal, punishment, and in the context of the two of you, punishment could only mean withdrawing your affection. At least that’s where his thoughts lead.

"It is one of my better qualities," he leans over, head resting against your chest.

Shifting, you position yourself so he's seated between your legs, easier to let him rest his weight on you. "I don't know why you don't just ask me. My blood not good enough for your refined palate anymore?" Laughing, you try to mask the actual hurt that's creeping in. The truth is letting him feed from you has always felt like an important part of your relationship, the time when you’re closest to him.

It's been a long journey and a few of your group are already wandering to bed, although you think you hear Shadowheart muttering about saving it for the tent, whatever she said, Gale laughs it off. “Not at all,” he’s uncharacteristically serious, “I just…” he sighs, for once at a loss for words, “it seemed like a lot to ask from you, after everything else.”

“Everything else?” Lips leave light kisses on the top of his head as you brush your fingers through his hair.

“You know, lying to you, manipulating you, wanting you to still love me after all that. If I asked to feed from you, it would seem like I was trying to use you again.” Catching one of your hands, he kisses it and doesn’t let go.

For a moment you don’t know how to respond, you’re still not entirely used to seeing the softer, sincere side of him. “I see why you would think that, but I don’t want you to suffer. Let me take care of you, any way I can. That’s what I’m here for. Well, that and teaching you to be less of a stubborn arse it would seem.”

“Stop, you’re being entirely too sweet to me. It’s going to ruin my reputation around camp.” You let him have his moment of deflection and wait until he makes a frustrated noise. “But I can’t say I don’t want to.”

“Take what you need love,” you reach up to undo your collar and pull the blanket more securely around the two of you for privacy. A part of you considers moving to the tent, but you’re worried he’d use the opportunity to try to put it off more.

With a soft sigh, his lips press to your neck in a delicate kiss, teeth piercing your skin moments later. Pain and ecstasy course through you as you hold back a sigh. The two of you become one in that instant, bound through blood to the singular beating heart you now share, intimacy unparalleled. While he drinks, you fight to stay lucid enough to whisper to him of love and comfort, reassuring him that needing this from you is no sin. You feel your own warmth traveling into his skin, and you watch it take on a blush of life.

Before your world turns hazy, he pulls away, licking you clean, and returning his head to your chest, content to be held tightly. "I didn't take too much, did I?"

"No, you were perfectly careful dearest." The words bring a small smile to his lips, praise so new an experience for him, he hardly knows how to handle it. But you know he craves it, especially from you, and it makes you want to lavish it on him.

The others have vanished, a small part of you worries they noticed and were uncomfortable, but you hope they would understand as your friends. You two should join them soon, Baldur's Gate awaits, with a journey there still ahead. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“A few more minutes love,” somehow he manages to snuggle tighter against you, “I did miss this.”

“Me too, don’t wait so long next time. I’m always here for you.”

“There you go, being too nice to me again, silly girl.” Sitting up a bit he kisses you, fiercely, lips crashing together bruisingly, hands reaching to tangle in your hair, like a first and a last kiss all bound up in one and it leaves you gasping when he’s done. It’s as though he’s trying to express everything he feels in that one kiss. “I might get used to it if you’re not careful.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #my fanfiction #my writing

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myers-meadow · 1 month

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How about Raphael returning to the House of Hope as a blushy mess after an encounter with his little mouse and Haarlep needling him about it to try to get a reaction? Maybe the incubus's initial attempts don't get much of a reaction beyond Raphael telling them to just be quiet and so Haarlep suggests that maybe they should have their way with the moral to see what all the fuss is about, which is what caused Raphael's composure to break for a moment as he snarls a 'Don't you dare' or something. Then Haarlep could just needle him further by commenting on the cambion's strong reaction.

Raphael's jealousy, what a delicous thought.... 👀🥴

This is rather short, but I hope it hits the spot and provides a lil daydream fuel for you, anon :). Please let me know if you enjoyed, reblogs are very welcome <3

Warnings: 18 +, mild smut.

Wordcount: 438

Divider by saradika-graphics.

Last Light Inn. A place of desperation and of hope. What a delightful combination, Raphael smiled to himself. There was an ambitious tiefling kid among the folk seeking refuge in the Inn, a good way to keep himself busy as he waited for his sweet adventuring mouse to come to him. He knew Mol bonding with him would get under Tav's skin, which only delighted him more. Yet, by the end of their encounter, he was the one who returned home with his head stuck somewhere else.

"Aren't you cold today," Haarlep pouted, tugging at Raphael's hair as the man laid underneath him. "I take it they said 'no' to your little deal?" The incubus' voice was sickly sweet, and that was a warning in itself. "Perhaps you haven't tried the right approach yet."

"Like you know anything about how to tempt a mortal." Raphael bit.

Haarlep ground his hips into his master's, moaning lewdly at the pleasure. "More than you know. Let me have a try... I'll wait for them at the Sharess' Caress. The air will be ripe with desire, with potential. I'll tempt them, offer them that Hammer they need, and as a bonus for us, I'll make them submit, make them... ours."

Raphael squeezed Haarlep's hip in warning. The incubus leant down, hovering over him, noses brushing together with each thrust. He let out soft whines as he fucked himself proper, but not allowing Raphael to tip over the edge.

The incubus voice darkened when he spoke again. "Because this isn't really about the Crown, now, is it?"

At that, the cambion grabbed Haarlep and rolled them over, sharply and unexpectedly. His hand found the incubus' throat, who let out a needy whine, playing his part well despite the surprise. His thrusts grew rough and hard. Haarlep's chuckle died in his throat as he saw the angry wrinkle of Raphael's nose, all fury at the mere mention of him seducing his little mouse. The cambion pinned the incubus down by his legs, allowing him to thrust deeper, making Haarlep shiver with the new sensation of it. It was rare for Raphael to take charge like this, and the incubus took note of it, filing the knowledge this provided him with away for later.

"I'll say this only once, so listen close." Raphael leant down, folding the incubus practically in half, and lowering his voice to something dangerous. "This one isn't for you to play with."

#haarlep #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #house of hope #bg3 haarlep #raphael x tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #anon #ask #meadow's writing #baldur's gate 3 fanfic

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whatacaitastrophe · 1 month

Text

If You Were Mine

Summary: Four times Astarion realized he might be in love with Fallon, and the one time he was ready to do something about it, but Gale got there first.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Female), Astarion x Tav (Female)

AO3 Link: Here

Song Inspiration: "Can I Be Him" - James Arthur

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: Pining (so much pining), angst, mentions of past abuse, denial of feelings, realization of feelings, drinking, canon-compliant

“You can kill it can’t you? Like you did the others?” Astarion asked the elven female who stumbled upon him as she emerged from the destruction of the nautiloid crash. The crash that (somehow) Astarion, this elf, and the half-elf and human man who accompanied her, and god knows who else all managed to survive. Astarion had more questions than answers at this point, but he knew one thing: He’d seen this elf walking around the ship, so surely she had something to do with the tadpole that now resided in his brain. Though Astarion was fairly certain that the very same tadpole was the only reason he hadn’t burst into flames yet, so if this elf had something to do with it, maybe he should be thanking her instead of luring her into a trap.

The elf smirked at him, sizing him up, her violet eyes piercing Astarion down to his very soul. “Easily. Stand back.” Yes, if she knew how to kill them, then she must be familiar enough with his abductor’s to have had something to do with it. Astarion could not help himself– his eyes roamed over the elf’s body as she walked past him to assess the threat he’d completely fabricated.

She was beautiful— her tight leather armor clung to the curves of her body like a second skin, and if Astarion was being perfectly honest, he could not remember the last time he laid eyes on a backside that perfect. It was an observation that took him aback because, quite frankly, Astarion also couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared enough to truly notice.

Under Cazador’s control, Astarion just went through the motions. Step one: spout pretty words he didn’t mean to get them back to the palace. Step two: sleep with them so they’d lower their guard. Step three: hand them over to Cazador. Lather, rinse, repeat. Out here though, so far, it appeared as though Astarion was far enough away from Cazador to be free of his control. Perhaps his little stowaway was also the cause for that as well.

Astarion watched the woman carefully as she crept slowly around the corner, waiting for a mind-flayer to appear. She jumped slightly when the boar burst out of the bushes instead and that’s when Astarion struck. The blade of his dagger was against her neck and they were on the ground mere seconds later. “Ah, ah, ah, shhh. Don’t fight it, darling,” Astarion warned her before glancing over to her companions. “Stay back or I’ll slit her throat.”

The dark haired man glared at Astarion, and out of the corner of his eye, Astarion could have sworn he saw fire crackling on the man’s fingertips. A magic caster of some sort— likely a wizard based on his attire. “Do that, and I will incinerate you.”

So it was definitely fire, then, and the protective look in the wizard’s eyes meant he and the woman with Astarion’s blade against her neck were either already romantically involved, or this man wanted them to be. Whatever the case, Astarion just hoped it would keep the wizard from doing anything stupid.

This close to her face, the first thing Astarion noticed was the smattering of freckles across her cheeks— wild and uncoordinated, much like the navy streaks in her raven hair that were falling out of the ponytail atop her head. There was a scar across her nose and cheek, and for a split second, Astarion found himself wondering how she got it. She was even more beautiful up close. What a pity he was probably going to have to kill her.

“I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”

The woman had the audacity to shake her head. Astarion’s nostril’s flared. “Don’t lie to me— ah!”

Suddenly their minds were connected, and he was seeing flashes of a life that was not his: a man with the same violet eyes as this woman, bleeding out in her arms. A piece of parchment with a singular name and a pouch jingling with coin sliding across a bar top towards her. A man leering at her, offering to buy her a drink, and agreeing to go upstairs with her. Then, his dead body being dragged toward a balcony before getting tossed into the Chionthar.

Whoever this woman was, she was a paid assassin, and if she hadn’t head-butted him while he was distracted, Astarion probably would have noticed the arousal that accompanied the fear he felt knowing that the only reason he was still alive was because he’d gotten the upper hand, and tackled her to the ground first.

Her name was Fallon, Astarion learned, and the moment she confirmed that she too had been ready to kill him before their tadpoles took them on a trip down memory lane, Astarion decided he would follow her anywhere.

—

Finding Gandrel in the swamp was unexpected. Fallon led them there because she wanted to investigate the hag they’d run into, and the woman she may or may not have been holding hostage, but a wrong turn led their group up a hill and right to the Gur hunter who admitted he was hunting a vampire spawn.

There was no way this man was looking for anybody other than Astarion, and there was no way Gandrel hadn’t been sent by Cazador to find him. Astarion did his best to quell the panic rising within himself— his new companions did not yet know he was a vampire. One word from Gandrel, one mention of Astarion’s name, and his life would probably be forfeit. Fallon had let Astarion do all the talking up to this point, and she either did not notice or did not care as he slowly reached for his dagger.

“I’ve dealt with your kind before, you know,” Astarion said coolly to the hunter as he took a step forward. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, Astarion swiftly grabbed the man by the back of his head and drove the dagger into his eye, smirking as Gandrel gurgled his last breath before dropping lifelessly to the ground. “It wasn’t a good experience.”

Gale, the wizard from the beach, made a horrified noise. Karlach, their fiery new tiefling friend shouted and swore loudly. Fallon, on the other hand, just stared at Astarion in shock. Then, she took a deep breath and let out an exasperated sigh. “Please tell me you had a good reason for doing that.”

Astarion pulled his blade from the dead man’s eye and wiped the blood on his trousers. “The man was dangerous. Trust me, I did us a favor.”

Another exasperated sigh as Fallon closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and her forefinger. “Next time you decide to murder someone, at least warn me before you do it.”

Astarion raised his eyebrow and smirked at her. “I will definitely, probably, consider thinking about it.”

Fallon rolled her eyes at him, but Astarion couldn’t help but notice the amused smile she was trying to suppress— likely to keep Gale and Karlach from freaking out further. For whatever reason, she trusted Astarion. Moreover, she seemed to like him.

That was the moment Astarion decided he was going to seduce Fallon. For protection, of course— certainly not because he actually wanted her. Having Fallon on his side would certainly make things easier if Astarion’s companions ever found out he was a vampire. Yes, survival was all that mattered, he didn’t want her.

Right?

—

Astarion observed the party happening in their camp with a sour look on his face. The bottle of wine he’d swiped from the wagon the tieflings brought with them was…well, it wasn’t the worst wine Astarion had ever had, but it certainly wasn’t good, either. The gratitude from the tieflings was endless. One by one, they all made their way to his tent, profusely thanking him for saving their lives. A few were even emboldened enough by the alcohol to make a pass at Astarion, offering to thank him in a more intimate setting, to which he not-so-politely declined. No, there was only one person Astarion was interested in sleeping with tonight.

It was the perfect opportunity. After he failed to drink her blood while she slept, there was an energy shift in Astarion’s relationship with Fallon. They’d come to an agreement: he could drink her blood once every couple of days to maintain his strength, and he could drink the blood of as many of their enemies as he pleased. The blood of their enemies seemed to be endless, and while it sated Astarion’s hunger well enough (certainly more than the blood of animals), it never left Astarion feeling truly satisfied. The only blood that truly satisfied Astarion these days was Fallon’s. He craved her blood in a way he’d never craved anything, and he could only chalk it up to the fact that she was the first thinking creature Astarion ever drank from. Fallon’s blood was more intoxicating than the finest wine, and Astarion often found himself counting the days until he was once again allowed to press his mouth to her neck and bite the spot that made Fallon’s breath hitch and her heart rate increase.

Not only that, but whenever Astarion flirted with Fallon, she flirted back. Fallon entertained his ridiculous musings about what their companions’ blood might taste like (even if she’d confessed she would take a bite from Gale, of all people, given the chance). She indulged Astarion’s vanity when she caught him fruitlessly looking in a mirror, describing his features to him in great (extremely complimentary) detail. Every conversation Astarion had with the elven woman was planting the seeds for the move he intended to make this evening.

Astarion couldn’t help but admire Fallon as she worked the room, graciously accepting the gratitude from the tieflings and the druid, Halsin, who joined their party after they saved him from the goblin camp.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” The sound of Shadowheart’s voice made Astarion jump slightly, as he’d been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed that the cleric had made her way over to his tent, and was standing beside him observing the party.

Astarion looked over at Shadowheart, tilting his head. “A lot of this night is ridiculous, so I’m going to need you to be more specific, darling.”

Shadowheart nodded over to Fallon, who was currently laughing at something the bard– Alina, Alanna, Alfira– was saying to her. “The way they’re all falling at her feet,” Shadowheart clarifies. “Do you think she even realizes every single person at this party would take her to bed, if given the opportunity?”

An amused smirk appeared on Astarion’s face, and raised an eyebrow at the cleric. “Even you?”

“Caught that, did you?” She chuckled as she took a long drink from her wine bottle. “Why not? It’s a party, after all. Though I don’t think I’m her type.”

“Fair enough,” He conceded. “To answer your question…if she does realize it, she’s very good at hiding it.” Astarion studied Fallon as she said goodnight to Alfira, leaving the bard with a longing look in her eyes. Fallon looked over to where Astarion and Shadowheart were standing, and a bright smile appeared on her face as she made eye contact with Astarion.

“Good luck.” Shadowheart said, patting Astarion on the shoulder as she turned to take her leave.

“Not staying to converse with our fearless leader?”

“And bear witness to you trying to convince her to come to bed with you? I’d rather vomit.” Shadowheart teased, and Astarion frowned.

“What are you–” He asked, and Shadowheart gave him a sly grin as she walked away.

“I did say everyone at this party, didn’t I?” Well, she got him there.

Astarion shook his head as the cleric walked away, and drank from his bottle of wine.

“Was I interrupting something?” Fallon asked as she approached.

“Hardly. Shadowheart was just saying goodnight.” He took another sip of wine and winced.

“Why the face?”

“The tieflings don’t exactly have good taste in wine.” He scoffed.

Without another word, Fallon reached out and took the bottle of wine from his hand and drank from it. When she lowered the bottle from her lips, Fallon was trying not to sputter. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re a bad liar, darling.” Astarion chuckled as he took the bottle back.

The smile returned to her face as Fallon broke out into laughter. “Gods, it’s so bad. I’ve been drinking from a bottle I’ve got stowed in my tent all night.”

Astarion faked an appalled look as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You mean to tell me you’ve got something better than this plonk and you’re not sharing? Darling, I’m hurt.”

“To be fair, I got it from Gale.”

“Got it, or stole it?” Astarion asked mischievously.

“He gave it to me– you and I both know I would never be able to steal it without getting caught. That’s what I have you for.” Fallon grinned.

“Is that all you keep me around for, darling? Petty theft?” Astarion flirted, taking a step closer to her.

“You’re also pretty good at killing people without getting caught.” Fallon conceded as she took Astarion’s bottle of wine from him again and took another drink.

“And…what would you say if I were to suggest you and I sneak off later to find a little death without getting caught?” Astarion asked smoothly, not even bothering to hide the suggestive smirk on his face. This was it, the moment of truth: it was time to see if all of the seeds he’d spent the last fortnight planting were going to take root.

Astarion watched Fallon carefully as the slow realization of his suggestion washed over her. Despite the fact that there was a raucous party happening around them, all sound evaporated as he stared at Fallon. Astarion didn’t need to breathe, so the act of holding his breath in anticipation was simply that: an act. Fallon’s expression softened, and she reached forward and pressed the bottle of wine back into Astarion’s hand.

“You don’t have to do this, Astarion.”

Her response was not what he’d been expecting, and the suggestive expression on Astarion’s face faltered as he took a step back from Fallon. “What are you talking about?”

Fallon laughed softly. “I know what you’re doing…and I’m telling you that you don’t have to.”

Astarion stared at her, completely disarmed by her words. “I don’t know what you–”

“Please, I’m not an idiot. You think the only way to guarantee your safety is to seduce me. Right?”

The vampire’s jaw slackened as he stared at the ranger in front of him, completely stunned into silence. “I–” Astarion stammered before closing his mouth again.

“Well, you don’t. You’re my friend, Astarion. Barring the fact that you’ve already saved my ass more than once, being my friend means I’ve got your back. Your protection is already secured. I promise. No sneaking off for a little death required.”

“Okay.” Astarion said stupidly, all other words completely lost in the shock of this woman reading him so thoroughly.

Fallon took Astarion’s free hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Have a good night, Astarion.”

The vampire was too stunned to say anything else as Fallon walked away, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her as she did. Astarion saw the way her posture and gait changed as she made her way to Gale’s tent. Fallon wasn’t walking over to see the wizard, she was sauntering, and Gale was staring at her with his mouth slightly open as she approached.

Astarion had gathered from the pining looks Gale often gave Fallon when she wasn’t looking that the wizard wanted the ranger, but it never occurred to him that Fallon might want Gale, too. Astarion watched their entire exchange: the way Fallon’s face lit up when Gale cracked a joke, the way she placed her hand on his bicep as they made intense eye contact, the brief look of confusion on Gale’s face that slowly turned into elation as Fallon spoke.

Then, the wizard stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Fallon’s cheek before she turned to walk away, and a surge of jealousy clawed its way into Astarion’s chest as the ranger blushed, a lovesick grin plastered across her face as she went to talk to Karlach. Soon a dull ache replaced the jealousy in Astarion’s heart, and he frowned deeply.

Maybe his desire to sleep with Fallon was about more than just gaining her favor and protection.

Astarion downed the rest of his wine and dropped the empty bottle to the ground. “Shit.”

–

“I assume he belongs to you?” Araj Oblodra addressed Fallon, but she was referring to Astarion. The blood dealer from Menzoberranzan wanted him to bite her, because she wanted to know what it would feel like.

Fallon folded her arms across her chest, and shifted her weight to her left side. Astarion may have been standing behind her, but he knew that stance. It was the one Fallon often took when someone they encountered said something so utterly ridiculous that she was almost in disbelief that they could be so stupid.

“Excuse me? He is his own person.” There was a coldness to her tone, and Astarion swore the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. What she said, though, hearing Fallon say those words, it warmed Astarion’s heart like it was still beating.

“I’m sure he believes that. How utterly adorable,” Araj turned her attention toAstarion. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“Um, Astarion, but hold on—“ He could feel the panic starting to rise within him as he listened to Araj offer them an extremely valuable potion in exchange for a bite from Astarion. This woman saw him as an object and nothing more: something to be used for her personal enjoyment, something to be exploited.

Astarion declined, and that was not what Araj wanted to hear. That was the moment Astarion’s head started to spin. He felt separated from his body, like he was watching this play out from the rafters, not like he was actually there and participating in the conversation as Araj berated him for saying no.

He didn’t come back to reality until he saw the peak of Fallon’s ponytail somewhat obstructing his vision, because she’d stepped in between Astarion and Araj.

“He said no, now back the fuck off or the only blood you’ll be dealing with will be your own after I spill it all over this gods damned floor.” Fallon threatened, and Astarion felt that warm feeling in his heart again.

Araj made another rude comment about Astarion being a spawn, about him being property, and before Astarion could truly register what was happening, Fallon lunged at the drow, only to be caught around her middle by Karlach.

“Steady soldier, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.” The tiefling reminded their leader as Araj drank an invisibility potion and fled. Not that the potion really made any difference— Fallon could still see the drow, courtesy of Volo, even if the rest of them couldn’t.

“I don’t care. I’ll kill her and make it look like a fucking accident. I know how.” Fallon fumed as she struggled against Karlach’s grip.

“Perhaps we should go back to camp for the evening to clear our heads before our cover gets blown and reconvene tomorrow.” Gale suggested anxiously as he peered around to make sure nobody in the adjacent rooms to Araj’s workshop was aware that anything had gone awry.

“Fine, but if she’s here when we come back tomorrow I can’t promise I’ll let her live.” Fallon seethed, and the warm feeling in Astarion’s heart intensified.

Several hours later, once everyone else had gone to bed, Fallon approached him.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she sat down beside Astarion outside his tent.

That was certainly the question, wasn’t it? “I should have given her what she wanted,” Astarion said quietly as he averted his eyes from Fallon. “That potion could have been an asset.”

“No potion is worth having if you have to force yourself to do something you don’t want to do.” Fallon countered.

“There’s so much at stake, though. My whole life since becoming a vampire has been about using my looks to get what I wanted—what Cazador wanted— I should have just gritted my teeth through a single moment of unpleasantness and moved on. That’s…that’s what I used to do. It should have been easy.”

“It wasn’t easy this time because you’re stronger now than you used to be. You’re not a slave anymore— you’re free.” Astarion looked at Fallon and he saw the pride shining in her eyes. She was right. Astarion was definitely not the person he was when they met, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized this was largely in part to having met Fallon in the first place. “It’s because of you, you know. You—you’ve made me realize that I deserve better. I can’t say I know what the future holds for me, but I know that whatever decisions I make will be mine; and no one can take that from me.”

Fallon smiled genuinely at him and Astarion couldn’t help but smile back. There was just something about her smile that seemed to brighten up even this land shrouded in darkness. “While I wish I could take all the credit, I wouldn’t have gotten through to you if that strength wasn’t already inside you somewhere.” She leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder.

“Gods, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?” Astarion teased with a soft laugh. Not once in the short time that Astarion had known Fallon had he ever witnessed the woman receive a compliment and just say thank you— it was always thank you, followed by some ridiculous reason she didn’t deserve said compliment, or complete denial she deserved the recognition at all.

Fallon let out a sharp laugh. “Caught on, have you?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you always do that? Deflect when someone says something nice about you.” Astarion elaborated as he studied Fallon closely. Her eyes began rapidly looking everywhere except at Astarion as she sat next to him quietly.

When Fallon finally made eye contact with Astarion again, there was a sadness in her eyes that Astarion understood all too well. “The same reason you do it: when someone spends all their time telling you that you aren’t worthy of kind words, eventually, you begin to believe them.”

Though Astarion had come to count Fallon amongst the few he could call a friend, this was the first time Fallon offered up any sort of real information about herself (and her life before they were abducted) to Astarion and suddenly, her rejection at the party with the tieflings made even more sense. The overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around the raven-haired elf and tell her just how worthy and wonderful she was flooded Astarion’s body. Instead, he just stared at Fallon and nodded sympathetically, because doing anything more than that would mean admitting out loud that he cared for Fallon far more than he ever intended to.

Another moment of silence passed before Astarion stood up and disappeared into his tent momentarily. When he returned, he had a bottle of wine in his hand. He uncorked it and took a long drink before passing the bottle to Fallon with a soft smile.

“Here’s to being better than they ever told us we’d be.” Astarion toasted.

Fallon smiled at him as she took the bottle, and just like that, warmth flooded Astarion’s heart again and all of the atrocities of the day began fading away.

Maybe, someday, he would be worthy of that smile.

Maybe, someday, he would be worthy of her.

–

“You’re running out of time, you know.” Shadowheart said to Astarion one morning when they were alone at camp. Fallon, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll had gone to Moonrise Towers to rescue more tieflings, and Lae’zel was at The Last Light Inn, discussing battle strategies with Jaheira and the Harpers.

Astarion gave the cleric a look. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure?” Shadowheart asked slyly, which only exacerbated Astarion’s confusion.

“Yes, I am quite sure.”

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about Fallon. You’re running out of time to tell her how you feel.”

Despite the calm look that appeared on Astarion’s face when Shadowheart explained herself, deep inside, Astarion was panicking. How did Shadowheart know? Surely it hadn’t been obvious…had it? Astarion didn’t think he’d been treating Fallon any differently since the day they met Araj Oblodra. If anything, he’d given her more space. Astarion scoffed.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, darling.” Astarion said casually.

Another eye roll from the cleric. “Perhaps I was wrong, then. However, on the offhand chance that you’re lying, and I’m not wrong, Gale declared his intentions to Fallon yesterday. After a bloody battle, of all things.”

Despite the neutral look he managed to keep on his face, Astarion’s heart dropped into his stomach. Gale and Fallon had been exchanging bashful smiles and pining glances ever since the tiefling party a few weeks ago, but Astarion didn’t think Gale had the stones to actually do anything about it. Then again, something changed about the way Gale carried himself after that old wizard showed up and instructed Gale to blow himself up at Mystra’s request. Perhaps Gale was going to go through with it, so he needed to strike while the iron was hot.

If that was the case, how dare Gale use her in that way and pass it off as his dying wish? Fallon had a big heart– Astarion had seen it in the way she rushed to help those who needed it and to avenge the people that were lost. He saw it in the way Fallon looked out for Astarion and the rest of their companions, taking the time to actually get to know them and make sure everyone was doing alright, promising to help solve everyone’s individual problems on top of dealing with her own. It was obvious she had feelings for the wizard, and that Gale was content with taking advantage of her feelings and her kindness…to use Fallon and discard her so he could be a martyr for his goddess…it made Astarion’s blood boil.

If that was the case, Astarion would kill Gale himself.

“Astarion?” Shadowheart waved her hand in front of the vampire’s face, snapping him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

“Sorry, darling, it’s been a while since I ate and the hunger kind of took over my thoughts for a moment.”

Shadowheart smirked at him as she saw through the lie– Astarion fed on Fallon yesterday, and the ranger had the bitemarks to show for it. “Right…well, seeing as I have no intention of being your next meal, I’ll leave you to it. Just…don’t wait too long before you go hunting, alright? I’d hate for you to miss out on something good because your prey got away from you.”

Astarion shot Shadowheart a grateful look, both for not pressing him to verbally admit he had feelings for Fallon, and also for encouraging him to do something about it. “Thank you.”

The rescue mission was a success, and when Fallon, Gale, Karlach, and Wyll returned to camp everyone was in high spirits. Not only had they managed to save all of the tieflings captured by the Absolutists, but also a group of Ironhand gnomes, with no casualties. It seemed like as good a time as any to try and talk to Fallon– not that Astarion had any idea what he was going to say to her. These feelings, his desire for her, it was all foreign and uncharted territory and there was at least a fifty percent chance that Astarion would end up not saying anything at all and making up a reason he wanted to speak with her.

Astarion and Fallon were usually the last two awake– being elves meant they naturally required less sleep than everyone else. Once it seemed like everyone had gone to bed, Astarion momentarily retired to his tent to grab a bottle of wine, certain that alcohol would calm his nerves (plus telling Fallon he loved her over a glass of wine felt like perhaps it was an appropriate romantic gesture). Upon exiting his tent, however, Astarion was greeted with the sight of an astral projection of Gale, and it was speaking to Fallon.

Shit.

What were the chances that what he’d just witnessed wasn’t exactly what Astarion thought it might be? Something told him the probability was low. Astarion hung back until the vision of Gale evaporated before making his way over to the elf, bottle of wine still in hand (just in case). “What was that about? Is the wizard suddenly too good for in-person conversation?” Astarion asked as he approached Fallon from behind. The ranger jumped, clearly not aware that anybody had seen the exchange that just occurred, and when she turned to face Astarion, her cheeks were flushed and there was a giddy smile on her face.

“Oh! Hi! Gale was just– he, um– he invited me to come meet him somewhere private. I guess he wants to show me something?”

So it was exactly what Astarion thought it might be. Fuck. He was too late. “Show you something, hm? I can only imagine what he could possibly want to show you in private.” Astarion smirked as he teased Fallon.

“Shut up.” The elf in front of him rolled her eyes and giggled– Astarion was certain that not only had he never heard Fallon laugh like that before, but it was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. Her eyes drifted to the bottle of wine in Astarion’s hand. “Did you need something?”

Astarion shook his head. “I wanted to see if you were interested in a nightcap to celebrate your win today, but it sounds like you’re otherwise engaged, so I’ll be off.”

“I’m sorry.” Fallon apologized, bless her, not that he really had any idea why she felt the need to do so.

“Not to worry.. Another time,” He waved her off with his free hand and an easy smile, hopeful that it masked the fact that he felt like he was dying inside. “Have fun, darling.” With a wink, Astarion turned on his heels and walked back to his tent, his face falling the second his back was to Fallon.

Fallon and Gale did not return to camp until the next morning when everyone was already around the campfire eating breakfast. They were hand in hand, and Fallon giggled softly as Gale leaned in to whisper something in her ear before kissing her cheek.

“It’s about gods-damned time!” Karlach hollered upon seeing them.

“I, too, was growing tired of the longing glances the two of you gave each other when the other was not looking. I’m glad you both finally saw sense. Perhaps now you’ll be able to focus on the problems at hand.” Lae’zel agreed, and Astarion couldn’t help but snort with laughter. Even when she was congratulating someone, she managed to insult them. It was brilliant.

“Are you going to be okay?” Shadowheart’s voice filled Astarion’s mind as she used their tadpole connection to wordlessly communicate with him.

Astarion did not look at Shadowheart, not wanting to give away that they were having a private conversation in their minds. “Like I said yesterday, darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He saw no reason to admit his true feelings to his friend, especially not now– not when they officially didn’t matter. Fallon made her choice, and her choice was not Astarion.

He watched as Gale escorted Fallon to her tent, likely so she could change out of yesterday’s clothes, the dull ache that had taken root in his chest the night before intensifying tenfold as Gale tucked his finger beneath Fallon’s chin and kissed her deeply before making his way to his own tent. The smile on Fallon’s face was bright enough that Astarion was certain even the shadows of this cursed place would shy away.

“She looks happy.” Shadowheart’s voice filled Astarion’s mind again, and he sighed.

“She deserves nothing less.”

Once upon a time, Astarion might have made a play for Fallon’s heart anyway, her relationship with Gale be damned. Ironically, the reason Astarion now listened to his moral compass was entirely due to Fallon’s influence. Without even realizing it (or maybe she did), Fallon had turned Astarion into a better person, and because of that, he was going to let his feelings for her go. If all Fallon was able to offer him was her friendship then Astarion would be grateful for it. He just hoped that seeing her happy with someone else would eventually stop feeling like someone ripped open his chest and threw his heart on the ground.

How sad it was, to finally feel alive again, and not be able to share it with the person who made him feel that way.

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