#wyll however. hes a giving man
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BG3 Companions ranked from least to most willing to Eat A Vegetable:
Astarion gets a pass because he doesn't eat solid food. This pass is revoked because if he wasn't a vampire trying to make him eat a balanced diet would be a nigh-insurmountable task.
Gale is a spectacularly picky eater, which is rich coming from a man who ate a pair of boots this afternoon.
Jaheira will judge you for not eating enough vegetables while she, herself, is eating a meal made up entirely of beer, dried sausage, and stale bread.
Minthara is unconvinced by surface vegetables, and also is complaining that you cooked the mushrooms wrong.
You cannot make Minsc eat his veggies! Boo, however, can.
Lae'zel eats pretty much whatever you put in front of her. Calories are calories.
Shadowheart has more distinct opinions about food than Lae'zel, but in a crisis has a similar you eat what you're given to keep up your strength ethos.
Wyll was brought up to eat a balanced diet and clear his plate, and he's the kind of wholesome to praise whatever you serve him with apparently genuine enthusiasm.
Ok. Look. You might think Karlach would be higher up on the list. What you need to consider is that it has been ten years since she's eaten cabbage. Prime Material Plane food is the best.
If you do not give Halsin a green salad with his dinner he will give you the biggest, saddest, most disappointed teddy bear eyes.
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For All I Care
Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist
Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Asexual!Tav, Astarion x Bard!Tav
Astarion's POV, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Astarion being bad with emotions, hints of one-sided Gale x Tav if you squint
Warning: Canon typical violence, violent thoughts toward Tav
Summary: After a fight with a hag, the rest of the party wakes up to find you still fighting for your life. Astarion feels himself at a loss, afraid and helpless in a way he has never felt before. And it's all your fault.
A/N: Just a gentle reminder that I have not played the game, so in terms of the exact placement on the timeline, it's a little sketchy. Just know that this is well before the events of I Want It All, and we'll call it good. And, as always, PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!
Word Count: 6.2K
If Astarion never saw a hag again, it would be too soon. Just one was more than enough for several lifetimes. The bitch was not only a sore to look at but hit like a brick wall. Even after a full night’s sleep aided by Shadowheart’s magic, he still felt stiff all over.
The rest of camp wasn’t much better. The sun was almost fully overhead by the time everyone stumbled out of their bed rolls. All morning banter was replaced with mumbled greetings and not so subtle groans. Even Lae’zel remained quiet, seemingly too occupied with her own discomfort to comment on the weakness of everyone else.
Astarion counted himself grateful for that. He didn’t think he could endure a lecture on top of an aching back.
“Here we are,” Gale said, a little too cheerfully. “I know last night's excursion was rather strenuous, but if this doesn’t cure what ails you, nothing will. No offense, Shadowheart.”
“I would take offense, but I’m frankly too tired to care,” she countered, dryly.
Gale gave a good natured laugh before handing her a bowl of something hot.
The pout on her face fell away as soon as she took her first bite. The rest weren’t far behind, the low murmur of pain turning to something more pleasant.
Astarion observed, doing his best to push down the bite on envy in his chest. He could eat, technically, but it went right through him, not even granting him the temporary relief of a full stomach. If it didn’t smell appetizing, he wouldn’t mind so much, but it did. Yet another minor torture of his existence.
Eventually Gale did turn his gaze to him, that annoyingly persistent enthusiasm faltering.
“Do you…ah, require a refreshment?”
Deciding to have some fun, Astarion gave him his best seductive smirk.
“Very much,” he purred. “However, if you’re the one offering, I’ll pass. I’ve got someone much more appetizing in mind.”
He turned his head towards your tent, and immediately frowned. You still hadn’t made an appearance. Granted you were always one to rest in, but this was getting ridiculous.
Gale followed his eye line, grimacing as he came to a similar conclusion.
“Might need to hold off on that. They got it pretty rough last night.”
“I’ll go check on them,” Wyll volunteered, pouring a fresh bowl of stew. “If anything will get them out of bed, this will.” He then turned to Astarion, giving him a hard look. “Try to keep your fangs to yourself until they’ve eaten something.”
He answered with a mocking pout. “Oh mother, must I?”
Wyll didn’t raise to the bait, rolling his one good eye before making his way towards your tent.
Something odd twisted inside Astarion. He was struck with the sudden urge to trip the man. Childish perhaps, but he just couldn’t stand that tone of altruistic condescension. He would have spoken up if Wyll hadn’t beaten him to it. He was rather partial to the idea of you and him sharing breakfast in bed. It would only be breakfast, but he wasn’t in a position to try for more. At the very least, it would be a convenient excuse to check on you himself.
Gale hadn’t been exaggerating. You had gotten the brunt of the hag’s attention, running between everyone to provide whatever aid you could. By the time you made it back to camp, you could barely stand, skipping your nightly check-ins in favor of falling straight into your tent and a soundless sleep.
This troubled him in a way he couldn’t properly explain. It wasn’t like he needed you to tuck him in, but he had grown accustomed to your face being the last he saw before closing his eyes. He knew the others appreciated it as well. It was how you had found yourself as the leader of this merry band. You weren’t the strongest or the most powerful, you simply took the time to care.
It should have bothered him more. Gods knew he clashed with Wyll and Karlach on more than one occasion concerning their bleeding heart heroics. Perhaps it was because your heart always put the party first. You’d extend it to others, but never to the point it needlessly put them and, more importantly, him in danger.
You just…helped, with clear eyed understanding and so little fanfare it made it easy to forget just how much you did, until the moment you couldn’t.
He blinked hard, mentally yanking himself from wherever his mind was leading him.
He wouldn’t feed on you today, he decided. There had to be some boar or deer around. It’d be best if they stay put another day anyhow. No need to rush into the next life or death scenario.
“Shadowheart! Gale!”
Everyone turned, to see Wyll running from your tent. The two spellcasters were up the next second, all exhaustion rushing from their bodies, readying for a fight.
“What’s going on?” Gale asked.
“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with Tav.”
“What? How?” Shadowheart interjected. “They were fine last night. I healed them myself.”
Wyll shook his head. “That may be, but they’re not waking up.”
“We better have a look then,” Gale said, with an authority that left no room for argument. He took the lead, the two others falling quickly behind.
Astarion stayed where he was, frozen. There was a hard twisting in his gut. He could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as the sudden need to run shot through his veins. He recognized the symptoms; fear was an emotion he was intimately familiar with.
Before he realized what was happening, he was on his feet, taking long strides towards your tent.
It couldn’t be as bad as Wyll was making it sound. Admittedly, you had been run rather ragged, but nothing the rest of them hadn’t felt. Perhaps he had taken one bite too many. This was nothing. You were fine. You were supposed to be fine.
He stopped at the threshold, pushing aside the flap.
Whatever breath he had in his lungs rushed out in an instant.
The first thing that hit him was the smell. It clung to the inside of his nose reeking of damp sickness. Your body was drenched in sweat, your hair plastered to your forehead in soaked clumps. He swore he could feel the heat of your skin burning. Your breath came ragged as if someone had wrapped an invisible hand around your throat and was slowly choking the life out of you. He could see how your body twitched and jerked. It was taking both Shadowheart and Wyll to keep your limbs in check as Gale mumbled some enchantment over your body.
His hand gripped hard on the fabric. He needed to take a step back. He had little experience with disease, but it was plain enough that whatever this was didn’t play by any rules he was familiar with. The survivor in him screamed to use this perfect distraction to grab whatever he could carry and run. Still, he didn’t move.
“What’s wrong with them?” he said, his voice rough even to his ears.
“I don’t know,” Gale admitted, clearly disturbed. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”
“They were fine,” Shadowheart insisted. “I healed them, and they went to bed. Nothing else happened.”
“There were a lot of spells being thrown around last night. Maybe they were hit with something the rest of us weren’t,” Wyll suggested.
“Oh Gods,” Karlach said, just behind Astarion’s shoulder. “Do you think it’s the tadpoles?”
Something heavy sunk straight into his stomach at her words. It certainly was a possibility. They all knew the symptoms, but why now? Why you?
There was a slight rustle of movement just behind him. Lae’zel by the smell. A quick look out of the corner of his eye saw her standing just behind Karlach. Her back was stiff and her expression hardened in a way he had come to recognize.
He never moved faster in his life.
Before anyone could react, he ducked under Karlach’s arm, knocking Lae’zel off her feet. Her sword scattered clear of her grip, skittering into the grass. She fell with a hard thump as he used the momentum to trap her under the weight of his body and dagger at her throat.
“Now, what were you planning to do with that,” he said, as smooth as a knife.
Her surprise was evident, but quickly overtaken by a low growl straight from her chest.
“Unhand me, or I will unhand you.”
“Might need the sword for that.”
“Oi! What’s going on?” Karlach said, finally turning towards the scene.
“If it is the tadpoles, we cannot risk them turning,” Lae’zel snapped. “I am prepared to do what is necessary.”
Red blinded Astarion’s vision, a hiss escaping his lips as they pulled back to show bared fangs.
“Necessary?”
“We don’t know that yet,” Wyll said, stepping beside Karlach. “Just think a moment. If it was the tadpoles, wouldn’t all of us have felt something by now?”
Lae’zel ignored him, her eyes turning straight to Astarion’s. Her expression lost none of its fury, but there was a coldness to it that forced an air of calm.
“You know I’m right,” she held.
His jaw clenched. He did know. If even one of them turned into a mind flayer the rest were bound to follow. Killing you would be the logical thing to do to preserve his own survival. Still, it wasn’t your neck he was poised to cut.
“Nobody is killing anyone!” Wyll interjected. “Gale and Shadowheart will figure out what’s wrong with Tav. In the meantime, we are not going to do anything we would sooner regret.”
“Astarion?” Karlach said, cautiously.
There was a long pause. He could feel their eyes burning the back of his skull, but neither stepped closer. It was easy to imagine what he looked like; half crazed, teeth bared and blade ready. Not his best moment.
With what grace he could muster, he pulled away, quickly putting some distance between himself and Lae’zel.
She got to her feet, decidedly not reaching for her weapon as her eyes moved between the three of them.
“They live for now,” she allowed. “But if Tav does turn, you know what we’ll have to do.”
Astarion’s spine stiffened. The dagger twitched in his hand, just in time for Karlach to step between them.
“Walk away Lae’zel,” she said, sternly. “I’m not kidding.”
Lae’zel’s brow furrowed, her face twisting in disgust. “Tsk'va,” she cursed. “Cowards. All of you.”
She turned then, picking up her sword before making her way back to her tent.
Once she was a good distance away, some of the tension left Karlach’s shoulders as she pulled her attention back to him.
“You okay?” Karlach asked.
“Well, I certainly haven’t made any new friends,” Astarion said, his voice tighter than he intended. He glanced over at Wyll. “I take it still no answers?”
Wyll gave a long sigh. “Gale said he’ll need more time to detect the exact cause. He doesn’t think it’s the tadpoles, but there’s no telling just yet. Luckily, Shadowheart was able to calm them enough to sleep. At the very least they’re no longer at risk of hurting themselves.”
“So what do we do?” Karlach asked.
“Wait. This isn’t something we can fight. Gale and Shadowheart will do what they can, but ultimately, this is Tav’s battle.”
Astarion bit back a growl as red once again danced across his vision.
Wait? That was the fabled Blade of Frontier’s brilliant plan? Hells below was everyone in this camp completely useless?! He didn’t need to be a cleric to know what was happening. He knew what dying smelled like and none of them, not a single one, could think of an actual, tangible solution besides wait?
Forget tripping the man, it was taking every single ounce of restraint to keep from strangling him.
Draining the last of his patience, he turned on his heel, and made his way towards the treeline.
“Where are you going?” Wyll called.
“To go kill something,” Astarion spat. “Unless you want me to stay here and do it.”
Wyll looked like he was going to say something that would put his neck in Astarion’s teeth, but Karlach spoke up first.
“We’ll make sure Lae’zel keeps her distance. Don’t wander too far.”
Astarion didn’t have an answer. He just managed a tight nod before continuing out of camp and out of sight.
He didn’t know how long he walked. He just knew that by the time he stopped the sun was much lower in the sky. The sounds of his companions deafened in the overgrowth leaving him well and truly alone.
A shuddering breath escaped his lungs. Whatever strength in his limbs left him. He only just managed to catch himself on a tree as his hands began to shake.
What in the nine hells had he been thinking?
Well, that was the trick, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been thinking. Fear had been driving him and he had done as he always did when fear took over; he found a way to survive, damn anyone who got in his way. The difference was, it wasn’t his life that was in danger. When had your survival become so vital to his?
He knew he was reliant on you to keep him safe from Cazador. You were the only one who trusted him. Without your vote of confidence, chances are he would have been left to his own devices a long time ago. He needed you alive if he were to maintain the protection of the others. And he had put that protection in direct threat by holding a knife to one of the group’s best fighters.
He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face in his hands.
Fuck, this was a disaster. He had never been particularly gifted when it came to strategy. It was difficult to anticipate consequences when he never knew what fresh hell awaited him in the morning. Compound that feeling by two hundred years and it was no wonder all his plans fell apart.
Even if you did survive, he still had no way of guaranteeing you would stay loyal to him. All his attempts at seduction had failed. You certainly enjoyed his company, and he was sure you gave him more attention than the others, but he didn’t know what you wanted. Every single day he waited for you to name your price and every single day you failed to answer. It was driving him to insanity.
No wonder he had been so quick to draw his blade. Any grasp he had on safety was already hanging by an invisible thread.
He let out a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. There was little he could control at the moment, but he could control himself. It was a new sensation, one he was still getting used to. He’d have an easier time of it once he fed.
Blood of thinking beings was out for the moment. He’d have to settle for something big and preferably angry. There would be nothing elegant about this hunt.
He got his wish. While he might have preferred a bear, the raging boar did well enough for his purposes.
It was an ugly kill. He didn’t just bite the beast. He tore into its neck so deeply the bones of its neck became exposed to the open air alongside bloodied muscle. His hands did the rest, ripping it fully open so the innards spilled out onto the forest floor. In the end, he didn’t even get much blood out of it, allowing the earth to become wet with carnage.
He breathed it in, hoping it would somehow erase the smell of your convulsing body from his mind.
It didn’t work.
Even with fresh blood in his mouth, he could only think of your labored breaths and racing heart. The relief of sated hunger became tainted by the taste of sickness on his tongue.
He forced himself back on his feet, not bothering to wipe away the blood as he stumbled further into the forest.
There was nothing he could do. He’d sooner drain the life from you than save it. It was baked into his nature; a disease in his own right.
If he just had a target, something he could trick or kill, it would be different. Instead he was left to wait; useless…powerless.
His hands clenched, his nails digging into his palms to the point of pain.
Surely he didn’t need you so badly. If you died, he would just have to refocus his efforts on somebody else; Shadowheart perhaps, or even Gale. He wasn’t about to get sentimental now. He would survive you as he had done countless others. This wasn’t his end.
He found a deer next, performing the same ritualistic slaughter. Blood filled him. He could feel his mind becoming clear, but it wasn’t enough. He moved onto a burrow of rabbits, then a badger, and even a weasel. It was only when he caught himself seriously contemplating gutting a squirrel did he realize how futile it was. All the blood in the world couldn’t make up for his inherent weakness.
He had grown too dependent on you. It was making him sloppy, unbalanced. Maybe you were better off dead. He would be free then.
That was the point of this whole venture wasn’t it? To be free. Free of Cazador. Free of fear. And here he was ready to chain himself to another just because they’d shown him a bit of kindness. What was that kindness worth when the loss of it inspired a terror he'd never known before.
A fury rose within him, one he clung to like a lifeline.
This was all your fault. You brought him to this. How could he possibly forgive you?
He let the anger fester as he took the time to clean himself up. Blood caked his hands up to his elbows with tendons stuck under his fingernails. It took several washes in a nearby stream to get it all out. He counted himself lucky his shirt had managed to escape most of the viscera. The last thing he wanted was an interrogation.
He needn’t have worried. It was well after dark by the time he crept back to camp. All was still, in the same way a body became when holding its breath.
He spotted Gale easily enough as he poured over some tome, his lips moving along with the words. Lae’zel and Wyll sat together, polishing their weapons without exchanging a word. Shadowheart looked to be meditating while Karlach sat next to the fire, brow furrowed while throwing the occasional stick into the flames.
Aside from the faint scrap of stone on metal, not a sound came from any of them.
Against his own will, his gaze turned to your tent.
It struck him then, why the quiet filled him with such dread.
By now a steady flow of strings should be teasing the edge of his ears. You seemed convinced a half inch of fabric was enough to muffle your rehearsals. None of them bothered to correct this assumption. On more than one occasion, he found himself forgetting the book in his hand as he listened to you work out some new melody. There was something about the way you played, as if each note lifted a burden on your soul. And if the night wasn’t filled with your music, it was touched by your voice.
You had a way of sparking conversation, sharing countless stories while encouraging the others to do the same. You knew when to listen, when to comment and just when to laugh to make the telling all the sweeter. He spent more time than he cared to admit thinking about how to pull that sound to your lips. He found it had the same effect on him as your plucking.
Then there were the rare times, when banter dwindled and everyone became lost in their own thoughts, he could make out a song just under your breath, an unconscious hum to accompany your work.
It brought a comfort he couldn’t describe, one he hadn’t realized he needed, until it was gone.
With quick steps he made his way to you, slipping into your tent with not even the barest rustle of fabric.
He’d never been in your tent before. If it were any other day, he’d be taking the time to examine every inch of it, but all he could focus on was you.
You were so still. An improvement from before, but not an especially encouraging one. It was clear from the perfectly arranged pillows you hadn’t moved since Shadowheart put you back to sleep. The only hint you were alive was that barest intake and outtake of breath.
His jaw tightened, his body tensing as a growing panic rose within him.
No, this was good. You were stable, for now. He still had options, more time to plan. He didn’t have to make any decisions tonight. Best he left and waited to see what the morning would bring.
You took a sharp intake of breath, slightly deeper than before. Your eyes twitched behind your lids and then you settled.
He paused, glancing to the entrance, half expecting somebody to come rushing in. He was surprised nobody was in here with you, or at the very least watching the door. He had slipped by without so much as a “hey you”. Any vagrant could just wander in.
He could end it right now. All it would take was one quick slice. The picture became clear; a single surprised gasp, the smell of your blood and then…silence. Forever.
Bile rose in his throat. He shut his eyes trying to will the image away as that new desperate terror threatened to drown him all over again.
Damn you. Damn you to every circle of the hells!
The gods were mocking him. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He couldn’t just like you. No, he had to go and start caring.
A small whimper broke through his thoughts. Your head jerked, your brows pinching in distress.
Shadowheart. He needed to get Shadowheart, or Gale, or Wyll. Hells, she may not be able to touch you, but Karlach would undoubtedly have a better bedside manner. Besides Lae’zel he was the worst person suited for this. Gods, what was he even doing here?
You took a sharp intake of breath, flinching away from something only you could see.
He was on his knees the next second.
Your body settled, but your breathing came hard and fast. At least it wasn’t rasping.
His hands hovered over you, unsure of what to do. He had officially given up on the idea of leaving. He’d just have to improvise the rest.
Hesitantly, he let his fingers brush across your forehead, pushing aside a few of the loose strands. You were hot to the touch, but he took comfort in the fact you weren’t sweating as you were before. Whatever had taken hold of you that morning, it seemed to have loosened its grip.
You began to calm, a soft murmur of contentment stumbling from your lips.
The irony was not lost on him, but it didn’t stop a part of him from melting at the sound.
“Now that’s hardly playing fair, darling,” he whispered. “I’m trying to be angry with you.”
You didn’t answer except for a sigh as you turned your head, following his touch.
He allowed himself to linger for a moment before placing the back of his hand against your skin to feel it properly. You really were much too warm. The relief you were expressing no doubt came more from his body temperature than his caresses.
Slowly, he pulled away as he glanced around the small space. There had to be a water skin in here somewhere. Surely the idiots would know better than to leave you to burn yourself from the inside out.
A soft groan caught his attention as he spun back to you.
You shifted under the blankets, rolling back and forth as if to get loose of your cocoon. Your eyes darted quickly behind your lids. Another huff of breath and then, all at once, there you were.
“Tav?” he breathed.
Your eyes were bleary. Your skin was sallow. Your hair was a mess. Everything around him smelled of sweat and sick. And for a moment, he swore he could feel his heart beat again.
A hint of a smile touched the corner of your mouth, your brows rising slightly.
“Tav? Must be pretty bad then.”
He had to laugh. It was a short, strangled thing, and just about the only thing he could do to keep the stinging in his eyes at bay.
“Worse,” he said, managing to gain some hold on himself. “Of course, it must be said, your worse is most best.”
You huffed out a small laugh of your own, which quickly turned into a series of dry coughs.
He straightened in alarm before quickly spotting the water skin hanging on the center pole of the tent. Thankfully it was full, allowing him to waste no time lifting your head as he guided the water into your mouth.
As soon as the liquid met your tongue you scrambled for more, pushing yourself further up to guzzle the rest.
“Easy,” he warned, pulling back the container. “Can’t have you choking to death after all of that.”
You gave a slight sputter, proving his point as you caught your breath. “Sorry. Just thirsty.”
“Clearly,” he quipped. “Do you need more?”
You averted your eyes, your expression turning suddenly sheepish. “Please?”
As tempting as it was, he decided to save his teasing for later. It was always more fun when you could give it right back anyway.
He lifted your head, resting it on his lap before guiding the lip of the lid back to yours.
“Slowly this time,” he cautioned.
Your muscles tensed with restraint, but you followed his lead, taking no more than he gave.
He tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. His mind flickered to his own thirst and, for a moment, he could see his own desperation reflected in your eyes.
Something stirred inside him; an ache he didn’t recognize. He’d do just about anything to keep that look from marring your face ever again.
Once you’d gotten a few more mouthfuls he pulled the water skin away, setting it down on the floor beside you.
“Thank you,” you said, your voice still a little rough, but an obvious improvement.
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “To anyone.”
“Don’t worry, nobody would believe me anyway,” you teased.
“Truer words.”
Without really thinking, he let his palm rest on your forehead. He had already gotten a sense of your temperature, but the way your eyes closed as you relaxed into his touch was too good to pass up.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like a band of goblins decided to make a riot of my insides,” you admitted, before turning your gaze upward. “What about you?”
“Me?”
Your mouth turned in an apologetic half smile. “No offense, but you look a bit ragged. Did something happen?”
He blinked, surprised by the sudden flash of anger your question inspired. Of course he was a bit ragged. You had started this morning on the verge of death, the knowledge of which had been torturing him for near on…oh, who bloody cared how long. And yet you had the audacity to ask if something happened, as if that wasn’t enough; as if you weren’t enough.
It must have shown on his face, as your brows furrowed in concern.
“Astarion?”
He mentally shook himself, pushing down the emotion as best he could.
“Don’t worry about me, darling. Let’s focus on getting you better.”
You frowned, your lips parting as if to say something when the entrance of the tent burst open.
“Hey, thought I heard your voice!” Karlach said, with a beaming smile. “Good to see you awake soldier. Told’em you’d bounce back, just a matter of time. Shadowheart! Gale! Tav’s awake! Astarion is with ‘em.”
Astarion prickled at the announcement. He didn’t need the entire camp knowing his business. He had decided to sneak back for a reason. Surely nobody had seen him.
He got his answer, as Karlach turned back, lowering her voice.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Noticed you slip in earlier. Thought I’d leave you to watch Tav, but then I heard talking and well…you know.”
“Yes, thank you,” he clipped, hoping the note of embarrassment would be blamed on getting caught and not…other things.
“Thanks Karlach,” you said, smoothing over any lingering tension.
“Don’t even think about it. Few more rounds of healing and you’ll be right as rain.” She then turned her gaze to him. “You got’em?”
His brow furrowed slightly. He could say no. Gale and Shadowheart would need space to do their work. It would be the perfect excuse to walk away and try to forget any of this happened.
He glanced down at you, your head still resting in his lap.
You looked so fragile. It was a word he had never thought to use before when describing you. The sound of it rang with a dissonance that made his hair stand on end. Still you managed a half smile, your head tilting as silent permission to leave if he wanted.
And what exactly would he do if he left; wait in the dark, just as helpless as before. He may not be able to do much, but he could do this. It was better than nothing.
He turned back to Karlach, his purpose clear. “I’ve got them.”
She didn’t say anything back, simply nodding in acknowledgement before dipping out, and allowing Shadowheart and Gale to enter.
Shadowheart immediately took a place beside you, her hands glowing with magic as she got to work. Gale, meanwhile, remained standing seemingly unsure of what to do.
Astarion couldn’t help but notice the way the wizard’s eyes shifted awkwardly between you and him. Some petty part of him felt vindicated in staying. Apparently he had taken his designated spot.
“Glad to see you awake,” Shadowheart said.
“So am I, funny enough,” you said. “What happened?”
“Nasty bit of business,” Gale explained. “That hag didn’t hold anything back. Combination of cause fear, ray of sickness, a few other bits of spell work and bestowed curse to keep them all knotted together. The healing magic Shadowheart gave you last night was able to mend your physical wounds, but little else.
“Luckily once we were able to identify the spells, I was able to untangle most of the effects and pluck that curse right out. All told, it looked much worse than it was. With the hag dead, it appears your body has been able to fight off most of the remaining effects on its own. Honestly, if you were at full capacity at the start of the fight, it likely wouldn’t have gotten as bad as it did. Much easier to recover when all your blood is inside your body.”
Gale’s eyes flicked over to Astarion.
His jaw clenched, knowing full well what the wizard was implying, but he wasn’t about to admit he was right.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I take an arrow to the shoulder,” you said, dryly. “Just don’t bleed.”
Shadowheart gave a short laugh. “Good to see your sense of humor is intact.”
Astarion and Gale broke eye contact allowing whatever argument was about to ensue to die on their lips. There were more important things to worry about.
“What can I say, I’m a born entertainer,” you said, ruefully before turning your gaze evenly among the three of them. “I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.”
“No trouble at all,” Gale assured. “When compared to Karlach’s engine or my own condition, this is little more than a sniffle.” He glanced over to Shadowheart. “Anything I can do?”
“Honestly, there’s not much even I can do at this point,” she admitted. “We’ll just have to see how you feel in the morning. One of us should stay with you at least, in case something happens.”
“I’ll do it,” Astarion said, earning shocked looks from both spellcasters. He did so particularly love the look on Gale’s face.
“You’re sure?” Gale said, skeptically.
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not planning to sleep much anyway. And don’t worry, I’m just as capable of yelling as anyone else in this camp. Besides, I doubt either of you are going to be much use to anyone in a few hours.”
Gale looked like he wanted to argue, but not before you spoke up.
“He has a point,” you said. “The pair of you have done enough as is. I’m feeling a lot better already. I’ll be fine.”
“Alright,” Gale relented, with a grimace. “There’s some stew in that container there if you get hungry. See if you can keep some food down. And if they so much as twitch in their sleep–”
“I’ll handle it,” Astarion cut off with a sharpness that left no room for dispute.
Gale appeared taken aback. So did Shadowheart for that matter, but Astarion couldn’t bring himself to care. You had in a very polite, roundabout way told them to leave. His job was to make it clear how much better that would be for everyone’s health.
Both Gale and Shadowheart got the message, ducking out without another word.
Astarion waited, counting down a solid minute to make sure nobody else would come barging in. Only when he was certain they were gone did he finally allow his body to relax.
“You don’t have to stay.”
He pulled his attention back to you, his brows furrowing.
“I really am feeling a lot better,” you insisted. “I’ll be alright.”
His instinct was to argue. He wasn’t in the mood for any more quiet heroics from you, but something in your eyes gave him pause.
“Do you want me to go?” he asked.
“I…” You swallowed. The emotion in your voice was clear even from that one word. “You don’t–”
“Do you want me to go?” he repeated.
For a long moment, you didn’t say a word.
He waited for the predictable guilt to appear, an obvious sign of your irritating selflessness with maybe an apology thrown in on the side. There were hints of it, yes, but something else lingered, moving across your features despite your best efforts to bury it away.
“No,” you confessed, with a yearning deeper than he felt he had any right to know.
He thought back on what you told him, the bits and pieces you shared about your life. It was never obvious, just comments that slipped through, as if by accident.
You didn’t know your mother. Your father was little more than a memory. You never mentioned any siblings. A flurry of names and faces filled your stories from across Faerun, but they never stayed the same between tellings. Now that he gave it proper thought, he couldn’t think of a single one of them you had named friend.
He had to wonder how many nights you suffered through a fever alone, how many times you bandaged your own wounds and kept your own company on long nights in the middle of nowhere.
You hadn’t given him permission to go out of the kindness of your heart. You had expected him to. You just wanted to give yourself the illusion of control over when.
And yet, you asked him to stay.
“Well, that settles it,” he soothed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Your lips parted as if to say something more, but you closed it again swallowing the words back down.
He counted himself grateful. He was liable to say any number of foolish things if you let him.
Slowly, your eyes began to droop as sleep overcame you once more.
As promised, he didn’t move, not daring to so much as shift your head.
Maybe…maybe this was your price. He couldn’t be sure. He doubted he would ever be sure of anything with you, but maybe this was what you wanted; somebody to care.
It was a dangerous notion. He had never provided anything real before. The concern he felt for you now was against his will. If he started caring for you on purpose, who knew where that might lead; the things he would be willing to do, all for you.
He blinked the thought away. He was getting ahead of himself. A little went a long way, especially with you. Honestly, it would be almost too easy; a kind word here, a helpful hand there, and he would have you curled around his finger in no time. It wasn’t so different from what he had done before. All he needed to do was not care anymore than he already did. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He could stop any time he wanted.
It was the thought that kept him through the night, the one he repeated to himself as he came as close to holding you as he dared.
He had a plan now. What could possibly go wrong?
Taglist: @bambamwolf87
#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#bg3#astarion bg3#astarion baldurs gate#asexual!tav#asexual!reader#bard!tav#astarion x ace!tav#astarion x evie
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Gale headcanon Part 2: Wedding Day
Part 1 Here
Galemancers, y’all really liked my first post with all of Gale’s (very likely to be real) wedding planning/day of antics.
I do think this would make for a fun fic and I wanna write it, but yours truly is not in a position to start any new projects at the time being (not saying it will never happen, just right now isn’t a good time!). However, I still wanna add more to this goofy idea of mine.
Here goes!
Wyll giving them lessons for their first dance as a married couple. It’s as hilarious as it is painful to watch. Gale has two left feet and keeps stepping on Tav’s toes. Tav cries out in pain and Gale feels awful so he conjures a rose to apologize.
G: “The Soirées in Waterdeep don’t move with such grand gestures and arduous foot work!” W: “That’s why you asked me to help you, Gale. Baldurs Gate throws magnificent parties.”
Gale keeps reading and rereading spell based cookbooks to try and whip up the reception meal in one fell swoop. He doesn’t trust a caterer and wouldn’t like the taste of anyone’s food but his own.
Tav keeps begging him to let someone else do the work since he’s stressing himself out with these small details, but all Gale does is smile and give Tav a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek.
G: “Don’t worry about me, my love. Our day will be perfect, just like you are.” T: “I don’t want it to be perfect, I just want you to relax and have fun.”
Tav goes to a separate room to sleep the night before and finds their bed adorned with flowers and petals in heart shapes
Tav finds a note beneath all the bed decorations
“My dearest love, I write this with nervous hands and a fast-beating heart - we are almost upon our wedding day. What seems like a grand milestone is only just the beginning of an even more remarkable adventure. Our days of journeying through Faerûn may be over, but it only prepared me for the most important journey of them all: being your husband. You are everything, Tav. You have made me a better man. My connection with you is as innate as mine with magic itself. From this day forward, I will devote the rest of my life to your happiness. The beginning of that chapter is upon us both, and I am nearly bursting (despite my lack of an orb to make it so) in anticipation for it to begin. With utmost love, your soon to be husband - Gale.
Tav won’t be able to sleep so instead they read this letter over and over again 🥰
Gale lets Tav wear whatever they want on their big day and even paid for it
He just wants his bb to be at their happiest and this is the least he can do
Tav ofc hires Figaro the dressmaker and Zara the mummy to do makeup
Gale turning around and seeing his spouse for the first time the day of 🥺
He’s literally unable to breathe when he sees them walking down the aisle, however he is partly relieved because he was still anxious about Tav getting cold feet
Gale tears up as he reads his vows 🥺
Their wedding rings bearing the same gem that Tara has on her collar
Scratch is summoned 🥺 and becomes a permanent member of the Dekarios household, and even gets his own gem at the ceremony 😭
Owlbear gets the distinct honor of being ringbearer. He takes it very seriously. Because he knows he will get a snack for it later.
“Withers I would like to recruit a hireling” says Gale *puts an apron on the hirelings to have them clean up after the guests*
Halsin whittles them a pair of swans with their necks in a heart shape as their wedding gift. It becomes Tav’s most treasured knick knack in the tower.
Lae’zel gifts them a pair of swords, which is probably customary for her but not so much for couples in Faerûn (Gale fashions a coat of arms above the hearth with them anyway)
Astarion: “I am the gift.” 🙄
Tara finally begins to warm up to Tav when she fully realizes that Tav makes a great addition to the Dekarios family
Tara shows this by flying into Tavs lap and rubbing her face against Tav
Lasts for only about 30 seconds however. She can’t be seen letting her guard down to anyone.
The night ends, Gale and Tav retreat back to the tower with full hearts and a gleam in their eyes, proud of all they’d done to build their lives and excited for what comes next.
But there’s still going to be copious amounts of sex that night of course. They barely get past the threshold of the doorway before they’re ripping each other’s clothes off.
They’re drunk, but not just because they’ve had a few drinks. Love drunk, adrenaline drunk, life drunk.
“They deserve this night, after all they’ve been through,” Karlach says to Wyll as they are walking back to the portal to Avernus.
“Some day that will be us,” Wyll replies proudly.
💜
#Gale dreamt of his wedding day since he was a boy ok#gale dekarios#bg3#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#baldur's gate 3#gale x tav#baldurs gate gale#bg3 tav#gale romance#bg3 epilogue#bg3 headcanons#bg3 fic#galemance#gale fic#gale headcanons#tara the tressym#wizard of waterdeep
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WAIT WAIT HERES ONE! All companions drunk off their asses in a karaoke session while Tav is the only sober one😭
•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•
Tav being sober while all the other companions are drunk off their asses in a karaoke session
(I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS HELP HAHAHA)
.
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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION
Says he's only there for the drinks and to watch everyone else make a fool of themselves.
Ends up being part of the people who are being absolute fools of themselves.
He’s the type to say “oh I can’t siNg” only to grab the mic out of your hands and start balling out the lyrics of Bad Romance like it's nobody’s business.
He’s tame at first, enjoying himself as he watches the shitshow unfold but four drinks in and he’s already hoarding the microphone.
I like to think he somehow becomes better at singing the drunker he gets.
Accidentally hits high notes and he makes it everyone's problem.
Probably slapped someone by accident when they were trying to get the microphone back from his drunken ass.
He becomes far more expressive and loud the more he drinks which only makes it all the more fun to be honest.
Tried to have a sing-off with Wyll. Somehow ends up with Astarion threatening to bite him.
: ̗̀➛ GALE
Very confused.
He came here for bonding time with friends only to be surrounded by feral drunks.
He’s definitely not the one singing but Astarion kept giving him wine and he kept drinking and now he’s halfway into either drunk crying or drunk ranting.
He’s the type to start talking about his ex again once drunk.
Had a very informative conversation with the wall.
Fell asleep for about five seconds only to be woken up by the sound of loud screaming into the microphone wonderful singing.
He likes suggesting songs for the group to sing but he's not even including himself in said singing. The least he does is clap his hands.
Remember when I said he’d either drunk cry or drunk rant? Guess what, he’s doing both now and either Halsin or you are trying their damn best to support him.
Try to ask him what he's crying about and he wouldn't even know what the fuck he’s crying about. Proceeds to give you a long instructive speech about the importance of how one pronounces certain spells. (He accidentally activated said spell too).
: ̗̀➛ WYLL
He drank exactly one bottle of alcohol and called it quits. He’s practically as sober as you right now.
The most tame of the group by far but he hardly has any complaints about the chaos, he's having so much fun!
If Astarion isn't hoarding the microphone, he’s the one singing and he’s really good at it. This man can sing and he figured now would be the best time to finally show it.
He’s being as humble as he can but you can tell he’s putting in more effort than he should for a drunken karaoke party.
This man is literally singing each song as if he’s performing his own concert. Ten songs in and somehow his voice box still hasn't given out.
Started having a sing-off with Astarion and he could hardly take it seriously. He wasn’t even drunk but he kept laughing and when he laughs Astarion laughs and they both ended up becoming a mess.
He and Astarion were probably the ones bickering over who’d get to hold the microphone.
However, he always ends up giving the microphone to both because of his gentlemanly ways and this man can't say no to Astarion even if his life fucking depended on it.
HE SANG AN ENTIRE MUSICAL SOUNDTRACK.
: ̗̀➛ KARLACH
SCREAMING INTO THE MICROPHONE.
Don’t ever give her the damn microphone or pick any goddamn song less you want your ears to bleed.
She loves metal/rock songs way too much and she will death metal scream every single word as if she was being dragged back down to the pits of hell.
She’s drunk off her ass as well and it gets worse because she keeps finishing people’s left over drinks.
She’s so unbelievably hyper when she's drunk and in a festive mood that during the whole karaoke session, she broke the damn table.
She laughed so hard right after that for a moment she forgot to fucking breath.
She constantly has to stand up and move about or dance to the music because she just has so much energy in her right now. It's damn well impressive how she somehow never tires.
The thing is, her laugh is contagious so when she starts laughing someone else probably starts laughing as well and it all becomes an even bigger disaster.
Broke the doorknob on her way to head out and grab more drinks.
: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL
Didn't want to be there.
Everyone was so loud and obnoxious that it was honestly a tad bit annoying for her. She could have been doing something far more productive and instead-
Never mind that, now she's having a drinking contest with Shadowheart in the midst of all the screaming and singing.
Where did the shot glasses go?! Oh, its with her.
Suddenly, taking multiple shots of alcohol will help improve her tolerance to an array of different substances that may pose a threat to her bodily autonomy. That’s an excuse, she just doesn't want to seem unproductive.
Not the one singing at all but she keeps finishing the bottles before anyone else can even get a taste of them.
Surprisingly, she has a really high alcohol tolerance. She’d probably be 10 shots in and still appear as sober as you.
Though, please take the liquor away from her as soon as possible. When she actually gets drunk two things happen. She either becomes more aggressive than she ever was before or even worse, she becomes nicer.
Amidst it all, you may see a snicker or two come out of her, one that she’d be trying so hard to hide. Truth be told, she would have grown to love her chaotic bunch of weirdo friends and she wouldn't have regretted a thing.
: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART
Actually one of the people singing! When Astarion and Wyll aren't battling it out over the microphone of course.
Depending on her current mood, she's either going all out on Mitski songs or rocking it out with Karlach.
There is no damn way she went through the karaoke session without singing Washing Machine Heart.
Before she could sing another song, she was ever so quickly pulled into a drinking match with Lae’zel in which the winner was undetermined; because Karlach broke the damn table with the shot glasses on it.
There is no damn way she went through the karaoke session without singing Bring Me To Life, part 2.
When she gets really drunk she either becomes louder or eerily quiet.
She’ll just quietly sit in the corner and watch and sometimes it's just the creepiest thing ever.
But in the cases where she does get loud, she’s off laughing her ass off over the chaos unfolding right before her eyes. She would have been talking shit along with Astarion if it weren't for the fact that he was quite literally having a wrestling match with Wyll over the microphone.
Probably fell asleep after a while and somehow never woke up until the next day.
: ̗̀➛ HALSIN
Very confused 2.0.
He tries to refrain from drinking as much as possible because he knows just how embarrassing he becomes so he kind of just smiles and sits there during the first half.
Besides he really doesn't want to burden you with having to be the only sober person in the party.
The least he’d be doing is very subtly dancing to the beat. Do you know how dads would do those little awkward dances during parties? Exactly that.
Either you, Shadowheart, or Astarion coaxed him into finally drinking and things began to go downhill from there.
The thing is, when he drinks, he can drink a lot, it's just that he prefers not to. However, the real reason he can drink a lot is that he forgets to set a limit for himself especially when his mind is so scattered.
Became oddly clingy towards you in ways that you’d never expect. Suddenly he’s blurting out random things he feels about you and the others in the most wholesome way imaginable.
If it isn't you, he’s confessing his “”undying love”” to the first person he sees.
Stared at a plant for five minutes.
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#bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 headcanon#bg3 headcanons#bg3 astarion#bg3 wyll#bg3 gale#bg3 karlach#bg3 lae’zel#bg3 shadowheart#bg3 halsin#astarion#wyll#gale#karlach#lae’zel#shadowheart#halsin#bg3 x reader
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Naïveté
Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!
Pairing: Astarion x f!tav
Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺
WC: 2k
a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!
It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.
The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big.
You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?
Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”
There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant.
You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.
“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal.
Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”
“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”
Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”
Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.
Dancing, however, came second nature.
You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”
He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray.
“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.
“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”
He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.
So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.
* * *
Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”
Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”
“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”
Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”
“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”
“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”
Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”
So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.
* * *
You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.
You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day.
“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.
You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it
If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”
“Strategizing?”
“Precisely.”
The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.
“How old are you?”
His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”
“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”
“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.
“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”
“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”
“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”
“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.
“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”
He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”
You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”
“You come from nobility.”
“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”
“What were you supposed to be?”
“A wife, I guess.”
“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”
My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors.
“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”
“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”
“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”
You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”
“I’ll… keep that in mind.”
There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.
#astarion x reader#astarion#baldurs gate 3#astarion x tav#astarion bg3#astarion ancunin#astarion romance
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T'ill I Go Blind
Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader
Word count: 2.2k
Summary: When Gortash reveals details about your past relationship, Astarion refuses to entertain any of it.
Warnings: OOC Astarion, angst, mentions of truama, mentions of death, jelous Astarion, Gortash, fluff, Humor, Astarion of course making a few out of pocket comments, Scared Astarion
A/N: It's basically cannon at this point that Gortash and the Durge are exes or had something going on, so enjoy my depiction of just how their first meeting after so long would be like.
Who would have thought that you would find yourself standing in Baldur’s Gate, face-to-face with Gortash, who gazes at you with surprising tenderness? "Well, isn't it my favorite assassin? It has been too long since we indulged in each other's presence," he remarks. You raise a quizzical brow as your arms fold over your chest, leaning against the protective metal.
"Ah, yes. How could I forget? You lack the memories of what we once shared. A shame, truly. Your father never was one for the ideals of... affection." You resist the urge to let your jaw drop at his words, while Wyll stifles a laugh beside you.
"I'm sorry, but you're telling me you and Tav had some sort of connection?" he asks, looking between both of you. Beside you, Karlach goes stiff, and you reach out through your connected minds, assuring her that you have no clue about the nonsense the man is spouting. Upon your words, she visibly relaxes, folding her arms and shifting to stand a step in front of you, ready to protect you from the person she once trusted if need be.
"We did, in fact, have a connection, and that connection was the reason why your friend now has no memory of who she is," Gortash states, a frown appearing on his lips. "Her father felt threatened by the idea that his perfect assassin was falling for someone, so why not punish those who fell into forbidden love." From beside you, a sudden gag sounds, and Astarion clears his throat.
"I do apologize, but that had to be the most sickening thing I've ever heard, and I don't mean the fact that her father stripped away her memories." It's hard to suppress a laugh at Astarion's words, especially since you can feel the jealousy radiating off of him. Astarion is what you'd call a cat; he thrives when affection is given on his terms, but he is quite territorial with things that belong to him. In this case, you are that thing—mind, body, and soul. You are his human, and he would rather tear the world to shreds than give you up.
Reaching back, your fingers gently brush against him, and he seizes the opportunity to interlace his fingers with yours. A sense of safety and confidence washes over you as his hand firmly holds yours. Gortash, observant of the interaction, advances toward both of you, prompting a tenseness in your body.
"I see you've found a replacement, Little Flower," he remarks. The use of that nickname freezes you, causing your body to stiffen as memories flood your mind. Flashbacks of your younger self and Gortash flow through your consciousness. Despite the rugged and worn-down appearance, Gortash possessed qualities that rendered him remarkably handsome. In the recollection, you both stood in the middle of a flower field, having sneaked off after some convincing. He delicately placed a flower in your hair, affectionately uttering the same nickname.
Gortash notices the recognition in your eyes, prompting him to smile at Astarion. "Seems she remembers that exchange very well. The kiss we shared sealed our promise to one another. Yes, you two are quite...adorable, but let her stay where she belongs. It won't be long until your little romance disappears when her memories return."
Astarion vibrates with anger, and all you can do is squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. Gortash attempts to provoke him in a way he knows best, wanting to witness the dissolution of the bond you share. However, Astarion surprises everyone. Instead of reacting impulsively, he closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and regulates the tightness of his grip around your hand. He's wrestling with the urge to draw his knife and thrust it into Gortash's chest.
Your chest swells with pride at how far Astarion has come from the first encounter when he held a dagger to your throat. "I'll never let her go, not until she tells me to. And when she does, I'll do everything in my power to protect her from a distance because she doesn't deserve to revert to the life she once lived. Not when she's worked so hard to build herself a new life. Not when she's almost killed herself fighting the demons that claw at her, begging to escape."
A snort escapes Gortash as he listens to Astarion's words. "To think someone as powerful as you settled for that," he spits, redirecting his gaze toward you. "Have your fun, Little Flower, but as much as I would love to bring up the past and the memories we share, I have other matters to discuss with you," Gortash states, pacing around the room. "Your sister is stirring up trouble and making things difficult. Her newfound thirst for power after you left is creating tension in my city." You know precisely who he is referring to. In your few encounters with Orin, she made it clear that you both shared the same father.
"What Orin does is none of my concern. If she's hell-bent on trying to take something I don't even want, then let her. I don't know what kind of life I lived before this, but I don't want any part of it. I was given a second chance to finally live, and I won't be ruining that over some family drama," you shrug. You notice Karlach adopting a look of approval at your words. Seeing Gortash again is tough for her, especially now that you know you apparently had some kind of relationship before waking up on the ship.
Gortash sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nods. "Yes, yes, I quite understand what you are saying. You're breaking free from those torturous chains, but your family matters affect the lives of those in Baldur's Gate. I don't care if you are sweeping your matters under the rug, but I want you to kill her. Take out Orin and bring me her stone, and when you do, I'll assist you in defeating the Elder Brain." Something about his words is taunting, making you question the truth of his alliance with you. Almost as if sensing your doubt, he leans against the table behind him.
"I do not wish to fool you; I don't stand for the loss of innocent lives. Orin is out of control, and the brain will wreak havoc if given the chance. If we can control the brain, we can destroy it."
Your mind races as you consider the situation. Releasing a defeated sigh, you clench your jaw, allowing your face to fall into a blank stare. "Fine, I'll kill her." The sound of your group protesting fills the room, echoing off the walls. Gortash only smiles at your words, letting his eyes lock onto yours as your friends attempt to talk some sense into you. After a few minutes, Gortash dismisses you and leaves the room.
Your companions follow behind you, attempting to get your attention before Karlach finally speaks up. "Tav, stop walking away. You know what he did to me and the hell I've lived through. Accepting his offer is a betrayal to me, so you better explain. If you don't, then I have no choice but not to trust you or to stay in the group." Her words hit you hard. She was like your sister, a reason for you to live.
"I'm playing him at his own game. We saw the power these stones had over the brain when we fought Thorm, meaning he had plans for them when he got them all to himself. Trust me, Karlach, I don't trust him either, but we need to take advantage of this. He could be the key to leading us right to the brain so we can destroy it, so I can save all of us," you whisper, looking up at your friend.
Karlach meets your eyes, searching them as if trying to detect any lies in your words. So, you open your mind to her, letting her read your intention with Gortash. Silence fills the area around your group as they wait for Karlach's response. "I trust you," she finally says, sending you a bright smile. You let out a breath of relief at her words as Astarion walks up beside you. You could feel how tense he felt, and you immediately knew something was wrong.
Things between the group had gotten tense after you entered Baldur's Gate. You felt the urge calling to you more than ever before; Astarion was only steps away from having to see Cazador again, and Karlach finally had to come face to face with the person she trusted her life with and who stabbed her in the back. Sending him a look, he nods slightly before looking away. It was a silent communication that you two would be talking when you got back to camp, and you could only hope this wouldn't end in a fight between you two.
---
Upon your arrival, you couldn't help but notice how Astarion immediately headed toward a shaded area. Jaheira spoke quietly to you about matters that needed attention in the city, but your gaze remained fixed on your lover. Jaheira fell silent before laughing quietly, drawing your attention back to her. "You two are quite fond of one another. Go to him; you've been worried about him since the walk back," she said, patting your arm soothingly. Nodding in gratitude, you walked towards Astarion.
He sat on the ground, gazing up at the sky, with rays of sunshine warming his face through the leaves. Stopping behind him, you were unsure of how to initiate the conversation between the two of you. "Star," you said, your voice carried by the slight breeze swirling around you. You sensed him tense, knowing that the forthcoming discussion would likely be tense as well.
With his back to you, he leaned his arms on his knees, shifting his gaze ahead. "So, you were the one involved with the absolute and why we're like this," he stated. Your heart dropped as you looked down. Indeed, you were. Your memories flooded back when you entered Wyrm’s Crossing, remembering who you were, who your father was, and what he wanted you to carry out.
"As angry as I want to be with you, I can't. I know what it's like to feel trapped under a command without being able to escape. I mean, look at what Cazador made me do. I want to be angry, but I just can't," he continued, and your shoulders dropped as you listened to his words. "But that's not why I'm questioning things. Not us; I could never question us. What I'm questioning is what will happen when you fully regain your memory. You and Gortash obviously have something, or rather had something. He talked to you like he was seeing his lover all over again. He looked at you like he was undressing you, ready to show our group of lovely friends that you still belong to him."
There it was—the feeling of your heart shattering in your chest as you listened to his words. He was terrified of losing you, and you had no idea how to reassure him that you're his.
Moving to stand in front of him, you drop to your knees and gently grasp his face in your hands. Opening and closing your mouth, no words escape you. Lost in his eyes—those crimson-red orbs that appear scared and broken—a part of you feels angry, angry at yourself and angry at Gortash for dredging up a past you have no memory of, a past you never want to revisit.
“I meant it when I told you that you mean a lot to me, Star,” you finally say, brushing your thumbs against his cheek. “You’re my entire world. You stayed by my side when the urge wracked my body, when I attempted to take your life that night. You didn’t judge me when it got so bad I caved and harmed an innocent person. You held me and told me that I could beat those urges. You saved me, Astarion, and I will not be leaving you.” His tears begin to pool under the pad of your thumb as you speak.
“Losing my memory was my second chance at life, and then I met you. You gave me something worth living for. Hells, all of our friends did, and I refuse to go back to that life I once lived. I don’t want to be a killer, and I don’t want to be his daughter. I want to be my own person. I want to be able to make my own decisions and control my own body and mind. So, my little Star, I won’t be going anywhere because my home is right here by your side.”
You can tell your words have moved him in some way as he is now fully sobbing. Pulling him to you, you let his head fall onto your chest as you allow him to fall apart in your arms. The fear that plagued him during your meeting with Gortash finally leaves him as he deflates in your embrace. Soon, his sobs quieten, and you both lie under the tree, his arms wrapped tightly around you, almost as if he fears you will disappear if he lets go. In that moment, a peaceful and intimate moment, three words are finally shared between you two. In that moment, you vow to destroy Cazador and show him what true power is. In that moment, the urge claws at your insides, begging to be unleashed, and soon enough, you will let it take over your very being.
#dnd elves#high elves#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#bg3#astarion romance#astarion bg3#baldurs gate 3#astarion headcanon#astarion headcanons#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion x reader#tav x astarion#astarion x f!tav#bg3 fic#astarion drabble#astarion fic#bg3 tav#astarion ancunin#fanfiction#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate#shadowheart#wyll ravengard#gale dekarios#karlach#gale of waterdeep#lae'zel
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Do you happen to have respec advice for other characters apart from Wyll?
Heya, thanks for asking! ❤ Here's what I like to run the other companions on.
Shadowheart: Light Cleric all 12 levels. She becomes a beast using Spirit Guardians, Fireball and Guiding Bolt. Also ridiculous overpowered in act 2. Give her Lathander's Mace and win.
Lae'zel: Battlemaster Fighter 12. Or if you don't like extra buttons, Champion Fighter 12 is great too. Fighter is a fantastic beginner class imo.
Astarion: Thief Rogue 4/Gloomstalker Ranger 5/Champion Fighter 3. You want the double attack from ranger, the action surge and ofc all that sweet lockpick proficiency. Give him a bow, he'll destroy everything.
Gale: Fighter 2/Abjuration Wizard 10. Finally that poor man not only has some good defenses, he smacks hard too. No more lying on the ground for him. (credit to nix on discord for this bc I was struggling lol)
Karlach: Open Hand Monk 8/Thief Rogue4 hits like a truck and imo fits Karlach. But Berserker Barbarian 8/Thief Rogue 4 where you throw all the things is also very good. I keep forgetting to buy weapons hence why I went with monk 🤣
Minthara: MUST have Thief Rogue 3. Soul Branding is stupidly good not to cast on everyone and only costs a bonus action. You can give her Paladin 9, Fighter 9 or build her exactly like Astarion.
Halsin: Storm Sorc 1/Land Druid 11 has my heart right now because of all the nice spells and mobility. However I am currently experimenting with a Moon Druid build bc I do feel Halsin is at heart a Moon Druid. Will post if I find one I like.
Jaheira: Same as Halsin, who I feel is at heart a Land Druid. Land Druid 12 also is great if you want those super high level spells.
Minsc: Berserker Barbarian 8/Thief Rogue 4 is his thing, let's be real. Let him be the Mad Man and throw everything.
#bg3 builds#gale#jaheira#minsc#halsin#minthara#karlach#astarion#shadowheart#lae'zel#ask regarding Wyll's build post hence why he isn't in the list
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soothe this soul.
RATING: mature [canon themes] — LENGTH: 2,976 — Gale x DarkUrge [gn!reader]
CONTENT: hurt/comfort, trauma, set during act I after the goblin camp before adventuring onward, fluff [gentle touching, hand holding], self-harm, Gale talking Durge through big feelings, canon-accurate dark urge memory loss, mentions of corpses/blood, no pronouns used but reader is described as having nails/claws
Gale offers you peace in a moment of darkness.
Quiet is what you needed tonight - you'd decided that hours ago, practically the moment the day had started. Still not managing to get a complete night of sleep and increasingly unable to silence the depraved thoughts in your mind, just an hour beside the water of this camp before the adventure continued on tomorrow would have done you some good.
At least that was the conclusion you'd come to for yourself. Fate seemed to have other plans for your time, however.
Or perhaps it was the will of one singular man.
“I have noticed you often skip over introductions…”
There was something soothing about his voice that even you were not immune too, his gentle nature balancing your violent one like cool waters on a raging flame. If it was going to be anyone interrupting your alone time now, it was befitting to be him, at least. If it had been anyone else, who knows what the consequences could've been.
“Please, not now.”
Your voice was marred with the kind of pain he was familiar with - ever-present, unignorable. Spoken through gritted teeth, your lack of patience was evident in every syllable. He'd never tell you he pitied you, but that didn't make the statement true.
“Forgive my insistence…” his dulcet tone filled your ears like the flow of a river, sustaining and forever. If his words could replace the urges perhaps some of your problems would subside. “But if not now, then when? We can all tell you’re avoiding something. Wyll and I agree that -“
“It is wonderful to hear I am the topic of camp gossip."
“It’s not like that,” you didn't know previously that one human could sound so believable - so honest. Though some of your other companions had taken him hiding his condition as a lie you never had, understanding his reasoning and trusting him through it all. You had no reason not to trust him now. “We care. For you. I care for you a great deal. I see how it…whatever it is…wounds you and festers at your soul each time we are somewhere new.”
“What is your point?”
The defense mechanism like a rose's thorns - if they didn't get close enough they couldn't be hurt, and your sharp demeanor was without a doubt a way of keeping everyone far enough away from you to keep their blood from spilling.
Gale, with increasing insistence of late, seemed determined to feel the softness you could offer too - he could see it in the depths of your eyes, just within his reach. He'd not stop until he earned the chance to be delicate with you.
“That I want to know you,” even now he was so delicate - had anyone ever been so with you before? “That I want to help.”
You could've drowned in the pools of sincerity in his eyes.
It had been hard to hide Alfira, and even harder since not to come clean to Gale - with each passing moment it was increasingly difficult to ignore the new urge that had formed within your being, a new desire that influenced your decisions. You craved something you were almost certain was new - connection - and you yearned for it with him.
Honesty was the first step - in these things, it always was. With Gale, you were fortunate to have seen in the darkness that festered within him when he allowed you a glimpse at the Orb, feeling the familiarity of a deep abyss. Though you were quite certain the darkness within you was much worse, much more primal and instinctual in ways he could never be, it was some comfort that he could look at you like this now - sweating, shaking, and neglecting to give his words a fitting response - and hardly bat an eye.
But how long would that be the case if you opted for complete honesty, and at this point could you even stop it? If allowing him to see into the void was inevitable, why deny what came closer with each tick of a clock?
A deep breath prepared your lungs for speaking truths into the night that you wished to keep buried in the depths of your wretched, dark heart.
“You've heard me introduce myself as The Dark Urge. That is all I can remember of myself. I crave murder and death and…corpses. Piles of my victims bruised and bloody displayed like a museum…crimson pools running warm then cold…"
Your words trailed as you clenched your eyelids tight, your nails beginning to dig into the tops of your thighs, seeking the focus that sharp pain would bring - so deep that blood quickly began to paint the tips of your fingers and your thighs.
You often felt Gale's bravery was to be commended, far more than it was by your companions. He'd never seen combat, never needed to face violence head on and take it for what it was. And yet, despite his inexperience he was still fearless with you, one of his gentle hands reaching out to lightly rest atop your shoulder.
Taken off guard your nails stopped their assault on your own skin, eyes wide as your puzzled face met his - patient, understanding, eyes soft and lips pressed into a thoughtful line as he awaited you to fully return to yourself.
"But though my mind is overrun with voids and seldom dreams up more than pools of blood…I want to be more than that. I think I am more than that…or that I once was, perhaps.”
It felt wrong to speak against the Urges, like you were lying to yourself and pretending to be someone your instincts proved you weren't, but it was the truth - it was you, no matter how deep within you had to pull it from. Gale, no stranger to darkness within and the chasm of emotions it could construct in one's heart, recognized how hard it must be for you to be vulnerable - after all, he had been in that very position merely days ago.
“I think you’re more than that already, despite everything. And if you disagree then we shall work together to make you see yourself the way I do."
Every sentence he spoke was saturated in a promise renewed with each word. You could feel the pull of your eyebrows coming together tighter, an expression that would do nothing to aid the headache that raged within your skull, but the only one your face could settle on as you pondered what you'd done to deserve such a kindness.
If you did even deserve it.
"I’ll help you. Through any urge along the way, say the word and I am at your side."
You remained utterly speechless under the power of his words, your expression still every bit as pained and puzzled than it had been when he first interrupted your time alone. What bravery it took - the same echoed now as his hand covered yours atop one of your thighs, the warmth seeping into you, wrapping you like a blanket during shock.
A quiet sigh passed your lips, defeated and communicating so much more than what your words could. A gentle squeeze to your hand, the softening of his eyes - you'd not be surprised if this was some sort of spell, if you didn't know better.
“I just don’t know how many more people I can introduce myself to this way,” as you finally met his eyes in full he was struck by the sight of tears sparkling in your eyes, the façade abandoned allowing him to hear the shake to your voice as your breathing picked up. “You apologized for your improper introduction, yet it is I who can’t even remember something as fundamental as my name. I know I have one, I can feel the echo of it in my mind…but it's just not there. Or perhaps I was a monster never deserving of one.”
For all of your companions' issues, Gale knew that what you faced was unlike anything any of them could relate to. Being unable to remember something as basic as your name and only experiencing your past in bloody glimpses of wicked memories - there was nothing he could say, so instead he listened.
"And I worry that I will hurt one of you," each word pained you more than the last, each one adding to the risk that he would leave - that he would come to his senses and see you for what you were. He certainly seemed to be trying, judging by the intensity with which he continued to gaze into your eyes. "That I'll hurt…you, Gale. I don't want to hurt you."
Sympathy - feelings of pity or sorrow for someone else's misfortune. You could see it filling his eyes as he squeezed your hand again, moving closer without hesitation so his free hand could raise to your face. He caught a freshly falling tear with his thumb, a delicate touch you recoiled from, your eyes wild with question and panic for a moment before they glazed over, warming under his touch though you remained so frozen you weren't breathing.
Sympathy was joined by patience and hope in his eyes, and he waited, hoping. Unimposing and unintimidating, free of judgment - willing to be so until you gave a sign to be anything otherwise.
A stiff nod was good enough.
His hand cupped your cheek fully, the feeling of your skin against his always enough to bring the softest of smiles to his face, no matter how fleeting it was. Cherishing the new feeling for a moment he did little more than that beyond the gentle stroke of his thumb across your cheek for several moments.
No monster he had read of melted so under the touch of a human - leaning into his touch further, you continued to prove he was right about you.
"We all have monsters inside of us. That doesn't mean it's who we are," admittedly, it was hard for even him to find the right words right now - particularly with his focus on you, the warmth of your skin against his hand, the way your jaw was unclenching and your features calming. A quick glance confirmed you no longer clutched your leg, and for a moment your hands were not shaking - because of him. "And it's not who I think you are. No matter what your name is, no matter who you once were: I see you."
A sentiment echoed in your mind - had you ever been cared for like this? Whatever the truth to that question was, you could feel how addicting it could be to be soothed by him.
“You must be tired,” it was a lazy - and obvious - interruption, a distraction from falling much further into his delicate grasp, parts of your mind still fighting against vulnerability, an instinct that had probably always been within you not to trust trying to set you on edge again. “I don’t want to keep you from rest.”
If he was aware of the hint you dropped in trying to return yourself to solitude, he opted to ignore it - not out of disrespect for your wishes but in hope you'd change your mind, hoping his presence could offer an enticing alternative.
If offering his presence to you would bring you any amount of comfort, he had to try. If it meant he'd have to bashfully ask Shadowheart for healing before sleep found him - so be it.
“Your company is well worth a little less sleep,” he desperately hoped you wouldn't mind that he was trying to lighten the mood - when your features curled into the slightest smile, he decided it was actually what you needed. Whatever you needed of him, whenever you needed it. How funny his very soul had adopted that new mantra so fast. “Or a lot, depending on the evening’s activities. I'd be grateful to enjoy your company a while longer, if mine isn't unwanted."
Your smile spread a bit more, cheeks heating up over his flirtations, your heart fluttering faster in your chest as you avoided his gaze briefly, taking the steady breath your lungs had been begging for, repeating it once more for measure. He matched the second with you - just another way to show he was here with you, supporting you.
Even still, you could only nod your response for fear of the words that may leave your mouth if you opened it.
The thing about Gale - the thing that made it more near impossible with each day he displayed it - was that as much as he loved to tell you what he could offer you he loved to show you even more, even if it meant sitting in complete silence for the next couple of hours. The time passed calmly with him beside you like this, offering you a pillar of strength to lean yourself upon in both a figurative and literal sense, his warm hold irresistible.
He accepted you leaning your head against his shoulder as quietly as you offered it, wordlessly deepening the embrace by wrapping an arm around you. If that was all that was offered you'd not hear a complaint from him, the gentle affection more than enough to fill his stomach with butterflies and heart with what he hesitated to call love.
When one of your hands lifted to rest on his thigh, the hesitation was gone. Love - at its most basic definition, an intense feeling of deep affection. How could he even attempt to describe the way he felt toward you with any other word, not yet finding one in the many books throughout his life that would describe the feeling nestled in his chest as sufficiently.
The sun sparkling against the water turned to stars dancing across its surface instead, the noise of your companions behind you fading as what was clearly hours passed. Your eyes had been closed for a while now, so long that you didn't notice - or at least didn't move - when Wyll had approached with food, unknowing that Gale silently waved him off.
There would be food in the morning, his stomach could wait if that was the sacrifice for your comfort. Comfort which he hated to disrupt - though after a while, the hard ground was far too unkind to his aching joints.
"Are you ready to try for some rest?"
Your eyes opened and you twisted your head to look behind you, at the very companions who were now settling onto their own bedrolls or into their tents for the night. Even in the dim light he could see the trepidation in your face, sense the tension thickening the air around you again.
How desperately he wished to resolve it, offering the only solution his heart could think of before his mind could catch up.
"Perhaps alone tonight…in my tent, beside me?"
The Wizard of Waterdeep blushed the moment the proposition left his mouth, and you'd fallen for him all over again. You nodded, and in that moment gave him everything he needed as a thank you from you.
You were both exhausted, so the motions of returning to Gale's tent blurred together - he stood first, offering his hand to you and pulling you to your feet, hand staying in yours as you walked through camp. He shot Astarion a look of warning when the Pale Elf raised his eyebrow when you walked past, entering Gale's tent without a word.
Explanations would certainly be expected in the morning, a fact made clear by the vampire's expression as Gale collected your bedroll before joining you in the solitude of his tent, closing the flap to separate the two of you for a while. Soon enough, you'd both found what felt at least a little like a word that made you both feel sick for profoundly different reasons - home - as you lay beside one another.
It was a longing gaze - you were desperate to hold his eyes in the hopes you'd see them tonight in your dreams rather than debauched things you hoped weren't memories, while he was desperate to memorize your face as he remained ever-aware of the looming apocalypse in his own chest.
A pair of your hands met between your bodies, his resting atop yours, calming the subtle and ever-present shake. Thumb brushing against your knuckles, he lulled you back into a subdued state, happily indulging you when you asked him to tell you a bedtime story from Waterdeep.
Though he spoke, he was the one to drift off first, blissfully so beside you. No matter how safe it felt to be beside Gale, no matter how much warmth filled every bone in your body - sleep would still avoid you for a while yet, and you'd be left with your thoughts and his sleeping form.
As the night continued to grow darker, as would your heart — if you even had one — and mind. It was dangerous to tempt nature like this, a steak dangled on a stick before a wolf. He would make the prettiest corpse - his own blood would paint his skin like the fine canvas it was and you'd view it as the exhibit it was, art in a museum entirely curated for you. How beautiful he would look, how sublime, how utterly delicious…
Ultimately, the urge to see him lying beneath you as a beautiful, wide-eyed body was quieter than the urge to see his eyes honey in the fire and the tousle of his morning hair as he passed you breakfast, expression eager to see your reaction to a meal prepared by him. You'd sooner remove your own hands before you used them to hurt him.
Seeing his chest rise and fall as he slept tonight and hearing the ring of his laughter tomorrow was worth far more than anything your sick mind tried to force you to see.
masterlist.
baldur's gate III masterlist.
#gale dekarios#gale bg3#gale x dark urge#gale x durge#gale fanfic#baldur's gate 3 fanfiction#gale x reader#gale dekarios x reader#gale dekarios x dark urge#gale dekarios fanfiction
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Hey there! You're one of the best Gale-ish devnotes\datamines sources that I know of, so I might as well ask. I remember that at some point Gale mentions taking part in Blackstaff Academy balls (or something like that). Is it mentioned elswhere, and do we have any details on his involvement in such activities? Need that for science\personal lore, and I'd appreciate any info (including EA), if you have time. Thanks!
thank you for your message and i'm sorry for the belated response!
i took my time to comb through everything and sadly, the banter with wyll is the only instance i could find of gale mentioning a ball at blackstaff academy:
gale & the annual blackstaff's ball
gale: i knew you were a graceful man, wyll, but i hear you're quite the dancer too.
gale: i've been known to trip the light fantastic myself. mine was a popular hand at the annual blackstaff's ball.
wyll: i'd have love to have witnessed it, gale. i wager you are as elegant on the dance floor as you are on the battlefield.
the only other banters i could find that are only loosely related. some give us glimpses into his life at the academy, others into his life in waterdeep.
here's another story about gale & being a young student at blackstaff academy, which triggers in the wizard tower in the underdark:
gale & the death slaad
gale: ah. quite. a misadventure from my days as an apprentice at blackstaff academy.
gale: i was but a child, only a few months into my studies, but already i knew i was destined for greatness. no one believed me, of course, so i decided to prove it. to cast a spell with the blackstaff itself.
gale: from one perspective, i succeeded. i opened a portal. however, instead of pointing it at the first year dormitory, i found myself pulled into limbo, facing a very irritated death slaad.
gale: fortunately, the blackstaff himself came to the rescue, hauling me back from the brink, and straight into several months of writing lines. or rather, finessing my autograph.
gale: now, much as i enjoy reminiscing about such tomfoolery, i believe we've more pressing matters at hand. is there anything else?
this dialogue path from the epilogue has him speaking a bit more about those days as well:
gale & his days as a wayward apprentice
gale: teaching at blackstaff academy has proven such an unexpected pleasure. sometimes i find it hard to tear myself away.
gale: just one of the myriad unexpected ways life has delighted me in recent months.
gale: even my own city feels new to me, now that i share it with you.
player: probably because i make you put down your quill once in a while and enjoy it.
gale: that you do. i've not had so much fun in waterdeep since my own days as a wayward blackstaff apprentice.
gale: you've certainly made quite the impression on my friends down at the yawning portal. the last i heard, they were thinking of naming a drink after you.
while he seems to have enjoyed a much richer social life in waterdeep before his time of isolation, it's mentioned in another epilogue banter (devnotes) that he didn't seek out any of the more dangerous parts of the city.
there are also other banters about gale's life in waterdeep before the game:
gale & the temple of beauty in waterdeep
gale: i must tell you, shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired.
gale: the ablutions offered at the temple of beauty in waterdeep are far superior. and they have the most excellent soaps.
shadowheart: hmm. i was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager.
gale & spending time in the hospice of st. laupsenn
wyll: this was a hospital? feels more like a prison.
gale: a common enough interpretation. sickness has a nasty habit of making you feel trapped, if only within the confines of your body.
gale: i once spent weeks convalescing in the hospice of st. laupsenn after a nasty bout of ruddy pox. for all their kindness, leaving that place behind felt like freedom to me.
wyll: i’ve always relied on the kindness of the healers and menders of the coast. better a cleric’s healing touch than a chirurgeon’s scalpel.
gale & florist
lae'zel: these flowers are quite vivid - not to mention, pungent. not to my liking.
gale: are there no flowers in tu'narath?
lae'zel: in the city of death, the mlar cultivate the fruiting bodies that sprout from the corpses of the slain.
gale: i'd rather get them from my florist in waterdeep, if it's all the same to you.
i'm also including this banter between wyll and gale here because it speaks (even if somewhat joking) about his upbringing as a whole by morena:
wyll: i admire your courage, gale.
gale: thank you. any particular reason?
wyll: between the orb and the bug, you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers.
gale: what can i say? mother always taught me to be a gracious host.
we also know that he has had multiple tutors:
lae'zel: you strike me cleverer than most istiki, gale. multiple tutors, i should guess.
gale: many a wise man and woman indeed. waterdeep is the home of myriad scholars.
wyll: ah, the city of splendours. spent a whole fleetswake there with my father. what a delight.
hiring tutors appears to be relatively common in waterdeep:
so while this sadly wasn't what you were looking for, i hope this is helpful to some degree! 🖤
#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#baldur's gate 3#bg3#baldurs gate 3#ch: gale dekarios#vg: baldur's gate 3#series: baldur's gate#meta: mybg3#text: asks
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Okay, BG3 fandom, I have had sweet thoughts and would like to share them; Companions reacting to Tavs hiding an injury until they couldn't keep it to themselves anymore/the companions put together that they're hurting. (Companions aren't romanced, but GETTING there)
Tooth rotting fluff in a text wall under the cut, enjoy
Lae'zel -
Lae'zel is annoyed, but in the "Don't fight me when I'm trying to love you without saying it" kind of way. She'll say "This isn't battle strategic, there is no advantage this offers us" but the whole camp knows what she means while she aggressively dresses your wound and tells you to stop whining. If Tav wakes up in the middle of the night to find her guarding their tent like a loyal dog, they didn't see anything as far as she cares.
Shadowheart -
Similarly to Lae'zel, Shadowheart is a little annoyed, but Shadowheart can admit she's worried. "You should have told me. I'd have taken care of this immediately" She tells Tav, healing the wound with a small prayer. She makes them promise to say something in the future, even if only for her sake. "This journey has been treacherous. I'd like the one good thing that's come of it to survive with me"
Wyll -
"Promise me you're not going to make a habit of that" He insists, dressing your wounds with a tense expression. "I'd like you to flourish at my side. And I can't be certain you're doing that when you hide things like this." He admits, apparent worry in his voice, gentle movements, a warning for every touch. He's a hard man to feel uncomfortable around. Tav can practically feel the care radiating off him with every patient smile.
Karlach -
She gives Tav the least flack for keeping it to yourself. "Woah soldier, let's take a break and look at that, yeah?" She suggests, keeping the worry out of her voice quite well. She knows they're hiding it for a reason and tries not to make them feel worse for failing to hide it. She just tries to make Tav as comfortable as possible so they might feel at ease enough to tell her next time.
Gale -
The man basically mothers Tav through the healing process. Insists they're off their feet, won't budge on Tav resting and cleans their wounds and changes bandages around the clock. "As much peril as we are in every day, I'd like if you kept even the smaller injuries out in the open." He explains one night. "As small as any harm seems when compared to impending ilithid doom, it's still harm. Much more, it's harm we can fix. Harm I'd like to fix. Ah- assuming you'll let me"
Astarion -
Sounds inconvenienced, will not sit still while you're unwell. He'll hang around and poke fun but won't let them get up for anything. "I mean, how have you even managed that" he says, handing Tav fresh water. "I know you're clumsy, but surely you could have avoided that" he chuckles, handing you another book to draw in/read. "I'll remember this next time you say you have an idea" He rolls his eyes cutting up food and feeding them personally. Anyone asks? "Well, I can't just let them suffer can I? They'll never shut up"
Bonus! (Our older folks)
Halsin -
"That looks painful...you needn't be in pain you know, I can carry you quite easily" He offers. If Tav truly doesn't want help, he can't/won't make them, but he will hover and puppy-dog-eyes at them until they cave. The man will let Tav use him for warmth in the night while they recover and carry them to the pond to bathe as well. Really, Tav could ask anything of him, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
Jaheira -
"I don't even send Harpers out in that condition if I can help it. You'll sit and relax, yes?" She says. Not asks, because she's not asking. "I mean, what if this got infected, or started swelling? Would you just wait for death like a bird falling out of the sky?" She rolls her eyes playfully. She doesn't hesitate to ask for help on Tavs behalf either. "If they'd judge you for being hurt, they're not worthy allies...if they'd judge you for suffering in silence however, that makes them good friends"
Minsc -
"Boo says this should take care of your battle scars. You'll take it yes? When a hamster gives advice, it's bad luck not to take it" he smiles handing Tav whatever potion variant needed. He's overall jovial about it, casual and moves on quickly. Wether that's out of courtesy for Tavs pride or simply because he's a kind man with a hollow head, nobody can truly say.
Hope you enjoyed <3 (and Happy Holidays)
#bg3#and sorry for the wall of text#astarion#astarion headcanons#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#gale headcanons#lae'zel#lae'zel headcanons#shadowheart#shadowheart headcanons#karlach#karlach headcanon#jaheira#bg3 minsc#bg3 jaheira#halsin#bg3 halsin#halsin headcanons#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#wyll headcanons#bg3 headcanons#tav romance
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I’m slowly working on a piece of paper about changes in Wyll’s character between early access and game release, but I don’t really know when I’m going to finish it, in the process I’m more and more fascinated by potential story of Wyll’s parentage and their own story. Although mostly this is purely headcanon, but may I suggest the following:
There are few things we learn about Wyll’s mother during the game.
After stumbling upon Arabella in Shadow-Cursed Lands, a following dialogue may happen:
“You've talked about your father, but not your mother. Why's that?”
“Because there's nothing to tell. She died when I was born. As a boy, my bond with father was too deep to miss the mother I never had. Now, well - I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about my mother. What life would've been like if she'd lived.”
During romance scene in Act 3, Wyll says:
“My mother always said the Wilden Oak's acorns held just a touch of wishing magic.”
There are two weapons, belonging to Ulder Ravengard, which describe some details about Wyll’s parents - Duke Ravengard's Longsword (can be found on Ravengard himself) and Ravengard's Scourger (can be found at High Security Vault 5 in The Counting House):
Longsword: “Cradling his newborn son awkwardly, the Duke's face pulled into a rictus of misery. His love Francesca smiled at him, briefly, and died. He stared at her until the boy cried, and he told the boy it would be all right, though he himself did not believe it.”
Scourger: “Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.”
To sum up, what we learn in-game is that Wyll’s mother was named Francesca, she died giving birth to Wyll, Ulder loved her and their son, and tried his best to raise Wyll well.
Ulder’s parenting style deserve its own piece, but I think its obvious that he cares for Wyll deeply, though often failed to show it, acted to strictly, to righteously. Ultimately, it fall down on Ulder character, the “Murder in Baldur’s Gate” describes him as following: “Blaze (Major) Ulder Ravengard is the incarnation of militarism. The only beauty he appreciates is precision, and the only quality he values is utility. He believes that personal ornamentation other than military insignia is a waste. A meticulous man, he forgets nothing and forgives less. Ravengard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters. Someone might consider him handsome, if not for his constant scowl and many scars.
Blaze Ravengard is Marshal Abdel Adrian’s right hand man. He is both the second Highest ranking officer in the flaming fist and the warden of Wyrm’s rock. Ravengard’s soliders do not love him. They do respect his leadership, however, and pay for it with their obedience, which is exactly how Ravengard prefers things.
Naturally stolid and terse, Ravengard is slow to speak and make decisions in any arena expect the battlefield. Once he decides on a course of action, Ravengard is relentless in it’s pursuit. He believes the Flaming Fist is the Gate’s backbone and the key to the city’s strength.
With the Death of Marshal Abdel Adrian Ravengard has risen to the Rank of Marshal of the Flaming Fists.”
What’s interesting, its noted that Ulder Ravengard was never married, and the longsword description calls Francesca Ulder’s love, not bride or wife. This more then likely mean that Wyll was born out of wedlock, as Wyll is about 16-17 during the death of Abdel Adrian.
When talking with Counseller Florrick, when Wyll is reveled to be Ravengard’s son, he says “The circumstance of my birth is no matter of pride for neither me nor my father.” This may refer to Wyll’s birth leading to his mother’s death or the fact that Wyll’s technically was born a bastard. In the latter case, Wyll’s mom might as well have been a worker at Sharess' Caress, with whom Ulder could have had a one night stand, but its specifically stated that Francesca was loved by Ulder, and of what I read about the Grabd Duke he seems to be the man who would marry her out of duty and responsibility of getting her pregnant. So there should be another reason behind it.
There’s this banter between Shadowheart and romanced-Wyll:
“Someone of your social stature, Wyll, are they typically allowed to pursue their heart whims as they like?”
“I don't have to ask for permission if that's what you mean.”
“Really? I'm surprised, I thought dowries, alliances and old blue blood feuds might have to be balanced against your desires.”
“I'm my own man, Shadowheart, in this sense at least.”
Wyll’s a hopeless romantic, who wishes for a happily ever after with her one true love, and Ulder apparently never minded the potential social status, despite him and Wyll being a high-ranking member of society.
Of course, Ulder’s marital status and Wyll existing can be explained by the fact that Wyll being Grad Duke Ulder Ravengard’s son was a part of the character rewrite. It was datamined before that originally was supposed to be a great-grandson of Duke Eltan, the founder of the Flaming Fist and a Grand Duke of the city of Baldur's Gate in the 1300s DR. And the bits of this storyline are still presented in the game: Fist Art Cullagh with his original writ of duty, signed by Eltan himself, pre-final part of Wyll quest taking place in the Iron Throne, where Eltan nearly assassinated.
Currently, House Eltan, the descendants of Duke Eltan, is one of the noble patriar families. The Forgotten Realms wiki states that: “The family held partial financial ownership of the Flaming Fist mercenary company. At one point however, they were forced to sell their interest to help pay significant debts they had incurred.”. Which I believe corelates with what EA!Wyll spoke of his father (the man saw any shining bauble he liked and took it, and my hand were ever so stinky or smt along those line).
So, what if Wyll is still Elatn’s great-grandson through hid mother? What if somewhere along 1460s DR Francesca Eltan, a granddaughter of a once Grand Duke of the city and a member of patriar family, met Ulder Ravengard, a son of a poor blacksmith and a mercenary of The Flaming Fist, steadily ascending through its ranks? What if Franceesca taught the stern and disciplined Ulder to dance, read to him her favorite stories and poems under the Wilden Oak, made him on other things then duty and order? What is if their time together resulted in Francesca getting pregnant with Wyll? What her family did not approve of the union due to Ulder being merely a mercenary, who hailed from the Lower City, or they wished to marry her off to someone who could aid with the family’s financial problems? What if Francesca ran away, hoping that the birth of a grandchild could convince her family to attend their wedding afterwards? What if Wyll’s love of dancing and dreaming came from the mother he never knew?
#baldur's gate 3#bg 3#wyll ravengard#ulder ravengard#bg3 wyll#wyll bg3#wyll#in my mind ea!Wyll and gr!Wyll are the same person#just one was take in by the Eltans#and another was raised by his father#I just wish the game provided more contents for Wyll#and Ulder for that matter#there is so much more the could’ve done#gods
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Would you mind if I request kissing headcanons for Rolan, Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin with gender neutral s/o?
It's currently 4 am as I'm writing this and pulling this all out of a magic hat (aka my brain) so HERE WE GO!!
Rolan: personally I do not know that much about him yet!!! Though I'm going to try based off the vibes of what I've seen from him. So I apologize here if it's ooc!! But I think his kisses would be very.. sophisticated? Like okay- they're so loving and soft. Light, too. Sometimes it feels like he's trying to keep them professional and away from prying eyes. HOWEVER there's some times when he's a bit more vulnerable and he holds you for a moment longer than he should. You both don't often get a chance alone together but when you do, he's grabbing you by your cheeks in the most gentle way he can muster and kissing you like it's his life support. Which sometimes, it kind of is.
Astarion: oh boy. See this guy? His kisses can vary. At first they were rough and seemed to be fueled purely with carnal desire. However as time goes on and the two of you become more entrapped with one another, you notice he's become softer. More delicate. He likes the kiss to last and for it to linger on your lips after it's over. Other days when he's feeling down and vulnerable because of everything going on (specifically with Cazador) - those moments where his head gets to him and he's scared he's going to lose you or get taken back?? He kisses you so desperately. He'll cling to you and press into your lips. It's full of despair, desire, and need. Belonging. He needs that reassurance that you're here and that you're real. That you'll stay. Please don't ever go, he needs you so bad even if he sucks at showing it.
Gale: at first his kisses were unsure. With the whole loyalty to Mystra thing he's got conditioned into his brain - he felt like he was betraying her. Though as time went on he realized he actually loved you. Whatever he felt with Mystra he realized wasn't genuine. Well at least not on Mystra's end. But with you, it's different. He knows you love him and care for him. You don't see him as some prize to flaunt off to others for power. So after awhile, his kisses become sickeningly sweet. Sometimes they're rushed if you guys are quick to set out on the road again. Other times he will let them linger. Or sometimes he'll give you multiple kisses in one go which leaves the both of you giggling at the end. He's such a hopeless romantic that once he actually has you the way you want him, he's completely whipped for you. He's the type of man who loves with his whole being like it's breathing.
Wyll: he's actually such a big sweetie that it definitely shows in his kisses :(( /pos!! They're never long and don't often linger. Very light and sweet like warm sugar. Sometimes he doesn't even kiss you on the lips. His go to places most of the time is on your wrist, your knuckles, your forehead or your cheek. He really loves to grab your hand and press a kiss into it while smiling at you. His eyes hold so much warmth in them that you could feel like you're drowning if you're not careful. He's so caring and gentle. He's the type to cover you head to toe in tiny little kisses if you'd let him. Sure, kisses on the lips are nice but he wants to cherish every part of you he can.
Halsin: another man who worships you and the ground you walk on. Most of his kisses are on your forehead, cheek, or shoulders. He tends to your wounds first out of everyone in the party and spends the most time on you. Even if you're all healed up, he's still there - telling you how strong you are for standing your ground with such a violent battle. He leaves kisses in his wake wherever he can. His kiss to your lips though? They're so brutal. It's like his carnal beastly urges come out to play when he kisses your lips. Sometimes, much like Astarion, he uses his teeth. He'll nip at your lip and plead for you to just let him devour your mouth with his own. He doesn't often give these types of kisses because quite frankly he holds himself back. If you ask though he'd be more than willing to kiss you like that more often.
#x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#baldur's gate 3#bg3 x reader#gale bg3#astarion bg3#halsin bg3#bg3#rolan bg3#wyll bg3#bg3 headcanons
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She's My Religion (Part 1: She's Cold, She's Dark, She's Cynical) Astarion x F! Reader
Hello! I have been plagued with an idea! Enjoy! This will probably be a four part story, but I am not sure just yet!
Title from song “She’s My Religion” by Pale Waves
CW: Parental death, grief, murder, domestic violence, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse.
Synopsis- You are a paladin under the Oath of Vengeance. You escaped the noble life that was unwillingly thrust upon you. Now, on your way to kill your evil step-father while trying to find a solution for the parasite in your head- you find out he’s promised your hand in marriage to Lord Cazador Szarr and that he’s taken your mom’s life. Looking for some comfort- you go to Astarion, but you don’t hear the words you were hoping for.
*Gif does not belong to me- could not find original owner
Karlach whoops and cheers as she releases you from a rib crushing hug- Wyll and Gale are grinning from ear to ear. You are all elated for her that Dammon was able to figure out how to cool down her engine- even if temporarily.
You know that she doesn’t want to hear about the future and the harm not going back to Avernus will cause so you don’t say anything while Wyll tries to lecture her. You are barely listening as the two of them go back and forth, but when Wyll glances back at you with a look that screams, “Can you please help me out over here?”
You chuckle at your close friend’s distress and shake your head at him. Wyll adores Karlach- you know he would give her his own heart if he could. He just needs to let her come to her own decision- you’d like to think that Karlach might decide to go back until they can come up with a permanent solution. However, at the end of the day, it’s Karlach’s decision. You are just as unhappy with the impending doom your bubbly companion is facing, but that is not your weight to carry.
“Unfortunately Wyll, I am going to support whatever Karlach wants to do for as long as I can emotionally tolerate it,” you give Karlach a playful punch in the arm, “you’re not allowed to die on me, ya know?”
Karlach rolls her eyes and smiles- pulling you in for an awkward walking side hug.
“Don’t worry Soldier- I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
You all begin to head back to camp from Last Light Inn when Jaheira calls you from afar, waving you over. You look at your companions and they look back at you- equally as confused. You tell them that you will catch up with them in a little bit and they leave you there alone. Cautiously, you walk towards her- she did just threaten to kill you not even 72 hours ago and what an eventful 72 hours it has been.
You killed a devil, almost died killing that Devil, found out Astarion’s life is in far more danger than initially thought, watched Astarion convince a weird man to drink himself to death, watched an even weirder man be inhabited by a dead lady, fought shadows, and now, Karlach can hug people.
Life could not be any weirder, but you gladly welcome it over the mansion you had been trapped in after your mother married your step-father. The day you escaped from there had been bliss- despite how much you miss your mother. Your mother had been of noble human blood before she met your father (an elf). After one late night tryst and falling pregnant, her title had fallen significantly. She married your father and you had all lived happily together in Baldur’s Gate. You grew up poor, but Duke Ravenguard always tried to make sure you and your family had been taken care of. You grew up with Wyll Ravenguard and you have been tight knit friends almost your whole lives.
Until you were 14.
Count Bridril Von, a high Sorcerer, had not forgotten your mother nor her breaking her promise to marry him by becoming pregnant by another. After your father died, he found your mother and enchanted her to become a mindless puppet. She would break occasionally, but ultimately you were left to fend for yourself against your 9 step-siblings (5 girls, 4 boys) and Bridril Von- who enjoyed taking out all his anger and hatred for your father on you. The only times he would claim you as one of his own would be when you had competed in various competitions and won- outranking his sons. The publicity he got from having a little sharp shooter and for “raising his darling step-daughter after she so horribly lost her hero father” was incredible. You became a show pony- a pretty, malleable little thing that was forced to perform and excel so that she could be treated with basic respect.
The minute you were able to escape the Mansion from the Hells, you ran to the docks, bought a ticket to Silverymoon, took an Oath of Vengeance, and now you are here with an illithid parasite in your head. At first you had thought you were the unluckiest person in the world when you were kidnapped by a mind flayer, but your companions have quickly made the whole journey worthwhile- Astarion especially.
You had met him before in your previous life as a troublemaking bastard and you had had conversations before- nothing too crazy nor serious, just quips and flirting back and forth. Astarion had been at the mansion frequently or you at the palace because your oldest step-sister, Daisy Von, is (was?) due to marry Lord Cazador Szarr. It was no secret to anyone, not even Daisy, that Cazador wants to marry you due to your likeness of a long lost love of his, but you are not of royal blood. Cazador would lose his alliance with Bridril if he married his boorish, rebellious, and unwanted step-daughter- despite your many achievements. You were grateful. You didn’t want to marry the man and Daisy was foolishly smitten- she could have him for all you care. That was your mentality before you knew he was a Master Vampire.
Your family and Astarion’s ‘family’ spent a lot of time together. Astarion had become your escort around the palace grounds because Bridril did not want you to take the spotlight away from Daisy.
Originally, it had been Pale Petras, but you had unceremoniously kicked him in the balls after he had said something rather unbecoming towards you and had to be physically dragged away by Leon before he tried to kill you or worse. Astarion had immediately taken a liking to you for that alone.
When you had stumbled upon each other at the beach after the Nautiloid crash, it had been a little over two years since you had last seen each other. Without the watchful eyes of Cazador, your friendship and romantic relationship has blossomed.
You had been weary at first, worried that he was just getting close to you because he knew how much it would piss off Cazador if Astarion were to be with the one person Cazador could not have. Now, you are about 95 percent sure that isn’t the case, but you remain alert- just in case.
You are used to being used for an upperhand in the world and you hope everyday that you are more than an advantage against Cazador to him because he truly means everything to you.
Which is maybe why you are quite agitated with Jaheira taking precious minutes away from you that could be spent with your love. You offer her a smile as she holds out a letter.
“A letter? For me? Oh Jaheira, you shouldn’t have!”
Jaheira hides her amusement behind a scowl, “it came through here magically. Rolan was able to calm down the little portal it came flying through- I suggest waiting until you reach Baldur’s Gate to be sending and receiving mail.”
You apologize and walk towards camp, opening and reading the contents in the letter. The letter rips open your entire body and it feels like the ground is going to cave in. You read and reread the letter multiple times- standing between the edge of Last Light Inn and the edge of Camp, not even 5 feet away.
Tav,
My name is Mary, I was your mother’s lady in waiting. You were always so busy that we never got the opportunity to meet. I am sorry to tell you that I only have bad news.
The Count had received an offer from Lord Cazador Szarr two weeks ago regarding marrying you that he is not going to refuse- initially he was, but then you continued to not come home and he became bitter.
Cazador expressed urgency regarding getting you back to Baldur’s Gate. Bridril has hired mercenaries to hunt for you.
Bridril killed your mother- the whispers in the castle say it was not an easy or quick death. My understanding is that you took an Oath of Vengeance so I hope Bridril is on your list. Your mother was the kindest woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting.
I know she would want you to know that she loves you, is proud of you, is watching out for you, and knows you are off to do great things.
Keep vigilant and may Selune bless your path.
-Mary
No. This isn't happening to you. You are only days- maybe even a week or two away from going back home, killing Bridril, and freeing your mother. You were going to be a family again. You wanted to introduce her to your companions and buy a nice little home to live in with her like you used to when you were little. You were going to tell her all about your adventures, your time on the Pirate ship that took you to Silverymoon, your life there as a Paladin, and his whole fucking excursion.
She’s gone and the wail that threatens to crack open your chest is suffocating. You quickly walk to Astarion’s tent, where you have been sleeping most nights, and he’s not there. Of all the times you really need him to not be doing anything and yet! You shove the letter back in the envelope and absentmindedly throw it to another part of the tent- not looking and not caring. Your grief feels like it may kill you and you just need to be held- to know and feel like you aren’t completely alone in the world right now.
After a brief chat with Halsin, you discover Astarion is hanging out with Shadowheart behind her tent. You make haste that way- hoping they won’t be too mad that you are interrupting their wine and gossip time. You had gotten back earlier than anticipated and in other circumstances you might wait until he is done, but you aren’t in your right mind.
You approach the tent and hear them talking on the other side, facing the forest, and sitting on a log. The tears begin to manifest in your eyes as relief floods you- you are so close to feeling okay again.
“How bloody hard is it to nicely, lovingly tell someone that you’ve been deceiving them this whole time?”
You stop dead in your tracks.
No.
“Look, there is no good way to say it,” Shadowheart says, “you just need to own up to it and then be honest about all of it.”
“Oh yes because ‘I planned on seducing you, sleeping with you, and manipulating you from the start’ is such a great opener,” Astarion scoffs, “there has to be some other way to make it flow with the rest of it. A better way to tell her.”
“No need,” you speak up miserably, coming around the corner, “you just did. Wasn’t that hard was it?”
Astarion and Shadowheart look absolutely shell shocked to see you standing there. Astarion looks like he’s about to throw up as he gets up and looks at you softly, a pleading, panicked look in his eyes.
“Darling!” he says, getting up, laughing nervously“you’re back early. I- can we-”
“Whatever we are,” you say with a glare, tears now pouring and with as much hatred in your voice as you can muster, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”
Astarion’s entire face falls while he’s staring at you and he looks like he might cry, he opens his mouth, “Darling, pl-”
Shadowheart looks like she is about to speak up for him too, but you are far too angry, far too hurt- far too lonely right now in the world to let yourself be tricked into staying with him. They are best friends, she’s probably in on it too.
“No! I hate you so much!,” the venom in your voice being watered down by your anguish, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”
You spin around on your heels, race over to your tent, and tie the flaps tightly shut. You slump to the ground and just sob- grabbing your mother’s old blanket that you had stolen before you left. You scream into it silently and all the pain in your body is threatening to make you burst apart at the seams. You wouldn’t be surprised if you did.
In less than an hour you have lost your mother, Astarion, and potentially your freedom. Astarion had used you to get one up on Cazador and he succeeded. Now that he knows what Cazador’s ritual is- he’s decided he’s done with you and every step you make has to be done cautiously because one slip up and you are going to be the consort to a fucking Master Vampire after fighting to avoid this for so long. All because Astarion just had to poke the bear.
Astarion signed your fate using your blood as ink.
Your throat is raw and your head is pounding by the time your lungs feel like they know how to properly breathe again. You hear someone knock on one of the wooden beams of your tent and you scoff.
“It’s just me Tav,” Wyll says softly, “can I come in.”
You get up and untie the tent flaps numbly. You look at Wyll, eyes puffy and red- your face streaked with tears. As Wyll walks into your tent, you get a glimpse of Astarion looking crestfallen as you invite Wyll in. You just scrunch your nose up in disgust at him before closing your tent.
Wyll is sitting down on your bedroll and you sit down right next to him- both of you looking at the ground. Wyll gently puts his hand on top of yours and smiles at you with his signature gentle, I’m here, grin.
“My mom’s dead, Wyll.”
“What?”
“Bridril killed her. She had snapped out of whatever hold he had on her when he agreed to marry me off to Cazador,” you choke out between sobs, “he killed her for trying to protect me. Now? I am officially going to be married off to a Master Vampire the minute I step foot in Baldur’s Gate if Bridril has his way.”
“Oh Tav…”
“And then! To make matters even worse?,” you look at him with disbelief and your voice sounds borderline hysterical now, “I overheard Astarion and Shadowheart prepping his ‘I’ve been using you this whole time and I’m ready to break-up’ speech. He was trying to figure out how to be nice about it.”
Wyll stares at you with bewilderment. He is absolutely silent as you break down sobbing again, but he pulls you into him and you put your head on his shoulder.
“I fe-feel so alone,” you manage to say coherently, “and so frightened.”
“I know you do my dear friend,” Wyll strokes your hair as make a mess of his shirt, “but you have Karlach, Gale, Lae’zel, Halsin, Scratch, and even an Owlbear Cub for Gods sake!”
You smile at the emphasis on your rather dangerous furry friend. Wyll had asked what you were going to do with him when you got back to Baldur’s Gate and when you didn’t have a plan- both of you were a little horrified. You both decided to send it to Daisy as an engagement present once it’s big enough to stomp on Cazador and Daisy mid-wedding.
“And besides,” Wyll says, “you’re my closest friend. I won’t allow you to be alone nor face this alone. I’m probably the best monster hunter you know.”
“You are also the only monster hunter I know.”
Wyll rolls his eyes and smiles brightly at you, “That’s besides the point, but I am going to let you sleep. You look like you need it.”
Wyll places a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves your tent.
“Thank you Wyll.”
He turns around and smiles, “Any time Tav.”
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Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls
#baldurs gate 3#astarion#astarion x reader#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 spoilers#astarion x you#astarion x tav#astarion romance#bg3#karlach#astarion x f! reader#astarion acunin#baldurs gate#bg3 tav
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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party
Bonus Hug - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party
Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.
Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)
Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon
Rating: Teen
Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, post-game, epilogue, cw: alcohol, jealousy
WC: 2.1k words, 18/18 chapters
Summary: An epilogue hug! Astarion sees Rogue!Tav giving out hugs and wants one of his own.
Author's Note: This was not part of the original fic, added on after the epilogue was released, however I chose to put my own spin on the epilogue hug.
Finally, Whether you read this fic AO3, on Tumblr, or a combo of both, thanks so much for joining the hugfest! I love this vampire man, and may he have many, many more hugs <3
Ao3 | [Hug17] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist
It’s been six months since your victory at Baldur’s Gate.
Six months of traveling through the Underdark with Astarion, establishing a base for the vampire spawn, and figuring out your next steps together. It was perilous and difficult work, but you wouldn’t change a single thing.
You have missed your former companions dearly though, so when you received the invitation from Withers for a celebration, the smile that broke across your face could blind a celestial. I wouldn’t miss this for anything – not even a fresh new apocalypse, you wrote back.
So that’s how you and Astarion have found yourselves above ground once again, the familiar wilderness of the Sword Coast a welcome sight, the distinguished company an even more welcome one.
Everyone seems to be doing quite well, despite how you all left each other. Lae’zel is only able to visit through a projection, and the reprieve is rather temporary for a few of your companions– namely Wyll and Karlach– However, it’s a rare opportunity and you’re incredibly grateful to have it.
The elation must be obvious on your face, as Astarion takes one look at you and laughs. His sing-song little giggle never fails to bring a smile to your face, and right now your face is liable to crack open. “Go on, dear,” he says, sensing the eager tension in your body. “Mingle! If you need me, I shall be near the wine.”
“You can mingle too, you know,” you say, though you’ve already begun to walk away.
“Invite me again after a few bottles,” he responds. You know he loves them all in his own way, but he also finds them to be a bit too much at times. Ever the stray cat, he’ll find his way to them when he’s ready, at least you hope. So you nod to him in agreement and wander off to chat with your dearest friends.
You’re so excited to see them all again that you’re practically jogging to meet them.
Shadowheart is the first. When you get a good look at her, you see a peace in her face that you haven’t seen in any of the months you’ve known her. Something about it brings you relief. You knew they would each find their happiness without you, but seeing it firsthand is something else. Perhaps it’s because she’s looking so much more herself than ever, but before long you find yourself asking, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is caring and welcoming and everything you knew Shadowheart has always been.
Next you make your way to Karlach. She’s alive and well, which is ten times better than the last time you saw her, and you just might cry from the sight. She tells you about Avernus and about the possibility to fix her heart and you just might cry from that as well. Again, you can’t resist, especially knowing she’s been fighting for her life for six months. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is warm and strong, just like the woman in your arms.
After that, you make your way to Wyll. He’s doing rather well in Avernus with Karlach, and, when he mentions that he’s planning to ensure Karlach finds a solution to her heart, a few tears well in your eyes. Wyll is among the best of mortal and immortal men, and you’re glad he went with Karlach when you couldn’t. The grateful feeling is more than you can put into words, so you ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is strong and bracing and an absolute testament to Wyll’s enduring friendship.
You find your way to Lae’zel. After learning of her diligent efforts to save her people from Vlaakith, you can’t help but be awestruck by how much she’s changed. You’re inspired by her ability to learn to fight with words and stunned by how much she truly misses you. Even though she’s not there, you can’t help yourself, “Could I have a hug?” She simply clicks her tongue at you and calls you an idiot, somehow melting your heart all the same.
Eventually, you find Gale, tucked away with the tressym Tara. He’s a teacher and no longer at risk of exploding – you can’t help laughing at that, remembering the various times he almost blew you all up without the help of an all-powerful orb. Something about the way he speaks of his new role and invites you to visit, either to teach or just to spend time, makes you realize that this is what a happy wizard looks like. You love it and ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is all-encompassing and lengthy, much like one of Gale’s lessons in magic.
Finally, you find Halsin, dancing the night away. When you learn more about his endeavors, you find that he’s reestablishing the settlement at Reithwin, reconnecting the land to its people. He mentions that Thaniel and Oliver are no longer lonely and that the children of the settlement bring him a fulfillment he never thought possible. After regaling him of an exaggerated tale of your and Astarion’s adventures, you assure him that the two of you will visit soon to tell more. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is surprisingly gentle and comforting, and you walk away feeling quite content.
You determine that you’ll need to ask the rest, even Withers, for hugs if they’ll all be this enjoyable. But before you do that, you decide to take a moment to yourself, to process everything.
That’s how you find your way to a quiet corner, head spinning with warm, fuzzy feelings and maybe a smidge too much wine. Just being here, surrounded by some of the best people you’ve ever had the privilege to encounter, fills you with a companionship you weren’t aware you’d been missing. Astarion fills you with so much love and happiness, but this– this is different.
As if summoned with your thoughts, the vampire walks toward you, wine glass in hand. "Are you done mingling?" Sensing your mind is elsewhere, he leans closer, inspecting your glassy, faraway gaze. His hand lands on the small of your back, jolting your attention back to the present and you turn to look at him. His eyes sparkle at you with radiant joy and a hint of something else. Could that be annoyance?
You decide to focus on the joy. "Yes, I think I've managed to get good conversations out of everyone. Did you know Gale wants me to go teach at Waterdeep?" Your voice sounds incredulous, after all, you warned him: once a rogue, always a rogue. Unless he wants his students to learn how to stab more efficiently, he would do best to seek someone else.
Astarion clearly agrees, making an exaggerated, aghast expression. "You? A teacher?" He shudders in fake-fear. "My love, I pity the poor students who would be subjected to your methods."
“Hey,” you say, shooting him a glare. “I thought you were supposed to be the supportive one!”
He laughs and shakes his head. “I can only support so much, my dear.” Then he takes a long look at you, noticing how unfocused your eyes are, the flush to your face. “And from the looks of it, I may need to support your entire body before the night is over.”
You only grin at him and say, “What did I do to deserve such a caring man?”
“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing gentle circles along your back. “Likely whatever you did to deserve the affections of every adventurer this side of the Chionthar.” His tone is joking, but the dark look on his face says otherwise.
Pushing aside your own amusement, you pull his hand from your back and lean into him. “Okay, what's the matter, love?”
“Oh nothing. I just thought my jealous days were behind me.” He sounds sullen, and you note a sad tilt to his eyebrows.
Jealous days? You groan, recalling his concern over the fiery barbarian. “Love, really truly, if I were leaving you for Karlach, I would have gone to Avernus months ago.”
He waves his wine glass at you dismissively. “I know that, and I don’t mean Karlach, contrary to all evidence thus far.” Suddenly avoiding your gaze, he takes a sip of wine and changes the subject. “No matter, let’s go ask Withers where he found this vintage.”
“No, no, no,” you say, tugging him back to you before he can walk off. After another six months together, getting used to each other’s idiosyncrasies outside of mortal peril (mostly out of mortal peril), you knew the escape was only a ruse. He wants to talk, but he seems too embarrassed to begin. “You’re allowed to be jealous, Astarion. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.”
Astarion stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a pair of vulnerable red eyes. “Do you promise not to laugh?”
You take a beat to debate this, but ultimately honesty wins over and you shake your head. “I wish I could, but I do promise to try my best?”
A sigh escapes him, and you’re graced with a soft, reluctant smile. “Typical. You were truthful though, so I shall be too. I was rather jealous of…” He wipes a hand over his face dramatically. “I was jealous that you’ve gone and hugged everyone else. Gods, I sound like a child.”
It’s a good thing you only promised to try your best because an involuntary huff leaves your lips, which you'd firmly pressed together in preparation. "That is…" you gasp out.
"Idiotic? Pathetic?" Astarion supplies.
"Rather adorable actually," you say, finally allowing a snort out. “How do you always manage to be both adorable and sexy?”
You swear you can see the tips of his ears color pink, but that may just be the firelight or your own tipsy vision. He only says, “I’m quite talented.”
“Would a hug help you feel better?”
Astarion looks at you, eyes darting between yours. You can see a bit of hesitation in them, and you’re wondering why when he says, “Only if it’s not a pity hug.”
“Never,” you say, solemnly. “You know I only give hugs I mean.”
He clicks his tongue, annoyed again. He places his wine glass down on the ground with a flourish, as if preparing himself. “Yes, exactly. Which is why I’ve gone and become jealous. This is all your fault and I expect you to remedy it.”
You nod, accepting this burden with ease. “In that case… Could I hug you?” Astarion waves his hand at you as if to say, get on with it already, and you dive right in.
The hug is loving, it’s understanding and supportive. It warms you, it cools you, and it makes you want to tackle this man to the ground in an aggressive affection– a feeling you only barely temper after a few glasses of wine. After experiencing so many hugs tonight, you find that the hug is so very perfectly him.
No, not just him. It’s the type of hug that the both of you make together. And it’s the hug you want to experience again and again for the rest of your life.
When you finally pull away from him, Astarion is smiling once more, jealousy evidently placated. “Well now, I have you every night, don’t I? Go on then, continue to bless them with your presence. I’ll be here when you’re ready. I’ll always be here, my love.”
You shake your head at him. “A lovely sentiment, of course, but you’re done hiding. Come on.”
“What?” he asks, brows furrowing as he tilts away from you.
“I said, you’re done hiding. No more shadows, they all keep asking about you and I’d rather you answer them yourself,” you say, all but dragging him back to the party now. “They miss you too, you know.”
“Darling, please. What if they ask me for a hug?” Astarion looks truly appalled at the thought.
You laugh, imagining him reacting like a cat forced into a bathtub. “You can say no, of course. But I promise not to get too jealous if you do.”
“What will it take for you to forget I ever said that?” he says, laughing and allowing himself to be dragged.
You quickly swipe his wine glass back up off the ground as you pull him along, and take a long drink before returning it to him. You only say, “At least two more bottles, though I suppose that depends on how wild Withers likes his parties.”
Hand-in-hand, you both walk off to enjoy the rest of the celebration. The night is young, the wine is flowing, and there are still many more hugs to be shared.
#astarion#astarion x tav#fanfic#astarion fic#astarion x reader#rogue + rogue#astarion fanfiction#astarion fanfic#astarion fluff#astarion masterlist#hugs for a vampire#hfav#gn reader#astarion x gn reader#astarion x gn!tav#astarion baldurs gate#bg3 astarion
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Hii 💕 can I request where Gale,Wyll,Halsin,Astarion are cuddling with a female Tav in the middle of the night the owl bear cub walks up to them and stares before trying to cuddle her as well thank you💕 sorry to bug
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How would the boys react to Tav cuddling with them at night ft. The owlbear cub!
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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION
“Gods, does it really have to join us? Yes? Oh, fine. But don't put the poor thing near me, darling, it smells! Don't give me that look, I said what I said.”
He likes the cub don't worry
It was a quiet night with you and Astarion, one which was spent with a couple of bottles of wine and the occasional silent laughter. All but him and you were awake at this time, bickering and bantering as the alcohol slowly sank in.
It started off with his usual snarky remarks in regards to your companions (Gale), then about the various foes you've both slayed and how they were absolutely hideous. Oh, and how he nearly broke a nail. He’s devastated.
Even so, the both of you were content with each other’s presence. a sudden warmth filling his otherwise undead heart.
Though he didn't admit it out loud just yet, he had never felt more alive in his life. Every moment he spent with you was making up for all the years of suffering he had been out through.
Who knew that one quiet night alone by the campfire could make him feel… hopeful. Hopeful that whatever you both may face, he wouldn't have to stand alone in fear. He has you.
And just when he thought the moment was right. Just when he thought he could finally lean in for the sweet kiss he’d finally come to initiate himself, that was when you both heard a sudden chirp.
The face he made when he suddenly saw his midnight snack the owlbear cub nudging against you was priceless, he couldn't decide whether he wanted to curse it or awe at the poor thing.
I mean. It was an adorable sight. But gods damnit this was supposed to be his moment! Nevertheless, he settled with cuddling both you and the owlbear (to his reluctance, he's still quite bitter about it.)
: ̗̀➛GALE
“Well hello there little one! I wasn't particularly expecting to have another join such a special night but how can I to turn away this fuzzy friend of ours? Perhaps I could put on another light show! Dedicated to the both of you this time. How does that sound?”
He was in the midst of conjuring a few light spells here and there as you two nuzzled up together, giving you a tiny little light show all for you.
He simply adored the twinkle in your eyes every time he began to show a few magic tricks here and there, anything to make you smile of course.
This man would light up the sky with the most brilliant of stars for you, but trust and believe that above all the comets and moons above, you will always be the most radiant thing he could have ever admired.
He probably would have tried to teach you a simple trick or two (assuming you aren't already a knowledgeable wizard such as himself), so both of you could light up the sky together.
He could have written a hundred love letters all in your name right then and there and still, each word could never have captured just how deeply he treasures you.
All his time studying and channeling the weave in all of its forms and yet all of the comforts and powers it may hold could never compare to the ultimate bliss he feels when he's with you.
He was a mere second from pulling you closer, a tiny inch closer from finally pressing a sweetened kiss against those spellbinding lips of yours, and he would have gotten it if it weren't for the damn owlbear pouncing atop him.
He nearly screamed He was all so good at pretending not to be startled. Despite the interruption, he could hardly remain upset for long, not when the cub was this adorable! However, he still managed to wriggle a quick kiss against the corners of your lips before you eagerly brought the owlbear closer to the both of you.
He was perfectly content with sharing you with the cute little thing, both of you felt so warm, and if he could, he’d be sleeping right then and there.
He did in fact fall asleep.
: ̗̀➛WYLL
“Oh! Well, won't you look at that! Perhaps our furry little companion would love a dance lesson of his own? No? Ha! Cuddling it is then, come here! Both of you! Nothing but another sweet thing to brighten up the mood.”
He had spent most of the night dancing away with you in his arms. In the bright glowing moonlight you looked absolutely stunning in ways dreams of his own could never compare.
While he wished for this intimate dance of yours to go on for longer, he was perfectly happy with cuddling up next to you too.
Amidst the silence of the night, he would whisper every sweet little thing he's come to adore about you, describing you in ways that could have made your heart swoon again and again.
You’d always find your own hand interlocked with his as if your hands were the only things he’d ever want to hold onto. His touch was always soft, no matter how smooth or calloused your own hands may be, he treated them as if they were the most fragile thing on earth.
The one thing that would shatter him completely is if, in the midst of cuddling, you decided to gently caress his horns or the ridges on his skin, kissing them would only take the words out of his lips. His heart is wholly yours, he couldn't ask for anything more!
If he could, he’d hum a soft tune, lulling you both into a peaceful rest where for just this night and hopefully many more, you both can be lost in a calming peace.
Everything seemed perfect, specifically the perfect time to finally plant a soft kiss against your lips. A kiss he knew would light his heart ablaze and scorch him completely, body and soul- but then he heard a soft little chirp.
He felt no bitterness at all the moment he saw those wide beady eyes of the camp’s lovely little owlcub stumble along to cuddle with you both. In fact, he practically lit up! He was already scooping up the damn thing as if it was his own child, already pulling the sweet cub into a hug.
The kisses he was going to give to you were given to the little bundle of joy, but don't worry! He does have some left reserved just for you.
: ̗̀➛HALSIN
“Hm, as they say, the more the merrier. Who am I to exclude one of nature’s own from a well-needed embrace. Isn't that right, my heart? Besides, the little one is far too adorable for me to simply ignore.”
He was already practically bear-hugging you from behind, capturing you in his arms so it was a tad bit difficult to escape. Though you could tell he was being as gentle as possible, a single tug and he’d let go of you if you so wished.
His head was buried against the crook of your neck, taking in your scent which he had come to grow absolutely obsessed with. There was always something about the way you smelled that made him all the more enchanted by you.
He wouldn’t say much, not when he was this relaxed, the sounds of nature around you both were enough to fill the silence.
You could tell that he was holding back, his hands trying their hardest to remain where they were rather than completely traveling all over your body. As much as he was able to hold himself back, it was always incredibly difficult to do so.
With your permission, his hands would go everywhere, worshipping each part of you as if you were a true deity. One that he was helplessly bewitched by.
There would be a subtle twitch from his fingers each time he touched another part of your body, almost as if he was resisting to urge to go further but he remained behaved. He would save the far more intimate nights for another day as this was supposed to be something far sweeter.
However, if you begin to touch him back? He’d be on the verge of losing himself entirely. Perhaps even a soft warning would slip out of his lips, attempting to both calm himself and stop you from pressing even further less this was what you truly wanted.
In the middle of all his resistance, he’d eventually lose control, his body once more transforming into a bear just as he always does when things became far too overwhelming for your sweet Druid, it was only the sound of a tiny chirp that managed to bring him back to his senses.
He’d calm down the moment he made eye contact with the owlbear cub, his bear form smiling down at the little creature as if he was truly pleased to see the small creature. What was going to be a rather intimate long night between you two soon became a happy little snuggle pile with you, bear Halsin, and the lovely owlbear cub.
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#bg3#baldurs gate 3#bg3 headcanon#bg3 headcanons#bg3 x reader#bg3 astarion#bg3 wyll#bg3 gale#bg3 halsin#astarion#wyll#gale#halsin
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this is random, but a prompt idea that made me giggle is what if Tav wasn’t very interested in Astarion, maybe she’s from a more stoic or conservative country/realm/plane, so his flirting either went over her head or pushed her away… until she sees him sewing. Him acting ‘domestic’ immediately attracts her. Him secretly fixing Karlach’s bear, or later maybe fixing up Yenna’s clothes, makes her give him heart eyes.
Astarion, who already gave up after his flirting failed, is very confused by her sudden attention and requests for sewing lessons. For extra fun, what if post-brain she requests for lessons on sewing tiny clothes, not even realizing she’s asking how to make baby clothes—their baby’s.
Olive Branch
This is a bit different from my other work so I thought I'd give it a go! Not 100% satisfied with it, but I hope you still enjoy, anon!
Word count: 1.3K
Tags/warnings: All fluff, Astarion being Astarion lol
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Astarion finally gave up on seducing Tav . He’d originally pegged her as a naive, and therefore easily charmed and manipulated, cleric. Unfortunately, two weeks of wasted effort proved him wrong. She’d barely spoken or paid attention to him and his overt advances at all.
Any attempts to entrance her with aggressive flirtation or the allure of his sexual wiles seemed to have an opposite effect. In fact, Tav would always gravitate more towards Wyll and Gale and preferred to avoid him almost entirely.
He couldn’t be the issue, of course. He was gorgeous, witty, and made it quite clear he was experienced in bed. He was the man of anyone’s dreams; he knows because he’d manufactured himself to be practically undeniable to the masses.
So then it was obviously her… she was certainly the problem. Something about that – admittedly attractive – cleric was strange; she was oddly secretive about her goddess. The rogue couldn’t even be sure which goddess it was; Tav never referred to the deity by name.
Her apparent distaste for him was concerning, however. Just a few days back, the monster-hunter had outed him as a vampire. The entire group seemed ready to cast him aside after that, save their cleric leader. She’d granted him a moment of mercy and had been able to convince the others that he wasn’t a danger, though he felt he was on thin ice with her and everyone else.
Astarion did not know how he was going to charm his way out of this one. And as the rogue sits in front of his tent, mulling over his options for ensuring his own security, he begins to consider that perhaps he should just suck it up and proposition Lae’zel or Gale. One of them would be sufficient, too.
The elf is ripped from his scheming by a sudden groan of dismay from Karlach just a few tents over. When he turns to survey the scene, he sees the slouched tiefling grasping onto that stuffed bear she slept with every night, muttering something to a concerned Tav.
“Perhaps we can find a new bear, Karlach,” Tav says, frowning as she gently takes the stuffed animal from her friend and spins it around in her hand. The toy’s back seam is split apart; tufts of white stuffing spill from the opening.
Astarion instantly recognizes the issue. And the opportunity. Karlach is easily Tav’s favorite campmate – they were two sappy peas in a pod. It was likely that by offering his aid, he’d be able to win points with both the strongest member in camp and their illustrious leader, all without much effort on his part. Perfect.
“I can fix that for you, Karlach, if you’d prefer!” The rogue calls, snapping shut the book he’d been half-reading before taking a few strides toward his campmate, “It looks simple enough, wouldn’t take me more than an hour or so.”
Karlach, always the easily excitable, affable campmate, is grinning as she responds, “Really, Fangs?! You can do that?”
The silver-haired elf chuckles and then nods, taking the bear from a suspicious Tav before briefly examining it, “Certainly. It’s nothing a simple whipstitch won’t fix.”
And then he returns to his tent and quickly sets to work. As promised, the bear is good as new in just over an hour.
*
Later that evening, the vampire sits close to the campfire, warming his icy skin. Apart from Tav, all his campmates had returned to their tents and since gone to sleep. The cleric was perhaps the only person that loved the fire almost as much as he did; she would often stare at it for long periods of time as if in prayer or meditation.
These nightly moments between the two of them typically passed in relative silence until one or the other dismissed themselves from the strained situation. Sometimes it felt as if they were fighting for a claim over the fire.
But tonight, Tav turns her head to stare at Astarion for a moment too long, prompting him to face in her direction with an arched eyebrow.
“You’re quite talented at sewing,” She says, her eyes flickering across his face, examining it as if it’s brand new and not a visage she’s already known for weeks. Astarion thinks he sees her skin reddening, but then, she’s sitting remarkably close to the flames.
This olive branch is unexpected.
“Is that an actual compliment?” Astarion retorts, feigning shock and cocking his head just slightly, “I suppose I’ll take it, darling. I have to admit it’s preferable to the eye rolls and sighs you normally send my way.”
Tav shrugs, not really refuting any of the rogue’s claims, before continuing on, “I suppose I didn’t think you had a domestic bone in your body. I misjudged you.”
“Domestic?” Astarion asks, his tone betraying his displeasure at being called such a thing. He thinks she means to call him weak and is about to spew an insult in the cleric’s direction before she interrupts.
“I don’t mean offense,” She starts, throwing her hands up in surrender, “I apologize, I forget that isn’t always viewed as a compliment. But where I come from, domesticity is a highly favored attribute.”
The rogue’s vitriol dies in his mouth as he assesses the woman in front of him. He can’t help it, he’s curious, so he asks, “And where do you come from, exactly?”
There is a long moment of silence. Tav heavily considers her response. And then she sighs and shrugs, “I’m from a hamlet in the Dalelands… it’s quite small, made up of no more than a few hundred. Most of us worship Hestia, the goddess of hearth and home.”
Astarion’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to recall this goddess, but he doesn’t recognize the name.
Tav realizes Astarion has no clue what she’s talking about and visibly relaxes, “She is the goddess of hearth and home in our beliefs. Most inhabitants of the Dalelands worship Chauntea… Hestia worship is not widely accepted. It’s generally considered savagery.”
The rogue shrugs. He really didn’t care who worshiped which god. In his eyes, all gods and goddesses were essentially the same and none of them seemed to respond anyway. Everyone was free to beg whatever deity for whatever handouts they wanted; he preferred to abstain from the practice entirely.
“Good for you, darling, go on and worship whoever tickles your fancy,” The elf responds, turning once again to watch the fire.
Another stretch of silence, this one a bit more comfortable than any moments previous. Astarion doesn’t notice as the cleric quietly admires his profile, her eyes filled with a yearning that hadn’t ever been directed towards the vampire until now.
After a while, Tav stands and briefly stretches her muscles. She walks a few steps toward her tent but then abruptly spins around to look at the rogue.
“Astarion?” She murmurs, her tone almost hesitant, as if she’s unsure of herself.
“Yes?” He replies, ripping his eyes away from the fire and dismissing his own thoughts to acknowledge the woman.
“Do you think you’d be able to show me how to sew like you? I only know the basics. I thought you could give me sewing lessons and I could teach you something in return… crochet or how to play the lyre, perhaps?” She asks, her hands twisting together in an anxious knot as she speaks.
The rogue nods almost imperceptibly, subtly cocking his head as he processes Tav’s sudden change in attitude toward him before responding, “Certainly, darling.”
Tav grins, and it appears almost childlike. Astarion feels the briefest flicker of affection toward the woman at her relative innocence, which is such a stark contrast to his own jaded nature.
“Okay, then. How about starting lessons tomorrow night?” She asks, still smiling, her eyes shimmering with excitement.
“Sounds like a plan,” The elf responds, and then watches with idle curiosity as Tav bids goodnight and walks away.
Astarion smiles as he returns his attention to the fire. He thinks this is a nice, simple plan; an easy way to keep himself safe in the wilds. Surely a plan as simple as this couldn't fall apart.
Right?
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