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mommybookwyrm · 7 months ago

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Play Me A Song Of Longing On Your Heartstrings | by Mommybookwyrm

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion/Wyll

Summary:

What if the Absolute Crisis had been foretold and the gods had already had it all figured out and fixed with a neat little bow with six heroes hand-picked for the job?

The gods certainly have no need for a vampire spawn in their plans, all but one that is.

For 200 years, Astarion had thought all of his prayers unanswered, but one goddess was meddling in the other god's plans, risking unraveling them at the seams, for the sake of the spawn that had pulled on her heartstrings.

This is a reimagining of the events in the game, with my own creative twists and an emphasis on Astarion's fight for freedom and his journey of healing.

A Prayer is Heard

The Beach

Before: The Master’s Rules

The Ruins

Long Rest

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evillittlebirdie · 2 years ago

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*me in line at AO3 like it’s Starbucks* Hey, how are you? Can I get uhhhh an Astarion/Wyll fic? But it’s Wyll centric and this time Astarion is the prop for Wyll’s trauma and recovery.

*AO3 barista sighing* I’ll check in the back.

#i think i’m funny #astarion/wyll #wyll ravengard #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #wyllstarion #wyll romance

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baldurs-gape · 2 years ago

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There was one thing Astarion knew he was good at without fail; seduction. If he needed something, anything, sex was almost always the route to it. And if it didn't work, a small murder was perhaps a little more fun. Either way, Astarion always got what he set his mind to. In the current situation he needed safety and protection. While he could very well keep himself out of trouble, it was nice to have other people do the heavy lifting for a change. They wouldn't go unrepaid though. While Astarion didn't have anything other than a rag of a blanket to call his own, his body could very well be offered in payment. Little did he know that, over time, the others learned to see through him, to understand him.

When he went to Wyll's tent, his rather blatant offers and flirting were turned into soft conversation and the odd dancing lesson hidden from view of the camp. Astarion had 200 years of dancing knowledge while Wyll had the enthusiasm if not the twinkletoes of a natural dancer.

Another night, another tent. Karlach was down for anything on offer but had a knack for turning things on their heads. Where Astarion expected to be used like a doll then tossed aside, he was instead treated to the most mindblowing sex of his rather long life. Emerging from the remains of Karlach's tent in the morning, he couldn't help but feel satisfied at the aches and pains left behind along with the tingling pleasure of a night very well spent.

If he ever approached Shadowheart, they got far too drunk to do much other than laugh at the silliness of existence. The closest they got was fingers brushing as they passed yet another bottle between them. Perhaps the highlight of such nights was laughing so hard that wine shot out of his nose which made Shadowheart laugh even more.

With Lae'zel it was a mixed bag. Some nights it was all about letting off some steam with some rather spectacular orgasms. Even though Astarion's body was simply a tool for that, he never felt used or taken advantage of. The nights where neither of them felt any real urge to get off, they went hunting. Lae'zel was one of the few people that Astarion could truly let go around, stop pretending to be anything other than what he was. It felt good to hunt alongside someone as competent and fearless as Lae'zel. Around her he had no need to hold back.

Halsin was one that Astarion almost dreaded for all the strangest of reasons. It was too nice, too kind, too thoughful. Most nights Halsin would take his bear form and Astarion could choose how lazy he was feeling. If he chose to, they'd lumber out into the wilderness side by side. However, he could also let Halsin do all the work and settle across a broad, warm back. They had their favourite clearings, far enough from camp that it was truly just the two of them. If the mood struck, Halsin would shift back to his elf form and they'd lie back, staring at the stars and tell each other stories of the constellations. Other nights Halsin would remain a bear and curl protectively around Astarion, keeping him warm and comfortable in the peaceful silence of the night.

Last but not least was Gale. He was the one who stumped Astarion the most. At first it was the point blank refusal to even touch him. Something about wanting a connection on an emotional level first. So they talked over drinks, over a meal, while holding hands then between shy kisses. By the time Astarion was on his back, having a firsthand experience of just how talented Gale's tongue was, he was at an utter loss as to what was happening. It was only when, so many more shared nights later, Gale whispered three little words in his ear that it finally made sense. And somehow Astarion was all too okay with saying them back, knowing that he actually meant them too for the first time.

#astarion/everyone #astarion/halsin #astarion/gale #astarion/lae'zel #astarion/shadowheart #astarion/karlach #astarion/wyll #bg3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #karlach #lae'zel #shadowheart #halsin #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3

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asidian · 2 years ago

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A Memory Shared

by: Asidian

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion/Wyll

Warnings: trust issues, past abuse, past torture depicted in a dream

Excerpt:

Wyll presses his hands to his eyes; he waits for his heart to stop pounding, and for the dream to recede, as dreams so often do.

This one doesn't.

It lives inside him, still playing behind his eyes, the images unfolding in real time.

#fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 wyll #wyll ravengard #astarion #wyllstarion #astarion/wyll

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overobsessivewhumper · 2 years ago

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Whumpcember 2023: Day 2: Sickness

@whumpcember

Content warning: Emetophobia

Read on Ao3

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Astarion ends up drinking the blood of a Shadow-Cursed creature.

Lucky for him, Wyll isn't going to let him suffer the consequences alone.

As soon as the cursed blood had hit the inside of his mouth, Astarion had regretted his decision. He'd been cornered, caught between the deadly twisting dark of the Shadow cursed lands and one of the poor souls that fell to said dark.

Hours later, sitting in the warm glow of the Last Light Inn's fire place, Astarion wishes he'd kept his teeth to himself. There's cause for celebration. Karlach just had her engine upgraded, and is greatly enjoying her newfound freedom. Astarion didn't particularity feel like joining in. A sharp pain has made its home in his abdomen, and every once of his attention is being consumed by keeping how much he's shaking unnoticeable. As much as Astarion shifted the way he sat or pressed the palm of his hand subtly against his stomach, nothing seemed to ease his discomfort.

Not only had Astarion been caught quite a way away from his companions, but he had also been down a dagger.

A frankly embarrassing oversight on his part had lead to him dropping one of them.

No health potions on him, he'd made the split decision to use the assets his vampirism came with and drink his opponents blood.

Things take a turn for the worse as nausea sets in. The overwhelming smell of food and copious amounts of alcohol aren't helping. He needs to leave the inn.

With a quick squeeze of Wylls hand, and a whispered excuse about being tired, Astarion gets up to make his way to camp. The gingerly way he moves and slight limp can luckily be blamed on the lingering injuries from the earlier fight, so Astarion is confident that no one will bat an eye.

But of course Wyll can't leave well enough alone.

Just before Astarion can get out of the inn, Wyll catches up to him.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” Wyll takes his hand in his again. “You hardly spoke a word all evening...” The look Wyll bares is soft and worried, so much so that Astarion is almost forced to consider his feelings for the man deeper. Something he's very much been avoiding. Instead, Astarion flashes him a smile.

“Why ever wouldn't I be alright?” Astarion answers, resting his unoccupied hand on his hip in a way he knows looks good. The motion doesn't feel good, but that hardly matters. “I'm just tired.”

The look Wyll is giving him doesn't change.

“Are you sure? You took quite a beating in that fight today.” Wyll brings his hand up to gently brush just shy of a bruise blooming on Astarions cheekbone. Astarion doesn't let the smile drop. He got himself into this mess, he'll have to find his own way out of it. Besides, throwing up in front of the Blade of Frontiers was hardly going to make the man find him more desirable.

“Oh nothing a good nights rest won't fix.” Astarion says, laughing for emphasis.

“I could accompany you back to camp.” Wyll suggests, running his thumb across the back of Astarions hand. Astarion scoffs.

“I can manage that short a walk on my own, thank you very much. Stop worrying so much and join the others!” Pressing a chaste kiss to Wylls lips, Astarion slips his hand from Wylls and steps back. “I'll be fine.”

Wyll struggles to remain serious after the kiss, a smile crossing his face. Astarion knew that would work.

“If you say so... I'll see you later then.”

“Later, my love.” Astarion turns before Wyll can ask more questions, giving him a little wave.

Glancing over his shoulder, Astarion catches a glimpse of Wyll rejoining the others. Astarion sighs, tension leaving his body he hadn't even known was there in the first place. The further he gets from prying eyes, the harder every step he takes seems. His limbs feel leaden, all his senses start appearing distant.

Next thing he knows, he's fallen to his knees, body trying desperately to rid its self of the vile blood. It tastes twice as bad as it did the first time, and burns all the way up. When the retching finally stills, he's shaking violently, barely able to keep himself from falling into the small pool of congealed blood and swirling ichor on the floor.

Expelling the blood he did does nothing to lessen the agony he's in. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to get back up. Doing so leaves Astarion out of breath, despite not needing to breath. The awful feeling in his stomach has spread its ugly tentacles all over his body, layering a new kind of ache on top of the one already present from spending the day fighting.

Just a little further, Astarion tells himself, then he can collapse all he likes.

And when the camp comes into sight, he almost does just that. But Astarion forces his legs to carry him just a little further. Once he reaches the entrance of his tent, he lets his body do what it wants, and the ground comes up to meet him.

It's always cold in the Shadow cursed lands, Astarion hates it. He hates it even more now. Every shiver that runs through his body aggravates every ache and pain.

If Astarion had any energy left, he'd try and drag himself into his bedroll. But he doesn't, so he settles for blindly reaching for his blanket and haphazardly pulling it over himself. It would have to do.

At least the tent lends him some privacy in his suffering, not something Astarions used to being afforded.

Under Cazador, pain was rarely a private thing. Someone was always there, observing it, enjoying it. Astarion shuddered. Thinking about his former master now is a dangerous game to be playing. He tries to push the taught away, tries to distract himself, tries to think of something else, anything else. The harder he attempts to do so, the more he ends up doing exactly what he wanted to avoid.

Memories of past pain mix with the present in a mess of blurry images and muddled sensations. The tug of commands unable to be disobeyed, rotting blood, pain no matter what he did, unwanted hands all over his body. Astarion is ashamed by the pathetic noise he lets escape his mouth.

He draws his knees to his chest, cheek pressed to the cold floor, blanked hardly helping keeping him warm at all. He'd feel sorry for himself, if this weren't his own fault.

Astarion counts himself lucky that breathing isn't a necessity. He doesn't think he'd have it in him to sit up or even roll over were he to be sick again. Whilst some of the cursed substance would undoubtable end up in his lungs, it'd hardly be the death of him.

His eyes flick to the piece of fabric separating him from the outside world as it shifts. A head pokes in, and none other than Wyll stares down at him, single red eye glowing in the dim light. Astarion can't really decide whether he prefers this to some rabid beast coming to bite his face off. His dignity would suffer less if it were the beast.

Something moves against the outside of his tent, and Astarions first instinct is: Run.

He can't, doesn't even try to.

Wyll immediately drops to his knees next to Astarion. "Hells, you look terrible." Astarion is sure he does.

A distant part of him wants to give Wyll a snarky answer, something about that being no way to greet your lover, but only a weak groan leaves his mouth.

Wyll brings his hand up to tilt Astarions head gently to one side. Astarion is aware that Wyll is saying something, but all he can focus on as soon as Wylls warm palm makes contact with his cheek is how good it feels. He leans into the touch as much as he possibly can, wanting desperately to cling to that tiny speck of warmth.

But just as fast as it appeared, it's gone again. Astarions attempt to pull Wylls hand back fails miserably. The cold seeps right back, worse than the first time.

“I'm getting Halsin. He'll know what to do.” Wyll says, pulling the blanket on Astarion to cover him better. As humiliating having Wyll see him like this is, the prospect of being left alone with his thoughts again unnerves Astarion. Talking isn't something he trusts himself to manage, so he throws Wyll a pleading look. Wyll sighs. “I'll be right back, promise.” He leans down and presses a quick kiss to Astarions forehead. “Just stay put, alright?”

And with that, he leaves. In some stupid attempt to get him to come back, Astarion puts all he's got into sitting up. His arms spasm under his weight and his head swims as renewed waves of nausea hit him, and, just as Astarion manages to get himself upright, his vision blurs and suddenly, everything goes dark.

The first thing that floods back when Astarion regains consciousness is his bodies disagreement with what he'd done the last day. Astarion partly wishes he hadn't woken up yet. At least then he wouldn't have to be an active participant in the pain he's experiencing.

The second thing Astarion notices is that he's laying against something warm.

Opening his eyes, Astarion notices that whilst he is still in his own tent, he isn't alone any more. It doesn't take a lot of thinking power to summarize that the lap his head is laying in is Wylls. His hand is in Astarion's hair, playing with it idly. When Astarion turns to look up, Wyll seems to gets shook from his thoughts. The distant look he had a moment ago is gone, the concern however doesn't leave his expression.

“Oh, I hope this wasn't too presumptuous of me.” Wyll says, withdrawing his hand. “I couldn't really ask you... Halsin said you might appreciate a bit of warmth.” He pauses, eyebrows drawn together. “I can leave, if you want me to.”

Wyll smiles and the warmth of it almost reminds Astarion of the sun.

“Don't you dare.” Astarion hisses, voice rough and unsteady, barely above a whisper. Astarion knows it would be better to take the out and let the man leave. It's awful to be seen like this, not to mention, very unhelpful to keeping on Wylls good side. It was hardly attractive, seeing Astarion this disgustingly sick.

But it also felt nice to not be alone, to be held. Astarion doesn't want to think about the feelings he holds for Wyll all too much, no matter what those feelings may be, but he couldn't deny that Wylls presence comforted him.

And Wyll explains what Halsin had done, that he had healed Astarions physical injuries as best he could and that he'd, correctly, guessed that Astarion had ingested blood tainted by the shadow curse. Some time during the explanation, Wyll started running his fingers through Astarions hair again.

“Halsin reckons the only thing you can really do is wait for the sickness to have run its course.” Wyll continues.

The urge to make some comment about the druid being useless was there, but not nearly pressing enough for Astarion to act on it.

A fresh shiver tears through Astarions body, and he subtly tries to shift himself closer to Wyll. Not nearly subtle enough it seems, as even faced with such minute movement, Astarions body protests adamantly and violently. A groan leaves Astarions mouth before he can even think to try and stop it. It's a horrible little thing too, weak and breathy.

“Can I try something?” Wyll asks. Astarion nods. What ever Wyll could come up with couldn't possibly make things worse. Wyll shifts Astarions head off of his lap, and for a moment it is worse as even that small bit of warmth is gone.

But it isn't gone for long, as Wyll moves to lay beside him, pulling Astarion to his chest so carefully Astarion is tempted to complain about Wyll treating him like he's make out of glass. Against the cold of Astarions skin, even through a layer of clothes, Wyll feels almost impossibly warm against his back. Wylls hands come to rest on Astarions chest, encircling him loosely.

And, although Astarion loathes to admit it, maybe he doesn't mind his suffering being witnessed all that much if the one with him is Wyll.

#whumpcember2023 #bg3 #Astarion/Wyll #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #emetophobia

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numberonetrashwitch · 2 years ago

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IT IS FINISHED

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Astarion/Wyll (Baldur's Gate) Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Mention of past trauma, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Sensuality, Really Astarion just recognizes that he wants to be better, Wyll finally allowing himself to want something for his own, both characters falling in love, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Sexual Abuse, Praise Kink, unlikely lovers

Summary:

Based on this tumblr interaction

Wyll has some daddy issues & Astarion has sexual trauma. Both want this to work, but are embaressed that the others might catch drift.

Thanks again to @hiriaeth and everyone commenting bc i have absorbed them.

#wyllstarion #ao3 fanfic #Wyllstarion fanfic #bloodpact fanfic #Baldurs gate 3 Wyllstarion #Baldurs Gate Astarion x Wyll #astarion x wyll #astarion/wyll

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cursed-critters · 1 year ago

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Wyll new kiss #2

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riviclouds · 3 months ago

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it's giving princess celestia

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maithefluffychicken · 1 year ago

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What if Astarion spends the night with Wyll's head on his lap, braiding his hair? What if Astarion learns to take care of his dreadlocks? What then, huh?

Because Astarion would. For Wyll, he would look for any excuse to have his hands in his hair and to help him relax. Of course, Astarion would say something like "I can't let the Blade of the Frontier look like a mess, come on, darling, I'll make sure you look decent".

Wyll would kiss the palm of Astarion's pale hand, and he'd smile, and he'd let Astarion do as he pleases, not moving to not scare the elf. He simply would enjoy the moment, hoping Astarion understands that this is intimacy too, that this is enough for Wyll, that Astarion doesn't need to be scared of what they have.

#wyllstarion #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion/wyll #bloodpact

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mommybookwyrm · 7 months ago

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WIP Wednesday

I actually finished chapter 2 of Heartstrings!!! Now I just need to edit and revise a little and it should be ready to post by the end of this week.

Anyways, enjoy a snippet from Wyll's POV below the cut.

The lower level of the ruins were now quiet, the undead protectors once again lay in the dust at the feet of the forgotten god of the temple. All but one of them that was.

Wyll watched as the silent skeleton walked along the edge of the large chamber, more or less avoiding the small group as they made camp among the bones of the place. It was more than a little surprising when they had risen from the sarcophagus, asking them for the value of a mortal life.

They had taken a long look at all of them but had stopped and looked almost perplexed when their gaze had reached Astarion, a gaze that had made the pale elf obviously uncomfortable.

Wyll started at the sound of tin plates clattering to the floor and the sound of Shadowheart and Lae'zel once again throwing strings of insults at one another. Wyll sighed, wondering how bringing the githyanki into their group was going to end in anything other than blood, especially after her attack on Astarion earlier that day.

A stern word from Felyn'da and some placating gestures from Gale soothed over the disagreement for the moment and the latter announced that dinner was ready.

Wyll had to admit that it smelled worlds better then the meal from the night before did. Gale had made some kind of stew with the provisions they had found which had included meat and spices.

He took the bowl that was offered to him and dug in immediately, flinching only a bit at the still hot meal.

"Any idea where Astarion went," Gale asked, holding another bowl most likely for the aforementioned elf.

Wyll quickly scanned the large chamber and found that he did not see him. "I'll go see if I can find him," Wyll said, shoving more food into his mouth before he placed his bowl down and stood.

It wasn't hard to find the other man. Across from were they had set up, one of the walls had half caved in at some point in the centuries and opened up to a small underground stream.

Astarion stood at the edge, staring up at the ceiling. Looking himself Wyll could see a wooden hatch that no doubt lead to the surface, the rotted remains of a ladder lay on the ground underneath.

"Planing on trying your hand at some fishing again?" Wyll teased.

Astarion only answered him with an annoyed grunt. Okay, Wyll supposed he deserved that.

"Gale is finished with dinner," Wyll said. "It's actually quite good this time."

"I'm not hungry," Astarion said simply. Wyll wanted to call him out on that lie. He knew that the other hadn't eaten anything during breakfast that morning nor could he remember seeing Astarion eat anything through out their search of the ruins.

"I'm sure it's not the sort of fare that you're used to," Wyll started, "but it does you no good to go without. You'll need your strength for our journey tomorrow."

Wyll couldn't read Astarion's expression as the other turned to look at him then. He couldn't read much of Astarion to be honest, except for earlier that day when the elf had been absolutely terrified.

He was a good actor though and Wyll could see when he made the transition. His body, almost always tense since Wyll had pulled him out of that pod the day before, rearranging into a casual fluid walk as he approached. He placed his hand lightly on Wyll's arm as he passed, smiling and Wyll could feel his face flush at the contact.

"Of course darling you're ever so right," he drawled. "Wouldn't want me to waste away now would we?"

Before Wyll could get his tongue to work to voice an answer Astarion passed and released him from the strange spell. He turned to watch the other walk away, forcing his eyes to stay focused on the other's white curls and refusing to let them linger further down.

He looked away and back to the water, which he now had a sudden urge to plunge himself wholly down into. Well, that was something.

Distantly he could hear mocking laughter that he chose to ignore.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic writer #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 wyll #bg3 astarion #wyll/astarion #wyllstarion #wyll #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion/wyll #wip wednesday #current wip

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