jesterravencroft

[jesterravencroft]

the rats have unionised

[jesterravencroft]

A jujutsu sorcerer’s growth curve isn’t necessarily a gentle slope. With a strong foundation and a little bit of sense, it just takes the slightest trigger to change a person. 

[jesterravencroft]

Nectar

Astarion x f!reader drabble

Tags: explicit | cunnilingus | biting | blood

His teeth grazed your most intimate areas, almost a threat, causing a tidal wave of fear and shameful arousal. You couldn't say with any certainty that he'd hold back the impulses you knew he held as he roamed your body; if you failed to ask him to stop, you'd likely be dead by morning. You couldn't blame him. The hunger was his nature, and his desire for your blood would always be stronger than that for your flesh.

He let out a barely audible growl as his tongue dipped between your folds, swiping across the swollen bundle of nerves that housed the unbearable tension you'd held all day. You shuddered, thighs squeezing his head that prompted a dark stare through hooded eyes. His grip on your legs tightened, nails digging into your skin and leaving painful indents that paled in comparison to the pleasure you felt in between your thighs.

Every lick, swirl and suck sent you further into a craze, blood rushing away from your head so quickly your ears pounded and hearing dulled. You whispered his name as you approached your peak, gripping that silver hair with a desperately tight grip, only spurring him on in his vigorous assault on your cunt. His tongue dipped inside you, lapping at your juices as if he were starved; and he was, but for the sweet nectar that ran in your veins.

"M-make me come...and you can suck me dry," you sighed, meaning every word.

That got his attention, his piercing eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie, before he delved deeper, harder, faster. You were so close, absolutely terrified amongst the lustful want of being able to sate him, completely. As his tongue returned to your nub, his fingers delved inside your dripping entrance, curling and teasing the very last of your restraint from you.

"Fuck, yes..."

He purred against your skin in response, and you fell apart, back arching and body writhing as the pulsing waves of ecstasy crashed over you again and again. He didn't stop, holding you still with a bruising grip as he continued to lap at you until you pleaded; stop, please...

The next thing you knew, his teeth were sinking into the soft flesh of your thighs, icy cold fading to an aching numbness. You looked down as he feasted, barely able to focus your eyes but intent on watching as the blood stained his lips and his eyes flashed a vivid red as he watched you through every second. His gaze almost held a thanks, amongst the glazed look of his desperate hunger and unimpeded lust.

Your head swam, deep red streams streaking your legs and splattering on the cold floor, but you let him drink. Just a little longer. Your last lucid plea was to stop, before the darkness overcame you.

-

"Good morning, darling," Astarion said, his sultry voice waking you slowly from your slumber.

You felt weak, dizzy, and as you opened your eyes the light caused you to wince in pain. His face swam into view; still stained, bright and happy.

"Morning," you managed to stutter weakly.

"I'm sorry if I went a little too far. You're just so delicious," he said, his warm breath ghosting the skin of your neck. "Not just your blood."

"Anything for you."

[jesterravencroft]

Cherry Wine

Astarion x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of blood/hunting, shameless flirting and a smidge of fluff

WC: 500+

A/N: Continuing the trend of naming my Astarion fics after Hozier songs because the combination is ✨chef's kiss✨ As always I try to keep reader gender neutral but as I haven't proofread this one particularly well please let me know if there's any slip ups!

You enter the firelit camp after your evening bathe in the nearby river, glad to have washed away the intense grime of the bog you'd been traversing for the last few days. You cast your gaze over to where Astarion lounges against a log, wine bottle in hand, his crimson eyes already fixed on you with a mischievous glint.

"Well, well, well," he purrs, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "If it isn't my favorite person in this whole wretched world."

You roll your eyes, failing in your attempt to hide your smile from the handsome vampire. "Spare me your flattery, Astarion. I might just faint from the shock."

He chuckles, his fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. "Oh darling, your heart can surely handle a few well-placed compliments from time to time."

You settle down beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "And what makes you so certain that I'm not immune to your charms?"

Astarion leans in closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "Because, my dear, I've seen the way your cheeks flush whenever I grace you with my presence."

You fight back a laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, you know that?"

He grins, his gaze smoldering as it meets yours. "Ah, but you love every bit of it."

You feign exasperation, throwing up your hands in mock defeat. "Fine, you win. I'm utterly captivated by your snark. Happy now?"

Astarion's laughter is low and melodic, "Delighted, actually."

As the night wears on, the camp grows quiet, your companions settling down in their tents, undoubtedly exhausted from what felt like endless days of battling amidst that miserable bog. Astarion however stays firmly planted by your side, silver hair seemingly glowing in the moonlight as he stares up towards the stars.

"You know," his tone soft, "despite my 'snark' as you so eloquently put it, I really do quite enjoy our time together."

Your heart skips a beat as his playful façade gives way to a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. "I know." your voice equally gentle.

He leans slowly towards you, gaze meeting yours once more, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "And if I were to do something that's shockingly out of character, would you be too surprised to stop me?"

Your breath hitches as his fingers brush against your jaw. "I guess we'll just have to find out."

And with that, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss fueled by weeks of teasing and flirtatious banter, of stolen glances and lingering touches.

Astarion's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his fingers tangling in your hair. You can taste the coppery tang of whichever creature he hunted earlier mingled with the cherry wine he's been leisurely sipping on all evening, a mixture you find unexpectedly intoxicating.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both pull away, breathless and dazed. Astarion's confident smirk fades into a genuine smile, his inquisitive eyes searching yours.

"Surprised?" he asks, his voice a low whisper.

You grin, all too aware that Astarion's keen hearing must be picking up the way your heart pounds in your chest. "Very."

He leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back. "Well, my dear, prepare to be surprised more often."

A/N: Welcome to another episode of Violet doesn't know how to end her fics 😌 Thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated as always 💕

[jesterravencroft]

Maybe some sleep headcanons with Astarion? (yea i heard elves don't need sleep but just imagine 👉👈)

Sleeping with Astarion (not like you think!)

Laying together with Astarion after a long, hard day was a different kind of bliss for you

Mostly you stayed awake until everyone fell asleep because then Astarion would finally move. He would crawl out of his bedroll to slowly walk towards you, quietly laying down behind you.

And every god damn time a sigh escaped your lips as you could feel his cooler body sliding in your bedroll behind you.

"Hi.", you quietly murmured as you felt a breath tickling your sensitive era. Even though you couldn't see him, you could feel his smirk as he gave your ear a quick kiss, noticing your shudder.

His arm would circle around your middle part, pulling you closer to him.

It was a nice contrast. The cool body of Astarion behind you, while the fire before you warmed your face.

"Everything alright?", a quiet question but both of you did not answer to that. It was after all another day without process.

You really wanted to talk with him. It was always different, when you two were finally alone and you could talk about topics you didn't mention in the presence of the others.

But alas, your eyes grew heavy as his slender fingers stroked your stomach after they sneaked under your loose shirt.

"Sleep, my darling. I will watch.", he reassured you, his deep, drawling voice lulling you into dreamland.

Please let it be eternity with him.

[jesterravencroft]

A LOVER'S FOLLY

"THEY DIE FOR LOVE —YOU KILL FOR IT."

-

PAIRINGS: Astarion & Female Reader

TAGS: 18+ sexual content (eventually), slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, contains Baldur’s Gate 3 spoilers!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: While this originally started as a one shot for @inklore's Haunted Hoedown, it has since turned into a mini series for the same writing challenge. I'm going to try and post every day but considering the state of where I live I might not finish the challenge on time. Regardless though, I will be finishing all twelve days! :)

MASTERLIST

-

PLAYLISTS:

magnificent bastard!

-

CHAPTERS:

bleed you dry

the rogue tax

if thoughts could tease

*next chapter arriving 2/22!

-

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

[jesterravencroft]

Astarion invented romance, he said so himself

[jesterravencroft]

tbh I guess I love Astarion that much bc he doesn't really treat sex as something sensual

I just point at him and Look it's me, me, he'd understand that

I - sadly - got used to be humiliated when ppl only talked about my body and not about me - me so seeing firsthand relationships being built with hugs and reassuring means a lot, really

Healing after abusive ex, ya know

[jesterravencroft]

Astarion with a fem! petite! elf reader

disclaimer: fem she/her reader, descriptions of sex, blood, manipulation. (it's tame but better to tag it anyways)

art by tirtyturtle

Imagine Astarion getting cozy with the most unlikely party member. A short innocent elf girl who is unsure of herself and has a terrifying journey ahead of her.

It begins with teasing. Astarion finds it so hard that a darling who shies away when spoken to and blushes at the slightest acknowledgment is the one that everyone goes to answers for. You feel his tadpole worming its way into your mind, just so that he can have a peek at whatever you may be thinking about. He shoehorns his way into your life, acting as if you belong to him. When you talk he steps in front and speaks on your behalf instead.

He fantasizes about feeding from your neck, more often than he should for a man that doesn’t even know if you like him at all. How easily his fangs could piece your flesh in your sleep, how you squirm and whimper but unable to wake as he drains just enough of your blood to stave off his hunger, how adorably dazed you are from his antics and confused given you didn’t know of him being a vampire yet.

Imagine Astarion developing an urge to protect you because of your reserved nature bc he believes that only he is worthy of such a task. Can’t have anyone else stealing his little juice box away. Not in 200 years has he been able to taste something so exquisite? He wants so badly to become a true vampire so that he can make you a vampire too. You notice small bite marks on your body and your actions become more and more sluggish. Out of guilt, he comes out about being a vampire.

“There’s something about me that I might’ve forgotten to mention.”

He expects you to be angry, livid almost for him feeding without consent but he couldn’t help it.

Instead, you gave him permission.

Now, he needed to pursue you.

Imagine Astarion using like his stress toy, wallowing in self-pity about his imprisonment with Cazador before he’s pushing cock into you. It takes everything out of him to not bite you in the midst of his strokes. It begins with him being gentle, reassuring, and almost witty with his words that make you blush. Once he’s close to climaxing, you feel fangs dig into your neck. You would expect him to feed on you, draining not just your innocence but your blood too…

He did not. He marked you. Making you his for as long as you walk beside him—and beyond. He would be the only vampire that could indulge in your blood.

[jesterravencroft]

IF THOUGHTS COULD TEASE

SUMMARY: At the tiefling party, Astarion uses his Illithid powers to offer you another memory.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,771

WARNINGS: Unresolved sexual tension, heavy petting, Illithid abuse at it's finest. Sort of contains spoilers for Act I?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, welcome to day three of Haunted Hoedown! The prompt I chose was why do you keep following me? but I used it pretty loosely to be honest, so... whoops?

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

The inner parts of the grove are bustling. Filled to the brim with celebratory bodies, everyone’s huddled up in their respective groups, talking amongst themselves over endless sloshes of ale that dizzy your brain. 

As the bonfire burns, you and the rest of your group glance around with interest. On either side of the party, merchants stand alongside tables of trinkets, grinning and guiding heavy pockets to their nicest wares, while, in the centre, a group of bards play joyous songs, singing along with a group that glides around in circles, dancing in patterned steps that onlookers like you can't help but watch.

“Gods, it’s such a rarity.” Pulling your attention from the dancers, Astarion sips a bottle of wine, turning to face you with a grin. “The whole… heroism thing.”

Narrowing your eyes, you give him a curious look, watching the way his gaze shifts between you and the bards, his lips only extending their excitement. “I guess being helpful has its benefits.” 

“Mm, like this free wine.” He nods —takes another long, careful sip, then smacks his lips. “Although, it’s certainly due for improvement. Tastes a bit of vinegar.” 

Standing at your other side, Wyll peeks around your frame to look at the both of you; a sudden look of interest filling his features. “True, but who are we to look a gift horse in the mouth?” 

After speaking, he offers Astarion a smug expression. One that the silver-haired elf reciprocates with an eye roll before he steps away, discarding any sort of verbal response in favour of moving further into the depths of the party. As he leaves you can’t help but snort, watching as Wyll chuckles and shakes his head, knowing exactly what he’s done. 

“Behave, Wyll. You know he isn’t fond of kindness,” you say, taking a sip of your own bottle. Inside, an amber ale tickles your lips, making you sigh in slight relief as the cool liquid slips down your aching throat.

The battle fought earlier had been rough. An ambush within the goblin camp’s prison had proved tougher than you anticipated, earning yourself a nasty lash to the throat that Shadowheart subsequently healed, still earning yourself a fair bit of bruising. 

Hours later, it still aches with every breath. Stinging with each sound that reverberates through your vocal cords as you pause to hear Wyll speak. 

“He doesn’t seem to mind your’s though.” 

While taking another sip, you raise your brow at his comment, watching the way he merely stares back, waiting for you to clue in. To realize that, despite attempting to hide your ever-growing niceties towards Astarion, it’s somehow become noticeable. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“Fangs,” he reiterates, pointing towards one of the merchant tables —towards Astarion who’s still chugging his wine as he eyes up some wares. “You’ve gotten close.” 

“Have we?�� You feel the aching of your throat uprise as you speak. Immediately feeling the pain send you into a fit of coughs, prompting Wyll to scoff. 

“You’re not very good at hiding it. Not like he is, anyway.”

As frustrating as it is, you know he’s right. Your deceptions are average at best. In the heat of a tense moment you can lie and cheat no problem but when it comes to Astarion and the way you’ve slowly grown more fond of his presence, it’s difficult to cloak.  

Humming in response, you take another sip of ale, hoping to wash away the pain before letting out a heavy breath. “I’m not hiding anything.” 

“No?” 

Offering the same smugness he gave Astarion just moments before, you quickly find yourself pushed to the edge, scrambling to find your footing within a conversation you never anticipated having.  

Sure, perhaps over the last few days it had become increasingly obvious that you and Astarion had grown rather close. Opting to choose each other’s company over everyone else’s, you could see the assumption brewing behind curious eyes. During raids, it wasn’t odd to see the two of you working together —you posing as the distraction while he went in for the kill from behind. And while looting, it was common knowledge at this point that the two of you would wander away to look for traps.

But obviously, it was all a symptom of continued happenstance. A build-up of time spent together without even realizing it. You weren’t friends by any means. Yes, you were fond of him in a way but, if anything, it was as if you were coworkers at best, working together when need be but still bickering off the clock. 

“I’m only nice to him because he’s nice to me.” It’s a childish answer. One that has Wyll grinning so wide it looks as if he might split in two, making you frown in response. 

“I’m just saying,” he says, pausing to raise his hands in innocence, even though he’s anything but. “The two of you seem to be connecting more and more at the hip as of late.”

“What, like you and Gale?” Your tone is uncharacteristically defensive. At least for Wyll. If it were Astarion you were speaking to the elf would hardly bat an eye. More than likely he’d just wave it off —change the subject and forget, but unfortunately, Wyll isn’t like that. 

“I didn’t realize you’d noticed,” he says sarcastically, watching the way you huff under your breath, taking one last sip before storming off, too tired to entertain the conversation further. 

It’s one thing to be teased by Astarion —with him, it’s practically expected. What with the way his voice carries within a conversation. Regardless of the subject matter, there’s always an inkling of sass in his words. A gentle beratement that often fills you with rage each time you’re at the receiving end of it. 

It’s the same feeling you get as you leave Wyll behind. Glaring forward while wandering the party, drinking your way through the outer rim, knowing it’s all futile. Now that Wyll’s seen the side of you that looks at Astarion as anything other than an annoyance, you’re doomed. Fated to hear a constant onslaught of questions and comments about your blooming camaraderie.  

As you trade your now empty drink for another, you scan the party until your eyes land on Astarion again, watching him slide up to a particularly tall tiefling who smiles at his presence. The two of them chat for a while, both of them leaning in, appearing more interested the deeper the conversation gets. 

It makes you smile seeing him almost happy. Considering that he’s almost always in a sour mood, it’s strange seeing such obvious enjoyment. To see his face light up amidst all the shit you’ve been through over the last few weeks. 

The only other time you’d seen him that happy was after he fed. After he tore his teeth from your sensitive flesh; a newfound energy coursing through his veins. The euphoria laced within his features was nothing short of breathtaking, and now that you know him a bit better you’re aware that when he spoke of the moment being a gift, for once he wasn’t lying. 

“You know it’s rude to stare, darling.” 

You nearly leap at the sound of his voice. Feeling its tone nestle into the crook of your neck, shamefully a soft yelp hurtles from your lips, causing him to laugh just as you turn on your heel. “I’m sorry, can I help you?”

Immediately he shakes his head and brings his wine to his lips, giving it a lengthy taste before licking his lips. “Just came to see what you want. Seeing as you’ve been relentlessly following me around with that little gaze of yours.”

“Have not,” you scoff, a little too quickly. Your eagerness to lie painting your true intentions in the dirt beneath you. 

“So your eyes haven’t been looking upon me and that gorgeous tiefling over there?”

As his brow quirks up you find yourself scrambling. Searching through your thoughts for some sort of excuse. Perhaps you could simply say that you’re tired. That the alcohol you’ve consumed has managed to perforate your brain —that you’ve lost all sense of vision as you awkwardly blink and force out a yawn. If the performance is good enough you’re sure you could pull it off…

“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired.”

Somehow still amused, Astarion watches as you replace your words with a drink of ale, gulping down a hefty portion that has him smirking through the edge of his lips. “You know I’m joking, right?”

“Hm?”

“About being rude,” he explains. “In fact I’m happy to welcome all sorts of gazes. The more the merrier, my dear.”

Your face screws into a confusing stare that has him narrowing his eyes, looking back with the kind of interest that has your tadpole slithering back and forth.

It’s been a few days since you last felt it move this much. The last being when you and Shadowheart were communicating during a particularly rowdy fight with some ogres. Back then, all it felt like were a few simple twitches back and forth. A moment of confirmation between two parties before the feeling was erased and you were fit to return to normal. Said moment didn’t take up space within your thoughts. All it was was there and gone in a flash, so for Astarion’s occupancy to feel so different suddenly interests you. 

“Is there a reason you’re trying to get inside my head?” 

You raise your brow while he shrugs his shoulders, both of you then standing in silence while the party rages on, wondering what will happen if you let him in. What you’ll see once you inevitably give in to curiosity and open the gates. 

“There’s always a reason.” 

“Care to tell me what that reason is?”

He ponders for a moment, dramatically glancing around the grove before honing his gaze onto the aforementioned tiefling who offers a wave. For a moment, both of them share a look, one that appears almost like a warning before Astarion refocuses on you.

“Isn’t the whole point of these things to show instead of tell?”

He has a point. An unfortunately, stupid and fair point that has you releasing an annoyed breath and nodding your head.

The power of the Illithid, while still greatly unknown to both of you, at base level is just another form of communication. A way to discreetly speak to one another in the form of offered memories. 

“Sure, but having an actual conversation works too, you know.”

Astarion scoffs then, taking another sip that has him licking the points of his teeth before running it along the seams of his lips. Overall, the sight is… nice. The way the organ in his mouth glides across the tips of his canines, threatening to spill his own blood before circling out. 

Even you have to admit it works in winning you over to some degree. 

“Aren’t you enjoying such powers?” As he speaks, he takes a step closer, his base of frame bumping ever so gently into your shoulder as he leans down toward your ear. “Does it not interest you, seeing the world from someone else’s eyes?” 

You crane your neck to look at him fully. To see the teasing expression take over and match the tone of his voice —how it ghosts the shell of your ear. Upon impact, it makes your breath catch inside your sore windpipe, threatening a cough you’re quick to suppress by swallowing another sip of ale.

“Because personally, I think it’s well worth the price of discarded conversation,” he continues. “Why bother wasting my time with words you might not understand when I can just push my thoughts into yours?” 

At that point, you’re actually confused. Lost in translation just as he predicted. You’re not sure what he means by claiming your lack of understanding but you don’t admit it. Instead, you merely just take a step back, eyeing him with suspicion as you slowly let the creature behind your eye accept his message. 

When you do he smiles against the rim of his wine bottle, staring you down with half-open eyes that project the feeling of hands. Soft palms cascading across bare skin. 

A violent shiver runs up your spine almost immediately. The air within your lungs once again catches in your throat as your brows knit together, trying to place where the hands are going. At first, it feels like they’re starting at your hip. For a moment, there’s a rough press —a tightened grip that wraps around the bone, filling the space with a bit of pressure before it slides down your thigh, drawing new patterns. But then you feel it on your other thigh too, tiptoeing across the top before it finds purchase at the outer edge.

“What are y—“ 

Still unaware of the exact intention of the memory, Astarion interrupts your questioning with a simple gesture. An index finger raised to his lips, signalling a silence you reluctantly obey as you feel the hands hold both sides of your thighs, their thumbs ebbing to and fro.

Swallowing hard, you twitch against their movement, pushing your legs together while Astarion watches, his eyes fully immersed in your reactions. The way your face nervously twists once the arrival of hot air cascades between your thighs. How it wafts across your skin like heavy clouds moving through an electrical storm.

The longer it goes on, the more obvious it becomes that he’s amused. That your ongoing discomfort is nothing more than a form of entertainment. A method of his own personal, sadistic torture that has you threatening to sever the connection. 

“Oh, don’t be such a puritan,” he says then, clicking his tongue as he moves a step closer to bridge the gap. “I’m just showing you what I plan on doing later tonight.”

“Tonight?” 

Before he answers, there’s a kiss placed to your inner knee. A needy smack of lips and teeth that drag upward as you stand.

In response your mouth falls open without you realizing, a soft gasp coming out that makes Astarion snort.

“Yes. Are you hard of hearing or something? Distracted maybe?”

You grit your teeth, trying to withstand every sensation that overtakes you. The way the hands drift and the mouths feed —both of them working in tandem as they travel to the same spot you can feel aching within you. 

“It’s alright if you are. I understand. Such feelings can be overwhelming when it’s been a while.” 

Breathing through your nose, you watch as he smugly downs the final sips of his bottle. Throwing his head back, he exposes his neck in a way that makes you tighten your lips together, trying your best to remain calm as the hands that fill your mind continue their ascent, eliciting twitching flesh in their wake. 

At that point, you know you should call it quits —close the doors and lock them up never to be opened again. But something is stopping you. Something pulsing at the back of your mind, filling you with interest.

It’s always been blatantly obvious that Astarion’s friendship has been nothing more than a ruse. A farce carried out only to keep you close. When he treats you with kindness there’s a hidden agreement that looms in the shadows. An unofficial contract that states his affections will be met with trust. With a loyalty that he’ll more than likely never return. 

From the beginning, his intentions have always been ill and you know this. You see it wherever he is —whenever you speak. You can feel its falseness itching your skull each time he touches your skin or calls you pretty names.

It’s what he’s doing now with the Illithid. In the caverns of your mind, he’s showing you the benefits of his allegiance. The potential perks you’ll receive if you’re able to prove your worth, and to put it simply, it’s tempting. And not just for the sake of sex.

Suddenly, there’s a finger that strokes you gently as you stand before him, questioning his authority in the form of a raised brow that’s returned by him discarding the memory. 

Once it’s gone you can feel your breath slowly begin to return. Every thought in your head is clearer, not necessarily crystal, but with fewer distractions you can finally see the hefty rise and fall of his chest. 

“I hope you have fun with your tiefling,” you say then, letting yourself grin in such a petty way that you see his jaw shift ever so lightly before you turn on your heel and walk towards your tent.  -

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjkchk (if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

[jesterravencroft]

Claudia Rankine, Citizen

[jesterravencroft]

just tripped over my own words so badly that i ended up saying "renjoy your wreekend" like scooby fucking doo to a customer

[jesterravencroft]

[jesterravencroft]

Took a short short break. With posting online.

So Here are the missing ones.

Feel free to guess in the comments who will be next☺️

A little hint they are from campaign 2!

[jesterravencroft]

.🌿🍊🌿.

this took me agessssss, but i love the way jester and fjord’s relationship has grown SO much!! travis and laura are both such brilliant players and watching them interact is always such a treat!!

[jesterravencroft]

[ID: A digital illustration of Fjord and Jester Lavorre from Critical Role. They are visible from the waist up, kissing. Fjord is pulling Jester in with an arm around her waist and Jester is reaching up to rest her left hand on Fjord's upper chest. They're both not wearing their outer coats, Fjord is wearing a sleeveless green jacket over a cream shirt and Jester is wearing a light blue dress. End description.]

"Can I kiss you?" Campaign 2 edition 💚💙