#AND ASTARION HAPPENED TO BE A ROGUE ELF TOO

[lokilysolbitch]

So much respect for all the astarion blorbo posting 🫡

the brainrot is setting in i woke up from a nap today and he was behind my eyelids

[nicollekidman]

can we hear the lyra lore 🥺🥺🥺 pls

omg bestie.... i'm still actively working it out which is why i keep talking about journaling but bare bones.... she's the only child of a powerful elf family in baldur's gate, her mother is a mystery to her and her father is in Money, she's always been weird and withdrawn but like. a Dreamer in some sense.... she learns archery early and spends a lot of time alone. i don't think she's ever particularly happy or emotive but she enjoys exploring (and she's terribly vain... wants to look just like her mother). then she gets a baby sister and dotes on her to the point where she's basically raising her alone in kind of an obsessive way. when her sister is young, things start to get weird with her parents, they're gone more and more, and when they're home they're.... strange. but they want for nothing, and lyra and her sister are happy and inseparable (i'm still deciding on her name). when her sister is 20ish she's murdered, and through some set of circumstances i haven't fleshed out yet, lyra figures out it was her parents, as a sacrifice to bhaal. she kills both her parents and burns down their entire house for good measure, both so that there is no trace but also for herself.

i think she spends the next 40-50 years alone, basically doing bounty hunter work for money and drifting along. she only speaks when necessary, becomes ruthlessly pragmatic and essentially uninterested in the general population. she's basically turned off everything except her Life Functions. she gets a reputation in the lower city as the Ghost and people leave her alone because she minds her own business unless provoked or on a job (and sometimes the kids will manage to get gifts from her... they learn to read her body language and approach on good days). she keeps her rich clothes and facepaints and always looks immaculate (when you look both dead and rich, no one gets close). i think she also sometimes lets herself be bought when she's bored but if she ever ends up genuinely vulnerable or lets anything personal slip to a patron, she kills them. i think probably she's looking for something/someone to make her come back to life but she doesn't know that's what she's doing..... like being so hungry you can't feel it anymore. she's not evil and she's not robotic she's just kind of in an emotional coma, she's not even really seeking revenge bc she knows it won't bring her sister back and she can't bring herself to care enough.

i want to flesh out more of who she was before the murder but i'm waiting for her to tell me lol.

but yes, this is why she is such a freak with astarion + the party, but this post is long enough skdjfghjfkdsl canon timeline lore is insane in a different way but who doesn't want to be murdertwins with a random traumatized vamp you stumble upon, yknow.

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 2 – Pool Party 🌊

This was supposed to be 500 words. It isn't. Also, it was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted drabble. I have no clue how it turned into angst/comfort. Nevertheless, I enjoyed writing it and hope you will enjoy reading it! ❤️

Day 1 - Strawberries, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: Insecurities, mild angst/comfort, implied nudity

It was yet another boiling hot day and the group was suffering. Having to wear heavy leather armour and full supply packs whilst encountering a veritable cornucopia of monsters certainly did not help their mood.

When you saw the glittering blue thread of the river on the horizon, you felt like falling on your knees and weeping tears of joy. The rest seemed to be just as excited as you at the prospect of washing the grime and dirt off their sweat slicked bodies. Even Lae’zel for once did not complain when Gale tentatively suggested that they continue on in that direction.

Your steps quickened and after another hour you finally felt a cool breeze caress your cheeks. You looked over at your rogue walking a little behind you, the gentle wind teasing his silver curls. Astarion was the least affected by the weather but even he seemed to visibly relax when he realised that they would be stopping shortly.

“Phew, soldier. It is hotter than the hells today. Can’t wait to go for a dip. In fact,” Karlach grinned, “can our leader be persuaded to stay here till tomorrow?”

“Well, it would certainly be good for the morale,” Shadowheart agreed, letting her pack drop with a thud. “I, for one, am not moving anywhere until I wash the viscera out of my hair.”

“Tsk, vanity is a vice, dear,” Astarion teased, moving to set up his tent.

“Says the vainest person in Faerûn and beyond,” Shadowheart shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Most certainly! But you see, it would be a sin against all creatures to deny them the opportunity to gaze in admiration upon my beauty. You agree my sweet, don’t you?” he grinned, looking at you fondly.

“Perhaps, although when it comes to looks, I’m afraid this lot certainly could dethrone you, Astarion. You are an attractive bunch,” you smile at your friends as they prepared to finally, finally enjoy the weather rather than suffer in the heat.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest, but I am just happy that we aren’t getting attacked for once. I am half-expecting something to jump out the bushes at any moment. We need to stay vigilant,” Wyll reminded everyone.

“Argh, monster hunters,” Astarion scoffed, “so paranoid.”

You didn’t hear Wyll’s reply, choosing to step into your tent and begin to shed the layers upon layers that you had on.

As you undressed, you scowled as you uncovered yet another scar. Spells healed cuts and wounds well enough, but unfortunately your body was covered in reminders of battles fought.

You tried not to think about. You had bigger, more urgent matters to attend do. But, as you thought of Astarion’s beautiful, unmarked face, you felt an ugly feeling rise as you thought of how a creature as perfect as your elf would think of you when the adventure would come to its inevitable end.

You knew he was fond of you. Knew that he was grateful for what you did for him. And maybe that would be enough for a while still. But you also were under no illusion about what would happen once it was no longer necessary for your merry little band to stay together. The end of the Absolute would probably mean the end of this alliance. They would all carry on their personal quests, fighting their battles, living their lives. And you would let them go. Let Astarion go too. Because you loved him and realised that there would be nothing worse than deny him the freedom that he so desperately fought for.

You heard splashing and laughter from outside the tent, making you smile. You didn’t feel like joining in, but perhaps you could go for a little swim once everyone settled in for the night. Yes, a midnight dip sounded heavenly.

Hours trickled by and finally everyone bid each other goodnight and soon all was still. You gathered your supplies and put on a thin cotton slip. It was not something that you would usually dare to venture out in, but everyone was clearly resting, so what was the harm?

Quietly, you slipped out and walked barefoot along the shore, careful to avoid the sharper rocks, and made your way away from camp.

As you were about put your things down, you felt the fine hairs on the back of your neck rise. Someone or something was watching you.

“Astarion, if you want to catch me unawares, then you shouldn’t have doused yourself in your signature scent. I could smell you before I could hear you,” you turned, your eyes locking with ruby ones.

“Oh, please! I was hardly being subtle,” he took a step towards you, “in fact, I was all but stomping my feet not to startle you.”

“Sure you were,” your lips quirked into a smile and you shivered, suddenly feeling very exposed as he levelled you with an intense, hungry look.

“Any particular reason for you waiting until now to go down to the river, hm? I thought you just couldn’t wait to cool down.”

You gripped the towel tighter, not wanting to talk about your insecurities. As far as everyone was concerned, you were the confident, daring leader. The one who threw yourself headfirst into the epicentre of any battle. And you would rather walk on red-hot coals than admit that you were self-conscious about your body to Astarion, out of all people. Being in a situationship with an impossibly gorgeous vampire did not mean that you felt worthy of being in a relationship with the said mind-numbingly beautiful vampire.

This wasn’t the most exposed you were, you all but shared a tent and were intimate on several occasions. But sex was about being lost in the moment, there was hopefully little opportunity for him to see the full extent of the damage done to your body over the years.

“Darling?”

Your eyes snapped to his fingers as he reached out to cradle your wet face in his hands.

Shit.

Were you crying? You so were not standing near naked in the middle of nowhere with your intoxicatingly beautiful lover and pathetically crying because you felt that you could never, ever hold a candle to him even on your best day. Except apparently, you were.

“I- I’m sorry. I guess the heat got to me. You should go back to camp.”

“I’m staying.”

“No,” you wanted to sound firm, but it came out far less certain than intended.

“Why?”

You pulled on the hem of your slip down subconsciously and looked away. Astarion was quick to catch on. His eyes softened and his hands fell to your shoulders.

“Darling, how many times do I have to tell you how beautiful you are for you to believe it? I can hardly keep away from you.”

“I know. But that’s hardly attraction. I am just, kind of, there. And you are grateful and, I suppose, maybe you-”

He scoffed. “Don’t insult me by insinuating that I have been forcing myself to come to your tent every night for the past several months. You were the first to tell me that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. And now, I very much want to do this.”

You saw a flash of a blade in your peripheral and then felt the fabric slide down as it fell to the ground. You dropped the folded towel you were still holding in a futile attempt to keep what was left of your clothes on you.

“Perhaps a more hands on demonstration of how I feel about you is in order. Time to be a man of deeds, rather than of words, so to speak.”

His lips found your neck as he threw the dagger on the ground and gripped your waist tight, pulling you closer to his body.

“But my scars-”

“Love, I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth unless it is my name, are we clear?”

“But-”

“You told me that my scars don’t define me. That I am more than just my past. It is baffling that you would show endless kindness to anyone but yourself. So let us not waste another moment. No more words.”

You nodded and your eyes fluttered closed, submitting to his eager hands.

“This is what happens when we have no opportunity for taking some time to ourselves. Yet another drawback of staying within earshot of everyone. We are overdue for a little private pool party, hm?” he said, lifting you up and carrying you to the river.

And then Astarion descended onto you, mapping your body with his lips, committing your sighs and moans to memory.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[awkwardauthorwrites]

What If (You Were Made For Me)

Word Count: 6.2k

Themes: pining, angst if you squint, two idiots in love, fluff

Summary: Halsin realises he’s in love with his best friend, Tav

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol. Like one swear word. I almost made myself cry writing this. 

(I haven’t written since The Devil Doesn’t Bargain, please be nice. BG3 and specifically this druid has me in a chokehold, your honour I love this man, I am feral for him, he consumes my every waking and sleeping thought)

Halsin watched Tav from across the campfire, his brow furrowed as she spoke to Astarion with a smile on her face. She had been avoiding him recently and no matter how hard he wracked his brain, he couldn’t seem to put a finger on why. It had started small, with going on supply runs with anyone except for him until she gradually stopped training with him, she steered clear of his favourite parts of camp, and eventually it built up to her making excuses to not spend any more time with him than completely necessary. The explanations she gave always sounded sincere, but it had all been happening for weeks, and now there she was, sitting on the opposite end of the campfire instead of next to him and laughing and talking with Astarion.

He felt himself begin to frown as Tav gave Astarion a playful shove, a laugh escaping her as the rogue tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders to pull her back in. He watched with bated breath as Tav’s eyes lit up when Astarion held his hand out in front of her again, slowly showing her how he twirled a coin in between his fingers and how to make it look like it disappeared with a flourish. Halsin couldn’t understand it - it felt like only a few weeks ago that Tav and Astarion had regarded each other with cool indifference, but ever since the days they took to recuperate she had practically been glued to the rogue’s side.  Tav took the coin from Astarion and attempted the sleight of hand herself, her face one of pure concentration. She made it to the final turn of the coin before she fumbled it and it slipped from her grasp, a low groan slipping from her as it fell to the floor.

Halsin didn’t want to admit how he was feeling as he watched them interact, but he hated it. His chest felt tight and his gut rolled with anger and jealousy. Especially when Astarion leant in to murmur something in Tav’s ear, his voice too low for Halsin to hear what he had said to make her face flush the most delicate shade of pink. She laughed again and shook her head, her nose wrinkling the way it did when she found something unbelievable. She nudged Astarion again, softer this time as he scoffed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head as she let the pale elf know she would be right back before she wandered into the treeline. Halsin watched her disappear from sight and wanted nothing more than to follow her and ask her what had happened, to figure out when everything had changed between them. The thing in his chest clenched tighter at his heart with every second she was gone and he was torn between waiting for her return or going after her. 

“You know,” Astarion drawled, breaking Halsin out of his thoughts. “You can go after her, if you’d like.”

“And you can mind your own business,” Halsin snaps back, feeling unlike himself as he glares at the rogue. “She’s more than capable of taking care of herself, especially when she’ll only be gone a few moments.” To his credit, Astarion doesn’t flinch at the druid’s harsh tone or at the way his eyes flash gold in warning to reveal the beast that is itching to be released.

“Oh?” Astraion smirks, his fingers twirling the coin Tav had been holding earlier with practised ease. “With the way you’re acting like a scorned lover I never would have guessed. Green may be your colour but jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Halsin’s fists clench by his side and before he can even think about what he’s doing he’s stood from his seat and stalking his way across to Astarion, his jaw tight with anger and annoyance. The more rational part of his brain is telling him to calm down, that he can’t beat Astarion to a pulp just because he had struck a (annoyingly accurate) nerve, but the bear inside him is fighting its way out and wants to - 

“Halsin,” Tav’s voice rings out from behind him, her tone sharp. He stops a few steps away from Astarion and turns to face her, his ire slowly seeping away as he looks at her. She looks equal parts confused and concerned at his out of character anger, although she also seems to be a little annoyed with him too from the glare she’s giving him. “I don’t know what Astarion said to piss you off, and I’m sure he deserves the punch you’re about to give him, but why don’t we leave the violence for the near daily threats we face, hm?” Her eyebrow is raised and she looks less than amused at the scene in front of her while Astarion dramatically places a hand on his chest, feigning outrage at her words.

“I…I apologise,” he mutters, embarrassment settling in his gut at his behaviour. He risks a glance at Astarion, who is watching him with vague interest and a hint of a smirk, before shaking his head and turning back to Tav. “I don’t know what came over me.” Her gaze softens as he looks back at her and she takes a few steps forward until she’s right in front of him, standing closer than she has been in weeks. Her hand grasps one of his fists to loosen his body language and she gently tugs at his sleeve.

“Come take a walk with me.”  It’s not so much a request as a demand as she lets go of his sleeve and takes his hand in hers and begins to pull him away from the campfire. Astarion begins to whistle the tune for a bawdy ballad and without missing a step Tav leans down to grab a rock and throws it at his head. She doesn’t stop to see if it hit him or not (because of course it didn’t, thanks to his ability to uncannily dodge every blow that comes his way) and leads Halsin into the treeline, ignoring how loudly Astarion is laughing behind them.

“What’s happening? Is something wrong?” Her touch is like magic, and if he didn’t know any better he would think she’s cast a spell on him with how fast the tension leaves his body as he wraps his hand around hers. All the anger, the annoyance, the jealousy that he had been feeling earlier fades away as she pulls him deeper into the woods until they come across the small river they use to wash up in. 

“You tell me,” she says, letting go of his arm once they reach their destination. She turns to face him, a fire in her eyes as she crosses her arms and looks up at him. “You’re the calmest person I have ever met. So tell me why you were about to swing at Astarion with more anger than I saw you direct at Minthara when she tried to raze the Grove to the ground.”

“Astarion-” Halsin breaks off, feeling slightly uneasy with the glare she’s directing at him. He had seen her use the look more times than he could count, but it was never directed at him. “It was nothing. It was stupid.”

“Clearly it wasn’t nothing because you looked seconds away from shifting into your bear form and ripping him to shreds,” she snaps. Halsin’s head dips down and he runs a hand through his hair warily as her tone suddenly makes him feel like he’s a boy all over again being chided by his tutors. Tav sighs and she steps forward slightly, her hand brushing his. “Look at me,” she says softly, the anger draining out of her voice. 

Halsin lifts his head fractionally to look at her and sees nothing but kindness and concern in her gaze. Her expression is soft as she steps closer, and he itches to pull her into his arms and never let go but he can’t. He can’t because she is his closest friend and he doesn’t want to scare her away and despite believing the heart should be able to roam free he isn’t sure if hers belongs to Astarion or not and he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. 

“What did he say?” Tav asks again, her voice gentle. “I’ve never seen you that angry before, Hal, so it can’t have been stupid.” Halsin’s heart thuds in his chest as she steps so close he can feel the heat from her body, and the way the nickname she’s given him rolls off her lips makes him want to fall to her feet and beg for forgiveness. 

“He called me a scorned lover,” he mumbles angrily, turning away from her again. His face feels hot under her gaze and he doesn’t have it in him to watch her reaction as he repeats the rogue’s words. “He insinuated I was jealous of him because you’re spending more time with him than me.”

“Oh.” Tav blinks, clearly not expecting that answer and stumbles back a few steps, her teeth tugging at her lower lip in a nervous habit that set Halsin on edge every time she did it. “So you...you were going to hit him? Because he made some false, asinine insinuation that he and I were together and I had tossed you aside?” Halsin can’t tell if she sounds angry or not and he’s suddenly apprehensive at replying to her. He can usually read her like the back of his hand - and she can do the same for him - so why couldn’t he tell what was running through her mind right now?

“Is it false?” he asks, turning to face her again, his voice quiet. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, you’ve been spending your time with him. How could I not think that?” Halsin knows he’s said the wrong thing the minute the fire flashes back in her eyes and she steps closer to him again, her finger prodding him in the chest as she speaks. 

“So what if I was seeing him? We’re not together Halsin, we never have been. You don’t get to throw punches at every person I meet just because I spend a little time with them!” Her voice rises steadily as she speaks and she turns her back on him and takes a few steps away, a hand running through her hair in frustration before she whirls back to face him. “I’m not seeing Astarion, by the way, and not that it matters, but I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“So why not me?” he blurts out, his eyes shining gold in suppressed rage. “Why is he the one you spend your time with and not me? Why does he get to steal you away from me? Why can’t I be the one to make you laugh for hours and be the sole recipient of your affection and time?”

“You-” Tav lets out a hollow laugh. “You’re joking, right? I’ve waited months - months - for you to stop looking at me like a child that needs protection. For you to look at me the way I’ve wanted you to since the moment we first spoke properly at that party after we saved the tieflings and the Grove. And now you start acting like you want me back?” She’s not shouting, but every word has Halsin flinching as if she had. “Now that I’ve finally decided I shouldn’t pine after you anymore because I’m nothing more than your best friend and you’ll never look at me the way I want you to?”

“You…” Halsin can feel his heart pudding in his chest at her revelation. He feels like someone has just yanked a rug out from underneath him and he’s free falling, but at the same time his heart soars knowing she feels the same way as he does. That she wants him just as much as he wants her. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you just tell me?” He reaches out so he can touch her, so he can hold her. “I never thought…I didn’t want to let myself hope-” 

“How could I tell you?” She steps away before he can touch her and he swears his heart cracks as her eyes go misty and tears begin to well up. “You’re my best friend, Halsin. How was I supposed to tell you that somewhere along these months of travelling you’ve tripped me up and I’m head over heels in love with you?” The tears fall down her face and she wipes at them angrily. “How was I supposed to tell you that after you slept with someone else only a few days after I drunkenly came onto you?”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of her tears, as he vaguely recalls the evening she’s talking about. They had stopped for a much needed break at a tavern and every single one of them had gotten ridiculously drunk as they unwound for the night. She had come up to him, her face red from either the alcohol or nerves and had run a hand down his chest in a way that set every nerve of his alight as she seductively murmured in his ear and asked him to join her in her rooms for the night. He had declined, even though every part of him screamed not to. He didn’t want her to regret things in the morning when she woke and had a clear head, he didn’t want to put their friendship at risk like that. A few nights later in the same tavern an elven warrior had come over to him when they were all significantly less drunk and had barely finished propositioning him before he whisked them away to a room for the night. 

“Tav,” his voice is hoarse and he feels like someone is running a sword through him. She never brought up asking him to sleep with her in the following days and he had assumed that meant she was embarrassed or didn’t remember doing it. When the elf had come up to him later and asked the same from him he never stopped to think about how it would make her feel. How it would look to anyone else. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks eventually, “because you’re in love with me?”

“Yes,” she takes another step away from him as he tries to get closer. “I’m not proud of it, and seeing your face drop every time I made an excuse not to be around you felt like someone was shoving a dagger into my heart,” she puts her hand to her chest, the tears falling freely down her face now, “but I had to do it. You…you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more and I couldn’t be around you because it killed me to know you would never feel the same. The final nail in the coffin was when you slept with that elf. They were fucking stunning and I knew then you would never want me like I want you.”

“How can you say I don’t want you like that?” he rasps. “Have you not seen the way I’ve looked at you? Do you know how much effort it took to resist you?” He tries to inch closer to her, his body screaming to wipe her tears away and pull her into a tight embrace. 

“Congratulations, would you like a medal?” Her tone is sarcastic as she slips away from his touch yet again. “Well done on showing some restraint with me when the Oak Father knows you’ll fuck anyone else with a pulse.” Her breathing is heavy as she glares at him in equal parts anger and heartbreak. “You thought Astarion and I had something going on and you almost ripped him to shreds. Imagine how it felt for me, watching you take someone else to your bed.”

“You’re right,” he admits. “How many times have I done this to you? How many times have I pushed you away, assuming I know what’s best for you when you’re more than capable of deciding yourself who you want to sleep with. Who you want to be with.” He takes a deep breath and he lowers his walls so she can see just how much she means to him. “You’re everything I want - everything I have ever wanted. And you always will be.” His words have the opposite effect he was hoping for and she sinks to the ground, a gut-wrenching sob leaving her as she covers her face and begins to cry. 

He falls to his knees beside her, his arms reaching out to pull her into his embrace and tell her just how in love with her he is, but he hesitates inches away knowing she will only pull further away from him if he follows through. His hands land uselessly at his lap and he feels his own eyes burn as tears threaten to well up at the sound of her anguish. He blinks them away, he hasn’t earned the right to be upset, not when he’s hurt her so deeply. 

“I understand if you don’t believe me,” he says instead, his voice low and full of emotion. “If you tell me to leave right now, I will. Or if it will make you feel better to yell at me some more I’ll stay and take it. I’ll do whatever you want - whatever you need.” He pauses, hoping the words he’s about to say don’t hurt her further. “Please believe me, Tav.”

“Would you have told me?” she asks, her voice thick with tears. “If you hadn’t thought I was with Astarion, would you have ever told me?” She looks up at him and her red-rimmed eyes only cleaves his heart further in two. “If you didn’t think my heart belonged to somebody else would you even have realised how you feel about me?” He pauses as she speaks; he doesn’t want to lie to her, but he knows in his soul she won’t be pleased with the answer he’s going to give her. 

“No,” he whispers eventually. “It took seeing you with him to realise I was in love with you, and I wish every day that I hadn’t needed that reminder. I should have seen it the moment we met, the way you made me feel…” He lets out a shaky breath and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m an idiot.” Tav inhales sharply at his words and nods to herself, her jaw clenching tightly as if she’s trying to stop herself from falling apart again. 

“Well, you won’t hear any arguments from me.” She looks up at him for a few seconds before she looks away again, tears welling back in her eyes as she stands up. “I’m tired. I’m going back to camp.” She doesn’t ask him to follow her, but he does anyway, stumbling to his feet as he follows her back through the trees. He walks in silence by her side as she leads them back to camp, his body heavy and his mind spinning. The one person he wanted in the world was right next to him and he had never felt so far away from her. They return to the camp and all eyes are on them, especially when they take note of the tears that have yet to dry on Tav’s face. 

Astarion sits up as she walks over to him and throws her arms around his shoulders and begins to sob into his shirt. The vampire clearly doesn’t know how to react, but after a moment he wraps his arms back around Tav and holds her close, walking her away so that everyone in camp isn’t privy to her breakdown. Halsin bites the inside of his cheek and looks away as Astarion does what he can’t and comforts Tav as she cries. He knows now that she doesn’t have romantic feelings for the pale elf, but that doesn’t stop his chest from clenching tightly as Astarion’s hands rest on her waist and run through her hair comfortingly. 

“You’re an idiot, you know,” Shadowheart sidles up to him, her tone dry. She has an unamused expression on her face as she stares up at Halsin, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Karalch gives her a gentle nudge and offers Halsin an apologetic smile. 

“I know,” he agrees instantly. “I want nothing more than to give her the comfort he’s providing her right now, and it breaks my heart that I’ve caused her this much pain without even realising it. Seeing Astarion hold her like that…I wish it was me, but I’m glad she kind find some solace in someone here.”

“She doesn’t love him, you know. They’re only friends.” Shadowheart nods her head towards Tav and Astarion. “He’s been trying to help her catch your eye for a while now.” Halsin blinks, the information catching him off guard.

“Astarion is trying to help her?”

“And you,” Shadowheart turns her head to glare at him. “Astarion has been trying to help her with her confidence so she could test the waters and flirt a little with you. And then you had to go and reject her when she finally tried to tell you how she felt only to sleep with someone else a few days later?” The cleric looks mad now, and Halsin has no doubt in his mind that if they were in a more secluded part of the camp she would be yelling and cursing him out for treating Tav the way he had. 

“Nothing I say will ever be able to erase what I did, no matter how much I wish it could.” He lets out a sigh and looks over at Astarion and Tav again. The rogue has pulled her across the camp to her tent and through the open flaps he can see she’s lying down on her bedroll, her head in Astarion’s lap as his fingers run through her hair. “How long has he been trying to help?”

“Does it matter?” Shadowheart asks, her tone sharp. “You never even looked twice at Tav until you thought Astarion was interested in her. No one wants to be made a choice after they become unobtainable - or in this case assumedly unobtainable.” There’s a soft expression on Astarion’s face as he comforts Tav, one Halsin has never seen before. For a split second he wonders if she’s better off without him in her life, whether that’s as a friend or more, but the selfish part of him can’t bear to leave her. 

“Just give her some time, soldier,” Karlach steps forward, ignoring the glare Shadowheart shoots at her. “She’s hurt, it won’t do any good to speak to her right now, you’ll only push her further away. Give her a few days.” He gives Karlach a nod and looks back over at the campsite, wanting to disappear into the trees and give Tav the space she clearly needs, no matter how much it will hurt him. 

Shadowheart and Karlach walk away, leaving Halsin alone again. He watches Astarion cup Tav’s face in her hands and wipe away the last of her tears, muttering something he’s too far away to hear before he kisses her on the forehead. Tav lets out a weak laugh and shakes her head, and the scene grips Halsin’s chest painfully tight. He shakes his head and walks back into the treeline, his eyes glowing gold as he shifts into his cave bear form and darts into the woods.

*

One Week Later

Halsin trudges back into camp, feeling weary and more than a little exhausted, and is a little surprised to see everything is still in its place and the group hasn’t moved on without him. He shifts back into his elf form, shuddering slightly as his body protests and walks towards his tent,  giving awkward smiles and nods to Gale and Jaheira, who wave in greeting at him.

“Hey, soldier!” Karlach grins when she sees him, raising her tankard of ale in greeting as she bounds over. “Welcome back, it’s good to see you.” For a moment it looks like she’s about to pull Halsin into a hug, but decides against it at the last minute. She watches his eyes dart around the camp, no doubt looking for Tav or even Astarion, and his hopeful expression falls when he sees neither. “She’s in town gathering supplies,” the tiefling lowers her voice considerably so no one can hear them. “We’re running a little low after she all but forced us to stay here and wait for you to come back.” Halsin looks at her in surprise, but she just shrugs as if she hadn’t said anything and takes another sip of her drink. 

“I assume Astarion has gone with her?”

“You assume wrong.” The white-haired elf walks by, a book in his hands. “I’d say it’s good to see you again but…” Astarion grimaces and takes in Halsin’s dishevelled appearance. A week of wandering through the woods as a bear has left him looking more than a little worse for wear, with dirt and dust covering him from head to toe, and what felt like a small bird’s nest worth of twigs tangled in his hair. “You look like shit. You should get cleaned up before she’s back, the gods know she’ll only be more upset at you dragging yourself back here looking half dead.” He walks away and settles outside his tent, sipping idly from a glass of wine as he continues to read.

“Wyll went with her,” Karlach fills the awkward silence. “We needed a lot, so he’s gone to help her carry everything.” Her gaze softens as she looks him over, taking note of his tangled hair and the dust on his clothes. “She’s missed you, you know. She’ll be glad you’re back.” Halsin feels something in his chest loosen at the words and he hopes the barbarian is right. 

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Soon, probably. I’m not saying Astarion was right but uh…you might want to consider getting cleaned up before then. No offence,” Karlach wrinkles her nose playfully and Halsin can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, the sound foreign to his ears. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing as he catches on a large knot and lets out a quiet sigh. The thought of Tav coming back to see the state he’s in pushes him to move, and he mutters a quick see you later to Karlach before making his way to his tent to grab some clean clothes and his supplies. 

He’s soon down by the river, trying not to think about the last time he stood there and the heartbreak on Tav’s face as he strips down and scrubs the week in the forest from his body and his dirty clothes. He pulls more twigs and leaves out than he thought possible and it isn’t long before he’s walking back to camp, a towel slung over his shoulder and his now cleaned and dry outfit in his hands while he wears fresh clothes. Karlach is still drinking when he returns, her feet propped up on a bench as she basks in the sun, Shadowheart curled beside her as she sips from her own goblet. 

“Halsin?” He would recognise her voice anywhere. He turns around to see Tav a few feet away, a large supply pack hanging from her shoulder. It falls to the floor with a thump as she takes a hesitant step forward. “Is it really you? Are you back?” Her voice is as soft as a whisper, and he barely registers as Wyll picks her discarded pack up and walks away, giving them both some much needed space. Halsin feels like his heart is caught in his throat. All at once he wants to pull her into his arms, he wants to fall to the floor in front of her and beg forgiveness, he wants to hide from her again but he also wants to yell from the mountains that he loves her and will do anything to fix what he broke. 

“Oak Father’s blessings, Tav,” he places his fist on his chest in greeting, his voice hoarse. He takes a small step closer to her before hesitating. He wants her to decide where they go from here. She is all he wants, but he doesn’t want to push himself onto her. He doesn’t have time to finish the thought in his head before she’s dashing across the camp and throwing herself at him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly, her legs dangling because of their height difference. Her head is buried in his neck and for a moment he forgets how to breathe let alone hug her back. He’s stunned for a few moments, and more than a little relieved that she hasn’t outright told him to shove off, and his arms wrap around her waist, holding her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t reply, and instead she holds onto him a little tighter and he can feel the collar of his short go damp as she begins to cry silently. His eyes slip closed as he pulls her closer and he wills himself to keep it together as he uses one of his arms to grip her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist so that they aren’t dangling in midair. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his heart stuttering as she doesn’t pull away or snap at him not to touch her and he’s only vaguely aware that the rest of the camp is being ushered away by Shadowheart and Karlach so the pair can have their moment. Once everyone has disappeared, Tav pulls back and steps out of Halsin’s arms. He itches to pull her back but the glare she’s sending him makes him reconsider. 

“Don’t ever do that again!” she snaps, pushing him slightly. She doesn’t do it with enough force to move him, but surprise and confusion flits across his face. “You can’t just disappear like that for a week, Halsin! No one knew where you were, you didn’t leave a note - what if something had happened to you? How was I supposed to know you weren’t hurt or captured or even dead?”

His mouth flops open uselessly at her reprimand, an apology on the tip of his tongue that suddenly feels unbearingly inadequate. He can see it on the exhaustion on her face, in the dark rings under her eyes. He thought leaving and giving her some space was the right thing to do, but just like when he had slept with that elf he hadn’t stopped to consider how it would make her feel. At the time he didn’t think she would care he was gone - she was an inconsolable wreck when he left - he hadn’t realised that Tav, let alone anyone else, would have no way of getting into touch with him while he was away. The silence between them is so loud that his ears ring, and yet he still can’t find the words to say. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover the pain he’s put her through.

“You’re… you’re not hurt, right?” she asks, the anger leaving her voice as she stares at him, assessing him for any damage that she can’t see. He tries to respond with a quip or a clever comment, but he can’t. The guilt weighs too heavy on his heart right now.

“My pride, perhaps.” He offers her a weak smile as she scrutinises him. “I didn’t mean to worry you while I was away. I just wanted to give you some space.” She opens her mouth to reply but it seems it’s her turn to be unsure of what to say. She wraps her arms around her waist and looks around at the now empty camp and tilts her head towards the unlit fire. 

“We should probably talk. I promise I won’t shout and poke you this time.” A weak smile falls on her lips as she makes her way over and sits down on one of the logs. Halsin gives her a weak smile and follows, sitting on the tree stump opposite her. He has so many thoughts rushing through his mind, so many things he wants to say to her, but when he opens his mouth to say them all that comes out is an incoherent mumble followed by a low sigh. 

“I don’t know where to start, either,” she laughs nervously and runs a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry for how I reacted last week. I didn’t mean to explode on you. It’s not an excuse, but I was just so hurt and angry and I felt a little betrayed and…I’m sorry.”

“I deserved it.”

“Maybe,” she gives him a faint, teasing smile and he feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Hal…” She hesitates again, chewing on her lower lip. “Did you mean what you told me? When you said I was everything you want and that you-” she breaks off, her face flushing, but the words hang in the air. Did he mean it when he said he loved her? His face softens and he nods. 

“I did. I meant every word and I still do.” His voice is soft as he slides into a seat closer to her and holds a hand out in offering. He’ll let her decide if she wants to take it. From here on out she makes the calls on where they stand. He can live with being just a friend to her if it means having her in his life. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way about me anymore, given all that’s happened, but I want you to know.” She fidgets in her seat and her face turns the most enticing shade of pink as she places her hand in his and squeezes gently. Halsin has to struggle not to pull her onto his lap and wrap his arms around her, but he reminds himself that she’s in charge here. 

“I meant what I said too. Somewhere along the way while we’ve travelled I...I just fell so hard and fast for you. You mean the entire world to me, Hal. I don’t know what I would do without you.” She swallows and looks up at him and how did he ever think she didn’t have feelings for him when she looked at him like that? He was blind to have not seen it before. “I’m not going to lie, it stings that you only wanted me after you thought I was taken by someone else. But...I’m selfish. I love you, Hal. I-I’m putting my heart on the line here, I want to be with you. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine.”

“Tav,” he whispers, pushing himself to his knees in front of her. “My heart does not stir easily, but…” he pauses to let out a quiet, warm chuckle. “I feel like it never truly started beating until I met you. Nature outdid itself with you, and the Oak Father will have truly blessed me if he allowed you to be by my side. My heart is yours, as is every other part of me.” Tav lets out a breathless laugh at his words and sinks down so she is also kneeling in front of him, her hand winding around his shoulders so she can fiddle with his unbound hair. 

“And mine is yours,” she murmurs, a smile flitting across her face as his hands come to rest on her waist. He pulls her onto his lap like he’s wanted to since he first realised he had fallen for her, and he’s rewarded with a beautiful blush and coy smile.

“You’re all I want. I don’t even want to look at anyone else but you.” He leans in, his lips brushing across her jaw softly before he places a kiss on her cheek. “My love, my heart, my soul; they’re all yours.” Her breathing hitches and her fingers tangle themselves in her hair in response and she leans in, her lips a breath away from his

“Halsin, may I kiss you?”

“I was hoping you would ask.” He closes the gap between them, his lips brushing hers tenderly once, twice and a third time before he grips her hips and kisses her like he’ll never have the chance to again. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the feeling of her hands in his hair, or the sweet sounds she makes as he pulls her impossibly closer, but he relishes the feeling all the same as they more than make up for their lost time.

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 1

~~~

Author’s Note: I have barely been writing anything (I usually write for the Good Omens fandom) since I started playing BG3, but then a few days ago I felt compelled to start on *something* for this fandom that has completely taken over my mind. I usually post on AO3 but for some reason I wanted to post a first teaser-chapter here on Tumblr.

So here it is, my first (unbeta’d) venture into the BG3 fandom. I have no idea where this is going except that the endgame is a happy ending for Tav and Astarion.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (Mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking

Summary: You thought knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… Now you do.

~~~

You watch him laugh as Shadowheart leans closer to whisper something in his ear, and the unwarranted jealousy that has your chest aching leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He may be sharing your bed now and then, but you have no right to him. For all you know, he might be spending his other nights with each and everyone in your camp. And that is his prerogative; pretty words aside, Astarion has never promised you anything other than fantastic sex.

A bitter smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You are sure he thinks he has you wrapped around his finger. That he has convinced you that this means more to him than it actually does. The sigh leaves your lips before you can stop it, but it doesn’t really matter, because none of the others hear you, too busy listening to Gale regaling another story about his ex.

Annoyed with yourself you rise, an excuse prepared on your tongue in case anyone questions your departure from the merriment. The lie remains unspoken and you’re relieved when you can slink into the shadows unnoticed. Relieved, but also perhaps a bit sad. It’s funny, you’ve spent most of your life aiming for anonymity, to stay under the radar. The unexpected friendships you’ve made since the kidnapping has unravelled all of that. Have made you aware of the dark and empty space in your heart you’ve successfully ignored until now.

Except it isn’t empty anymore.

It happened gradually, and without your permission. A dashing pale rogue stealing your affection when you weren’t looking. Because yes, while you know that his only reason for talking his way into your bed was manipulation, he has unintentionally shown you glints of his real self during your time together. He’s a complicated mess, just like yourself, and you love him. Love everything about him, even though it hurts.

So maybe he has you wrapped around his finger after all, because if you had any sense, you would end this thing between you. You should, but you are a selfish being. One day Astarion will realise that he doesn’t need to use sex to feel safe with you, but until that day comes, you will greedily accept every scrap of attention he gives you.

“Pathetic.”

“Talking to yourself, darling? Or have you made another furry friend when I wasn’t looking?” Astarion gracefully — why is that even when he’s pleasantly drunk, the elf manages to appear graceful? — sits down next to you in the grass. “You already have three of them in the camp, surely that’s enough?”

“Three?” You try to gather your thoughts, but it’s difficult when he is this close to you. “Scratch, the owlbear cub, and…?”

“Halsin, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat dumbly. True, the druid was in his bear form when you first met, but something in Astarion’s demeanour makes you suspect that that isn’t what he meant. Images of Astarion undressing Halsin floods your mind. Halsin is a handsome and powerful man, so it would make sense for Astarion to seduce him too. Just like he had with you.

“Why are we sitting here, by the way?” Astarion shifts to lean on one hand, his face tilted back to take in the full moon. “Wanted a more romantic setting than your tent this time, darling?”

Oh. So you are the chosen one for the night. You were certain it would be Shadowheart, considering.

“Are you alright, Tav?”

For a moment you let yourself believe that the hesitation you hear in his voice is founded on genuine concern. That he truly cares beyond the deep-seated need for self-preservation ingrained in him. But the illusion can only last so long. You know enough of his history not to hold his actions against him, but right now you’re not in a headspace to pretend that everything is fine. And yet, you try.

“Of course I am.” You hold back a flinch when you hear the acid lacing your words like a toxin. It gives too much away, so you do the only thing you can think of. Your hands are already grabbing fabric before you have finished your thought, pulling him closer before he has time to examine your statement too closely. Before he can figure out your lie.

The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the hot mouth claiming yours. You might regret it tomorrow, but right now, this is exactly what you need. In Astarion’s arms, you can forget everything but him and what he gives you. Around other people he can seem petty and cruel, but when he’s with you like this… this is different.

Or least that’s what you tell yourself. You cling to the illusion that this is special, and you succeed — until you feel yourself leaning your head to the side, offering your neck.

Astarion doesn’t ask it of you, he never does. It’s always you that wordlessly gives him what you believe is what he truly wants.

And this time it reminds you that deep down, this is just a transactional act for Astarion. Nothing else. He doesn’t care about you, not really.

After you’re both sated, you drift off to sleep without meaning to. It has been a taxing day, both physically and mentally, and the last thing you see is Astarion looking down at you with an indiscernible expression in his red eyes. Almost as if you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. Except that doesn’t make any sense, because to you it feels like he saw right through you the first time you met.

Some time later, you’re vaguely aware of strong arms lifting you from the damp grass. You must’ve made some noise, because you feel a warm breath against your ear.

“Hush, my darling, you don’t want the others to wake up.”

Exhaustion drags you back under, and when you next wake up, you’re in your tent. Alone.

~~~

[zorosdimples]

DUSK, RESPLENDENT

pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).

word count ⟢ 1208

notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!

It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.

You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.

It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.

You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.

As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.

“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”

Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”

“And if it is?”

“He should join.”

You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”

Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.

“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—

“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”

Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.

You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”

Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.

He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.

The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you’re connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.

When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.

One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.

You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.

A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.

“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.

Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.

[littlejuicebox]

Dadstarion prompt - Astarion responsible for watching Gale and something happens that makes Tav mad! Nothing serious but you know how kids draw on the walls and stuff? Something silly and cute like that!

Stuck

This prompt is very cute! Thanks for all the submissions, I will be working through several of them when I have time. You guys all had great ideas!

Summary: The twins are here, and Papastarion is primarily on Gale duty. He's trying his best, but balancing a family and work is proving to be very difficult, indeed. Can be read as a OneShot but it’s also part of my Dadstarion series.

Tags/Warnings: fluff, dadstarion, parenting, children, very mild angst with comfort, lmk if you see anything else

Word count: 1.9K

-----

Astarion is exhausted. 

In comparison to the twins, the first month with newborn Gale had been a breeze. But two wailing infants had both the silver-haired elf and his little love on edge constantly. The pair of babes seemed to egg one another on, greeting one shrill cry with another; an hour of silence was an absolute luxury nowadays. 

The family were in the midst of one precious modicum of silence now, and his drained wife had quickly snatched the opportunity to rest in their bedchambers. The poor woman always had a newborn attached to her breast or a toddler wrapped around her leg, it seemed. Astarion stepped in where he could, but unfortunately he did not have the anatomy necessary to help with certain parts of parenting. So daddy was primarily on Gale duty nowadays.

Gale had also been struggling, in his own way. The change in his parents' attention had caused the previous ball of sunlight to turn surly. This had been anticipated, of course, and his parents knew this adjustment would take time. But catering to three needy children and a wife still recovering from childbirth had Astarion at his wits end. Trancing is certainly an efficient form of regaining energy, but even he could only go so long on a deficit.

The father hears a knock at the front door, just as he’s placing a plate of breakfast in front of his eldest. The silver-haired boy is eyeing the food, his nose wrinkled in displeasure, always the spitting image of his father in his mannerisms.

“Daddy, what’s that green stuff on my eggs?” He asks, his tone tipping up into a whine. 

“Chives, Gale,” Astarion responds, perhaps a smidge too harshly, wiping his hands on a towel as he exits the kitchen and crosses the foyer to the front door, “You like chives, little prince, you always eat your eggs like this when mommy makes them.”

The three year old eyes the eggs suspiciously and then quickly swipes them under the table as his father walks away. Their mutt, Apple, eagerly snatches up the offering with her sticky pink tongue. 

Astarion swings the front door open and dramatically sighs with relief, “The reinforcements are finally here. Thank the gods. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see you two.” 

Shadowheart and Lae’zel stand in the entryway, unloading their bags. 

“Good to see you, too, Astarion. Our travels were fine, thanks for asking,” The cleric responds, rolling her eyes at the retired rogue. Gale comes running out of the kitchen to greet the two women, instantly wrapping himself around Shadowheart’s limbs with a babbled, excited greeting. Apart from Uncle Gale, Auntie Shadowheart was easily his favorite of his parents’ friends. 

“I would like to be clear that I am only here because Shadowheart has forced me along,” Lae’zel states, assessing the elven man coolly, “You look terrible. I’ve never seen your hair like this before.” 

Astarion is about to retort when a sharp wail echoes throughout the foyer, followed by a nearly identical one from the second twin. 

“Let’s go see if we can help Tav,” Shadowheart beckons Lae’zel, already heading toward the master bedchambers,  “Gale, we have a gift for you from your Uncle Gale. It’s in the front pocket of my bag, Astarion.” 

The older elf bends down and retrieves a small package addressed to the three year old in the wizard’s tidy script. The little boy grins as he opens the gift from his namesake, revealing a pot full of some sticky, stretchy, slimy substance. Gale tries and fails to open it, so his father bends down to assist, examining the gift with distaste. 

Leave it to the Wizard of Waterdeep to send such a messy, disgusting gift.

Gale pulls the gelatinous thing out of the small jar and giggles at the sensation of the viscous putty. As the little boy smashes the substance through his hands, it changes color in front of his eyes and he oohs in surprise. 

Well, at least this will keep him occupied, Astarion thinks. He needs to get some work done. Pascal, his steward, had been on him about the revisions for that contract and the purchase order for the winery since last week. 

The older man scoops his son up and makes his way toward his office, hoping that with Shadowheart and Lae’zel here to assist with the twins, he will be able to complete the bare minimum of his task list today. Though, admittedly, he cannot wait to see how his little viper of a friend handles the babes; he’s sure there will be a story or two from Tav later on.

*

Astarion is re-reading the contract in front of him for a third time. He’s so tired that it’s difficult to focus. He messily scratches out another line of text and writes an edit above it, speaking to himself under his breath, trying to keep the words coming out in the correct order as he scrawls across the page. 

Is this exhaustion truly how humans feel all the time? It’s absolutely horrid. How do they get anything done? 

Gale emits a shocked cry from the sofa, ripping the older elf’s attention from his work to find the source of his son’s distress.

No. Oh no, no, no.

Gale’s head is completely covered in the sticky slime. The substance is wrapped around his curls, pulling his hair up in chunks. 

The contract is abandoned as Astarion rushes to his son and examines the damage. The little boy is pulling anxiously at the putty as he begins to wail in distress, which is only causing the slime to further spread across his hair.

“Papa, it’s stuck!” He shrieks, his hands flailing and fumbling around, trying to rip the toy from his head. Tears are streaking his face as he continues to fight against the toy.

“Stop, Gale!” The older elf exclaims, barely holding on to the final shreds of his patience as he grabs his son's two tiny hands between one of his own, “Hold on, let me see.” 

Shit. This definitely isn’t good. 

Astarion groans when he realizes he has to tell his wife what happened. Facing her wrath was almost as terrifying as facing the Netherbrain, and his gut sank with dread as he scooped the child up, hair still caked in slime, and walked in the direction of the bedchamber. 

*

“I still cannot believe this, Astarion,” You hiss at your husband under your breath as Shadowheart trims the ends of Gale’s silver curls in your kitchen and Lae’zel entertains him with stories of their travels. Most of the putty came out with generous applications of oil, followed by a bath for the three year old, but the final bits ultimately had to be cut.

You are holding one twin in your arms, Astarion is holding the other. The two of you are an endless bobbing and swaying duo, trying desperately to keep the infants from breaking into another fit. 

“Can we please give it a rest, darling? Blame our wizard friend for sending that ridiculous toy to our three year old!” Astarion responds through a belabored, weary sigh as he gently pats the back of the infant in his arms, “I’ve already apologized; I should have been watching Gale but twins or not, business continues on. We can’t stop working entirely, we do need money, you know. And we need to start interviewing for nannies while Shadowheart and Lae’zel are here.” 

You sigh. You’re both exhausted and doing the best you can. You know this. But this is not how you’d envisioned Gale’s first haircut. Watching the fine silver curls of your eldest fall to the floor, caked with slime, causes you to tear up and you quickly blink the wetness away.

You know it’s mostly the hormones. But it’s also the inexplicable guilt of your first baby no longer being your only baby, despite the happiness you feel about the twins arrival and Gale’s general exuberance at being an older brother. 

“All done!” Shadowheart exclaims as she ruffles the child’s hair, and the little boy grins and turns to look at the both of you with those adorable green eyes, searching for your approval.

“Very handsome, Gale,” Astarion compliments, “I think we might look even more alike now, if that’s even possible.”

Papa is good. He knows the quickest way to soothe any worries is to make sure Gale feels like he and his father are just alike. He absolutely adores his father and constantly mirrors everything about him.

“I agree,” You continue, moving forward to press a kiss onto the crown of the three-year-old’s head, “You look just like daddy now, my little love. What do you say to your Aunties?”

“Thank you Auntie ‘Heart and Auntie Lazy!” Gale exclaims, hopping off the stool he was perched upon and running to pet Apple, where she’s resting under the kitchen table, gnawing on a ball. You, Astarion, and Shadowheart all stifle giggles as Lae’zel’s mouth drops open in offense at being called lazy.

*

Later that night, you two are in bed, basking in another rare moment of silence. You’d read Gale his bedtime story while Astarion sat between the two rocking bassinets and kept the twins in constant sway, lulling them to sleep after they ate. 

“I knew this was going to be hard,” You sigh as you settle yourself in the crook of your husband’s arm, “But gods, Astarion, it really feels impossible.” 

Astarion presses a kiss onto your forehead, “Yes, darling. It does. But what have you always told me about doing impossible things?”

“That we’ve done the impossible things before, and this shouldn’t be any different.” You respond with another sigh as your husband brings his hand up to run his fingers through your hair.

He nods and yawns, “And for some of those impossible things, we required help, little love. Just like now.” 

You understand his meaning. You were struggling with the concept of hiring someone else to help you with the children; it somehow felt a slight to your pride and simultaneously made you nervous to have a complete stranger responsible for your offspring. Who could love and protect them more than you and Astarion? No one. 

But Shadowheart and Lae’zel being here undoubtedly made the day easier. Having them for a few weeks was going to be a blessing, indeed. You could already see it. 

Astarion was right. You two had the means to hire help, and your entire family was suffering without it. You’re about to tell him you know he’s right, but the poor father of three has already drifted into a trance, snoring loudly in his exhaustion.

You chuckle and place a small kiss to his cheek before settling beside him.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel take the first shift, allowing you several straight hours of sleep for the first time in over a month.

It truly does take a village to raise a child. It seems it takes a small army to raise three, at least for now. But your merry band of misfits has never shied away from a challenge. This isn’t any different.

And how lucky you are to have them all in your life, so willing to lend a hand whenever and wherever they are needed. Family is not always blood. Sometimes it is just the dangerous vampire, strange alien and secretive half-elf you meet after a terrible crash, instead.

Fate spins along as it should, though you aren’t always privy to the destination.

And isn’t that exciting? 

[baldursgrave69]

A Pretty Sight - Mature

*this is my first time writing smut, I hope y’all enjoy 🫣*

Rating: NSFW - MATURE, MDNI

Pairing: Halsin x Astarion x fem!durge (named)

Word count: 2.5K

Tags: MDNI, afab!durge, threesome, unprotected sex, piv, blood drinking, vaginal fingering, feelings, oral sex

While writing this I was listening to: Take a Slice by Glass Animals

Find me on Ao3 here

“Halsin you really don’t have to come with. Gale and Astarion are joining me, I’ll be alright,” Agnes said, perched in Halsin’s lap at a table in the Elfsong Tavern. Gale, Astarion, and Agnes were planning their trip to the House of Hope, joined by Halsin who was never far from Agnes’ side. Halsin wrapped his arms around the half elf, leaning his head on her shoulder. “I know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, little thief. But I can’t just sit here while you’re in the Hells, I’d worry too much,” Halsin said as he pulled her closer. “Let him come, we can use him as a shield,” Astarion said from beside Agnes with a smirk. Agnes rolled her eyes, leaning back into Halsin’s embrace. “Ugh, fine,” she grumbled, closing her eyes. “You’re just loved, my heart. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you while I was sitting here,” Halsin trailed off, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “Alright, alright,” Agnes said, turning to look at the druid. She cupped his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to his nose. A smile crossed Halsin’s face as Agnes pressed her forehead to his. He nuzzled his nose to Agnes’ before pressing his lips to hers. Agnes wrapped her arms around the Druid’s neck, leaning into his kiss. “Ahem, as much as I’d love to watch you two go at it, we really should focus on coming up with a plan for tomorrow,” Astarion said with a devilish grin. Gale cleared his throat, shifting in his seat awkwardly. Agnes pulled away from Halsin, pressing a kiss to his forehead before turning back towards the table.

“As we were saying earlier, it’s going to be rather pricey to get Helsik to help us get to the Hells,” Gale said, his finger drumming on his chin. “I don’t relish the idea of emptying our pockets to get to this ‘House of Hope’,” Astarion added. “I’m not worried about it,” Agnes said, lifting her mug of ale to her lips to take a sip. “Oh, did you remember you have a stack of gold somewhere? We can’t exactly afford to just give her everything we have,” Gale snipped at the rogue. Agnes narrowed her gaze at the wizard, setting down her mug. “I don’t plan on paying her anything. I was able to convince her to let me in once before, I don’t see why it would be a problem this time,” Agnes said, a hand stroking Halsin’s hair. Gale scoffed at Agnes, waving a hand at her dismissively. With a quick motion, Agnes threw her dagger at Gale, it landed just above his head, taking a bit of hair with it. “What in the hells!?” Gale yelled, ducking down as not to hit his head on the dagger lodged in the wall. “I find that I can be very persuasive. Perhaps you should trust me on this one,” Agnes said nonchalantly, hugging Halsin tightly. “Gods, you’re amazing,” Astarion said in a low tone, Halsin humming in agreement. “Oh for the love of… I’m heading to bed,” Gale grumbled, beginning to scoot out of the booth. “My knife, if you would,” Agnes said, holding out her hand towards Gale. “Get it yourself,” he snapped, standing quickly and heading up to their rented rooms.

“He’s so sensitive,” Astarion laughed, reaching over and pulling Agnes’ dagger out of the wall. She held out her hand for Astarion to give it to her, but he grabbed it with his free hand and peppered soft kisses to her wrist. “Are you hungry, my love?” Agnes asked, as Astarion looked up at her, his fangs grazing her veins. “Mm, I wouldn’t say no to a taste,” he hummed, releasing her hand and giving her the dagger. “How could you, she’s positively decadent,” Halsin said, his face nuzzled in the crook of Agnes’ neck, kissing along her tattoo. Agnes felt a shiver down her spine as she felt Astarion’s fingers ghost across her thighs. “Just what are the two of you up to?” She asked, looking over to see Astarion laying a heavy gaze on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He allowed his hand to trail along her inner thigh, his eyes blown wide with lust. “Perhaps we should head upstairs, hmm?” Astarion purred, squeezing Agnes’ leg before removing his hand. “What do you say, little thief? Would you like to have some fun?” Halsin whispered, Agnes could feel the growing erection in his trousers pressing against her leg. “I think that sounds like a lovely idea,” Agnes said, her voice coming out more breathy than intended. Halsin needed no further encouragement, he swiftly picked the half elf up, putting her over his shoulder. “Halsin!” Agnes squeaked, dizzy from the ale she had been drinking. “Save your voice darling, you’ll be screaming our names soon enough,” Astarion purred, patting Agnes’ backside as Halsin carried her up the stairs to a private room.

Halsin entered the room followed by Astarion, who swiftly closed and locked the door. The druid gently placed Agnes on the bed at the back of the room, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling away. Agnes propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Astarion approached the foot of the bed. “What a pretty sight,” Astarion said, crossing his arms. “Isn’t she?” Halsin agreed, licking his lips, one hand trailing down to cup his erection. “I could say the same,” Agnes said with a smirk, feeling her arousal grow as she eyed the two elves in front of her. Seeing Halsin’s sheer size next to Astarion made her clench her thighs together, growing even more wet. Astarion made his way to the bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling his tunic over his head. Agnes’ eyes trailed along the vampire’s body, her mouth hanging slightly open as she took in every inch of his beautifully smooth, pale skin. Agnes could see Halsin have a similar reaction as he eyed the other elf, the vampire looked ethereal in the candlelight. Astarion climbed up onto the bed, using a hand to spread Agnes’ legs apart and pulling himself up along her body. “I cannot wait to taste you, my love,” he whispered, his head dipping to her neck. Astarion pressed kisses to her bite scars, a hand pressing her harder onto the bed. Agnes moaned as Astarion sucked at the skin around her scars, his tongue occasionally lapping at her neck. “Astarion,” Agnes moaned breathlessly as he slipped a hand under her shirt, cupping her breast. He groaned, realizing she wasn’t wearing a bra. Astarion pulled her shirt up over her head, thumbing at her nipple causing her to whine. “What is it, little love?” Astarion said grazing his fangs across her neck and pressing his erection against her clothed clit sending a wave of pleasure through her body. “Please, just…” Agnes couldn’t get her words out, her head clouded with lust and the faintest hint of drunkenness. “What do you think, Halsin?” Astarion said, pulling away from Agnes to look at the druid. He was watching the two on the bed, palming his cock through his pants. “I think she needs to tell you what she wants,” Halsin said, walking around the side of the bed for a better view. Agnes rolled her eyes, grabbing a fistful of Astarion’s curls and pulling him into a kiss. Astarion groaned as he felt her leg come up to press against the erection straining against his pants.

Astarion pulled back, a smirk crossing his face. “So impatient,” he tutted, pushing himself back off of the bed. Agnes narrowed her gaze at him, letting her head fall back in frustration. “What do you want, my heart? Tell us,” Halsin said, cupping Agnes’ jaw and turning her to face him. Her eyes widened as she noticed Halsin had removed his trousers, his other hand wrapped around his impressive length. “Gods, Halsin,” Agnes groaned, his thumb trailing along her bottom lip. She pulled his large thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and sucking. Halsin and Astarion both let out a groan as they watched her, Astarion now quickly removing his own pants. Agnes pulled her mouth off of Halsin’s finger with a pop, spit running down her chin. Halsin wiped it off for her before pulling her into a kiss. Agnes was so lost in the druid she almost didn’t notice the tug on her bottoms. “Up,” Astarion ordered, patting her leg. Agnes lifted her hips as Halsin’s tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Their tongues danced as Astarion pulled down Agnes’ trousers and small clothes, gently lifting her legs as he removed the clothing. Astarion’s cold fingers ghosted up her legs onto her thighs, kneading into the soft flesh. “I can see how wet you are already, pet,” Astarion purred, pushing her knees to spread her legs for him. Agnes pulled away from Halsin to look at Astarion lying between her legs, his hands trailing her thighs. He shot her a devilish grin before dipping his head to press soft kisses between her thighs. Agnes threw her head back onto the pillow behind her, wiggling under Astarion as he gently trailed his lips closer to her core. “Look at me, my heart,” Halsin purred, pulling her face towards him. She looked over to him, a whine escaping her lips as Astarion licked a stripe up her thigh. Agnes watched Halsin pump his cock as, a groan escaping his lips. “Use your words, love. What do you need,” Halsin said breathily, looking down at Agnes. “I need to taste you,” Agnes whimpered, bringing her hand up to Halsin’s length and swiping her thumb across the tip. Halsin groaned as he kneeled on the bed, bringing his cock closer to Agnes.

“Yes, my love, I want to see you take all of him,” Astarion said as he trailed his fangs along Agnes’ thigh. Just as Agnes was pulling Halsin’s cock into her mouth, Astarion plunged his fangs into her thigh, a loud sigh escaping him as he felt her blood flood into his mouth. Agnes moaned around Halsin’s length, her tongue swirling around his head. Halsin threw his head back, a hand coming up to grab her braid. Astarion dragged his fingers through Agnes’ folds as he continued to feed, groaning at how wet she was. He pulled his mouth away from Agnes’ thigh, the rush he got from her blood leaving him a bit light headed. He lapped at the new wound, licking up beads of blood as they dripped out. Halsin used Agnes’ braid to bob her head up and down his cock as Astarion teased her entrance with his icy fingers. She moaned loudly as Astarion pushed two fingers inside her, curling them upward. “Gods you sound so beautiful,” Astarion groaned, kissing the inside of her thigh as he pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt. Halsin pulled back on her braid, her mouth coming off of his cock with a pop. “Does that feel good, little thief?” He asked, leaning down to kiss her. “Yes,” she breathed as Halsin captured her lips with his. Astarion leaned forward, dragging his tongue along her clit as he fucked her with his fingers. He began drawing lazy circles with his tongue, slowly pulling his fingers out of her.

Agnes moaned into Halsin’s mouth, her back arching up off of the bed as she ground her cunt against Astarion’s face. Halsin pulled back from her to watch Astarion lavish her pussy, his hand pumping his cock once more. “Astarion you look positively divine devouring her like that,” he breathed, spitting in his hand to lubricate his length. “Oh, Astarion,” Agnes whined, her hands tangling in his hair. She could feel her climax building as Astarion lapped at her with reckless abandon. Agnes pulled on his hair, bringing his face up to hers. His eyes were wild, blown wide with lust as he breathed heavily. “I need you inside me. I want to come on your cock,” she growled, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer. Astarion was too far gone to make her wait any longer, dragging his cock along her folds to wet his length. He nudged his head at her entrance, groaning at the feeling of her. As he pushed himself inside, he grabbed Halsin by the hair and pulled him in to a kiss as he began pumping his cock into Agnes. “Oh, gods below,” Agnes moaned, the feeling of Astarion pumping inside her and the image of the two elves devouring one another in front of her nearly pushing her over the edge already. Agnes wrapped her fingers around Halsin’s length, stroking him to match Astarion’s pace.

Astarion pulled back from Halsin, bringing Agnes’ leg up to rest on his shoulder so he could get a better angle. He leaned forward, a hand gripping the headboard behind Agnes as he resumed a bruising pace. “Fuck you’re so… gods,” Astarion was close, Agnes could tell by the sheer nonsense spilling out of his mouth. “Come for me, Astarion,” Agnes whined, continuing to stroke Halsin’s cock with one hand, the other gripping Astarion’s curls. Agnes could feel her own climax building, the new angle punching the air from her lungs. “By the Oak Father, the two of you look so… ah,” Halsin groaned, rutting into Agnes’ hand as he watched Astarion fuck her, gripping the headboard with one hand. Agnes pulled Astarion closer by his curls. “Come for me, please,” she begged against his lips, feeling his pace grow more erratic. Astarion pressed his forehead to hers as he came with a grunt, spilling inside her. Feeling him come brought Agnes over the edge, a wave of pleasure overcoming her body. Halsin wasn’t far behind the other two, spilling into his own hand at the sight of his lovers tangled in one another.

Astarion curled up next to Agnes, his forehead pressed to hers. Halsin joined the two on the bed, embracing Agnes from behind and pressing kisses to the back of her neck. “I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow,” Agnes chuckled, nuzzling Astarion’s nose with hers. “Gale will be pissed,” Astarion added, stroking Agnes’ cheek. “Oh he’ll be fine,” she said, lacing her fingers with Halsin’s. “Would you like to take a bath, my heart?” Halsin asked against her neck, continuing to lay kisses to her soft skin. “Mm that sounds nice,” she hummed. Halsin squeezed her hand before getting up from the bed. “I’ll run it for you,” the druid said with a smile, heading towards the bathroom. Astarion pulled Agnes into his arms, burying his head in her neck. “Are you alright, Star?” Agnes asked, holding Astarion tight. “So good,” he murmured, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck. She smiled, draping a leg over his waist. Astarion pulled back to look at Agnes, his expression soft. “I love you,” he said with a smile. Agnes pulled him close to her chest, hugging him as tightly as possible. “I love you, too” she whispered.

[tinosawruswrites]

Jealousy

Week 1: Jealousy (One-shot)

BG3 Baddies/Lilith Hell Discord server Fanfic prompt

Word count: ~5000 words

Synopsis: Astarion ponders over his irritation upon seeing Alina (Tav) sharing friendly intimacy with Gale (and Shadowheart) and attempting to deny that it stems from jealousy.

Tags/Warnings: Named Fem! Tav (Alina), OC Tav with backstory and defined personality, rogue half-elf Tav, spawn Astarion, side character Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Scratch, jealous Astarion, mild spoilers for the end of Act1, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse and torture, mentions of scars from abuse/torture (back and forearms), allusions to Astarion’s past abuse, smut, penis in vagina sex, pretentious ponderings of things and feelings, endless musings and vague dialogue attempting to create subtext.

Additional notes: Huge thanks to Zaria's The Rabid House Server and those who helped by betareading and giving me grammar lessons! You know who you are! <3

It was a calm evening for once. The group was on their way towards Moonrise, taking a long rest after spending the whole day traveling over the mountain pass. Everyone was at ease, mostly, or pretending to after the dud that was the gith Créche.

Lae’zel in particular. The warrior was uncharacteristically absent, her head full of things to solve after finding out about Vlaakith’s deceit. She sat sternly at the far sidelines of the camp, deep in silent meditation, uninterested and unbothered by the others relaxing by the fire.

Astarion felt he didn’t have much in common with Lae’zel, but found himself in a similar sort of – albeit entirely different and entirely self inflicted – kind of inner turmoil.

He watched as Alina laughed with Gale near the campfire. The two sat side by side, practically glued to one another. The sight made Astarion’s mouth go uncomfortably dry and he took a slow sip from his wine goblet, holding back the grimace that formed from the sour taste of vinegar hitting his tongue.

His eyes followed the way the wizard’s hand fell on the half-elf rogue’s shoulder all too casually for his liking.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too intimate.

But why?

He had been intimate with her, way more so than the wizard could ever hope to be.

He’d successfully seduced her and bedded her in the forest some weeks ago. After that night, he’d approached her again during the tiefling party and she had agreed to share his bedroll on more than one occasion ever since.

Hells, she sometimes approached him – the shy, timid Alina approached him, for a heated midnight tryst!

That, if anything, meant something and yet… it might have meant nothing at all.

He lowered the goblet from his lips, glaring daggers at Gale’s back from the shadows he sat under. He wished his stare would somehow sting the wizard enough to force him to keel back and remove his grubby fingers off of Alina, but nothing such happened. The wizard kept touching Alina, and the painful stings kept assaulting his own heart instead.

The way Gale could be at such ease near her, so openly enthusiastic about his boring, fringe interests and hobbies while being so godsdamned sincere about himself annoyed him to no end.

How could someone be so reckless?

How did he manage to survive this long without putting up a front and maximizing the others interest by careful analysis and then providing what the other sought according to said analysis? To him, Gale’s haphazard approach to social interactions was severely lacking and somehow the wizard was still winning and by the looks of it, bloody enjoying himself.

Astarion fixated on the hand that slid to gently pat Alina on the upper back. A spot he knew she was sensitive about anyone seeing in particular, with the ragged scars accumulated under her merciless debt owner littering the full length of it and all.

A spot, he had never directly touched as of yet himself either, and whenever he did so indirectly, made him uncomfortable, prompting him to remove his hand lest he push on her limits too hard to drive her away…

After all, she was self-conscious enough to hide them at all times, even when they had their little midnight meetings.

And there was Gale. Resting his stupid magic hand over Alina’s back so stupidly casually, not a care in the world.

The stinging in his heart began to burn like it had actually managed to carve a tiny hole through his undead flesh. He closed his eyes, lifted the wine goblet back onto his lips and took another bitter sip of the vile liquid in order to wash away some of the pain.

Gale had never laid with Alina, but was somehow closer to her, while he had, and his presence was reduced to sitting in the shadows at the edge of camp.

Not because nobody wanted him near the campfire, no. He was allowed to, maybe even welcome, but something kept him at bay.

Deep down, he knew why this was, but acknowledging such a thing would mean admitting defeat, and he was very keen on not doing so.

It was a frivolous little thing, an irritatingly ardent feeling that had made its existence known to him right after he had slept with Alina the first time. It was supposed to be a simple performance, a perfect illusion that would secure Alina’s heart under his ministrations, but each following night they shared, it became increasingly more difficult to keep the mask of indifference on his face.

He might have been intimate with Alina, but had never shared true intimacy with her.

That was the plan and it was working, so why did he still feel like he was losing? And to a socially awkward wizard no less??

“Either the wine in your cup is sour enough to crease your face, or it’s the other way around.” Shadowheart mused from the side rolling her own wine goblet in hand.

Astarion forced his face into seduction mode, easing any and all tension from his face like a magic trick.

“What ever do you mean?” He asked lifting his brows at the cleric.

Shadowheart raised her own brows up in tandem, giving him one of those sly knowing looks of hers.

“Oh, I just ought to point it out, since my wine was starting to taste oddly sour in your presence. Jealousy is a bad look on you, to be honest.”

“Jealous?? Me?” Astarion retorted with a dry laugh and his eyes fell back onto Gale and Alina.

He was about to take another sip of his wine, but froze as he witnessed Alina leaning against Gale and giving him a partial hug. Shadowheart watched as Astarion’s grip tightened around his wine goblet, threatening to break it if it was anything else but metal.

“Mmh-hmm.” She hummed swaying closer.

“For an over two centuries old immortal being you’re surprisingly clueless about things. Or just playing dumb. Which is it, actually?”

“Things? What things, girl? Be more specific,” he spat back at her.

He got another knowing look from the half-elven cleric.

“I wonder...” Shadowheart mused, now standing right next to him.

She extended an arm towards the way he was facing, pretending to scan what Astarion was looking at, as if she didn’t have the insight to what he was so miffed about.

“Oh! I see it now.” She exclaimed and settled to focus on Alina, who had her head rested against Gale’s shoulder in the distance.

“That’s what’s got you so worked up.” She looked Astarion in the eyes, the gleam in her green irises shining arrogantly bright over her clever assessment.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. What I have with her is more than boring, innocent cuddling.”

“Oh trust me, I and the rest of the camp are well aware.” Shadowheart stepped back with an unimpressed half-smile on her lips.

Astarion smirked.

Alina was the quiet type and didn’t make much noise, unless a situation really called for it. Even her speaking voice was soft and tender, and she preferred to stifle herself even when she was in terrible pain. In contrast to this, she was surprisingly loud when she was feeling good – and Astarion knew how to make her feel way better than just good.

The morning after the tiefling party had been an extremely embarrassing event for her, when the others subtly brought it up to her during breakfast. After that, he’d made it a thing to let her howl out his name in the middle of the night every once in awhile, just as a reminder who she was tumbling with.

Astarion grinned a smug toothy grin, once again frowning at Gale’s turned back.

“Tell me then, dear Shadowheart, what is it that I’m so jealous about, if I’m so intimate with her already?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Shadowheart stared at him without blinking and took a long, slow drink of her wine. She tasted the wine before swallowing it and peered inside her now empty cup.

“Oh, would you look at that. All out of wine. I would ask for a refill from your bottle, but I know you’d just say no. Then again, I don’t think I’d actually want any. ‘Sour grapes’ and all.” She flashed him a brilliant smile before swaying away and joining the others near the campfire.

Astarion scoffed at the cleric, finished his own wine and remained scowling in the shadows in his own bitterness.

---

As the evening progressed, Astarion witnessed Shadowheart shooting glances back at him while pretending to be drunker than she was and leaning towards Alina, cuddling her excessively. The half-elf rogue would become flustered, but accept her companion’s innocent appearing clinginess nonetheless.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the cleric’s antics, ignoring the blatant spite thrown his way, well aware of the game she was playing.

Two could play that game, but something prevented him from stepping in and participating. He knew it would be a simple win for him – To saunter over, say “hello darling,” sit next to Alina, pull her against his body and nobody would even dare to approach her the rest of the night, no doubts about it.

But it would be a sour win on his part, because it wouldn’t be just a silly game to him at that point.

Shadowheart leaned to hug Alina, resting her head over the rogue’s shoulder to make direct eye contact with Astarion. He watched as the cleric played with Alina’s hair and how she returned the sentiment with a couple friendly strokes of her own.

Astarion just smiled at Shadowheart, feigning calmness in front of her adversarial behavior.

Much to his delight, Scratch the dog suddenly appeared and bombarded Shadowheart with a slobbery storm of affectionate licks as revenge for not paying enough attention to him.

The cleric pulled away from Alina, both hands sheltering her face from the onslaught of jealous canine love. Astarion chuckled with his book in hand, watching Shadowheart trying to fend off the furry fiend, resorting to running away altogether.

Alina laughed at Shadowheart’s mock panic and Astarion felt all the more better for it.

---

After nightfall, Astarion waited. He laid still in the silent dimness of his tent, waiting for Alina to come to him, if she ever would. He stared up at the purple fabric ceiling of his enclosed resting quarters. A lonesome wax candle provided a comfortable amount of light to ease the cold darkness of the night.

It had been a couple days since their latest meeting and he was hoping she would come by for another night of passion, especially after what transpired earlier that evening. He had a lot of things on his mind he’d want a distraction from.

He thought about how it felt when he saw Gale being so close to Alina, looking so intimate without ever having to take his clothes off or throwing himself at her.

He thought about the conversation with Shadowheart and the hesitancy he felt despite clearly being in the right.

He was right.

Because if he wasn’t, then he’d lost not only to her, but to himself as well.

The shuffle of fabric and a familiar form sliding inside his tent snapped him out of his head. A relieved smile grew upon his lips when he laid his eyes on Alina. The half-elf rogue smiled back at him, her cheeks already red.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Good evening, darling.”

“Do you mind some company for tonight?”

“You know I never mind if it’s you, darling.”

“You are allowed to say no if you aren’t feeling it, you know,” she countered sweetly, taking a seat next to his feet.

He said nothing to her offer, instead choosing to admire her form to further drive in her welcome status in his presence.

Alina turned to admire the solemn lonely candle glowing on the small nightstand at the corner, allowing Astarion a moment to take her in. She was donning her regular loose camp clothes: A white, long sleeved collar shirt, basic brown trousers and simple leather shoes.

An unassuming combination, that was worn more for comfort than style, hiding away most of her surprisingly curvy body.

Astarion lifted himself up to his elbows and hooked up one of his knees, giving Alina a seductive look.

“So, looking for a cuddle?” He blurted without thinking.

Alina turned her head to him, eyes wide in mild surprise.

Astarion reeled for a couple fateful seconds and attempted to remedy his momentary breach of character. He cleared his throat and fixed his smile.

“Cuddling sounds nice.” Alina tilted her head with a smile.

“Oh, but surely, you’re looking for more than just a simple cuddle, aren’t you, you sweet little thing!” He purred and watched as Alina’s cheeks grew in color.

She giggled.

“I was wondering if you’re hungry, actually.”

It was a silly question. He was always hungry. Such was the nature of being a vampire. It was still kind of her to ask such a thing, because it wasn’t a question as much it was an offer.

Astarion kept smiling and nodded. He pushed himself up to sit. Alina nodded and crawled closer. She laid herself next to him on the bedroll and scooted flush against him. He took position over her, like so many nights before.

Alina’s golden eyes blinked up at him calmly. Her gaze was relaxed and her body at ease under him despite what was to come. It was in stark contrast to their first feeding session, back when they barely knew each other and all he cared about was rebelling against his master.

Alina had been afraid. She had been tense and could barely mask the shivering of her body when he took his first drink of her delicious life blood. Since then, she’d grown accustomed to it all, the slight pain, numbness and subsequent wooziness afterwards.

Astarion had gotten better at the biting thing himself, finding a comfortable position, able to break skin without too much pain and drinking just enough to sate himself and little enough to not make Alina too ill.

He took one of her hands into his, kissed the back of it and laced their fingers together before leaning in. He rested their joined hands against the side of her head and heard a small hum escape Alina’s throat.

He could have just drunk from her wrist, but both of her forearms were littered with the same destructive marks from her debt owner as her back was. Another spot he had rarely seen and touched directly, fully covered up by her long sleeves even now.

Sensitive. Painful. Intimate.

Alina turned her head for him and exposed the column of her neck, revealing a faint set of bite marks from earlier feedings. Astarion trailed his nose along her freckled skin, hovering over her pulse point, inhaling the intoxicating scent of fresh apples and vanilla that lingered on her body and clothes.

Among her scent were hints of paper and ink, Gale’s cologne, wine and Shadowheart’s perfume.

He felt the stinging in his heart return and felt an urge to retaliate.

He could just bite harder than usual and make Alina feel a smidgen of the burning, stinging pain he was feeling inside his cold hard chest.

That, if anything, would serve her right for making him feel this way.

The sharp ends of Astarion’s fangs pressed against Alina’s subtle flesh, his breath ice cold and heavy on her skin. He opened his maw wider, ready to let the beast take over and punish her, but pulled back moments before it could.

What good would come of him inflicting more pain on her than necessary?

He was in pain and wanted her to know it. But had Alina not suffered just as much as he had already – as proven by the scars she carried on both of her forearms and back?

And unlike him, still showed him kindness, gave him comfort, forgave his shortcomings?

Astarion paused.

Those were all characteristics that pulled him towards her in the first place, what made her so malleable and quite frankly, easy to manipulate. It was also why she was so well liked by the whole camp, him included.

She was…sweet. Truly, and honestly sweet.

He couldn’t hurt her like that, shouldn’t hurt her like that.

He blinked a couple times and ran the fingers of his free hand across the side of her neck as if wiping away loose strands of her hair. The hand that clutched against his gripped harder for a moment. A signal of her continued comfort. Alina’s eyes remained closed, blissfully unaware.

She trusted him so blindly, but he could barely even grin in her presence without feeling like a fraud.

Astarion’s heart ached.

Alina was so close, and yet so far.

And no matter how many times he shed his and her clothes off, he knew that that kind of closeness would only ever be skin deep.

He swallowed and pressed a long kiss against the bite scars on Alina’s throat – like a wordless apology, seeking forgiveness for a sin he had committed against her.

He kissed her neck again and again, each time sinking lower beneath her collar, trying to make amends the only way he felt he could.

Eventually, Alina turned her head to peek at him. She raised herself slightly and brushed a hand through the side of Astarion’s face, a curious look in her eyes.

He smiled at her, hoping to come off as genuine enough.

“I find myself extremely peckish for more than just your neck tonight, darling.”

“You do?” She grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling from joy.

“Hmmm.” Alina kept smiling and tilted her head, inspecting Astarion’s face.

“We can get better acquainted once you’ve had your fill.”

“You know I never have my fill, not when it’s you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you romantic you.” Alina grinned and rested her head back down, her neck fully exposed once more.

Astarion chuckled and decided not to dally any longer. He leaned back in, sinking his fangs into her neck confidently. Alina tensed momentarily, but relaxed after a while, rubbing her thumb soothingly against the hand she was still holding firmly.

Astarion sighed against Alina’s skin, tasting the heavenly nectar in his mouth, swallowing it with big earnest gulps. This was what he wished his wine goblet was filled with whenever he drank and not that rank, vile bile they carried along backpack loads of.

He reveled in her taste and the pleasant hotness that brought his body back closer to life with each swallow.

Alina’s pulse grew more erratic and he knew it was time to stop. He pulled away, licking long languid lines over the two new punctures on her skin. Alina giggled and Astarion began to kiss down towards her open collar again.

His body was practically singing to him – his usually cold limbs felt warm and lively, his skin more sensitive. All his other senses were more keen and sharp as well, his eyes able to spot the tiniest of motions, his nose the smallest of differences in scent, his ears hearing every stifled little sound.

Astarion sucked on the skin at the edges of Alina’s shirt, then bit on the fabric, playfully yanking on it with his fangs. Alina’s pulse remained high and her breathing heavy. She brushed a hand through the back of Astarion’s head, playing with the loose curls at the nape of his neck.

She unlaced their hands and reached to unbutton her shirt for him.

Astarion followed along with each opened button, kissing down the line of skin that revealed beneath the parting shirt. Alina let out pleased little gasps as he went, her hand falling behind his head again, petting through his hair soothingly.

His own breathing had grown heavier and his body was slowly reacting to Alina’s growing arousal. Yet, a part of his mind was still occupied by the way Gale and Shadowheart clung themselves to Alina, seemingly more intimate with her.

He might have held her body, but her heart was out of his reach.

His mouth fixated over Alina’s sternum, just above where her beating heart laid. His fangs dragged over her skin, the maw within him hungry to dig itself deeper and sink its fangs into the ever beating muscle.

He became aware of himself again after Alina let out a pained whimper and he saw the small bleeding scratches that his fangs had left on her chest.

He met Alina’s gaze, silent panic rising inside of him. He tried to smile it off, but felt the edges of his lips drag downwards instead.

“...Astarion?” Alina asked with worry.

Astarion panted.

He felt out of breath despite not needing to breathe at all.

“Were you still hungry…?”

“Yes, that’s it. I was just…”

He was in pain again. A deep, stinging burning inside his chest, coiling around his heart like thorny vines that were on fire. He swallowed dryly, almost missing the sour wine he had downed earlier.

He snapped back to it again when two warm hands cupped each side of his face, turning his head. He came face to face with Alina. She looked patient as a saint, kind like an angel.

“You can have more if you want,” she said softly.

“I…”

He stared into her eyes without blinking, studying the calmness of them. Her pupils were blown wide as she studied him back, her whole demeanor giving off a sense of tender affection.

With that he let Alina guide him back towards her throat. He inhaled the coppery remnants of the previous wounds and nuzzled against them.

His stomach felt comfortably warm, his vampiric hunger sated for tonight. Drinking more of her blood would help to keep it that way longer, but would do little to ease the tightness in his chest.

But admitting to something else would mean losing the game.

Astarion hesitated and kissed the wounds, then bit back through the fresh fang marks, slightly missing and punctured another set crookedly beside them. Alina let out a stifled whine. Astarion pushed Alina down against the ground, once more drinking from her like a desert during a rainstorm, unquenchable, insatiable.

He pulled away when Alina’s pulse began to dip, knowing he passed the line of comfort for her. A red tainted string of spit connected his lips to her neck. Two sets of fang marks now decorated the side of her neck, blooming red from irritation and spilled blood.

Alina panted slow and heavy, her eyes clearly more unfocused.

“… Any better?” She asked weakly.

He nodded.

His stomach felt fuller, but his chest tighter than before.

“How are you feeling…?” He asked barely above a whisper and Alina blinked up at him.

She looked paler, but her cheeks were still somewhat flushed.

“I’m fine, just a little woozy.” She smiled.

He nodded and managed a tiny smile himself.

“Fine enough to ‘get better acquainted’?” He teased.

Alina flashed him a grin and nodded.

He hadn’t lost the game.

---

Discarding both of their clothes came easy to him. Astarion did so swiftly and without any trouble, an art he had over two centuries of time to perfect.

Astarion left Alina’s shirt on as he always did, to ease her mind off of the scars on her back and forearms, even if he wouldn’t mind seeing them.

Since when did he feel this way?

He’d seen them back at the grove with everyone else. Deep, ugly gashes running every which way up and down her back. Hideous to look at. Her forearms were no better, and if it weren’t for Gale, he and everyone else would have been spared from knowing what grotesque scarring from consistent and regular torture looked like.

At the time, he felt lucky his own were just a morbid poem his master carved onto his flesh over the course of a night. A long, agonizingly painful night, but just a single night nonetheless. Still, he couldn’t bare thinking of actually seeing the scar himself and was partially glad, he probably never would have to.

Alina panted beneath him. His hips moved against hers in languid motions, controlled and automatic. Astarion had both of his hands clasped with hers on each side of her head, their fingers tightly intertwined. She was looking directly at him, her golden eyes filled with desperate want.

Her body felt hot and sweaty against him. Her core was slick and swollen from arousal, making it easy for him to keep up his pace. Alina whimpered and moaned quietly beneath him, either conscious of her own voice and purposefully keeping it down, or too tired to let the world know how good she was feeling.

Even without her usual vocalizations, Astarion knew how good she was feeling. The subtle trembles of her body, the way her back arched when he aimed his hips a certain way… It wouldn’t be difficult to force her voice out, but tonight, it didn’t feel appropriate.

Instead, he drank in the quiet noises of pleasure that slipped past her lips, satisfied by the private secrecy it gave to their little rendezvous. He smiled and increased his pace to edge her further. Alina’s jaw gaped and she let out a pitiful gasp. Her hands grasped his even tighter, her nails digging into his skin.

He smiled, enjoying the view of their group’s resourceful, witty leader rendered into soft, quivering putty in his hands.

Alina squirmed under him, a telltale sign of her approaching release.

Astarion’s flesh yearned its own release, his abdomen tightening in preparation as he watched Alina’s pleasure contorted face. It was like clockwork these days. Watching Alina as she came apart in his hands did things to him, things he never thought he could feel with another person.

Every movement came automatic to him, practiced to perfection like a rigorous dance. No room for self-expression, lest it break the fantastic illusion he was projecting. He felt himself slip away, but was immediately yanked back into the moment by hungry kisses.

Alina licked her way into his mouth, skillfully pulling all his attention back to her. She was growing so close, the way her wet folds clasped his strained length confirmed it.

He let his focus slip away in the moment, knowing once Alina reached her peak, he’d get his – a treat he got to experience almost without fail with her.

Alina’s hands slipped away from his lazy grasp and winded over and around his neck and shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together. Her soft, ample chest squished against his toned chest and her plush thighs pressed harder against his sides. One of her hands settled behind his back, while the other tangled lovingly into his hair.

His own confused hands felt around the bedroll before instinctively wrapping under Alina’s back, holding her tight.

She broke the kiss that had continued all this time and panted right next to his ear, her voice whiny and desperate.

“Astarion…!” Alina whimpered and Astarion felt a jolt run through his spine.

He rocked his hips harder and Alina’s legs fell wider apart. Her voice threatened to grow in volume and pitch, but Astarion got overwhelmed by an increasing need to keep all of this moment to himself. He sealed her mouth with his own, capturing each and every moan between his lips.

He tasted every corner of her mouth, already knowing each and every inch of it, still not bored to explore through it all over again. Alina kissed him back fervently. Her tongue pushed boldly past his back into his mouth, unafraid of the sharp fangs that might scrape and make her bleed.

Astarion moaned when he felt one of Alina’s hands stroking through his curls and lightly yanking at the strands every now and then. The hand over his back was digging its nails into his skin, a slightly painful, but welcome feeling he’d grown to enjoy.

Finally, Alina’s breathing grew erratic and her movements shaky. Astarion smiled against her lips and brought her over the edge, soon following suit. Alina’s pleasure bloomed around him, heated wetness convulsing around him as he spilled inside of her. His hips shook against her, their rhythm broken and uneven. He hummed against Alina’s lips, the blissful heat of his own orgasm washing over him.

Both of them stilled, the silence around them filled only by their heavy breathing and the occasional wet sound of their conjoined bodies still moving against one another.

Astarion moved to separate their bodies, but Alina wrapped her legs around his lower back, trapping him in place. She cupped his face with both hands and kissed him slowly. Astarion blinked in surprise and eased into Alina’s wordless demands, allowing her to shower him with more physical affection.

Usually he parted their bodies quickly after everything was done, like finishing a smooth, clean business transaction with no further clauses to fill. It was how he used to go about things. A neat modus operandi to keep things simple and to prevent himself from getting too involved.

Alina was an exception – “a regular”, as he sometimes thought to himself. He found himself slipping further from his own rules each night he spent in Alina’s embrace, lured in by her sweet nature and the gentle allure of her touch.

She caressed his cheek with a thumb.

“That felt good.” Alina said softly.

“I am well aware. You were about to wake up the whole camp again…”

Alina’s happiness died and turned to embarrassment. Her blush reached all the way up to her pointy ears.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Oh, yes you were, sweetheart.”

“I held back.” She claimed.

“Correction. I held you back.”

“Maybe.” Alina peeked to her side, feigning ignorance.

Astarion chuckled.

“I am in control of you darling.”

“Are you?” Alina tightened her legs around his lower back and rolled them over.

Astarion let out a little whimper, staring up at Alina in shock. She sat upon his hips with her back straight, hands drawing lazy patterns on his abdomen.

“You’re more than welcome to prove me otherwise.”Alina smiled and leaned down over to him.

Astarion smiled and remained where he was, allowing Alina to pull him into another slow kiss. He relaxed against her, thinking through her statement and forgot about it altogether, melting into her kiss.

All thoughts about Gale and Shadowheart were gone, pushed off the cliff of his mind into the pit of obscurity.

Alina was here, in his arms. He had her all to himself, and she had him all to herself.

He had lost the game to himself.

[missfortunetherogue]

The Embrace of Love and Death

Welcome to the first chapter of my fanfic, “The Embrace of Love and Death”! When rogues Astarion and Miss Fortune (OC) get abducted from Baldur’s Gate and infected with mind flayer tadpoles, they both become “conveniently lost” from their troubled homes. As they grapple with their past traumas they find companionship, healing, and eventually love and renewed purpose in each other. Will getting a mind flayer parasite inserted into their eyes wind up being the best thing that ever happened to them? This slow burn tale of romance, sex, and healing will reveal the answer to that in due time.

Prefer to read on AO3? Gotchu covered right here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298#main

Chapter 1: Fresh off the Nautiloid

The sun was beginning to set on a day so bad that calling it a nightmare would be about as euphemistic as calling a raging owlbear a hungry house cat. One moment Miss Fortune had been trailing their mark through an alley in the slums of Baldur’s Gate, and the next they were abducted into a nautiloid, strapped in a mind flayer pod with a tadpole burrowing into their brain. They’d met that green woman, rescued a cleric named Shadowheart from her mind flayer pod, fought screeching imps, and then crashed the whole damned ship into who-knows-where. They had no idea how they survived the ordeal, but the screaming pain in their head didn’t give them much hope that their luck would last.

They’d never even been outside of Baldur’s Gate before, and now they were lost in the wilderness with two strangers. They’d lost sight of the green woman after the crash, found Shadowheart outside, and met a handsome, effeminate high elf with blindingly pale skin who’d tried to slit their throat on sight. The elf’s name was Astarion, and while they’d talked him down from violence and convinced him their odds of survival were better together, the half-elf rogue resolved to keep an eye on him. Not that they could fully blame him for the attempted murder; had the roles been reversed, they probably would have done the same. But still, they much preferred their blood inside their body.

Miss Fortune couldn’t for the life of them understand why their new companions were already looking to them like some kind of leader. While they were used to people gravitating to them in more mundane settings due to their good looks and charismatic persona, those skills hardly felt useful out here. What the hells did they know about anything real? They’d have to fake it, they realized.

“Sun’s going down, and this spot looks as safe as any to set up camp,” they said with feigned confidence. The companions nodded, set down their packs. Still they looked at Miss Fortune, waiting for instructions. “Err…do either of you know how to start a fire?”

“Gods, this is hopeless!” cried Shadowheart. “Have you never camped before?! No matter, I’ve done it plenty. Watch and learn, gentlemen, because I won’t be doing this by myself every night. I’m not your camp mother.”

Shadowheart walked the others through the process of setting up camp, showed them how to catch fish from the river and impale them on sticks to cook over the fire she started. Miss Fortune stumbled over their actions, and Astarion was even more helpless - but they managed, and they had places to sleep and food to eat by the time the sun winked out of the sky.

“So, Miss Fortune is an interesting name,” Shadowheart said cautiously between bites of fish and the other rations in their packs. “Did you come up with that on your own?”

“I did,” they replied. “I don’t like to take myself too seriously.”

Astarion snorted. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

“Why ‘Miss Fortune’ if you’re…well, you know,” Shadowheart pressed, gesturing to their masculine body.

The half-elf was about 185 centimeters tall and lanky to the point of looking underfed, but their lean frame had the buds of muscles beginning to form from the last couple moons they’d spent running with the city’s thieves guild. Their tan skin was sprinkled with freckles over the slight bent of their nose and high, prominent cheekbones. They had raven-black hair with violet highlights that was shaved at the sides while the long top was pulled into a tight bun at the back of their head. A purple-inked tattoo of three swallows swooped out of their hairline, fluttering across their left temple, and despite the harrowing day they’d had, the berry-colored lip stain and angled purple eyeshadow they donned each morning remained fairly well intact.

Miss Fortune worked hard to cut a visage that danced the line between masculine and feminine, though they often found themselves shackled with the ill-fitting label of ‘man’ by strangers who could only see the world in terms of this or that. All of which was more than the rogue was willing to explain to someone they’d just met.

“It suits me,” they said instead. “To my foes, an encounter with me spells their misfortune. And to my friends, well…I can only hope they feel fortunate to know me. And besides, everyone knows luck is a lady.”

“I can go with that,” Shadowheart agreed. “If not for you, I would have had the misfortune of staying stuck in that mind flayer pod. Though I hope you and our pale friend here will be able to hold your own out here. You both strike me as pampered city boys, judging by your lack of survival skills and soft hands.”

“I’m a city person, yes, but I would hardly consider myself pampered,” Miss Fortune replied. “Not everyone works with their hands, you know.”

“Yes, some of us work with our minds,” Astarion chimed in. “I’m a magistrate back in the city. All terribly boring work I assure you, though I can handle myself with a dagger.”

Having finished their fish and rations, Miss Fortune looked over at Astarion as he spoke and noticed him slowly pushing his food around the plate without eating.

“Food not up to your standards, your honor?” Miss Fortune jabbed. “I’ll take whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, by all means enjoy,” Astarion said, handing the plate over. “This is hardly the fare I’m used to.”

“So, how about you, Shadowheart?” Miss Fortune changed the subject while shoveling Astarion’s food into their mouth. “You mentioned you’re a cleric - you from The Gate?”

“I am, and I’ll be headed back not a moment after we find a cure. I’ve something very important waiting for me back home.” Shadowheart’s facial expression darkened; Miss Fortune sensed it was a touchy subject and wondered if it had anything to do with that strange artifact she carried. She’d been dodgy when they asked her about it after they reunited on land.

“Impatient to get back to a lover, perhaps?” they jested.

“I don’t see how that’s your business, but no, and we’ll leave it at that” she replied.

“All right, all right, we girls all have our secrets,” they said, crossing their legs and miming tucking an invisible strand of hair behind their ear. “Anyway, thanks for showing us how to set up camp. I’ve got cleanup.”

The trio each went their separate ways after dinner; Shadowheart and Astarion heading to their respective tents, Miss Fortune down to the river bank with the dirty dishes and a rag. As the half-elf knelt by the river scrubbing away, their senses were assaulted by all the unusual sounds and smells surrounding them. They were used to the din of pedestrians day and night, the hawking of vendors and clopping of horse hooves on cobblestones. There were always sounds and scents in the city, and even when they were unpleasant their presence was oddly comforting. Out here in the dark with all these new sensations, they found themselves feeling utterly alone and insignificant.

Another familiar and unwelcome sensation began to coalesce at the edges of their consciousness, as if their head were filling up with a swarm of angry bees. It happened often enough that the half-elf knew they didn’t have long before their mind assaulted them and robbed them of rational thought. They quickly finished their cleanup duties and rushed back to camp, placing everything in a neat stack by their packs. By this point, Miss Fortune’s lips and the tip of their nose had started to tingle, their chest felt tight, and the buzzing feeling in their head had intensified to a dull roar.

This can’t be happening right now, they thought to themselves. Please, please not now. For a devout person this would have been the time to begin praying, but Miss Fortune knew it was pointless; no god had ever deigned to answer before.

Perceived danger lurked in every corner, every shadow of the camp. Frantic and woozy, the half-elf began to search for a place that would be out of both Astarion and Shadowheart’s line of sight. They ducked behind a large rock that seemed to fit the bill and let their trembling legs give out beneath them. Crumpled into a ball, their breath grew shallow and ragged as a world of nightmares clawed into their thoughts.

Everything is terrible. I’m going to die out here, Miss Fortune’s thoughts screamed at them. I can’t do this, I can’t survive whatever those monsters did to me on the ship. We’ll never find a cure. I’m going to turn into a grotesque mind flayer, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My life is over. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! And I can’t do anything to stop it…I’m too weak…I’m going to die all alone. Utterly unloved. And nobody will miss me. Worst of all, I deserve this. I’ve never done anything worthwhile with this pathetic life of mine, not once in these miserable 28 years.

Tears rushed out and streamed down their face in an ugly, snotty mess as the panic fully gripped their mind. A gulping cry escaped their lips in defiance of their efforts to fall apart quietly, which only made them wish to hide somewhere further away from their new acquaintances.

“Is…something the matter?” they barely heard a cautious man’s voice call out. “Why, you’re positively shaking!”

Miss Fortune buried their face in their knees. “Please, don’t look at me,” they sobbed.

“I…should I leave?” Astarion asked.

“Go ahead. I’m…fine,” the half-elf lied.

“I’m not stupid, you are clearly not fine.”

“The Ma—my old boss always told me I’m just overly dramatic. I’m having a dramatic episode, as she used to call it.”

He’s going to hate you now too, the negative thoughts intruded. Not even a full day in and you’ve shown just how weak and pathetic you are.

Astarion stood there in dumbfounded silence as he watched Miss Fortune gulp for air, seemingly unsure whether to approach or wipe his hands of the whole situation and return to his tent.

“You should try this thing called breathing,” he called out eventually. “In, out…in, out…surely you know how it works.”

While the tone was condescending, it struck a cord. Miss Fortune focused on their breath between sobs, inhaling slowly through their nose and exhaling through their mouth. It took several long moments, but the angry bees began to fade and the maelstrom of negative thoughts receded along with them. Their chest still felt tight, their eyes ached, and as the last of the panic ebbed they were left with the usual crushing exhaustion; the usual collateral damage when they lost a war with their mind. Their body posture slackened as they heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” they mumbled into their knees. “I’m not usually this weak, I swear. It’s just been a hell of a day.”

“…you should get some rest,” Astarion replied, his voice deadpan and unreadable. “I’m not feeling tired just yet, so I’ll keep watch over you and the camp.”

Miss Fortune rose unsteadily to their feet, lurching to the side as their knees threatened to buckle. They recalled the flash of steel against their throat hours earlier; were they less drained from their mind’s attack they would have laughed at the irony of his offer.

“Thank you, I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching over us,” they lied instead. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, Miss Fortune,” he replied coolly.

It was all the half-elf could do to keep from hurting themselves as they collapsed onto their bedroll. Despite their misgivings about Astarion, they were too tired to keep their eyes open. And if he slit their throat in the night, well, they probably deserved it anyway.

[fantasyheroine]

Written in the Stars - Chapter 4

Pairings: Astarion x Tav

Rating: Explicit

Summary: For months Astarion and Tav have been growing closer and both of them would consider the other a good friend at this point. But is friendship really what either of them truly want? One night has the potential to change their relationship forever. Will the two of them be able to overcome the hurdles a new romance throws their way while they navigate the impending threat of the Netherbrain? Or will past trauma's come back to haunt them permanently? Get swept up in this whirlwind of passion, love, and fear as the characters of Baldur's Gate 3 take on the Cult of the Absolute.

Playlist for the fic

Read on AO3

Beta Read By: @thespookypumpkinwitch

Banner Created By: @rahuratna

Tag List: @rahuratna

Previous - Next

Chapter 4: With Eyes Wide Open

Word Count: 9,009

Warnings: Hallucinations

Song: The Wanted - Could This Be Love

A/N: This chapter is pretty Astarion heavy, as you read you’ll realize why. We are slowly starting to move our way through the angst and into fluff territory. I want to give a special thanks to my beta reader for briefly becoming a co-author when I was struggling through this chapter.

No one could stop Tav as she barged past each offer of comfort or beginnings of ridicule. With the speed of a giant elk but the grace of a newborn foal, she made a beeline for her tent. The entrance to the structure fluttered with a muffled thwap as her body collided with the canvas. Once her form had disappeared from view, high pitched sobs began to ring out amongst the campsite. Eyes met eyes as everyone glanced at each other. They all shared the same thoughts. What happened now? Had Astarion officially left? Should someone go after him? Should someone address Tav? Karlach started for the woman’s tent but Halsin put up a hand to stop her. 

“Give her time to process.”

The red woman went to protest but Halsin had that look in his eye that spoke of wisdom from years of experience. The hulking Archdruid was no stranger to internal disputes. He had dealt with many in his time as leader of the Emerald Grove and it came as no surprise to him that Tav and Astarion had landed themselves into their current predicament. They were both spitfires with the habit of sparking easily. Add in the complication of intense emotions that both parties had been ignoring for far too long, and the only logical outcome of how those feelings would inevitably come out was predictably a heated dispute. That wasn’t to say he held no worry for his friends but the Wood Elf knew that now was not the time to intervene. He may have also held a sneaky suspicion that all would work out in the end as nature typically knew what it was doing when in the face of passionate love. So he gave Karlach a reassuring smile as he stopped her.

“They will be ok.”

“But shouldn’t we…”

“They need to work it out on their own. At this moment interference will very likely make things worse as it can be assumed that both of them are still feeling incredibly raw. I highly doubt either of them are ready to talk about it.”

The shuffling of feet could be heard as the rest of the party shifted uncomfortably. They knew that there was wisdom in Halsin’s words but to stand aside and not help was a big ask. Gale stepped up to voice his concerns next. While it was often that he and the vampire butted heads, the wizard had come to consider the rogue one of his closest friends. The thought that the man might not come back had him lost to worry.

“What if Astarion doesn’t come back? What then? I for one don’t want to see him go and if talking to him would help in any way then shouldn’t we do just that?”

A knowing twinkle in the hazel of Halsin’s eye remained as he now directed his gentle smile towards Gale.

“If he chooses to leave then that is his choice. It would be wrong for any of us to try and stop him. But do have a little faith in our companion, Gale. He had as much a part to play in that conflict with Tav as she did. It was him who provoked her first, was it not? If he has any semblance of wisdom, he will realize that fact and look to remedy it.”

Gale clenched his jaw but said no more. Halsin waited to see if any more questions would be sent his way before beginning to address everyone still assembled.

“Let me make one thing clear. Our friends are teetering on the precipice of a drastic change in their relations. You saw, as well as heard, the outcome of a single kiss. I know that there is a betting pool going for how long the two of them will dance around their feelings for each other but keep in mind that their romance is not a game. They alone can determine how to proceed; and as their companions, the best we can do is offer our support on whatever the two of them decide by not meddling.”

He looked pointedly at Karlach who was scratching her neck sheepishly. After a moment of silence, a chorus of affirmations and nods were given before the party started to settle back into the various morning routines unique to each individual. Halsin caught the attention of Wyll, Karlach, and Gale with a beckoning hand.

“If it’s not too much to ask, I wish for you three to accompany me today in assisting the refugees. Cerys has informed me that she intends to lead the remaining Tieflings the rest of the way to the city and has requested an escort to the edges of these lands. Provided that I still know the way, I estimate that the mission will take us a day and a half. I had meant to bring this up earlier but, all things considered, I never found the right chance. Are any of you willing?”

Karlach clapped the man on the arm.

“Sure thing Hal. Doing something will be good for me. Help me take my mind off of everything that’s, well, you know.”

Gale nodded along with her words adding in his two cents when she had finished.

“I agree. I fear I’d waste the day away twiddling my thumbs in anxiety without a task to accomplish. Granted, I could always sort through my books and spell scrolls before we head out but I suppose Tav did say we have three days until then. Time spent helping a group in need is valuably spent time indeed. So on second thought, I stand by my original agreement and ascertain that I will come with. I can sort my things later.”

Wyll mentioned that he had been hoping to see the Tiefling’s off and would happily join in on the escort as from the very beginning all he had wanted was for the refugees to make it to Baldur’s Gate safely. Halsin’s smile brightened all of their moods as he beamed at their verbal assent. With little discussion, the group came to the agreement to head out by the time the sun was at its highest. Which was only in a couple of hours. Given Halsin’s time estimate they would spend the entirety of the afternoon and evening travelling with the refugees then finish guiding them through the lands the following morning. Before the group of four left, a brief meeting was held to explain where Halsin and the others would be heading. Everyone tried to ignore Tav’s sobs as they conversed but they were heart wrenching and loud. Again Karlach tried to go check on her friend but once more Halsin stopped her. They were leaving. With a final glance towards Tav’s tent Karlach joined up with the others. And so, the party of four went on their way to Last Light Inn, leaving only Shadowheart and Lae’zel to tend to camp, and potentially Tav.

Tav cried for what felt like hours before she sluggishly left her tent, hiccuping, and made her way straight to the collection of barrels where the alcohol was housed. She rummaged through the stash, pulling out the strongest of swills, before returning to her quarters with an armful of bottles. Shadowheart watched on in concern as the broken woman disappeared again. The ranger knew that drinking in her current state of exhaustion was admittedly a stupid idea, but she could think of no other way to drown out the pain of Astarion leaving. Pain she had brought upon herself. Gods. If only she had been able to manage her temper. Then maybe he would still be here. Anger had always gotten her into trouble as a kid and for a better part of her life she had spent her time trying to tame it. But when Astarion had said their kiss had meant nothing when clearly it did, it had sent her flying into a rage she couldn't have hoped to control. Maybe if she had punched him her tongue wouldn’t have betrayed her… Ugh. That wouldn’t have been any good either. Her eyes drifted to one of the daggers she owned lying amongst her collection of weapons. *No.* Drinking was better. She could drink herself silly. It would make for less questions should anyone check up on her. She took the bottle closest to her in hand and downed half of it in one go. The spiced liquid stung her tongue but did nothing to dull her aching heart.  Another sip had her finishing the entire thing. *Damn. Not even a buzz* She cursed herself for having built up a tolerance for the substance. Maybe her favorite rum wasn't going to work. She picked up a flask of Baalor’s Ale and tried that next, once again finishing it faster than a Dwarf caught in a drinking game. Still nothing. It was going to take a lot more to get her fully drunk and numb it seemed. With a sigh she started in on her third beverage while she let her mind spiral out of control.

Astarion walked with a stiff back out of camp. The moment he was out of view of the others he let himself start crying. His body dropped against a large rock and he hugged his knees to his chest. Sobs wracked his body. Tears mingled with snot, dripping into his opened mouth. Gods. Tav had actually done it. He had hoped she wouldn’t, but she had played with his traumas like a hawk with a rat. It hurt so fucking bad. The betrayal was worse than any other he had experienced. And while he had suspected it was coming, nothing could have prepared him for her few final words. How many times had he heard that exact sentence from Cazador’s mouth? Too many to count. And there she was, the one person he thought he could actually trust, saying the same damn thing. He should leave. By all rights, he should take his few measly things and go. She had crossed a line. But that annoying ache in his chest balked at the idea. Where would he even go if he left? He had no home and without the help of the others he would never stand a chance at killing his master. If he left now, he’d be hunted for eternity. Always on the run. He would never see Tav again… Or any of them, for that matter. No. He had to think this all through. Impulsivity had gotten him into this whole mess, it was not going to get him out of it.

He willed himself to stop crying but failed. It hurt. Everything about the past two days hurt. Never before had he experienced such heartbreak. Fuck. Why did he have to go and kiss her? He’d ruined everything. He should have just talked to her the night it happened. Should have talked to her in the forest. All she had wanted was answers. Why couldn’t he just give her an answer? His head throbbed. Exhaustion was creeping up on him. He couldn’t keep thinking about all of this right now. He had to rest. Collapse on a bedroll and trance for a bit. Yes, a good rest could help him process. It could clear his mind enough to think. But he couldn’t go back to his own bedroll. That was still at camp. And he couldn’t rest here. They could find him. All he wanted was space. He wondered briefly if Jaheira would lend him a room at the Inn. Surely he could convince the old Harper into letting him use one for a few days. That would require explaining why he wasn't at camp though. Not an option. He would just have to take a room then. Steal a key and lock the door. No one would know where he was this way. He’d have a bed and his own room away from it all. But could he even manage being sneaky right now? His whole body felt like a gelatinous cube.

With shaky legs Astarion did his best to climb to his feet. It took a few tries and he was leaning heavily on the rock the whole time. His first few steps were stumbling but with determination he forced himself to regain his regular gait. As he walked the world blurred in and out of his vision. Salty tears streaked down his face and landmarks he had memorized faded out of existence before suddenly appearing directly in front of him. The sun shone down in mocking glee, like it was taunting him. Teasing him to return to the shadows. His feet tripped on a raised vine creeping its way out of the earth and he fell to the ground without realizing what had happened. In seconds Cazador was stood over him, a knife in hand and an evil grin on his face. He scrambled back, palm splitting on the curs-ed vine which had brought upon his fall. Cazador stalked near, Tav’s final words ringing from his mouth. ‘Be a good boy Astarion.’ It was her. That hypnotic lilt in her voice saying the words he hated most. His master’s face shifted and then it was Tav looking down at him with a cruel smirk and empty eyes. The words were repeated but this time in Cazador’s deep baritone. ‘Be a good boy Astarion.’ He sprung up in fear. No! This wasn’t happening! It couldn’t be happening! Instinctively his hands reached for his daggers but there was nothing but leather and cloth on his hips. *NO!* He was sprinting before his mind could make sense of the images he left behind. Through scent alone his feet carried him all the way to Last Light Inn. Everywhere he looked depictions of Tav and Cazador tried to approach him. With a shout he scrambled his way onto the roof of the building, scaling the side like a spider, before blindly striking down the nearest window and catapulting himself inside. He clambered to what he thought looked like a bed and covered his face with its pillow. It did nothing to muffle his frightened sobs and soon Jaheira was peeking her head into the room to see who had disrupted the peace.

The Harper sighed at the sight of the distraught Vampire. She had been alerted by a scout that one of the adventurers had come barrelling into camp in a disjointed stupor. He had been screaming and lashing out violently at whoever tried to approach him. Softly she closed the door and turned the key in the lock.

Despite her short stature and relatively small frame, Tav had a metabolism that rivaled even the largest of strong men across the lands of Faerûn. It came from her active lifestyle and the lean muscle she had built up over time. She cursed that fact now though as she continued to struggle with getting black out drunk. She just wanted a moment's reprieve from the splintering pain shooting out from her chest. As she brought her eighth bottle to her lips, Shadowheart entered her tent.

“I brought you food. You need to eat.”

Tav rolled her eyes at the cleric, turning her head away from the food to instead nurse her drink. She didn’t feel like eating. Food would only make it that much harder for her to get drunk. Plus combining it with the mess of alcohol sloshing around in her stomach would surely cause a vomiting spell. She took another sip and hiccupped violently. The motion brought about a snot bubble from her nose. Without much care she swiped at the mucus with the back of her hand smearing it messily all over the bottom of her face. Shadowheart frowned. Tav was not in a good state. Normally the Elven woman would never be caught dead with any kind of blemish on her face. To so uncaringly spread snot everywhere meant that her mind was not in the present. The former Sharran tore her gaze away from Tav only to notice the seven empty liquor containers scattered around the ranger’s bedroll. She swore.

“Hells Tav. What do you think you are doing!”

Finishing off her current bottle Tav responded with a slur.

“Drinkin’”

She began to reach for a ninth when Shadowheart snatched the bottle from her hands taking it far out of her reach.

“Are you kidding me!? You'll kill yourself if you have another! How fast have you been downing these?”

“Gim it back.”

Tav haphazardly reached for the liquid, slurring again, but promptly fell on her face as she lunged forward. Shadowheart stepped out of her way and Tav’s face hit the floor with a resounding smack. Darkness was creeping in on the edges of her vision and Tav managed to mumble out a couple more words.

“Muh. Seepy.”

Shadowheart began to panic. If Tav fell asleep now there was a chance she wouldn’t wake back up. Frantically the cleric rolled her friend onto her side shaking her a bit.

“Shit! Don't sleep Tav! Don't fall asleep!”

Tav was too far gone to hear her words. The alcohol she had consumed far too quickly worked through her system like a tsunami. The darkness crept closer until all the woman could see was inky blackness. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and swiftly the Wood Elf passed out. Shadowheart sighed and quickly set to work on removing the alcohol poisoning from the woman’s bloodstream. It wouldn’t sober her up but at the very least the healing would prevent her from dying to her drink. Gently, she set Tav back on her bedroll using various pillows throughout the tent to prop her body into a fetal position. She collected all the remaining bottles she could find then left a glass of water off to the side of the poor excuse for a bed making sure the cup was still within reach should Tav wake up and need it. She kept checking in on her friend throughout the rest of the day, healing her when necessary and holding her hair as she retched. By the time night came about Tav was deep in a fitful trance.

It didn't take long for Astarion to fall into a restless sleep. Unbeknownst to him his body didn't trance, instead putting him into an uncommon slumber. Now it wasn't that elves couldn't sleep, they simply chose not to. It wasn't necessary for their wellbeing and the concept of dreaming made most Elven people uncomfortable. Trancing was the ideal state. A form of deep meditation that provided the required rest their bodies needed and a way to relive past lives and childhood memories. So when Astarion began to dream it was one out of only a handful he had ever had. It started with his eyes opening to see sunlight glittering through tree leaves. The chirping of birds made for a gentle background music as he tried to figure out where he was. The forest was unfamiliar to him, the fauna not common to the lands surrounding Baldur’s Gate. A primal part of him felt safe here. Like deep down, he belonged. As if he had been here in another life. A glimpse of reddish brown caught his eye as a creature disappeared behind a tree. Almost as if being pulled by some magnetic force he began to move towards the sight. It felt like his feet never touched the ground as he waded through mist, approaching this hidden being. Another flash of the same color had him drifting to the right. Carefully he navigated the towering oaks, watching for each time he could spot his mysterious prey. A river could be heard in the distance and as he made a few last turns around the ancient forestry, he came upon the running water. On the bank across from where he stood sat a slim, reddish brown fox. In its mouth a boot. A left boot. It chittered at him then darted off into the darkness beyond.

He approached the water’s edge, putting a foot into its stream. With a gasp he recoiled. The water had burned through his shoe, melting the worn material into nothing. His foot blistered from where the liquid had touched his skin. He looked across the river again. Ahead he could hear singing. A woman’s voice as lovely as bare skin on silken sheets. The smell of baking bread and a warm hearth flitted up to his nose. He spotted another flash of fox fur. Tentatively he risked another dip of his toe into the river. It burned just as badly as before. He retracted his foot opting to look behind him. The forest from whence he came had vanished. The picture of a cell had taken its place. His cell. In Cazador’s dungeon. An open coffin lay waiting. His breathing stilled. He could feel the cold clutches of his master reaching out to him. Frantically he searched for some way to cross the running water. There was nothing. No rocks he could jump on, no trees he could swing from. All he could see was the river, the cell, and the blackness ahead that held the promise of more. As he debated on what to do the laughter of a child reached his ears. A little girl was giggling. His little girl. He knew in his soul that that child was his. He could see them now. Tav was holding the hand of a white haired little girl as they danced down the steps of a cottage. They didn’t seem to notice him perched at the edge of the stream that kept him at a distance.

His heart lurched. He wanted to join them. Wanted to take up the free hand of that adorable white haired child and swing her between him and Tav. He glanced at the river. Then back at his cell. The choice was clear. Risk burning his flesh or fall back into the past. He didn’t know if he would even make it all the way across. Everytime he glanced up at the opposite shore it seemed further away. The current sped up, turning the running water into rapids. He would have to swim. He didn’t think he even knew how to swim. A breath on his neck had him stilling. White, veiny hands crawled over his shoulders digging sharp, pointed nails into his chest. Time was up. He had to decide. As Cazador began to pull him back into his cell, Astarion leapt. His body plunged into the freezing depths of the river. His skin burned. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was worse than all the torture he had endured. All the torment his mind had spun. With all of his willpower, he pushed through it. By some miracle his body propelled him forward. His arms crashed through the foaming frenzy as his legs kicked. The agony drew on and on but he did not die. His body did not melt away. As he fought the torrential waves lapping at his frame, new hands were reaching to pull him out. They were warm and soft. They lifted him out of the water with effortless might and pulled him into a hug. The scent of Tav hit his nostrils as he collapsed into the body encased in the brightest of lights. The sun on her skin dematerialized and he gazed upon the face that had smiled at him nonstop for the last five months. She was smiling once more; and as she held him close, his body sizzling and dripping wet, she kissed him.

Astarion woke with a start. He could still feel Tav's lips upon his own, her sweet scent filling his nose. His eyes snapped open. What in the Hells!? Had he been… dreaming? Surely not. He hadn't slept in centuries. But that wasn't a memory. And his body didn't feel like it did when he tranced. The scent of fresh blood caught his attention, taking his thoughts away from the vision momentarily. Across the room, on a table underneath a non broken window, sat three jars of red liquid. He approached the stand cautiously. Tucked under the first jar was a scribbled note.

‘Drink up, you look worse than death. Key is in the door. The room is yours. J.’

Jaheira. She had left him blood and given him the key to the room. He looked out the panes of glass separating him from the outdoors and noticed with shock that it was suddenly dark out. The moon was reaching its peak in the sky, putting the time around eleven at night. He glanced from the bed he had woken up on back to the stars. How had so much time gone by? He was certain that when he'd left Tav it had been mid morning. The dream came back to him and he realized with certainty that he had in fact been asleep. For nearly thirteen hours nonetheless. *Holy shit!* He must have been more tired than he’d realized for his body to fall into sleep and not trance. And to sleep for so long. Gods. It’s not like he felt any better than he had before. Apparently sleeping was not all it was chalked up to be. He grabbed a jar of blood then made his way back to the bed he’d passed out on. As he drank, he thought back on the dream that had followed him throughout his slumber. She had been there. Tav. His Tav. Or at least, a version of her that was his. She had been playing with their child. A little girl the two of them had worked together to create. The scene was as sweet as agave sugar. And he had wanted to join them. Why had he wanted to join them? It’s not like that was a future he could have. Nor was it something he was sure he even wanted. But the temptation had been there. Drawing him forward like a moth to a flame. It had felt… safe.

His thoughts switched to the river and Cazador. The burning water had clearly been a test. A barrier he was meant to cross to finally escape Cazador’s clutches. But why had Tav been on the other side? Why had she pulled him out of the water? He took another drink of blood, his stomach no longer cramping at the lack of food. It was curious. Tav had been in his life for such a short amount of time in the grand scheme of things and yet she was the one waiting for him on the opposite bank. What was it with her that had his mind always drifting to her presence? Sure she was beautiful but in his long life he’d seen his fair share of beautiful people. *Not like her* With a hand he batted away that thought. This was useless. Dreams were nonsense. He shouldn’t be putting any weight into the images that had played through his mind as he slept. They were just that. Images. Figments of one’s imagination unlocked and unfiltered, a Human had told him. They held no meaning. But then, what were psychic visions if not a form of a dream? Divination wizards existed and many of them dipped into the realm of imagination to aid in their prophecies. Maybe his dream had meant something.

For the first time in days he genuinely reflected on the time he’d spent with Tav. Life with her had been incredible. He liked the jokes they shared, the connection they’d built. He had never had a friend. Not one that he could remember. But with her everything came easier. His burdens felt lighter and at times, even almost, nonexistent. She was the hands lifting him from the rapids of torment. And in his dream after she had pulled him out he had felt happy as they kissed. He closed his eyes and put the stopper on the now empty jar. She had made a mistake today. They both had. He couldn’t hold her words against her when in her place he would have done the same thing. This whole time he had never once realized just how similar her methods of coping were to his. A mask. A defense. The use of cruel words meant to harm and push away in place of feeling anything close to vulnerable. He’d caused it. Made her feel little before she had the chance to break his heart more than it already was. She’d simply played her part exactly as she was supposed to for once. This was on him. All of it was on him. He’d kissed. Avoided her. Fought with her. Then ran away.

His mind went to the vision he’d been seeing moments before his collapse. She had morphed into Cazador and vice versa. Their voices entwining as one. He thought about the pain he had endured these past two days surrounding Tav. Then, he thought about all the pain he'd endured the past two hundred years. While the words had been the same, the differences between how they were said remained stark. Hers were in defence. A way to protect herself after enduring a deep hurt. Cazador’s were always malicious. Said to make Astarion feel insignificant. To assert the fact that he was owned. Tav didn’t mean hers. He knew she didn’t. This was the first time she had ever made him feel less than. Every other memory he had of her included nothing but her neverending, astounding acceptance of everything he was. Her hopes for everything he could be… There was no debating. He cared for Tav. More than he had realized. More than he had ever intended to. The thought of losing her felt worse than centuries worth of torture. If he lost her because he had pushed her away, he’d never be able to forgive himself. What that dream had solidified in his mind is that there wasn't a single life he wanted to live that didn't have her in it. Without her, his freedom meant nothing.

For the next two days Astarion kept himself locked in the room at Last Light Inn working through his thoughts and emotions. Jaheira kept supplying him blood and even lent an ear once or twice when he chose to open up. On the flipside Tav kept herself drunk. For three days she hadn’t seen him and had absolutely no idea where he was, her mind unable to do anything but turn to the worst. Halsin and the others returning on the second day had provided a brief distraction before the tears caught up with her once more and she slipped away with more alcohol. The only comfort her constantly inebriated mind could find was the red tent that remained pitched near hers every morning she stumbled out of her quarters to take a piss. He had yet to pack up and fully leave. On the final morning of his absence, Tav crawled her way over to his tent sobbing into one of the pillows he kept outside for lounging. Karlach picked her up once she had fallen into yet another trance and returned her to her own quarters.

Life at camp had barely changed as the two Elves worked through the fallout of their fight in different ways. Halsin had taken up the role of temporary leader, encouraging everyone to take this time to pack and prepare for the next steps of their journey. Ursa the black bear took over in tending to the young owlbear cub, Scamp, while Scratch attended to their mistress, Tav. Her animal friends were deeply concerned for her and they took shifts sitting outside her tent, or inside it in Fenrir’s case, alerting Halsin anytime they noticed something worrisome changing in her scent. The druid and Shadowheart took turns removing the poisoning from her body, forcing her to take sips of water when they could. It was during the evening of the third day after the fight that Astarion finally made his way back to camp.

Immediately upon his arrival his eyes searched for the woman of his affections. He wanted to set things straight. Make right on what he had wronged. But Tav was nowhere to be seen. When he could not find her sitting anywhere around the main hub in camp, nor in the woods nearby, he went with his next best option and asked Karlach. The Tiefling gave him a pitiful smile, welcoming him back but passing on grave news.

“Good to see ya again Fangs. Tav’s in her tent. Been there most of the day. She started drinking the day you left and hasn’t sobered up since. I’m afraid what you’ll find in there won’t be pleasant.”

Astarion frowned but nodded at the barbarian in thanks. He made his way over to Tav’s tent and immediately the stench hit his nostrils. Alcohol mixed with vomit. His nose wrinkled but he pushed through the flap anyways. Usually he would have announced himself but concern for Tav overrode habitual pleasantries. She was asleep when he entered. All around her were various puddles of regurgitated stomach contents. Concerningly there seemed to be very little food in the mix. Instantly he honed his hearing to focus on her heart and breathing. Her heart rate was definitely faster than what it usually sat at and her breathing was shallow. Quickly he stuck a finger into the nearest puddle. He sniffed the digit. The scent of alcohol and bile was strong but his keen sense of smell could detect the dilution in the substance. She had at the very least been drinking water. Or, his mind corrected as the noise of footsteps approached, someone had been forcing her to drink water. Shadowheart appeared at the entrance soon enough. Karlach had been the only one aware of Astarion’s return as he had yet to tell anyone else when his priority had been Tav. The Half Elf cleric glared at him.

“Fancy seeing you here. Come to make matters worse?”

He glared right back. Shadowheart had always been snide and rude. If there was one person he got along with the least in camp it was her. He growled at her hostility with slightly bared fangs.

“What I’m doing here is none of your business, cleric.” 

With a haughty expression Shadowheart turned up her nose and sniffed.

“I think it is, considering I’m the one who has had to clean up the mess you’ve made of her.”

His patience faded and he snapped.

“And an excellent job you’ve been doing at that. Letting her drink on an empty stomach.”

Shadowheart put a hand on her hip.

“She refused to eat! What was I supposed to do? Shove it down her throat!?”

“Yes!”

“You truly are impossible. Be grateful she’s even still alive! If I hadn’t been coming in here every few hours to encourage her to sip some water and remove the alcohol poisoning there would be no Tav left for you to continue to antagonize.”

At that comment his demeanor softened. Tav had almost drunk herself to death? What was she thinking? It wasn’t like her to be so careless. He looked over at the slumbering woman. Her chest was rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her skin had a tinge of green to its edges and had lost most of the sandy color that usually made up her flesh. He spoke in a hushed whisper.

“It’s been that bad?”

Shadowheart gave him a quizzical look at the change in personality. She had never once known Astarion to show such blatant care towards another.

“I tried hiding the rest of our supply from her but the moment she becomes lucid again she somehow produces yet another bottle.”

He looked away in shame and pain. This was just another thing that he had caused. If only he had spoken with her sooner maybe then she wouldn’t be on death’s door. He stayed uncharacteristically quiet as Shadowheart moved past him and hovered her hands above Tav’s sickly frame. White light moved from her palms into Tav’s body and he heard as the Elf’s heartbeat evened out. Her breathing was still shallow but that wasn’t much of a surprise considering the high level of discomfort she was likely in. He glanced at her face again. She was so pale and her face was scrunched up in clear distress.

“You can go, Astarion.”

Shadowheart’s voice broke him out of his trance like state. He had been staring at Tav for far longer than was socially acceptable. However the thought of leaving her like this had him protesting.

“I’m not leaving her!”

“You already did.”

The jab struck deep, piercing him like a javelin straight through the abdomen. He wanted to fight back against the cleric’s cruel words but he knew that what she said was true. If Tav woke up and saw him sitting in her tent after days of being distraught over his absence it would be a very hard pill to swallow that he was here again and caring for her. Slowly he stood.

“Fine… just… tell me when she’s awake.” 

Shadowheart looked at him in disapproval. She clearly did not like the idea of him interacting with Tav while the ranger was still out of it. He sighed.

“Please, Shadowheart.”

The cleric startled at the genuine sound of pain in his voice. After a moment’s thought she gave him a curt nod. Astarion took a few hesitant steps. He glanced back at Tav. His fingers twitched. He wanted to reach out and move the damp hair that clung to her face. Get a rag and clean her skin. But Shadowheart was watching him like a hawk. With resignation he turned away and left the tent. He spent the rest of the night in his tent wondering if things would ever be right between him and Tav again.

The following morning Scratch was lying on her feet when she awoke. To her chagrin she felt a little more sober than she had when she’d passed out for the umpteenth time. The dog sat up when he noticed her awake. He barked once before Tav covered her ears and mumbled the spell for speaking with animals. Scratch’s chipper voice floated to her ears as she uncovered them and he tried to speak again.

"You smell sick, friend."

Tav did her best to sit up too.

"Do I?"

Scratch cocked his head to the side studying her.

"What is wrong?"

The question had tears coming to her eyes again. She would have thought after days worth of crying her tear ducts would be fully dried up but everytime she thought about Astarion the water came rushing right back. Her voice broke as she tried to explain to the pup what was going on.

"Astarion he... I..."

Sobs wracked her body leaving her unable to finish her sentence. Scratch immediately got to his feet spinning in a nervous circle twice before moving to go and lick Tav's face.

"Oh no. Oh no! I do not like when my people cry! Don't cry Mistress!"

"Oh Scratch!"

Tav threw her arms around the white dog, enveloping him in a hug while she buried her face into his fur to muffle her sobs.

"What…” Her body let out a hiccup. “What am I going to do?"

Scratch stayed still as she clung to him but offered up the solution she had been asking for for the past three days.

"Do you need another bottle of that foul smelling liquid? I can go fetch you another bottle? Scratch is getting good at being sneaky. Would that make Mistress happy again?"

She pulled back and gave his head a good scratch in thanks.

"Another bottle would be great Scratch. Thanks buddy."

Tav let the dog go and Scratch made his way out of the canvas shelter. She didn’t have to wait for his return long before he was darting back into the tent seconds after heading out. Unlike the previous times he had gone to fetch her a drink, his mouth was empty when he came back to her side.

"Shit. Did you get caught this time?"

The dog’s tail was wagging with speed causing a cool waft of air to fan across her heated face. Scratch stood up on his hind legs then came back down to dig at the dirt in excitement.

"No! But I have news! News that will make friend most happy! The fanged one is back! He has returned!"

Tav was scrambling to her feet in an instant.

"What!? Since when!?"

The Swiss Shepherd Dog was spinning in circles again but this time he was not nervous.

"I am not sure but he is talking with the others!"

Tav made a quick glance to the flap of the tent then caught her reflection in her vanity. She looked like a downright mess. Snot was smeared all across her face and the remnants of bile and booze trailed in a stripe down her chin. Her long, wavy hair was matted to Hells, her eyes completely bloodshot.

"Fuck! I'm in no state to go see him. Scratch, tell Ursa to keep him out of my tent. I don't want him seeing me like this."

From the back of her tent a low voice could be heard.

"He has already seen you, Hatch Mother. He came in near an hour ago while you were in one of your times of… unfortunate resting. And that’s not even to mention last night."

Her head swiveled to spot Fenrir resting on his perch. The peregrine falcon was watching her with beady eyes. Not fully herself yet, she snapped at him.

"And you didn't think to tell me!?"

The avain looked on at her with judgement. He lifted a foot to his mouth to bite at one of his sharp talons.

"Your mind would not have comprehended it if I did."

Tav looked away in shame. Fenrir was right. When she had woken up last, she had still been so out of it. Speech was nearly indecipherable, let alone animal speak. She glanced around her room taking in the state of it. Puddles of vomit surrounded her bedroll. Empty bottles were scattered everywhere. A resounding stench caught her attention. It smelled like a horrible mixture of alcohol, stomach acid, and body odor. She risked a sniff of her armpit, recoiling in disgust. The smell was coming from her! Mortified, she brought her hands to her face. She couldn’t believe Astarion had seen her like this. And apparently not once but twice! Damnit! What kind of conclusions had he made? Did he think she was no better than a drunkard turning to alcohol as a solution to her problems? Or maybe he had been disgusted by her. Had come to talk things through but changed his mind once he’d seen the filth she had made of herself. It was beyond embarrassing! She turned back to Fenrir who hadn’t stopped observing her.

“Did he say anything when he was here?”

The bird tipped his head down and started to march in place. He was angry with Tav.

“Perhaps you should fix yourself and find out. I am not a courier pigeon.”

With a series of wild flaps Fenrir dive bombed her head before swooping back up to his perch. His message was clear. Get out of the damn tent.

Tav stumbled out and Astarion's eyes latched onto her immediately. Gods, she looked like hell. But it came as quite the relief to see her up on her own two feet again. She met his gaze after picking up the scattered bathing supplies she had dropped on the floor and for a moment they just stared at each other. He could see the horror washing through her at the sight of him. Before he could even begin to understand what that look meant, she was making a break for the lake near the campsite. She tripped and wobbled as she went and with concern he turned back to the companion he had been chatting with.

"Karlach will you...?"

The Tiefling was already standing when he turned to face her. She clapped Astarion on the shoulder giving him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry Fangs. I'll go make sure she doesn't accidentally drown herself while she bathes."

He sighed in relief.

"Thank you."

It took Tav the rest of the day to fully recover. The cold lake had done wonders at perking her back up but the hangover remained. As the day progressed she shied away from any conversation Astarion tried to initiate using the excuse that she had to go pack. A quick trance and a few medicinal herbs in the afternoon left her feeling almost back to normal but still she avoided the rogue. The following day went much of the same. Each time Astarion approached her she skiddled away like a frightened doe. He all but gave up on trying to talk with her. By the 10th day after the fall of Kethric Thorm, Tav announced that the party would begin their journey to Baldur's Gate. Everyone was well and truly packed by this point and many had expressed to her their desires to begin moving forward. Packing for her had gone slow, hindered mainly by the remnants of her drinking spree. But soon enough she was back to leading their group like she always did. Having received word from the Harpers early that morning when she’d gone to inform Jaheira of their departure, Tav called for a meeting. According to the druid woman’s scouts some Absolute cultists had been spotted lingering about. Tav requested that three companions join her on their own scouting trip to try and clear the way to their next campsite. Immediately Astarion volunteered. He had been wanting to find a way to remedy things between them and he hoped that by going with she would see that he held no hard feelings towards her.

She gave him an impersonal nod and he slumped back into his seat. Karlach and Gale volunteered next, Gale insisting that this adventuring party needed a little bit of magic in its midsts instead of just blades and arrows. She engaged in banter with the wizard and it caused his blood to boil. Usually she joked with him. Especially if it was at Gale’s expense. But things between them had changed. She was avoiding him now for some ungodly reason. As the four of them departed to begin he fell in step at the back of the group, crossing his arms over his chest to sulk. She had run away from him everytime he had tried to speak with her. He knew her mind must have been frazzled after their fight and clearly she had drunk her sorrows away instead of facing them. But being ignored still hurt. As he focused on the back of her head, copper ponytail swishing back and forth as she walked, he realized that this was likely exactly how she had felt when he refused to talk to her. For the millionth time since their big fight, he felt bad once again. How could he have been such an idiot? She had made it clear that night under the stars that the relationship the two of them had meant more to her than she’d been letting on. She’d told him she wanted him. Him of all people. And not just for sex either. She genuinely cared about him as a person. And he had gone and gaslighted her for two days straight.

Frustrated with himself he took out one of his daggers and began to spin it in his hand. The timing of the action couldn’t have been more perfect for it was at that moment they were jumped by a group of bandits. Tav had taken them on the main road that led into the city. She had expressed wariness at doing so due to how frequently raiders traversed the path. They had all agreed that it was worth at least trying before figuring out a different route. After all, the road was the most direct path into the city. It would save them days of travelling should it work out. It seemed, though, that her intuition had been right. Here they now were, surrounded by at least eleven well armed thieves. He could hear the Elven swear she let out under her breath as the bandits stalked closer. Carefully she drew her bow.

“Fancy meeting you fellas here. I don’t suppose you’ll let us go on our way. It’d be a shame to hurt such pretty faces.”

Tav’s silver tongue went into action instantly. Any time she could talk herself out of a fight was preferable to actually throwing hands. With a beguiling smile she snapped the string on her bow to enhance her intimidation attempt. The male ruffians just laughed at her.

“Wot’s a girl like you doin’ with a weapon like tha’? Tryin’ to play ‘ero?”

“Just give us your cash, sweet thing, and we’ll make this quick.”

“That’s not how this works boys. You see, what you’re going to do is leave us alone. Otherwise we’re gonna have a problem.”

“You hear that men? The little girl thinks she can beat us. What say you? Think she’s got a chance?”

“Not on ‘er life. She’s all of wha’? Five foot nothin’?”

“Yeah boss and her posse ain’t lookin’ too hot either. That one fella’s pale as a ghost meanin’ he’s all sickly like and then that other bloke is clearly a wizard. You know how easy they go down.”

“So what I’m hearing is the only challenge is the Tiefling?”

“I’m afraid you’ll find we are all quite the challenge. Astarion now!”

At her prompting he vanished into a blur, the speed of his feet turning him practically invisible. He snuck up on the one who had called him sickly, appearing behind the man with a snarl.

“I think you’ll find I’m pale for a different reason.”

With a flash of white he bit down on the idiot’s neck. The bandit thrashed under his hold, swinging wildly with his longsword. Astarion ducked away just as fast as he appeared and the roadway erupted into fighting. Darting back in, both daggers now in hand, he made swift work of the bandit he’d feasted from. Karlach roared, her skin igniting into a fiery hell, before she swung her greataxe in a huge arc clearing a way for Gale to retreat to a distance. The wizard took his opportunity and made it further up the path before he too joined in on the fray firing spells every which way. Another of the thieves dared to engage him and soon he was parrying each blow thrusted his way. The man was sluggish in his movements, leaving his left flank open each time he swung. With a series of dashes and bobs Astarion struck at the chinks between the man’s armor digging his dagger deep into flesh. As he fought he spotted Tav fending off three of the men. She was dual wielding her favorite shortswords spinning and dodging like she was born to fight. When one of them fell she took a risk to dart past the other two in an attempt to make it to higher ground. He watched with horror as a sharp blade made purchase against her scalemail armor tearing through it like it was nothing. 

It was as if time stopped. The fight faded away from view and all he could see was the bloody gash marring Tav’s delicate side. All at once, everything made sense. Everything he had been feeling. Experiencing. That ache in his chest. The dream. All of those thoughts and questions that had been swirling around in his mind. They all came to one harmonious conclusion. He loved her… He was in love with Tav. Time sped back up and he watched as she hissed, kicking the man in the groin before plunging her sword into his skull as he dropped to his knees. He laughed. Here was the woman he loved being the most badass person he had ever met. She was walking off that deep hit like it was nothing. Memories took over his mind as he relived every interaction he had ever had with her. It all made so much sense now. He had loved her all along. Fallen for her without ever meaning to. He knew what he had to do now. It was as clear as a cloudless sky. A slash to his bicep had him returning to the present.

He refocused his attention on killing the bandit in front of him. He would get himself hurt if he only focused on Tav. Reminding himself that she was an extremely capable warrior and that he’d have time to tell her everything later, he returned to dashing and bobbing, striking again and again at the man’s weak spot. Suddenly an arrow whizzed past his head with a whooshing noise. A thud echoed behind him as a body fell too close for comfort. His eyes met Tav’s as he traced the path the arrow had come from. She was still poised from the perfect shot. He risked a glance behind him and saw that the person she’d killed had been a hair's breadth away from striking a lethal blow. Finishing off the person he’d been fighting he took another look at Tav. She was tracking him. Another bandit came barrelling up to him, this one wielding a warhammer. Before the man had even begun to swing he was dropping to the floor from a well placed arrow sticking out of his right ear. Astarion held his breath as he realized with a start that Tav was zeroed in on protecting him. If it was possible his heart started to beat for the first time since he had died.

[rynaelasar]

would you happen to have intro posts for your tavs/durges or anywhere you've posted their backstories? i'd love to learn about them!

Apart from my rp blogs, i haven’t really spoken about them anywhere! I def want to do up posts talking about them and their backstories and plots more in depth. They've been rattling around in my brain for a while.

But for now, I’ll summarise them a bit here! I have waaaaaaay more than these ones but these three are kind of my “main” ones right now and the ones I make the most edits of.

First up we got my babe, Ryn. 

She’s my BG1 / BG2 protagonist who I picked up and dumped into BG3 because she had a 100 year vacation, its time for more suffering.

She’s a Sorcerer (Draconic) but she has some wizard training here and there and Warrior training too. Instead of a staff she uses a glaive.

Basically with her in the setting, the Durge that existed died from Orin’s attack (and looked a lot like ryn due to bg2 related shenanigans)

Bhaal decided to yeet all that Bhaalspawn essence back into Ryn bc he’s an ass who wants to punish her.

I’m VEEERY slowly writing fanfic about her. I’ve got a BG1 retelling in progress and i’ve written scenes for her being in bg3 but nothing substantial enough to post yet.

In her first bg3 run, I romanced Gale with her but on her second, I’m eyeing off Shadowheart. In bg1/2 she romanced a monk named Rasaad but that... uh. didn't end well. I'm planning on doing a bg2 replay with a mod that lets her romance Viconia.

My psd/colouring kinda hides it but she has scars and scales over her body which i made myself and im super proud of them.

Then there's Darci, my actual Durge.

she chose the name darci because someone asked what her name is and she panicked and said "the dar-" (franticly looks around for something, sees the chionthar) "-sea. darci."

she didn't know it was a river at the time. probably for the best. 'dariver' doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

She doesn’t exist in the same universe as Ryn, unless i decide i want them to meet in an au.

She’s your pretty average resist!durge. Rebelling against daddy dearest and killing her enemies!

I've also written some general fic stuff for her but not a lot.

She's actually mildly hilarious, unintentionally. She does nice things for people out of spite.

She’s a Wild Magic Sorcerer and Assassin Rogue

She likes to run around without what could be called a proper shirt.

She romanced Astarion in my first run. Unsure who I'm going to romance with her next.

When fighting Harleep in Hell, she had a wild magic surge and accidentally summoned a hostile cambion. Twice. I just wanted to mention that one because I'm still scarred by it.

And then there's Jeremy! I'm making the most edits of him at the moment because his is the game I'm actively playing.

Jeremy isn’t technically my OC, I just put him down as one on my edit blog cos its easier than fully explaining:

He’s technically a character from the book series ‘women of the otherworld’ by kelley armstrong. A urban fantasy werewolf series. He’s my fave character in the series and I’ve been rping him over on my rp blogs for a while now, and he’s somewhat canon divergent (i gave him a husband. its what he deserves.) When I got into BG3 i made him a bg3 verse and its sorta become my main verse to write him in lol. So he’s an AU of a canon character based on my canon divergence and headcanons. (I’ve also made more characters connected to him in bg3 but haven’t posted any edits of them yet.)

Explanation aside, Jeremy is a Half-elf Lythari (werewolf).

He’s a Ranger who lives in the woods with his (also lythari/werewolf) family.

He’s a bit of a homebody, doesn’t really like going into civilisation, or meeting new people.

So being abducted by mindflayers and forced to interact with a bunch of strangers really is the worst thing.

Except its fine (kinda) because Jer is The Ultimate Dad… so once everyone stops flirting with him, he just adopts them.

Astarion didn't like him to start with because he thought that Jeremy might have been one of the werewolves Cazador controls, but they work through that eventually.

Sometime during Act 1 he sends a letter to his family, delivered via Birds, to let them know he's alive and he's going to make his way to Baldur's Gate.

By the time he reunites with his husband in act 3 he’s like “meet our new adult kids i’ve adopted.”

But yeah he’s a werewolf but the tadpole is interfering with that to stop the full transformation

i've written some fic snippets about him too but haven't posted them anywhere because i genuinely don't know how to explain 'its not really a crossover but kind of!' 😂

honorable mention:

reese, she's actually my oc from an original novel i'm writing. in my novel, she can go to different universes. her bg3 verse is basically that. she got abducted by mindflayers while in another world, got stuck with a tadpole and is like "well shit." in faerun she is a bard. i got up to act 2 with her but then my mods killed my game in ... patch 7, i think? and i simply restarted her lol so i haven't gone very far in her run this time

[baldursgate3gayz]

Give Me a Constitution saving throw (Gale X Barbarian Tav fanfic)

(This is based on my sister and I's characters in a campaign we have together. Syx is the dumb barbarian who can't read and is fascinated with beautiful men. Gem is the warlock kinda bad bitch who don't take no one's stupid shit)

The fight with Nere was over fast.

At least, Syx thought it was. He couldn't really remember any of it. He also couldn't really see with his vision being so blurry or hear with how muffled everything sounded. He also felt hot, like really hot. He kind of hated it.

When he fully opened his eyes, a figure stood over him, some kind of halo around their head. Syx stirred a little at that.

"Are you an angel?" He asked with a rasp; his throat was dry for whatever reason.

"I don't think anyone would ever describe me as one,"

The barbarian blinked a few times, which helped his vision clear just enough to see this angel morph into his friend Gem. Her brow was furrowed, and she was frowning; Syx flashed her a smile.

"Gemmmm!! Even better, I don't want to see angels just yet,"

The elf above him shook her head at him, a slight smile on her lips as she took hold of one of his hands. "Yeah, yeah. That's not happening yet. Now, it's time to get up, big guy."

With great effort, she could at least get him to sit up, but as his vision swirled, he almost fell back. But instead, he hit a pair of legs that were behind him. There was a loud 'humph!' and Syx glanced behind him, and his heart fluttered at who he saw.

"Gale!" The barbarian yelled happily, gazing up at him. "I thought I wasn't supposed to see angels yet! What are you doing here?"

The wizard's face turned red, and the half-elf could vaguely hear Gem laughing. The two muttered to each other briefly, but Syx couldn't hear them, so he just stared up at the beautiful man above him. With his eyesight blurred, Gale seemed to shine brighter; sweat and grime caked his face, but he was still the image of refinement to the barbarian. No hair out of place, no blood on his face; Syx could stare for hours. The wizard looked down at him and said… something; the half-elf couldn't quite make out what he had said, but the wizard stepped away from him, much to his dismay.

Suddenly, Syx felt a tugging on his arms, and when he looked forward, Gem and Astarion were pulling on his arms. When he felt Gale pushing on his back, the barbarian realized they were trying to stand him up. With great effort, he hefted himself up with the push and pull help, getting to his feet. He swayed very far forward; the warlock and rogue looked up at him with fear as they were about to get crushed. Syx swung himself backwards, although he went a little too far and felt Gale give him a great shove forward. The barbarian could hear the group yelling at each other, mainly Gem yelling at the other two men, but he couldn't make out the words they were saying. Finally, Syx stopped swaying and was semi-stabilized; he gave the group a dopey grin but winced as he did when his head throbbed in pain. A hand was placed on his arm, and he looked down at Gem.

"How are you feeling?" She asked with concerned eyes.

It took Syx a second to answer through the ache in his head.

"I can't see well or hear well, and my head kinda hurts,"

The elf was nodding as he spoke. She looked around momentarily before turning to the other two, and Syx tried his best to listen in on them.

"We should sit him down; Astarion and I will take care of Nere and-"

"Nere?" The barbarian yelled, causing the other three to flinch. "Where is that bastard? He needs an axe to the face!" The half-elf tried to look around, but the world started to spin again. He'd have lost his footing if the three hadn't caught him. "Don't worry, Syx, we got him," Gem gestured to the others to grab ahold of Syx's arms, and she started walking back. The half-elf felt his arms get hosited over the two men's shoulders and heard a disgusted grunt from his right. "Gods, you stink! How can you even stand yourself?" Astarion whinged. "Gale doesn't mind," Syx answered, hearing a snort from Gem and an embarrassed groan from the wizard.

The two men helped guide the large half-elf to a wall and had him slide down it to sit against it. Syx closed his eyes to ease some of the pain in his head; he could hear the others talking a little better now.

"We'll get Nere's head. Gale, I trust you can watch him for those few minutes," Gem said.

"Even in a time like this, you still are finding ways to be snide?"

Syx heard a smack.

"Agh! Yes, yes! I can watch him! He's not going to do anything anyway,"

"Watch your tone, wizard; you have a track record of failures when it comes to him," Gem growled.

"Are you going to get the drow's head or not?" Gale snapped back.

There was a brief pause, another smack, and a yelp of pain from the wizard before Gem spoke again.

"Come on, Astarion. I'll be back, Syx; just stay here." He felt her hand ruffle his hair and hummed at her, eyes still closed as they walked off. There was a beat of nothing but the muffled sounds of lava flowing when a hand was placed on Syx's cheek. He opened his eyes to see Gale kneeling before him, his head tilted as he looked over the half-elf. The barbarian nuzzled into his hand and smiled.

"Are you alright?" Gale asked quietly.

"Better with you here," Syx answered, gazing at the beautiful man before him. The older man laughed as he brushed his thumb across the barbarian's cheek. "You're ridiculous," He whispered, smiling back at the younger man. In the dim light of the lava, with his ears muffled and his vision hazy, Syx felt his heart give a decisive thump. Gale looked so human, covered in the aftermath of a tough battle, with a smile that made Syx understand why Mystra chose him as a lover. The greys in his hair seemed to sparkle, his eyes held a spark of the Weave, and the way he smiled at the half-elf as if he was the only person in the world. He was true beauty, body, and soul. Syx wanted him to know.

"I love you." He said as he gazed up at the most beautiful man in all the planes.

---

"I love you." Syx said.

And Gale's heart seized.

He couldn't get his brain to even think of what to say as his tongue lay fat and useless in his mouth.

Syx had just told him he loved him.

Syx, the 20-year-old huge, half-elf barbarian who has no memory of who he was before the nautiloid, who couldn't read and potentially had brain damage from their last fight, just said he loved Gale.

And all the wizard could do was stare back into those mismatched purple and orange eyes staring back up at his.

"And what are you two doing?"

Gale startled back, much to the apparent disappointment of Syx, and looked over his shoulder at Astarion, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. The wizard glared at him. "Nothing, where's Gem? Did you get the head?" He asked as he knelt back down to the barbarian, who practically squealed as he did. Gale tried to ignore the flutter his heart gave. "She's talking to the gnomes. It was all rather boring, so I left, but whatever is going on here seems much more interesting," The vampire spawn drawled with a smile. The wizard was very tempted to throw a cantrip at him, but enduring Gem's wrath would not be worth the moment's joy, so instead, he just focused his attention on the barbarian. "Nothing's going on. I suggest you drop it." He said lowly, brushing aside some of Styx's hair to check for visible injuries. He heard the vampire click his tongue. "Oh, fine; I swear you are just no fun."

"Who's no fun?"

Gale looked up from Syx to Gem, standing above them with her arms crossed. She glanced at Astarion before looking down at Gale; the warlock shrugged. "Never mind, I think I already know," The wizard frowned at her, then stood, holding one of Styx's hands with his own to keep the half-elf happy. "Did you get the head?" Gale asked. The elf kneeled down next to Syx, who gave her a goofy grin, and she smiled back. "Can't get to it with all the duergar here. We'll have to wait until tomorrow," Gem gave the barbarian one last look over before standing. She had Syx's other hand in hers. "It's fine, though. We should probably get the big guy to camp and have Shadowheart and Halsin give him a look over," She said as Gale nodded. They both chuckled when Syx made an interested noise at Halsin's name.

"You know, we could just leave him here."

The wizard and warlock looked over to glare at the pale elf, who had his hands on his hips and a rather smug grin. Gale opened his mouth to berate him, but Gem beat him to it as she launched an eldritch blast that whizzed past the wizard's ear and flew just above the vampire's white hair. Gale smirked at the spawn's shocked expression and tried to help get Syx on his feet again. Gem joined in, and after a minute of failing, Astation joined them, mumbling something that sounded a lot like "No one has a sense of humor." under his breath.

---

Gale sat atop some ruble away from camp, staging into the darkness of the ruins of the Shar temple. The party had gotten back to camp a few hours ago, handing their barbarian over to Shadowheart and Halsin for a quick check-up. It was surprisingly easy; Syx followed every instruction the wood-elf gave him. Gale had tried to ignore the stir of jealousy in his stomach at how the two men looked at each other but found it a little too difficult, especially with Syx's words still rattling around in his brain. So he decided to leave camp for a bit, hoping the silence would soothe his brain, but it only allowed him to think of Syx's confession repeatedly. Those wide eyes staring at him, how honest the barbarian's voice was, it was all a little too much for the wizard. He was about to resign himself to a sleepless night when he caught a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye.

"Syx?"

The barbarian's head popped into view, and he gave a wide smile.

"Oh, hi Gale!"

The wizard stood from his spot. He was able to see the half-elf-full with a blanket around his waist. From past experiences, he knew that it was the only thing he had on.

"What are you doing up?" Gale asked, a bit concerned.

"I had to pee. Halsin said I could," The barbarian answered.

The wizard chuckled. "Well, if Halsin said,"

Syx nodded and turned to leave. Gale panicked a little as he took a step forward.

"Syx! Uh, wait," The half-elf turned to him, tilting his head at Gale, and he couldn't help but see the similarities between the barbarian and Scratch. "How do you feel?" The wizard asked, cringing inwardly as his voice cracked.

"Ok, my head kinda hurts, but other than that, I think I'm fine," Syx answered. Gale's heart pounded as the two looked at each other; the confession of the barbarian weighed between them. The wizard opened his mouth to speak, ready to talk about it when the half-elf interpreted him. "Although, I don't remember anything from the fight,"

The wizard paused. "You don't remember…?"

"No, all I remember is talking to Nere and then waking up in my bed roll. Halsin filled me in about what happened," The barbarian answered.

"You don't remember anything after the fight either?" Gale asked, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

Syx shook his head. "Nope, just Nere's stupid face, then having to pee," He tilted his head again. "Why?"

Gale stammered for a second, trying to organize his scattered thoughts. "Uh, no reason. It's probably not good that you do not remember any of that Syx,"

The half-elf shrugged. "I don't remember my life before the mind flayers; what's one fight?"

The wizard was a bit stunned at his response but laughed. "I supposed that's true.," The two chuckled before the he looked up at the younger man. "You should probably get back to bed," Gale said through huffs of laughter. The barbarian saluted him as he stepped towards camp but paused, looking back at the wizard. "You should head to bed too, Mister Gale of Waterdeep," Syx teased with an eyebrow raised. Gale nodded and put his hands up in a playful defense. "I will, I will. I promise," He said, giving the younger man a smile. His heart squeezed, and his orb glowed faintly when the barbarian gave him a broad smile and stared at him like he was the only man in the world.

"Goodnight, Gale." Syx said softly, just loud enough for the wizard to hear.

"Goodnight Syx." Gale said back at the same volume.

The two continued to look at each other for a moment before Syx stepped away, heading back to camp. The wizard watched the half-elf walk off, a little skip to his step. The wizard waited till he was well out of earshot before he signed, whispering under his breath.

"I love you too."

The original was posted on my aO3

thank for reading about my boi and his love for Gale

[starsthoughtsonthings]

Putting this here because this is for now my pinned post: If you ever wanna talk or something, please feel free to reach out. I could always use more people to talk to - though I am shy and not good at social, so don't expect too much from me.

Made this blog, gonna start it off immediately so I don't forget about it, too.

Edited in: Link to her dress because I just shared it and I love it a lot!

Editing in some more links over time:

Tag for more info about Kori (her normal tag is also for pictures/recordings and stuff)

First post, of course, about my character. A lot of pics incoming, will try to put at least some of them below a cut.

So yes, this is my girl. Kori, or Star how she's also called. Elf sorceress with wild magic, lived her life in Baldur's Gate in their family estate without ever really leaving it. - Prefers fire and radiant spells, and has the spell for flight, I like to imagine that flight is either an innate part of her magic that she can like always access, or at least a thing that her wild magic tends to often give her. - Not really used to how people can be, she is very trusting and friendly and somewhat naive, and of course very easily swooned (and barely even realizing he might not mean everything) by the antics of a certain elf rogue that joins her group pretty early on in this adventure. If they would have met at a different situation, she would probably have been one of his easiest 'targets' to lure in.

Here's a pic of her outfit, and on the second/right pic how I would like for the colors to be (as a badly done quick edit). I haven't considered editing mods yet, though, so the blue thing is what you'll see on most of my screenshots even though I would prefer the purple silver because that's kinda her thing.

Yes, you might notice from her name and colors, she is based on Starfire, because I almost always go with a character like that.

I'll spam you with some more pictures (the cut was here first but I changed it to have this look better/shorter as pinned post), and I would like to note just how pretty this game looks a lot of the time. Like wow.

Okay, that's all I have to say for my first post. I don't know what tags to add - I don't think it'll show in tags anyway, but because it is about the game, I'll just throw the BG3 tag on and then it's done.

Down here I'll add links to other posts I made about her, until I figure out a tag to use for her I'll link the posts here so I can easier find them again.

Plan for the future

Foreheadtouchy bc I need to link it here

Summary of a few things happening within Act I of the game

Example of her "dynamic" with Astarion

How I'd like to do the confession scene

Sleep instead of Trance

Some thoughts and stuff about her

[paganwitchisis]

A Different Type of Adventure (Fenris X Female Hawke)

Here is a different type of fanfic but don't worry! I am not abandoning my Astarion X Tav fanfiction!!!

Word Count - 5,712 words

Summary:

"What happens when Varric, Anders and Isabela find themselves in a situation where they are hiding in a wardrobe in Hawke's bedroom? What happens when Hawke comes home with Fenris and it leads to smut? Will the three get out of the peeping show or be caught?

Read and find out!"

Rated E for explicit

NOT BETA READ

AO3 Link here!!

Story:

Voyeurism

This was not the intended goal of the day but Isabela was not very picky, especially considering who she was watching. It started out harmless enough. Hawke wanted to go to Lowtown that night and reduce the gang activity there as a favor to Aveline. After becoming Champion, Hawke was helping most of her friends out because the clashes between the Mages and Templars couldn't solve itself without Hawke making the decisions. Isabela almost rolled her eyes when she saw Knight-Captain Cullen even bending to her will. Of course this prompted her to mention other things that could be bent over and a sharp jab to her arm in response.

Isabela easily met up with her other party members outside the Hawke estate but when they knocked without a response, Varric grew suspicious. Varric was probably the only person better at lock picking than she was so between the two rogues and a very feathery mage, they were easily able to gain access to the estate.

Except it was empty.

Bodahn, Sandal, Orana and even their Mabari were suspiciously absent. Varric glanced around the spacious room, calling out to those inside. “Hello!? Hawke?”

With silence to greet him in return, he merely shrugged as he faced Isabela. While doing so he spied Anders acting weird near Hawke’s bookcase as Varric could swear he saw Blondie put a book into her collection.

“She wouldn't have left without us would she?” the dwarf inquired.

“I don't think so. Maybe she isn't home yet? Or maybe….she hasn't left yet” Isabela almost purred at such a naughty thought as she jumped the steps towards Hawke’s bedroom.

Ok, maybe voyeurism was part of her goal but she never thought she would succeed. Since Hawke began her relationship with the strong broody elf, they held a fairly private life. No matter how much she tried, Isabela could not get anything out of Marian on her glowing boyfriend. It was common knowledge they were together of course. From the small glaces to the worried face Fenris would sport whenever Hawke would seem to be in danger, they all knew.

Alas, when she bust through the door with Anders and Varric chasing behind her, it was empty too.

“Andraste’s flaming…” Isabela scowled before hearing the front door slam shut and shouting from the foyer resuming where she left off.

“You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“I didn't. I knew what I was doing. I swear, if I have to...”

“Have to what?”

“Have to put up with your jealousy and paranoia much longer then I'm going to snap!” Hawke’s distinct voice rang true through the halls of her estate. Hearing parts of her argument, Isabela took notice of their location. Isabela looked towards Varric who pointed towards the window near by. Wouldn't work of course. They could be seen before reaching it and even if they weren't, it was too far a drop to even consider a viable option. Anders looked around aimlessly, unsure of what to do. His attire made him stand out and there wasn't a lot of options available to them.

“I'm not paranoid. I'm….you're mine Hawke” Came a deep masculine voice not far from their position.

“Yours? Last I checked you left me 3 years ago! Dropped by for some fun and...”

Isabela didn't have to hear the conversation to know that both Fenris and Hawke were fairly angry at one another. Going with her gut while hearing the increasing foot falls come closer, she dragged Anders and Varric into Hawke’s wardrobe as stealthy as she could to hide their presence.

“I made a mistake! One I cannot repeat again.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

Isabela pressed her ear to the closed door to hear what was going on, all the while the boys were struggling to fit the narrow conclave.

“I am yours. I….cant stop thinking about you. I cannot see you get hurt or fall to anothers arms. I love you Hawke.” Fenris snapped his last statement as fast as he could before Isabela heard a bang against the wall inside their bedroom.

Was Fenris getting beaten up?

Did Hawke throw something?

Would Isabela die from not knowing these answers?

The answer to the last question was yes so as gently as she could muster, Isabela opened the door slightly so a sliver of light shined into the wardrobe. This illuminated the situation as all three were now able to get a general idea what exactly was going on.

Fenris had Hawke against the wall. His hot breath ghosting over the nape of her neck as his arms stood against either side of her shoulders.

“Don't make me say it again. You’re mine. I wont watch you get hurt, from me or bandits.”

Fenris growled into the side of her neck before he turned gentle sucking of her flesh to a more ferocious pace. Hawke would have some bruising in the morning if the scene was any indication.

“Consent is a hot thing too Broody” Varric muttered under his breath jokingly. Isabela knew better though. She knew they liked the power play and at least in Hawke’s case, knew that Fenris had consent. Hawke was a powerful woman and even if she withheld beating Fenris to a pulp, Hawke was no love sick fool. Isabela knew this from her early conversations with the woman before Fenris came into the picture. Hawke had a perchance for losing control in the bedroom and inspired Isabela at the time. This would be no different. Isabela licked her lips, suddenly realizing how dry they were as she watched the two, fully clad in armor, attempt to undress each other.

It would have been funny if it didn't take so damn long. In fact Isabela thought her legs fell asleep. She did notice that their feathery friend had been very quiet and uninterested in the liaison they were witnessing. Whispering as low as she could (although the clanking of armor could sound proof the room easily), Isabela addressed Anders.

“Got your knickers in a twist? It’s just sex”

“Just sex? Do you have eyes?” Anders exasperated his sentence as he signaled toward the pair “He is taking advantage of her!” His whisper threatened to get louder as he continued “I have to do something!”

Isabela merely sighed and addressed his concern

“Look, she knows what she is doing. Just because she is sleeping with Fenris and not you doesn't mean he is taking advantage of her. She is a big girl Anders. What do you propose? We bust out of here, humiliate her and drive her away from us? Think this through”

Anders couldn't speak for a moment. She was right. Doing anything would have the exact opposite effect than he intended. He was a little irritated that the words of wisdom were bestowed on him from the pirate herself. Isabela returned her attention to the view before her to see Fenris fully divested of his armor, Hawke’s armor lying on the ground nearby as well. Fenris kept Hawke pinned against the wall of the bedroom, his one hand cradling her neck, his other wrapped around her waist to settle on her backside. Fenris passionately pressed his lips to Hawkes’ while her hands roamed his lanky body.

“Im not watching this” Varric commented and like something Isabela would expect from a child, he closed his eyes and put his fingers in his ears. He knew them both long enough to consider them family and peeping in on them just felt wrong. Meanwhile Anders watched with rapt attention, much to Isabela’s delight. At least someone would share in the show before them.

“Fenris” Hawke murmured against his lush lips “Did you just say you loved me?”

“Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life.” Fenris drew his arms around Hawkes middle and grasped her ass, earning a surprised mewl as Fenris carried her to the bed. He may be thin but the man had muscle. Muscle that Hawke very much appreciated as Fenris gently laid her down on her comforter.

“Ooh, it’s going to get good” Isabela whispered as she looked at her feathered friend. Anders looked angry and stunned at the same time. He couldn't tear his eyes away but he didn't want to see Hawke fucked by another man. He was doing everything he could to keep his emotions in check so he wouldn't accidentally humiliate his friend. He didn't care for Fenris but Hawke was someone he was hoping he could share a life with. When she ended up with the broody elf, he thought it would be a passing fancy but love? He wasn't sure what to feel. Angry? Upset? Sad? He felt it all at once.

Isabela unaware of the plight her friend was going through and shifted in the wardrobe silently to get a better angle.

Fenris resumed kissing Hawke deeply as his tongue glided inside Hawkes moist and silky mouth. Hawke moaned as Fenris brought her hips close to his and she felt the bulge in his pants.

Hawke pulled back to utter “Eager are we?”

“If you dont want to…”

“Fenris.” Hawke cut him off “I love you too. Now fuck me you gorgeous man”

Fenris smirked while unknowing to them, Isabela was swooning in their hiding place. “Those idiots finally admitted they love each other!” she whispered to Anders who protested

“He left her before. He’ll…”

“Shh! It’s getting good”

Hawke reached for his leggings and fiddled with the ties as she got up from the bed and pushed Fenris gently against the bed so he was facing the fireplace as he sat on the edge, a perfect view for those inside the wardrobe.

Sparing little time, Hawke helped him free the confines of his throbbing cock.

Isabela did her best to cover her mouth and stifle the gasp as she finally got to see how far those marks went. His cock may not have been the biggest she seen but it wasn't small by any means. Isabela felt herself get warm deep in her loins. Watching her friends make love was definitely a turn on.

Hawke dropped to her knees and without hesitation took him deep into her mouth. Fenris moaned as Hawke worked his shaft at an even pace. Hawke moved her hand up to gently cup his sack while her other hand held the base of his erection. She stroked in tandem as her moist hot mouth worked him at a faster pace.

“Hawke…” Fenris warned before he arched back and let out a guttural gasp. Hawke smiled and drank him down as she worked his shaft until the throbbing subsided. She pulled pack and wiped her mouth.

Anders was incensed as he watched helplessly from the wardrobe. He gritted his teeth and whispered in a desperation.

“I cant stand this. I need to do something. He isn't good for her!”

“She loves him Anders and from what I can see you're just jealous”

“Jealous? That’s absurd!”

“Is it?” Isabela was fascinated by the lovers outside their hiding place and gently rubbed her breeches at the junction where they met. She was horny and she would be damned if Anders ruined such a good show.

“Do what Varric is doing then. I’m not going to have you ruin this for her!”

Anders didn't turn away, he watched as his dislike for the elf crept.

Meanwhile Fenris had Hawke spread before him on the bed, her hips thrusting in the air as she begged for attention to her maidenhood.

“Please Fenris, please!”

Fenris smiled and removed her small clothes to see how wet she truly was. Beneath her wet curly hair he could see her plump and beautiful pussy and Fenris leaned down to taste her. Fenris licked her clit first which earned a yelp of a moan from her as she arched her back.

“Please!”

He wasn't going to tease her anymore. He dove his tongue into her cleft as she gasped in surprise. He worked her maidenhood between her clit and her cleft, leaving Hawke gasping for words of encouragement. She moaned loudly as he circled her clit in a way he knew would bring her pleasure.

“I'm close…you're so beautiful please….more!” Hawke gasped

Fenris used his two fingers to enter her and hit the special place just inside where he knew she loved. His attention back on her clit as he pumped his fingers inside her was enough to push her over the edge.

Hawke came with a cry of his name, her back arched and her hands digging into the sheets beside her. Fenris helped her ride through the climax and when she was done and settled between her legs.

Isabela was positively dripping at this point. Fenris was an attentive lover which made Isabela slightly jealous herself. She wished she could join their fun but she knew it would never happen. Best she could do was go to the blooming rose after escaping the infernal wardrobe. Anders had his hands closed into fists as he watched on. Anders had imagined doing the things Fenris was doing to Hawke and imagined doing them himself. He only hoped it wouldn't take long for them to reach their end because he wasnt sure how long he could keep himself in check.

Isabela meanwhile was gently rubbing herself over her clothes.

“Finally the good part!”

Isabela couldn't hear what the lovers were whispering to each other but before she knew it, Hawke was on all fours while Fenris was slamming into her from behind. They oddly enough were facing their direction so Isabela had to step backward slightly to avoid being seen.

“Harder!” Hawke cried out.

Fenris, ever the caring partner, started to pull back and slam harder into her dripping warm and silky pussy.

“Yes! Like that!”

Fenris repeated his actions and soon the sound of skin slapping and moans of pleasure were the only things heard in the moderate bedroom.

Anders watched as it appeared that Fenris was looking right at them as he pounded her special place. He couldn't know though of else he would have stopped...right? Anders didn't like the view. It was like Fenris was staking a claim and it unnerved him.

Isabela meanwhile almost let out a moan herself. Fenris was an excellent lover and from the looks of things, he knew exactly how to make Hawke feel good. Isabela gave up denying her jealousy. She wanted to join of be fucked...now. She couldn't though so she watched as Fenris leaned forward and kissed the nape of her neck. He muttered something to her and she was then pushing back on his swollen cock.

Isabela was surprised by how long it took for them to climax but when they did it was with Hawke on her back and Fenris sharing a kiss, muffling her cry of pleasure. Fenris waited until he emptied everything inside of her before pulling out his limp appendage.

Isabela sighed in relief, finally they could escape. They just had to wait for them to leave or fall asleep. Anders looked like a ghost, his face was pale while his knuckles were white. Isabela couldn't blame him, it was a very erotic show and he loved her. It was known to all how much Anders coveted Hawke but she never desired him. It was a one sided relationship.

Before she could asses further the door opened up before them shinning light into the tight wardrobe. At first it blinded Isabela before she realized what was going on. Hawke stood there with Fenris, she was dressed in a robe while Fenris had his trousers on.

They were caught.

“What do we have here?” Hawke exclaimed.

“Can I opened my eyes yet?” Varric asked and Hawke smiled. At least one of the group had some manners.

Hawke reached over to Varric and tapped his shoulder.

“Oh shit. Were in trouble” Varric mentioned as he opened his eyes to see his friend there before them.

“So, care to explain why you are all in my furniture?”

Isabela stepped out of the wardrobe and yanked her feathery friend with her. Varric came out lastly.

“We were to meet up. When we didn't see you here, well we panicked when you and Fenris came in.” Isabela explained calmly. She didn't feel in trouble, this was just a show although she did look to Fenris who looked very perturbed.

“So you thought hiding and watching me get my brains fucked out was a better idea?”

“We didn't plan it, we swear! Although I do have to say you put on quite the show. How did you know we were there?” Isabela asked

Hawke sighed and placed her hand on her forehead exasperatedly like she had a headache from the question.

“We could hear you. You guys suck at whispering”

“So wait….you kept having sex on purpose? Knowing we were there?” Anders finally spoke up in shock.

It was at this time that Fenris stepped forward.

“We were going to stop but Hawke convinced me not to. She didn't want us to have our night ruined because of this”

“Varric, you can go. You weren't watching but I have something to say to these two” Hawke mentioned as Varric took the time to walk out the door with slight blush on his cheeks.

Once Varric left, Hawke placed her hands on her hips and looked at her two friends.

“I can expect this from Isabela but you Anders?”

Isabela chuckled while Anders recoiled in surprise.

“I didn't want to upset you. I did think something was up when you both were facing us at one point. How long did you know?”

“Not long before then” Hawke replied

“Anders narrowed his eyes at Fenris “Were you staking a claim when you were watching us?”

Fenris snorted exasperatedly “Maybe although Hawke is not an object to stake a claim in. If you cared about her you would know this”

Anders frustratingly threw his hands up and walked out the door leaving Isabela alone with the lovers.

“So can I…” Isabela started to ask before the couple replied “no” in unison

“Spoil sport. I’ll just go to the Rose.” and with that Isabela had also left the room.

Hawke turned to Fenris and eyes him curiously.

“Is that why you wanted to face them?”

Fenris smiled and stepped closer to her. His hand caressed the nape of her neck and his other hand wrapped itself around her waist. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Moments later he pulled back and whispered in her ear. “I’m yours”

Hawke chuckled and looked towards Fenris again.

“Want to go for round 2? Now that we aren't being watched?”

Fenris chuckled and replied “You loved it.”

“Yes. Yes I did”

[onlyfngs]

continuing (x) with @hochmvt

The questions the tall new aquaintance asked Astarion cleared up some uncertainties he had. If Isaiah had to ask what he wanted in Baldur's Gate he couldn't know about the dangers that loomed over the city, the brewing chaos. News didn't travel that fast. Different to the cultists that influenced The Gate, it seemed. Those had already slithered their way into positions of power in Athkatla as Astarion had come to find out during his short stay. That's why he was welcomed in the first place. He didn't know anybody in the city. He had been a baldurian street rat for two hundred years. But among the Absolutists that he had found here he was a Chosen One. A True Soul. They had found Isaiah and brought him. Like a lamb to slaughter. If he turned out to be the wrong fit for this journey he probably wouldn't surivive it. He had felt a whisper of guilt as they had rushed him to pack, but because Astarion was new to empathy and had only stumbled into heroism by association the feeling came and went.

As he turned his head the soft smile on his lips could've made for a warm gesture, but his piercing crimson eyes clearly gave him away as the rogue he was. So far, he enjoyed Isaiah's company. The human seemed to have much interest in him and he liked the attention. And he hadn't asked the wrong questions, yet. “I am,” he answered simply. It was much deeper than that, of course. Baldur's Gate was his home, yes. But it had also been his prison cell and his hunting grounds. And he didn't even know what it had been before he was made vampire spawn. Most importantly, it was a destination now. One of many checks they had to fill on a list. He didn't want to think of it as more than that right now.

“We were on our way to Baldur's Gate when we were seperated,” images of his companions traveling together crossed his mind. He was the only one to have ended up alone. The arcane and divine talents of his “friends” (he caught himself thinking about them that way and bit the inside of his cheeks as if he had said it out loud) made it possible for them to communicate with each other magically. As the imagination of Karlach, Wyll and Shadowheart sitting by a fire, enjoying whatever alcohol they had scavanged along the road and Gale and Lae'zel discussing Githyanki culture in detail had passed his inner eye Isaiah's bright and curious eyes made it easy to focus again. Gone was the bitter thought. Looking at the blonde he got the impression that his answer probably wasn't enough and he didn't think he had to be tight lipped so he went into detail. “We fought this cult. Miserable people. The kind that has to make everybody else miserable, too, you know?” The vampire looked at him expecantly, because he got the impression that he had met at least one such a person, considering where he had taken him away from. “We had to get through this absolute nightmare of a village. All shadow and death. I don't mind the dark, but there were creatures hiding in every corner and if they didn't get you the shadows itself did.”

Astarion tried to think of a way to explain it best and of course, the first example that came to him was how he would've normally suffered under the sun. But he preferred to keep his undead nature to himself and used another metaphor: “Like reverse sunburn.”

It wasn't a very good one, but he shrugged and kept going. “So after getting through the shadows we got to the cult, murdered them all and fought one of their leaders. He's dead, but something happened that took me to the outskirts of Athkatla and the others to Candlekeep and Waterdeep,” he sighed melodramatically. “It would've been much nicer to end up in Waterdeep” As if he hadn't just revealed himself a murderer to Isaiah the elf smiled. There was real joy in his eyes, not quite the crazy kind. One with insightful eyes could've probably seen past all the smoke and mirrors and seen him for the starved and beaten animal he was. Just glad to be alive and see the sun again. He would've admitted to enjoying killing the cultists, but the true joy he felt because he got out again. “But here we are.”

Just a second later he closed some of the distance between them. His features darkened, the smile vanished, his eyebrows drawn together gently. “Do you think you could lead us if we step off The Way?” he asked. “I know we have to pass the mountains first, but I'd like to get out of sight.” Astarion had passed quick glances all around while he had told the animated story of how he ended up here. He couldn't know for sure, but he felt tailed. So close to the city The Coast Way was a hubbub of merchants and travelers and one cart had been behind them long enough for him to be suspicious of it. The vampire had enough reasons to be wary and didn't consider his discomfort to be paranoia once. Astarion quickly darted his eyes to the people he wanted his companion to be aware of, not turning his head, hoping Isaiah would follow his lead.

“You have some tricks up your sleeve, right?” It wasn't quite meant to be a question. The elf wanted to let Isaiah know that he had seen him and recognized him for what he was. Magically gifted. He didn't expect a miracle and he was optimistic that they could put their heads together and come up with something.