#Astarion x Half-drow!Reader

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Downed

A/N: I got the cut scene of Astarion imitating Halsin in the middle of drafting a drabble, and this is the result. Please enjoy. Tags: Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Half-drow!Reader, gender neutral reader, BG3, TDU!Reader, BG3 Astarion WARNINGS: hallucinations, canon-typical violence. Summary: You get hit by a fear spell while in the Underdark and hallucinate shadows in anticipation of fighting the Shadow Curse, Astarion is angry and it's all Halsin's fault. Apparently.

Word count: 1.6k+

(GIF Credit to @iplann)

All Astarion remembered was seeing you go down. 

It was an ambush by two rogue Duergar as you crept through the Underdark. Originally, the pair of you had been on an unimportant quest for you to retrieve some bioluminescent mushrooms to make lanterns; Astarion doesn’t understand the appeal but is also unable to say no to any of your requests. 

He regrets being a pushover at that moment, as it’s landed you both in this one.

After you fell, he had lunged across the field and sunk his teeth into the neck of the Duergar casting spells. He refuses to provide the sorcerer a painless death by draining, instead tearing at the flesh with his teeth. A sick gurgling echoes through the grassy hollow you’d been attacked in, and Astarion releases the dwarf. He stumbles for a moment, clutching at the missing area of flesh on his neck before falling face first into the grass. 

The other blue-skinned creature freezes at the realization they're fighting a vampire, and Astarion wastes exactly zero time thrusting a rapier directly into her heart.

The vampire instantly changes pace from attack to healing as he dashes towards you and leaves the bodies behind. You’re laid out a few metres away, curled into the fetal position and muttering nonsensical words into the humid air. A putrid green film coats your armor, and Astarion wrinkles his nose at the spell. 

“Tav, can you hear me?”

Your eyes find him, familiar but distant and darting about all over the cavern. Astarion recognizes the after effects of a Fear spell, and the Ray of Sickness’ grotesque slime. He was fairly certain the sorcerer had struck you with a bout of sickness while you were paralyzed by fear, hallucinating figures of great evil and unstoppable power. 

“...’starion?” 

“Fortunately for you, yes.” He quips, trying not to let his voice quiver. “If only I was a Cleric.”

Your eyes search his face, landing quickly on his mouth. Astarion freezes as you tense. “V-Vampire.”

His first instinct is to frown, concealing his fangs from your warped mental state. “All the better to keep you safe. Now come on, we need to make haste back to camp so our resident Cleric-”

You clutch at his collar, a wheeze escaping you. Your frenzied eyes have moved away from his fangs to something in the distance, apparently deciding he was less of a threat. “It’s coming. ‘Starion, please, please, get me out of here.”

Astarion recognizes the delusional panic lacing your voice and chooses to hush you softly instead of turning around. He’s determined not to feed the plague gnawing at your mind, and not to let it invade his. You’re the first thing that’s motivated him, loved him for two centuries and he is terrified to see you in such a state. Every other wound has been bandaged or healed shortly thereafter by Shadowheart, but this is different. He couldn’t cover this with gauze, and nothing in his repertoire includes healing of the mind. Rest and comfort will be the best cure for you. 

“It’s a spell, darling.” He coaxes you into looking back at him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

There’s no stopping the feral gleam in your gaze and Astarion knows you need to get somewhere safe to rest, to be rid of this ailment. He ignores the stink of your gear and scoops you into his arms, immediately angered by the tremors wracking your body. Your arms wrap tight around his statuesque neck and shoulders. 

“They’re everywhere.” You whimper into his collar, pointing towards the Duergar’s bodies. 

Curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s everywhere?” 

“The sh-shadows.” You manage, fingers swiping through half-dried blood on his face. “They’re coming.”

Astarion curses Halsin under his breath. The camp’s talks of making it through the Shadow-Cursed lands had been a hot topic as of late, brought to them by Halsin’s tales of suffocating darkness and misery. It was true you had to navigate through them, but Astarion had his own qualms with wasting their time trying to fix it in order to please the Druid. Especially since said Druid had been eyeing you up as if he were starving each time you saunter across camp.

“There’s too many of your glowing mushrooms here to be any threatening shadows, dear.”

Astarion trudges further into the hollow, finding a small secluded cove to one side. It’s as if the Gods were anticipating someone making a camp out of it - the small opening is no more than a metre wide, and damp lichen hangs in wisps from overhead. Fungi of numerous colors and brightness glow around you both, and there’s a moment of worry that they've stumbled into a transportation circle. The last thing he needs is to be unwittingly thrust to the surface in the Hag’s putrid swamp or a Gnoll’s den. A few fleeting taps with his toes stir no magic in the foliage, and Astarion feels comfortable enough to set you down.

He digs through both your backpacks for supplies, coming up with two bedrolls and enough wood to stack for a half-ass campfire. It takes only a couple minutes  to get your outer layer of clothes off and your body settled on a bedroll before Astarion moves onto the fire. 

Dancing flames have your rapt attention when they spring up from the wood. “No shadows.”

The child-like tone you carry in your confusion tugs at Astarion’s dead heart. “Correct, my sweet. No shadows here. Just a vampire and a very, very confused monk.”

You seem to settle in between bouts of coughing. Astarion sheds his armor to lessen the smell of sickness and looks through his pack once again, coming up empty for any elixir to remedy your fear. He instead stands to peek out of your makeshift camp, confident that as you settle your condition may improve. 

“N-No!” You burst out into a fit as the vampire moves away, one hand clutching his boot. “You can’t leave me here.”

Any intention of looking out is forgotten as you begin to cry. Astarion hushes you like a scared animal, pulling the bed rolls together and joining you on the floor. He indulges you in a rare moment of gentility, pulling you into his side and whispering into your hair. These moments back at camp are rare, saved for when your mates are asleep or out of sight. 

It isn’t until you pull away from the crook of his neck that he notices your eyes are sharper, no longer darting about or hazed over with artificial fear. Despite this, tears still leak from them. 

“Tav? Are you all right?”

You sniff softly. “I’m so tired, Astarion. And I feel terrified… like something’s watching me. But something in me knows it’s not real.”

He nods, tongue running along his fangs. “Damned sorcerer that ambushed us struck you with a Fear spell.”

“I had a dream that we were near Moonrise Towers.” You flounder for a moment, “There were shadows everywhere.” 

“Not a dream, I’m afraid. More a hallucination than anything.” Astarion explains, “A real drag to bring along after the fight, you were.”

His teasing is welcome, chasing away the worst tendrils of darkness licking at your mind. “Cheeky… But I’ve never taken the blow from a Fear spell before. This is awful.”

Astarion can tell your mind is still fearful despite breaking through the confusion, parasite reaching out to his in flashes of white hot panic and terror. Your heart is racing, the ever-so-tempting vein in your neck throbbing in sync. It’s a juxtaposition against your determined face, trying so hard to remain strong. 

“Afraid so… I’ll be speaking with Halsin about his persistence in this shadow curse solution. No need for it to plague you like this. Especially seeing as we haven’t even trudged our way through the Underdark yet.” Astarion’s voice is sharp and surprisingly protective. 

“Astarion, I do feel obligated-”

“You should feel obligated to do nothing. You already play peacemaker for these morons, no need for them to dump all their hopes and dreams on you. Especially when your mind uses them to terrify you.”

A weak chuckle escapes you, and your fingers toy with the fabric of his undershirt. “I think the effects of the spell were to blame for my terror.”

“The effects of the spell are determined by the worries in your mind. In other words, the man of the forest can take them all elsewhere.”

You snort at his distaste towards Halsin, as it’s not the first time you’ve noticed. 

A particularly loud drip of water somewhere in the hollow causes you to jolt into Astarion, adrenaline still coursing like fire through your body. “Gods. How long am I going to feel like a mouse?”

Astarion grips you a little tighter, “Until you rest, most likely.”

“Are you going to meditate?” You ask, curling into his side. 

“I’ll be keeping watch. You need to sleep. Heal your mind from this wretched curse.” Astarion’s words are a little too aggressive, his own nervous mind still concerned for your wellbeing above all else. 

You’re familiar with the tone, and can only smile softly at the vampire’s inability to express concern without placing blame. Perhaps all this talk of a Shadow Curse had caused you to be plagued by such figures in the depths of the spell, but you don’t place blame on Halsin. 

Though, you were certain Astarion would never see it that way. 

He’s taken a moment to relax now, laying on his back with an arm behind his head. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked over his. Astarion’s other hand traces patterns onto yours, lazy circles that lull your mind into a quiet sense of security. The terror subsides ever so slowly, intensity halved while lying in his arms. 

“Astarion?”

“Hm?” 

“I’m okay, you know.”

A huff answers, and a brief rush of words. “I’m still blaming the Druid.”

“Of course you are.”

_______________________________________

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[avitute]

vampire king!astarion x reader labyrinth AU when

when i say vampire king i don’t mean full on abusive like in the game. just normal astarion with a hint of evil

[feyascorner]

wish you would look at me

summary. convinced that you’re in love with another, when you approach him with a serious expression, he readies himself for the inevitable—rejection. but is it ever that simple?

pairing. astarion x GN!reader

warnings. light angst, fluff

a/n. this is inspired by the ppl who have love triangles w gale and astarion in act 2 and what he says if you pick him bec when I saw that I almost cried pls let him be happy

If you asked him a few weeks ago, he’d laugh at the mere suggestion that he could ever be jealous of someone like Gale. That blasted wizard couldn't go four steps before begging for a magical shoe or pathetically limping his way behind the rest of the group while you frantically searched for the said shoe. And when he found out the wizard was a few errors away from exploding, somehow Astarion felt even more pity (not really) for the lad.

Yet here he was.

He’s not sure when the hell you and Gale had gotten so chummy, but it rubbed him the wrong way. Even if his expression would never show it. He sips at his wine while Karlach and Wyll continue to chat about God knows what, too busy peering from the corner of his eyes as you lean into Gale’s shoulders to look closer at the book he was holding.

Perhaps the tadpole had finally made you lose your mind. He'd almost dropped his goblet when you denied his invitation to his tent tonight, spouting the excuse that you'd asked Gale to help you with something, and now this?

God knows why you ever found the wizard charming. If Gale could do something, he could too—much better, in fact. He was sure of it.

His grip tightens around the goblet when he hears you laugh.

Sure, his original intentions for approaching you had been less than noble…and he might have seduced you for more selfish reasons than you originally knew, but as much as he hated himself for it, he'd grown rather fond of you. In his own way, of course.

He’d only realized that the anxious squirming in his stomach was not of fear but of affection when you'd defended him from that vile drow at Moonrise Towers. He'd half expected you to ask him to throw himself at her, yet you stood your ground, showing nothing but respect to his own boundaries while you failed to realize that he'd deceived your own.

He truly had no reason to feel this way. He was selfish, he knew, for feeling so possessive because not once had the two of you established being exclusive. Though you'd respected him, you saw him for just that. A friend to respect, and nothing more. Sure, you'd spent a few nights together, but it was a mindless night of passion and he knew he'd continue to be your fling until you found another to truly love. He had just hoped it wouldn't be someone like Gale, of all people…or Wyll…or Shadowheart…or anyone for that matter.

He shakes his head. The wine must be getting to him. Serious relationships aren't a luxury he can afford, he reminds himself, relaxing his shoulders. He’s perfectly okay with being your ally—nothing more or nothing less. Ecstatic, even.

But when Gale flips a page of the book and both of you lean closer again—this time dangerously close—he feels a sharp pain shoot up his hand.

“Uh, Fangs, you alright there?” Karlach stares at the cracked glass in his hand and even he blinks at it in disbelief.

Apparently not.

He sighs irritably, dumping the glass elsewhere. “I’m quite alright. Seems I just need a nice comfortable mattress than a thin bedroll on the ground, but it’ll do for now.”

“Need help patching that up? You're bleeding.”

He almost laughs, if it weren't for the giggle coming from your direction. “Blood’s my specialty, darling, remember?” Without another word, he paces into his tent, closing the flap behind him for the universe signal that screams ‘don’t bother me.’

So when half an hour later, when he no longer hears the crackle of the campfire, he sees your shadow emerge from the other side of his tent flap, he squints.

“Can I come in?” He fails to respond, and hears you shuffle. “Ah, are you asleep?”

At this, he can't help but snort. You instinctively peek inside, and he runs a hand through his hair, sighing in defeat. “If I'd been asleep just how would I answer that question?”

He motions you closer and you take it as a sign to step inside, careful to avoid stepping on any of his belongings before situating yourself in front of him. “It was rhetorical, obviously!”

“Of course,” he doesn't seem convinced, lips curling into a teasing grin. “Now tell me, what brings you to my palace this late at night? Surely not for a cuddle. I'd thought you declined my offer earlier?”

Usually, you'd smile, but instead you only look down at your clasped hands, seemingly in thought. “I needed to talk to you—without everyone else watching.”

The usual brightness to your tone is missing.

Oh, he thinks. You've come to end things with him.

“Ah,” is all he says. He can tell his smile hasn't dropped, but it doesn't feel that way. “I hear you've found a new lover. Perhaps you want to keep yourself for this one, true love? How romantic, darling.”

You frown at this, and he wonders if he’s done something wrong. But it does little to stop his defense mechanisms from springing into action, because he’s immediately slipping into his usual mask, grin stretching wider but never reaching his eyes.

He hates the words coming out of his own mouth as if they taste of poison. Still, his voice is steady, almost teasing. Perks of the 200 years spent shamelessly lying, he supposes. “So, is this the end of our late night trysts? Even though they were an awful lot of fun?”

He doesn’t think he could stand watching you with that damned wizard. He doesn't even want to think about it quite frankly, because all he feels is his chest tighten when he imagines someone else holding you the way he does. And gods, if had to watch Gale’s poor attempt at flirting one more time…

But then again, you'd be with someone who doesn't manipulate you. Someone who doesn't toy with your feelings, or someone who doesn't seduce you for protection.

His smile twitches, and he just braces himself for your response.

“I’d rather be with you.”

He stares at you, eyes wider than its ever been since he'd gotten this damn worm in his brain.

“What? Why?” he blurts, embarrassingly so, before he composes himself again and clears his throat. “I mean, well, I know why—but I thought you'd had something more…with Gale.”

As much as he despises the idea, he'd seen the way you'd laughed with him. And while it was a new experience for him to be fond of another person, he'd found that these feelings had led him to rather you be happy than dragging you down with him. If it meant you wouldn't regret your choice, he’d been willing to deal with it.

So why?

“I want something real with you, Astarion,” you say softly, eyes meeting his. “I don't know if you feel the same way, but Gale and I are better off as friends, and I told him before I came here. And besides, it’d be cruel of me to lead him on while my heart is with another.”

He thinks he might have died again just now. For the first time in decades, he’s actually at a loss for words. “I—if that's what you truly want—we can try. Be lovers, I mean.”

You finally smile at his words, and Gods above if that doesn't lift the excruciating weight of the past few weeks off his shoulders. He feels the warmth of your lips when you lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek, everything happening so fast that his mind is spinning. He snaps back into focus when you pull back.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

You could have—should have, done it earlier. With a smile of his own, he leads you back to him, this time planting a soft kiss on your lips. It’s short, and not nearly enough, but it’ll do for tonight.

“Well then, consider yourself wholeheartedly taken then, my dear.”

[yangcherie]

i am obsessed with your writing. really. i would love to read your view on a shadowheart trying to win your heart when she realizes that the other companions also want you. be as fluff or smut as you want! (and of course you don't need to write anything you don't want, really, no pressure) 💕🩷

one step ahead

pairing: shadowheart, background cast x gender-neutral!tav (reader.)

content warnings: alcoholic consumption, lightest bit of suggestive. reverse comfort. religious trauma (shar.), pre-selune shart.

author’s note: i don’t quite know. this is the first time i wrote wothout being high so ahm. this might suck. Uh. so sorry, dear... begging the nines for this to flop. praying hands emoji.

Before discovering:

You’re a darling thing – considerate, easy to like.

Shadowheart vies for your heart, confident she’s the only one. The party is big and Farûn even bigger, surely, they will not take this one thing away from her? She doesn’t take it seriously at first, the way they touch you, look at you, speak of you. No, she ignores it, continues to court you with soft flowers and fold and prayers of blessings upon you. You’re a priority to her, first and foremost. The only thing she has besides Shar’s teachings.

You like her. The way she feels about you is nothing if not refreshing, rid of lust. So you laugh with her, thank her so prettily for her gifts. She’s confident.

After discovering:

It comes to her late at night. She is not the only one who gives you flowers and gold and prayers, it seems. What meager she has to offer the others are extravagant with. She begrudgingly stumbles upon the possibility that you might’ve served more as a distraction than a lover, you’ve been challenging her faith and focus.

Have you swayed her? The same way you have seemingly swayed the other ones in the party?

If there’s one thing Shadowheart has discovered about herself, it’s that she does not like to share. But you are not hers. And is then she begins to descend into thoughts she does not like, about how it would feel to stake a claim over you.

You become more of a trial to overcome, something to have a crisis over.

Shadowheart purses her lips, sulking by the fire. She’s alone, thankfully – but the night is not peaceful for her, as it may be for the others slumbering around. The wind bites at her legs and something akin to heartbreak and envy chews at her heart as she stares at your tent. An abandoned, emptied bottle of putrid wine lay on its side near her.

It should be alarming, how quickly she’s taken to a different sort of nightly activity; chasing away her thoughts of you with wine and whisky instead of praying. She’s half-convinced you’re a hidden disciple of Lady Shar, with the way you invoke loss so easily in her. You must be a test of faith – one she is losing.

If she is bound to lose, she will not go down without tooth and nail. She’s opted for trying to sweep you off your feet, bouquets of orchids, opening her heart to you. Unfortunately, for every endeavor, you’ve tugged an endearing smile at. You’ve sung her praises on how darling of a friend she was – and she had been laughed at, patted on the back with sympathy by those in the party.

She wonders if you’ve even paid mind to how her advances have faltered. How she had herself distanced from you.

Shadowheart huffs, petty. Your heart has been something hotly-contested amongst the camp – for fuck’s sake, amongst everyone you cross, from drows and tieflings to cambions and lords alike. She knows it, she sees how those in the party - especially that damned vampire, drink in your bodice. The lilted curve of your smile. The bob of your throat. She sees how they could just maim one another for a chance at you, and she cannot blame them for their hunger – but it does not soothe her misery.

The idiots make it a competition of sorts; how far they could skirt around their affections without being caught — but Astarion seems to be winning. It is no secret to everyone, of the trysts you share with the vampire. It haunts her; how in the absence of light, he leans over you, pins you to the ground and sinks his teeth into the soft, welcoming flesh of your florid neck. He licks and savors the sanguine off of your skin whilst you whimper in pain beneath him.

During those nights, she cannot help but stay up, even long after the vampire has sauntered off, leaving you bloodless, limping. She strains her ears to listen to you breathe stiltedly. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to eat you up, whisper pretty things to you even as you push against her and whimper.

(During those nights, it is where she cannot help but truly resonate with Lady Shar’s teachings. Embittered, speared with loss with the fact you have plenty of beds to warm, hearts to hold – but none are hers.)

In the morning, she alone fusses and casts a light heal over you, brushing over your wounded neck, ignoring how Astarion will make an innuedo of your taste to irritate his fellow, seething companions. She will ignore how you flush.

Shadowheart is not blind – even the most foolish of fools could see she is not the only one to vie for your heart. She kicks around in the dirt, disgruntled, raking a hand through her otherwise pristine hair. You are a ridiculous conundrum, an enigma that puts her faith, her control at a losing trial — a groan is forced out of her. She would kill to have anything else on her mind but you, you, you, you, who has swarmed and consumed much of her waking thoughts.

Damn you. Damn you for all you are. You must be a cambion amongst the likes of Haarlep with the way you’ve ensnared her.

Before the cleric can run off with gritted teeth, however, a weight is settled on her shoulder from behind. Mortification is quick to take over her, a chill like winter in Icewind Dale, or worse, High Ice, crawling on her spine.

“Hey, you.” Your voice softly greets her. You do not wait for her answer, she figures when you decide to sit down on the log and huddle up to her as a comforting anchor, unaware to the flushed grimace on her face.

It is a brief thought that passes; what if the Nightsong Lady was watching her right at this moment? How will she ever explain this in her prayers? Should she beg that the Lady spare you? She gapes like a dehydrated fish on land when you burrow yourself further to her side and meet eyes with her.

You do not know you look how ambrosian you are at this moment. You are warm. You are soft and you are alone. Right in front of her, nestling into her, even – unknowing that she is on the prepice of some circle of hell, one riddled with indecision. Should she swoop you off your feet, profess her affections to you and press her mouth to yours until you’re stupid enough to let her bed you for the night?

Or should she gather you in her jaws and bite voraciously hard enough that you will turn limp? Spare you from what is her maw? The pit of her want she could condemn you to?

(But hers must be more merciful than the rest’s, surely? Would you prefer it to be her that destroys you?)

She is now convinced, you are the greatest trial of forbearance and endurance Shar has thrown her way.

“Shadowheart?” You murmur worriedly, a few seconds later to her silence, the fire casting a sultry, welcoming flush over you. She watches as you reach a hand up to your own face; undoubtedly thinking, why is she staring at you like you’ve burnt down the entirety of Faerûn? Shadowheart swallows, jittery; she cannot bear to tear herself away from your embrace.

“Why... why have you come here? To me?” It is all she manages to wrench out of her dry throat. Her waist trembles when you wrap an arm around it. She wishes to ask more; what are we? What am i to you? What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to me—?

“You looked lonely, was all.” You yawned, something ladened with slumber. She could not fathom the thought that this, whatever you were doing, could be casual to you. Was it an everyday occurence for you to ensconcing with whoever you deemed warm enough? “You could do with some company.”

Company? Does she deserve it? You could be with Karlach or Halsin, right now. Their arms were built to sweep you right off your feet. Or Astarion, surely? Was her company so special to you, you had refused your nightly tryst with him?

No, the rational part of her hisses. You’re thinking too highly of yourself; and what it says is true. She’s nothing more than some elf, one who cannot even string herself together.

It’s an uncomfortable silence – though it seems onesided, with how you flutter and cosy up to her despite how stiff she is. Somewhere in between, she feels a frown on your face pressed to her shoulder. She swallows, a prayer of repentance and a lash against her back is what she deserves. She’s a fool. There is no other but herself to fault if she was to fail the trial you pose.

“Shadowheart,” you mutter, more fiercely, another question on your mouth. She reveres the image of you, with your brows are wrinkled with worry for her. “Are you okay?”

But if the punishment is inevitable, she might as well just enjoy the buildup, right?

The cleric shakes her head, the witty response she has wilting when the instantaneous tightening of your arms around her fills her with the most innocent surge of need she’s ever felt – and her body wraps its arms around you before her mind has a say on it.

“Y-You torment me, you know?” She says, breathy, unnerved. The way you look at her and search her eyes for anything that could give her away has her breathless, and she can’t quit decide if that’s a good thing. It feels dirty, almost as if you’re looking for sin in her. She has plenty to go around.

“Why?” You ask, pushing on.

“You confuse me.” Shadowheart shakes her head, allowing the warmth of your palm to slide on her face. She graces it with her own. Shar cannot be watching, damn her. “So much.”

She continues, clutching onto your fingers, “I cannot be with you, I cannot – but gods,” she chokes, lips quivering once. “you make it so hard to stay away.”

You flush at it, what she means. Shadowheart follows. She wonders if you can hear it, the thrum of her heart, a testament of her sin, her unforgivable wrongdoings. She wonders if you know she’s starting to look at you as more of a salvation then a trial. You feel like it.

“Where is this coming from?” You ask, so gently, so reassured. You even tuck her hair behind her ears and it makes her flush with delight. “What makes you so sure you cannot be with me, hm?”

“Why me?” It clicks to you why she had asked that earlier. You frown, smoothing your thumb over the apple of her supple cheek. Her voice trembles. “You could have anyone you wanted, you know. Soldiers, or dukes. But you, you act like this towards me; and I���m just me.”

She does not say how afraid she feels that she could taint you with sin.

“And I like you for you.” You interject; and the butterflies in her stomach seem to triple, despite her eyes burning with exhaustion. “You are more than enough for me. You are wonderful to me.”

“You’re fine, we’re fine. I want to be with you.”

(She wonders if you mean for the rest of your life or this night only.)

Your words ring in her mind. She wonders if you want her to the same extent she does with you. But whatever — she’ll deal with it in the morning, the talk, the regret, the prayers, her reward and consequences. For now, she will let you soothe down the mess she’s made of her hair and hold her, entangle yourself to her as if to share warmth in place of the dying fire.

She could be enough for you, she could take care to not damage you with what she is. And she’s sure that she deserves this, snugly rocking in your arms, even for a night or two. And maybe you deserve a pretty flower again.

If she cannot have you, she can at the very least make sure you have her.

[hades-in-bloom]

The Bigger Person

Spawn!Astarion Ancunin x Redeemed Dark Urge!Reader

summary: after saving Baldur’s Gate, Astarion and his partner descend into the Underdark to take care of Cazador’s misdeeds. All seven thousands of them. Was it something the elf truly wanted to do with his freedom?

spoilers for Act 3/Pale Elf and Epilogue

warnings & contents: teethy fluff; established relationship; comfort, sass, and class; hints of existential crisis; the reader could be any gender; mentions of trauma; some hugs; assumed drow or half-drow background of the reader but could be any race

a/n: I am kinda terrified of writing for Astarion as I respect Larian’s work SO MUCH (so Larian, please forgive me, if I ever do this goofy dagger-happy love wrong). This blurb came out of nowhere as I was bored during my long ass flight. As always, proceed at your own risk. Minors DNI! Masterlist xoxo

soundtrack: miley cyrus — used to be young

***

You watched Astarion from afar as elf was basking in the azure light of a Sussur tree. His pale skin glowing, eyes half-lidded—one of, if not the most beautiful sight you’ve seen in your entire life. Radiance of a Sussur flower might have been the closest thing to the sunlight the vampire spawn had now, after the ever-protecting tadpole was gone.

It was barely a couple of weeks since the Netherbrain crushed into the Chionthar. The exhausting journey was finally over. Your thoughts for a moment went to Gale—how was he fairing now, taking into account his condition? And what any of you was supposed to do with your lives now, after saving the world?

You shook off your guessings by and by—only to notice that it was Astarion’s turn to stare at you. His smooth lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“My once murderous little love, what were you daydreaming of?” The man wondered as he stepped towards you, stretching out a hand for you to touch, inviting you to feel the soothing coldness of his forever-young skin. The elf tilted his head a bit, curiously; studying you.

“You seemed… far from here.” Although his tone was lighthearted, you could see concern in the wandering gaze of garnet eyes. After all these weeks traveling—and now living— together, you could read him quite well.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled before coming to your senses; a gentle, slightly teasing smile appearing on your face. “I was stalking you, actually. You fit quite well with the Underdark, you know.”

Astarion didn’t seem to object your observations.

Obviously.

“Well,” he gestured abstractly, pretending not to care, although he cared quite a bit. “You don’t say, my sweet. Although I'd assume that my features should look aesthetically pleasing in most of the attention worthy places.”

You couldn’t keep a straight face as you laughed, enjoying his lazy attempts to hide a proud smile.

“Behave, Astarion. There are kids in the close vicinity, after all.”

The man changed in the face and let out a soft groan. “Seven thousand of them,” he muttered with slight annoyance in his voice.

Despite grimaces Astarion made regularly, you could see him enjoying it—taking care of the murderous horde of vampire spawns to whom the elf showed mercy in the palace. He was their mentor, their leader now—a counterpart to what Cazador was, the monster that created them all. Now so much better than him.

“I blame you,” Astarion continued in the meantime, playfully pointing a finger in your direction. “That’s all your nasty influence. Be the bigger person, dear!..” he passionately—and painfully accurately—mimicked your tone of voice while saying the last piece. You, though, weren’t offended in the slightest. You liked him even more when he dared to show the silly side of his complex, wounded personality.

You felt his hand crawling around your waist as he huffed next to your ear shortly after. “Why should I be a bigger person, darling, when I can be happy and petty?”

You snorted. “I don’t think you’re holding back on pettiness, love.”

His smile stretched across the skin of your neck in a silent, although eloquent enough reply. None of you said a thing for quite a while, staying motionless close to each other with heads buried deep into your own thoughts.

“Thank you.” You blurted out eventually.

Astarion shifted, looking into your face with his eyebrow raised. He was visibly confused.

“Thank you for choosing this. Choosing them.” you continued as you met his gaze with yours. “Instead of your… freedom.” You struggled to find a better word for that.

Astarion didn’t seem to be convinced; didn’t seem to follow at first. “I’m free,” he replied gravely. “The bastard is dead.”

You shook your head slightly. “You could’ve been anywhere. Doing anything,” you retorted with care. “But you’re here instead.”

His facial features softened as he understood why you were saying what you were saying. There was a pinch of truth in your words—he spent some time thinking about it, too, after you’ve both descended into the Underdark and began building this fort; the safe harbor for Cazador’s cursed—as although perpetually hungry vampire spawns now, these people deserved to have a place to call home, no matter how dangerous or uncivilised per human standards it was.

You heard Astarion letting out a reluctant sigh as he came to terms with his own decision once more.

“This was the right thing to do.” The elf concluded at once.

Mild aversion to his own heroism that manifested itself in his whole appearance in that particular moment made you giggle suddenly.

“My, my. Who thought you'd be up for doing The Right Thing the first time we met.”

The elf gave you a friendly, tad fiendish stare as he rolled his eyes, and you scoffed as he spoke. “Not that you were a paragon of virtuousness back then either, being your daddy’s scion.” You made an unamused face that made him smile.

Astarion reassured you then with playful seriousness, letting his lips and teeth slide affectionately to your neck. “Don’t keep your hopes up, darling. Now my quota of the rightful deeds is fulfilled for the upcoming century.”

You smirked as you locked him into a hug, not believing a single word of what that man just said as you felt him hugging you back.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Chapter 4: After Encountering Araj

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, cw: Astarion's past, Feelings Realization

WC: 3k words, 4/18 chapters

Summary: Set in Act 2 after infiltrating Moonrise and meeting Araj, a retelling of the Act 2 romance with some extra dialogue. The canon-hug!

Ao3 | [Hug3][Hug5] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Your team is tired. It’s been several days of travel through the Cursed Shadowlands, and you, for one, can’t wait for this damned curse to be lifted. You’ve done all you can with Halsin’s help, all that’s left is to defeat Ketheric. The man’s demise can’t come swiftly enough, especially after you had the absolute honor of meeting him yesterday.

Infiltrating Moonrise Towers was surprisingly easy for your group. You simply said you belonged there and everyone seemed to trust you, all because of the worm that takes residence in your skull. It probably helped that it was a short visit: free some prisoners, meet Ketheric, scope out the location, run into a slew of its inhabitants and leave as soon as you get the information you need.

There were a few moments of awkwardness in your adventure. You told off a disgusting drow woman who made Astarion uncomfortable, a cat insulted you and your hunting, and a half-orc was utterly entranced by your lust filled thoughts of Astarion. And that was all in the span of a few hours.

It’s no wonder that today’s been a bit calmer for you all. Your team is on the outskirts of the towers, searching the remains of its previously bustling settlement. However, being out of the lion’s den doesn’t mean you feel any less tense today.

Astarion has been oddly distant since you left Moonrise yesterday. You can’t help but worry for him, knowing that he takes to sulking alone at times. Perhaps the tower was a reminder of bad memories? Maybe the reality of your situation was just too much right now.

Either way, you know that it’s you that needs to get to the bottom of it, as he keeps sneaking glances your way. Each time you catch him looking, his gaze darts away and his brow furrows as he stares at the ground. It might be comical if it didn’t instill a deep concern in you.

Honestly, you’d ask him what was wrong here and now if it weren’t for your companions, Shadowheart and Karlach. They have certainly noticed something amiss, Astarion is almost never without a quick quip, but they decide not to acknowledge it. Despite his occasional bravado, he’s a private person, and it wouldn’t do to corner him as a group.

And so, the rest of your day is spent in an awkward silence, somehow amplified by the eerie stillness surrounding you. You decide to search through the Mason’s Guild, hoping for a palette cleanser to help your team feel like themselves again. For one particular teammate to feel like himself again.

As you had hoped, it’s not difficult work. At one point Karlach even whines to you, “Soldier, I’m bored. Aren’t we going to see some action today?”

She, of course, gets her wish moments later when your group faces off against some Shadow Vestiges. 

“Please be more careful next time,” Shadowheart chides, healing a wound on Karlach’s arm after the battle. “The Lady of Sorrows can only do so much when you charge into a group like that.”

The tiefling laughs at that and flexes her arm a bit. “How else am I going to impress our leader?” She shoots you a wink and a smile, which you deftly deflect with a thumbs up.

“Consider me impressed, Karlach,” you call into the wide room with an echo. “I’m swooning!”

She comments something in approval, but you don’t catch it as you see Astarion slinking off into the dark recesses of the Mason’s Guild. You excuse yourself, humor leaving your voice as you follow him into the shadows.

You think you hear Astarion muttering to himself, swearing, and you follow the sound to him. When you finally find him, the vampire just looks at you, eyes dark and face torn. It’s been too much for you to bear all day, and you can’t help but snap at him now, “Do you need to talk?”

“Later,” he says, through gritted teeth. His eyes close and he softens his expression, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

You relent for now, but it’s only a short while later that you decide to call it an early day. “For no reason,” you say to Karlach, when she asks why. “We’ve just had a rough couple of days.”

Shadowheart, catching the way your eyes trail Astarion, places a hand on Karlach’s shoulder. “You need to rest that wound of yours, alright?”

Karlach visibly slumps, but says, “Alright. Goddess’s orders or something, I guess.”

Finally leaving the land surrounding Moonrise in your dust, you head back to camp. 

___

You head toward Astarion’s tent at the first opportunity. You’re resolved to get to the bottom of what might be bothering him. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than illithids or Cazador– in short, nothing that you can’t handle together. On the way, you try to convince yourself you would go to any lengths for all of your companions. Underneath it all, you know that you would go a bit further for this particular man. Leave it to me to link my happiness to the emotions of a vampire, you think to yourself, annoyed.

You shake the scowl off your face before turning the corner to Astarion’s tent. Once you approach, you find that he’s already standing there, waiting for you expectantly.

“I want to thank you,” he says, starting off the conversation once you’re close enough. He seems oddly unsure, either of how to approach the subject or of the very words coming out of his mouth.

Raising a single eyebrow at him, your worry takes a secondary role to the confusion his words cause. “You’re welcome?” you question, not sure what prompted such a sentence from his lips.

“For what you said, while I was in front of that vile drow,” he explains, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His voice begins heating up as he continues, “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered.”

You take a step towards him, your heart reacting to the pain in his words, to the anger on his face. Despite getting closer over the past several weeks, you still feel scared to console him, afraid he’ll take off like a skittish cat. You decide that this is enough for now, saying just his name, “Astarion…”

He doesn’t startle, only continues a bit calmer, “You could have asked me to do the same– to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned. But you didn’t.” He sounds in awe at the very idea, his red eyes wide. “And I’m grateful.”

Understanding fully dawns on you now, as you see the situation from his perspective. Leveling a serious look at him, you say earnestly, “I didn't want you to do something you don’t want to do. Actually, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.” You hope that your words ring as fiercely as you feel them.

“It’s a novel concept I admit. And a… a little intimidating.” His eyes are big, fear at war with a warmth at your words. “It would have been so easy to bite her. To just go along with what I was being told to do.” Astarion continues flippantly now, waving a hand as he speaks, “A moment of disgust to force myself through. And then I could have carried on, just like before.”

A transaction. He says it so casually, masking the pain that you know he feels. But you’re still a person, a person who might have been just another checkmark on his to-do list, another thing to force himself through. Despite yourself, you’re hurt. Afraid of the answer, but needing it all the same, you ask, “So why sleep with me? Did you think you’d get something from it?”

“Of course, I needed protection,” he laughs, and you can feel your heart pounding painfully against your chest in response. He remains casual though, so you temper your hurt, waiting for his full answer. “People don’t trust vampires– perhaps understandably– so I needed to get someone on my side. And seducing you was easy, frankly.”

You look at him skeptically, recalling that it was not, in fact, easy. “Huh, okay. We might be remembering that a bit differently.” But you motion for him to continue– as far as ‘thank yous’ go, this one has been distinctly gut-wrenching, and you hope that he’s reaching a point.

“So imagine how stupid I felt…” he says, eyes darting away nervously. Cautiously, Astarion returns his eyes to you– his face is open, bearing an expression more vulnerable than any you’ve seen from him. “When I started to genuinely feel something for you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, brain processing what he’s just said far too sluggishly. What, you think to yourself, did he say?

Reading the shock on your face, he continues to clarify, “Trust me, I was not happy about it. You were a complication I didn’t see coming. And yet…” His voice trails off, looking at you as if daring himself to be hopeful.

You already know your answer, what your heart feels. You’ve known for quite some time, resisting it all the while, thinking he could never feel the same way. But here you are now, his wide eyes and exposed heart waiting for you to say something– anything. Wracking your brain, you think of the skittish cat again. You don’t want to scare him or seem disingenuous, not now. You settle on a simple, achingly honest, “I care about you.”

“Really?” he asks, breathless in the moment, eyes wide in anticipation. The anxious optimism is written plainly on his face and your body moves, almost on instinct.

You’ve been so afraid to be tender before, worrying that he may not feel the same way or even believe you. Now though, you know this is the best way to show how you truly feel. To make him realize that you don’t see him as a body to take pleasure in or as someone who serves as a means to an end.

You close the distance between you, wrapping him in a full-body hug. 

He seems surprised at the sudden contact. Unlike any embrace you’ve had before, it’s not sexual, it’s not tentative. It’s simply full of all of the love you can muster.

After a second’s hesitation, you can feel him move to hug you back, his hands come to rest on your back softly. You squeeze him to yourself a bit tighter in response, and he leans into you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. You stand like that for a long moment, the camp around you long forgotten, the world, your problems, they might as well be in another plane of existence. The feel of his arms around you, the tickle of his hair on your skin, the warmth you’re sharing – it feels so utterly intimate. More than anything else you’ve done together thus far.

When the time comes, you’re reluctant to let go. You know it has to be you to break it though. With the way he’s leaning into you, the pressure of his body pressing into yours, Astarion may never break this hug. But let go you do, standing back a step to take in the man before you.

Awe colors his pale face, as if he can’t believe that this is really happening. He takes a second to blink at you before saying, “You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

You chuckle in response, shooting him a wry smile, “I think my feelings may only be a surprise to you, Astarion.” You have a sneaking suspicion that at least a few members of your merry crew are exchanging knowing looks at each other right now, watching this drama unfold from the comfort of their tents.

“Honestly,” he gives a shaky laugh. “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.”

He slowly holds out his hand to you, a cautious invitation. It’s a simple gesture, but you’re not certain you’ve ever just… held his hand before. It almost makes you timid. You push down the butterflies and place your hand in his, looking up to find his ruby eyes intensely focused on you. The affection in his eyes wash away all of your nerves, and the smile that comes to your face is beaming.

Reading your expression, Astarion gets a step closer. He places his second hand atop yours and says, “But I know that this... this is nice.”

Then he just smiles at you, eyes crinkling in pure, unfiltered joy, and it reaches to your core. It feels like sunshine after a storm, a light in the murky depths of the Shadowlands. You think you could live off of his smile alone.

Again, you stand together for a moment, drinking in the feelings that have surfaced, basking in this nervous little bliss you’ve built together. By the time you break apart, your hand has warmed his cool skin and you can hear the sounds of your companions continuing camp life around you.

You give an awkward cough, not sure what to do next. The relationship between you has changed, but you’re not sure how yet, or how you should approach it. Nothing your usual wit can’t handle, you suppose. “And here I was, worried all day that some new, undying horror was plaguing you.”

“Gods above, I wish,” he says dramatically. “But no, it was the far more difficult matter of my stupid heart versus my beautiful, pragmatic brain.”

“I’m sad I didn’t get to witness the epic battle,” you give him a disappointed face that does nothing at all to mask the glee you feel at imagining his thoughts firmly revolving around you all day.

Astarion gives you a reluctant smirk before saying, “You missed a bloodbath. Last night, I stared at the roof of my tent, just considering all of the ways you may reject me. Like some kind of pining prepubescent boy.” His face winces at the image. “I thought I may never feel like myself again.”

While amusing, you’re surprised he thought you would ever reject him. “I always thought you were the perceptive one. Did you really not notice how I felt?”

He gives a light laugh at your incredulity. “My love,” your heart thrills at the new pet name. “I make hearts race regularly– whether from fear or lust, who am I to say?” Astarion gives you a sidelong look before continuing in a slightly sullen tone, “Besides, you’ve always seemed incredibly close to Karlach, I didn’t want to presume.”

“Ah, yes. She tried,” you look a bit abashed, thinking back to the night she asked you for something more. “But… I wasn’t sure what we had. And I didn’t want to ruin it, no matter what it was.”

“Seems I should have trusted your good taste.” He looks proud, but somehow you’re certain that it’s not just pride in himself. “You are incredible.”

You feel almost overwhelmed at his praise. If this is what being in a relationship with him is like, you’re not certain your heart will be able to handle it. While you consider that thought, the question of your relationship begins burning a hole in you. “So,” you drawl, not certain how to broach the subject. You’re still incredibly careful about scaring him off, especially when the connection you’ve built is such a new, delicate thing. “What exactly are…  we?” You add on, “To you?” as a safeguard. He needs to know that he can formulate his own opinion and you won’t push the matter. 

He produces an anxious little sigh, “I don’t know. But isn’t it nice, not to know?”

The look you give him is likely more nervous than you intend. “I suppose.”

“Ugh, you’re not a victim, not a target, not just one night it’s better to forget. But then… whatever in the world could you be?” Astarion looks confused, desperate for an answer he’s not ready for.

You know it’s not your place to give it to him. And, to be honest, even this admission makes your heart feel full, comforted. “That’s okay,” you respond. “Let’s take our time, figure it out together?”

“I’d like that.” His small smile is genuine and his hand is back on yours, squeezing gently.

An involuntary yawn escapes you, the day’s exertions catching up to you as the conversation winds down. “Oh, sorry,” you cover your mouth with your free hand. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No need to worry, darling.” He lifts the hand he’s holding to his lips and leaves a cool, gentle kiss before continuing, “It’s late. Our feelings will still be there in the morning.” He shoots you an anxious glance before continuing, “I hope.”

You grin at him, all too happy to reassure him. This is new to you both, but especially to a vampire who hasn’t known a gentle embrace in centuries. “I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me that easily. I’m not a wound that can heal up overnight, you know.”

Astarion leans into you to say, “If you were, I think I’d simply never sleep again.”

Your heart races at his weird little compliment. And, while your body begs you for the sweet relief of sleep, your head and heart scream at you to stay awake, to while away the rest of the night next to him and relish in whatever it is that’s blossoming here.

He can sense your hesitation to leave and tugs on your hand gently. “I’m probably doing this all backwards, but would you like to sleep with me? Not,” he stresses quickly, “sex. Just… resting together, perhaps?”

“Yes, please,” you say, earnestly. “I’d love to know what was so fascinating about the ceiling of your tent.”

Your new paramour shoots you an annoyed look, but continues to pull you after him, leading you to his bedroll. His hand is warm from your touch and you silently swear to keep it that way.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Lethal Woman (GN! Reader x Astarion)- Chapter One

Hello! This is my first fanfiction in a very long time so please be kind (I'm fragile)! I have played DND before, but I will be taking a few creative liberties. With the Deathbringer class, the ceremony for creating a Deathbringer is vague so I have based the ceremony on the Grey Warden ceremony (with creative liberties) in DA:O. Also with the mine (in background) think Markarth from Skyrim (Cidhna Mine). This is an Astarion x Reader based on my ongoing mental story that I am obsessed with and finally had to do something about it. I hope you enjoy!

Title is inspired by the song Dove Cameron sings. The picture of Astarion is is by @aristenfromwarsaw on Tumblr. Nightmask and Astarion’s tattoo are off the internet, the picture of Rowan is from my PlayStation lol!

Chapter Two

General INFOOOOOO:

Astarion x Gender Neutral! Reader. 

  The sex of the character is female so if I ever become brave enough to write smut, the smut will be male/female sex. Otherwise, the character will be going by They/Them pronouns. I will do my best to be consistent with this as I have not written a gender neutral character before! 

Trigger Warnings: mentions of Death, mentions of blood, mentions of torture, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse (not a lot)

Name: Rowan (I don’t care for Tav so I chose another Gender Neutral name)

Race: Half Drow Elf, red eyes, black hair, draconic sorcerer parents

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Class: Rogue

Subclass:Night Mask Deathbringer

Background: You are a Night Mask Deathbringer hailing from the Underbelly of Westgate. You spent the first 5 years of your life living happily in a grove with your sorcerer mother and your mercenary father- until a group of Ravenger’s killed your father, lit your town on fire, and sold all the women and children to a mine outside of Westgate. You remained working in that mine in poor conditions with your mother until you were 9. Your mother hatched an escape plan, but she became ill and you had to escape on your own. You live on the streets scavenging for food and fighting off attackers until you are 13 years old. Dahlia, the leader of the Assassin’s in the Night Mask Guild was scavenging for someone to drink from when she came across you. Dahlia watches you- a scrappy, skinny, feeble little thing fight off three older boys as they attempt to steal your food and your tent. Dahlia intervenes when the boys manage to overthrow you- draining them completely and leaving them to die.. She offers you a warm bed and a promise that you will never be hungry. That you will become the scariest thing in the darkness. After devoting 5 years to the Night Masks, you were deemed appropriate to become an A class assassin by going through a painful rite to become a Deathbringer- not quite undead, but not entirely alive either. As a pseudo vampire, you have become a powerful assassin despite your general disdain for tasteless killing. The money is good, you have a roof over your head, and your belly is always full- who wouldn’t become a little morally flexible? While taking care of a contract in Baldur’s Gate, a strange ship comes flying towards you…...

Chapter 1: Rowan (you!)

   Your head is throbbing when the smell of fresh grass hits your nose. Jolting upright with a start, you wince and press your hands against your eyes- desperately trying to get the black spots to fade away. 

What in the hells happened?

 You rub your eyes and slowly blink your way back into focus. You smell the stench of burning and look around to try to identify the source. 

  You survey the landscape and find that you are in the woods next to a stream with a precarious light shining brightly behind a large rock. Turning your head again, you see dark smoke coming up from somewhere beyond the trees. 

Suddenly, the events of the last 24 hours begin to replay in your head.

   The Nautiloid. La’Zeal. Shadowheart. Oh gods they are going to kill each other if I don’t find them quickly.

    You had met the two women on the Nautiloid when that thing put a disgusting, worm in your head. In response to your contempt, the worm wiggles behind your eye to make it’s presence known. 

   Despite how well you had fought together, the other two women had made it very clear that they had no intention of “bonding in the name of womanhood” as Dahlia would say as she whipped you for insubordination. It was hardly bonding- unless you count thick leather and your bareskin. 

   Slowly you get to your feet and test out your balance. Solid. All is well and there isn’t a single scratch on you. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth. Patting yourself down, you find that your daggers are still intact and your two hidden blades are not broken. Testing them, you watch as they slide smoothly out of your wrist guards and follow the curve of your index fingers. You smirk.

      Excellent, now time to make sure the glowing rock won’t kill me.

     You creep along the forest floor, barely making a peep as you approach the rock. You hear the sound of a woman groaning. You reach for your daggers as you go around the rock, brandishing your weapons- only to see a Tiefling woman on GODS DAMN FIRE! 

       She offers you a tense smile.

 “That looks incredibly uncomfortable,” you say awkwardly. You wince at how scratchy your voice sounds. You were never really one for “friends” and preferred to rely on yourself. You were less likely to suffer from heartache and Dahlia had been less likely to beat you that way. She once found you and your crush, Tessa, making out in an alleyway. Tessa was a warlock in training at a local guild and you had quickly been consumed by your love for her at the age of 13.

“Becoming attached is a weakness. Falling in love is a weakness. You will do no such things girl. You are a divine monster in the making. You are not made for love, only death and servitude.”

Once you had been deemed a Deathbringer, she never tortured you again and you never attempted to get close to anyone out of fear that the beatings would start up again. You would obey and you would serve- that kept you safe. And Tessa? Well, Dahlia killed her.

 “Oh this?” the Tiefling says with a heavy breath, “I have never felt better.”

   The fire begins to settle around the Tiefling. She stares back at you with investigative eyes- your weapon already sheathed, your eyes giving away your weariness. 

   The Tieflings eyes glow with recognition, “Well fuck me! It’s you! From the Nautiloid. Pleaseeeee tell me I found you before those so called ‘Paladins’ of Tyr did.” 

 She looks at you with desperation and nerves. You pretend to think about it, trying to assess the Tiefling’s posture and disposition. She appears to be friendly and open like a puppy- not what you would expect from someone who was just literally on fire and is now looking at you like they are on the verge of a panic attack.

  You shrug, “Fortunately for you, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

 The Tieflings beams at you with a happiness you never thought was possible in your presence. 

“We really shouldn’t spend too much time here. These so called paladins-”

The Tiefling is interrupted by the worm screaming visions into your heads. You see her on the front lines of the Blood War- scorching rage erupting from her being, but a sense of melancholy underneath. The mantra I will be free chanting in your head. 

  You feel your own vision come screeching into your head as she dives into your brain. You try to resist and control what she sees to the best of your ability, but she sees it. The ceremony that turned you into what you are. The way your body felt when Orbhak drank your blood. The radiating pain in your muscles as you try to keep yourself alive- resisting the urge to scream while your muscles cramp. The way he allowed your blood to drip slowly into your mouth from his wrist- your body aching to survive.

  She feels the way your new found power bursts through you- painful and like ice, your body numb. Then nothing.

   “What in the hells was that!?” 

      She matches your weary eyes with curiosity. You shrug, “I think it’s the tadpole,” you pause to fling your arms around to paint the worm (?) when she looks at you with confusion,  “The- Mindflayer? put it in our heads.”

You say it with a finality that even shocks you. You have a tadpole. In your head!

She stares at you with wide, unblinking eyes before she curses out loud.

    After further conversation, she tells you that her name is Karlach and she asks you to assist her in killing the people after her. You decide to help her kill the supposed “Paladins of Tyr” in exchange for assistance in finding Shadowheart and La’Zeal. The sooner the unwanted visitor is dealt with, the sooner you can go back to solitude and safety. There is safety in numbers after all.

       ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

    You are setting up camp with Karlach as she vibrantly retells the day’s earlier events.

 “And your eyes!” She exclaims, looking at you in wonder, “A single change of color and you had that man PISSING himself in fear!”

     Karlach cackles as you give her a wide, appreciative smile. You never felt like your ability was something that others would find acceptable or in this case, admirable. The praise itself was uncomfortable, but your soul aches to bask in it- to feel something other than loathing. After the battle, Karlach had basically begged you to explain what you are and how you became so “magestic” as she put it. Despite your better instincts, you trust her and find that you actually enjoy her company. She takes your whole “not quite alive” thing very well.

Karlach is intelligent and quick. Her smile is infectious as she preached her love for being free from Avernus as they set up camp.

 You smile to yourself sadly, “I guess I haven’t ever actually used my vampiric stare on myself so I have no idea what you are talking about.”

   She stares at you and leans forward across the log, “Your eyes, they go from being bright like the earth to red like blood.”

 Ah. you thought, begrudgingly, my inner murderer is showing.

  Embarrassingly enough, you never looked so you didn’t know. You didn’t really care to look either- the hype wearing off after the first 6 months before you learned to use your stare.  5 and a half years later and you feel apathetic towards your condition. You often wonder if you could have been powerful without the whole “immortal, spooky semi-vampire thing”. 

    You push that thought aside as Karlach continues to highlight both of your best moments in combat. You chime in occasionally, finding your voice and your charisma deep within you- unaware of the individuals watching your camp.

[astarionslittlejuicebox]

The Promise of Eternity (Part 1)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: The reader helped Astarion ascend and became his spawn. After saving the world from the Elder brain and it’s destruction, the reader and Astarion set out to take on the world together. While he promised to never forget the gifts the reader has given him, Astarion has seemed to have changed his attitude towards the reader in the last century…. After someone breaks one of  Astarion’s rules, how will this affect the reader’s fate?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: potential for minor spoilers, suggestive themes, language, mentions of death, mentions of blood, abusive relationship, mention of slavery

Word Count: 1689

Imagine Series List

Side Notes: 

This imagine series takes place 200 years after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3.  Everything you read in here is a story from my mind outside of the original BG3 character Astarion.

In this imagine series, Astarion is a bit more unemotionally unavailable, and this series will follow the decisions and consequences of that change. This is not canonically accepted and it is just an idea I’ve had in my head! (I do believe Astarion might truly care for the reader after Ascension, but that is open to individual interpretation.)

In this series, TAV is mildly based off my first character I played in BG3; she is a drow and I will make references to her in her background and knowledge as well. I do apologize that it is not 100% your own imagine, but the name for TAV is up to you as well as anything else that I can think of leaving to you, the reader, to decide.

I appreciate everyone who reads the imagines and this series, and I hope you enjoy the story!

TAV POV

As I watched the sunrise peeking over the horizon of the vast emerald green ocean in front of me, I was in awe of the beauty of the sun’s rays reflecting into my sensitive ruby eyes. The saltiness of the air reached my nostrils, and greeted my senses with a sense of wonder as I closed my eyes and basked in the warmth of the sunlight on my face. 

I believe I can bestow some of my blessings onto you. Astarion’s words echoed in my head as the rays fell upon my ash-blue skin. It had been over two hundred years since I had made the decision to stay by the pale elf’s side for all of eternity, and I remained eternally grateful for the opportunity to still experience the sunrise in all of its beauty. My attention was taken away from the moment of luxury by the sound of the balcony doors opening. Cedric, a brown-eyed half-elf with ginger hair, rushed to greet me with a slight bow.

“Good morning, Mother. Father wishes to speak with you this morning.” Cedric was Astarion’s fourth spawn, who I had treated and raised just like the other two “children'' before him. I despised referring to the spawn as “spawn” when they were far more like children to me, and Astarion had agreed.

I shall cast a fog over the world for my children. Another promise of the pale elf echoed in my ears, but I turned my attention back to the vampire child in front of me.

“I shall seek his chambers once I have finished basking in the sun.” Cedric shook his head.

“I’m afraid the matter is urgent, Mother, and he requests your presence now.” I stifled a sigh as I nodded. 

“Very well. I shall head there now. Thank you, Cedric.” The red-headed half-elf bowed to his Mother then turned and walked away to start his morning duties. As the spawn disappeared from eyesight, I sighed heavily. What could he possibly want to discuss after a century of ignorance?

The ruby red gown I wore ruffled slightly in the early autumn breeze as I took one last peek at the gorgeous ocean in front of me before I made my way inside the stone white mansion I shared with the pale elf himself, and all of our spawn and servants. My heels reverberated in the quiet halls and alerted everyone in the mansion of my presence. Each and every one of the spawn or servants that saw me, greeted me. Upon which I returned each greeting with a smile and a slight nod. Before long, I was standing in front of a pair of dark mahogany doors that were intricately carved with elaborate scrolls and floral patterns. Even though I needed not to breathe, I took a deep breath and placed a small smile upon my lips before I pushed the heavy doors open to reveal the grandiose bedroom lurking beyond them. 

A large bed dominated the center of the enormous room with its deep wooden frame. Deep reds and shiny gold accents gave the room a royal feeling. A large mahogany dresser dominated the far west wall while a similar colored vanity and chair rested against the eastern wall. Beyond the bed stood a wall of windows and a balcony with another gorgeous view of the ocean that surrounded the castle on three of the four sides. The double glass doors to the balcony were open to allow the early morning breeze to flow freely into the bedchamber, moving the heavy red curtains in the room. Standing on the balcony was a male elf with snow-white hair wearing a lavish maroon robe and delicately designed slippers on his feet. He too had been staring at the ocean and the sun that was steadily rising in the sky. The way the rays hit his skin made him look more handsome than other times, but I kept that opinion to myself as I took a step into the room. The noise of my heel on the wooden floor alerted the elf of my arrival as he spoke.

“Good. You arrived quickly.” Astarion’s deep voice held a slight grim tone as he turned to look at me. His crimson eyes danced with a hidden rage as he looked over my appearance. I knew better than anyone in this castle that he was pissed. I calmly shut the doors behind me before I approached him, but I maintained a safe distance should he feel the need to lash out.

“Yes, my Lord, Cedric said the matter was urgent, so I came as fast as I could.” The words left my lips as I deeply bowed to him. Looking up at him through my lashes, I could see his lip quiver ever-so-slightly upwards into a cocky smile before his face returned to being expressionless. 

“Yes, this matter is quite urgent indeed. You see, someone has robbed me.” As soon as the words left his mouth, my eyes widened in disbelief. “And I fear that it was someone in this castle that has done so.” 

“What was taken? I can—“  Astarion raised his hand, and my words fell silent. He wanted me to listen and not speak. A sense of dread would have sent goosebumps down my arms had I still been living, but I was grateful that my body could no longer give away my feelings.

“What I want to know is if you took it.” He said as he peered into my eyes. My eyebrows furrowed in response to his spoken words as I looked at him to see if he was joking. However, the somber expression on his face and the look in his eyes told me that he had meant every word he had spoken.

“I do not even have knowledge of what was taken, so how could you expect me to answer that, Astarion?” A coy smile fell upon his lips at the mention of his name, but he didn’t hesitate to lace venom in his next words.

“Oh, my dearest spawn, your master wants to know if you took a vial of my blood from me whilst I was meditating last night.” If there had been blood pumping through my veins, it would have drained from my face at this moment. “So, I ask again. Did you take it?” There was an eerie calmness to his voice. Had any of the other spawn been present for this conversation, they may have mistaken his demeanor for being oddly calm considering the dire situation. Fortunately for me, I could see the storm raging under the guise of calm. Astarion’s eyes danced with a raging fire at the violation of one of his most sacred rules: Do not take Master’s blood without consent.

“What?” I exclaimed with a vague note of rage lacing my next words. “You must’ve lost your mind if you think I, your most obedient spawn, would violate your rules in such a way.” The fire raged more behind his eyes. “I hadn’t done so without your permission for the last two centuries and I still wouldn’t. So, no, I did not take it.” A moment of heavy silence fell between us as the man with crimson red eyes studied me and digested the words I had spoken. I knew he was looking for signs of deception, but I held my ground. A slither  of my being was concerned about the way I had spoken to him. I had spoken so casually to him, even spoken his name, something I had not been able to do at all in the last century. After a few moments of scrutiny, the rage in his eyes towards me dissipated and a small smile graced his lips. If I was a living drow, I would have released the breath I had unknowingly been holding.

“Of course you would never disobey me. You have always been my most obedient spawn.” He smiled fondly at me for the briefest of seconds, and I felt something stir in my chest before he expression turned cold once again. “I need you to find whomever has disgraced me in such a manner, but I do not want the entire castle to know what has transpired. You must conduct your investigation in secrecy.” 

“What shall you have me do when I determine the culprit?” I asked as Astarion turned away from me to move towards the glass doors.

“Report back to me, and I shall decide their punishment.” Before I could reply or take comfort in a chance of talking to him, the doors behind us were shoved open as a blonde female tiefling with golden eyes waltzed into the room.

“Oh, Starion! Pookie-bear is here for her morning feeding.” Astarion turned around and gave the horned-woman a breathtaking smile as he opened his arms for her. My presence returned to nonexistent as she demanded all of his attention. 

“I’ll take my leave.” I spoke to deaf ears before turning to leave the sickening presence of the overly obnoxious tiefling. 

“Be sure to close the door as you leave, spawn.” The tiefling nasally spoke without turning to me as Astarion nuzzled into her neck. I resisted the urge to mutter anything under my breath as I closed the doors behind me. I looked around to make sure I was the only one in the hall before I sank to the floor against the door. Any sense of hope that things would return to how they were, left with the thud of the doors behind me. Another thought crept into my mind. Perhaps, there was still a chance of hope for me after all. Astarion had made it clear to me that no one was to know of the blood that was taken from him. That meant he truly believed in his most obedient spawn to do the task he needed done. How do you catch a blood thief? I took a moment to think about it before I stood up and set off down the hallway, heading towards the dining room and making haste to my bedchambers.

[mahoushojo-chan]

Astarion x Tav || dissociation

something i wanted to feel

warnings: dissociation, ptsd, trauma synopsis: disguised as a drow, tav finds astarion after he's reverted back to old, unhealthy ways of using his body. she brings him back. When Astarion hears her normal voice, he feels soothed. “You weren’t here, fully. I wanted to bring you back.” She explains, like it’s the simplest thing. “If I let you continue, it felt like I would lose you.” she continues. an excerpt of 'cause my love (is mine, all mine) word count: 1,001 pairing: astarion/tav other tags: f!reader, half-elf?tav, bard!tav, hurt/comfort, angst, non-sexual intimacy, friends to lovers, song inspo: sanctuary by joji ao3: here concept: dissociation and grounding techniques

The elf—half elf, maybe, based off the point of their ear? They grab Astarion’s wrist to stop him, and pull him away. “P-Put on your clothes, first.”

There's something off, like the pieces of the puzzle don't quite fit together. The man before him appears unnaturally flawless, almost like plastic rather than real flesh. Confused, Astarion takes a step back.

“Well, if that’s… what you wish.” Astarion replies and proceeds to redress himself. He's so bewildered by the situation that he foregoes any reverse strip-tease or other playful undressing antics; it completely escapes his thoughts. He simply puts his clothes back on, sliding his pants over his legs and fastening his belt. His shirt follows, and after it's on, he walks back over to the other person. Astarion supposes that this is okay. He hadn't exactly planned anything out, after all. Whether he’s naked or clothed while he does… whatever he’s going to do doesn’t matter to him at all.

"Now, where were we?" Astarion inquires, his hands gently cradling their artificial features, as he attempts to regain his focus.

However, they gently remove his hands from their face and clasp his hands in theirs, asking, "How does it feel?"

Astarion’s response is automatic. “Oh, it feels lovely. I’d love to see what other—”

“Ah-ah,” they tut, “tell me about my hands. How do they feel?”

Astarion takes a second. A hint of confusion prods at his mind for a second before he understands that he’s supposed to actually be using his body to relay these sensations. He looks down, and the discrepancy between how they look and feel strikes him again. “Well, they’re soft, of course. They’re… thin, and graceful…” he says, all compliments that he expects they would want to hear. But then his hand runs over their ring finger, and he blinks, because he feels a callous that he doesn’t see. Then, he begins to realize who he’s with. “There’s always a callous that never quite heals, here… and then the scar, and… well, you have a hangnail here. Your nails have grown out, Tav.”

He grins, finally thinking he’s realized their ruse. When he looks up, he sees Tav give a tired smile, though she’s still in her disguise.

Instead of ending it there, she continues with a pleased hum, “Are my hands warm?”

“Yes, always. A little warmer today, but—what are you doing?” Astarion interjects, confused.

She never answers him properly at times like these. Instead, she asks him, “Do I smell bad?”

Astarion takes some time to mull it over before he shakes his head. “No… no, you rarely do. Well, my tastes deviate from others, and I take quite a delight when you’re covered in blood, of course, but—”

“What do I smell like?”

He takes in a breath of air, and then deeply exhales. Her scent is familiar, now. “Like… well, something floral, usually. A little like parchment, maybe the slightest of resin…”

She dispels the disguise. Even though it's just the two of them, it seems a bit reckless, considering he’s not sure how they'll escape. However, Tav usually thinks ahead more than he does, and Astarion doesn't have the time to dwell on it as she continues her line of questioning, “And do I look okay?”

Now that he sees her for her, his gaze drops into something more affectionate. “Your hair never sits quite right, here.” He says, teasing the rebellious tuft of hair on her head before flattening it. “There. Now you look perfect.”

He lingers a little when she finally lets go of his hands. He feels a little disappointed, but she self-consciously helps to flatten her hair. Astarion takes the opportunity to finally ask, “Care to tell me what all that was about?”

When he hears her normal voice, he feels soothed. “You weren’t here, fully. I wanted to bring you back.” She explains, like it’s the simplest thing. “If I let you continue, it felt like I would lose you. My only regret is not coming sooner…” she continues.

Astarion blinks in surprise. He realizes he hadn’t particularly been in pain, and part of him still feels like he wants to get lost in his own head, but Tav’s soft explanation—though he’s not quite listening to it so much as he is just relaxing into the comforting cadence of her voice—keeps pulling him back out of it.

The almost liberating numbness is inexplicably nudged to the side by his desire to feel her again.

Then it dawns on him, the gravity of his recent actions—how he had behaved when he was still feeling like a puppet on strings. He remembers pinning her against the wall, pressing his lips to hers, and he stammers, "Oh—I'm sorry for... I mean, I didn't mean to—"

"It was never going to happen," she states, and Astarion experiences a brief pang, a sting in a vulnerable spot, just for a moment. It's as though she's saying, I'm never going to sleep with you, but that’s what he wants, isn’t it? He wants not to sleep with her. He wants something beyond mere physical intimacy, and he has that with Tav.

Seeing his confusion, she snaps him out of his reverie and tells him, “It didn’t mean anything.”

This, in a way, makes the feeling worse because Astarion interprets it as ‘forget it ever happened’. But given that he’s still rather embarrassed about the whole ordeal—the inability to recognize her, his behaviour—he’s actually okay with complying.

So he takes her hands this time and rests his forehead against hers. She feels as warm as he remembers.

Finally, he responds. “Thank you.”

She seems to let him rest for a moment, and he sees her whisper a word of healing. He feels some of the earlier bruises and gashes heal themselves, and it’s not perfect, but he feels significantly better. At that time, he finally separates from her. But then, now that he’s fully present, he sees her as she is—she seems tired, her features gaunt, but she seems relieved.

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 19 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 3,707

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

Act II, Chapter 7 - The Gauntlet

Even after he confessed, you realized that Astarion was still, well, Astarion. His feelings, though out in the open, were still a confused mess. If you were to describe it visually, it was a tangled ball of string; most of the strands felt like fondness, while there were a few threads that hummed with anxiety intertwined with lust. As if he felt bad for wanting you in such a way.

Not going to unpack that for now. It’s all too tightly wound together. I’ll let him unravel a bit more before I broach that topic.

On your end, you believed your feelings were pretty straightforward. You cared for him. You enjoyed spending time with him. Just the skinship, touching him, being touched, and sensing that feeling of him enjoying your company, without any ulterior motives, was incredible for you.

You imagined that other couples after confessing their feelings would be flinging their clothes off and having intimate relations in a secluded corner of their own little world.

Instead, you and Astarion were sitting by the campfire, your right arm linked with his left, the two of you reading quietly together.

“Is… is this alright?” he asked tentatively.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Yes, this is perfect.”

He leaned his head against yours. “I feel the same.”

Through your skin contact, however, you felt a slight twinge of guilt from him. Shit, if I say something now, he’s going to start questioning why I always know how he feels…

So you let it go, and just snuggled against him as he continued to read his book.

You had borrowed one of his books just so you could sit like this and spend some quiet time with him. You had few books of your own and you had read through them all at least twice. The book you had borrowed was some kind of adventure novel that featured a drow ranger.

Astarion glanced over at the page you were on. “Oh, you’re coming up to a good part.”

“Hush!” you chided. “No spoilers.”

“You two are being awfully cuddly.”

You both turned around to see Karlach smirking triumphantly.

“You snuck past my alarm on purpose,” you said accusingly.

She grinned. “Of course I did. Otherwise I would have missed this,” she said, pointing at your linked arms.

You could feel Astarion trying to pull away, but you only linked your arms tighter. “So? What of it?”

“Just glad to see you two finally out in the open,” Karlach said. Leaning in, she whispered to the two of you, though it was loud enough for others to hear, “Unlike another couple I know.”

You snorted, and Astarion grinned knowingly.

Looking past Karlach to see the others coming closer, you realized that you probably should do your job. “Alright, guess I’d better get food started.”

***

You were most certainly feeling better. After spending half the day quietly with Astarion, you felt like the pool of magic within you had almost refilled to full. You happily sang the tent cantrips while your rice porridge with herbs and dried mushrooms bubbled in the stew pot.

During the meal, your companions told you about their adventures, about how they met Balthazar, about how they discovered and solved three puzzle rooms, and about how tomorrow they would explore the rest of the lower levels.

“We’ll probably run into the devil down there,” Wyll mused. “We hadn’t seen any signs of it yet.”

“So perhaps all of you should go,” you said. At their shocked looks, you waved off their concern. “My magic has come back, and nothing came by today, not even a rat. Besides, Scratch and Owly can help defend the camp if anything happens.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about what you lot will run into down in the lower levels, given what you’ve told me.”

Lae’zel nodded. “Then I will train you more tonight, so that we may leave you tomorrow without concern.”

Oh boy. I’m going to be sore tonight.

***

You barely had the energy to change into your sleeping clothes. Falling into your bedroll, exhausted from Lae’zel’s training, you closed your eyes and groaned from your sore muscles. My gods. I cannot wait to fall asleep.

The soft footsteps of a certain elf drew your attention. Looking up, you watched Astarion kneel down beside you. 

“Darling, you’re not thinking of staying out here, are you?”

“Too tired to think.”

He sighed dramatically. “But I confessed my heart and soul to you today. You will come to my tent, won’t you?”

Dragging yourself up, you grabbed your bedroll. “Haven’t had enough of my company?”

“Never, darling.”

You grinned as you walked with him to his tent. “Never say never,” you teased.

He held the tent flap open for you like a gentleman, ushering you inside. Laying your bedroll alongside his, you flopped down ungracefully. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Lae’zel put me through a thousand paces, so I need to rest.”

He chuckled as he lay beside you. “Did you sing?”

You blinked. “Oh. No, I forgot.”

“Hmm. Try it next time.”

“Alright. Sweet dreams, Astarion.”

He leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours. 

I’m going to get addicted to this warm fondness I’m feeling from him.

“Did you know that elves don’t usually dream?”

“Oh?”

“Dreams are… chaotic, uncontrollable. Memories are bad enough,” he murmured.

You touched his face, stroking his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You’ve only given me good memories so far. Well, except for when you got hurt.” He frowned. “So don’t do that again.”

You smiled. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He sighed. “Good enough, I suppose.” Reaching out for you, he pulled you close. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

You closed your eyes, and inhaled his unique scent, rosemary, bergamot, and a touch of brandy.

***

You awoke, cold and alone. Quickly getting up and changing, you saw that everyone was already getting their things together for the day’s exploration. Walking up to Astarion, you tapped his side with the back of your hand. 

“You didn’t wake me up?”

“You were sleeping so soundly, darling. I’m not a monster.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“Besides, Gale apparently wanted a chance to cook.”

“Shhh!” Gale hissed.

You glanced over at the stew pot. Seeing it mostly empty, you walked over and scraped what was left of the breakfast soup into a small bowl and sipped it. It was a delightful mix of spices and savory flavor, shreds of dried beef jerky mixed with some lentils and beans.

“This is amazing,” you muttered jealously. “Gale, give me the recipe when you come back!”

“What, and divulge my secrets?”

“Just do it,” Shadowheart said with a laugh, slapping him on the arm.

You chugged the rest of the soup and gathered all the dirty items for cleaning later. Just as everyone was ready to go, you headed to the entryway with them to wish them well. Astarion waited for everyone else to go past before he quickly pulled you in for a hug.

“Stay safe,” he murmured into your ear.

“You too,” you replied before the two of you pressed foreheads.

“We don’t have all day!” Karlach yelled gleefully.

Astarion just huffed and left with the rest of them, but not before giving you one last look.

You waved and smiled. Come back safe.

***

It was a long day and a half by yourself. You started counting the hours after you realized a full day had passed. You went up to Withers to check if they were all still alive, and he always nodded solemnly, with no other updates. So you just read books and cleaned and played with Scratch and Owly. You danced and practiced your cantrips for hours at a time. You slept in Astarion’s tent, rolling onto his bedroll and immersing yourself in his scent.

Am I being weird? It’s definitely weird. But… It makes me feel comfortable.

And they still had not returned. It was times like these where you wondered about the possibility of joining them on their adventures.

But then you remembered that you hated pain, and you had nowhere near enough battle experience to survive alongside them without being a hindrance.

Better to stay behind and tend camp. After all, if not me, then who will? Withers? Hah.

Wandering to the edge of the balcony overlooking the statue of Shar and seeing all the water below, you sang a song to coax a stream of water up to your level, filling up a few basins with water. Finding an empty barrel amongst the rubble, you plugged the holes with some clay and filled that up as well. But when you tried to move the barrel filled with water, it barely shifted.

You glared at it.

Move, damn you!

Your song became a chant, the tempo faster and stronger than you normally sang. 

The barrel hopped two feet closer.

Oh?

You continued to chant, almost like a war hymn as you led the barrel away from the edge of the balcony, but after a few hops, you felt drained.

Okay, we’re going to stop there.

You looked through the pile of loot that the companions had dropped off the previous night and found enough rags and scruffy clothes that you could fashion a sort of curtain, hung by some old spear handles that you formed into a three sided divider screen, with the backside open to the view of the balcony. There was space to stand next to the barrel and still be hidden from view.

Well, that’s good enough, I think.

You went back to your pack and grabbed your soap bar and one of the water basins. Singing a hot water rune into existence, you heated the water in the basin, took your clothes off, and scrubbed yourself clean. After rinsing yourself off, you heated the water in the barrel before awkwardly climbing inside.

Damn, I should have made a seat in here.

Instead, you squatted down and let the hot water cover your head. Closing your eyes, you let the heat relax your body for a good ten seconds before you came back up for air. Grabbing the basin and emptying the water out of it, you pushed it under you and sat on it precariously, slowly leaning back until you felt balanced.

You let out a sigh of relief. It worked. Now you had a nice hot bath in the privacy of a little makeshift divider screen, and the others could take some time to relax as well when they came back.

If they come back.

Shaking the dark thought from your mind, you submerged yourself again and held your breath for as long as you could. It was only for 25 seconds, but when you came back out, you could faintly hear the alarm bells on your belt, hung over the divider.

Is it them? Or is it something else…?

Your heart raced at the thought of being naked while intruders came upon your camp.

I don’t hear Owly or Scratch.

A few more moments passed as you listened to footsteps echoing in the cavern. Then you finally heard your name being called. 

Oh, thank goodness. “Over here!” you called out.

As you heard them walk over, you quickly realized that if they came around the screen, they’d see you naked. “Wait wait wait! Let me get my clothes on!” Quickly drying yourself with a towel for once and throwing your dress on, you came out to see them looking bloodied and exhausted.

“You look freshly washed,” Shadowheart said, the longing for a bath evident in her voice.

You grinned. “You can too, shortly. Come, come!” You showed everyone the bath set up, watching their expressions growing relieved that they could have a warm bath even in this darkened place.

“I’ll get food going,” you said as everyone else played rock-paper-scissors for who would go first in the bath.

You quickly threw together some cured meats and cheese together as an appetizer before putting some ingredients in the pot for a hearty stew, inspired by Gale’s meal yesterday morning. In a separate, smaller pot, you cooked some rice to go with it.

You tucked your wet hair behind your ears as you worked, and once you were done, you put your hands over your head and sang a quick drying cantrip that gently drew the water away without taking out too much moisture. If there was one thing you were a bit vain about, it was your hair, and you took good care of it.

The soft footsteps behind you seemed tentative, yet the cadence sounded familiar. He stopped directly behind you and gently grasped your shoulders.

“Welcome back, Astarion.”

He only hummed softly, one hand moving your hair to one side before dipping his head down to nuzzle your neck.

“You want supper now, or later?”

Astarion took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. “Later, darling, when we’re alone.”

Your body reacted instantly to his lowered tone, but you quickly tamped down on it. You knew he had felt your rush of blood when his grip on your shoulders tightened just a little bit.

You turned and looked up at him, but he only had a soft expression as he looked at you. Reaching out and cupping his face, you searched his emotions as he leaned into your touch. You could feel mostly contentment with a strand of anxiety weaved within.

He finally backed away from you. “Until tonight, then.”

Dammit. I wish I could help him with his anxiety.

During supper, everyone took turns describing the battle with the devil to you. It was a very hectic fight, and it sounded like everyone was pushed to their limits. But their teamwork and their communication had grown so much that they pulled through in the end and defeated him. 

“We even got Astarion to graciously say thank you,” Wyll joked.

Glancing over at him, you saw that he was looking a bit grumpy at being reminded about it. You snickered softly.

They continued to tell you about the rest of their adventure, and how they were feeling exhausted by the time they had finished exploring all of the rooms and gathering all of the orbs needed to activate the final elevator that would take them down to what they believed would be the final level of the Gauntlet.

“Tomorrow, we’ll end this,” Shadowheart said with determination. 

With supper completed, everyone broke off to relax and turn in for the night. Astarion turned to you. 

“I’ll go have a bath. See you in our tent, lover.”

Our? “Alright. Do you want me to make the water hotter for you?”

“Let’s go test it, shall we?”

Heading over to the bath with you, he dipped his hand into the water. “Seems adequate.”

You looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “But not perfect.”

“If you could…”

“Easy,” you said with confidence before singing a hotter water rune. Once it took hold, steam came out of the water. Turning around at the sound of shuffling clothing, you realized that Astarion was already stripping behind you.

“Astarion!” you gasped as you turned back around.

“You’ve seen all of me already, darling.”

That was only a glance, and it was in the middle of the inn. That doesn’t count. “Anyway I’m going back now byeeee,” you said in a rush as you nearly ran from him. His laughter followed you all the way back to the tent.

It was still a bit surreal to you, having your bedroll in his tent. You laid down and stared at the canopy, the red and gold fabric looking a bit dull in the dim light of your cantrip.

He won't mind if I do this, right? I wonder…

You sat up, put your hands up in the air, and sang.

Moonbeams and starlight,

Paint the sky above me,

Light up before my eyes,

A sparkly sight to see.

The fabric glittered for a moment then darkened, and pinpricks of light began to form in the darkness. You gestured with your hands purposely through the air as if you were weaving, and lights of different strengths and sizes, with different tints of color, populated the ‘sky’ you had created. You even created a full moon so that there was still enough light for you to see, but not too glaring.

Satisfied with your work, you lay back and stared up, feeling much less claustrophobic.

Astarion came in, shirtless and hair wet, with a seductive expression on his face, but then he looked up, and his expression changed to that of innocent wonder. To you, it was a much more attractive look on him. 

His eyes were round with amazement as he looked at the ceiling. “This is… beautiful.” He sat down next to you and smiled. “You completely distracted me from my plan.”

“And what plan was that?”

“Convince you to dry and brush my hair for me.”

You snickered. “You only need to ask, no need for a plan.”

He gave you a smarmy smirk. “But if you offered it freely, I wouldn’t need to ask.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and gestured for him to sit in front of you. Getting up onto your knees, you sang your hair drying cantrip slowly, since his hair was finer and more delicate than yours. Then you gently brushed his hair, first with your fingers, then with his brush.

“Gods, your touch feels so good,” he murmured.

That line, in another context, would have made your face heat up. Even now, you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Glad you feel relaxed,” you mumbled, trying to push down any naughty thoughts.

He turned and took the brush from your hand. Slowly he ran his fingers up your bare arms, his eyes gazing at your body.

“Astarion?” you whispered.

Moving closer, he cupped your cheek. “You promised me supper, didn’t you?”

You nodded and tipped your head, exposing your neck.

Astarion leaned forward and licked your pulse. “Such an enticing treat,” he purred before he sank his teeth into your neck. With one hand gripping the back of your head, the other snaked around your backside and pulled you close, his body lining up with yours. You could feel the hard lines of his chest against your soft bosom, his muscled thigh resting between your legs.

You gasped softly as your hips moved on their own, searching for friction against him. But somewhere along the way, you realized that you had stopped feeling his emotions. Even with his fangs deep in your neck, you only felt the sting of your own flesh.

“Astarion—”

He released you from his bite, languidly licking your wound before he pulled back to look at you. Letting go of your head, he grabbed your bottom with both hands and pulled you harder against him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and nibbled at your collarbone.

“Darling,” he rumbled against your skin, “does this feel good?” His hands traveled up and down your body, a slow, sensual exploration.

“Y-yes,” you gasped when one of his hands trailed up to gently caress your breast, a finger brushing against your sensitive nipple.

Then you looked at him. His eyes were on you, but something about his expression seemed as if he was realms away. You cupped his face with both hands.

You felt nothing.

It was like a bucket of cold water when you realized he had shut down. You put your hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. “I… I don’t think we’re ready for this.”

He looked hurt for a moment, and you could feel it through your touch. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He shook his head. “It’s alright. I should have asked first.”

It’s not me I’m worried about. “That wasn’t it. You seemed… not all here.”

He blinked. Then he looked away, but you caught the misery in his expression.

You slid off his thigh and took his hands in yours. You were hit so hard with a wall of revulsion that you had to hide your gasp, acting as if you were taking a deep breath. “Astarion?”

He turned back to you with a sad expression. “I can’t help but feel… tainted.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Not by you, darling. You… you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want”—he pointed back and forth between the two of you—“this, to be real.”

He sighed dolefully. “But after two centuries of playing the rake… I just don't know what real looks like. Any kind of intimacy was just something I performed, to lure victims back…to him.”

You squeezed his hands and kept silent, nodding for him to continue.

“I want to be with you. I truly do. But these feelings of disgust and loathing… They keep coming up. And I don’t know how else… to be intimate… with you.”

Gods, I didn’t realize it was that bad. You let go of his hands and pulled him into a hug, resting his head on your shoulder. You carded your fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head. “You take all the time you need to work through this,” you said softly. “Just let me hug you, and I’ll be happy.”

Slowly, his arms came around you and hugged you back. “This is enough for you?” he asked hesitantly.

“More than enough. We’ll take it one step at a time, at whatever pace you need.”

His body, which had felt tense in the beginning, steadily relaxed in your arms. The feelings of revulsion and guilt slowly faded, replaced by a sense of relief and…

Safety? I’ve felt this from him before, when I asked for a hug in the Underdark…

You hummed a lullaby as you led him down to the bedroll and held him close, running one hand through his soft hair while you gently rubbed his back with the other.

“Is this alright?” you asked.

He nodded and pressed his face further into the crook of your neck.

You continued to hum your song until you felt him fall into a trance.

“Sweet dreams,” you murmured, kissing his forehead.

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

Act II, Chapter 7 End notes: Some more soft and fluff, but soon, we’ll get out of Act 2. Only two more chapters to go before we start Act 3! And a bit of heads up, I'm going to be leaning more into that hurt/comfort tag in Act 3, so if you're squeamish about injuries (I am, so I won't be writing very descriptively, but painful things WILL be happening), just be warned now.

Tags List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

[captain039]

PART 2 His conquest

Spawn!Astarion x spawn!reader

Warnings: Angst, vampire things, hurt/comfort, swearing, dick head Cazador hate his ass xD, abuse, soulmates

Previous part <-

Brothers and sisters (7)

Petras - male human

Dalyria - female half drow

Karliel - female dwarf

Astarion - male high elf

Naza - female Teifling

You

Sarric - male wood elf

You had no freedom besides inside the castle, even then you were forbidden in certain areas. If you went somewhere you weren’t allowed to you’d end up beaten for your actions. You rarely left the room allocated to you and your so called six brothers and sisters. You were starved so you found out quickly, you didn’t get a proper meal in a week. Cazador would pick to join him for dinner and give you a dead rat, desperate and hungry you always ate it, needing some form of blood. You hated yourself, hated this thing you’d become, you barely got time to yourself, the bath was attached to the room with only a robe curtain covering it. The other spawns had more freedom than you, obviously from being here for years, he sometimes sent them out to find him more poor souls to put in that horrid dungeon. You didn’t sleep anymore no matter how exhausted you were, you didn’t know what it meant to be a vampire or what was included, not like there was some guide to being one. Thankfully tonight everyone had left or was elsewhere, you smelt horrible, too afraid to bathe with the others so close. You cursed the drapes that didn’t hit the floor as you closed them. You tugged off your clothes and glanced to the mirror which was there for some stupid reason, not like you could see yourself anymore. You opened the cupboard grabbing some hair oil and soap before running the bath. Your hand reached to your back flinching at the angry scars you felt. You pulled your hand away quickly hearing footsteps suddenly. You snatched a towel and wrapped it around you and stopped the water hoping they’d leave, you really needed this bath.

“Who’s in there?” You heard Astarions voice, but didn’t answer.

“I’m going to assume it’s you Y/n by your lack of acknowledgement” he scoffed shuffling in the room.

“I’m not going to come in there if that’s what you’re worried about, have a bath for gods sake” he said and you gulped shaking your head. You drained the water and heard the drape open. You jumped seeing Astarion there with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” He asked watching the water leave. You didn’t answer holding your towel tightly and gulping.

“You smell have a bath!” He grumbled walking in and starting the bath again. You stayed in the corner against the walls making sure he was as far as away you could manage.

“Terrified little pup” he muttered pouring some scented oil in the bath.

“I don’t bite” he commented and you glared.

“I do, I lied” he shrugged. He stopped the water and gestured to the bath.

“Get in” he said and you stared, he was joking?

“You won’t bathe yourself” he huffed going over to you, your whole body tensed and you dashed out the bathroom.

“Hells sake” you heard him say as you awkwardly grabbed some new clothes. You yelped though when you were suddenly lifted into arms.

“Honestly” he huffed as you stayed frozen.

“Put me down” you said voice scared and he frowned looking down at you. Your body trembled in his hold now and his stern face faltered.

“Alright” he said rather softly letting you back to your feet. You stepped away from him and sat in the closet bed legs too shaky.

“The water will get cold, at least use it” he said nodding and leaving the room. You felt small relief fill you, guilt filled you also and pain as you went back to the bath.

Astarion hadn’t felt right the moment he tasted your blood the sweet taste it left made him shudder. Cazador had been eyeing you for weeks and after learning your routine he finally sent himself out. You smelt delicious even from the alley way, when he sank his fangs in and felt the warm blood go through him he felt alive, aroused, so many feelings flooding through him. He felt your panic, fear and felt you slip into unconsciousness, he almost drank you dry if it weren’t for the leash he had around his neck. It wasn’t the usual seduce and take back, Cazador wanted you instantly, no seducing. He felt possessive of your body as he carried you back, Cazador smirking from ear to ear as he took your body away into the unknown room. He didn’t see you for weeks, he felt you though, felt the cold panic, could taste your fear, the realisation that you’d become something you didn’t know was real. His mind was constantly brought back to you and he hated it, you were no one, another spawn in Cazadors army. When he finally saw you he felt relief in his body, you were terrified, body obeying Cazadors every word and command. You hadn’t tasted blood, your hungered eyes staring at the cup in the masters hand. As they sat at the table he felt ridged, as did he’s ‘brothers and sisters’. You knelt by the master like some dog, a slap hit you harshly when you whined. He felt like he felt the slap himself, felt the rage inside him wanting to slice his masters neck more than usual. He couldn’t see you properly from the table, he made sure to keep his eyes on his glass that Cazador so graciously provided, it was fresh human blood, something was going to happen to you. When Cazador forced him to follow him to the carving room he felt his stomach drop, your panic never left neither did your fear. It spiked seeing the room and your survival instincts kicked in. You hit him like a rock, bringing you both to the ground as you snarled ready to rip his neck off. He ceased your hair like you had to him and held you back trying to calm you, Cazador would kill you now. You were torn off him and he felt his body shoot up watching you be laid down in the table. He was ordered to tighten the restraints and your shirt was cut open. Astarion felt sick as Cazador carved into your back, your blood leaking onto the floor. It still smelt delicious, just cold, dead. Cazador had some sick plan to make him watch before he simply left you and him after he was finished.

Astarion waited till he was out of hearing range and cursed undoing your restraints, making sure you were still alive, well vampire alive. He grabbed a rag and pressed it against your back as it slowly healed. He lifted you and took you back to where he and his brothers and sisters stayed. They were all their eyes wide as he carried you. You were too cold, you had been so warm when he held you against him as he drank you, gods.

He cleaned you with a wet rag, glaring at the others when they went to comment, he hadn’t done this with anyone else. He laid you on the empty bed under him hoping you’d heal quickly. When you finally awoke, you were scared and disorientated, you took the blood vial Karliel gave you. When he spoke you snarled at him, it made him amused before he was shooed out. Before he even got down the hall you were rushing past him almost into the sunlight Cazador so nicely placed. He caught you before you could burn to a crisp, your hand just hitting the sun with a hiss. He held your hip and arm panting a bit at the immense feelings he felt from you. You fell from his arms before you turned and brought him down with you. You were once again trying to rip his throat out, only this time fists his face over and over and he let it happen your feelings too much for him before he caught your hands. You looked so broken and he felt his dead heart clench as you sobbed before you stared at his lips. Before he could react your lips went around his and sucked, you must’ve made his lip bleed. He couldn’t ignore the thrill that went through his body, but he had an audience and pushed you off. You looked terrified again and went to the wall crying. He’d asked for more blood, but none of the others didn’t have any making him scoff, but somehow he felt happy about it as he nicked his wrist. Your nose flared and you looked to his wrist as he offered. You denied, hesitated, but when you bit down he hissed trying to ignore the moan that wanted to leave his body as he felt your emotions and his blend together. You pulled from him holding your head as he frowned confused by these feelings. You were a terrified thing, you didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t blame your fear, but you’d have to settle eventually. A week past and you didn’t leave the bed, he swore you would grow some mushrooms if you didn’t move. He caught you moving when nobody was there, you’d get changed, read a book before continuing lying in the bed facing the wall. He didn’t watch you get changed, it was a relief though you didn’t stay in the same clothes and moved your muscles. When he heard water running he got curious asking who it was only to receive no answer and he knew. The water had stopped and suddenly leaving. He pulled the curtain back making you jump and grip your towel as the water left the bath. You were terrified of him more so than the others, he brought this upon you, he didn’t blame you, it hurt though for some reason, but he kept his stern unbothered act up. One thing was certain you needed a bath, you had dirt and dust on you, you were starting to smell dead too. He took it upon himself to run the bath again and poured in some scented oil. You’d darted out though going to the wardrobe, he cursed, stubborn thing you were. He picked you up, you wouldn’t take of yourself, he’d force you to. You didn’t move and the fear tasted sour on his tongue as you spoke softly to let you go. Your voice and trembling made him stop outside the bath as he let you to your feet and left you.

You finished your bath and felt clean for once. You got dressed in fresh clothes and drained the bath. You brushed your hair and went to the bookshelf. You grabbed a random one and sat on the bed sighing. You wanted to sleep, however vampires slept. Your emotions were haywire, some weren’t yours, it was hard to explain, like you were feeling someone else’s emotions as well as yours.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Xaylia

Since there's quite a few new people and fellow BG3 nerds rolling in after my Astarion drabbles, I thought I'd introduce my perpetually surprised tav, Xaylia 🥰

Bonus.... her and her sassy lil vampire boyfriend 💜 🖤

[pebblethestone]

Flowers in the wind

Halsin x Drow Reader

Summary - sitting in a field filled with flowers and how you meet the poeple that you have made friends within months especially a druid

Masterlist

Words - 1091

A/n - no more writers block and its grate is all I have to say :) don't know if I should make more parts to this but I'll see.

⚠️Blood warning

─────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹─────────

You walk in an open field, the grass and flowers dancing in the wind, swaying back and forth as you pluck flowers near you of all colours, putting them into a woven basket that you hold in your hand.

Being a drow and living in the under dark did have its fall at times but it was your home, but one you will never go back to after being free of the darkness that it had held.

Oh, how lovely it was to feel the sun hitting your cold skin and the fresh air, looking down at your basket to see that you had enough flowers to make what you needed you look around looking for somewhere to sit as your eyes land on a big rock laying on the ground.

Walking over to it you take a sea, setting the basket next to you as you watch the clouds move in the blue sky as they fly by.

'You had been taken by the mind fayers unknown why or how you do not remember as much as you think you should but had escaped with a githyanki called Lae'zel and a half-elf called Shadowheart after getting to the control part of the ship, not remembering what had happened after that as well.

Expected falling and being caught by some sort of magic?, after that, the rest is a blur finding Shadowheart then Lae'zel, Astarion, Gale, wyll and Karlach as you became a party. When meeting Wyll you meet people in a druid's grove, a tiefling called Zevlor had asked you to find a druid called Halsin who had been captured by the goblins.

After finding him as a bear trapped and then working with him to kill the ones leading the goblins, after that, there was a tiefling party, and being you, you decide to take a chance at talking to the wood elf to know him better.

Over time you too got closer and closer but only as friends, you wish for more but you don't want to crush the friendship that you already have.'

Looking back down from the sky to look at the basket filled with a bunch of colourful and bright flowers as you pick one up and sniff it a little It gives off a fresh smell.

Deciding to make what you were planning to as you bring the flower down to where you can see it as you take some more from the basket and then start to weave the flowers together slowly making sure not to make any mistakes along the way as you carry on.

After a while, you finish making the flower crown, looking at its thick with different colours of flowers mixed with green as you lift it to your head realizing that it's a tad too big for your head, putting it into the basket now which only holds now a few flowers left.

Moving off the rock onto the soft grass and sitting down you think about what happened when 'you had decided to go and someone caused you to be stabbed in the leg, coming back to the camp it was late, but didn't want to wake anyone up at the time.

But Halsin was already there waiting for you as he was at the campfire, he had turned his head hearing your food steps as well as your limp that you had.

“Y/n you hurt, what did you do this time?” he asked you as he took a look at your leg seeing that your trousers had blood all over them. You look down at your leg and see it.

“I've had an encounter with someone and helped them some a man who was going to harm them in return I may have been stabbed,” you say to the elf.

“Come here and let me have a look at your wound,” he says as he pats the log next to him where he is sitting, walking over to where he is and taking a seat next to him.

“May I?” he asks as you nod your head as his hand covers your wound, feeling warmth as he does his work as the wound fixes itself.

“be careful with that wound as it can still tear open if you do too much moving,” he says to you as look back up at him.

“thank you Halsin,” you say with a smile looking at the hole in your trousers that you probably fix later on, feeling the elf looking at you.'

Your ears twitch as you hear footsteps coming towards you as you look up you see the druid as he comes over to you.

“I thought I would find you here Y/n” he says as he takes a seat next to you his warm eyes watching you as you fiddle with your hands.

“Halsin, how are you on this sunny day?” you ask him.

“am doing well Y/n, and what about you?” he asks in return.

“am doing good, I have a surprise for you though, close your eyes” you say to him as you grab the flower crown from your basket and lean over to him you where tall but not as tall as he was, moving on to your knees next to him as you place the flower crown onto his head his eyes still closed.

“you can open them now” you say as you move back sitting back where you were before he opens his eyes his eyes moving you to see what you had put on his head as he looks back at you.

“May I ask what it is?” he asks curiously as he watches your smile making him smile a little.

“It's a simple flower crown, you can take it off if you don't like it,” you say as he takes the crown off and takes a look at it his smile grows and he puts it back onto his head.

“no, no I think I shall keep it on for a while, it's Beautifully made,” he says with his warm eyes meeting yours.

“Thank you, am about to head back to the camp would you like to come back with me?” you ask as Halsin stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Yes I came here to make sure you did not get into any trouble while you were by yourself again” he says as you take his hand and he helps you up.

As the both of you start walking off to camp talking along the way.

[feyascorner]

hey! I know you write strictly x reader works, but I can’t help but wonder what your tav looked like in game. I can only assume they’re a bard, but I’m sooo curious! care to post a screen cap? love your writing!

truth be told I have like 9 separate playthroughs,,, but here are my main three girls <3 buckle in because I love them so much

The first one (and my current main) is Kio! She’s a seldarine drow durge and she’s a bard! She’s what I think of when I write TFBU even though there aren’t any descriptions haha :) she’s very goody two shoes now that she’s lost her memories of being a Bhaalspawn, and astarion hates her for it during act 1 but they’ll grow on each other eventually 🫶 she’s more afraid of defying bhaal than reveling in blood but I haven’t decided if she actually succeeds in resisting the urge or not lol

The second (pink) is Lilac!! She’s a tiefling cleric of bhaal (it’s a mod) durge and she’s probably the most “evil” out of the three despite how she looks,,, act 1/2 she doesn’t like automatic violence but she uses her words to manipulate basically everything 😧 so at first glance she’s very kind and then two seconds later she’s gaslighting everyone 💀 she actually wipes out last light inn and isobel in act 2 for the slayer form so 😭 she’s going to redeem herself in the second half of act 2-act 3, while romancing gale :)

Last one is Carnage (ik it’s an emo name) who’s a Lolth-sworn drow durge and a paladin of vengeance. She’s a completely redeemed durge (and she didn’t wipe out anyone on the good side 😍) but she’s very snarky and has a sharp tongue,,,she also likes to attack at any chance she gets rather than talking things out so,,,,she’s working on it. Still, she’s the most upfront of the three and says whatever she’s thinking haha

So in conclusion I have never played as Tav and I won’t unless I finish my 900 other playthroughs❤️ THANK YOU SM FOR ASKING I LOVE ANY OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT THEM

[cammyyyydekarios]

Wasteland Baby,

I’m in Love with You

A Gale x f!Dark Urge fanfiction

Warning: 18+ readers only. Full tags on AO3

‼️spoilers for act 2 dark urge path‼️

Summary: Gale has a confession and Lilith is struggling with many complicated feelings.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

It was a cheerful night at the Last Light Inn - or, rather, as cheerful as the night could be in the shadowlands. The path to Moonrise Towers was grueling and dread still lingers on the edges of minds, especially Lilith’s.

The half-drow, half lost to her thoughts is nestled in the corner of the bar, drink in hand. Her urges have been harder to control - especially after seeing Isobel, her supposed ‘target’. After the initial shock and fear and murderous rage crossed her mind she had to defend the Selune cleric fiercely and suddenly. How the urges begged her to rip her throat out, to watch the blood gush from her wound while the life left her eyes. Instead, she settled for stabbing Fist Marcus until her wrist cramped, covered in his sticky blood and only half satisfied.

She disgusted herself. Worse, she terrified herself. She hated herself. She convinced herself the world would be better if she didn’t exist - that it would be easier if she was dead, and her urges along with her. But she lives - and knows she is needed in the fight against the Absolute. She needed to save her friends from becoming mindflayers. It was the least she could do, to right her ever growing list of wrongs.

So yes, tonight she broods in the corner of the bar, getting drunk on cheap wine and watching everyone around her celebrate. Seemed a fitting end of the night for her.

Her companions were all drinking and making merry. Perhaps too much merry, as Shadowheart looked as if she had too much to drink grasping onto Lae’zel’s shoulder for support. The gith scolds her and leads the cleric to the bedrooms of the inn. Wyll, Karlach and even Astarion are taking delight in watching Volo perform.

Lilith sighs and decides she’s had enough of the festivities for tonight. She begrudgingly lifts her hips from the stool and the frayed hem of her trousers catch on the chair, sending her stumbling forward. She braces herself for a fall, but is surprised by the feeling of strong hands on her hips holding her in place.

Her head tilts up, making eye contact with her mystery savior. A bratty quip about ‘keeping your hands to yourself’ dies on her lips when she meets warm brown eyes.

“Gale.” She breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

The wizard silences her with a smile. “It’s quite alright, Lilith. I was actually hoping to catch you before you retired to bed tonight.”

His hands were removed from her hips now. The heat of his touch lingered, rousing something deep in her gut.

She swallows nervously. “Here, or…?”

“I was actually wondering if you’d care to join me outside?” Gale asks, his tone giving way to his anxiety.

It would be better for her to keep her distance from the wizard - she knows she is dangerous. Anyone who gets close to her is in grave danger. She didn’t know consequences were in store for her now that she refused to kill Isobel after her butler’s order.

But Gale is Gale - kind, smart, handsome. Deserving of happiness. And for whatever reason, he desires her.

He’d expressed as much just mere hours earlier.

Then, her hair was wild, bloodied. The white strands were haphazardly pulled up and stained red. Her body shook with adrenaline from the battle with the shadow creatures. She was wiping blood from her face when Gale had approached her. She smiled as he appeared in front of her, but stood stock still when she saw the expression burning in his eyes. They were dilated, heavy lidded, wanting, even. He’d approached her, pressing his palm hard against her hip, making her gasp. The filthy words he whispered in her ear made her melt into his grasp like putty. He’d said she never more beautiful than in the heat of battle. He’d admitted his own desire and she could feel his growing arousal as he pressed himself against her.

As quickly as it happened, he’d pulled himself away, but not before his eyes lingered on her lips. The memory of their shared scene in the weave with his lips on hers played back in her head and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him in that moment. Until Astarion had approached with a mirthful grin, dangling an enchanted necklace to show off to her.

“Of course.” She responds after a moment, taking herself out of the loop of doubt wracking her system. “Lead the way.”

The night is dark as Gale leads her to an uninhabited clearing outside the inn. Cold air pricks her skin, sending a soft shiver throughout her body.

Darkness cloaked the land, usually - something Lilith was familiar with. The little memories she did have were of early childhood - and growing up in the underdark she found comfort in the way it draped over the land night and day.

Tonight, there is no cloaking darkness. Lilith’s eyes widen as she takes in the awe-inspiring sky before her. Colors swirled where the darkness should be. An aurora borealis.

“Wow,” she breathes out. She moves to seat herself on the cold ground but Gale reacts quickly, muttering a quick conjuration spell. A soft bedroll appears under her and she can’t fight the smile that plays on her lips. “Is this all your doing, Gale?”

The wizard seats himself next to her, his thigh brushing against hers lightly. “It is, indeed.” He answers her, his eyes set on the sky in front of him. He turns his gaze towards her, swallowing hard.

Lilith reaches out and brushes her hand against his. He responds by twining his fingers through hers. His thumb caresses her knuckles tenderly.

“Are you alright?” She asks him. Her heart races in her chest. She wonders for a moment if Gale is as nervous as she is. She wonders if she rests her hand over the orb in his chest if she would feel the wild thumping of his heart. Of course she would - a bittersweet reminder of how alive he is, so alive and so different from anyone her fractured brain can recall. All she remembers is death; by her hand, by others, it didn’t matter. Sickening images taunted her night and day with no repentance.

Well, almost no repentance. When she is with Gale…everything is different. She feels almost soft, almost pliant. She smiles. She can’t say the other companions bring that side out of her - most of them thought her ruthless and kept a careful distance. Not Gale, though. He was always quick to remind her that the urges were not her, that she was not a monster. He brought out her human side; the side of her she always thought was weak. Yes, she had all the makings of a drow; pale, moonlit skin, pointed ears, misty purple eyes. With human blood coursing through her veins. She was conditioned to believe humans were weak, fragile…but she’s come to find that Gale is none of those things. He is strong, intelligent and open minded; whilst also being tender, soft and sweet.

She recalls loving a human before losing her memories, in her own revolting way. She cannot recall his face, the visions of him merely shadows in her mutilated brain. She cannot recall anything about him. But being close to Gale often brought back snippets of memories - feelings, mostly. The soft brush of another’s hand, a lock of hair pushed behind her ear. The soft, caring touch of someone tending to her wounds.

Sometimes, when she lies awake at night, she wonders if she is truly capable of loving someone else. In her mind, there is no doubt she is undeserving of it - loving someone, and being loved - all together. To her, it is almost crueler that she feels so much. It would be easier to not feel at all than address the ache in her chest when he comes near.

“I love this time of night.” She finally hears Gale breathe out. His eyes are glassy as he continues caressing her knuckles with his thumb. His voice wavers, giving way to his nerves. “There’s almost a reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn would never break…the cradle of eternity.”

Lilith’s mouth quirks in an attempted smile as she continues to listen to him. She is quite used to the endless words akin to poetry that seemed to be instinctual to the wizard, but something about his tone tonight is different.

“The timelessness of lovers…” he drolls out, turning his head to look upon Lilith. Her breath hitches as their eyes make contact. Gale expression is so vulnerable…so open. A hand presses against her cheek. The touch is brief, but the heat of him lingers. “The most beautiful of fantasies.”

Her face warms at his praise. It isn’t unlike him to flatter - but that remark feels different. He feels different. Lilith cant deny the effect his words have on her, but she knows that’s exactly what she is. A fantasy. A pretty face to look at, a warm body to indulge in. A tool to be used and thrown away. Nothing more.

She swallows, hard. “Why did you summon me here?”

Gale releases her hand now, leaving it cold at her side. “This may be my last night alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty, and wonder.” He tells her as he looks upon the stars. His gaze shifts to her again and she stiffens. “And with company to match.”

“I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter. But I am not so sure.” He finally confesses.

“Gale,” she starts, her eyebrows furrowing. “I refuse to believe this is the end. We will find another way, I promise.” She tries to hold back the rising panic in her voice, not wanting to divulge how much she feels she needs him.

The wizard’s smile is guarded. “Thank you. But even if we do find another way, perhaps this is the right way. The end fate wishes for me.”

“No. No.” Lilith breathes. “I cannot accept that. I cannot allow you to throw away your life for her-“

“It’s not for Mystra, Lilith! It’s the whole godsdamned world in the balance and I have a way to fix it-“

“I won’t let you. You can’t-“

“But why?” Gale asks. His usually warm brown eyes are wide, pleading.

Lilith’s gaze drops to the ground. A rising panic floods her body.

“Please, tell me.” He urges her, taking her cheek in his hand. His hand brushes her cheek and her eyes meet his. “You’re….crying.”

It’s an observation. One that shocks even her. She blinks, confused. Streams of hot, salty tears flood from her eyes. She can’t remember the last time she cried. Hells, she could barely remember anything, but she knew she didn’t cry. At least, she thought she didn’t.

Gale wipes her tears, and there is something so foreign, so cloying about his thumb brushing them away. Has she ever been touched so gently?

“I do not know who I am, not wholly,” she confesses. “But I know you. You’re good, you’re kind. You’re an incredible wizard and you have family and friends who love you, Gale.”

The wizard is silent, for once. She continues. “I wish I could take your place. I would take the orb from you in an instant, destroy the absolute and finally pay for everything I’ve done.”

Gale’s hand cups her jaw, willing her to look at him. “Lilith.”

“I’m not good, not like you. I have nothing, no one and it’s more than I deserve-“

“Lilith, look at me.”

It’s a command, and she follows it. She darts her eyes up at him, and gods his dark eyes are so soft as they look at her. The sincerity of it makes her feel naked. Powerless, even, as this human man cradles her heart in his hands and he doesn’t even know he has it.

“You must know you are very special to me.” Gale says, his voice merely a choked whisper. She trembles, and he covers her hands with his. “If things were different, if we were home…I’d have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

Lilith knows what’s coming before it leaves his mouth. She’s pulling away, ready to retreat. “Gale-“

“I’m in love with you.”

She sits still, in shock after his confession before shaking her head. “I am undeserving of your love, I’m a murderer, Gale-“

“I’m in love with you, Lilith.” He repeats himself, sterner this time. “And I think you love me too.” He grips her hands like they are his life source, his eyes pleading with her and Lilith is tired. She’s tired of holding back. She’s tired of pretending she doesn’t love him. So, she takes his jaw in hand and slots her lips against his, and she’s finally kissing him. Hesitant and clumsy at first; her lips touch his, barely pressing. He reaches up to cup her cheek, groaning as he tastes her lips. She realizes very suddenly Gale isn’t shy with his mouth - his tongue slides against her lower lip, seeking entrance. Lilith lets out a choked little noise and parts her lips. He tastes like sweet red wine and magic as he lazes his tongue in her mouth. She could feel the weight of his body, incessant, pressing her against the bedroll.

They kiss for a long while. Long enough that Lilith forgets her earlier hesitations.

“I think I’m in love with you too.” She whispers against his chest when they finally part. “I don't - I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. But…I know I want to be with you.”

Gale smiles, he truly smiles for the first time since Mystra charged him with detonating the orb. “That’s a relief. It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”

“Gale!” She swats at his shoulder playfully, sending him rolling on his back. He laughs, freely, a light sound. She rests her body on top of his, her thighs on either side of his. His thumping heart beats quickly against her breast. “I’ve made a mess of you.” She tells him with a sigh, thumbing away her signature raven black lipstick from his irritatingly kissable lips.

With a hushed command and small gesture of his fingers, the lipstick disappears. She feels a light tingling on her skin. Gale takes off the rest of her makeup too with another hushed prestidigitation cantrip and he looks at her. His big brown eyes are admiring her, full of adoration. “You are beautiful.”

It’s the first time he’s seen her without makeup. The face that’s usually so severe, setting fear in the hearts of so many looks so soft as she gazes down at Gale. Her skin pale like marble, her eyes a soft lavender. Her lips deliciously pink and kissable. The same could be said about her cheeks, all hot and flushed just for him. And on the plane of her nose and on her cheeks are a soft smattering of freckles. With a light touch, he traces the scar that starts at her forehead and runs diagonally through her full brows to end at her cheek. His eyes are questioning, but he doesn’t voice his curiosity.

“I think I was young,” she starts, letting her mind sift through her broken memories. “I don’t remember anything other than that.”

Gale hums for a moment, staring up at her with an almost tangible warmth. “I could pick up a pen write poetry about your beauty…alas, there are truly no words that compare to the vision in front of me.”

“Hmm. I admit, I’m not well versed in poetry. Though I do enjoy a good raunchy ballad.” Lilith teases him, sliding her hands along his plush velvet tunic.

He grins wickedly. “Ah! A splendid idea! It would be quite the story to hear in a tavern, wouldn’t it? Two unlikely companions becoming close through hardships and grave dangers, finding love with the prospect of death looming on the horizon…”

“If I’d known you felt this strongly about ballads I would have asked Alfira to write one about us instead of my ravishing body.” She accentuates this point by taking the wizards hands in hers, guiding them up her frame. She places them on her waist before letting go. Gale’s fingers dance along the fabric of her tunic before settling on the soft curve of her waist, squeezing gently. “Or perhaps an erotic novel featuring a noble wizard and his drow maiden would be more to your taste?”

Gale’s mouth parts in surprise for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There was no denying the impact her words had on him. In fact, his growing excitement was evident between her legs now.

The wizard clears his throat, sliding his hands lower to claim her hips with his touch. “A novel written by you would be a dream come true, my darling. In fact, I could try my hand at it. It should be easy, given even a mere glance from you inspires me to no end. In more ways than just one.”

A hitch in Lilith’s breath emboldens him, evidence of her reaction to his words. His gaze trails from her face, flicking down to her chest lingering just long enough to be respectful, (he is a gentleman after all) eventually landing on her thighs spread on their side of his, then back up to her eyes. “Of course, I would very much enjoy writing of this ‘ravishing half-drow maiden’,” - he is quick to correct her and she rolls her eyes, muttering “semantics!” - “but I’m not quite sure any flowery words could accurately describe just how lovely she truly is.”

“Then you must recount just how ravishing I am. In extra detail.” Lilith demands, leaning in just enough their noses touch.

“Oh yes, my dearest Lilith,” Gale starts, his thumbs dipping just under her tunic. He traces shapes into her bare skin and Lilith has to remind herself to breathe. “I shall write of every little thing that makes you so. Starting with those spellbinding lavender eyes that give way to your every emotion. Your gorgeous lips, your delicate curves, your fascinating mind. I’ll write of your strength, too. The feeling of your skin under my hands, as well, though I may need to do more…research, so to speak, on that specific topic.”

“Are you saying you want to touch me, Gale?”

“If I could be so lucky - I want it more than anything.”

“Then why write when you could feel? Experience?” Lilith guides one of his hands to her chest, over her hammering heart. He feels it beat under his touch for only a moment until she slides the hand down, placing it on her breast. He takes it in hand, her plushness filling his palm. “I’m quite real, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” He smirks shamelessly, his hand kneading at her. “But consider this, love: in the future…when death welcomes me to her door, my words will remain. Our love immortalized on paper forevermore. I shall write of you until I can no longer hold a pen, when the ink runs dry and I fill the final page, until there are no more words to say.”

Even as he palms her breasts eagerly now, his voice stays perfectly even. Godsdamned wizards and their impeccable concentration! He speaks in a relaxed, even cadence saying the sweetest words and touching her - though now, Lilith could see his pulse jumping under his skin. Small victories.

“You are such a romantic.” She murmurs affectionately, pulling her lower lip in her mouth as his thumb brushes lightly against one of her nipples. “Tell me, Gale, how is it possible such a lovely man has no wife awaiting him at home in Waterdeep?”

“Perhaps it is the same reason why a beautiful unmarried maiden such as yourself is perched so prettily in my lap. Gods, I feel so privileged to touch you like this.” The wizard was losing it now, his thoughts spiraling all in the same direction. He needed her close, to worship her with his touch. He needed to show her just how special she is to him.

Lilith toys with the hem of her tunic, a bright flush decorating her pale gray skin. “You may touch me however you wish, Gale. I grant you that privilege.”

Gale swallows hard, understanding quickly dawning on him. He releases her breasts to drag her tunic up over her head. She raises her arms and the garment is quickly discarded. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes in the view of her; the tops of her breasts spilling through her bra. It digs into her skin uncomfortably and the wizard furrows his brows. “That looks painful. May I?” His fingers trail up her back to the clasp holding the constricting fabric together. She nods and he doesn’t hesitate; the bra falls to the ground a second later, discarded and forgotten.

Lilith sighs in relief as her chest is bared to the cool night air. She watches Gale’s expression turn as he observes her, his eyes dragging down her form appreciatively, memorizing every inch of her milky skin. She resists the urge to cover herself. A part of her feels shameful when he looks upon her. Of course she knows her body is littered in scars. Gale, however, didn’t know the extent of just how scarred she is. So many wounds, some healed and barely visible, some fresher and pink. And he has yet to say a word! Not knowing what he is thinking is akin to torture for her.

“You practically glow in the moonlight.

Goddess.” He finally says. His voice is finally shaky, breathy even, like he can scarcely keep himself together. “I often wondered what you would look like, bared for me. My imagination pales in comparison to this.”

Lilith is throbbing between her legs now as he touches her properly for the first time, lithe fingers dancing along her skin before circling her sensitive nipples. Her thighs clench, squeezing his hips. She bites back the meek moan threatening to leave her.

“You haven’t seen me bared yet.” she teases, rubbing the crux of her thighs along his length.

Gale practically groans as she rocks her hips on him, grabbing at hers to still her. “I haven’t, have I? Allow me to amend that.”

Lilith slides off his lap so his fingers can work at her laces. Warm, practiced hands slide the fabric down her legs before throwing it to the ground. Those same hands caress her hips and thighs in earnest now. Her eyes lift to meet Gale’s, only to discover how utterly enamored he is with her body. Gods, how intense those kind eyes could be. How much heat could lie inside them - lurking just beneath the surface. She presses her thighs together, her core barely concealed by a small pair of black panties.

“Ah, ah.” Gale tuts, prying her legs apart, first admiring the way the fabric sticks to her flesh. He dips his thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, stealing a breath from her. “Would you allow me the privilege…?”

She nods, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Please, Gale.”

With no hesitation, he slides them down her legs and bundles them up, placing them in the pocket of his trousers. “…for safekeeping.” He assured her with a wink.

A nervous laugh bubbles in Lilith’s chest as she rests back on her elbows. She anticipated he would jump on her at first opportunity; but he pulls back, choosing instead to admire her under the soft glow of the sky he conjured just for her. “Lost your nerve, wizard?” She asks him. Her legs drape open and she’s finally bare beneath him. His eyes lock on to the small thatch of silver hair between her thighs before they traveled lower, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“How inviting you are. Just beautiful.” He murmurs appreciatively and she has to fight the visceral reaction her body has to his words. She clenches around nothing and pulls her lip between her teeth, biting hard.

Gale’s steady hands cup her jaw, pulling her into him and kissing her fiercely. He pulls away - breathless, before asking: ”May I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-“

“Gods, please Gale!”

“Desperation is a good look on you, dearest.” he admits before kneeling in front of her and lowering himself until she could feel his breath on her. “Such a delicate flower.” He whispers, finally dragging a single finger down her folds. Dexterous fingers tease her flesh, circling once around her opening to gather her slick before pressing against her already swollen clit. His eyes lift briefly to admire her debauched expression as he slowly sinks one finger inside her, immediately followed by another. “Does that feel good?” He questions, but the knowing smirk on his lips tells her he already knows the answer.

Lilith pouts and sighs dramatically, causing him to stop the movement of his fingers inside her. He looks up, a furrow in his brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something is gravely wrong. You see, a certain talented wizard of great renown once told me he had a practiced tongue…” She smirks, scooting her hips closer to his face. He presses a soft kiss right under her navel, leaving her shuddering. “The problem is, I’ve scarcely been able to think of anything else but that beautiful man and his tongue-“

Gale swiftly cuts her off with a long drag of his tongue up the expanse of her. She whines as he reaches her clit and threads her fingers through his soft brown curls.

“Oh.” she breathes as he parts her folds and focuses on her tiny bundle of nerves. Gods, was this man eager to please. She bucks hard against his face and he presses a hand hard against her thigh, holding her leg up to rest on his shoulder. “I - I apologize,” She stammers out, her whole body quivering. “It’s been a while, can’t even remember the last time-“

The hot lave of his tongue between her legs abruptly stopped, replaced by Gale’s thumb, his other fingers still stroking inside her at a languid pace. “What exactly are you apologizing for, love?” He asks and his hot breath makes her squirm.

“Gonna come fast, Gale please-” she practically begs him now, her hand in his hair pushing down his head, desperate to have his mouth again.

Gale seals his lips around her clit and her whole body contracts, her legs only spreading wider for him. He greedily laps up her release as he pets at her inner walls, stroking deeper and deeper as they contract around his fingers.

“Gale…” she whines, practically tearing at his tunic to pull him closer. His fingers slip out of her as he falls into her embrace, their lips meeting desperately.

Lilith didn’t know she could feel this way. To feel more like a woman than a monster. But in this moment, pliant in Gale’s arms, she feels like a woman. Hells, she feels like a goddess after he worshipped her with his tongue.

The same tongue that was now sliding across her own. Her hands grab at the hem of his tunic, shoving it over his head. The wizard chuckles before assisting her, slipping it the rest of the way off. Her palms slide over his bare chest, finally feeling his skin under her hands. His trousers are next to go, haphazardly thrown to the side and when Lilith opens her eyes Gale is looming over her in only his underwear. Her hands find the waistband quickly with all intentions of dipping her fingers inside and taking him in hand, but she hesitates. Instead, she looks up at him, and finds him staring down at her. Their eyes meet - his, dark and stormy, full of lust and love. It steals the breath from her lungs and she kisses him them, pressing her forehead to his. “You’ll stay with me?” she asks him now, her voice softer than he’s ever heard before. Her teary lavender eyes are begging, pleading him. Please, she wants to say. She wants to have him, to keep him. She wants to be enough. Enough for him to stay.

”I’m here,” he tells her, his voice strangled. His own dark eyes are glassy. “I would never even dream of leaving you, Lilith. I love you.”

Their lips meet again and she takes him in her hand, earning a groan from her wizard. His skin is hot in her palm but she needs more. She pulls away from him, settling back on the bedroll and opening her legs. “Please.”

Gale exhales heavily at the sight of her, so open and ready for him. He crawls over to her, his body hovering over hers. ”Gods, you’re a vision - what do you need, my love?”

Lilith cannot help it; her eyes flit straight down his body to stare between his legs. He looks achingly hard; a bead of wetness at the head that she desperately wants to lap up. However, in this moment - her need for him to be inside her was far greater.

“I need your cock.” She finally tells him, pleading, her arms reaching out to pull him on top of her.

“Eloquently put, dearest.” Gale murmurs teasingly before holding her close, kissing her slowly, languidly. His hardness presses against her stomach and she reaches down, angling him against her center. A whine escapes her as the tip of him brushes her still-sensitive clit. She is so wet, her slick so abundant he slides right down through her folds and enters her with no resistance. He groans as he does - his control waning for every torturous second he lets her walls adjust around his girth.

Lilith gasps as he thrusts inside her for the first time, her hands flying up around his neck. “Gale,” she moans, placing a wet kiss over his pulse point. “You make me forget this god-forsaken world, you elate me, excite me, intoxicate me - fuck!”

A brutal thrust causes her to lose her train of thought. She moans with reckless abandon, clenching around his length that’s buried so deep inside her. “By the gods, I feel the same way, Lilith.” Gale manages to say, his breath hot against her neck.

”You know me like no other,” she proclaims, winding her legs around his waist. She digs her heels into his backside, a desperate moan spilling from her lips as the angle forces him even deeper. “Gale, I - I love you. Come inside me, please, make me yours. I want to be yours.”

Gale wastes no time in dipping his head down and licking into her mouth, her jaw cradled in his hand. His cock throbs against her fluttering walls as he fucks her at a maddening pace and she knows he is close. Still, his hand slides between their bodies, his fingers gathering her slick and circling her clit. She whines in his mouth and clenches around him, so close to the edge already.

“I feel it,” he practically growls against her lips. “The way you tighten around me - gods, come for me again my love.”

She does - she comes around him like a storm, mewling into his mouth, squeezing his cock with reckless abandon. It sends Gale to the edge; his hips stutter against hers and he spills inside her.

The moment feels precious. Cathartic. His lips slide against hers and for once she is grateful to not be able to remember anything before the tadpole. For this; being in his arms - is perfect. He is what she wants to remember. No one else.

“Will you?” She asks him. “Stay with me?”

Gale presses a sweet kiss to her head. “Of course I will, my darling.”

And for now whilst Lilith is nestled safely in his embrace, she stares up at the sky. Her lips curl in a smile as the colors of the Aurora Borealis comes into view. She marvels at how incredible the stars could look. An almost indescribable feeling rushes over her sweat slick skin, a sense of security she’s never experienced before. Her eyes move to Gale, who’s eyes are closed, his breaths coming even and deep. She waits for the urge to call on her, tainting the moment. But it’s quiet, seemingly dormant.

For now, everything is perfect.

[eternal-honeyy]

Luminary Masterlist

Astarion Ancunin x f!Reader Oneshot Series

Synopsis: Our favorite pale elf and his half-drow companion fall into something dangerously close to love over a series of oneshots that explore all of their experiences together, from creating a wary alliance, to creating a family.

Written Order:

Smallest Star; Unknown

Clawing Ever Upward

What Lies Buried

Chronological Order:

Clawing Ever Upward

Smallest Star; Unknown

What Lies Buried

Divider credit: @cafekitsune