#LAE’ZEL YOU DESERVE SO MUCH MORE LOVE!!!!!!

[basketobread]

your drawings of lae'zel made me finally romance her thank you

no, anon… thank YOU. this is the most beautiful ask i have ever gotten and all of my work has been worth it. have a good day forever

[leighsartworks216]

You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

[avocado-writing]

May I ask for a companions x Tav headcanons list were Tav loves to cook and see's it as a way to people's hearts?

Astarion

Obviously is sad he cannot partake more, as he sees how much effort and love you put into your cooking.

You make an effort to make richly-flavoured blood dishes he might enjoy, just for him! But everyone thinks it’s just a tad bit morbid (and he agrees) so won’t ask you to go out of your way for him.

“Besides darling, I prefer to sample straight from the source…”

One night you’ve just pressed some parsley leaves to your neck for flavouring for him. He laughs so hard he cries. This is the first time he realises he loves you.

Gale

Oh, the camp’s resident cook is delighted to have a sous-chef!

And then he realises oops, no, he is the sous-chef. At which point he’s just happy to sit and watch you work your magic.

Happy to make dinner in order to pull his weight in the group, but he’s entranced watching you do it, too. You’re a wizard with some knives and a saucepan.

He can feel the love you put into every bite. Always makes sure to go out of his way to compliment you, and loves the way you smile in return ❤️

Wyll

After spending so much time on the road, he’s so happy to be in the presence of a good cook.

With every bite will discuss the flavour palate of your dish, talking about what herbs he can taste, letting you know he appreciates your effort.

He’s not a brilliant chef himself but would love for you to teach him!

In return he saves up to buy you fancy chocolates from the best chocolatier in Baldur’s Gate. It’s the least you deserve, and the way you light up makes his heart beat fast.

Karlach

Whatever you make, she loves.

“Pasta? My favourite! Oh my god, we’re having steak? I love it! Rice tonight? Right on!!”

She doesn’t have a favourite food. Dishes in Avernus were not wide in range, so she’s just happy to eat some different meals for once.

You give her seconds and thirds and she eats them up, going on and on about what a good cook you are.

“You’re so amazing at this! I love you!”

Good thing she’s too engrossed in her food to notice how flustered you are…

Lae’zel

Reluctant to eat anything at first.

“I do not want your istik food. I shall provide for myself.”

But after a few days of smelling how good the food is that you cook, she gives in… still trying to pretend it’s beneath her.

You serve her a small portion to start with, then watch her eyes widen as she realises how delicious it tastes.

She is too proud to ask for more - and you’d not have her any other way - but you make sure to serve her big portions from then on. Her bowl is always scraped clean.

Shadowheart

Isn’t too sure on your cooking at first - she’s used to bland, tasteless meals at the temple - but quickly comes around.

The longer you’re together and the closer you become, the more she opens up about her favourite flavours. Eventually she starts making requests.

“There’s this sort of cake I vaguely remember… if I can get you the honey, could you make it for me?”

Of course you can. You sit down and share it, watching her eyes roll back in delight, the way she licks the crumbs off of her fingers. The two of you are enamoured with each other, but you still fight over the last slice.

[feyascorner]

9 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh, love.”

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. officially in act 2 so there's like a few weeks of a timeskip!!!! finally getting to that blurry line between hatred and...wtv they are

also praying the tags work this time

“Wake up,” you whisper. “Wake up, Astarion.”

His body shakes as you pull him closer to your chest, ignoring how cold his skin feels against yours. There’s nothing out here except the two of you and the blissful gaze of the moon glimmering against all the other stars in the sky. Here, it’s as if nothing else exists.

Yet, the nightmares continue to haunt him.

“Cazador, he’ll come for us. He’ll come for you. He’ll make me watch as you die and laugh at my agony before he tosses me into that damned prison again for another year. Maybe even more,” he rasps. “Gods, you were so–there was so much blood—your blood—and all I could smell was–”

You shush him, running your hand through white curls. The sensation seems to calm him just the slightest. “He’s not here. I’m alive, and so are you. See?”

Gently, you raise his palm to where your heart rests and wait patiently for him to come back to you again. He melts into the steady thumping of your heart, shoulders slowly relaxing. It takes some time, but eventually, his panting slows, and he slumps into your touch. When you pull him close again, he shakes his head.

“I’ll kill him for what he’s done to me and what he could do to you.”

You answer him by intertwining your fingers with his own. In response, he tightens his arms around your waist.

“I’m going to love watching him scream.”

Crashing onto the ground does little for your already trembling knees.

“Again.”

Weeks have passed since your last uncomfortable encounter with Astarion, and you’d much prefer to keep it that way. And while things have mostly smoothed over with your companions, the obvious issue of the spawn remains a concern, though the murders have decreased significantly in passing times. You’re grateful there aren’t as many bodies, but it also makes you wonder what’s preventing them from killing as many as they did. Fear it, even.

Lae’zel’s wooden sword wipes you off your feet again, and you land face-first into the grass. Embarrassment floods your cheeks despite there being nobody else in the park.

“You’ve gotten rusty, istik.”

Clambering onto your knees, you grip your own sword to stabilize yourself. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s gotten significantly better?”

“Flattery won’t save you on a battlefield, bard.”

“‘Was-bard,’” you correct her, using the sword to bounce back onto your heels. “And I think it’s saved us more than a few times. Remember that time I persuaded Yurgir to kill all his friends before we killed him?”

“A silver tongue has no use if the enemy is deaf,” she lunges at you, and you barely manage to stumble out of the way.

You hiss. “Why the hell would I be fighting a deaf enemy? And can you please warn me before you try to stab me?”

“There are no warnings in a real battle.”

“We’re not in real battle!”

She ignores you and lunges once more without warning.

You land on your ass again and again until you’re sure there’s a nasty bruise on half of your legs. There’s not enough time to register the soreness spreading to your knees, however, because by the time you’re up, she’s already coming at you again. It’s hopeless, you think, blocking another attack. Just as you’re about to give up and admit defeat, you see an opportunity in her stance. Seemingly laid back with how miserably you’re failing, you take it as a weakness and practically pounce at the opportunity to launch at her in return for your own bruises.

By some miracle, it lands.

She doesn’t fall as pathetically as you did, but she stumbles.

“Have you lost your touch, Lae’zel?”

You whip your head around to the voice where Shadowheart is under the shade of a tree, a letter gripped in her fingers. She paces closer to you and your opponent, raising a brow at the state you’re in. “Was it really necessary to beat them so harshly?”

“It worked, didn’t it? They managed to hit me,” Lae’zel scoffs, a hint of pride in her tone.

“Well, as wonderful of a time it is to watch you fight one another like beasts,” Shadowheart rolls her eyes, lifting the letter. “Tav and I need to get new clothes tailored, it seems.”

Lae’zel snatches the letter before you can take a look, her eyes scanning over the words before shooting to you. “A celebration?”

“A ball, more like,” the cleric steals the sheet right back, handing it to you. “In our honor, of course, for defeating the elder brain. About time we received something in return.”

You only briefly glance at the words printed on the letter. “This is too much.”

Both heads turn to you inquisitively. “I thought you’d be ecstatic for something like this. I recall you always used to sing about the songs people would make about your adventures.”

“That was ages ago,” you sigh, but Lae’zel doesn’t seem much happier either.

“They choose to celebrate while the city’s citizens are being picked off like prey by spawn? No wonder its inhabitants have turned out so puny,” she glances at you while she speaks. You contemplate rolling your eyes, though you’d rather not get knocked on your ass again.

“You and Gale can go tomorrow. I made reservations at the tailor for all of us, but Figaro says he can only take two a day,” Shadowheart tells Lae’zel. “You wouldn’t mind if I took your punching bag for a few hours, would you?”

“Tchk. I have the wizard as another target if need be.”

She tosses her braid over her shoulder as she nods. “Great. Let’s hurry then.”

They don’t give you much room to protest in the matter, already having made up their minds—not that you were going to object in the first place. You’re honored, really, that the city finds you impressive enough to throw a celebration in your honor, and you know your companions are more than deserving of it, too. But it’s as Lae’zel said.

There’s another battle brewing under the city, in its shadows, and in plain sight, yet you can’t do anything about it. It’s not like the elder brain. Killing the brain itself was enough to rid of the mind flayers, but in this case, killing one spawn only leads to hunting 7000 more. Most of which are being lied to by Astarion’s siblings.

You shake your head to rid of the thoughts. No. You deserve this. You went through hell and back with that bloody parasite in your head, so hells be damned if you can have one bloody night to yourself. One that doesn’t consist of consistently worrying about whether another body will drop dead while you sleep blissfully in the walls of your own home. You need this after all you’ve been through.

Still…

The silence as you walk alongside Shadowheart makes you cringe.

It’s not like she’s angry at you, nor are you at her. You understand her reactions toward Astarion, and you like to think that she does too. But with how things ended with him last time, your interactions with the cleric have grown increasingly curt, with short conversations baring down to the bare necessities. You’ve tried to speak with her, but each time the two of you are alone, the guilt gnaws away at your stomach—your confidence along with it.

This time, you swear. This time you’ll apologize.

“Shadowhea-”

“I shouldn’t have done it.”

You blink. Twice.

She doesn’t look at you, continuing to stride through the city streets. “It was unfair of me to blow up at you for letting Astarion feed. It wasn’t my choice, and I know that. I was only…”

You wait for her to continue, increasing the speed of your footsteps to catch up.

“...It was a selfish reason,” she mutters. “I did not want to lose you to him again. I’ve seen you the last time he hurt you, and you were practically a stranger to all of us. Even with defeating the elder brain, you didn’t seem happy in the slightest. He ruined so much that I—-I instinctively tried to make a decision that I have no control over.”

“It won’t happen again. Lying, I mean,” you blurt immediately. “I’ve learned, as hard as it might be to believe. I don’t want to drift from you again, either. I’m just sorry it took so long to bring this up.”

“I’m in no place to complain. It took weeks for me to understand how in the hells your thought process seems to work…And how you manage to make such bad decisions that somehow have a knack for working out,” she purses her lips. “I still don’t understand. Not completely. But I do also trust you know what you’re doing.”

You don’t know what you’re doing, but you think it’s better to avoid telling her that.

She smiles, and you already feel lighter. “It’s a miracle I’m alive, to be honest.”

“It really is. Trust me, I’d know,” she snorts in return.

“I do have quite the skilled healer at my side, which helps.”

Shadowheart stops in front of Figaro’s store, glancing back at you. You hadn’t even realized the two of you had walked this far, but she shrugs with a smug grin as she pushes through the door.

“Whatever would you do without me?”

You’ve searched the Blushing Mermaid at least a dozen times over now, in case you missed any of Dalyria’s things that might aid you in your search for the other siblings. Despite the tavern owners blocking the entrance, a simple mage hand or two was enough to pry open the wooden boards nailed to the basement door.  It’s been nearly three times now that you’ve come up empty-handed, but what harm could a fourth try do? Sure, you’ve scrummaged her desk seven times alone, but perhaps you might have missed a drawer or two…

The stillness of the night is disturbed as you lift the hatch leading to the basement, waving away the dust that flies into your face. You pocket Dalyria’s journal and begin your descent downward. The humidity hits your cheeks, and you sigh, swallowing your distaste for the crumbling lair to resume your investigation without any distractions. You expect another endless night of useless rummaging through the Hag’s old things and some of Dalyria’s own belongings, but doing nothing would weigh too heavily on your conscious.

Just as you enter the actual lair, you find that you are not alone.

A blond man stands on the other side, his back turned to you as he searches the desk you’ve already looked over multiple times.

Petras.

Sure, you’ve been searching for him for quite a while now, but for him to just waltz into you like this? You’re not sure if you’re insanely lucky or simply unlucky for not having stumbled into him until now. He remains unaware of your presence, and you take the opportunity to reach for your knife, willing your footsteps to feel lighter to avoid detection. Another skill a certain rogue taught you at a certain point, but never mind that.

The floorboard creaks under your weight.

Dammit. You’ve never been as good as he was.

He whips around, immediately on the defense. But as soon as he spots you, his shoulder relaxes, a scowl falling as he blinks. “Oh. You.”

Embarrassment burns in your cheeks, feeling like a child who’s been caught stealing an extra sweet from the cookie jar. Still, you straighten your back, shifting so he can’t see the knife clenched in your hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering when I’d see Astarion’s pet again,” he ignores your question, stepping away from the desk toward you. It makes your body tense. “You’ve been up to quite a lot since the last time we spoke, haven’t you? I hear you nearly captured my sister.”

“I’m not his pet,” you snap, more harshly than you intended. He raises a brow. 

“Fine. His blood bank.”

Your sharp glare is enough to send him your sentiments.

“Not a very willing blood bank, I see.”

“What are you doing here, Petras?” you finally snap.

He ignores you again, and this time, you contemplate chucking the knife at his head. “How’s my brother doing? Horrible, I hope.”

“He’s fine,” you retort through gritted teeth. It’s the nicest thing you can conjure up at the moment. “We would be doing better if you weren’t making a bloodbath of the city.”

“You nearly killed my sister as well.”

“Your sister is the one that attacked us after she said she was going to kidnap Astarion like he’s some sort of object. What was I supposed to do?”

“Well, I can’t blame you. She’s always been stubborn,” he shrugs. “But I am disappointed you chose to take my brother’s side after all he’s done to you. I would pity you, really, if you hadn’t gone and killed almost four of us already.”

“You can’t blame me for self-defense.”

Petras frowns. “Tell me, why didn’t you take our deal?”

“What?”

He paces a few steps toward you, standing at the platform of the lair while you stare up at him in bewilderment. “We’ve been watching you for an extended period of time now. We offered you everything you could possibly gain from a deal like this one, and you still rejected it. You’d get rid of us and keep the city safe. All the while, you’d never have to see my brother again. Dalyria says it barely seemed to phase you. I want to know why.”

“It’s—” you trip over your own tongue. You don’t even know why you feel obligated to answer him. “It just felt right at the time.”

“What kind of half-baked answer is that?”

“I answered your question, didn't I? Now answer mine.”

Petras furrows his brows, glancing at Dalyria’s desk behind him. “I take it you know what we plan to do?”

You purse your lips, and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“I wanted to take Astarion by force, personally. But Leon and Dalyria…they’ve grown considerably soft after Cazador left,” he rolls his eyes at the thought, crossing his arms. “...A shame. That kind of fragility won’t get them anywhere in this world. Those fools are destined to die or to live at the bottom of the barrel, forever feeding on city rats.”

The way he speaks of his siblings makes your stomach churn.

“You’re a bigger fool if you think I’m going to let you go through with the ascension,” you hiss. “You’ll kill all those spawns. They’ve put their trust in you to lead them, and you’re lying straight to their faces as if their lives aren’t worth the crap on your shoes–”

“And how did things turn out the last time you tried to stop the ascension?”

This makes your throat go dry.

“Take this as our last warning, bard. Or else we’ll come and take him ourselves.”

“He’s your brother,” you blurt in exasperation, waving your hand in disbelief. “You can’t possibly want to kill him, even if he’s an asshole from time to time! Cazador is gone. You’re free! There’s nothing else to run away from!”

You don’t know why you’re defending him.

But it pours out of your chest, and you already know trying to choke it back up won’t reverse what’s already been said.

With your words seemingly going in one ear and out the other, Petras clenches his fist at his side and glowers down at you with a sharp inhale. Despite his attempts to appear composed, you can see the vein bulging from his forehead, threatening to burst if you push him any longer. “He stopped being my brother the second he tried to ascend.”

“Still—”

“He attempted to kill the rest of us for the sake of his own wellbeing. What makes him any different than Cazador himself?” he argues. “Cazador always took a special interest in Astarion. I see now that it’s because they’re so similar. In life or in death.”

For some strange reason, this makes your blood burn.

You can hear Astarion’s gasps as his master’s nightmarish toll awoke you both on those starry nights when the parasite still swam in your heads. How cold he’d felt in your arms, rasping into your chest as you calmed him. White curls brushed against your hand as you pulled him close. You’ve never wished to the gods for much, but in that moment, you begged them to let him forget. To give you something—anything—to soothe the trembling of his hands.

Astarion could have been like Cazador. He’d come dangerously close to becoming the very monster that tortured him for centuries, but he hadn’t. Whether it was voluntary or not, it doesn’t matter because, at the end of the day, he isn’t Cazador. And you plan to keep it that way as long as your fingers can still clutch your blade.

“I was planning on paying you a visit,” Petras says, catching your attention once more as he slips out a scroll from his sleeve. “Though I suppose you’ve made this easier on the both of us…especially if you die here.”

You take a step toward him, heels digging into the ground. “If you think I’ll just—”

“If you’ll only get in my way, then I have no problem with watching you perish.”

With a shout, the scroll glows a lime green, and a long groan echoes from the bodies scattered throughout the room.

Shit.

The spawn adjusts his hood back around his head, sparing you a pitiful stare. “You’ve chosen your side, and it's the one that's destined to lose. Good luck, bard…I hope your death isn’t as painful as it could have been at Astarion’s hands.”

And just as the undead begins to crawl toward you with an agonizing screech, he puffs up into a cloud of red smoke and vanishes.

You need a bath. Terribly.

Barely scraping out with your life, you can’t say you’re a pleasing person to look at with the dirt and blood smeared across your body. The sleeve of your shirt is torn open, and while a few healing potions have done the trick to heal most of your injuries, the more minor splits and cuts remain an insistent reminder of the war you’ve just declared with the vampire spawns.

Well, they’re the ones who declared it, but the point stands.

You manage to wash out a lot of the blood by the time you return home, praying your disheveled state can’t be seen with the effort you’ve put in to look presentable. Your worries are put to rest, however, when you realize just how late it’s gotten into the night, as all your companions remain blissfully asleep as you limp into the house, barely able to stand upright.

Everything is a blur. How you managed to fight off a dozen undead is a mystery to you, but it’s not unwelcome. At least there’s nobody here to scold you.

But even that, you realize, is a false sense of security when you sense him from the stairs. You’ve learned not to anticipate any creak in the floorboard when he’s the one pacing on them. Rather, you’ve learned to expect a concerning bloodthirsty presence and two eyes boring into the back of your head as if you’ve grown another head. It eventually becomes easy to sense his aura even from across the living room.

You hope the darkness conceals the bruises on your body. “What do you want?”

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, and it’s not a question. “I could smell it from upstairs.”

A scoff. “What are you? A dog?”

Astarion doesn’t bother responding to your snide comment, coming closer. You can finally see his expression in a daze as he approaches your vicinity. He’s present, but not really, as his focus shifts from you to your hand to your face again repeatedly as if he’s unsure what he’s even doing here.

You’d recognize his mannerisms anywhere.

“Are you drunk?”

“I recall you saying you were visiting the tavern.”

“I was at the tavern.”

He barks a laugh. “My dear, you can tell as many pretty lies to the others but not to me. I can see right through your little game like an open book.”

Curse him.

“I asked you a question first,” you opt to change the subject, remaining firm. “How much did you drink?”

“I didn’t break any rules, as far as I’m aware,” his words slur messily as he leans against the wall, a pink hue spread across his cheeks. “I just drank…a tiny bit more than usual.”

He’s most undoubtedly tipsy, at the very least.

Astarion pushes himself off the wall and toward you, where he squints down at you with what you assume to be some variation of curiosity. His eyes do not hold the usual hostility they usually do, somewhat clouded in a mist of relaxation that’s dangerously close to overflowing. You inch backward.

“Your turn,” he breathes. “Why are you bleeding?”

While you were out risking your life, the bastard must’ve been having the time of his life if the unsteadiness of his steps is any indication. You bite the inside of your cheek bitterly.

“I met Petras just now…more like ambushed, actually,” you respond, pacing the kitchen to wipe off the dirt staining your elbows. You pour yourself a glass of water, but the second it touches your lips, you flinch, the split on your lip still too new to be challenged. So, instead, you set the glass down, eyeing the way he mindlessly stares at you without a thought running through his mind.

Still, he’s giddier than usual, snorting at the state you’re in. “You couldn’t have possibly lost to my brother. He has muscle but barely any wit.”

You remain silent, and his smile grows wider. “Oh! You really let the bastard get away. Well, isn’t this a surprise! Excuse my error; perhaps you aren’t as invincible as I pegged you to be.”

“He caught me off guard.” Hot discomfort courses through your veins.

“Pish posh,” he waves you off, teetering in your direction. “It’s no good if you refuse to admit defeat, my dear. It’ll come back to bite you in the behind later.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes, unmoving from your spot beside the counter as he scrummages around the cabinets for nothing other than the very substance that’s reduced him to this pitiful state. Ironic, you know, considering the tavern had practically been your home only a few months prior. “How did you even get drunk? There isn’t nearly enough blood here for that.”

His face brightens when he finds what he’s been searching for. He uncorks the glass bottle and inhales the stench of blood. While it makes you scrunch your nose, he sighs dreamily, shoulder going slack. “Gale accompanied my hunt again, and I managed to find not one but two bloody bears. One of which was oh so gratefully already wounded. You can be smart when you want to be; I’m sure you can imagine the rest.”

You don’t want to imagine it, actually.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you pluck the bottle from his hands, and his expression immediately falls. He almost looks like a kicked puppy. It makes your chest swell with pride.

“Why? Would you rather I drink from you?” he tries to reach for it, but you step out of the way. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ve already had my fill of exotic blood for tonight. All I need is the dessert to top off the feast I’ve had, and I’ll be satiated for at least a few days.”

You glare at him. “You’re already drunk, you don’t need anymore.”

“But I want more,” he slurs again, and you attempt to move the bottle behind your back, but his hand is already expecting this maneuver. With embarrassing ease, the bottle slips into his grasp, and he takes a long sip of blood while forgetting how you remain caged against the counter, arms blocking any sort of exit you can take to slip away.

You can count his eyelashes from this distance.

He lifts his hand to wipe at his mouth, and much to your relief, you manage to escape the suffocating feeling of being surrounded by him. His scent, his voice, just everything. You close your fists, itching to retreat into the comforts of your own bedroom rather than continue to watch his focus zone in and out until narrowing down on you. “Are you done?”

“Mm, it’s sweet, but not sweet enough. It’s not quite a dessert, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t even like sweet things,” you scoff. You don’t know why you remember this. You shouldn’t remember this. It’s not even your concern anymore.

He stares at you. “I make exceptions.”

Unwillingly to figure out the implications of his words (and whether or not it comes off as a threat), you run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Petras seems hell-bent on kidnapping you.”

“Let him try. The poor fool wouldn’t stand a chance against any of us, much less all of us simultaneously. At least it’ll make for quite a show.”

“And let him kill more people in the process?”

Astarion tilts his head, albeit only slightly. He lacks the usual polish of his charm. “Ah, we couldn’t dare allow a few unlucky souls to perish. It’s not like the inevitable fate of death is waiting for them anyway.”

Sarcasm dripping from his tongue, you decide he’s not nearly sober enough to talk about this. He’s barely keeping himself upright with his arms perched on either side of the counter. He’s close enough that the scent of blood muddles all of your other senses. The softness in his eyes makes you squirm, and the small voice in your head that is your intuition screams for you to get away before…well, you’re not sure what, but it’s what it’s telling you.

“Go to bed,” you order him, though it sounds more like a plea. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“The night’s only begun, though.”

The answer spews out immediately. “I miss to see where that’s my problem.”

Rather than taking offense, he merely smiles. “You’re so harsh to me, love.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the nickname catches you off guard. It’s one he hasn’t called you since…everything. One that you’ve learned to bury into whatever corner you can find in your memories, hoping never to see them again. For a split moment, you can feel your resolve falter. Still, you refuse to show him what a simple word does to you and steel your will to leave this for a proper time when you’re both not nearly delirious. One from blood and the other from a battle.

“I wouldn’t be harsh if you didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m aware.” His voice lowers. “Though I rather like it when you’re cruel to me.”

You blink. 

Has he always looked at you like this?

He’s not just drunk, you reason. He’s completely wasted.

“Astarion,” you lean away. “You’re drunk.”

He ignores your warnings with a click of his tongue. “My mind is clearer than it's ever been after I got that damn parasite out of my head.”

His delirious expression says otherwise.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh irritably. “Whatever game you’re playing, I want none of it. I’m tired, so just leave me be, will you? Get out of my way.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“You’re the one blocking me from leaving!” you fume, pointing at his arm.

“That’s not what I mean. You’re…” he sighs, dropping his head wearily. “…you’re no different than that parasite, come to think of it.”

Appalled, you just gawk at him, jaw agape. “Please tell me I did not just hear you say that.”

He laughs, throwing his head back as he straightens his back. His arms fall back to his side, providing you just enough space to squeeze out of the way, but you find yourself staring up at him as he recollects himself. “It’s rather frustrating. I suppose, at the very least, unlike that worm, you’re a pretty thing to look at.”

What in the hells is going on?

First, he calls you a parasite and then proceeds to flatter you barely two seconds later, having nothing but hazy blurs in that thick skull of his. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to kill you again next. In fact, you think it’s probably best to retreat now when you can—even if he’s gazing down at you as if he expects an answer to his previous statement.

You should leave.

Your legs remain rooted in place.

You should definitely leave.

“Call me that again, and I’ll install bars on your windows,” you grumble, only half meaning it. Mainly because it would be a hassle to build. “Just go, Astarion. I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Convince me.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

“Convince me that you don’t want me here,” he says firmly. “Then I’ll leave.”

Gods, has he lost it?

“Are you serious?”

“Am I ever not? I may deceive you, but I always take you seriously. You must know this.”

Barely stopping yourself from punching that smug smile off his face, your brows furrow. And with gritted teeth, you hiss. “Well, for one, you stink of blood.”

“What a pleasant fragrance indeed.”

“Two,” you continue. “You’re barely standing on both feet, which tells me you aren’t in any position to discuss what I want to right now—which, by the way, is your own damn brother.”

He hums.

“Three, you’re an asshole.”

“Very convincing, darling.”

“So I’ve heard,” you snap, rolling your eyes. “Do I need to say more?”

Astarion steps closer, making your shoulders tense. “Tell me more about how I’m an asshole.”

The blood he drank must contain some sort of drug, surely.

“You leave bottles all over the living room,” you begin, and slowly, the words begin to spill out as if they’ve been waiting to be thrown at him for a while now. “You don’t help clean at all. You make jokes only you find funny. You fight with Shadowheart all the time, and it makes everyone uncomfortable. You walk around at three in the morning and scare the crap out of me just because I wanted some water.”

He nods. “Go on.”

“You’re always sneaking out, even though we tell you not to. You don’t even tell us where you’re going and then get surprised when Lae’zel wants to execute you again! You come home at bizarre times, and the hallway smells like blood all the time, and—and—-” You’re rambling now, you realize, but you’re too exhausted to give a rat’s ass about it. So instead, you push a finger into his chest pointedly, scowling. “---you’re just not pleasant to be around. You’re the biggest asshole I’ve met, and trust me when I’ve met a lot of assholes. I’d rather all of them than you.”

Astarion’s lashes flutter as his gaze flits across your face. “Is that so?”

With narrowed eyes, your fists tighten. “Hells, I don’t even know why I’m here with you because I should’ve been at the tavern sleeping with some other random bastard by now if your damn brother didn’t-”

Suddenly, the breath in your lungs is knocked out as the back of your hips bumps against the counter, knocking over your glass of water.

Before you can discern whatever emotions are being evoked by his lack of awareness, the already minimal distance between the two of you closes as he smashes his lips against yours. It’s harsh. Fueled by hatred, it’s by no means a pleasant show of affection. It burns, sending sparks throughout your entire body as you sink into his touch, feeling the full force of the smallest of movements; he seems dangerously close to what you might describe as desperate.

Unable to fully process what’s happening, you only stand there, stock still.

Your eyes might fall out of its sockets with how wide they are.

He’s kissing you. 

Astarion is kissing you.

And instinctively, your body, if for a split moment, kisses back.

What. The. Fuck.

Thankfully, you’re quick to realize what’s happening, and you abruptly shove him away, stumbling in the process. It seems he’s sobered up on his end because he appears just as shocked as you are, the blood staining his pretty lips being the only proof that the kiss did indeed happen. He blinks rapidly, first trying to take in your expression. You don’t think you’ve seen him this lost in ages. But that's not your concern right now.

He starts. “Darling, I–”

Your fist punches into his stomach, and he reels.

Tags: @ayselluna @littleenglishfangirl @bg3obsessedsideblog @iwillpissyourpants @cyberpr1m3 @snowlotr @road-riot @spacekidnova @madislayyy @lordfishflakes @nicalysm @djarinsway @tinystarfishgalaxy @brainz00 @hopeful-n-sad @ohdeerieme @madisban @chrismarium @chonkercatto @fanfic-share @bitterbeanren @sleepyred1703 @miskouly @ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @marina-and-the-memes @kiwi-mansanas @woosaaghh @cminr @everybodystaycalm @divineknightmare @bangtanbecks @carolinelec @aelieknox @bluelovesleep @catching-fire-in-the-wind @moonlight-stay @thatbeanieboss @atotalmess-lol @lavender-romancer

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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach. 

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments. 

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body. 

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare. 

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it. 

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

__

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away. 

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

__

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress. 

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?” 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle. 

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears. 

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for. 

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

__

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks. 

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered– 

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent. 

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

__

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours. 

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose… 

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you. 

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

[charmandabear]

Yule

Summary:

While snuggling by the Yule fire, you forget just how sensitive elf ears can be.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 2.2k Tags/Warnings: post-game spoilers, cunnilingus, blood drinking, p in v sex, spawn!Astarion, soft!Astarion, fluff and smut, Astarion deserves to be bitten too

Read it on AO3.

Enough people said they'd still be interested in reading holiday-related fics even after the holidays, so here you go! Huge shout-outs to Idylla for their incredible art used in the banner. Their modern!Astarion absolutely ruins me.

Midwinter Nights: Yule | Christmas | New Year's Eve

Astarion curled against you as the Yule fire burned low in the hearth. You knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake all night, despite his insistence to the contrary. It amused you even more because, as an elf, he didn’t really need to sleep. But he had grown so accustomed to it at this point, snuggling up with you each night as you got your mandatory eight hours, it was a harder habit to break. 

You had only just put the most recent batch of cookies in the oven, but you were a little concerned for what would happen when you needed to take them out. Astarion was much like a cat in that way; if he climbed on top of you, it was a crime to disturb him. You could lay there forever, pinned beneath his weight, and you’d thank the gods for it. 

You peered down at him, sleeping so peacefully. He almost looked like a cat, pointy ears occasionally flicking at the warm air that emanated from the fire. You could practically see his tail swishing contentedly. Ever since killing Cazador and reclaiming his freedom, he’d been so drawn to creature comforts, looking for softness and indulgence in all he could find. 

You ran your fingers through his white curls, scratching his scalp absentmindedly. He shifted in his sleep, subconscious nudging him into your touch. You would sit here all night if you could, nails dancing over his pale skin while he slept soundly. You knew that eventually your timer would go off and you would need to take this latest batch of cookies out. But for now, at least, you could just enjoy having him pressed up against your side.

You stared into the fire as your hand wandered, gently stroking his back, his shoulders, his neck. You marveled at how much had changed in these past few months. Karlach and Wyll ventured to Avernus to fight on the front lines of the Blood War, and while you missed them, you knew you were only a ritual away from seeing them at the House of Hope. Gale had gone back to continue his studies in Waterdeep, and Lae’zel found herself living a surprising life of domestic bliss with Shadowheart, newly reunited with her parents. You haven’t heard much from Halsin, Jaheira, or Minsc, but you were certain that they were finding respite wherever they were. 

As you’re getting lost in your thoughts, you stopped paying attention to where your hand flitted across Astarion’s skin; that is, until you heard a breathy moan escape his lips. You looked down and realized that you were running the tip of your pointer around the shell of his ear. You pulled away suddenly, embarrassed as you realized you were basically doing the elf equivalent of teasing his nipples. He whined at the sudden loss of contact, and you sat frozen, unsure if he was awake or not. 

He stirred, legs squirming against a definitive bulge growing in his loose pants. He sat up and blinked sleepily, gears turning as he put together where he was. He turned to you and suddenly his eyes focused, pupils wide like a cat focused on its prey. 

“If you wanted something, you could’ve just asked, you know,” he said in a low purr, and you could feel yourself clench in response to the fire his words stoked deep in your core. 

“Sorry love, it was an accident,” you whispered, trying to sound cool but the crack in your voice gave you away. 

“Accident or no, you’ve made your bed, so I hope you’re ready to lie in it,” he said with a grin, fangs glinting in the firelight. He launched himself onto you, kissing you roughly as he tangled his hands in your hair. You tried to regain your breath as you kissed him back, your hands scrambling for purchase on his clean linen shirt. Your body bent back with the weight of his as he shifted on top of you, prying your legs open with his knee. An unseemly moan escaped your lips as he pressed his hardness right up to the apex of your thighs. You ran your fingers through his hair, though whether it was to regain control or just hang on for dear life, you couldn’t tell. 

Between the heat radiating from the fire, the slight delirium from staying up all night, and the way that your arousal for this man made your head swim, you could barely think straight. He continued to roll his hips into you obscenely, and you could feel the telltale dampness seeping into your small clothes. You spread your legs a little wider, trying to feel that delicious friction through the several layers of fabric that separated you. 

You broke the kiss to take in a gulp of air, beginning to feel a bit lightheaded. His lips migrated to your neck, flicking the tip of his tongue along the puncture wound that had only recently closed up. A shudder surged through your body at the sensation and you squirmed involuntarily, your body urging you closer to his. You rolled your head away from him, presenting your neck as a silent offering as you had so many times before. He needed no further invitation and sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh, your simultaneous groans of pleasure mingling together in your ears. You knew you were courting danger by letting him bite when you were already woozy, but it was worth the risk for the good it did you both. He always became a little more powerful, a little more dominant right after drinking your blood; for you, the feeling of him siphoning just a little of your life force away gave you an unmatched feeling of ecstasy.

He detached himself from your neck and looked down at you, panting. The sight of him post-feeding always sent you into a frenzy. His cheeks and ears uncharacteristically flushed, his bloody lips in a sedate half-smile, hair a tousled mess, and a wild look in his eyes like he was ready to devour you. You could only imagine what he saw in return; your hair splayed out beneath you, eyes glassy, mouth open in a suspended moan as blood trickled down your neck.

He ran a hand down the front of your blouse and you arched your back to meet his touch. He was still pressed between your legs, your knees hooked around his waist. He ran a finger along the waistband of your pants, causing you to whine needily.

“Tell me what it is you want, pet,” he purred, the predatory cat out in full force. Your hips bucked up against him as you grasped at the rug beneath you. He looked so gorgeous in the orangey firelight, his skin soft and glowy. You pawed wantonly at the hem of his shirt, any semblance of speech leaving your body. He grabbed your flailing wrists and pinned them above your head, bringing his lips within an inch of yours.

“Your words, love. Tell me what you want,” he growled, a little more forcefully than before, eliciting another desperate mewl. 

“Ah- I.. Astarion,” you pled with him and he grinned, fangs pressing into your lips.

“Yes?” The word was a breathless whisper. He looked down the length of his nose at you, crimson eyes piercing into you.

“I want you to taste me,” you squeaked out, writhing beneath the hard length of his body. He pressed his lips to your ear just as he pressed his erection into your mound.

“Good girl,” he hissed, and pushed off your chest to slink downward to your hips. He grabbed your waistband and slid your pants down over your ass, dragging his cool hands across your heated skin. He pressed his lips into your hip and you arched into him, yearning to feel him on every inch of you. Your skin prickled from the heat of the fire, his contrasting touch making you shiver. 

He traveled downward, each kiss pulling a new and more debaucherous sound from your throat. His lips hovered above yours and he relished in making you twitch with need. After a second of teasing that felt like an eternity, he swiped his tongue along your slit and you groaned in relief. He dug his fingers into your thighs as he gently lapped at your folds, making you feel more heated with each pass. He spread your lips apart with his dexterous fingers, tracing lazy shapes with the tip of his tongue.

Your fingers curled into his hair once more, hoping to regain control of your cantering hips. He pushed his tongue deeper into you and your breath grew ragged, your hips begging to fully fuck his face. He relented to your control, letting you grind on his lips and tongue to chase your own satisfaction. Your cries grew in tandem with the pressure that mounted in your core, and this time when your hands wandered to stroke his ears, it was intentional. He moaned into your cunt, a deep, primal sound that sent vibrations directly to your clit, sending you over the edge. He buried his face into you as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, thighs squeezing around his head.

He pulled away once the pulses had subsided and you delighted to see his disheveled face, your juices reflecting in the firelight. He roughly pulled you up onto his lap, pulling your still sensitive swell down hard onto his erection. You moaned into his lips, sharing the taste of you with him.

“You saucy little minx,” he growled even as you could feel his smile through the kiss. Your fingers fumbled at his waistband, desperate to free him and feel him inside you. He peeled your blouse over the top of his head just as you released his cock from his trousers, tip already glistening with precum. Your breath hitched at the sight of it, your pussy already aching to be filled.

The length of his cock teased your folds, and he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, the pad of his thumb skating over the pert nipple. You threw your head back, raising your tits up with a heaving breath just so he could latch on with his mouth, suckling gently. Your arms around his neck, you danced your fingers close to his ear, teasing him as much as you were asking him for more. He pulled off your nipple with a pop and stared red hot daggers into you.

“Careful love. Mess with the cat and get the claws,” he warned in a low and dangerous whisper. He raised your hips up and pulled you down in one fell stroke onto his stiffened cock. The cry he tore out of you was your most obscene yet, but you were already so wet and hungry for him that you slid down to his base without resistance.

You began to ride his dick, your knees pressing against the floor as he stretched you out with every thrust. Now it was his turn to toss his head back, leaving his pale throat open and vulnerable. You sunk your teeth into the cold flesh, your dull human incisors not actually piercing skin, but eliciting a delicious groan from him nonetheless. He kept his hands squarely on your hips as you bounced up and down, relishing the slide of him along your inner walls.

You wanted to see him lose himself in you. You wanted him to come undone like you were. You needed more of those breathy moans in your ear as he unleashed the predator within.

You nipped at his earlobe.

Almost as though an external force possessed his body, he slammed you down onto your back without pulling out of you. He pushed your knees up to your ears and pounded into you forcefully, the edge of your second orgasm rapidly approaching. Your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts, and it took everything in your power to keep your eyes open so you could watch him unravel above you. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his red eyes looked down on you, positively feral. You could see his fangs through the soft o-shape his mouth formed as he came, his orgasm sending you crashing into yours. You could still feel his cock throbbing inside you with each burst of his seed even as your vision slowly faded into black.

You awoke a few moments later curled up on some pillows and a cool washcloth laid across your forehead. Next to you was a glass of water which you gulped down eagerly.

Astarion came back into the room, face still looking deliciously flushed and bitten, with a small plate of cookies. He kneeled down next to you and held one up to your lips, and you accepted the snack without hesitation. He pulled the washcloth from your forehead and kissed your cool damp skin, his lips almost warm in comparison.

“Love, you can't scare me like that. I thought I fucked you into a coma. If you're feeling unwell, say something,” he said, red eyes full of concern. You wave it off with a shrug.

“What can I say? Maybe I like messing with the cat,” you respond with a giggle as you bite down on your cookie, teeth bared playfully.

[nyrandrea]

You have very good writing and I think you really do comfort fics well! So I was wondering if you could write a fic with Astarion where the Tav he is trying to seduce has like major self esteem issues. Like they kind laugh at his attempts to compliment them. But at first it seems like a joke until he realizes that Tav isn't joking about it and he tries to help them see they are beautiful. (this is one of my fav prompts to give people ngl)

Thank you so much! This is a lovely prompt and I hope I did it some justice! :)

Word Count - 2k

Enjoy!

xxx

As the storm clouds gathered ominously on the horizon, you and your party found yourselves on a desolate, rain-soaked road in the middle of nowhere. The relentless downpour had turned the earth into a sea of mud, and the wind howled like a vengeful spirit. 

Your clothes were soaked through, and faces were etched with exhaustion and desperation. With each step, your boots sank into the muck, making the journey even more arduous. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a menacing reminder that you had to find shelter soon. 

“Ugh, there’s probably some saying about rainbows after the storm and whatnot,” Astarion said, holding a rucksack over his head in a failing attempt to save his hair. “But I’d much rather not be out in the middle of one.” 

“Ah, it’s not so bad, just think of it as a long overdue shower,” Gale said. “And the saying is ‘Don’t fear the storm, for the rainbow is never far behind!’” 

“Oh yes, that’s the one,” the vampire drawled.  “I’ll rest so much better now that you have enlightened me.” 

Amid the pelting rain, you spotted a faint glimmer of light in the distance. With newfound hope, you quickened your pace and beckoned the others to follow. As you trudged closer, the light revealed itself to be a cozy inn, nestled among ancient trees that shielded it from the worst of the storm. 

“Thank the Gods,” Karlach breathed. “If I got any more drenched, my engine would have snuffed out.” 

“Wouldn’t that solve your problem, then?” Lae’zel snidely chimed in, only to hiss when you elbowed her. 

The inn's windows emitted a warm, inviting glow, and the scent of wood smoke and hearty meals wafted through the air. Your tired body yearned for a meal and a warm bed, mindflayer tadpoles be damned. 

“Have we got enough gold to stay here? I mean, for everyone to have a room?” Shadowheart asked. 

“We should do,” you said, pulling out the team’s shared coin pouch. “I sold that egg we uh... found.” 

“You mean the one we stole after we killed its mother?” Wyll asked, clear disdain lacing his voice. 

“It’s not technically stealing if the target is dead,” Astarion cheerfully chimed in. “Besides, we rescued the other one, didn’t we? One good turn deserves another.” 

Wyll grimaced. “Your idea of virtue is a damn twisted one.” 

“Aw, you love me really,” the vampire teased back. 

“Here we are!” you announced as you reached the inn's doorstep, you were greeted by the innkeeper, whose eyes twinkled with the knowledge that you had nowhere else to go for the night. After taking payment, he ushers you inside, where a crackling fireplace cast a comforting light over the room, he takes your belongings up to your rooms with the help of Wyll and a begrudging Astarion. 

Finding a long wooden table in the corner of the room, the group sat together, their spirits lifted by the fact that they were safe from the fury of the storm outside, at least for one night. The innkeeper, his apron stained with years of hospitality, served you a hearty meal of roasted meats, fresh bread, and stew. 

You listened to the rain's rhythmic drumming on the inn's thatched roof, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for having found refuge in this little hidden haven. With a deep, contended sigh, you tucked into your meal, savouring every bite.

At least, you were trying to. 

“You better eat up,” Astarion teased, lacing his fingers together as he rested his chin upon them to watch you. “Because I plan on doing just that very soon.” 

“Crap,” you mumbled between mouthfuls. “Are you hungry? Why didn’t you say so?” 

“Oh, am I hungry,” he smirked. “Just not for blood.” 

You almost choked, but you masked it well with a nervous chuckle. He wasn’t... flirting with you, was he? You had always been bad at picking up signals, not that you received them often. 

‘Nah,’ you thought. He couldn’t be, not when there were so many other better-looking people, at this table alone, that he could choose from. 

“Well, I know you’re not craving my charming banter.” 

“Oh no, something far better.” 

Now you really were at a loss. 

“Do you... need to borrow my hair comb again?” 

“I mean sex, darling.” 

This time you couldn’t hide the choke, but you were more afraid of dying from embarrassment than anything else. 

“What?” 

The deafening silence that had befallen the table was broken by a low whistle from Karlach. 

“The direct approach, I can respect that, mate.” 

“Direct? I’ve been trying to drop hints for weeks now but perhaps a little more serenading is needed,” he looked you up and down with a knowing smile; he had hooked you, now it was time to reel you in. 

“Darling,” Astarion began softly, his voice a gentle caress, “when I look into your eyes, I see galaxies of beauty and depth that defy description. It’s as if the universe itself painted them with the colours of a thousand sunsets.” 

A faint blush tinged your cheeks as you lowered your eyes, unsure of where to look. Astarion reached out and gently lifted your chin, so your eyes met once more. 

“And your smile,” he continued, “it’s like a radiant sunbeam on even the cloudiest day. It has the power to brighten my world in an instant.” 

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Karlach said, fanning herself. “You’re even making me blush!” 

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you burning any hotter now,” Gale smiled, though it was strained. He looked almost as uncomfortable as you felt. 

“Your kindness,” Astarion went on, “it knows no bounds. You have a heart that’s more expansive than the ocean, and it’s a privilege to be the one you’ve chosen to share it with.” 

“Bah!” Lae’zel practically spat. “These nonsensical attempts at beguiling are a waste of time, why waste your energy talking when you can claim and dominate each other instead?” 

You were hard-pressed to agree with Lae’zel on this one. Well, except maybe for that last part. 

“Alright, you can stop now,” you said. 

“Not until you’re convinced,” Astarion replied, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “How about this? You are a masterpiece in a world of art,” The vampire flamboyantly declared, his gaze unwavering. “Your uniqueness, your quirks, your imperfections – they all make you the incredible person I fell in love with. You’re not just enough; you’re more than I ever dreamed of.” 

You roll your eyes. “Gods, you know you don’t have to keep practising the fancy fake flattery on me, right? I know it’s all like a big joke to you but enough is enough, eh?” 

Astarion finally pulls back and frowns at you, not in that puppy-pout way when he didn’t get what he wanted, but in a way that he looked genuinely offended. 

“You think I’m joking?” 

“I... uh,” you stutter, suddenly flustered.  

“My compliments aren’t fake, darling. Decorative, perhaps, but you do know I mean every word, don’t you?” 

“Pfft,” you try to wave him off nonchalantly, but your quivering voice betrays you. “No, you don’t. It’s... it’s all just a bit of fun, r-right?” 

“Perhaps I should be a bit blunter then,” Astarion said, leaning forward ever so slightly, his expression serious and scarlet eyes piercing into you. “You’re... beautiful.” 

You swear you could feel something just break inside you in that moment.

A tentative smile, like a fragile flower pushing through the cracks of self-doubt, graced your lips, but it wilted in the harsh light of scrutiny. A tight knot formed within your throat as everyone stared at you in anticipation. What were you supposed to say? Thank you? That you were grateful for the shower of compliments from Astarion, this... gorgeous man, because you sure as hell didn’t deserve them? 

“I’m a little tired,” you suddenly say, your chair scraping the floor with a shrill screech as you quickly stand up. “Excuse me.” 

Leaving their concerned calls behind you, you made your way up the stairs of the tavern and into the hallway leading to the rooms. The innkeeper had allocated them, but he’d neglected to say which one was which, so you merely picked the first door you could get your hands on. 

It wasn’t until you slammed the door shut and leaned your back against it that you realised that you picked the wrong bloody one. 

The room was large and luxurious, the centrepiece was an ornate, four-poster bed adorned with rich, crimson drapes that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight and crisp, white linens, neatly turned down. An old, familiar skull-faced tome laid face up, its amethyst eyes staring ominously at the ceiling. 

It seemed that someone got first dibs on the rooms, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who. 

‘Shit,’ you curse to yourself, scrambling for the doorknob. ‘Maybe I can get out before he-’ 

As soon as you open the door, Astarion is already right there, his hand raised into a fist. 

“Knock-knock?” he says, giving you a tentative smile. 

“S-sorry, must have gotten a little mixed-up.” 

“That’s quite alright, dear,” his tone is too soft for your liking, as if he feared offending you in any way. 

“Right, well,” you strain a smile and edge around him to get to the hallway. “Goodnight.” 

“Wait,” he catches you by the arm. “Come back in, won’t you?” 

You squint at him suspiciously. 

“To talk, darling. Nothing else, not if you don’t want to.” 

Gods know that you wanted to, you were just... surprised that he did. 

As you re-enter the room, you notice a small, antique writing desk nestled by a leaded glass window. A vase of freshly picked wildflowers graced the wooden surface, infusing the room with their sweet fragrance. 

Astarion caught your stare. “Ah, unfortunately I have run out of perfume to mask my er... musk. So, I had to improvise.” 

“It’s nice,” you remark, the tight knot in your throat making it hard to speak. 

“Well, I should hope so. They are your favourite after all, are they not?” 

A surge of guilt jabbed through your chest, you had occasionally stopped on the road to admire the flowers; their colours, their scent was intoxicating to you. Had he been observing you even back then? 

You didn’t know what to say, words were always tempered by hesitation, their resonance dulled by the fear of judgment. Each sentence was punctuated by apologies, as if you believed your very existence owed the world an explanation. Confidence always remained just beyond your reach, an oasis in the desert of your own mind. 

Astarion sat on the bed and patted the empty spot next to him; you silently took the invitation. 

“I would like to... apologise for earlier. Making you uncomfortable was never my intent, I...” he paused, his eyes flickering over you. “I just wasn’t sure how much clearer I could make it to you.” 

“That you... like me?” 

“Like you?” Astarion took your hands and squeezed them. “I adore you. Everything about you, all that you do is... nothing short of breathtaking.” 

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over your cheeks like the gentlest rain, your trembling shoulders burdened by the weight of your emotions 

“I’m sorry if you don’t hear this enough but... I wish to change that. You really are, truly, beautiful.” 

The tears flowed freely then, your sobs echoing in the stillness of the night. Astarion gathered you in his arms, a silent pillar of support. His hand, cool and reassuring, gently cradled your trembling one, his thumb grazing back and forth over your knuckles. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his words a gentle caress. “Let it out, darling.” 

Astarion’s presence felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven in the storm of emotions. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or rushed advice. Instead, he listened, letting you pour your bottled emotions out, allowing it to find solace in his quiet understanding. 

With each tear that fell, Astarion’s touch remained steady, unwavering. 

As the night wore on, you found yourself nestled into his side as you lay together on top of the covers, your head tucked into his shoulder while he stared up at the ceiling. He turns his head briefly to kiss your forehead, and in that sacred space, amid the tears and whispered sorrows, you found solace, strength, and perhaps the willingness to accept that, in your own way, you are beautiful. 

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to rescue you from kidnappers

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

The Devil You Know - A.A.

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader (Mephistopheles Tiefling! Raphael’s Daughter)

Warnings: Abandonment by parent, implied loss of parent, BG3 Spoilers (set sometime in Act 2), Angst, Conflict/Yelling/Disagreement between Tav & Astarion, Past Trauma, Not Proofread

Wordcount: 1,364

Summary: You are Raphael’s daughter, who he disowned for her good nature. You are abducted from Baldur’s Gate and receive a tadpole in your head. You have bonded with Astarion, but you are not about to let him ask your father for help.

A/N: Requested by anon! I loved loved loved this prompt so so so much God! Thank you for requesting this, I loved writing it! Also, I did some research as to what race Tav would end up being. From what I understand, if Raphael (Cambion) had a child with a human, it would be either a Tiefling or a Cambion?? (Still really muddy for me) Therefore, Tav/Reader is a Tiefling for the sake of this story, and to make the fact that she is “good” more realistic. There will definitely be a part two of this (with substantial fluff, maybe even smut).

It had been years since you had spoken to your father. He was on the verge of abandoning you when your mother gave birth to you, a Tiefling. Raphael would have preferred you to be a Cambion, as he was. You still had similar appearance like he flourished, but you showed an innocence that juxtaposed his own behaviors. He tolerated your presence for a while, but the time came when he was unable to process you frolicking through fields of flowers, basking in the sunshine, the pure happiness that radiated from you. He tried to destroy everything you loved: the flowers, the light. And yet, you were still happy.

He hated it.

He dropped you off at the orphanage at once, you were maturing, but not fast enough for him. That, and he practically despised you. Perhaps, for what Raphael himself lacked. However, who ever claimed that devils were self-aware was definitely a devil themselves.

You spent much of your childhood wondering what you did to deserve to be dropped off at the orphanage that day. The truth was you didn’t. You didn’t deserve to be abandoned by your father. You were just too dissimilar, and that was something Raphael couldn’t handle. You spent a bit of your upbringing attempting to enhance your magical skills, your father had rescinded the vast majority of your abilities upon plopping you at the door of the orphanage with no explanation. However, you were able to regain a lot through your studies in Candlekeep. You were a bookworm, and you loved learning, not only that but you had an innate proficiency with arcana. You became well-versed in magic, but you didn’t know that your adventures had yet to begin.

You had a tadpole placed in your head, and suddenly you felt a kind of freedom you hadn’t felt previously. Then, you were able to escape, with the help of your Githyanki “friend” (you had grown closer over time, she could tolerate you now) Lae’zel. You recruited Shadowheart, Astarion, and Gale along the way. Later on, you met Wyll and Karlach. Karlach was most similar to yourself, being a Zariel Tiefling. Her skin was darker than yours, warmer, but if a stranger met you two they would have thought you sisters.

One person that you didn’t think you would bond with was Astarion. Astarion had his walls up very high from the very beginning, but something within you tore them down. Maybe it was your giddiness, or your general inexperience, but he felt the need to protect you, in a sense. Sure, you had fucked up in battle more times than they all could count, but you tried your hardest, anytime you misfired a spell you would study it over and over again with Gale until you could do it right 100% of the time.

You were perplexed on how you bonded more with Astarion than Gale, but the further you dug with Astarion the more you wanted to know. You had slept together a few times; little did you know that Astarion mostly pursued you for his own gain. He figured that if he got on the good side of the fearless, well-liked leader, she and the rest of the party wouldn’t turn on him. What Astarion didn’t realize was that he didn’t have to sleep with you to get on your good side. He just simply had to be him. You enjoyed his sass, his quips, the bantering that he tried to pursue with you. It never lasted long, which invigorated him, you were simply too easy going. A lover, rather than a fighter.

You were like a ray of sunshine. If he could, Astarion would douse himself in your rays every moment. Similarly to his newfound love for basking in the sun, you were intoxicating to him. Astarion hadn’t met many people who glowed as you did. Ironically, your contrasted, dark correspondent, your father, Raphael, had been following you and your crew around for the past few weeks. Of course, given the whole tadpole situation, the group reeked of desperation. And devils loved desperation. Desperation would lead to deals.

You were adamant that that would not be occurring.

It became evident, one night, that Astarion would be pushing you on that boundary. Astarion’s former master, Cazador,  had written a piece of infernal text on his back. You didn’t think much of it until Astarion became fixated on it one night. You could tell him what it said, but that would mean releasing the information that you were indeed Raphael’s daughter to the rest of the party, which you would have preferred not to do.

This, in itself, was a big step for Astarion. Talking about his past, his troubles, all of it. He felt comfortable around you, perhaps partially because you had shared so little with him regarding your past. You analyzed the scars on his back, running your fingertips over them as you did. “So, darling?” He inquired, pondering if you had an answer for him.

“I can tell you its written in infernal” you spoke simply, only giving him a glimpse into the answer he truly wanted. You bent down on the ground, drawing it on the sand for him, “here.” “I’ve never seen it before” Astarion spoke, and you nodded. “Infernal, you say?” He questioned again, as if an idea was coming to mind. You gestured in approval yet again.

“Darling, thank you. I believe we need to seek out Raphael, that devil who has been creeping on us the past few weeks. I bet he could tell us the meaning of the scars Cazador left on me.”

“Astarion, you can’t possibly be serious. Raphael is a devil. Devils always require a deal, and there is always a catch. You can’t pay that price.” You argued. You had wanted to do something nice for Astarion, given the horrific situation, but you knew one thing for sure. You would not be approaching your father for anything, not even over your own dead body.

“Darling, please. I’m not stupid. I need to know what these marks on me say, and Raphael can do that for me. We can adjust the pricing, I’m sure. You’re just inexperienced.” He quipped, and you gasped at his remark.

“We are not talking to Raphael, and that is final, Astarion.” You were worked up now, Astarion could see it. Gods, even the owlbear across camp half asleep could see it.

“It’s not your decision to make, Tav. It’s mine. If I want to make a deal with the devil, so be it. You can stay out of it.” From across camp, you could hear both Wyll and Karlach trying to intervene and talk some sense into Astarion. He wouldn’t take it anymore. He was his own person, and he could make his own decisions outside of what Cazador – or anyone else – decided for him. You looked at Astarion with glistening eyes, on the verge of tears. He knew he had hurt you, as well as hurt his position with you. But part of him didn’t care anymore about that.

“You’re just too naïve” he spat, and with that, a Barbarian-like rage emanated from you, your typical glow radiated into a powerful force that was nearly too much for Astarion. Your eyes were glowing most prominently, your hands formed into tight fists, and your teeth gnawed against one another. “You want to know what the damned scars say, Astarion?! Do you!?” Astarion, for the first time in weeks, was mildly scared for his life.

He nodded ever so gently, careful not to push you further. “It’s a contract. One between Cazador and Mephistopheles. The rite of profane ascension to a fate similar to godhood, but for vampires. He needs seven thousand souls, and you’re one of them.” Astarion had to bite back a chuckle. You had to be kidding him, right? This was a joke. Right?

“I’m dead fucking serious Astarion.” Your eyebrows were shifted downward, reciprocating your tone of voice.

“How would you know?” He quipped, anxious to break the pattern of seriousness and – perhaps lies that you were spreading. He didn’t want it to be true.

“I’m Raphael’s daughter."

Part Two is now out! Read it here.

[tadpolebrains]

With patch 6 giving us new kissing animations, I’d like to present:

Companion Hugs

Because we deserve a hug update.

“Can I have a hug?”

Gale buries his head into your shoulder, inhaling deeply. He wants to get lost in your warmth, feel completely surrounded by you. His hands grip firmly at your waist, or his arms will sling around you snugly. If you ask for a hug during a moment where you need comfort, he’ll instead take a hand and cradle the back of your head, guiding it down to rest against his shoulder, fingers woven into your hair. His other arm wraps around you, hand settling between your shoulder blades. When you go to pull away, he’ll pull you back in for a moment, letting your foreheads rest against each other for a few moments of silent understanding before letting you go.

Astarion doesn’t understand exactly what to do at first. Hugging isn’t something he’s used to. I’d imagine in-game, act 2 hugging animations would be a bit stiff and awkward. Slightly uncertain pats on the back, not knowing when to pull away. But being unable to drop the lingering smile on his lips afterwards. By act 3, he’s more used to it. Less hesitant in pulling you in. Will even nuzzle into your neck- not even to bite, but because he knows you trust him not to bite unless given permission. It’s rare for that kind of trust to be extended, and it warms his undead heart to have it.

Wyll likes fully leaning against you, your chests flush against each other, lightly swaying back and forth, almost as if you’re slow-dancing. One of your foreheads rests against the other’s chest, or perhaps an ear over the other’s heart so you can hear the heartbeat. He hums lightly, some random tiny tune that is sometimes a known song, and sometimes something random. Going to him for comfort will get you a gentler embrace, a hand rubbing along your back.

Karlach gives the best fucking hugs. This woman is taking every excuse to hug you as soon as she gets her engine fixed. They can range from strong, excited hugs that lift you off the ground to soft, tender ones where she just surrounds you with her heat like a heated blanket, tail curling around your legs just to keep you a little bit closer. She loves nuzzling her nose into your hair, feeling the softness against her cheek. Platonically or romantically, she’ll also give little kisses on your forehead and cheek, just as an extra show of affection. She doesn’t really do quick hugs unless she really has to- ask her for a hug, and you’re getting at least a solid minute. At least. If you need comforting, that minimum time extends.

Lae’zel doesn’t understand it at first. You… want to trap her against you? Is this some sort of battle maneuver, or a show of dominance? She doesn’t see the point of it until you mention someone else in camp gives ‘the best hugs.’ Well, clearly she must be the best at this ‘hugging’ of yours. Once she either watches you do it with someone else or demonstrate for her, she seems to take it as a personal challenge. Will squeeze you tightly against her. Tight, crushing hugs that you feel like could break a rib. If you two are close and you go to her for comfort, she might just let you squeeze her tighter than she squeezes you. Just this once.

Shadowheart isn’t as eager to hug at first; not under Shar, at least. She prides herself on her self-control and independence, and doesn’t see hugging as something she needs. If you ask her for one while she’d still under Shar and you’re close, she’ll do it for your sake, and hate that she likes it so much. Denies it. Doesn’t want to come to rely on it. But once she starts coming into her own, she begins accepting the hugs, even letting herself enjoy them. She’s a gentle hugger, loosely wrapping her arms around you and letting her eyes slip closed, enjoying the moment.

Halsin is literally a bear. Bear hugs, all day. Will scoop you up in his arms and hold you tightly so you feel that nothing could possibly harm you while in his arms. The muscles combined with that softness is perfect hug material. If you need comfort, he’s your man. Comforting hugs from him can feel almost paternal, and he’ll make sure to reassure you that the want for touch is entirely natural. It’s a human need, and you should never be ashamed of giving into your natural urges. Those large hands rub along your back and twirl your hair, grounding you in the moment.

[teaffrogy]

Hi! I saw you were looking for ideas so I'm going to submit a couple if that's okay! Feel free to ignore if not lol

First idea is for Gale (he needs more attention in this fandom!!) Tav who's kind but completely oblivious when it comes to flirting getting hit on and just not picking up on it, how would Gale react or not react? Would his reaction be different if he saw it from afar, up close, or just heard about it? Can be pre-relationship or during :)

Second idea can be for any or all companions (personally tho I think it'd be interesting for astarion, halsin, and gale) Their reactions (separate) to Tav realizing there's mutual attraction so they take them aside and nervously confess that they're asexual and would understand if they don't want to be partners after knowing this about them and that they wanted to tell them before things got serious.

Sorry for rambling in your inbox but I hope this was atleast somewhat helpful :D

Omg yes both I love sm omggg okay imma work on one first then the other. And I totally agree! Gale deserves more attention! I adore that man sm😭❤️ also so sorry it took me a while I have been taking care of my cat who got surgery

Oblivious Tav

Gale x Reader(Tav)

I honestly believe Gale immediately Knew Tav was super oblivious to people Flirting on them And he first found out About it when Lae'zel made the first move. Instead of falling for her words, you just gave her a puzzled look. “I'm sorry Lae’zel. I don't want to fight with you.”

The second time he saw it was with Astarion at The tiefling party. Of course he put his Vampiric charms on you but it just flew past you. And Astarion had this look on his face that made Gale burst out laughing. Some of the tieflings gave him a puzzled look.

Another interaction was when a tiefling was flirting with you. She rubbed your hand up and down softly that he himself even felt the shivers. She had tried to tell Tav how gorgeous they are and how even better they would look under her. But that left you confused. “Why do you want me to lay down?”

Like always, he found it funny because what you say and the other is the person's reaction. But Gale wouldn't lie, he had fallen in love with you the day he taught you how to cast spells just so you could feel what he feels, the magic of it. It was just the way your eyes shined as you looked around you. The moment you Two had made him realize how much he wanted you in his life, read a book beside you, be on his balcony, have a cup of tea or coffee, whatever you like to drink! And just read a book with you, watch the sunset, see the boats sail away, watch the waves of the sea. And just be with you. He loves you.

After that, he did try to make some moves.

Gale didn't know if he should feel bad or

embarrassed for you.

No matter how many times he tries to flirt, it simply just flies Over your head. You two were in the shadowlands and he took so much time and dedication to say those words to you that it simply flew past you. Astarion couldn't help but let a Laugh. Shadowheart was holding hers in. He knew you were obviously but not that much!

He tried it again, a small pick up line and you just stared at him and gods he loves you but oh my god he also is embarrassed when you simply don't get it. He had to actually say those three words.

“What I am trying to say is that I am in love with you. I love you.” Gale says and your eyes go wide at those words. “And I have been trying to make you get the hints that I am really in love with you but it just flies by you. I was thinking it was the tadpole wiggling those words out but that's just how you are.” He says and you feel embarrassed. “Oh.” You say and Gale holds your hands. “I'm in love with you Tav.” and he brings your hands close to his lips, kisses each one hand and looks up at you. “I love you too Gale.” You say and he's more than happy to hear those Words come out.

And even now that you two are together, it simply flies by you. From times you do get his little pick up lines, but there are those other times where it flies by.

But Gale loves that about Tav and finds it cute.

[vampiric-hunger]

⊱─ 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕪 (𝕚 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦) ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Astarion x gn!reader

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - T, just fluff, we're getting slightly sappy in this one

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Ketheric Thorm defeated, Isobel and Aylin reunited, all of this and more are worth celebrating over. and Aylin makes sure that everyone knows that tonight you're drinking to victory, to goodness and love triumphing. so when everyone returns to Last Light Inn, you realize this is a good chance to show Astarion that he matters to you, even if he's not the biggest fan of poetry.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2,421

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: happy valentine's day and happy reading, with much love from me to you all <3

written for Baldur's Date challenge on AO3

As you stood there, drenched in blood and bruised, wounded even, you watched Aylin embrace Isobel with love, you watched them kiss. And you felt Astarion’s hand in yours, squeezing gently. You didn’t look at him because you didn’t need to. You knew what he was thinking by this simple touch alone. A touch like so many others that you two shared so far, touches meant to express things when others are watching, when saying words is not the time or the place.

Touches…

His cold hand in yours, slightly slippery from blood but still needed. Astarion’s thumb brushed the side of your hand and you squeezed his fingers in turn. The scene unfolding in front of you and your party most likely filled almost everyone with warmth.

What it’s like to be reunited with your lover after so long? And after going through so much? Your heart ached at the thought of losing Astarion like this. Just as you have found him, to lose him so profoundly. You squeezed his fingers harder, desperate to feel his presence, to assure yourself it was not a dream, and got a squeeze in return.

No, he was here, he was not going anywhere. You hoped it will be like this forever.

“My friends!” Aylin suddenly announced, interrupting your thoughts before they started spiraling. “Me and my beloved, finally reunited! We need to celebrate! Celebrate victory. Celebrate evil defeated. Celebrate love!” aasimar’s voice boomed through the hall of Moonrise Towers, making everyone present listen.

“Yes. Let’s go back to Last Light Inn. We all deserve a happy moment.” Isobel chimed in and her words were greeted with cheers.

So now that you look around the Inn and see everyone sharing drinks, chatting, laughing even, you realize how easy it is to forget the most important thing – you all survived. You lived. When so many didn’t. This is something truly worth celebrating.

Earlier you and Astarion found two stools somehow unoccupied while the tiefling children serve drinks from behind the counters. Alfira is playing a melody you don’t recognize and Wyll is trying to teach Lae’zel to dance which doesn’t seem to go very well, judging from expression on her face and Wyll’s sweaty forehead. To the right you see Jaheira being absolutely bombarded with questions by Karlach while Halsin is nodding his head patiently, pouring some beer for the three of them. In the small nook just to the right of the main room, you catch a glimpse of Gale, goblet in hand, petting His Majesty and speaking to the cat, but he’s too far and the chatter is too loud for you to hear what he’s murmuring to the feline. When you scan the room once more you finally notice Shadowheart talking to Art Cullagh and you have a suspicion she’s trying to make him share his experiences in Shadowfell.

At least everyone looks to be happy, you think to yourself with a smile.

“Look at them.” you suddenly hear Astarion speak to your right and you look at him. You both managed to clean up more or less after the battle with Ketheric Thorm, but you still notice some streaks of blood in your partner’s hair. You will have to help him wash it out later.

“Look at who exactly?” you tilt your head inquisitively and Astarion’s eyes meet yours for a brief moment before they return onto the crowd.

“All of them.” he gestures with his free hand because in the other he’s holding a metal cup of wine, same as you.

“And what I’m supposed to be seeing?” you look at the people. A mix of tieflings, your companions, newly met friends and allies. What are you missing?

“They are happy.” Astarion says and you look back at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Shouldn’t they be?” you ask and vampire looks at you, giving you a smirk.

“That’s not what I’m trying to say, darling.” he pauses to drink from his cup and leans a little closer to you. “We made this possible. You made this possible.” Astarion says and you press your lips into a thin line before you answer.

“No. It wasn’t just me. We all did it. As a team. And don’t forget, you’re part of that team.” you smile now, drinking your wine as well and Astarion leans back, eyebrow lifted.

“Maybe so. But who would’ve bothered to save these… these poor souls if not for you and your big heart.” he comments, making you roll your eyes. Of course he has to say something like that, as if not wanting to leave a trail of bodies in your wake is somehow a cardinal sin.

Ever since he told you he has feelings for you, ever since you both agreed to give this relationship a try, Astarion’s been acting as if you’re nice just to everyone. As if he’s not special, as if your desire to be with him is just a passing fancy. And for a while you didn’t know how to make him see the truth – that you do have feelings for him. True and genuine feelings. But soon you realized that you will just have to be patient with him. And show him that you want him because of who he is and not because you supposedly like everyone you meet.

Maybe today is another chance to show him just how serious you are about him.

“I just don’t like the smell of corpses.” you reply, making Astarion smile.

“Then what are you doing with me?” he jabs back and your face flushes.

Generally he would argue with anyone who told him he smells in any other way than pleasant but recently he started to joke about himself and only in your presence. Seeing him open up, become more comfortable with you, it warms your heart. But you’re not going to let this distract you.

“Oh shut up, you smell just fine. When you bathe.” you give him a pointed look and Astarion gasps in mock-offense, his fingers pressed against his chest as if you have insulted him beyond reason.

“Darling, I’m hurt. I try to bathe at least every ten-day.”

You laugh loudly and Astarion’s expression softens. He successfully made you laugh and he knows he will never tire from making you laugh and making you happy, if he can.

“Shut up.” you giggle when your laughter lessens and he nods his head gracefully. Then you clear your throat. You were never good at romantic gestures but you have to at least try. “Do you mind if we go for a walk? I feel like I could use some fresh air.”

“As if any air is fresh in these cursed lands, but alright.” Astarion looks at you curiously, like he’s trying to pry into your mind and detect if something is bothering you.

“Oh you know what I mean.” you slip off your stool and put away the cup.

Astarion follows your lead, echoing your movements and when for a moment your eyes meet his, you nod and start walking out of the Inn.

Nobody seems to be paying attention that you and the vampire are excusing yourselves from the main celebration. You just notice two things before you exit the building: Gale now has His Majesty sleeping in his cross-legged lap and Lae’zel is teaching Wyll how to stab someone. You deduct this from how she’s holding a dagger and twisting it in the air.

“They surely are having fun.” Astarion murmurs and you pause for a moment to see Karlach putting her arm around Halsin’s shoulders, trying to do same to Jaheira, only for the older woman to lean back with her hands raised in defense. But there’s smiles on their faces, all three of them.

You smile too but walk out. Outside there’s Harpers celebrating. Bex and Danis are holding hands and whispering to each other. Dammon is talking to Quartermaster Talli. In short – everyone is happy, friendly and maybe just a little bit intoxicated because Mattis somehow found an entire basement room filled with quite nicely aged wine.

With Astarion walking by your side, you take a left and down the path towards the lake. Towards the rocky plateau where you fought for Halsin, for Thaniel, for the town consumed by Shadow Curse. You don’t notice a curious look Astarion is giving you because you’re getting more anxious with every step. You have something for him and you have no idea if he will like it or not.

But once on the plateau you sit down, hanging your feet from the edge, over the dark water that seems to carry absolutely no life. At least not yet and not so soon. Astarion pauses, he’s not fond of sitting on just plain ground but he still does it, taking a spot on your left, close enough that your hands on the rocky surface almost touch.

For a silent moment you look in front of you. There’s not much to be seen but it’s strangely calm. You both can hear muffled sound of song coming from the Inn, and laughter in the front yard of it, but here, in this moment, it’s just the two of you.

Finally you gather your courage.

“Astarion, can I say something?” you begin and vampire looks at you, his crimson eyes seem even deeper shade of red in this light.

“You’re not going to tell me you’re leaving me, are you?” Astarion jokes but you are sure you hear a note of nervousness in his chuckle. You shake your head and place your palm over his hand, making Astarion look down for a second.

“No, not at all. It’s actually the opposite.” you swallow dryly. Why are you so damned nervous? You have feelings for this man. He has feelings for you in return. So why can’t you just come out with it.

Astarion is patient as he watches you, he easily realizes that you’re struggling with something and he gives you time. Then, after a moment longer you realize you can’t stall anymore.

With your other hand you reach under your leather west and find the folded paper you’ve been carrying with you for several days now. You look down at it once it’s out the hiding spot and Astarion also looks at it.

“What is that?” he asks curiously rather than cautiously and you clear your throat again, then rise your eyes to vampire’s face.

“It’s something I wrote, for you.” you say and another long moment passes while Astarion studies your eyes.

“Can I… see it?” he finally says and you pause, surprised, then suddenly laugh. You didn’t realize you haven’t even given him the damn thing yet.

“Oh yes, yes of course. Here.” you offer him the paper and he has to remove his hand from under your palm to unfold it.

You put your hands in your lap and look down at the water. You don’t want to see his expression while he reads the contents. You feel embarrassed and you don’t want to see his expression if he hates it, in case he does hate it.

“A poem?” you hear Astarion ask softly and you nod, refusing to look at him.

Silence as he reads the words you so painstakingly chose to write for him. To show him in yet another way just how much you care about him.

The poem, that you don’t even think is very good but you’ve put your whole heart into it.

More silence, it seems like eternity is passing while Astarion is reading the words that you have put a piece of your own heart in.

Then, suddenly, you feel his cold fingers under your chin, turning your face to him and when your eyes meet Astarion’s you see, to your surprise, that they are misty with emotion. He’s smiling.

“You wrote this, truly? For me?” he asks in a voice barely above a whisper and you blush harder but give him a small nod. “It’s beautiful. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever read.” Astarion adds and leans in, pressing his lips against yours firmly.

You close your eyes, the world stops around you two and your heart is beating fast in your chest.

He liked it.

The taste of his lips, the closeness of his body, his fingertips still under your chin. You love him so much it’s like your heart could burst just from fullness alone. It’s almost too much. Almost.

When Astarion’s lips part from yours you meet his gaze, see his genuine smile.

“I never knew you had an artistic side.” he comments and you smile now too. You are both obviously feeling slightly awkward about this. You know why – neither of you are very good at showing love, or receiving it, for that matter. But you’re trying your best, both of you.

“Well, truth to be told, I surprised even myself. So I suppose it’s your fault.” you tease him now and Astarion’s fingers leave your chin. He glances down at the poem and then folds it, tucking it inside his shirt, right against his skin and your heart skips a beat.

“Truly.” Astarion sounds like he’s questioning your guilt placement but in no way he is serious. “Well, darling. If I’m to blame then I take full responsibility.” he smiles now, all smug and confident, and you chuckle.

“Good. Otherwise I would have to take it back.” you reach towards his chest and he catches your fingers immediately, giving them a soft squeeze.

“Never. It’s mine now. And I will forever carry it with me.” Astarion says with the same smile but there’s an edge of seriousness in his tone, making you smile back at him.

“How romantic.” you tease and Astarion leans to your face again.

“I’m not the one writing poems, love.” he whispers, making you blush and you open your mouth to respond but he uses this chance to silence you with a kiss.

Once more you smile, this time against his lips the moment your eyes close and you feel Astarion smile too. Then his hand finds yours again and you move it, turning it palm-up, feeling his fingers thread with yours.

From the softness of his lips against your lips, to his fingers firmly yet gently holding your fingers… You love him. And you see him. With all his perfect imperfections. You see him.

And you will never lose the sight of him as long as you’re alive.

[stars-and-inkpots]

hi! if it interests you, I think it'd be funny to see Tav feeling like they're babysitting a bunch of squabbling (overly attractive) children 🤔 🤣 especially towards the beginning when NOBODY got along

much love! your fics are amazing and just hit all the spots! 💖

this was such a silly idea i loved it so much. it took me a while to get a clear idea of how i wanted to write it, but i finally took some time today to get it done ! it's a little short, but it's a fun little scenario of just reader and companions. i hope you enjoy and thank you for the idea!

Getting Along | Reader and Companions (Gale, Astarion, Wyll, Shadowheart, Lae'zel)

Trying to travel with your newfound companions is getting increasingly difficult. None of them seem to get along (except Wyll, of course), and are more than eager to start arguments rather than solving more pressing issues. Even your patience has it's limits.

Pairing: no romantic pairing

Word Count: 770

To say that your life had changed since the nautiloid would be a massive understatement. Your life was upheaved, completely changed, and you were thrown into an entire adventure completely against your will. At least, you thought to yourself, you had company. 

Though, that ‘company’ was quickly beginning to become more of a problem to solve in its own way. 

One would think that the tadpoles in your minds would bring all of you together. One would think that it would give at least some reason to ensure that everyone was tolerable of each other. This was clearly not the case. 

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve had to tell Astarion to stop bothering Gale while all of you walk through the forest path. Astarion starts it every time, but Gale is stubborn and is easily lured into a new argument only minutes after the last had ended. 

“Gale, just stop answering him,” you say, exasperated after the fifth spat between the two of them in the span of twenty minutes. 

“He knows he’s wrong though! He just won’t admit it!” 

Astarion is only barely concealing his laughter behind you. 

“Yes. Because he knows it upsets you. Just ignore him.” You bring a hand up to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you feel the stress of the day already getting to you. It’s barely noon. 

Gale gives an annoyed groan, but mercifully listens to you. You can see the effort it takes, however, when Astarion continues to try and goad Gale into another rant.

---

In the afternoon, Gale has managed to ignore Astarion for a good majority of the time. Instead, it is now Lae’zel and Shadowheart who have been at each other’s throats (thankfully, only figuratively so far) almost constantly. Astarion, now bored with Gale’s determined disinterest, is happy to antagonize both of them, encouraging the divide between the two. 

“I just think maybe Shadowheart deserves to keep the relic, since she was able to take it so easily.” Astarion knows it’s more complicated than that. He also knows that saying this will infuriate Lae’zel. 

“Finally, you speak some sense,” Shadowheart says, not even sparing either Astarion or Lae’zel a glance. 

“Do not start,” you warn. 

Wyll, the only other one who seems to see reason in working together, steps between Lae’zel and Shadowheart. He only looks a little nervous as he does, knowing full well that the githyanki could easily push him to the side. 

“The half-elf can fight her own battles as she seeks them. I do not suggest getting in my way, unless you wish me to go through you.” Lae’zel’s hand is holding the hilt of her sword so tightly that you are impressed she hasn’t snapped it entirely. Wyll keeps his gaze on the path ahead, giving no indication that he’s heard her at all except for a momentary, nervous glance at you. 

“Enough! There will be no more fighting! You will all behave until we get through the day. And then you will continue to behave when we are back at camp. Am I understood?” You feel like an exhausted parent, scolding children. The only thing missing is a corner for timeouts. 

“I was behaving. Quite well, in fact,” Shadowheart says, with the nerve to cross her arms petulantly. Lae’zel only grumbles, but her hand leaves her sword. 

“Everyone is going to be quiet now. Not a word, unless necessary, until we camp for the night.” You remember hearing a parent encourage their children to play something called ‘the silent game’ once, and it feels very similar to what you’re requesting of your companions now. 

They listen. For the rest of the night, there is blessed silence. Even through dinner that night, no one says a word. 

Before everyone retires for the night, you speak up to all of them. 

“Tomorrow, everyone is going to get along. We are in this together. We need to work together. Astarion, stop trying to start fights. Gale, stop answering Astarion. Lae’zel and Shadowheart, leave each other alone. Wyll… keep it up, you’ve been great. Now everyone, get a good rest and when we travel tomorrow, you will all be in a good mood. Okay?” 

There are a few indignant huffs, but everyone mumbles their reluctant agreement. 

The night is peaceful, and that peace continues on to the next day. Maybe because you finally managed to get through to them, or maybe because they didn’t want to have to endure yet another lecture. Whatever the reason, you’re happy to have at least one day where you don’t feel like a babysitter.

[avocado-writing]

I love love love your bg3 writing so much. I'm so glad i found your blog.

if you're comfortable writing about marriage, could you write the companions (minus lae'zel) reactions to a githyanki Tav proposing? like, Tav has done research into material plane customs and what marriage entails and has decided they want that with their love.

thank you if you do!! ♡♡♡

Astarion

A little baffled when he sees you get down to one knee so sincerely, thinking you can’t possibly be about to propose. That’s not a thing githyanki do is it? Gods, he should have asked Lae’zel…

Eyes widen when you produce the ring. Dead heart skips.

Is utterly bowled over that this is happening. That anyone would think he was worth proposing to, especially wonderful you.

You start a spiel about why you think you’d be a spouse he should consider, usual githyanki directness, and he cuts you off - “you don’t need to convince me, my sweet. The answer is yes. It’s always yes.”

You slide a ring onto his finger and he watches the way it sparkles.

You must have saved up for ages. He never thought he’d be deserving of something like this, but is going to try and see himself through your eyes from now on.

Gale

As you drop to a knee, he’s sorting through every piece of information in his head that he knows about githyanki, because you can’t possibly be about to —

Just stares for a moment when you bring out a ring. He sees your brow furrow.

“you are displeased.” Him, quickly, “no, no! Far from it! I’m just… surprised.”

”why would you be surprised, Gale? You are the most treasured thing in my life, and I believe this is how people in Faerûn seal that bond.”

He’s reduced to speechlessness at your sincerity. All he can do is nod and put on the ring, allowing you to scoop him up in your arms and kiss him over and over ❤️

Karlach

The second you drop to a knee she says yes.

“Karlach I believe I am meant to ask the question first—” “sorry, I got overexcited! do it properly then.”

”… will you marry m—“ “YES”

She grabs you and pulls you into her embrace, holding you in a bridal carry and kissing you deeply.

“Would you like to see the ring?” “There’s a ring too?!”

She’s so happy, man. You’re certain you’ve never made a better decision in your life.

“I researched into what gem would be preferred in a ring, and measured your gloves to get the size correct.” “You did all this for me? 🥹” “Karlach, you are worth moving the stars for.”

She goes around the camp showing off her ring. She can’t stop smiling all day ❤️

Shadowheart

Raised eyebrows when you kneel.

“Hmm, I wasn’t aware that githyanki knew of marriage.” “I didn’t. I read up about it. But I suppose if you’re against it—“ “no no, I didnt say that…”

Smiles when you drop to a knee again, pretends to be coy in her answer, but she knows she’d never say anything but yes.

You lay there with her that evening as she discusses all of the intricacies of planning a wedding, her hand tangled in yours, going into great detail about what she wants. Her face hurts by the time she falls asleep because she’s been grinning all day.

Wyll

He is so utterly surprised when you propose — but not for any untoward reason.

“Wait right there!” his face is so excited when he runs back into his tent, and when he re-emerges he has a ring box in his hand too.

“oh… is it custom for us both to have a ring when proposing?” “No, my darling. It’s just fortuitous luck that I was going to propose to you, too.”

“I see. So is your answer yes, then?” “Of course my love. A thousand times.”

You smile widely, and the two of you exchange rings, before he reaches over and kisses you sweetly.

Halsin

Is happy, but also wants you to know you don’t have to do this. That proposal might be a custom of this plane but if you aren’t certain, it isn’t something you have to do.

“I want this, Halsin. I have done my research thoroughly. I can think of nothing more joyous than being married to you. I do not enter into the lightly, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He smiles so widely it threatens to crack his face in two. Lifts you in his arms and gives you a passionate kiss, assuring you that he will make you happy for the rest of his days.

Can’t stop looking at the ring on his finger. He’s an old elf, but he’s never felt more treasured in his life.

Minthara

Smirks. She knew this was coming.

Doesn’t say much, but confirms “you made the right choice. Yes. I will marry you.”

She scrutinises the ring as you slide it on your finger, but seems content. She keeps glancing down to how it reflects the light.

Proves just how pleased she is later that night in bed 😏

[galesdevoteewife]

Right back at you! Could you tell us about their wedding ? 8, 18 and 19 🥰

Hello hello!! Thanks for dropping the ask!! Loved to do more Wedding prompts!! ✨✨

8. Traditions - The overall ceremony was a much simplified version of the traditional Dekarios ones. Many customs involves seeking good luck and my HC Gale snorted at and skipped lots of them. "All that's needed are the right words, gestures and substance components." type of Gale who would ignore the regulations and superstitions.

It still serves as both family gatherings and singles mixers as the traditional ceremonies do.

Dekarios family dances and ice-breaking games.

The rings followed Waterdeep traditions.

All the traditions are from Dekarios or Waterdeep. In my world Menzoberranzan don't have this type of weddings.

18. I Now Pronounce You... - Zilvera inherits Gale's family name, becoming Zilvera Dekarios and Mrs. Dekarios. Gale smiles every time he reads or hears someone call her that way. Zilvera likes how it links their name like a pair, although she rarely introduces herself with the surname. Just in case, because she wouldn't want to stain its reputation on her behalf.

19. Guests -

🎶People were chatting, playing, dancing, singing, drinking, eating, mingling 🪕

A group of children made a bouquet for the bride using the flower decoration on the table. "We think you are beautiful," the brave boy holding the flowers at the front said nervously with blushing cheeks.

Astarion was flirting with the most innocent-virgin-looking cousin.

Shadowheart set up a drinking contest with bets, and made a fortune out of it. She can hold her wine and she skillfully cheated.

Lae’zel was bored until Shadowheart persuaded her to start a martial arts arena: "Shouldn't a true warrior be able to win with any weapon?" Contestants chose food from the table as their weapon. The loser would have to eat the food afterward. Baguette was a popular choice. SH again made her coin purse even heavier. "My animals need to eat, and I am a responsible owner." She said with a glass of wine in her hand.

Elminster was there. Gale was playing cool but he was thrilled inside. He opened a precious wine for his idol and Elminster played along as if he was here because he wouldn't want to miss the wine. Only El knew the true reason of his visit, the old wizard has always been a mystery.

The ceremony moved Wyll to tears. The magically chilled beer moved Karlach to tears. They both missed the food and air so much.

There were piles of wedding gifts.

Barcus and some of his gnome friends, from Ironhand and from Gondians, attended. He brought her a very fancy firework show as wedding gift. The gnome's visit was also a business trip; they planned to expend their business in Waterdeep.

Zilvera looked at Barcus with an arched eyebrow. He stood there stiffly, posing like a scarecrow. "Are you trying to give me a hug?" "I just feel like it’s appropriate for the occasion. You want it or not?" "Maybe, but I am not bending down. How about you jump into my arms?" "You wish!" "Hm." She smirked, it’s good to see the familiar grumpy face. "Here, take this. I brought you a wedding gift so you won’t blackmail me later. Find a secluded place and toss it into the sky, as high as you can…damp coal! I said secluded place! Would you ever listen to my instruction...!"

"…Listen. I'll only say this once." Barcus said while they both looked up to the sky, knowing the drow's ears would pick up his every word no matter how loud the fireworks were. "Zilvera, you are a better person than you think. You deserve all of this. May you always find inspiration and strength in your union, my friend."

In my HC post-game Zilvera was in close contact with Barcus, who was now leading the Ironhands and collaborating with the Gondians, to help them recover from Gortash's doing. They needed money and wanted their skills to be known, while the drow wanted to build her own merchant guild, so they hit it off. Zilvera grew increasingly fond of these little fellows for their impressive skills and their character. She especially liked Barcus; they had become true friends.

♡ Wedding Prompts ♡01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

I appreciate Barcus's character and quest line so much, his was lots of fun! ("We love collaboration. Challenge. Solving problems with the power of reason, creativity and invention". Yup that's my cup of character ☕) He also have this firework dialog at tiefling party, it was very him 😂

[astarionancuninslittlelove]

BG3 Companions as The Tortured Poets Department Songs:

Wyll•Gale•Astarion•Karlach•Lae’zel•

Shadowheart Headcanon

Wyll 🗡️: "Fresh Out the Slammer"

"Years of labor, locks, and ceilings/

In the shade of how he was feeling/

But it's gonna be alright./

I did my time.

Now pretty baby I'm runnin back home to you"

I am not sure why this just reminds me of Wyll getting out of Mizora's pact and out from under the disapproving eyes of his father and being free. From there, he is free to do as he pleases. Also, I think Wyll to be a certified lover boy, so once he is free of all of this, he is free to really get into it with Tav.

Gale 🔮: "The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived"

"And I don't even want you back/

I just want to know/

If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal/

And I don't miss what we had/

But could someone give/

A message to the smallest man who ever lived"

~

"And you'll confess why you did it/

And I'll say, "Good riddance"/

Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden/

I would've died for your sins/

Instead I just died inside/

And you deserve prison,/

But you won't get time."

Immediately reminded me of Gale and Mystra. The whole time, Gale didn't know that what she was doing was so wrong, and once he came to that realization after she essentially cast him out to die, he realized. As the loyal king that he is, I really believe he would have done anything for her. And Mystra, when I find you Mystra...you do deserve prison!!!!

Astarion 🦇: "I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)"

"They shake their heads/

Saying, "God help her," when I/

Tell 'em he's my man/

But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger

I can fix him/

No, really I can.

This reminded me more of Tav x Astarion's relationship rather than Astarion himself. In the beginning when you pair up with Astarion, it is almost like the air is thick with some sort of confusion or disapproval with the companions at camp (not confirmed, just vibes) because (good aligned) Tav and Astarion is such an unlikely pair. They eventually learn to love it.

Karlach 🔥: "Florida!!!"

"And my friends all smell like weed or little babies/

And the city reeks of driving myself crazy"

~

"Your home's really a town/

You're just a guest in"

The first part reminded me of how after Gortash's death, Karlach has dialogue with Tav about how they get to go about living their lives meanwhile she has a death sentence. The second part reminds me of how much she loves Baldur's Gate, but she cannot be there as much as she would want to--She must return to Avernus otherwise her heart will go into overdrive. Also in the epilogue she mentions to Tav how she is going to come back to Baldur's Gate eventually; she PROMISES in fact. She is going to find a way.

Lae'zel ⚔️: "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?"

"I just want to snarl and show you/

Just how disturbed this has made me/

You wouldn't last an hour/

In the asylum where they raised me"

~

"I was tame, I was gentle/

Til the circus life made me mean/

Don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth"

This song got me thinking about how her entire upbringing, she was told to worship Vlaakith and how she would do anything in her name. Upon finding out of Vlaakith's ulterior motives, she is stripped of everything that she knew her entire life.

Shadowheart 🖤: "I Hate It Here"

"You see I was a debutant in another life but/

Now I seem to be scared to go outside/

If comfort is a construct/

I don't believe in good luck/

Now that I know what's what.

~

"I hate it here so I will go to/

Secret gardens in my mind/

People need a key to get to/

The only one is mine/

I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child/

No mid-sized city hopes and small town fears/

I'm there most of the year/

Cause I hate it here"

I had a harder time finding a song that fit her, but this one stuck out the most because there are parts of her that she doesn't remember, and throughout the beginning of the game, she is incredibly secretive as a self-preservation tactic.

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Hi! I like to request a drabble/fic for Laezel x pcos!Tav(female)? PCOS is Polycystic ovary syndrome, some women have it and has them have hormone imbalances. This causes beards to grow. Can we have Tav (who always had a covering over their face to hide their beard cause they’re ashamed) try to shave it off to look “presentable” for when Lae’zel comes to their bed? This is taking place the night when Lae’zel and Tav sleep together the first time.

omg :0 yes!! i didn't even know this was a thing!! i will deffo try my best to represent this as best as I can and do your ask justice!! also u didn't specify what class you wanted reader to be so for the purpose of the mask, she will be a human paladin! (god isn't important) she will also have more of thick scruufy!!

Eat at your doubts | Lae'zel x Fem!PCOS! Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: reader insecure of her looks (rememeber queens, kings and imperial highnesses, y'all are so beatiful and very much deserve ever ounce of love you reviece and more!!), reader cutting her facial hair.

You adjusted your helmet, uncomfortable with the way it was positioned. Trekking your way on the path, you couldn’t wait to head back to camp and take it off. You hear the chatter of your party mates as you all near your last stop, you need to buy a couple of things. Once in the grove, you turn to the group.

“Hey, I need to get a couple of things before we turn in. You guys can head back if you need to.” You say, your voice was somewhat muffled through the helmet. While unconventional at times, you found it easier to hide your face. Thankfully, in a group where everyone had their secrets, no one pressured you for yours. Everyone acknowledged you, before they dispersed, some heading back to camp, others finding something to do. You are about to turn when you hear someone call out to you.

“Istik.” You turn, to see that Lae’zel remains. You hesitate, unsure of what she wants. You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say that you didn’t harbor some feelings for the gith woman, you were fascinated with her. Her mere presence and intimidation were enough to pierce you through your heart.  You turn to face her, letting her know that she has your attention. She doesn’t say anything, looking you over before stating what she wants. “I have a confession. I was too hasty to judge you. I thought you witless, gutless, unimpressively bland.”

“...What about now?” You ask, trying to keep your voice loud enough for her to hear it.

“Now, well- you have earned my respect, and more still. You’ve proven your wits. You are efficient and dominant, in and out of battle. You’ve proven your courage. I swear, you would tear the horns of one dragon to plunge into another.” She says, her voice growing ever so slightly more feral with each inkling of her desire. You feel your face getting warmer at her praise. While odd, your knowledge of gith, while extremely limited, made you understand that being the best soldier there was is the highest of compliments. You tense a bit, however Lae’zel doesn’t seem to notice. If she did, she didn’t make any effort to mention it as she continued. “And you’re hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hair stand on end.”

‘Oh!’ was all you could think. You knew for sure that you wanted the woman in front of you. You rack your brain for possible responses that don’t make you sound pathetic. 

“The feeling is mutual, Lae’zel.” You say, surprised you didn’t fumble your sentence. Wanting to return her praise, you continue, “You know how to set my heart racing. Seeing you covered in blood after a battle is when you look your best.”

“Good.” She says with a look that seems to show her satisfaction. You think she is done when she continues, “I want to taste you. Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same. Do you?”

“Uhh…” You freeze. You so desperately wanted to share yourself with her, however, there were certain…things hindering you. On the other hand, you knew that you would never get a second shot. Although hesitant, you agree. “Yes. I want to share my body with you Lae’zel.”

“Yes. Perhaps one night soon, I will come to your bunk and take what’s mine.” You flush a little more at her already laying her claim on you. You know deep in your heart that she doesn’t mean it in the romantic sense, but it flutters your heart all the same. “Until that night comes- I shall keep enjoying your scent.”

She leaves soon after, leaving you essentially a puddle. Your brain takes a while to catch up, and after snapping back to reality, you hurriedly turn to the inside of the grove. Rushing to the merchant, you make a list of what you need, adding more to the list. ‘I will need a dagger and mirror…’

▪────  ⚔  ────▪

A couple of nights had passed since your talk with Lae’zel. Since then, you grow anxious that she will come up to you with no warning and you will have no time to prepare. Much to your grace, and slight disappointment, there hasn’t been a night since when everything was silent. It was quite hectic, from the dream visitor to meeting Scratch and Wyll’s pact owner and the person who was hunting Karlach. However, it seemed today was going to be the first quiet night in a while. Lae’zel also seemed to notice this, as when the camp wasn’t looking, she pulled you in close and whispered in your ear. “Tonight is when I will claim what is mine. Be prepared for a long night.”

You nodded, and anxiously headed to your tent. Now you sat in your tent, with a handheld mirror and a dagger in front of you. Your helmet was still on. You bring your hands up to your helmet and leave them there for a moment, scared that anyone would walk in. However you knew that no one would, no one ever waltzed into your tent, however, you have this fear stilled into you that they could. Afraid of them seeing you under the mask. Even at night, when your tent walls were the only thing around you, you slept with something covering your face. You even made the extra effort of sneaking off to the nearby lake late at night every day, just to clean off any blood that remained from the battles. Lifting the helmet slowly, still fearful of someone wandering in. Once your helmet passed your nose, you took in the smell of the fresh air around you, the smell of the forest, dirt, lake, and everything overwhelmed you ever so slightly, you considered leaving it on and waiting for Lae’zel that way. You stopped that train of thought as soon as it entered your mind. Out of everyone at camp, you wanted her to be the one to see you. Taking the helmet off entirely, you take a deep breath of fresh air, the cool air of the night relieving you. 

Placing your helmet down next to you, you reach for the mirror with a slightly shaky hand. You can’t bear to stomach the anxiety of seeing your face, since for as long as you could remember, you had avoided your gaze. You knew that if you wanted to do what you needed you needed to see what you were dealing with. In your reflection, you saw yourself, your acne, and your beard still as prominent as it was before the illithid had picked you up. You bring your hand up to your face, touching the scruffy hair that was along your jaw. It seemed that there was way more than normal, which made sense it had been at least a couple of weeks since you last touched your razor. You look at the dagger you picked up at the merchant’s.

While it was still a dagger, it looked fine enough to use as a razor. You reach for it and find a way to find the best way to shave without it being awkward. After some time, you managed to get comfortable, and you started to shave. While it was uncomfortable to shave with no water, you had to do with what you had. Making decent progress, you failed to notice that footsteps approaching. 

“Istik, I have come to sate you and be sated.” Lae’zel opens your tent, startling you and causing you to nick yourself. You pull the dagger away from your face and bring a hand to where you cut yourself. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad, but it still hurt. Hastily grasping at the cloth you use to cover your face in the evening. You pressed the cloth to the lower section of your face, only leaving your eyes, and turned to Lae’zel, who was confused at the entrance of your tent. “What are you doing?”

You don’t say anything, instead opting to look at her. All your life, you have never had the correct answer to explain your situation. No doctor seemed to know what was causing you an abnormal amount of acne, irregular menstrual cycle, deeper than average voice, and the most evident feature, a beard. Physically, you were a woman; you had all the bits and pieces, but you also had the body hair of a man. You even strayed from relationships, throwing yourself deep into your oath, in fear of your partner being turned off by you. Lae’zel moves closer, before kneeling on the floor in front of you. Her hand reaches towards your hand that was holding the cloth. You panic and move back, causing her to growl and reach for your hand. Forcefully, she pulls your hand down, causing you to yelp in surprise and try to stop her. With the cloth no longer around the bottom half of your face visible, Lae’zel sees you in whole. You try to grab the cloth again, however, her grip is so strong that she helps your arm in place. She spends a while looking at you, and feeling ashamed you turn your head.

“You never said what you were doing.” Lae’zel’s stern voice makes you flinch a bit. Still looking away, you try to answer her. 

“I…I was shaving.”

“Why?” Her question caught you off guard. You look at her, now confused. 

“Huh?”

“What are you shaving for?”

“I just…” You trail off, confused as to how she doesn’t understand. “I wanted to look presentable for you.”

“Tas’ki. Did you not listen to me?” She says. You feel your face morph into further confusion. At your expression, she rolls her eyes and explains. “When I told you I wanted you, I meant your strength, your fierceness in battle. All you humans look alike to me. What does it matter to me if you look presentable?”

With the way she explained it, it made sense to you. Feeling foolish, you look down again. You hear her smack her teeth before she drags you out of your tent. 

“Wuh- Lae’zel- Where are we going?”

“To be sated. I came to you to lay my claim on you, and I will before the sun rises. I will lead, you follow.” As she dragged you away from camp, you can’t help but feel free. It had been years since you walked into the night without any of your masks. For you to walk out without worrying about someone judging you. Hand in hand with Lae’zel, you felt your heart flutter at the thought that she accepted you. She wanted you. Regardless of your whole predicament, even if you weren’t desirable to parts of the land, you were wanted by her. 

And truthfully? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK LONGER THAN I WANTED IT TO ☹️☹️☹️ I was partially researching it to PCOS to see how else it affected women and I wanted to incorperate that as well. Hope you enjoyed and really hope I did this ask justice!! it is also short so I apologize once more :(