#also astarion and my tav have made their home in my brain and heart and are not planning on leaving any time soon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecampjuicebox · 11 months

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To have and to hold Pt. 1

A couple of weeks before Tav and Gale's wedding night, Tav is having second thoughts. Seeking out a past lover before the big night, turns her world upside-down.

Pairing: Tav(f) x Gale x Astarion

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

Trying my hand at a multi-part fic. Let me know what you think! This idea was suggested to me and I couldn't NOT do it. This is gonna be a long one. Buckle up!

Dress fittings, picking out decorations, venue tours, flowers, food choices, invitations and exchanging kisses with family and friends you've neglected to speak to since the Nether Brain had fallen - all aspects of a wedding you didn't seem to take into account when accepting Gale's proposal. You love him, yes. Unconditionally. With every fiber of your being, and those floating through the weave. And yet.. Regret bubbles up in your gut while staring at yourself in the mirror, hands smoothing the bone white lace on the bodice of your wedding dress. You fumble with the top of your corset, shifting uncomfortably at the stiff boning. Shadowheart stands behind you, one hand placed gently on your shoulder and she leans in to whisper to you, your pointed ears perking up.

"There's still time to turn back, you know."

Your heart thumps audibly in your chest and you sigh, picking at your fingernails. You didn't want to admit how frightened you are. You've never considered forever. Especially not with someone like Gale. Charming, handsome, intelligence unmatched. He was the perfect candidate. The man your late mother always dreamed you'd bring home to the family, Selune bless her. You choke back tears at the thought of her. How she won't be there for the big moment anyways, so why does it matter who you wed? You'd also never been to Waterdeep. You and Gale decided to stay in Baldur's Gate briefly while you made the preparations. It was easier that way. Gale had traveled back to Waterdeep for short bursts of time, mostly to see that Tara, his tressym and trusted friend, was well taken care of. You decided to stay back every time, much to Gale's dismay. Something about making the trek to your soon to be forever home made you uneasy any time he'd ask. You've traveled all over Faerun and back. Hells, you'd even plunged into Avernus more times than you'd be willing to admit. The idea of spending your days in a tower with a tressym, a husband, and an endless supply of books was not how you thought you'd end your travels, though. Mrs. Dekarios. You'd take his last name, obviously. Wear it as a badge of honor. Meet his family, bare his children. Gods.. Children. The idea makes you nauseous, hot bile threatening to fight its way up your throat. Shaking your head, you tune back in to the sounds of the quaint Baldurian dress shop. You were no stranger to Figaro's. You came to enjoy the lavish clothing he offers. Textures your fingers never felt before the cult of the Absolute forced it's way into your life. You were reborn, newly cultured, and so very exhausted by all of it. Karlach stands, making her way over to the small platform you stand on and she meets your eyes in the mirror.

"Everything okay, Soldier?"

You chuckle at the nickname. Soldier.. You feel like anything but a soldier right now. Her warm hand reaches down to capture yours and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Tears well up in your large brown eyes and you lower your head once more to ease the burning in your tear ducts. You feel so hopeless. Surrounded by the people you love most, but so entirely and devastatingly alone. Your thoughts swirl in your brain, engulfing the area the tadpole once lived. How could you be so ready to give up on Gale? You know he loves you just as much as you love him. If not more. Definitely more. A quiet sob escapes you and you crumble onto the platform, startling Shadowheart and Karlach. In confusion, the two kneel beside you, each one grabbing a hand.

"Gods, Tav.. What has gotten into you?"

Karlach's voice is stern and low, her fingers tightening around yours to ground you in the moment. Shadowheart sighs and shakes her head. She knows. She understands. Small cries rattle your ribcage as a never-ending stream of tears streaks your flushed cheeks. Embarrassment burns in your throat and you quickly stand again, both hands yanking away from your companions. You want nothing more to be free of this dress and the agonizingly tight corset holding all of you in. You reach back and tug at the laces of the corset in frustration, failing to loosen anything before throwing your hands down at your sides once more.

"I'd like to be free of this death trap, please."

You mumble quietly. Shadowheart giggles and begins unlacing the corset while Karlach moves to the front of you, both hands now resting on the tops of your trembling shoulders.

"It's going to be alright. Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. Hells, I'd be fucking batshit if I were in your position. Especially with someone as grand as Gale."

You allow a giggle to pass your frown and sigh heavily in relief when Shadowheart finally frees you from the corset, the pale leather folding neatly in her gentle hands.

"Looks like you need a hefty meal and a nap, Soldier. Let's get going. Your dress fits you just fine."

Figaro scoffs in the corner and collects the corset from Shadowheart, placing it down on a velvet bench before extending his hand to you and helping you down from the platform. He leads you to a small room so you can change back into your normal clothing, quickly shutting the curtain behind him as he steps out. You sigh and quickly shimmy out of your dress, carefully folding the fancy fabric and leaving it on the small stool in the room.

...

"Where are you headed off to? How was your dress fitting? I assume you've gotten all of the details figured out with Figaro by now?"

Gale's eyes lift from the dusty tome lying open on his desk. He scans your form, taking inventory of the cloak you've draped over your shoulders. You wiggle your toes in your boots and shrug off his concerned tone.

"I uh.. Derryth needs help collecting noblestock. Baelen is ill. The fitting went.. About as well as expected. Karlach cried, Shadowheart told me I should get the dress in black, Figaro was disgusted by that idea."

Your fingers drum against your thighs and you turn to look at him, attempting the most sincere look you can muster in the moment. The wizard's eyes narrow on you and he nods slowly, placing his palms flat on his desk to help lift him from his stool. His fingers graze the page on the tome before he begins his trek across the room to you. Gale pulls you into a tight hug, one hand grasping your waist while the other smooths your dark hair against the back of your head.

"Ah yes, Figaro and his.. Closed-minded fashion sense. Well, I'm glad the shop at least didn't go up in flames. The Underdark, hmm? Be safe, my love. Send word when you're on your way back, yes?"

You nod at his words and rest your head against his chest, the gentle thumping of his heart calming the nervous fizz in your brain for a moment. The soft velvet of his robe tickles your cheek and you nuzzle against it in the same fashion Tara would, but with much less purring. Gale chuckles and pecks the top of your head, mumbling a soft "I love you" against your scalp before he releases you, his hand reaching for yours to quickly caress the finger with your engagement ring on it. A soft smile thins his lips and he motions for you to make your exit. You smile nervously up at him, pulling your hand away gently and you turn to leave, your hands coming to your front to slowly slide your ring off of your finger and into your thigh pouch, your teeth catching your bottom lip. You slip into the night, tugging your cloak hood up to further shroud you in darkness.

...

You missed the glowing alure of the Underdark. The Myconid Colony serving as a beacon of calming light. You let out a quiet sigh at the familiar surroundings and cross your arms over your heaving chest, taking a moment to drink in the atmosphere and catch your breath. You weren't here to collect noblestock, and quite honestly, you're proud of yourself for the excuse you had come up with on the spot. You're in search of something much more valuable to you. A vampire spawn. The very one you'd shared so many sleepless nights with while infected with the tadpoles. Astarion. His name sends a shudder through your entire body. After your group took down Cazador in his crypt, Astarion made the impossible decision to kill the vampire lord and stop the Black Mass, freeing his fellow spawn to live in the shadows for eternity. Unfortunately, he was doomed to the same fate once the Nether Brain was defeated. You blink tears away from your eyes, rubbing your palms into the sockets to ease the slight burning. The thought of him cowering at the sun just after the final fight, running off never to be seen again, it makes your heart ache in a way you didn't think possible. And it has been exactly that long since you've laid eyes on the spawn. But you remember him so vividly. His pearlescent skin. His crimson eyes. His silvery hair that always rested in perfect curls, even after the roughest of battles with goblins.

Continuing your walk through the Underdark, your eyes fall on more familiar territory. The Duergar camp, nestled just on the edge of the black water you fondly remember sailing to Grymforge. However, the camp is... Inhabited. Rebuilt. Much more beautiful than you remember, large purple crystals growing in tall pillars around the quaint wooden houses peppered around the area. Long rope bridges connect the homes and buildings on the higher cliffs, chasm creeper and mushrooms speckled about on the rock. Your tired legs seem to will you towards the new found civilization, the promise of sleep fogging your brain. Taking a step into the camp, your eyes scan the surroundings, a few faces seeming oddly familiar to you. A tall, long haired vampire spawn with the scarring of runes scattered about his face approaches you, his crimson eyes cutting through the dark gloom. The purple glow of the crystal pillars around you grants you just enough light to make out his facial features.

"Tav..?"

"Sebastian?!"

Your eyes widen at the sudden realization. Sebastian is one of the Spawn your group freed from Cazador's crypt. A bright smile adorns your tired face and you sprint towards him, quickly embracing him in a tight hug. You nearly knock him off of his feet, your hands gripping the soft fabric of the back of his coat. The spawn chuckles and catches your short frame, gently lifting you from the dirt and giving you a playful twirl, earning a giggle. You inhale deeply, the scent of lavender and deep earth filling your nostrils.

"It's lovely to see you. Astarion hasn't stopped talking about his adventures by your side. I do believe he's around here somewhere. But what are you doing here, Dear? "

Your breath catches in your throat at the mention of his name. He's here. He's really here. You traveled all the way beneath the ground on an inkling that he might have followed the other spawn to the Underdark to seek refuge from the burning sun. Your heart thumps in your chest and Sebastian inhales your excitement deeply. He places you back onto your feet and takes a step back, smoothing his coat down before motioning for you to follow him. You nod and make haste, trying your best to keep up with his quick strides as he leads you in, what you assume to be, the direction of the spawn you initially traveled here to see. Sebastian stops in front of a large wooden door, tapping a few knocks onto the surface with the knuckle of his index finger. He holds his free hand out to you, motioning for you to wait outside once he hears a quiet "Enter" from the dark room behind the door. He carefully opens the door and steps inside, blocking the being within the walls from seeing you.

"Pardon me, Astarion. You have a visitor."

"A visitor? I thought I told that wretch that it was a one time thing! Gods, these deep gnomes are needy. Very well, send him in."

Sebastian stifles a chuckle and steps aside, revealing your presence to the the vampire. You step forward into the dim candlelight of his home, bottom lip caught nervously between your teeth, biting impressively hard on the sensitive flesh. Astarion looks even more beautiful than you remember. His hair a touch longer than before, but still arranged in that intoxicating mess of curls. A sparkling silver chalice rests between his pale, slender fingers and he swirls the contents in it with finesse. A familiar metallic tang lingers in the air along with the soft scent of bergamot and rosemary. A scent you grew very fond of when you were traveling alongside the spawn. One you often find yourself craving back home. Astarion is lying on a small velvet love seat, one leg outstretched and the other bent with his foot resting firmly in the plush cushion beneath him. Piles of dusty books and candles speckle the tables and floors around him, the room still tidy, but certainly lived in. His back rests against the armrest and he stretches for a moment before his eyes drift towards the front door. As he slowly turns his attention to the new intruder, he takes another sip from the chalice and he chokes suddenly, sputtering the red liquid. You stand in the doorway, hands clasped behind your back and you watch his reaction, a light smirk building on your lips. Astarion hurries to his feet, setting the chalice down with care to not spill any more of its contents before moving towards you swiftly.

"Tav is.. Is that you?"

You nod quickly and he whisks you from the floor, his face burying into the crook of your warm neck. You shudder at the sensation of his cold nose nuzzling your skin and you snake your arms around his shoulders, hands finding a comfortable spot in his soft hair. He groans at your touch and tugs you impossibly close to his frame, inhaling every bit of your scent that his nose will allow. Sebastian excuses himself, quietly closing the heavy door behind him.

"I've missed you, little star.."

"Where the hells have you been?"

You cling to him tightly, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks at his question. You shake your head and slowly slide from his embrace. His face contorts into a look of confusion, large eyes glimmering in the candle light when he focuses on your change of posture.

"Little love.. What ever could be the matter?"

You couldn't possibly tell him here. Not now. Not in this moment. You palm at your eyes once more before lifting your head to meet his gaze. He reaches out a gentle hand and cups your burning cheek, lovingly stroking the bone there with his thumb. You tilt your head into his touch and savor the feeling of his skin on yours again, finally. You've missed the vampling so much. Your heart pounds like a goblin war drum behind your ribs. He takes a step closer to you, his free arm gently snaking around your waist. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the salty taste of your sweat making his pupils dilate. A quiet whine slips past your lips.

"Speak to me, Tav. You're never so tongue tied, you poor thing. What has you so rattled?"

Shaking your head, your arms fly around Astarion's neck, taking him by surprise. He stumbles backwards, bumping his calves against the ornate wooden frame of the loveseat and he sits down to catch himself, a small grunt breaking the otherwise harsh silence of the room. You collapse on top of his thin but toned frame and gasp at the impact. Wet eyes meeting his, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite at it, drawing blood. Astarion senses the metallic hint in the air and groans, your very familiar and intoxicating scent making his grasp on you tighten in a primal fashion. He mumbles a soft "Gods.." and reaches one hand up to grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You strain your eyes in the candlelight, releasing your bottom lip, the skin there now bruised, little rivulets of your life's essence staining the skin there.

"Astarion I..."

His grasp on you loosens and his gaze softens. He flashes you a gentle smile and cocks his head to the side. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, and though he revels in the idea that he can still fluster you this way, you feel his intentions have changed. The way his hands rest respectfully on your lower back now, the gentle drumming of his fingers against your spine. He's hungry, but he's doing so well restraining himself. The Astarion you met after the Nautiloid crash and the Astarion seated beneath you now are so incredibly different. It only makes you want to explore him more, to learn his new ways. And it feels so, incredibly wrong.

"Yes?"

"H-Have you eaten? Lately, I mean. I can't imagine there's much to feast on in the Underdark.."

Your question makes his eyebrows knit together for a moment, his expression twisting at the thought of just how hungry he is. Sure, he's eaten. Feasted upon a deep gnome here and there, their blood burning the inside of his mouth as he drinks. He hasn't, however, had anything nearly as delicious as your blood since the death of the Nether Brain. You were the last of your kind that he fed on, and he missed the taste all the same.

"I have eaten, yes. But, you know I am a man of.. Tremendous appetite."

His velvet words send a shiver down your spine and you press to him tightly now, closing the small gap that was left between your torsos while you straddle one of his legs. His knee presses into your mound and you try your best to block to feeling out of your mind. His eyes meet yours, full of lust. Full of hunger. Tinted with the gentle flicker of.. Love. You were his first mortal, after all. And he would be a liar if he told you that all of those nights of honeyed words and sweet nothings weren't how he truly felt about you. You offered yourself to him in a way no one ever has. Not with the intent to sleep with him. Just with the intent to make sure he was taken care of. A debt he, to this day, has no idea how to repay. His thought process is halted when you lean in close, bloodied lips grazing the length of his earlobe and you mutter quietly.

"I-If you're hungry.. Feed."

You back yourself up to meet his gaze once more. His eyebrows furrow and he growls, the deep noise causing your insides to ignite. Without hesitation, Astarion leans forward and flicks his tongue out against your sensitive bottom lip, lapping at the blood that has begun to dry there. He earns a whine from you, his pointy ears perking up at the sound. He smirks, determined for more noises and he sucks your bottom lip between his own, sinking a fang into the already abused flesh. You moan quietly, tilting your head back to tug your lip away from his grasp and your hands meet his chest, fingers toying with the ruffles around the collar of his silk shirt. The vampling's breath stutters at the encounter, your hands on his chest making his hairs stand on end. You instinctively grind your hips down into his, your leathers making a quiet noise from the friction. "Please.." you stutter, hands pulling at the front of his shirt now, your begging making Astarion's head swirl. Nose first, Astarion nuzzles into the side of your neck again, this time with much more intent, tracing the length of your perfectly soft skin. Baring his fangs to the open space, he quickly drags the flat of his tongue to prime the area for the sensation of the sharp pricks. His teeth sink into the flesh there, like ice shards. The pain is delicious and dizzying. You roll your hips again, this time Astarion's hips bucking upwards to meet your already wet core. You ache for him and you hate yourself for it. He laps the now steady stream of blood he's drawn from your neck, a low groan ringing in your ear as he drinks. In the past, he would drink while you were unconscious. Now, you wished you'd have been awake every time you had offered your neck to him. The little noises he makes, the way he gently cradles the back of your head while he feeds.. It's intoxicating. You're drunk off of the pain and the pleasure. Drunk off of Astarion. His lips leave your skin, tongue tracing the new pierce marks he's left in the crook of your neck. His hands remain where they are, one cradling the back of your head, the other tightly gripping the back of your shirt. He sighs to himself, tilting his head back as he cleans the crimson fluid from his lips.

"By the Nine Hells, you're just as delicious as I remember. I need more of you.."

His hands both slide to meet the tie of your cloak, making quick work of undoing it, the dark fabric sliding to the floor at his feet. Your body trembles beneath every movement, every feather-light touch from his fingers. As much as you love him, this was a feeling Gale has never been able to give to you. You love him.. Differently. You love his intellect. You love how much he adores Tara. You love his affinity for books and the way he talks about the weave. But your love for Astarion.. That was leaps and bounds deeper than anything you've ever felt. His touch sets your skin on fire. Your name sounds like a lyric on his tongue, soft and melodious. You crave him. His presence. His existence. You crave all of it. Tears threaten your eyes again and Astarion notices immediately. His hands quickly cup your cheeks and his soft lips crash to yours, your entire body falling limp against him. Arousal boils your blood, bubbling up into your throat, escaping as a soft moan against the vampire's lips. You're unraveling right there in his arms. He kisses you in a way you never in your life have been kissed, teeth knocking, tongues wrestling for dominance, the slight copper taste of blood lingering in his mouth from his meal. Your hips find a steady rhythm, rocking back and forth against his lap, the two of you moaning in tandem at the fiery friction building between your bodies. His right hand snaps upwards to grab your throat, thumb and fingers pressing harshly into the sides of your neck, your breath labored by the force of his palm against your trachea. Hungry red eyes meet your gaze and Astarion's lips slowly form the words that will be your undoing.

"Your body keeps no secrets, my love. This is what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"

You moan at his words, jaw falling slack. His hand moves upwards to press his thumb into your mouth, a quiet "Suck." commanding your lips to close around the digit, tongue lapping at his fingerprint. He watches you, pupils blown out with desire, hair disheveled from your previous kiss. You continue to suck on his thumb, his free fingers tapping rhythmically against your cheek bone and he purrs in delight. Your bones vibrate, your core aches, walls fluttering around nothing. He slips his thumb from between your lips with a gentle "pop" and replaces it with his middle and index finger. You obediently take the new fingers just as you did the thumb, moistening them with your saliva. He presses down on the flat of your tongue and you stick it out, allowing him to swipe his fingers around in your spittle. A devilish grin thins his lips as he watches you.

"So good.. Let's put this to good use, shall we?"

He slides his wet fingers down towards the waistband of your leathers, using his free hand to tug them forward. You curse under your breath, unable to do anything but watch. His fingers hastily meet your core, swiping teasingly slow between your think folds and you collapse against him, shaky little moans ringing in his ears. He groans at how wet you are, wasting no time to dip two digits into your aching cunt, finally granting you the pleasure you've been seeking. His thumb presses tightly to your clit and he moves it in agonizingly slow circles, first clockwise, then counter clockwise, and suddenly, in no particular pattern. You writhe against his hand, gasping and whining.

"That's it. Such a mess."

He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, relishing in the beautiful noises he earns in return. You're at the precipice now. You grind into his hand feverishly and throw your head back, whining into the open air, his name coming out in little yelps and moans. However, he keeps the slow pace. Taking his sweet, sweet time with you. It's been so long since he's touched you. Made you moan like this. Made you drop all defenses and absolutely lose yourself in him. He loves every second of it, his own pleasure coming solely from pleasuring you. He wants nothing more than to deliver you the ecstasy you so greatly deserve. It's the only way he knows how to repay you for the kindness, love, and support you've shown him in this lifetime. You'd never be up front about asking him for sex, let alone to touch you like this. You're the only person he's ever known to respect how he feels, what he wants, what he needs. For this, he has grown to love you with every ounce he's able to give. The time apart from you was agonizing and he spent many nights, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, praying to whatever gods would hear him that you would return to him. That you'd crawl into his bed once more so he could hold you and drink in your warmth. However, he knew you were somewhere else, with someone else. He didn't have the heart to approach you about it in this moment. All he wanted was to be here, with you. To enjoy you for as long as he possibly could before you slipped away, more unknown amounts of time passing before he'd be able to lay eyes on you again. To take in your sweet scent, one he has tried for months to recreate in a perfume. Vanilla, sandalwood, and woodsmoke. A tantalizing combination that leaves his brain all fuzzy and warm. He snaps back to reality, focusing harder now on your moans and the wiggle of your hips. The knot in your belly tightens with each stroke of his fingers against that heavenly spot within your walls, your arousal soaking his entire hand and the leathers that separate your skin from the cold air. His free hand grasps your hip, stilling your desperate grinding.

"Come for me, pet."

The movement of his fingers keeps a slow, steady pace. His thumb continues to rub into your clit, pressing a little harder now to throw you over the edge. You tighten around him, the knot in your core finally snapping, ecstasy making your eyes roll into your buzzing skull. The loud moan you let out surprises even you as you come undone against his hand. He grins proudly, working you through your climax, whispering sweet affirmations of how well you're doing during your comedown. Carefully sliding his fingers from your leathers, he pops one into his mouth, savoring your warm slick. His lids flutter in enjoyment and you watch him closely.

"You are.. Filthy.."

You giggle and wrap your arms sleepily around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you up to straddle him now, hands cupping the supple meat of your ass. You close your eyes tightly, the reality of tonight's events creating a pit in your stomach. You fight with yourself internally. Should you tell Astarion? Should you tell Gale? Should you even go home? A quiet sigh leaves you and your breath coasts along Astarion's pale flesh, making him tremble momentarily. He rests his chin on your shoulder and mumbles quietly. His next words make your stomach drop, your eyes shooting open suddenly.

"Well, this should be fun to explain to Gale.."

#baulders gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion smut

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ficbrish · 8 months

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7 Snippets, 7 Mutuals

Thanks @rotschopf-thedrow for tagging me 🥰

Rules: Share seven snippets and pass onto seven mutuals.

Since I'm still chipping away at Kinktober 2023 😅 I have more than seven one shot drafts to choose from! 😀 Here we gooooo!!!!

I'll try to stick to the order they'll most likely be posted in.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

If you are not an adult, do not interact!

Astarion/Vistri

The Truth of It (Tav; Act I; Mountains - camp)

Prompt: Thighfucking

[[tw/cw: Suicide, cptsd, self-hate, teasing, explicit language]]

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at the thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle, held her so tight for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. He warmed her back with one hand and cradled her face against his neck with the other.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell just by the look on her face, and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly and made her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. It was indulgent, but she knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and Vistri could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved.

He’d taken off her mask, stripped off her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t.”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, the tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes were still freely flowing, but she was more present in there, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Always try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised.”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her shiver with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such a loving embrace.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I can’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

[I'm almost finished this one and I cannot wait to share the whole thing!]

The Cave (Durge; Act I; post-goblin; forest - spider cave/camp)

Prompt: Wrist/Arm Restraints

[[tw/cw: Teasing]]

“Worth it!” Vistri said, showing everyone her prize: Armor for the forearms made of a hard, dark leather that laced up along the sides. They were plain except for the embroidery that covered it all over with elegant patterns of silver thread.

“Oh, those are quite lovely,” Gale commented, stepping closer.

“No!” Vistri pulled them back, “I won’t let you eat these!”

“I wasn’t!—I wasn’t going to eat them. And I don’t eat magical items, I absorb them.”

“These aren’t magical anyway, they’re just pretty.”

Gale sighed, “I wasn’t…”

Astarion grinned, “Not as pretty as you, my dear.”

Vistri flipped one of her braids, “Aw, stop!”

Karlach frowned, “Eugh, they’re being all mushy again! Gale, tell them to stop. It’s too much cuteness, I can’t take it.”

“Why do I have to be the one to tell them to stop?”

“Cuz you’re like a dad.”

“I’m not—“

“You are!” Vistri laughed, “You’re just like somebody’s dad.”

“Not the Daddy vibes you hoped to give off, eh?” Astarion teased.

Needless to say, Gale pouted the whole way back to camp.

When they returned, Karlach announced, “Gale is everyone’s dad!”

“Oggy! Oggy! Oggy!” Wyll chanted in acknowledgement.

“Oi! Oi! Oi!” Karlach shouted, pumping her fist in the air. Gale had to duck.

While everyone else went to rag on Gale about being the camp dad, Astarion watched Vistri make a beeline for Shadowheart. He paid mind to their chat as he “tidied up” his tent area.

“You’ll never guess what I found at the bottom of a spider web.”

Shadowheart raised a brow, “Lolth’s chosen?”

“No, and how dare you,” she brought the armor out from her pack, “I found these beautiful things!”

She didn’t look too impressed, “They’re… Nice.”

Vistri narrowed her eyes, “Well, thank goodness they’re not for you.”

He saw her go to Lae’zel next. Which could only be a slight on Shadowheart, because the Githyanki wasn’t going to care. Predictably blown off, Vistri then moved to Halsin and Wyll, where she finally found compliments. For some reason, she even showed off her find to Withers, who met her with even less enthusiasm than Shadowheart and Lae’zel. Maybe she just wanted him to feel included. Vistri was always doing stuff like that.

Finally, she doubled-back to him.

“It’s because of the undead thing, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked as Vistri approached him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. Do you sew?” she asked, knowing full well he did.

“What?”

Vistri held up one of the arm bands, “The thread is loose here. Look!”

Astarion smirked, “Are you asking me to fix it?”

She rolled her eyes, “No.”

“It seems to me that your new treasure is soiled and I’m the only one you trust to mend it.”

“That isn’t… un-true.”

“So, you’re asking me to fix it?”

“No, silly!” Vistri looked suggestively into his eyes, “You’re going to offer.”

Insolence was the word that came to mind. Her blinking grin said, I have a need you’re lucky enough to fulfill, but her eyes were not so sure. There was something weak in them, like slipping fingers. They were on a precipice that hung on his answer, Was she worth it?

“Would you like me to fix it?”

Vistri smiled warmly, “Oh, darling! How kind of you! Of course.” She shoved the object into his hands.

He didn’t let her go just yet. In a soft tone, he demanded, “Say thank you.”

Vistri held her breath, her eyes grazed over his lips, “Thank you.”

Astarion dropped her hand and started to assess the damage. It wasn’t just a simple tug. A blade must have slashed it, because the original pattern was unrecognizable, and its thread was frayed. He’d have to use some of his own. Luckily, he just picked up a spool of silver the other day.

Vistri was still standing there. She hadn’t gone away.

“You’ve never been one for micromanagement. Please don’t start now, dear.”

“I wasn’t—I just…”

Astarion looked confused, “Oh?”

Vistri scoffed, “Never mind that!”

“I think you just want to hang around,” he teased, seizing the opportunity.

She looked away from him face the other direction, like a cat. Gale came sauntering over, escaping the cheers of “Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” from the other side of camp.

“What kind of nasty thing did you say to make Vistri, of all people,blush?”

“I’m not—!”

Astarion smirked, “I dare not repeat it.”

“You scoundrel!” he grinned.

Vistri sighed theatrically and looked to Astarion, “I guess father doesn’t approve.”

Gale’s smile dropped like a sudden downpour, “I’m not—!”

[I swear they adore Gale lol. They all rag on each other, and apparently it's his turn.]

A Tumble (Durge; early Act II - near Last Light Inn)

Prompt: Biting/Scratching, Piercings/Tattoos, Marking

[I actually have the whole snippet here as a wip wednesday!]

Enough (Tav; Early Act III; Rivington - barn at camp)

Prompt: Mutual Masturbation

[[tw/cw: Suicide, cptsd, breakdown, teasing, explicit language]]

Her voice wasn’t hers, like she was channeling a ghost. Someone else spoke, “Please don’t hate me.”

He held her steady, “I don’t hate you.” He kissed her forehead, “Could never hate you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck so tight he started to worry his head might pop off.

“I just want you to be all right, love. Whatever tonight is, we’ll see each other through. Promise.”

Something light snuck its way into the melody of her weeping. He watched her start to settle into it, shuddering out the bad. Then, as peace began to peak, it was washed over with disgust.

“Gods! I’m so embarrassed!”

“Don’t be! It’s the nature of all fucked up people,” Astarion babbled, “Nothing out of the ordinary—It’s practically routine, darling. No reason to worry.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.”

He chuckled, “Good thing then we’re all fucking stupid.”

That got her to laugh, if even just for that little bit. At the end of it, there was a respite. No quick breaths, no tears; just a stillness.

“I love you,” she said, and then the crying came on again.

Astarion kissed her hand and put it to his heart. Vistri rested her head on his shoulder and let go of whatever she could. She poured stories she still couldn’t tell onto his shirt in salty tears. They soaked warmly onto his skin, quickly turning cold.

“I’m truly sorry, love” she muttered, wiping her face on her wrists, “My temper…”

“I could tell you to fuck off too, if you’d like.”

She chuckled, still not lifting her face from his shoulder.

“Look, it’s already helping. All right, fuck off then!”

It bubbled into full blown laughter, “Foolish!”

There was little difference between her now and the moment before. She was just as raw, even as her grief flipped to its other side. Exposed and bleeding, she stood at the precipice of salvation and ruin. The monster in Astarion whispered to go in for the kill. He blinked away those instincts, choosing another way.

“I love you as well,” he said softly.

Vistri kissed his hand and lifted it to her heart. It raced under his palm. His expression barely shifted but she could see his hunger in it clearly. She smirked warmly and leaned her neck a little closer.

“I-“ he stuttered.

She winked, “If you’re good.”

Astarion swallowed. He hated that he couldn’t feel her heart without the urge to consume it, but she loved that part of him, leaned into it. Instead of shying from the monster, she was ready to risk it all to make it more powerful. It would be more flattering if she didn’t hate herself so much, but thinking that way was unkind, did her an injustice. She stopped all other monsters. Her fealty was not to a vampire, but to him.

“Maybe later,” he smirked, “I dare not take from you now. Besides, you’d probably taste awful.”

“I beg your pardon!”

“All that stress in your system… Well, it sours the vintage.”

She took a very deep breath and exhaled with a shuddering sigh. All the stress in her system made her teeth chatter as if she were cold.

“I’m here, love. I’m here.”

She nodded, “I know. Thank you.”

[This one is really complicated to write, but it's starting to come together. I want to get it right. It's a tricky one.]

Blood Moon (Tav; ShadowPen au collab; post-epilogue; Storm Coast - ShadowPen's farm)

Prompt: Body Worship (Genitals), Vampires/Werewolves

[[tw/cw: Explicit language]]

Things were getting much too sappy for listening in to stay bearable. Astarion chuckled low in her ear, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Vistri laughed and grabbed his hand to lead him out of bed. She suppressed a giggle and shushed him with a finger to his lips as they stood. He nodded, and they “snuck” out of the room, and then the cottage.

Once outside, their laughter began to slip. They took off into the grey dark, running from the threat of being overheard. When they stopped, it all came tumbling out. Panting and laughing with hands on knees, they were surrounded by trees.

“So are they,” Vistri panted, “Are they married now?”

He smirked, “You jealous?”

Vistri threw her head back and howled.

“Oh, really? The thought is that disgusting?”

“No!” she protested, “It’s not that!”

He grabbed her up and growled into her neck, “It’s not that?”

Putty. She was putty.

She just shook her head.

“Look, my dear. We’re in the woods again.”

His allusion to those first nights together raised her skin and sent a delightful shiver along it. There was almost a full moon, and its light sprinkled through the leaves and made the shadows shine.

Vistri stroked his cool cheeks with her fingers, “I feel so lucky—Are you cold?”

“If you’re offering to warm me up, then yes, I’m absolutely freezing.”

Even after all the time they’d had together, her lips still quivered as they met his. It felt like all the great love stories, and the dreams they bore. She was always afraid he didn’t feel it too, but the look in his eyes as he pulled away was always saturated with it. How dare she ever doubt him.

“I could take you here,” he offered in sultry song, “Just like old times.”

She chuckled, “Are they old times already?”

“I know it’s only been a while, but it feels longer. In a good way! The best way.”

“Not in the boring, dreadful way?”

“The complete opposite. You’re perfect and you thrill me. Two hundred years of torture passed in a blink, but nearing two years with you? Every moment is its own lifetime.”

[Just like with "To Belong", QueenMills and I will be doing a collab with our OCs. We will each write a one shot from the same events from our ship's perspective.]

The Black Masquerade (Durge; 2 yrs post-canon; Upper City - Eomane Manor)

Prompt: Dirty Talking, Pussy Eating/Blowjob, Breath Control

[[tw/cw: Teasing, explicit language]]

“Astarion and Vistri Ancunin of the Underdark!” the announcer called out.

Astarion muttered into her ear, “I thought these things were supposed to be anonymous.”

Vistri got up on her toes to whisper back, “What’s even the point of wearing masks?!”

The announcer, donning the puffiest, bluest breeches imaginable, made his annoyance clear. They hadn’t begun moving yet and were clearly bitching about him or his patron. He looked rather like a large, pissed off blueberry.

He cleared his throat to repeat, “Vistri and Astarion Ancunin of the Underdark!”

Astarion lowered his lips to Vistri’s ear, “Do you think he reversed the order of our names on purpose?”

“Let’s go!” she giggled, tugging on his arm.

“You’re wrinkling my costume,” he whined.

Astarion made sure to give the announcer a little trip as they passed by. Vistri bit her lip in order not to laugh.

The ballroom seemed to still as they appeared at the top of the stairs. Their costumes had been carefully planned and chosen to conjure the allure of vampirism without being too on the nose. Gods damned Petras kept insisting they should look like bats, but thankfully Petras had as much say as taste in this regard. They thought ravens were better suited as inspiration and decided to be adorned all over in black feathers flowing with gilded accents. The pitch-black drama of their long, winged trains adorned the pale Vampire and his periwinkle Drow, evoking the powerful and deadly allure of the Underdark itself.

The draping of their dress was complex, but with simple lines, and showed plenty of skin. It was really two parts, a tunic and a skirt, but passed for one whole. Its design deconstructed what was classic and created something no Baldur’s Gate ballroom had ever seen. If they didn’t already stand out enough, their black masks were as dark as a deep abyss and had long, curved beaks that looped all the way down to their waists. They’d be uncomfortably heavy to wear if Vistri hadn’t enchanted them with a Feather spell.

It was a bit of a risk to upstage everyone else as the outsiders, but when Vistri had asked Astarion how he wanted to approach their first impression, he scoffed and said, “How we always do. Drop in and immediately show them we’re better.”

[This one is turning out SO long, but SO worth it 🔥]

Working title: Partition, please! (Tav; 1 yr post-canon; Underdark - Spawn fortress)

Prompt: Fancy Dress

[[tw/cw: Teasing, sexual content, explicit language]]

“Hold still.”

“What do you mean, hold still? I’m not moving.”

Vistri laughed, “You are!”

“I’m doing no such thing!”

“Your eyes! You keep squinting them!”

Tonight was a big night. A whole year since they’d taken the fortress. They’d been so busy, it felt like a week. Now it was time to celebrate. Dress up and dance. Her hair and makeup already done, Vistri was helping Astarion, who couldn’t rely on a mirror.

“Astarion!”

“What?! I am simply sitting here.”

“You made me mess up!”

“What my eyes do when you poke at them is not something I can control!”

Vistri wheezed, “Hold on, hold on! I can fix it.”

“Stop laughing. It’s not me moving, it’s you laughing!”

“Sshhhh! I’m concentrating, you cunt.”

Astarion let out a long sigh, then stopped breathing to stay as still as possible. His unnerving stillness was an unsettling aid to her focus. His chest didn’t move, but he was right there, alive in his eyes. It slowed time, sharpened her mind.

“There,” she eventually said, and Astarion eagerly took a deep breath in. Seeing his chest move made her fly to his lips.

He chuckled and spoke against her kiss, “You’ll mess it up!”

“Haven’t done your lips yet.”

“I wasn’t talking about mine.”

“Shit!” Vistri ran over to the mirror.

One leg up on the vanity stool, she leaned into its reflection and whined. Astarion raised his brow, she’d given him quite the view. Neither of them were dressed yet, still in their undergarments. He found himself staring at the little strip of cloth snug between her thighs. He wanted to run his fingers along it, and then tear it down her legs with his teeth before sinking them into her.

“There’s always staying in,” he suggested.

“Don’t make me laugh!” she giggled, fixing her lips, “I’ll fuck it up again.”

“Fucked up my good work, mind you!”

Since Vistri had to do his hair and makeup, it was only fair he’d done hers.

She scoffed, “You’re so much prettier when you’re not cross, you know. A little advice for this evening.”

He smacked her tush in retaliation for her tease. She yelped.

It took her way less time to sort Astarion’s hair, but it always behaved so well. “It’s the only thing that’s ever consistently gone right in my life,” he always said.

“It’s the only thing that’s—”

“—Always gone right in your life. I know, love.”

“Oh? Do I bore you?”

“No!” she laughed, “No, you never bore me!”

[Them doing each other's makeup is so 😍 They're killing me 😭]

Tagging (no pressure, of course): @acciokaidanalenko @blkgirl-writing @magicallulu7 @nowandthane @vorchagirl @malabadspice @elfjpeg

[Read my other one shots: AO3 | Tumblr]

#vistarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion x durge #durge x astarion #seven snippets seven people #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #BrishFics #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers

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