#astarion x depressed reader

[tavyliasin]

Call this one an experiment in a little something different, darlings~

We all have hard days, and some harder than most. So, perhaps a few words of comfort from some of our most beloved characters.

I may expand on these later to be fuller pieces of comfort, but only if that's something people feel they'd wish to see. So do let me know if it should go on my list, for more with these characters and additions of other favourites too~ I can probably so a short piece from anyone, given a little time to get under their skin and find their motivation/voice.

There's going to be some mild tw/cw for mental health, mention of scars, and subtle implications of pain/hurt/etc.

Astarion: "Darling, look into my eyes. That's right, keep your focus right here. Listen to my voice, breathe slowly. No more tears alone, love, you are a light in my endless night and I shall not let your flame burn low. You and I, we are more than the scars we never should have earned, and we are certainly far stronger than any blade or bow that has ever tried to take us down. You still do not believe it? You are here, living and breathing, despite all of your worst days.  Now, one day at a time, darling, one foot in front of the other. No stumble can erase how far you have come." 

---

Halsin: "I am here, my heart, what do you need? No shadow curse or vile beast can reach you from within my arms, no force of nature can tear you from them either. Take all the time you need, my love, I will not leave. Your tears are your strength, not your shame. Let me teach you of all I see within you, your boundless potential proving the acorn can become the oak. I see how you shelter others with your leaves, so let us - let me - hold you through the storm. Your boughs may bend but they will not break." 

---

Abdirak: "You endure your pain so well Dear One, but you must stop believing you deserve it. Pain is a gift, it can be loving, and deliver that love to Loviatar. But it must never break, it must not be delivered without purpose. Do not be so foolish as to believe your own hand is purpose enough. Let me show you the right pains, Dear One, the pain that can heal you. No others shall be permitted to taint the art that is you with sullied brushes." 

---

Raphael: "Little Mouse, you have set quite the trap for yourself, haven't you? Need I remind you exactly who you made a deal with? No. I shall not permit our agreement to be tainted, not by any insignificant insect that would dare to sting my prey. Do not look so forlorn, Little Mouse, your nickname is not an insult. You might be in the presence of a cat, and you would do well to remember that little fact, but a mouse can be swift, cunning, and survive against impossible odds. That is why I trust you, and no other, to bring me what I want most. It is why I offer you a deal that is almost entirely in your favour - no other could expect such generosity, Little Mouse, so keep that in mind. You are my favourite client, and I shall let none break you. Not even yourself."

---

Haarlep: "Ah my Little Thief, you wish to steal yourself away? No, I shall not have that. How bold you were to look me in the eye and to broker your own deal! I could have killed you the moment you stepped into my abode uninvited, but that, Little Thief, would have been such a terrible waste. You noticed, did you not? When I saw you, when I truly saw you, that I did not see just a body stood brazenly staring me down without a scrap of cloth to cover you. I saw potential, so very much delicious potential. Come now, lie back, tell your dear Haarlep what troubles you, and I shall erase every last one from your mind."

---

A bonus, from Tavylia Sin, to one and all.

Tavylia: "Hello, darling. I see you, I really do. I can see how tightly you hold on, how easily the little hope you cling to can slip through your fingers. I know you may never read this, I know you may never hear it, but perhaps someone else like you will read this instead and that will be enough. You are too unkind to yourself, even as you show endless understanding and patience to those around you. They love you, darling, they cherish you even when you don't hear it. I know you need to hear it , though, and I don't begrudge you the comfort of soft words. Just...remember them, love. Remember every moment you were heard, every time you were adored just the way you are, and know those feelings are still there. A heart of love is not emptied by a single moment of you not believing in yourself, your worth is not measured by what you provide. Your worth is within yourself. I see it, others do too. Take comfort, darling, you are never ever alone. I am with you, near or far, and my love for you will not fade. If you cannot believe in yourself for now, trust that we believe in you. Rest, love, the dawn brings a new day and you are always a pleasant part of mine."

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

BG3 Companions (& Halsin) Realizing That Their GN! Tav Might Have PMDD

Characters: GN! Reader! Tav; Astarion; Gale; Wyll; Shadowheart; Karlach; Lae’zel; Halsin

Pairing(s): None, but it’s written as All Companions x Tav so if you have a romanced companion you prefer, you can imagine they have most of Tav’s favor. 

A/N: This is a highly indulgent imagine that absolutely NO ONE asked for (besides me lol) but I felt compelled to write it because I’ve been really struggling lately with some extreme PMS symptoms for the last few months or so. I don’t have a PMDD diagnosis yet or anything, but in looking up my symptoms I read about it and wanted to write this comfort piece for it. I kept Tav as gender-neutral as possible in this, but they do have a very active and very angry uterus in this.

TW: Discussion of Menstruation (Bleeding, Cramps/ Abdominal Pain), PMS, and PMDD Symptoms (Including Depression & Thoughts of Suicide) [Note: No one actually says ‘PMDD’, or Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder but that is the syndrome implied]; Brief Mentions of Sex (also small text)

Word Count: 3.7k

“Have any of you seen Tav lately?” Astarion asked, coming to sit next to a handful of his fellow companions seated around their camp’s fire. 

“Why? Has something else gone wrong?” Shadowheart teased back from where she lay against a log, a goblet of half-drunk wine in her hand. “Or perhaps, you’re looking for a bite to eat?” 

“Ha-ha,” Astarion mock laughed. “‘Bite,’ because I’m a vampire, how hilarious Shadowheart.” 

“I don’t know Astarion,” Gale countered from where he was perched on the other side of the former Sharran devotee, “I’d wager you secretly found it rather punny.” 

“Ugh,” Astarion wrinkled his nose at Gale’s words, failing to hide the amused smile that graced his lips. “Honestly Gale, as if the orb isn’t enough.”

Astarion, having lost interest in sitting next to his companions, settled for standing, crossing his arms, and jutting out one hip in his signature semi-annoyed pose.

“Come now Astarion, you can’t say Gale’s love for language comes as a surprise,” Wyll joined the conversation, sheathing his blade after having used Lae’zel’s whetstone to sharpen it. “Why I’d wager even Lae’zel can attest that in the farthest reaches of the Githyanki galaxy, the repetition of a wizard’s sharpened tongue precedes them.” 

Lae’zel huffed affirmatively, taking the opportunity to sharpen her sword. “Tchk. The Blade is right. It is no secret that wizards cannot help but run their mouths.” 

Karlach, having been seated quite literally in the middle of the conversation, from where she lay next to the campfire flames, burst out laughing, sitting up with a start. 

Shadowheart and Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle as well. 

Lae’zel’s eyes glowered as she looked at her other companions. “I do not see the cause for such antics” 

“Yes! Thank you Lae’zel!” Gale spoke up, wagging a finger in protest at the display of his friends. “A wizard’s intellectual prowess is no laughing matter.” 

“That which you discuss has yet to be seen.” Lae’zel rebuffed Gale yet again. 

“Pfft!” Shadowheart nearly choked on her drink as Karlach resumed her boisterous laughter, Wyll joining in this time as well. 

“Enjoying a night of merriment, are we?” Halsin’s deep voice cut through the laughs, his large form coming into view as the Druid emerged from the tree line. Shirtless, and still dripping, his presence brought a warm air to the camp, despite the night’s chilled air. 

“We certainly are now,” Astarion purred, admiring the druid’s half-naked form. 

“Mhhm,” Shadowheart took another sip of her wine. “For once, Astarion,  I’d have to agree.” 

Completely comfortable in his nudity, and unintimidated by the other’s ogling, Halsin strutted confidently over to where his fellow companions had gathered around the fire. “I had just finished bathing when Tav came to the lakeside. Said they were going to take a bath to unwind before bed.” 

“I’m surprised they didn’t ask you to join them,” Astarion mused, eyes still raking up and down Halsin’s sculpted form. 

Halsin gave a half smirk at the compliment, but his mood remained subdued. “They seemed upset. I offered to stay with them, even just to chat, but they insisted they wished to be left alone.“ 

Frowning, Gale scanned the faces of his companions, looking for a negative reaction, finding a similar dower one had made its way across Wyll’s and Karlach’s features. 

Looking to Karlach for solidarity, Wyll spoke up first: “Has anyone noticed Tav to be much more despondent as of late?” 

Karlach nodded. “Yesterday as well. Hells, it’s so odd to see them so down in the dumps. They’re usually leading the charge in making sure the rest of us are happy.”

“Has something changed? Perhaps Raphael contacted them yet again?” Gale supposed. 

Shadowheart shook her head. “Not that I know of. Besides, even if he did, this feels too familiar to just be a coincidence.” 

Lae’zel resheathed her newly sharpened blade before stalking over to the Selunite priestess. “Tchk. If you have something to share ghustil, say it outright.” 

Shadowheart rolled her eyes at the quarrelsome nature of Lae’zel’s words but continued speaking nonetheless. “If I recall correctly, a similar thing happened a while back, a few weeks perhaps.” 

“Yes,” Wyll joined. “I remember Tav crying after one of our battles.” 

“Come now,” Gale countered. “That’s hardly a mystery. It’s completely understandable why they might break down every now and then. It’s been a hard few months, even for a leader as strong as Tav.” 

“Perhaps,” Wyll relented. “Although, I can’t recall Tav giving a specific reason for their meltdown.” 

“‘Reason’?” Asatrion scoffed. “How about the fact that we’re all infected with Mindflayer parasites which could hatch at any moment? On top of which we are expected to destroy this Absolute death cult, lest all of Baldur’s Gate be turned into a tentacle wasteland!” 

“It is enough to make one’s blood run cold.” Gale agreed. 

“I do think Shadowheart may have a point.” Halsin put his two cents in. “I do recall around two months ago, Tav coming to me for healing, relief for abdominal cramps.”

“Oh, well that settles it, doesn’t it? It’s merely that ‘time of the month’, rather unfortunate and annoying, but hardly devastating for our capable leader.” Astarion sounded unconvinced, as he looked down to admire his recently shaped fingernails. 

Halsin shook his head. “I sensed there was more they wished to request aid for. They were holding something back. What exactly and why, I am unsure.” 

“Maybe they’ve just got a tough go of it. I know my whole body was thrown entirely out of whack waking up in Avernus. It took years for me to feel like myself again.” Karlach gestured at her many scars as she did so. 

All the time, Lae’zel had been listening intensely, a curious look across her face. “What is this ‘time of the month’?” She repeated. “Is it another,” she paused, making sure to pronounce the following word right, “Tiefling trait?” 

Karlach shook her head. “We’re not exempt from it,” she replied honestly. “But no, it’s not just tieflings.” 

“You mean to tell me that female Githyanki don’t have periods?” Shadowheart asked, having thrown all her pretenses out along with the last of her wine. 

“As I have said before ghustil, we do not become parents through sex. When it is time, we are chosen by Vlaakith to lay the eggs of our young.” 

“And this, ‘egg-laying’, as you call it… it, isn’t um, gender specific?” Gale, ever the wizard, just had to know. 

“No. Sex is irrelevant. The only thing of importance is whether you are called by Vlaakith to bear that which houses her future children.” 

“... Right,” Gale answered, feeling rather queasy. “I think that’s all I’d like to know if you don’t mind.”  

“Can we please get back to the point?” Astarion interrupted, rather impatient. “Tav is spiraling or having a mental breakdown or something, and apparently, only the Cleric and Druid noticed, how cliche.” 

 “Alright, Astarion. What do you suggest?” Wyll asked. 

“Well, obviously we need to find out what’s wrong with them so we can fix it.” 

“If it is this ‘time-of-month’, then why not stop it before it comes? You know when it nears, why not strike it down before it starts?” Lae’zel suggested, still not fully understanding what a ‘period’ was for a human. 

“That may not solve all the difficulties Tav is experiencing.” Halsin finally pulled his shirt back over his head, much to the others' collective disappointment. “There is more, although I am uncertain if I should share it, as Tav shared it with me in confidence.” 

“If it could help us help Tav, perhaps it is best to share this once?” Gale suggested. “Normally, I’m not one for shifting loyalties, but I too, have some things I think it’s better I share with the group.” 

“Now that you mention it, I do recall Tav saying something off-color last night,” Astatrion added. 

“What did they say?” Karlach asked.

“They mentioned they had been feeling rather down. Really down. So down, that they, well…” Astarion gave an exasperated huff, clearly uneasy with the topic. “...Tav said that sometimes, they feel like giving up.” 

“What did you tell them?” Wyll asked, encouraging Astarion to go on. 

“I said of course they feel like that! I mean who wouldn't? Between the Mindflayer parasites, the constant goblin attacks, the thieves, and the looming threat of this Absolute Cult, who wouldn't want to lie down for a few hundred years or so?” 

“I must admit, Tav’s confession to me a few months back was similar in nature,” Gale attested. “They expressed how defeated they felt as if nothing they did mattered. All the battles, all the small victories, it didn’t change anything. The Absolute was still going strong, the threat of the world’s end still looming… They asked me if any of it was worth it.” 

Halsin nodded. “I fear I was told more of the same. Tav divulged that they sometimes wondered if I, if we, would fare better on our journey without them.”

A silence fell over the companions, a cerebral, unsettling kind of silence, the kind one could feel resonating, laden within one's bones. 

“Shit,” Karlch said, the first to speak. “I mean, I knew they were upset sometimes, but I just figured we all were.” 

“Halsin,” Shadowheart started, gently. “When Tav told you they thought we’d be better off without them, what did you say?” 

“I embraced them and told them that in no uncertain terms, we needed them to lead us. I reminded Tav how amazing they are, and how, even though they themselves cannot see it, they are truly a marvel to behold. I expressed gratitude for them saving The Grove, for making peace between the tieflings and the druids.”

Wyll nodded along to Halsin’s words, recalling all that he and Tav had managed to accomplish together in such a short time, despite all the odds stacked against them. 

Halsin cleared his throat, swallowing down an ardent wave of emotion that threatened to escalate before he continued: “Lastly, I told them how I felt about them, how we all felt about them, and that should they ever require reminding, they need only ask.” 

From where he stood, Astarion sulked, a guilty expression making its way across his face. “I, I didn’t know. Godsdammit! I should have seen…”

“You cannot blame yourself Astarion.” Halsin did his best to assure his pale elf friend. “Even with Tav’s confession, I fear I did not heed their words the way I should have. Perhaps if I connected the dots more quickly, if I recorded the dates of their depressive episodes, we could have come to this conclusion weeks ago.” 

“What conclusion is that exactly?” Lae’zel enquired. “You say it is not this ‘time-of-month’, and yet, you make no other claims. What cause do you reference?” 

“It’s rare, but sometimes it happens that a human’s reproductive organs seemingly conspire against them,” Gale answered. “Well, more than is to be expected, I should clarify.” 

“Ah. So it is inferior istik reproductive organs to blame for our dear leader’s shakiness. Then perhaps they need be cut out.” 

“Lae’zel!” Gale gasped. 

Lae’zel crossed her arms as if to say ‘what’? 

“It needn’t come to that,” Halsin cut in, diffusing the situation. “That is not to say it’s not a possibility, but only in the most dire and extreme cases.” 

“Yes,” Shadowheart agreed. “And despite my being a cleric and Halsin being a druid, neither one of us is qualified for such procedures.” 

Lae’zel took a moment to process their words. “Indeed, I see. In that case, it is wise that that scalpel-wielding bard is not currently accompanying us. Vlaakith knows his surgical skills are nothing more than mere talk, given his removal of Tav’s eye.” 

“... Is that a joke?” Astarion asked, dumbfounded at Lae’zel’s choice of deadpan delivery amid such a dire discussion.   

“Do not look so surprised shka'keth, I am considered most humorous amongst my people.” 

“You know what?” Wyll butt in, “That, I do believe.” 

 Astarion scoffed. “Well, perhaps, Lae’zel could use her humor to cheer Tav up. Unless any of you have any other ideas?” 

“I think perhaps it would be better for us to sit Tav down for a heart-to-heart. Remind them how much they mean to us.” The Blade of Frontiers did not beat around the bush. 

“I agree,” Halsin seconded. “Perhaps the message coming from us all would be better received than it was coming from me alone.” 

“It’s worth a try,” Karlach agreed. “Gods know we care about them. And there’s no way we would have gotten this far without them.” 

“The tiefling is right. Tav may be istik, but they are still our leader.” Lae’zel spoke up, roused by her companions' sudden ire. “We have a duty to them to finish this, to cleanse these parasites from our bodies and destroy The Absolute.”

Shadowheart sighed, before righting herself and walking over to Lae’zel’s side. “If Lae’zel’s in, then I might as well join. Wyll, what about you? Up for an intervention?” 

Wyll looked at Karlach, catching her eye. Following a triumphant smirk from Karlach, the duo nodded their respective affirmations before joining Halsin, Astarion, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart where they stood. 

And that just left…

“Gale? Care to join us? Or will you be too busy pinning over your ex-goddess girlfriend?” Astarion ribbed. 

Gale shook his head, Astarion’s antics not being a new experience for him at all. 

“I’m not pining, and, even if I were, Tav is much more important at the moment. Why, in fact,” Gale’s voice got quieter, more serious, “Some nights I fear I would give up The Weave, hells, even eternity if it meant Tav would be happy.” 

No one else said anything in response, they didn't need to. It was clear to all of them, that they all loved Tav deeply, even on the days, or weeks Tav couldn't find any love for themselves. 

“Do you think Tav would be done bathing by now? Not that I’d mind getting a little peak, though I’m not sure how they’d feel about that.” Astarion mused. 

“Astarion,” Wyll warned.

“I’m only kidding. Mostly.” 

“I’m sure they’ll be back shortly. Let us prepare what we wish to say so that when they do arrive-” Halsin started, but was cut off by a rustling coming from just beyond the treeline. 

“Wait,” Tav’s voice cut through the air, a welcome bit of color amidst an otherwise chilly night, “Who’s arriving?” 

“Tav!” The companions turned in shock, feeling sheepish, as if they had just been caught in the act. 

“We were hoping you’d return soon,” Shadowheart admitted. 

“There are some things we’d like to discuss,” Gale added. 

Tav pinched the bridge of their nose. “Dammit Astarion, did you go around trying to bite everyone again? We’ve talked about this.” They let out an exasperated sigh. 

“What? Why-?! How dare you accuse me of such a thing!” Astarion puffed his chest up, making himself appear larger. “I’ll have you know we were actually discussing-” 

“We’re worried about you soldier,” Karlach interrupted Astarion’s indignant outburst. “We see how hard this has been on you, on all of us.” 

“We want you to know,” Wyll continued the sentiment for her, “That we care about you. And whatever hardships you endure, we’ll endure them with you.” 

“Oh.” 

Their companion’s words stopped Tav dead in their tracks. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. And um, that’s really sweet of you. It’s just,” Tav frowned, “How do I put this? Um… As far as The Absolute and the Mindflayers are concerned, I’m grateful for your help, I am, really. But there are just some things that are-”

“Private,” Astarion finished for Tav. He walked over to Tav, before lowering his voice, speaking only to them. “I think you know,” he whispered, his expression suddenly melancholy, “Better than anyone, why each one of us knows how you feel.” 

And with that, the damn burst, Tav simply couldn't hold it in any longer. 

Their face contorted. They bit their lip before their mouth turned upside down, their nose wrinkled, and their eyes began to water. 

“It’s just been so hard!” Tav cried, their own voice barely more than a whisper. “And just when I think things are okay, that I’m finally better, it all just comes crashing down around me again!” Tav sobbed, their arms dropping to their sides in defeat. 

Moving to comfort them, Astarion placed a tentative hand on their shoulder, gently patting Tav with a ‘there-there’. His eyes darted back to his companions, a begging, uncomfortable look evident on his face. 

Karlach moved first, coming to Tav’s side opposite Astarion. Despite her engine being temporarily fixed, she knew her skin was still hot to the touch. Still, Karlach hoped her closeness would be its own comfort. 

“We’ve got you soldier.” Karlach wrapped the end of her tiefling tail around Tav’s calf. “Just let it all out, it’s okay.” 

Tav sobbed even harder at her words, pulling a rather flustered Astarion in for a tight embrace. 

“Ah. A little help over here!” Astarion whispered harshly past Tav’s ear, their face wedged between his arms and chest, and their tears and snot beginning to dampen his shoulder. 

Shadowheart chuckled, amused that despite him being such a flirt when he wanted, Astaron was still rather unfamiliar with the more platonic, or should she say, non-sexual forms of intimacy. “Step aside.”

Moving over to the huddle sandwich that was Astarion, Tav, and Karlach, Shadowheart wedged her way in between Astarion and Tav. “Just try not to drool too much on my top. It is leather after all.” 

“Tchck, Shadowheart.” Lae’zel chided. She walked over to the huddle, standing a safe six inches away, her arms crossed and brows furrowed. “Clothes are meaningless compared to a fellow soldier.” 

“I’m surprised I find myself agreeing, but Shadowheart, Lae’zel does have a point,” Gale concluded. “Tav’s emotional state is much more important than any item of clothing, or inanimate object.” 

“Says the wizard who eats shoes,” Astarion ribbed from under his breath. 

Gale clicked his tongue at the vampire spawn’s remark, but otherwise paid his pale companion no mind. 

“Besides,” Gale continued, undeterred. “I can always do another load of laundry. Should you ever need a shoulder to cry on, know that mine will always be available, tears or otherwise.” 

Tav nodded, enthusiastically grateful, switching from Shadowheart’s shoulder to Gale’s. 

Sighing, as the cool purple velvet rubbed against their cheek, Tav began to slow their breathing, gaining better control of the sobs that had previously uncontrollably wracked their body. 

“We may not know exactly what it is you’re going through, but that doesn’t make you any less of a leader worthy of our time and affection,” Wyll spoke up as he came to join the hug pile. “And sharing your fears and sadness does not make you a burden, it makes you strong.” 

Tav wailed once more, nodding emphatically as they did so. Deep down, they knew all that their friends had shared to be true, but they were not able to convince themselves of it on their own. 

“And if this sadness of yours comes at the same time every month, it may indicate a hormonal condition. Should that be the case, there are many treatments and spells we can cast to ease your pain.” 

“Really?” Tav asked through sniffles. 

“Indeed,” Halsin nodded, having walked over to also join his gathered companions. “Although there is something simpler, something I always have readily available.” 

“Don’t you dare—” Astarion started. 

At the same time Lae’zel spoke her own words of protest: “Do it druid, and you may very well live to regret it.” 

Tav ignored their outbursts and instead asked Halsin what he had in mind. 

“This,” he said, before outstretching his arms and encompassing everyone in a great big bear hug. 

Squished between their dear companions, their friends, their allies in this fight, and the next, Tav, for the first time in days, began to feel truly loved. 

The world may have looked bleak and hopeless, and with a raging uterus, it may have looked even more so, but as long as Tav had their friends, they would never know true defeat. 

…

Squashed between an equally irate Githyanki and a rather sentimental wizard, Astarion wriggled, trying to break free, but to no avail. Turning his head left to face his frog-esque friend, Astarion whispered threats under his breath.  

“I say the next time he wildshapes into a bear, we put a pretty pink collar around his neck and march him into town as punishment.”

“Chk. I find that offer rather agreeable.” 

“I dunno. I rather like this kind of medicinal approach.” Karlach said, feeling overjoyed to simply be touched. 

“You know he can hear you, right?” Wyll, ever the pragmatist, spoke from across the expanse of Halsin’s broad chest in order to address Astarion. 

Halsin nodded in the affirmative upon hearing Wyll’s words.

Astarion groaned. “Well, clearly he has now!” 

“And here I thought vampires were stealthy.” Shadowheart teased. 

“Oh, trust me, darling, all of your times shall come. Count on it!” 

“Astarion?” Tav‘s muffled voice asked from where their face was squished into Gale’s chest. 

Tav managed to pull their head away from Gale’s purple robe just long enough to give Astarion their best puppy-dog-eyed look. “Be nice? Pleaseeee?” They drew out the end of the ‘please,’ innocently batting their eyes as they did so. 

“... Fine. But don’t get used to it,” Astarion resigned before tossing his hair. “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Mhhm,” Tav agreed, putting their face back against Gale’s velvet-covered chest. 

They knew this moment couldn’t last forever, and it certainly wouldn’t solve all their problems— mind flayers, hormones, or otherwise. But they could at least stay put like that for just a minute longer. 

Or as a matter of fact? Make that two. 

A/N 2.0: So there it is! I hope you enjoyed. This is definitely something I needed to read like two weeks ago, and also a month ago, and then the month before that lol. 

After this, we are back to our regularly scheduled programming. I will make an upcoming ask list, just so everyone is clear as to what is up and coming.

As always Please Like, but most importantly, REBLOG!!!

(Reblogs mean more than Likes because they project my work to a larger audience.)

And If you like my work, Consider Buying Me A Coffee <3. 

[the-masked-ram]

Fics for Gaza

Here I am taking the plunge. I'm a small blog but fast writer even when it comes to my slower times. So might as well put it to good use.

Planning on joining this fundraiser run by @ficsforgaza and help make everyone happy with some content in the process. Here is my plan of action for my wip and donation costs.

To participate- please make a donation to a vetted fundraiser and send a screenshot/proof of your donation to me in a DM. PLEASE MAKES SURE TO CENSOR ALL YOUR PERSONAL INFORMATION. (internet safety and all that jazz). In the message also let me know what fic you are donating to and I will adjust expected word counts. These screenshots are merely for keeping things as honest as possible and will be shared with @ficsforgaza

-I obviously will not be taking the money myself. Please send it to one of the vetted fundraisers mentioned in the link below.

$5.00 per 800 words or a full drabble series installment

Link to vetted places to donate here!

More fundraisers here!

As soon as 50% of any of the fics are sponsored I will automatically start on them.

Drabble series-

Sweet and Sour- Ren Kaji x Fem Reader Drabble Series

Your the new girl in the city. You are tough, sassy, but don't know a lick about the gangs, and if your honest you couldn't care less. But something about Ren Kaji catches your eye. He may snap and bark like a feral dog, but you can see through it and he knows it too. Slowly, you become his sanctuary even though you are the one person he's most afraid won't accept him. And he thought he was past all that. (NSFW)

5.00 for full installment

Read Part One here!

False Immunity- Hiei x Fem Reader Drabble Series

Where Hiei learns the ins and out of human courtship. (NSFW)

Find Part One-Six on my masterlist here! 5.00 for full installment

Multichap Fics-

Flawed Hope- Astarion x OC (BG3)

Brit was a paralegal, someone who had a normal life and enjoyed what she did for the most part. Yet, the only true excitement she felt lately was when she played Baldur's Gate Three. A simple video game brought her more joy than her friends or fleeting romances. One night as depression crushes her she wishes to live one day in BG3. Her wish is granted, however the world of BG3 needs her far longer than her wish had originally intended. And the worst part? She does not get along with her favorite vampire in the slightest. (NSFW)

Read the first four chaps here! WC: 1961/4000

Falling for Frogs- Sebastian x Fem Reader (SDV)

You are game developer about to make their debut into the market. The world you are about to venture into isn't exactly friendly to those of the feminine persuasion and as such you have flown under the radar using a masculine alias online. After a complete mental break down at a very important convention in Zuzu you realize you need to get away from the city for a bit so you can finish your game. Your best friend who runs a farm in Stardew Valley invites you to come stay with her. However as you stay there and get to know the locals, you realize the cute boy you saw at the con is her neighbor. What's even worse is he remembers you and just to add salt to the wound, he's one of your Kickstarters. (NSFW) WC: 309/3000

Read the first three chaps here!

The Unseen and Those Forgotten- Dabi x Fem Reader (BNHA)

The age of the Greek gods is long past. Dabi is one of the few left, his name in the ancient days had been Hades. Now he skulks among the humans, as a deity at half strength. With the old gods dying, the new ones have taken control of the humans’ feeble minds. There is a storm on the horizon though, quite literally, the end of days is nipping at mortality’s heels and the key to unlocking Kronos’s resting place, the only creature strong enough to put a stop to the apocalypse, is you. Sadly you have no idea what part you will play, after all, you are just an office worker who has an affinity for plants.... WC: 0/2000

Find the first three chaps on my masterlist here!

The Hellebore Rift- Hayato Suo x Fem Reader (Wind Breaker)

The town of Makochi has changed and so have all the gangs within it. Gone are the days of allies and rival schools. Gone are the days of delinquents battling for top spots and coming home with happy smiles from good fist fights. Now the world has been ripped apart by rifts that tear the very dimensions in two, spewing forth gigantic blood-thirsty monsters. It has forced the gangs to protect only their parts of town from everyone. Even the civilians, even those they once called friends. With those rifts and monsters, humans were gifted with powers, yet everything good always comes with a fall out. You are one of those few, blessed with the ability to Guide, to save those Espers from the toxicity that their own powers created within themselves when they protect their parts of town. You live in a small section Makochi outside any of the gangs control with a scant few Espers to call your own… or well you did until the day Hayato Suo found you. WC 313/2000

(Chapter one just started)

Oneshots-

Dog Park with Megumi (no title yet)- You don't have dogs but you find yourself at the dog park everyday because you can't have pets. That's where you meet Megumi Fushiguro (NSFW)WC: 0/15000

A Bouquet of Deadly Thorns- Hanahaki Soulmate Gojo x Fem Reader

The world now is riddled with the phenomenon known as soulmates. You don't know yours but before you can even think about finding them, you must get rid of your growing feelings for Satoru Gojo, the only problem is they've grown suffocating and you've started coughing up blood and flower petals. (NSFW) Current WC: 3590/8000 donation additions: 50.00- 8k words

Tetsuro Kuroo bar night (no title yet)- The first night you meet Kuroo he was celebrating with his friends who'd just won their volley ball game. You were drinking away your sorrows yet again from another shitty date. Fate had a funny way of making you forget things when he gets dared to make a move on you. (NSFW) WC: 0/10,000

My name in your mouth- Professional Poker Player!Suo Hayato x CardShark Fem!Reader

Suo Hayato is well known in the gambling circuit, he strikes fear in all his opponents. Terrified that they will lose all the winnings and perhaps even worse to him. You however are a dark horse, a rising star lurking in the shadows among the tables, and you have the arrogance to back it up. You take Suo on and surprise him in more ways then one. But he's desperate to wrest back control from you and the rising sexual tension between the two of you gives him the perfect excuse. (NSFW) WC: 0/7000

Single Drabbles- 5.00 for a full drabble

Jo Togame festival day (sfw) - Link

Jo Togame the baths (NSFW) - Link

Nobara/fem! reader (jjk) (NSFW) shopping day, in the dressing room

Himuro tatsuya/male! reader (knb) (NSFW) pining, street ball rivals

Seishiro Nagi/gn!reader (blue lock) (SPICEY (not full nsfw)) comfort, lazy day, reuniting after long distance for a while

Sebastain/fem! reader (SDV) (nsfw) phone sex

Astarion/male!reader (BG3) (NSFW) dry humping, semi public sex

Suo Hayato/fem!reader (wind breaker)(NSFW) overstimulation

[chloesolace]

Hello! May I request an Astarion x reader?

Reader is a happy girl who likes to help others. However, they help others because they feel inadequate. Astarion notices they slip into a depressive episode (which at first, they hid well), and comfort ensues. If possible, could s/h or s/h scars be included? In need of some comfort. (No suggestiveness, please).

Thank you!

Moonlight - Astarion x Reader

summary: You meet Astarion at night while the others are sleeping, and he quickly realizes something is wrong. He was been observing you rather closely, which makes it hard to hide your pain from him, but you quickly realize that perhaps you do not need to hide from him after all.

pairing: Astarion x Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mentions of self-harm, scars

a/n: Thank you so much for this request <3 and I hope that you are well, anon. I hope that this story gives you some comfort.

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info

The sky had long turned dark, illuminated only by the stars and moon, their distorted reflections staring back at you from the surface of the river. Around you, crickets chirped, and a handful of fireflies danced underneath the soft glow of the moon. You turned your head to the side, staring at the dark grass beneath your feet as you exhaled deeply.

Your party had set up camp nearby since the river was a good source of food and fresh water. Now, everyone lay asleep in their tents. You had tried to sleep, feeling it tear at your eyelids mockingly, yet your body had never allowed you to drift off, keeping you awake for reasons you could not fathom. After what felt like hours, you gave up and decided to seek solace by the water. It often calmed you when you were nervous or sad, but tonight was different. 

“Did you want to go fishing? I fear it might be too late in the night for that,” a voice behind you said, causing you to tense. You turned to find Astarion, an amused smile on his face. You averted your gaze, wrapping your arms around your upper body.

Astarion clicked his tongue and took a step toward you. “Silence? Come on, darling, you’re more interesting than that.” 

“I’m in no mood, Astarion,” you said hesitantly, hoping your words wouldn't anger him. Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and brushed past him, leaving the riverbank. Perhaps some fresh air would help you fall asleep easier now.

"Hey, wait," he said, his voice more serious than before. When you didn't stop, he continued, "(y/n). Please."

Your steps faltered, and you breathed out, turning your head in his direction. Astarion stared back at you, letting the silence between you stretch for an awkward moment as you looked at him expectantly. Mentally exhausted, you didn't attempt to initiate conversation, keeping silent until he spoke again.

"I didn't want you to feel like you have to leave," he said, any hint of teasing playfulness from earlier vanishing from his voice. A firefly circled behind him, and you kept your eyes locked on it until it flew away, meeting his gaze only when it did.

"It's okay," you replied with a raspy, quiet voice and a dry throat. A shiver ran down your spine as a breeze enveloped you both, too cool for your simple garments. The nights were getting colder, a sign that you were moving further north.

"You do this a lot, you know," Astarion remarked as he lowered himself to a fallen-over tree trunk, sitting down and observing you. You furrowed your eyebrows as you studied him, arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Do what?" you asked.

He made a gesture in the air that pointed to you from head to toe, an elegant twirl of his fingers. Yet, his serious gaze remained fixed on you. "It's like you fall into this void sometimes. Your eyes become empty, and your face paler." He paused, seemingly trying to find ways to put it into words. "It seems as though you stop feeling for a moment."

You swallowed, blinking away the threatening tears as you noticed him pat the empty spot next to him. His eyes found yours again, pleading. Once, you had thought his red irises to be menacing and fearful, but now you realized that after spending all this time with him, having him save your life again and again, you found comfort in them. It calmed you to look at him, the way his gaze softened when his eyes landed on you, no matter what kind of enemy you were fighting. The way he had made you feel safe when you kissed first, and you had done the same for him.

Still, you hesitated, before you sat down next to him, resting your hands in your lap as you stared out at the water. You hadn’t shown him your vulnerable sides yet, and today was one of those nights where everything weighed heavily upon your shoulders. You watched as dragonflies created small waves when they touched the surface, distorting the image of the moon further. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you dropped your head.

"I know what it's like to feel like you're not enough, you know," he whispered, his gaze settling on the faraway trees behind the river. Their crowns blended into a large, dark wall of leaves that occasionally rustled in the wind. You did not look up but listened intently.

"You try to fill these gaps by giving to others what you wish you could receive yourself," he said, not in an accusatory tone but a calm, observing one. There was resonance in his voice, too. You dug your fingers into the hard bark of the trunk you were sitting on, your breathing becoming more shallow as you continued fighting tears. A hand on your shoulder made you tense.

You turned to look at Astarion, his gaze soft as he observed you with empathy. It was a side of him you didn't see often. Your hand pressed against your chest, where your heart was located. It was as if it was physically aching, causing your upper body to cower in defeat.

"I sometimes feel like no matter what I do, it's never enough," you said through sobs, not caring about the tears falling from your cheeks anymore. "I can't make anyone happy, and everyone leaves me. It's like I'm cursed."

Raising your arm to wipe your tears, your sleeve fell, revealing several thin lines of elevated skin on your forearm. They differed in color from your regular skin tone. Some were old, almost faded, while others still had dry blood on them.

His jaw tensed as his eyes locked on the scars, his hand reaching for yours. "(y/n)," he said in a low voice, placing a hand on your cheek to turn your head towards him, capturing your eyes with his. 

"You are possibly the most remarkable person I have ever met. You have a kind heart, the kindest I know. Those who do not recognize your worth do not deserve to stay in your life. You give so much of yourself to others, but don't forget that you need some gentleness yourself. You—" His voice broke for a second, and he averted his gaze as he seemingly looked for the right words. Then, he looked at you again, his eyes determined. 

"You are the hero I always wished for. My only regret is that the Gods have kept you from me for so long."

You sniffled, cupping his cheek for a moment before pulling him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. You inhaled his scent and felt his protective arms around you. He was not ready to let you go.

"I will not leave you, (y/n)," he said, as if to underline your thoughts. "Loving others is always easier than loving oneself. Perhaps we can teach each other how to do the latter."

You hugged him more tightly, enjoying the moment for a second before pulling away to meet his eyes; they were filled with worry. Lips curling up into a soft smile, you stroked his cheek gently, nodding at him.

"Yes," you said finally, your voice hoarse from having cried and barely talked, yet your words were not any less significant. "Yes, I believe we can." Your hand brushed over his back, feeling his own scars beneath the thin fabric of his tunic. He had shown you them before, and opened up to you about their origin. You had been there for him then, much like he was there for you now.

The night continued, and you and Astarion sat by the river, holding each other. The silence that followed was comfortable, despite both of your scars lying bare. The moon hung low, still casting reflections on the water as the rustle of the leaves whispered to you. Astarion held you tightly, and you finally felt safe enough to close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder. Sleep took you soon after, and your spirit finally seemed at ease, even if just for tonight. 

[teaffrogy]

Anxiety [Astarion]

SUM. Anxiety and stress have been eating at you. Till you broke.

Fem Reader(You/Tav) X Astarion (takes place in Act 3)

A/N: I am not feeling well mentally, and I just want comfort, so I am giving myself some sort of comfort. I am struggling with anxiety and depression. I am seeing a therapist, but my life is making me want to quit.

Tw(?): Talks a lot about Anxiety and stress

You haven't slept.

It's been two days since you haven't been able to sleep properly. You'd stir in your bedroll or just look outside of the flaps of your tent. What was keeping you awake? Anxiety.

Anxiety of going Back Home, getting this weird tadpole out of you, having to find find the two neteratones who two powerful people have, help Karlach with her engine and worry about what happens next for her, and so so but so much more from everyone else in the camp. Your stomach was killing you. You'd even throw up at random because of the stupid fucking Anxiety that was eating at you. Every encounter leads to new situations that cause even more anxiety.

And some of your companions Have noticed you not leaving your tent for two days. One is because you fall asleep and wake up super Late, the other is because you don't want to go out. You haven't been leaving because you don't want to encounter more situations And the current ones, you are avoiding everything, everyone. And it makes you feel even more worse about yourself than ever because of how much you've been avoiding it.

Astarion would come in to Ask if you are alright but you just said yes. He even asks you to go on a night walk with him since he saw you not sleep at night. But you kindly refused saying he needs to rest too. He would say you two could simply stay. in your tent and he Can just read. But you said no. Shadowheart would come to your tent to ask if you are alright, you'd say you're fine, just tired, but she knew something was wrong and it was bugging her. Gale too, he'd ask or even bring you your favorite meal he made but you wouldn't even touch it. If you did eat You'd just end up throwing it up.

“Do you think she is pregnant?” Karlach asks. “You think so? She's been throwing up.” Shadowheart says. “She is not pregnant!” Gale yells. “And how would you know?” Astarion asks, and Gale says nothing. “Well, I don't think it's because of her being pregnant, I think she'd know if she is. Plus, she seems down.” Wyll says as he looks at your tent, which you haven't left again. Halsin looks at your tent and sees you turn on a candle. You move around, and half your body is out of the tent, but go back inside and turn the candle off. Halsin sighs and looks at everyone. “She is avoiding something or someone.” He says.

Someone? But who?

And they started to point fingers at who. First, it was Astarion(of course) they had thought that their relationship had ended which caused you to lock yourself Away, but it hasn't, it is a good relationship. Then it was Gale. Maybe she was scared he'd blow up! But it was false. You two had talked privately about this. Then it was Wyll. Maybe she was scared of Misora? But no, you had told him you wanted to fight her. Then Karlach, again, burns and blows up. But again, you had ressured Her that you trusted her. Then Shadowheart, her beliefs in Shar maybe were too much for you. Again, you told her as well that it didn't matter to you at all. Halsin…there wasn't really anything wrong. No one had nothing to say about him.

So what was it?

Laezel? But she said that you two were good, that for them to assume something like that was idiotic.

And They gave up. It was either because you hated someone and they didn't know why or you were pregnant. Which are two bad options, but what else?

You couldn't sleep again.

Everyone was in their tents, asleep. You were culled up into a ball as you thought of everything that simply kept coming, and your stomach was killing you again. You wanted to throw up, but at the same time, you didn't. You didn't want to throw up what you had eaten. Gale had made your favorite food. It would be sad if you just threw it up.

And the thoughts are quiet now. They just stopped. You breathed carefully and heard footsteps. It's Astarion. He probably came back from a haunt. You smiled at the thought of him, but the thoughts came back.

What would he think of me now? Does He think I'm disgusting? God, what if he just wants to end things? Does he love me? What am I doing wrong?

It was getting hard to breathe. Your eyes would move from one place to another in seconds and you sat up. Your vision starts to blur as you try to look around. You try to speak but you just make a weird sound like a cry. You cover your mouth and just cry. You hugged the pillow again and covered your face in it as you cried. You could Feel your pillow Start to get soaked as your tears would hit it.

And the flaps to your tent Open. You look up and see Astarion. “Darling?” He calls. You were a mess. Your whole tent was really. He looks at you, hugging your pillow as you try to muffle up the sobs and cries. He sits next to you, not really knowing what to do. He was never really comforted before. Only by you after Cazedor Died. He was crying, shaking and you simply pulled him into a hug and let Him cry it all out until he stopped.

He pulls the pillow away from your face and you sob, avoiding looking at him. He lifts your chin Up and you look into his eyes, his gorgeous red eyes. They reminded you of garnets. Those eyes that shined after he had drinken from you. But today, they looked hurt, worried.

He gently kisses your forehead and then pulls you into a hug. You stood there, frozen for at least 5 seconds before your eyes started to water again, and you wrapped your arms around him. And you just cried. You just cried as you hugged Him, and that's when you spilled it all. “I am so tired!” You say and bury your face on his chest. Your crying starts to calm down. “I have so much to do. I- I just-” You sniffed and sighed. “I am tired. I haven't slept for 2 days, and I have such bad anxiety.” You say as you stopped hugging, but he still is holding on to you. You fidget with the end of the button to his shirt. “Wyll, we have To help him rescue his dad, Karlach, we need to find Dammon so he can see if he can fix her engine, Shadowheart, She has these people after her because she betrayed Shar and now we need to also find her parents, Gale, We Find a book and now he wants the crown of the Elder brain, Laezel well… she is cool.” You smiled, and Astarion chuckles at the end. But he notices everything that is put on you.

Everyone expects you to do something or help them with something. Make huge decisions For them as well. Since the very beginning. “You don't think I'm cool?” He asks and you nod. “You aren't. You are amazing.” You say and he hugs you tighter. “I'm sorry.” you say.

“Don't Apologize Darling.” He says as he pulls from the hug to look at you. “You may feel like you are doing this all by yourself. But you aren't.” He says as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “I'm here. And also I suppose everyone else here as well.” He says and you nod. You felt like crying again but your head hurt. “Also I heard you all talking and what the hell is up with you all thinking I am pregnant?”

“I never thought you were! You know I am not good with kids. I am not risking it to burst myself instead yo-”

“Shush!” You cover his mouth and he grins. “You are sometimes too loud.” You say and he nods. And you two are quiet. You don't know if you would sleep tonight or Would even leave your tent. You were still anxious as to what was coming. But, at least you know you aren't alone now.

“I know you won't sleep tonight, Darling. Would I interest you in a bath? And after a lovely love session?” He says as he holds your hand and brings it to his lips, placing a kiss. He then gets close to you and kisses you. You smile in the kiss. After a couple of minutes of kissing, you pull away and look at him. You nod. "I'd love that.” You say as you hold on to his hand.

“I love you Astarion.” It felt weird saying it. You two don't say it often, but it has a lot of meaning for you two after everything you two have gone through.

“I love you too Darling.”

[fangsyouverymuch01]

Just friends

Summery: The hero of Baldur's Gate greatest battlefield is now drunkenly returning home from the tavern because your connection to the arcane world is dying, and it has been for months. Adding to it, is your unresolved feelings from a certain vampire you've sworn to forget.

Rolan and Lia, aiding you in your search for answers, are determined to divert your mind from troubles. Unbeknownst to you, this night is destined to change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav, Astarion x f!reader , Rolan x reader

Warnings: Fightning, sort of depressed reader, drinking, Astarion being a prick

Tags: Slow burn, friends to lovers

Note: This took way too long to write, and tbh I'm scared to publish it. Had a hard time coming up with a plot that would make sense (and yes this is the underdark/menzoberranzan fic)

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy and stick around for more parts in the future.

In front of you is an array of literature varying from books, scrolls and notes. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Picking up yet another scroll and unrolling it, the words painted on it turns into a blur. Arcane symbols dance before your eyes but the contents of the page escapes your fleeting mind and it drifts to past memories of Moonrise Towers. 

“...And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he pauses, searching for the right words to continue. “You’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Stunned by his confession, your own voice momentarily failed you. The Elf spoke again, revealing a truth that cut through your heart like a blade.“Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion further explains his train of thought, you could see his mouth moving but not a word reached your ears. Sadness, confusion, happiness and anger; the emotions mixed and collided within you. Was your relationship built on lies? Had you somehow forced him to sleep with you? It was all so much.

“I don't know how else to be with someone, No matter how much I’d like to.” 

You’d decided to remain just friends, and it had felt like the right choice. Liberating even, seeing Asterion grow into a person no longer controlled by fear. But now, you wallowed in selfishness due to your aching heart. Now it is the thing that keeps you from focusing on the task ahead. Now it is the thing keeping your from nights embrace, your body twisting and turning when the moon shone through the curtains. Now it is the numb feeling whilst faceless men sing your name between your legs. The decision, made with the intention of preserving your friendship, now felt as liberating as a chain strung to your neck. 

Moreover, you haven't seen him in weeks -  or could it be months? The passage of time blurs and certainly eludes you. Yet, effortlessly, his image flits into your head - bouncy white curls, piercing crimson eyes, a sharp nose and that godsdamn smirk. Interchangeable in your memory - forever young - he remains a vivid specter that refuses to fade.

Breaking your train of thought, there is a tap on your shoulder, a figure crouching over you to peer at the discoveries revealed in the scroll. 

“Found anything of interest?” Rolan spoke, eyeing you from above. 

“Ehm no, just lost in thought.” you replied, attempting to shake off the lingering memories that had clouded your focus. 

“Well, neither have I.” he puffed out a breath of air, “My best bet is to return to the House of Grief for more answers so I could study the mirror you spoke off.”

“I’m not sure they’d warmly welcome me back after my latest visit.” you let out a strained chuckle, struck by a memory of  Viconas lifeless person as Shadowhearts struck the merciless final blow to her chest. 

Since your time in the House of Grief, your bond with magic has slowly dwindled. The once-familiar currents of arcane energy now seemed distant. Magic had been an extension of you, and its absence felt akin to a cruel mutilation and you were desperate to feel magic coursing through your veins once more. Your desperation had led you here - Sorcerous Sundries, for any clue or hope that you might become whole again.

"Anyhow, have you heard from Gale yet?" you inquired, seeking a distraction from your thoughts.

"He deemed Waterdeep fruitless in our search and should be arranging plans to continue in Neverwinter as we speak," Rolan replied, his eyes pacing the floorboards beneath him. "Maybe we should pause our search for today; the sun is setting, and you, my friend, are in desperate need of a drink." His suggestion hung in the air, a respite offered amidst your futile search for answers. 

You had no energy to protest, you truly wanted to go, you really did. But what you needed was to dive into the mountains of untouched texts sprawled in a ring in front of you. 

Lazily tracing the arcane figures, partly lost in deliberation you answer “Thank you for the offer but I shouldn’t, you go and I’ll stay here.”

"Come on, just one drink. It won't solve all our problems, but it might provide a momentary escape," he insisted, recognizing the heaviness in your gaze. "We can resume our search tomorrow with clearer minds. Trust me, it's what you need right now."

A defeated sign escapes your lips “Fine, one drink but no more than that”. 

Laying a victorious touch on your arm, the tiefling grinned, "That's the spirit!" Helping you up, he proceeded, "The Elf Song in an hour; I need to run something by Lia first." With determined steps, he led you away from your search for answers in the pile of books. 

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The warm light emanating from the Elfsongs' painted windows cast a glow over your figure as you linger outside the bustling door. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses weave together, that should beckon you inside but it doesn't. Nothing seems to pique your interest these days. The hero of Baldurs Gate was but a mere shell of what bards sang about and the thought of being recognized, of eyes filled with anticipation that lingers for extraordinary tales to be told - you can't stand it. 

Adding to your dread, are the invasive questions about your companions - about Astarion. Head spinning and lips slowly drooping to frown, you instinctively recoil from the entrance. 

With a heavy sigh, you reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around a familiar flask. The cool metal brings a small comfort, and in contrast your throat burns as you gulp down liquid courage. 

Stealing yourself against the prying questions and the weight of everyone's expectations, you push open the tavern door, stepping into the warm embrace of the tavern, where Rolan and Lia await, immersed in their own stories. You offer them a weak smile as you approach the booth. 

“There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Come, sit!” Lia urges, patting the cushion beside her. As you settle into the booth, you can't help but notice the curious eyes around you.

Gods no.

Instinctively, your finger twirls and you mutter a spell to cast disguise self, only to be reminded of your uselessness. A tinge of frustration tightens your jaw, quickly masked by a forced smile. You divert your gaze, hoping to shield yourself from the unwanted attention. 

“What’s your poison for today?” Lia asks, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Her breath smells of alcohol; Lia and Rolan had clearly begun drinking ahead of you. Not that you could judge them, having indulged in your trusted flask outside the tavern minutes ago. 

“I’ll have what you’ve had.”

“Coming right up!” Lia responds, her enthusiasm undeterred. She signals the bartender, and soon enough, a trio of drinks arrives at the table. 

Rolan is the first to grip the glass and then clear his throat, “To us,  and Gale - and hope that tomorrow will give us more answers.” 

One drink turns into four drinks, and at some point, you lose track of both time and the units you’ve allowed to warm your gullet. Honestly it’s quite funny, why did you worry so much before? Silly you with silly thoughts! Almost as silly as Rolan’s eyes focused on your neck. He looks funny with his eyebrows furrowed, and a chuckle escapes your lips at the sight.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep staring at my neck like that, Rolan.”

“I did no such thing!” he retorts as a flush creeps up on the tiefling's cheeks.

Lia heartily laughs, swaying a bit, and offers her hand to you. “Join me for a dance, will you?” The music in the tavern entices you and despite the blurred lines of inebriation, you take Lia’s hand and step into the lively dance floor.

Lia practically dragged you through the crowded tavern, Rolan following closely behind to his best abilities. The dance floor was filled with twirling bodies, in rhythm with the bard's melodies. Pulling your arm up, Lia spins and chuckles as you reach the bards scene. Rolan, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, reaches the two of you and joins the dance. The world seems to sway with the music and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spreads across your face. 

As you moved to the music, you sensed Rolans’ proximity. His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you through the intricate steps of the dance. The unfamiliar warmth of his hand against your skin was a stark contrast to the memories of Asterion's cool touch.The bard's music kept on playing, the tunes bouncing off the plucked strings, the odor of alcohol on his breath, and hot uncontrolled bodies clashing against your person -  Gods, its too much. You can't stay a minute longer or you might suffocate. 

“I need some air,” you mumble and offer an apologizing smile, excusing yourself as the dance continues without you. 

“Wait!” a muffled voice calls out, but you pretend that you’re too far off to hear. 

Faces blurred into a sea of strangers, and the lively chatter became an indistinguishable hum. Your breath quickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling of faceless men and women judging your every step. Because now they know - they know that you were no hero of Baldur's gate, just another drunk who couldn’t even cast a simple spell to disguise herself from embarrassment. 

Pathetic. 

As you stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast between the warmth of the dance floor and the refreshing chill outside sent shivers down your spine. Crouching down you plant your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath and ease your mind. 

A moment later, the tavern door swung open abruptly, an curly haired man emerging as he wrestled with another almost feral one. The creature thrashed and snarled at the curly haired man as he strained against the frenzied movements. Caught off guard, you stood up in the shadow beside the entrance, your breath hitching again as you observed the scene unfold. 

Seizing the opportunity to make sense of the situation, you assertively approached the struggling men, dagger clutched and ready strike if needed. The curly-haired man's eyes flickered toward you and your gaze met his.

Deep crimson eyes, ivory curls, and are those fangs?

No, that can't be.

"Astarion?" you uttered, your voice a hushed whisper that sliced through the night, your eyes fixed on the elf's face in utter disbelief. There he was, right before you.

Astarion's attention shifted to the rabid man, deftly maneuvering to subdue him. He restrained the creature, halting any further erratic movements. With precision, Astarion extracted a flask from his belt, causing the man's struggles to intensify. Despite the increased resistance, Astarion's actions remained calculated and exact.

With the man momentarily contained, Astarion secured him in place with one hand, the other retrieving a flask. He raised it to his mouth, a subtle glint of fangs emerging as he skillfully removed the lid with his teeth.

"Hello," the rogue spoke, pausing to inject the man with the unfamiliar substance. The feral struggles ceased, and Astarion continued, his tone now imbued with a nuanced warmth, "darling."

Stunned you remain constrained where you stood. This is real, Astarion is here after days, weeks and months of him plaguing your thoughts every waking moment. Your mind races, trying to process the surreal present. A rumble in your stomach seems to pull you out of your trance, nausea spreading in your throat. 

Keep. it. down. 

“Care to help or do you intend to stand there and just gawk?”

Once more the door beside you swung open, a tall figure emerges with swaying strands of long hair catching in the wind, intent on reaching the paralyzed man and Astarion. 

“We said no killing, remember?" he spoke.

"Oh, my apologies, brother. I must have forgotten our little agreement when I was wrestling the feral dog whilst you were nowhere to be seen.”

At that moment, you recognized the man - Leon. His expression remained stoic, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Your theatrics aren't amusing, Astarion. We need to keep them alive; this is not the time nor place for you to display your unique methods."

You finally had a surge to act, fumbled in your bag and searched for any potion or scroll that could help. A glass vial of what seemed to be a healing potion met your fingers, and you pulled it out, unscrewing the cap with shaky hands. 

“Here take this,” you called out, holding the potion aloft, offering a forced smile amidst the charged atmosphere. 

As you step forward to give Leon the vial, Rolan stumbles out the tavern door, tipsy and eyes searching for something in the night. You’d completely forgotten about Rolan and Lia, they’d probably been worried since you hadn’t returned. His eyes widened at the chaotic scene before him, and he instinctively moved to stand in front of you, a protective gesture. His hand flickered with a small flame, ready to defend against any potential threat. 

"What in the hells is happening here?" Rolan demanded, a mix of concern and bewilderment in his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Astarion let out a small laugh, one that you couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of. What was so funny? Rolan certainly wasn't amused, and the flame rose higher from his palm at the elf's dismissive laugh. Leon's gaze moved to Rolan, his hands raising in a gesture of peace, showing that they were no threat to him or you.

“Got yourself a knight in shining armor, have you now?” Astarion remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Knight in shining armor? The words stung, and a spark of anger flared within you. Rolan didn't need to save you nor did you want him to. Opening your mouth to retort, Leon interjected, his voice firm and commanding.

“Astarion, don’t,” Leon snapped at him, a stern edge to his voice. He then looked directly at you, his expression softening. “We don’t want to fight you. Let's find a quieter spot to talk, and we’ll explain everything.”

You nodded, the tension in the air making it clear that this was not the time for confrontation. Rolan, still wary but trusting your judgment, lowered the flame in his palm. With cautious glances exchanged between the group, you began to move away from the chaotic scene, guided by Leon's lead to a more secluded spot where answers awaited. 

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

700 Years - Part 2

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 2K WC

Thank you to all who requested a part 2! :)

Masterlist

Warnings: soft Astarion, depression, anxiety, misinterpretation of feelings, angst, reader reverting to old habits, drow twins (precious babies), slight mention of nudity, brief (and I mean BRIEF) steamy stuff, reassurance, fluff

Part 1

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Astarion was right, adjusting to life outside of the hells was proving to be somewhat difficult. Everything had changed, advanced. You felt like a relic, lost in time. You clung to Astarion like a scared child for weeks. You proved to be an elite combatant, a force to truly be reckoned with. You felt your powers come back to you over time. You just wished your mind would catch up. Know that everything is ok. Know that you are your own. 

You often spend your nights at the lakeside. Throwing rocks into it every so often to watch the ripples glide over the water. You didn’t expect your feelings to come back so easily, and in full force. In hell, you just turned them off when you weren’t alone. Raphael broke you into complete submission. 

“Care for some company?” you heard Astarion say.

You shrugged wordlessly. Astarion noticed your mood declining since you got to camp. You were lost. He did his best to give you space and be there for you, knowing your road was tough, just as his was. You sat in silence for a while before he spoke again.

“I know you’re in great pain, little love, you need not hide it from me.” he scooted closer to you. 

You leaned against him, feeling exhausted. Defeated. “I never thought I was going to leave the hells. Now that I have… I’m trying but… I don’t know if I belong up here. Or down there. I’m not sure I belong anywhere.” your voice was full of sadness. 

Astarion’s arms engulfed you. You clung to him, holding his arms against your chest. “I’m completely alone in the world and I’m… frightened.” you cried into him. 

Astarion took your hands and stood you up, walking you into the shallows of the lake. “Do you ever watch the ripples in the water?” he asked.

You nodded watching as the water splashed around your legs causing the whole lake to ripple.

“See how they unsettle the whole lake, delving it into chaos that will go on until it is brought peace again.” he said, now standing completely still, the lake stilling with him.

“I don’t know if I can bring myself peace.” you looked at the moon's reflection as the water stilled.

Astarion “You can… in time…. Takes a lot of work. But… I’ve got you. I’ll be here for you, whenever you want me.” he said, carding his fingers through your hair causing you to let out a small sigh. 

You leaned back, giving him a small smile. You hesitated before softly kissing his cheek. He looked at you with slightly widened eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that…” Astarion said. He feared showing any intimate interest in you due to everything you had going on, and yet - his heart felt smothered in honey when he was with you. 

Your hand ghosted over where you kissed him, “I know.” you felt bashful. You loved being around Astarion but, as of late, your body grows warm when he is near. Your brain feels overloaded with the urge to kiss him, touch him, love him. Everything about him made you feel better. He made you wonder if you could ever love again, truly love. Everyday you grew more and more convinced. He taught you how to be on your own, not constantly needing him. But now, you just wanted him near always. His presence lighting up your world. 

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The Blushing Mermaid was loud, far louder than you anticipated. It made you wince. Watching men stumble around boorishly and women fawn over each other. It made you smile despite all the noise. Seeing people look happy after so long in a place of unhappiness, it made your heart feel full. Knowing there is always light in the dark. 

Astarion had left you in the corner of the room, trying not to overwhelm you. He told you he would only be gone a moment so you sat down and waited for him. The more time ticked on the more anxious you got. Independent or not, you were anxious like this before the hells. You looked around the patrons, spotting the pale elf at the bar top. 

Your heart felt uneasy when you looked closer. A beautiful drow woman had draped herself across Astarion. He was indulging her in conversation, even going as far to laugh with her. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling the way you were. Astarion was not yours. He was beautiful and free, just like you. He can choose who he gives his attention to. You tried to reason with yourself. All your brain could seem to logically conclude is that he didn’t want you because you had not lay with him. He was healed and could use his body for himself, and here you were. 

You quietly made your way through the crowd, tears falling despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. 

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Astarion wasn’t one to panic easily but right now, his resting heart rate would register as a panic attack. When he returned to your little corner, you were gone. You were without weapons and your armor was in your room when he checked for you back at the Elfsong. He wandered the busy streets of Baldur’s Gate for well over an hour now. He made his way to the Lower City. This area was dangerous before the Absolute and Steel Watchers. It was a cornucopia for crime of all breeds to run amuck.

Astarion sat on a barrel at the front of an alleyway. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He was frustrated but beyond that he was scared. You weren’t by any means fragile, but Astarion is the one who brought you out for the night, he felt a sense of responsibility for you and your safety in an unknown place. And now you were missing his worst fear. Astarion continued to wander the city deep into the night. He wandered in and out of taverns and shops trying to spot you. He made his way into Sharess’ Caress, following the twists and turns of the building. He used to hunt here… not for blood but for souls to bring Cazador. Astarion pushed the thought out of his head, refocusing his eyes and scanning the room. He saw a door cracked open in a dark hallway, a bit of light coating the opposite wall. Might as well check, he thought. Inside he found you curled up on a bed. Two similar looking drows sitting near you. The male drow draped a blanket over you; while the female drow gazed upon your face and gently traced your features. Astarion walked in slowly, the drows looking at him.

“So you’re him?” the woman said, a look of disgust gracing her devine features. 

“Pardon?” Astarion said, confused.

“The one they cry for.” spoke the male drow. 

“How did they get here?” Astarion asked, worried about the answer.

“They walked in, looked lost. We offered them our services but instead they broke down in tears. We thought it best to keep them some place safe lest someone try to take advantage. Baldur’s Gate is not as safe as it once was.” the woman answered.

The conversation was interrupted by you stirring in bed, eyes immediately meeting Astarion’s when they opened. You sat up quietly, the drows quickly excused themselves sensing the tension in the room.

Astarion sat next to you on the bed, “Why did you leave?” he asked, sounding slightly angrier than he meant to.

“I didn’t want to impede your evening.” you said sincerely, and yet a tinge of jealousy was there.

“What are you talking about?” Astarion asked with a huff.

“The drow at the tavern… you two looked… comfortable. I figured I would leave you to it and find my way back to Elfsong. Got a little lost but the twins were very kind to me.” you played with the edges of your sleeves, mumbling your response trying not to sound as pathetic as you felt. 

Astarion’s face relaxed with realization, “Darling… I knew that drow from when I was under his power. She would give me peace for a few hours in her room, leaving me to my books and whatever else I wanted to do away from Cazador. She was a good friend to me.”

You felt foolish. He’s not yours. It’s all you could hear. You held your hands over your ears trying to make it all stop. Century after century you felt so numb, and maybe you preferred it that way. This all felt… too much. 

You pulled Astarion to you, kissing him. This felt nice, you wanted this but you had to turn your brain off for what you had to do next. You wanted him to want you, so you took the only route you knew. You started trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, over his chest. While you pulled your shirt off Astarion looked at your face. Your eyes were vacant, like a shark. Your movements looked practiced and forced. You reached a hand to the laces of Astartions pants, his hand grabbing your wrist. You looked up at him with a blank face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Can’t” was all he said, standing up and pacing the bedroom a bit. He laughed lightly before looking at you, “I could… but I won't.”

You hugged your shirt to your chest, eyes looking down feeling incredibly exposed. “Why not?”

Astarion kneeled in front of you so he could look into your eyes, his heart cracked seeing tears in them. “Because I know that look. I know you don’t truly want to have sex.”

You closed your eyes, tears flowing over silently. You held your shirt tighter, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Astarion’s face was covered with confusion. “Little love, what ever could you be sorry for?”

“That I can’t please you… like that… the way you want.” you shifted to quickly slide your shirt back on. 

Astartion breathed out a sigh, he gingerly took your hand, kissing the knuckles. “Darling we could never touch again and I’d still adore you.” he smoothed his thumbs over your knuckles before looking into your eyes. He saw doubt, caution even. 

“You are not in the hells, you never have to reduce yourself like this again. You do what you want with your body when you want to. Sex should be mutually pleasurable, and consensual the entire time. Not something you do because you think you should…. Whatever you’re comfortable with is where I will meet you.” Astarion kissed the tear on your cheek. 

You instinctively smiled at his kind gesture, knowing no expectations were held behind it. “I’m sorry I left… I want you, Astarion.” you said looking into his eyes, “I want you and it terrifies me. I just had to get away. I know you’re not mine but seeing you with… another. It planted this bitter seed inside me.” An understanding smile fell upon his face, his eyes big and doe like. 

“If it’s any consolation… I want you too.” it was your turn to look shocked, you placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Feeling out how the sensation made you feel, truly feel. 

“Was that ok?” he asked, caressing your wrist. 

You nodded, blushing, “I quite like that.” 

Astarion wrapped you in a feather light hug, waiting for you to return it which you instantly did. You two breathed each other in for a moment before Astarion leaned back.

“We should get back to the tavern.” he pecked your forehead. 

You hummed in agreement, following him through the city. Fingers laced together. 

“Can I stay with you?… I sleep better with you near.” you asked quietly when Astarion walked you to your room. 

Astarion smiled, “I’d have it no other way my sweet.”

Hello! I hope this is a good part 2! My first ever request, ahhhhh I feel so special. Thank you all for supporting my writing, it brings me great joy and comfort. Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm, till next time darlings <3 xoxoxo!!

[amorgansgal]

The Memory of Shadows

So here we go, the sad Astarion x Reader/Tav fic that made me sad when I wrote it. I've not included a named or gendered tav, so hopefully everyone can enjoy... or not enjoy as the case may be!

Gender Neutral Tav/Reader x Astarion

CW: Grief/mourning, death, depression, suicidal thoughts

He wakes. He takes a moment to look at the gossamer red fabric that drapes over the bed, feels the plush, velvet cover under his fingers, he trails them up to the pillow next to him, its cold blankness always an aching reminder. He hates it and he’s not even sure if it still smells of you, there’s so little of you left. Time is doing that, you slip away from mortal memory, becoming lost to the status of mythical hero, rather than living, breathing, flesh and bone. Like a dull knife forcing its way back into his heart, he aches, everything hurts - though he’d never admit to it.

You’re in books, there’s songs about you, about all of them: brilliant Gale, fierce Lae’zel, clever Shadowheart, noble Wyll, excitable Karlach, even Astarion gets a look in as wily. And you, you were the hero, the glorious leader who led them to victory, who saved Baldur’s Gate. You have the starring role. It seems though, to him, the more that is written and said about you the less real you become. He’s scared of that, you’re shimmering before him, your face drifting like shadows, the memory of shadows. Oh he has paintings of you, they’re all over the house - he put them back up after it became somewhat bearable - but they’re a frozen piece of you, not the real thing. They don’t capture the way your mouth would twitch before you smiled or laughed, the way your eyes sparkled with delight when he had managed to pick a lock or the warmth of your hands when you took hold of his.

‘How long has it been?’ he thinks as he finally gets to his feet. ‘50 years, 80, 100?’ He wrote down the day in a diary, but that too has been lost to this house and he’s not sure if it really matters. Why would it? Knowing there’s a special date to acknowledge your passing doesn’t make any other day hurt less. He’s alone, more so than ever. Gale is gone, Wyll is gone, Lae’zel is gone, Shadowheart passed a few years ago… There’s just him and Halsin and Jaheira, and he’s never exactly been close with either of them. Halsin used to visit when you had passed, you had been close with him after all. But he got the sense Halsin did so out of obligation, rather than actually liking him and when they had exhausted all topics of the past - the nautiloid ship, the druid grove, the goblin camp, the shadow curse, moonrise towers, Ketheric, Baldur’s Gate, Orin, Gortash, the Elder brain, you - and he and Halsin were left with an uneasy silence. A silence that lingered on and on and was close to swallowing them up, until Halsin said he would leave Astarion in peace. As though he even knew what peace meant anymore. Now they only meet when someone else dies. What a grim prospect. Who's next? Probably Jaheira, though that won't be a for a while yet.

He moves over to his wardrobe, even this part of the day holds no joy for him. He doesn’t get to hear your teasing comments about how long he spends carefully selecting his clothes or feel your hands wrap around his waist, your chest pressed against his back, the kisses you would trail down his spine. He presses his lips tightly together, not wanting to let out any whimper of pain or cry of anguish. At times, his darkest, loneliest times, he wonders if he would have agreed to let Cazador torture him for all eternity, if it meant he could just have one more day with you. A single day would be worth it. A single kiss, a single loving touch, a single laugh, a single look. He’d make a deal with all the devils in hell if it meant he got to hold you again for one last time. 

He pulls his hand away from the handle on the wardrobe door. He’s too tired for this and he doesn’t want to do it anymore. He’s in hell already, he may as well see if he’ll get a glimpse of you in the afterlife. He walks over to the heavy draped curtains, his fingers curl on the black fabric lined with golden leaves. You probably won’t be pleased with this, but hopefully you’ll forgive him. He's sure you will. And gods, he would love to see you angry because it would mean seeing you again. He'll take anything he can get. He yanks open the curtains. The sun is brilliant, blinding, burning hot and cold, and the sharp, all encompassing light reminds him of your laugh, your wit, your very being. Maybe he’ll get to see you soon.

[cambria-writes]

Chapter 3: So I stay the night

pairing: astarion x bard!f!reader word count: 4,646 warnings: swearing, description of a panic attack/autistic meltdown, very murderous ideation

a/n: it has been four months and lemme tell you, it has been a hell of a quarter. i'm super thankful for everyone who's left comments both here and on ao3 because that has pretty much been the only thing that's kept me motivated. the depression has been real, my dudes. anyways as always, let me know if you want to be tagged for upcoming chapters!

Chief among the reasons why you’ve been bathing so often are the myriad unpleasant smells you accumulate during the day. Whether it’s the iron tang of blood or the sickly near-sweet smell of rot, there always seems to be something to wash off. Maybe there’s a little part of you that’s trying to self-soothe at the same time.

You’re thankful for the bright, nearly-full moon in the sky, at least. You may not be a Selunite, but especially recently, with your discovery of Mystra’s unimaginable, unfathomable cruelty, Shar’s atrocious duplicity, and the Dead Three, you’re almost thankful that at least one deity remains… somewhat acceptable. Palatable, at least. Perhaps not good or reasonable, but at least the Lady of the Moon hasn’t seen fit to kidnap, torture, or otherwise mishape any of your friends.

Yet. You cast a wary, narrow-eyed glance at the sky above.

“I’ve sworn to dethrone and kill one of you,” you declare, bringing your waterlogged hair over your shoulder. “I’m not scared to declare war on you, too.”

You don’t get an answer, not that you were expecting one. Typical; when things are the worst they’ve ever been and their devout need the most help they ever have, the gods remain ever as useless.

“Terribly massive threats to make for such a tiny little bard,” you hear from behind you, and your face doesn’t know whether to smirk or scowl.

“Lovely for you to disturb my bathing yet again, Astarion,” you retort, wringing as much water from your hair as you can before you turn around. The water still laps at your hips, and your thick shift, soaked, still clings oddly to your waist and your breasts. You try not to think of how you look. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this time?”

There’s a venom in your voice you can’t hide, and frankly you’d have been concerned if Astarion hadn’t immediately noticed it. His facial expression may not give much of anything, but the rest of his body does. The way his shoulders hunch up just a bit, the split-second hesitation in his next step, his fingers twitching for a blade he didn’t think he would need to take with him. Not here. Not with you. 

God,s even the spark of guilt you feel at making Astarion, of all people, uncomfortable in your presence doesn’t cut through the seething blood rage that begins to boil beneath your skin. Mystra and Shar and whatever other damnable power-hungry presence out in the world seeking to harm your companions—friends?—are… troublesome, because they are distant and powerful. Though you’ve promised to wring Mystra’s life from her throat with your own two hands, you haven’t the slightest idea how to go about doing that. You will, of course, because you would never make that kind of promise—especially to Gale, right in front of Elminster, because of course as a fucking bard you couldn’t help but to open yout trap—but that’s something that can wait. Because there’s a far more tempting outlet for your violence. One with a known address.

Cazador Szarr. You never thought just a name could inspire such burning rage within you.

“Well, I thought someone should check on our favourite mockingbird,” Astarion says smoothly. He draws his brows at you, and you realize that you have yet to answer and move at all. You can think of all the ways Cazador will bleed later. You can shelve the rage, swallow it down and bring it back up later.

You shake your head and scoff. “Right, yes, sorry,” you reply quickly, making quick work of plaiting your hair and pointedly avoiding looking at the vampire. “Can’t say if it’s real or all in my head, but the smell of smoke and… and burnt corpse has been lingering. I’m guessing I took so long that the others got worried?”

Astarion stares at you with a look that makes you pause, both aghast and confused. You frown and shake your head in confusion back at him. He puts his arms out at his sides, seemingly gesturing at your surroundings, before gesturing at the moon.

You look up, look back down to Astarion, and shrug your shoulders. You still don’t get it. He sighs and throws his hands up in defeat. 

“It’s midnight, and you left camp during daylight, and you think you took too long?”

Your mouth hangs open. You know you’ve had issues keeping track of time before, but normally the literally sun is enough to bring you back to yourself and realize that your body has needs that had been ignored. This feels… different. You don’t remember the hours you’ve spent in the river. 

You look down at your fingers, and they make your grandmother’s face look young and smooth in comparison. You wrinkle your nose and look back up to Astarion.

“Just… wrap up so we can walk back,” he says, and quickly turns on his heel to walk away. You know he won’t be far—likely hasn’t been very far for most of the time you’ve been out here sorting out your own thoughts.

You pull yourself from the river and pull your shift off before wringing the water from it. You quickly slip back into the robes you’d left on a rock nearby, thankful that they haven’t gotten stolen by neither person nor animal. They don’t help the chill settling in, though; whatever heat they might have drawn from the sun has long gone.

Once your boots are back on your feet, you follow the trampled grass to find where Astarion sits, legs stretched out in front of him, beneath a juvenile tree whose tallest branches barely reach over your head. You kick at Astarion’s foot when you reach him.

“Done threatening deities?” he asks, and you scoff.

“For now. I need to write down better speeches. Maybe it’ll be more convincing if I’ve thought about it beforehand.”

It’s Astarion’s turn to scoff. He brushes his hands off on his thighs when he stands. You bite your lips and, before he takes a first step to walk away and lead you away from the river, you grab at his forearm.

“It’s not just gods I’m swearing to kill, Astarion,” you say, and you make sure to wait for him to turn and look you in the eyes. You even implore your cranial roommate to assist you in conveying your candour. “Cazador will die, too. I’m not going to display any favouritism here, Astarion. Zariel and her pawn will die, Mystra will choke on her arrogance, and I will chase the shadows away from the night itself if I have to. Do you understand me?”

You can see Astarion’s thoughts warring behind his eyes; his red irises jumping from looking at you in the left eye, then the right, and back to the left. Trying to suss out some form of deception. You know he’ll find none, but you let him search.

“...and what of the Gith?”

“If the Lich Queen presents herself as a threat,” you start, carefully, minding your words. Lae’zel may not be here to chastise or defend herself and her mistress, but that only gives you all the more incentive to be considerate. “Then she will be eliminated like a threat.”

You release Astarion’s arm and choose instead to start walking, to get ahead of him. You can let him stew in that for a second. 

“That’s the kind of determination I’m bringing into the crèche, trhe Underdark and into the Cursed Shadowlands after that. Come on, before they send Karlach to fetch both of us.”

You’re extremely happy you picked up a song for Heroism; you’re not sure Wyll would have been able to survive an encounter with not one, but two minotaurs without that. 

It doesn’t escape your notice that you first show up in the Underdark in some ruined outpost dedicated to Selûne. You turn back to the gates, after gracelessly hopping over the piled corpses of the minotaurs, staring up at the emotionless depictions of the goddess.

You wonder if she can feel your thanks. And you hope that if she does, she also knows that this does not, by any stretch of the imagination, put her in your good graces.

Then there were the fucking hook horrors. Halsin has a strange look when you mention your profound dislike and disgust with the things, but you quickly chalk that up to being a druid. Surely, he must be friendly with all living things and be a bit prickly whenever someone mentions wanting to inflict violent, bloody pain and suffering upon them.

And then, finally, blessedly, civilization. The rest of your companions are extremely wary of the Myconid colony—and you are wary of Sovereign Glut, yourself—but you are far too enthralled by the way they communicate to care much. You respectfully dim your excitement, of course, when you recognize that the Sovereign has been mourning, as the rest of the colony has.

But you join in, offering a few quivering chords of your violin. Halsin, to your pleasant surprise, hums along to the dirge you play.

You smirk in vindicated satisfaction. Mostly at Astarion, but also at Lae’zel and Shadowheart. The three most likely to judge your lack of ability and dismiss the potency of your playing. All of them look away from your pleased expression.

A self-satisfaction that is short-lived as soon as the Sovereign provides you and your companions with another task and yet more killing.

“It’s slavers, though,” you argue with Karlach as you walk. “They’ve been doing this their whole lives and they’ve never seen anything wrong with it!” 

“I get that, Soldier,” Karlach replies, walking with her arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t know, something feels wrong about killing people just ‘cause of how they live their lives, y’know?” 

“Karlach,” Wyll speaks up, falling into step beside you. “They’re slavers. They steal people from their homes to sell them, at best, for manual labour that will inevitably lead them to an early grave. At best. Do you see where I’m getting at?”

Karlach stops walking and stares at Wyll for a second, then down to you, then back to Wyll. You can see the dots connecting all over the face before a scowl sets in. 

“Nah, alright, I see what you’re sayin’. They’re dying.”

You discreetly high-five Wyll and rush your companions forward. Shadowheart, though she rolls her eyes before turning back forward to keep walking ahead, does not turn fast enough to hide her smirk. There may be progress to be made there after all.

You do not enter the forge. There are far too many signs of Sharran occupation. You were never really familiar with Shar and her followers, but the more you find and learn along your travels, the more you’re starting to think that they are, in fact, the evil cult that most people seem to make them out to be. So you send Shadowheart and Halsin back to camp—the druid, blessedly, seems to understand what’s going on and calmly herds Shadowheart away despite her protest. 

Then, after a horrible fight that you only managed to get the upper hand in because of a bribe, you take Nere’s head. You swallow the bile that rises in your throat while you shakily slice through his neck, and make a quick escape. The gnomes are safe and free, and the Rothé don’t have to worry about being harmed any longer. Wyll volunteers himself, Gale and Lae’zel to take gnome and rothé alike to relative safety, and Gale leaves you with a sending stone, just in case. 

Astarion, Karlach, and yourself return to the colony. Once the Sovereign has been given the drow’s head—you think you see some other myconids spreading spores all over it afterward and try your best not to think about why that is—you are not only granted access to their vault, but the Sovereign tells you of a contraption set up somewhere in the Underdark that simply leads Up.

“That sounds an awful lot like an elevator,” Astarion comments as you’re rooting through the chests and barrels in the ‘vault’. “And a wonderful way to get back to sunlight.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s sunlight you’re excited for, and not the prospect of a fresh meal that hasn’t had the smell of damp and rot sink into it,” you snark, without much bite behind it. You don’t bother trying to stifle the cackle that bubbles up your throat when you hear Astarion gag. “It’s broken, anyway. Halsin checked it out earlier when Scratch mentioned something about a platform.”

”Figures,” Astarion spits. You hear him throwing something back down into a chest before slamming it shut. “This whole thing has been a waste. There’s nothing in here worth anything at all.”

You feel your outrage rip up your spine, and you straighten, taking a deep breath. You exhale slowly, though; if this were anyone else, you might tear into them about how helping people is never a waste of time. Regardless of how much or little you get rewarded for your effort. If you were a pinch more cynical, you might even add that it returns to you in the end either way. If there was ever a time that you needed an ally that can move in places and ways that you can’t, the Myconid would be a wonderful force to call on.

You turn your tongue behind your teeth and say none of this to Astarion. You bite the inside of your cheek and count to ten, ignore how the vampire’s leaning in toward you to try to get your attention. He’s prattling on, yet again, about how your bleeding heart will get all of you killed.

You place a hand on Astarion’s chest for some distance—the bastard loves ignoring the concept of personal space and by the gods even that, you can’t hold against him, and you’re beginning to think maybe he has a point with the bleeding heart spiel—fingers splayed. Wordlessly, with your other hand palm-up, you offer him the amulet you had found.

“It’ll sharpen your silver tongue,” you explain, proud that your voice comes out calm and even. “I’m heading back to camp. Just don’t kill anyone on your way out.”

You turn to leave without looking at Astarion. You’re just… tired. Half your companions constantly question you and needle you for your compassion and yet no one has offered themselves up to take the helm. Astarion’s the most confusing; half the time he seems overjoyed by your direction, and the other half he makes it sound like you’re trying to rip the fangs right out of his mouth.

Sunlight will make things better. Sunlight, and fresh air that hasn’t been recirculating the same spores for gods know how long.

You found the crèche, alright.

Nestled in the mountains and having completely overrun and overtaken a monastery of Lathander. It makes something within you profoundly uncomfortable. You don’t know if you want to ask whether or not there was anyone left to be slayed when the githyanki settled, or if everyone had already passed. You don’t know which answer would be better, if there even is a better answer.

Karlach seems to be sharing in your unease, as does Wyll. Gale seems to be far more fascinated with the architecture and various magical contraptions—including a Guardian of Faith—and Shadowheart makes her displeasure known at every other turn. Even Halsin was uncomfortable enough, though probably because of the proximity to the cursed shadowlands, that he returned to camp. The only one who seems remotely as excited as you, though for violently different reasons, is Astarion.

At dawn the day after your arrival at the monastery, while on your habitual ‘stroll’ about the area around camp, you find the vampire perched, sat on the edge of a cliff, looking out at the rising sun.

You hesitate for a moment but don’t break your casual stride. Astarion’s probably heard you approach, but you aren’t sure if you want to encroach on his privacy. He seems to be rather reserved about enjoying things at all, but even moreso when it comes to the small pleasures of life that he had been robbed of.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, not really. But you can tell even at a distance that his eyes are on you nevertheless. You take it as the invitation it is and slowly trek over. You lower yourself to the rocky ground below and let your legs hang over the edge of the cliff, same as him. Cradle your hands in your lap and simply take a moment to observe the sunrise.

If you didn’t know the decay and corruption that awaited you after this place, you might even be tempted to say this view looked magically peaceful.

You let yourself remain there, with Astarion, in silence. When the sun has finally risen enough to separate from the horizon, you take a deep breath and push yourself back onto your feet. You don’t plan on saying anything, but when you’ve turned and taken a few steps away, you hear Astarion speak, though quietly.

“I’m sorry, for being so harsh.” He’s still resolutely staring out over the land when you turn to look at him.

You take a moment to consider your words. “Thank you,” you start. “I accept the apology.” The rising tension you see going through his spine makes you add, “…and the offer to help me go through our enormous chest of books to sort out what we want to sell.”

Astarion finally turns then, a look of indignation and a protest clearly hanging on his tongue. He shuts his mouth when he sees your smirk, though, and sighs. 

“Ugh, fine. I suppose I’m the one who keeps bringing them back, anyway.”

The kaith’vis—or whatever the whole unworldly hells the “purifying” machine Lae’zel had been lauding as the best and only solution to your involuntary headmate situation is supposed to be called—is useless. Worse than useless, even! You’re seething the entire time the rest of your companions are trying to settle things with… fuck, you can’t even remember the name of the gith who had carefully guided Lae’zel into the contraption that would have, inevitably and infallibly, killed her.

Karlach has a warm, gauntlet-clad hand on your shoulder. It isn’t so much grounding in the way that she’s tethering you to your senses; you’re just lucid enough through the rage to recognize that your emotions will not allow you to think in anything resembling a straight line. Grounding more in the way that she’s placing most of her weight onto the hand on your shoulder to prevent you from moving. Or shaking all over the room. You briefly eye a tapestry that looks awful fun to climb and tear apart.

Wyll very subtly jabs you in the kidneys. You sniff inconspicuously and turn your attention back to the conversation at hand. Ghustil is the woman’s name—and she’s yet again complaining that her contraption has exploded. She’s also categorically refusing to believe that the machine wasn’t somehow tampered with.

She’s not wrong. Not really. Distantly, you get the feeling that your Dream Visitor is awfully smug about the whole thing. You don’t think it should feel any kind of accomplishment from this. Sure, Lae’zel is alive, but blowing up the machine was unnecessary, and the argument between the gith is, in fact, starting to fray your very last nerve.

No, Ghustil is probably right. This… “purifier” probably wasn’t tampered with, and likely was functioning just as expected. You swallow past the uncomfortable lump in your throat at the thought of the amount of people—likely not just the gith—who must’ve been pleasantly led to their death in that chair. 

Well. What used to be a chair, anyway.

“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” you announce, before making your way to Lae’zel’s side as cautiously as you can manage. “I’ll be at camp. Handle this whichever way you think is best.”

Lae’zel’s frown shifts a bit; nothing aggressive, but something closer to confusion. You’re too annoyed and sickened to care. You just want to return to your bedroll, bury your face into Scratch’s fur—and the owlbear cub, if you’re lucky—and hope that tomorrow will bring perhaps something less upsetting.

Once clear of the walls of the… do you call it a crèche, now? Or do you still call it a monastery? Regardless, once you’re finally back outside into the fire-red glow of the setting sun, you feel your chest expanding.

And then, just like that, it feels like your entire torso is in a vice.

The tightness in your chest, the difficulty breathing, your sight swimming behind tears and a headache that begins clawing at the inside of your skull. You haven’t had an episode like this in quite some time, and given the companions you have with you—some of whom will inevitably come check on you with how expeditiously you removed yourself from the room—you find a nearby tree to lean against and try to regain control of yourself.

Your mind screams at you that it’s pointless, that no amount of calming yourself will change anything about the things filling you with dread, but you endeavour to start by finding five things you can see: the sun, blinding as it is; the tree; the grass around it; your gauntlets; and your boots. You whisper the words out loud in an attempt to regulate your quickened breathing without having to think much about it. 

Then you try four things you can touch: the warmed and worn cotton inside your gauntlets; the rough bark of the tree; the uneven ground beneath you littered with rubble and pebbles; and the leather cord around your neck.

You take a moment to try taking a deep breath. It’s not great, not yet, but at least you can take a few breaths without hiccupping. 

You’ve just named one thing you can hear—the wind through the trees���when you hear Astarion calling out for you. Screw your eyes shut against the dread of being seen like this before removing the violin strapped to your back and moving to sit with your back against the tree. There’s no real point in pretending that looking at the sun made your eyes water and your cheeks red, so you don’t. 

You determinedly keep your gaze on the outstretched legs in front of you and mindlessly pluck at the strings of your instrument. 

You decide to school your expression into something more passive, without erasing the upset that clearly had you walking out of the monastery.

“Get it over with, Astarion,” you call out, once you hear the vampire is within a few feet of you. “On with the insults so I can get back to trying to figure out how to save all of us.”

Astarion stays quiet, and you feel your pulse drumming in your ears louder and faster. You hear him sit down, slowly, still a respectable distance away from you. There’s a moment when you feel his eyes on you, but before you’re unnerved enough to say anything about it, Astarion speaks up.

“I know what it is, you know,” he starts, and his cadence is almost... reassuring? Calming? The thoughts humming like bees in your head lull for a second. Kindness and understanding are not what you would have expected from a vampire spawn, but Astarion continues and interrupts your rumination. “The shortness of breath, the lightheartedness, the... inability to think.” He pauses long enough for you to turn your head, just enough to properly see him in your periphery. You think you see him grin. “The crying.”

“...please get to the point,” you ask, but with how tight and raw your throat feels, it almost sounds like a plea.

There’s a sigh—not terribly put-upon as you’d been concerned, but more of a resigned sound—before you hear Astarion stand up, only to come crouch directly in front of you. Cold fingers work around your neck, and for a moment you think you almost feel scared. But then thumbs gently press under your chin to lift your head and all but force you to look him in his deep-red eyes.

“Darling,” Astarion starts gently, and there’s something about his voice that says sincere and listen to me that you can’t ignore, but you also can’t ignore the way it makes you wary.

Astarion isn’t sincere. Astarion’s never sincere. That much you know. 

You open your mouth to speak—though you’re not sure what you even intend to say—but Astarion takes one of his hands away from the too-warm skin of your neck to cover your mouth. 

“Hush. You’re under too much pressure,” he begins, and incrementally, you can see his frown deepen as he speaks. “You’ve been traipsing around the Sword Coast with this grand idea that there’s a way to spare us all from becoming–eugh–illithids. Very well and good. And then you found you had a vampire with a cruel master. A tiefling with a ticking time bomb for a heart, a wizard who got on the wrong side of a goddess, and a cultist who’s been brainwashed into thinking her way is the only way.”

You pull Astarion’s hand away from your mouth. “Shadowheart or Lae’zel?” 

“Yes,” he responds shortly, and withdraws both his hands. “For some reason you’ve had the brilliant idea of assuming responsibility for all our lives. Do you think this is reasonable?” 

It’s not. You know it’s not. It’s absolutely insane, and you’d have said so to anyone else who’d asked the same thing. But your mouth remains open and silent and your throat feels too tight. 

“Right. Glad we agree.” Astarion gets up, and this time you only spend a fraction of a second marvelling at how easily he moves his limbs. Flex your hands and take another fraction of a second to wish you had so much as a quarter of his grace. 

“Who else, Astarion?” you ask quietly, and you shove the butts of your hands into your eyes as soon as you feel the burning. “No one else cares! Gale’s happy blowing himself up for his stupid, insufferable mistress, and Karlach can’t be arsed to care about life or death as long as she just gets to touch someone!”

“Then talk to them.” 

The reply is so short, but spoken with such a lack of venom or frustration that it nearly immediately takes the wind out of your sails. 

“T… talk to them. That’s your great solution?”

Astarion’s back is to you, and his hands are clasped behind his back. He’s staring off into the horizon, the clouds darkening there as the sun sets at both of your backs. 

“Show them that the ones who betrayed them weren’t the only ones who cared,” the vampire says over his shoulder, and swiftly turns on his heels to walk away. He pauses, next to you, but doesn’t look down. “I might even be tempted to say that it’s starting to get to me, too.”

He’s gone before you can process what he’s said, nevermind answer back.

Betrayal, huh.

You gently lay your violin and bow on the grow next to you,  bring your legs up and hug your knees and let yourself cry, heaving and coughing and screaming and all. This time, at least, you tell yourself it’s just to vent. Just to get all the ugly out so you can prepare yourself and your words. 

You would speak to Gale, first. You have no idea when or how—and you’re definitely going to want to write down what you want to say thirteen different times to drill it into your brain and make sure you don’t forget anything—but out of everyone at camp, despite being the one with a literal divine-tier problem…

You think he might listen.

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Part 6 The lords servant

Astarion x reader

Warnings: plus size reader, light swearing, vampire things, sexual, first times, eventual smut, harassment, sexual harassment, angst, past abuse, past trauma

Previous part <-

You had decided to stay, though things were different now, he didn’t make you clean, cook or check over things in the house. You were more of a guest now than servant, he gave you your own room despite your words of not needing it. He insisted greatly, saying you could decorate as you pleased. He wished to go with you to the shops so he could show you the best places for silks and blankets, clothes and perfumes. It saddened you, he had this glint in his eye of wanting to explore this new bond you shared to its fullest, only to be stopped by the sun. You didn’t go shopping, you kept your clothes simple with the ones you had packed, though it made him huff saying he wished to lavish you in wonderful things. You would just shake your head and say you were happy with what you had, he would pout like a child and it would make you laugh though. Honestly you were scared to buy new clothes, you’d have to be sized and measured, you didn’t want the scrutiny of some seamstress judging your body, you also felt wrong for such beautiful things to be waisted on your body, but the lord didn’t need to know that.

You were rather lost in thought, thinking back to your family when you felt arms around your waist and a head bury in your neck. Had you not recognised the soft curls and smell of your lord, you would’ve slapped them. You simply smiled as he pressed light kisses to your neck humming gently.

“What’s my little pup thinking about so deeply?” He asked and you shrugged lightly.

“Just home, well, where I grew up” you muttered frowning lightly. You were still off with the whole touching thing, you stepped out of his hold turning to look at him instead making him frown lightly.

“Tell me about it?” He asked head tilted slightly in question.

“It’s really boring and depressing” you chuckled but the laughter didn’t reach your eyes.

“Nothing about you is boring my dear, please, I’m all pointy ears” he grinned lightly and sat making you huff with a smile.

“My mother was named witch of the town, my father was in trades, he wasn’t home often. My mother was good with potions and alchemy, not really any magic in her unless she tried hard enough. She was, well she was odd to caught up in her old books to really see what was happening around her” you sighed.

“Too busy to see what was happening to me” you added quietly as the lord kept his attention on you fully.

“Like I said I’d get bullied a lot and beaten, she’d never notice, I’d try to tell her and she’d mumble something about a potion or herb before going back into her room, when i tried to tell my father he’d either pretend to be too busy or just ignored me, it was really just me growing up, and the donkey we had” you chuckled at the last part remembering.

“His name was Al, short for Albert, I loved him so much, id talk to him, sounded like a mad child now” you shook your head with a smile.

“He was too dumb though, didn’t know what was what and died out in the woods from a bear” you grimaced at the memory of finding him.

“I knew i had locked the gate that night, somebody opened it” you huffed.

“Bastards” the lord said frowning.

“I found him torn to shreds, horrible sight for a youngen” you shuddered.

“My parents didn’t care obviously, just told me to go work the barn, there was nothing in the barn to work with though so I just read books” you shrugged looking to him.

“Hopefully your parents were better than mine, I mean they did raise you” you smiled before it faded. His eyes went blank, his lips drawn into a thin line.

“I’m sorry-“ you stuttered as he stood, you began to panic as he simply left making you sigh. Even a hint about asking about his past he’d shut down and leave, maybe it wasn’t the right time, but he was a mystery to you, you knew nothing about him and he knew your life story.

You wandered around the mansion, exploring the rooms you could go in, wandering the library before finding a book and settling down. When dinner came you headed to the kitchen, smelling some delicious stew. You got looks from the servants now though, you grabbed some food and left back to your room passing the lords on the way. You froze though seeing one of the servants against the wall, his head in their neck. He was feeding, just with less activity now, but their moaning and fingers in his curls made your stomach churn with jealousy before you stormed back to your room. Of course he had to fed how stupid could you be. You packed your room if possible there would be an angry dark cloud above your head. Gods you felt so stupid, caught up in this new love. You groaned in frustration wanting to throw something breakable before you heard knocking. You took a quiet breath before opening the door seeing the lord there, not a drop of blood on his face.

“Evening my dear” he said and you wanted to scoff.

“I wish to be left alone” you said as nice as you could with a smile and he frowned.

“Are you not feeling well?” He asked and you felt like slapping him.

“Yes, just a bit feverish, I’m going to bed early, goodnight my lord” you said curtly and gave a small bow before closing the door. You clenched your jaw and fisted your hands before sitting by your desk.

Astarion stood confused outside your door, you didn’t look feverish to him. His mouth was bitter with the servants blood, he simply needed to feed, nothing more, however the servant had other plans moaning against him. It made him growl in annoyance, but they only took it as a spur and continued. He couldn’t handle it so he forced them away seeing the confusion. You had pressed about his past again, you told him about your past and he kept his hidden in the shadows where it belonged, the invisible collar around his neck tugging in reminder. He wouldn’t bring you into that, wouldn’t let his past consume you like it has everything else, not when you were this light in his life. When he first spotted you he’d never seen something so divine and swore on getting a taste, however that proved difficult. His usual charms and flattery didn’t work on you, you had high walls and something held you back. Gods know he saw red when those bastards touched you, saw the fear in your eyes, he almost slit their throats and drank them dry there and then had you not been there. He meant what he said when he would kill them, but your too kind heart didn’t see it fit. When you entered his room after days of him not feeding and being in his bed he hurt you. He felt nothing but hunger as the sweetness of your blood flowed into his body for the first time. It made him shudder till he realised what he had done. He’d been so close to having you, after his brood he swore he was going to have you, but you came in, checking on him like a wounded animal. Where the hell was Daenan? He’d tear into him later, right then, he was chasing you through Baldurs gate and into an alleyway, your blood tingling on his tongue. He’d taken too much and your burst of escape caused you to pass out against him. He hated being out in the city, it was too exposed, too many eyes in the shadows. He hastily got home with you in his arms, his guards giving him odd looks before he sneered at them. Your unconscious form made his heart stir for the first time in 200 years, you looked at peace, not like the gut wrenching fear from before. He stayed by your bed, held your hand made sure you were comfortable before you finally awoke. He had gone back to check on you only to find you weren’t there and his panic settling in. He saw the balcony doors open though and sighed seeing your form lit in the moonlight. Gods what a sight, you almost glistened in light, the wind gently blowing through your hair and white robe, you looked like a goddess. When you kissed him he felt like his heart leapt out his chest, your desperateness and needy noises made him crave you, though this was probably the first time you’d ever initiated a kiss from someone. Seeing you smile and giggle softly made him swoon like a young vampire again, hearing you say you’d stay made his heart leap. He’d been too excited he knows that now, giving you your own room, wanting to buy you dresses, silk sheets and blankets, perfumes, anything good gold could buy. It made you uncomfortable, he saw the way you’d look to the ground and gently shake your head with a small thank you. You weren’t from this life, a simple village girl with no one, but herself, he craved you though, craved your touch, craved your lips, your blood. He fed more regularly, trying to rid of the cravings he felt, but it never worked. He felt how you’d shy away from his touch and keep a safe distance should you need to run. He’d broken trust and he was trying to hard to get it back, for the first time in 200 years he didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know how to win your affections, it seemed so simple when doing it for ‘him’.

Next part ->

Taglist:

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@sleepy-time-dreamy

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@brainz00

@perseny

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[burnt-by-marigolds]

Masterpost

Hello, I'm Burnt by Marigolds, autistic & genderfluid person going by any/all pronouns. I started this blog to practise self-expression and, in a sense, reclaim my voice. Turns out it's also a nice way to connect with interesting people :)

Right now, I post mainly about BG3/Astarion/my OC Yae. There's also a bit of older Our Life stuff. You'll probably see me mention autism here a lot as well. Have fun!

⊱ Astarion: Thoughts, Impressions, Analyses ⊰

When Monsters Become People (or the Fear of the "Other")

Why I think it's important that Astarion embraces the shadows

E is for Equal

"What are we to you? – Nothing special, of course."

Astarion's Story: A Closure

A (Bitter?) Taste of Power

Astarion's First Bite: Vampirism in a Nutshell (little did I know)

⊱ Other Thoughts ⊰

Henry Townshend and themes of depression (Silent Hill 4)

⊱ Fanfiction ⊰

BG3: Stealing Moments of Comfort [AO3] [Tumblr]

BG3: A Pauper's Gift [AO3] [Tumblr]

When Water Gets as Thick as Blood WIP: [1], [2], [3], [4]

⊱ Yae of Evereska ⊰

Introductory post in progress

The Dryad's Love Test with Yae

Assorted trivia: [click]

⊱ BG3: Photo Mode / Screenshots / Edits ⊰

General tag: [click]

⊱ Our Life ⊰

Baxter's Birthday (game mod/edit)

Baxter takes care of MC during Boating (game mod/edit)

Expression of Loneliness (Baxter x reader)

⊱ My personal list of glimmers ⊰

[mothmimic]

Mystical Powers?

at work I drank a cold brew coffee, diet coke, and sweet tea all at the same time and I had to release the caffeine somehow I’m so sorry

‣ pairing: Astarion x reader but from Gale’s POV

‣ words: 1697

‣ content: all jokes, Gale is purposefully mischaracterized, Gale is a ‘nice guy’ and owns smut fanfiction (implied), unrequited rivalry, Gale is basically Matthew Patel

───────────────────

‣ summary: Gale has done everything for you. Yes, he has ate your artifacts, but the reason you even offered them was because you were undoubtedly attracted to him. It was obvious from the way you talked to him last out of the entire group before going to sleep every night. He was just special like that. However, others— specifically a seductive white-haired elf— are not so keen to respect your guy’s destiny to be together. Gale sets out to prove luscious locks are never more important than a pure heart (without any ulterior motives at all).

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Gale rummaged through his collections of books, desperately searching for the one holy piece of information that could grant him a solution to this little problem of his. This problem was not one of scholarly importance, he was well aware, and it was not likely he would find his answer in his ancient texts. But these books were all he knew. What was he going to do, communicate like a normal human that had not been cooped up in his depression tower for years? Blasphemy.

He had taken much of his time alone as of late to contemplate on how he should proceed with the situation. He was not avoiding it, obviously not. He was merely worried for your safety. A fragile one like you was not meant to associate yourself with those like Astarion, an elf skilled in the craft of manipulation and deceitful seduction. Astarion had merely blinded you. Gale was your only hope for freedom. He definitely did not think this just because he wanted to feel needed. And definitely not because he was just sick of seeing the both of you make bedroom eyes across each nightly bonfire.

Lost in his thoughts, his attention suddenly snapped back as he noticed a book of interest. He picked it up gingerly as he read the title.

“Taken by the Vampire King… What a lovely piece of literature, if I do say so myself.” He muttered as he began to delicately pry the cover open. He suddenly stopped himself and slammed the book closed as he remembered the point of this search. “No, this will not assist me. Well…. if seduction is what draws Tav to the pale elf, then I suppose…”

“Now what in the hells are you doing making such a mess in here?”

The sudden voice nearly caused Gale to literally explode, his hands grasping at his chest to calm himself. He spasmed for a minute as his brain rebooted. “Uh, uh, I—“ And then, as if a switch was flipped on inside his brain, he irritably whipped around. “To all gods, Astarion, what are you doing giving me such a fright in the middle of the night? Do you know nothing of peace?”

“Pardon me, but I am an elf. I’m not in need of sleep like you poor little things.” He snorted, conceited as usual, prowling over towards Gale and taking a peek at the book before Gale can even throw it across his tent. “And I see you’re busying yourself with… important matters, hm?”

“It’s for educational— No, what do you want from me, Astarion?”

“Just a friend…” he pouted like a neglected child, collapsing onto Gale’s bedroll in defeat. Gale would feel a twinge of guilt if it was not his mortal enemy saying those words. And also if there wasn’t an obvious layer of sarcasm beneath.

“No, no, out with it.”

“Uh, fine. I was wondering if you had some type of strength potion. I feel like utter shit.” Astarion sighed as he threw his head back, blowing a strand of wandering hair out of his face. Gale studied him as he was distracted— it didn’t seem like he was lying. He looked like utter shit, his hands twitching and under eyes so dark as if he had never seen the sun in his 200+ years of life. (Gale would soon realize this observation was, in fact, accurate)

“Yeah, I see that. And I’m a wizard, not an alchemist, actually. A wizard merely studies their practice of magic through multiple sources of teachings while an alchemist…”

Gale continued on as Astarion sat there in silence. It was not a respectable type of silence, but rather one of ‘if this dude doesn’t shut up I think I might actually kill him.’ His hands began to clench into fists, his nails digging into his flesh as Gale’s nonsensical words pounded through his brain. The tadpole was not the only force controlling him tonight. His eyes flickered with hunger, yet Gale did not notice.

“Gale.”

“Alchemists deserve all the respect, of course, yet they are unaccustomed to my field of— Ah, yes?”

“How does your blood taste?”

The wizard stopped in his tracks. “I- I’m sorry?” He waited for a response for a moment. When he did not get one he continued. “Well, if you must know, my blood actually tastes of bile. You see, it serves as a natural precaution against…” He thought for a moment. “Certain entities.”

Astarion had nothing more to say than a simple, “Hm.” The two looked at eachother for a brief second, awkwardly, one weighing his options and the other debating if it was fitting to run away. Fortunately for Gale, within another second the pale elf was gone from his tent, leaving the wizard with a cloud of confusion. And maybe just a bit of fear. He stood there a moment before his eyes slowly trailed to the book now on the other side of the tent. He remembered the bloodless boar on the side of the road. He pictured Astarion’s scarlet gaze, burning with desire for something unfathomable. Suddenly he knew the answer to his problem.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Gale had been watching the two of you ever since that unsettling night. He had witnessed some unsavory moments, yes, but everyone has to make their sacrifices. And his sacrifices were undoubtedly worth it— every night he stayed awake long enough to watch the elf make his way into the forest to sustain himself on blood from some unknown source. This night in particular was one that would change everything. This night was the night he would reveal Astarion’s true nature to you.

After witnessing Astarion make his way into the forest for his nightly ritual, Gale hurriedly makes his way into your tent.

“Y/N? Y/N! Wake up now, this is dire!”

“Huh—“ You, wide awake, turn around to Gale’s face a few mere inches from yours. “Gale! Why the hells are you in my tent?” You hiss, backing up to escape his pleading puppy eyes.

“No time for questions, we must go into the forest! There, a truth will be uncovered, and you will be free from the vampire’s wicked hold!”

You’re about to ask Gale to speak like a normal person, yet he quickly grabs your hand and drags you outside before you can protest. “Gale, this isn’t really—“

“I assure you it is!”

Without another word he leads you both onto Astarion’s trail. The only problem is that Gale does not seem to know exactly where the pale elf has wandered off to, as he has never before made the courageous decision to follow him into the unknown abyss of the woods. You watch him anxiously look around and mutter to himself. You sigh knowingly, turning away from him and walking on a path you’ve traced many times before.

“Wait, wait! It is incredibly dangerous and you do not know where your judgements may lead you!”

“I promise you I do.” You pointedly say, leading him deeper into the forest so familiar to both you and Astarion. You stop as you reach an area uncovered by the canopy of leaves.

“Why-“ Gale begins before catching sight of the perpetrator. There he is, standing there in the moonlit clearing, shirtless. Gale would probably take more notice to the current scenario if he did not already have a speech planned.

“You- You creature! I knew there was something foul deep within you from the moment we met! I recognized your intent all along— to simply deceit every innocent being you came upon, to lead them under your malicious influence. But here I stand, shattering your mask and revealing your true being: a vampire! Cower under my fireball—“ Gale stops for a minute, trying to remember what to do next, before quickly summoning a fireball in his hands like he originally intended. “And consider our fight… BEGUN!”

The crickets chirp as he finishes his lengthy speech. Astarion is the first to speak.

“…Is that all?”

“Yes. W-was it not obvious?”

With Gale’s answer, you and Astarion immediately break into a fit of laughter. Gale stands there, confused, quickly glancing between the two of you and wondering what the joke was.

“And what are you gonna prove my ‘true being’ with, oh wise wizard?” Astarion smirks, still collecting himself.

“With—! With…” Gale pauses, looks around in a panic, and realizes a key factor of his plan is missing. There is not a bloodless life to be seen. “What in the realms— Why are you here, then, Astarion? What do you sustain yourself with? Answer me!”

Astarion merely purses his lips, rhythmically tapping his fingers to the side of his face. He gives Gale a pitiful pout. “Oh dear… This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

And suddenly Gale realizes. He turns to you immediately, the fireball now accidentally pointed at you. “You knew?!”

You raise your hands in protest, eyeing the fireball in his hands. “I-I mean, yeah. Like, everybody knew. Except you, of course.”

“What?”

“They are right,” Astarion adds, “Nobody told you because you are a little… well… extreme.” A pause. “And desperate.”

“I’m— I’m not—!” Gale’s fireball just burns brighter, and you begin to think it’s enough to send the entire forest into flames. However, you’re more worried about the possibility of him literally exploding and obliterating everything in his proximity. You glance towards Astarion, whose eyebrows are furrowed at the same thought. The resentment in Gale’s eyes grows brighter with the flame. Yet, suddenly, the fire disappears. The wizard looks as if he’s about to collapse into despair at any moment. “I don’t understand! You make no sense!”

He turns towards you and points an accusing finger. Astarion just shrugs as you glance towards him. “Even when I am right in front of you, laying down my life, you do not care! I am a respectable wizard, name known to beings far and wide! What does he offer, huh?”

You silently raise your eyebrow. Gale just scowls.

“Ugh. Typical.” And with that he whips around, his sleep robe lashing behind him. As he storms off he adds, “Don’t even add me to your party tomorrow. Or ever.”

You weren’t planning on it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So a few days ago I posted something about making a ‘nice guy’ Gale fanfic but not posting it out of shame and I ended up getting like 30+ likes so I thought it was only fair to actually post. Anyway please don’t hold me accountable for this k thanks love u guys I’ll probably have LOTR content soon

[pixie-in-a-moonlantern]

Welcome to Pixie!

My BG3 obsession has birthed several fan stories and inspired the art above. I very much like Durge and their story, my favorite companion is Halsin, and favorite NPCs are Gortash, Raphael and Rugan. Feel free to check out my stuff:

Kill me like a lover

explicit » F/M (m/f/m) » Gortash, custom f!Durge, Halsin » CW: poly, whump, violence, blood, PiV, cunnilingus, rough sex, fluffy sex, graphic threats of violence, light breeding kink, creampie, pain kink, knifeplay, blood, toxic relationship traits, dubious consent, resisting Durge, fluff, angst, trauma on top of trauma on top of trauma

Read on Tumblr / AO3:

(prelude 7k words) * I don't like you * tumblr » / AO3 »

(main 13k words) * Kill me like a lover * tumblr » / AO3 »

Read on Wattpad:

(whole fic) * Kill me like a lover * Wattpad »

Plan: 1) Halsin only fic (fluff, angst, smut), 2) coronation ball (bloody, possibly smutty), 3) Bhaal temple (extra bloody, full-on angst and trauma), 4) Gort fight (diverging from canon)

Can't promise I will fulfill the plan, but that's what I'm thinking of. Will appreciate any love, especially reblogs and comments. Would kill to have someone to discuss this with, too >;)

Lil Halsin one-shots on AO3

What if I just kiss you? - Halsin x reader, teen+, a 'forceful' kiss prompt, a little irrational argument with Halsin resulting in a kiss, flashfic (905 words)

Wildshaped therapist - Halsin x reader, mature (alcohol), cat Halsin, depression, angsty pining, fluff, cat therapy, spooning a large hunk of elf, 2k words

[Interlude] Love, Halsin - Halsin/custom f!Durge, an in-between fic of my Durgetash/Halsin story (above) where I focus solely on Halsin and his Trauma™, mature, angst, hurt/comfort, crying man, fluff, 3k words

(To hug a bear - unfinished Halsin x OC with a spot of Astarion, mature (didn't get to smut), 4.7k words)

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt13

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

I'm depressed, have barely eaten all day, and haven't taken my nightly meds yet. All this to say: this is not proofread. (I will be eating and taking my meds right after I post this)

Warnings: references to slavery, discussions about fears, self-doubt, references to abuse/torture, references to blood/gore/viscera, hurt/comfort, light angst

Word Count: 1,635

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You probably wouldn’t have agreed if Karlach hadn’t jeered you on. Tensions were high, the Absolute was hanging over your heads like an executioner’s ax - what could it really hurt?

“Close your eyes, little ones. Be still as stone to earth. And remember to breathe.”

Fidgeting uncertainly, you do as she asks, but you reach over and take Astarion’s hand. He’s quick to hold on, and soon it feels like your world has been tilted on its axis.

When you open your eyes, your hand is empty, and you’re no longer at the circus. You seem to be standing somewhere in nature, but it feels… off, somehow. A manufactured illusion. A waterfall, split by rocks, spills into a river. The river creates a divide between you and Astarion, with only a thick log bridging the gap. If the tadpoles weren’t protecting Astarion, one slip and he’d be reduced to nothing. You didn’t like thinking about it.

To your right, the druid stood. “Ah. Glorious. Your bond is sweeter than nature’s dew. I see you. Know you. But do you know one another?”

You share a look with Astarion. Something silent is communicated with just that one glance - don’t tell her anything true. Karlach may have egged you into this, but telling a random stranger your deepest selves didn’t sit right with either of you.

“A tumultuous past haunts you both - the same story with different tellers. The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous.” She looks at Astarion with her glowing eyes. He feels as though she is looking straight through him into the very core of his being. “Astarion, when is your lover happiest?”

Your heart thuds as he contemplates his answer. His eyes study you, a slight crease between his brow. It’s… difficult to allow yourself to be seen. You’ve shown him so much already, allowed him to witness the horrors you faced, but seeing was far different than speaking it aloud. This question wasn’t something so simple as What is their favorite color? It requires an answer that can only be formed through observation. And, gods, you had no idea how he saw you.

He offers a slight grin, though his brow remains tight. He must sense your worry. “Any time they’re with me, of course,” he said haughtily.

You chuckle slightly. It’s not a lie, and from the glimmer in his eye, he knows it. “It’s hard not to be.”

He steps forward on the log when the druid prompts him to. She turns to look at you. “Now I ask you: when is he happiest?”

If he wishes to play this game of half-truths, you’re happy to indulge him. He smiles when he catches that same look shining in your eye. “When he’s elbow deep in gore.”

He chuckled. “Guilty as charged,” he agreed, before leaning in conspiratorially. “Sometimes literally…”

You stepped onto the log. Even if it was an illusion, you worried for a moment about slipping and falling in.

“Your bond beats in pleasure. It is an honor to behold,” the druid waxes. “Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what do they desire more than anything?”

A salacious grin tugs at his lips. You give him a pointed look. Whatever unholy thoughts crossed his mind are tempered, for now. “A glass of wine under the stars.”

“As long as it’s with you.”

He steps forward. Zethino poses the same question to you.

“Revenge.”

“Oh yes!” he exclaims, becoming giddy. “Yes, please.”

You step forward. You could touch him now if you wished, merely an arm’s length away.

“Our touch has been one of sunlight, but now we must ask the deep. The difficult. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. What do they fear most?”

He can see the answer in your eyes. Even just posing the question makes you uneasy. You frown, memories flickering within your irises. He wishes to reach out, touch your cheek, assure you he’s here. But something in the druid’s energy tells him he can’t. Instead, he does his best through his answer alone. “Gale’s cooking.”

It startles a laugh out of you, catapulting every horrible, real fear away in an instant. All you can do is nod as your giggles taper off. He takes a small step forward.

“Astarion - what is his deepest fear?”

With a new confidence, a new self-assurance, you grin as you say, “Breaking a nail.”

That, too, shocks a laugh out of him. He makes a show of checking his nails. “Well, when you look this good…”

You take your own small step forward, and you don’t hesitate to take his hand the moment you’re within reach. “Thank you,” you whisper. The words come spilling out before you can stop them, but you mean them so truly. Where he feared having his truth told to strangers, you feared giving your truth any voice. To speak your master’s name was as good as tying a noose ‘round your neck.

He leans his forehead against yours. “Of course, my love.”

The druid sighs, smiling brightly. “I press my finger to your bond and find a shield impenetrable. It is… beautiful. Your love is one few have - cherish it.”

-

The day is a staggering success, you think. Sure, you had to fight a few cultists, but the aura of contentment around everyone upon the return to camp was reward enough - a few cuts and scrapes weren’t going to dull that anytime soon.

But even as you go about your routine, lighting a new candle you got from a vendor and setting it in the metal pan, listening to Astarion scoff at a poorly thought out plan from a couple thieves he’d overheard, something uncertain clings to the back of your mind. You must not hide it as well as you think, because Astarion sighs and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing your fingertips.

“What’s on your mind, dove?”

You sit down fully across from him, frowning as you watch him tenderly care for you. “I keep thinking about the druid,” you admit. “The love test.”

“Thank you again for not divulging everything. I trust you with that information, not a random carny.”

“That’s the problem, I think.” You meet his eyes and you look so utterly uncertain. You search for answers in him, trying to find them before you have to speak the questions aloud, but you come up empty. “She asked how well we knew each other, and- and I know it’s silly. I mean, we know each other well enough to skirt around the truth, but…”

He hums. “You’re worried we don’t really know each other as well as she thinks.”

You nod.

“Well, then, there’s only one thing for it. I don’t have a mystical waterfall, but I think we can make do.” He lowers your hand to his lap, and you subconsciously turn your hands over so you can play with his fingers. He smiles at the gesture. “When am I happiest?”

You study him. Your eyes flicker over his face, taking in every minute twitch, slowly but surely putting the truth together. “I don’t think you’ve been happy in a long time,” you whisper.

He grins, but it’s sad. His eyes betray it all. “I’m starting to learn how to,” he assures softly. “You haven’t been either, have you, love?”

You shake your head slightly. You couldn’t recall a time before your slavery where you were happy; all those memories lost to time and torture. But even now, out of arm’s reach from her, joy was fleeting. A moment here and there, stolen from time, but never consistent. “I am happy with you,” you add. “What do I desire most?”

He sighs. The answer is already one he’s familiar with. “Freedom.” He squeezes your hand, eyes sharpening with determination. “And we will be free. Soon, my dear. You can be sure of that.”

The difficult question, the druid was right about that. Neither of you wanted to ask, and neither of you really wanted to tell. But both of you stayed there, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Your deepest fear,” you begin, quietly, “is forever feeling like a slave to someone else.”

“Is that yours, too?”

You tear your eyes away to watch as you lightly thumb at the blunt edges of his nails, trailing from one finger to the next. His nails were always so well kept and tidy despite the dirt and viscera that haunted your daily lives. “It used to be. Now…” You inhale shakily. “I’ve made so many wonderful friends. And I’m terrified to go back to- to her. But losing all this - losing you - scares me more than anything.”

He frowns. He can’t say you won’t lose them. This mission you’ve found yourselves on is dangerous; you risk your lives every single day. And once it ends, it’s a terrible truth that everyone will go their own separate ways.

What he can do is bring your hand back to his lips and press a kiss to your palm. He can close your fingers around it and get you to hold that symbol of his love safely. And maybe that’s all he needs to do. Really, what could he possibly say? Any assurance would be like rubbing salve on an arrow still embedded in your side.

And perhaps it’s enough, because you lean forward and wrap your arms around his waist, and he wraps his around your shoulders and back, pulling you close. He’s determined to find better answers to the questions, one day. You both will find consistent happiness, and desire something as simple as a good book. And you won’t be afraid of being alone again.

One day.

---

Tag List:

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[elaenya]

127

Ascended Astarion x gn reader.

Just an angst drabble of a scenario i’ve imagined lately. Astarion is described as rather abusive.

TW:Abuse, isolation, depressive thoughts, suicide.

127 years, one week and four days. You had counted every single day since your freedom had been taken from you.

This wasn’t what you expected, and if you had known that this life was ahead of you, you wouldn’t have even considered helping him take the power that now seemed to crush your very being.

But he had been so compelling, so convincing. He had your strings wrapped around his fingers and played you like a puppeteer.

It wasn’t always this bad, though. For the first 30 years he had given you everything that he’d promised. You danced, travelled, stretched your wings and soul in every corner of the world and came back to the home you’d settled in together. He threw you parties, brought you the finest wine, and held you as the heat of the morning sun escaped through your windows and settled upon your cold skin.

Then he became possessive, paranoid. He accused you of things you never did, of trying to leave- so he made sure that you never could again. It was funny how that worked, a vampire spawn tied to its master. Just his words forbidding your leave left a burning power through your veins. If you ever tried to even as much as stretch your arms out through the window, the agony that soared across your bones and limbs would leave you weakened for days.

Sometimes you wondered how your friends were doing, though you weren’t sure if you could really remember just who they were. You knew their names, their voices that echoed through your dreams, and that you longed for the absent reality where they burst through the door to rescue you from your prison. Was Jaheira still as warm and strict, and did Wyll still love to dance?

Were they still alive? Any of them..

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, to think that you were all that alone in the world.

In some ways you almost wished your cell had been in a cold underground prison, not in the mansion that reminded you everyday of what you used to have. Not the bed you used to lay in, not the halls he used to chase you down. Just a stone wall and a cold bed.

Anger, fear, sadness- it all rushed down on you like lightning. It stole the air from your lungs.

The realisation that the realities you imagined weren’t real and never would be crushed your entire soul until only strained breaths were left. You weren’t going to see Karlach break down your door, or Shadowheart embrace you tightly. No, all you had was the stupidly detailed wallpaper and a ceiling which didn’t turn any less white and plain each day that passed.

You swung your body up, grabbing on to the first thing your hand got contact with and threw it across the room. A vase. It landed on the wooden table on the far right of your room, crashing into small pieces on the floor.

It wasn’t enough.

You grabbed a hold of the thin wooden post of your bed, tugging on it until broke off and you could throw it on the floor. There it fell into pieces, sharp and ragged wooden pieces.

Perhaps it was desperation, or pure rage, but for a moment you saw the sharpest wooden piece as something else. A stake.

Your hands fumbled as you fell down on your knees, tears staining the carpet below you. There weren’t many thoughts as you moved, just a scream of despair as you grabbed on to the piece and plunged it into your chest.

It burned and ripped through your body with a pain far worse than anything you’d felt before. It strangled you, engulfed you, and yet there was also a sense of relief.

Arms wrapped around you, trying to tug yours away from your body. Muffled shouting surrounded and echoed against you.

The two of you both got to feel something you hadn’t felt in very long.

Freedom, and pain.