#baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction

[ollypopwrites]

Dinner and Diatribes;

Gale x F!Tav (she/her, AFAB) [note: references to the fact Tav is Curvy but there’s no descriptors on her appearance besides what she’s wearing]

Summary: Gale gets his perfect night in Waterdeep.

Rating: M (18+ MDNI)

CW: smut (oral sex, PiV sex, fingering, slight overstim, references to Dom!Gale but he doesn’t actually make an appearance this time), insecurity, General Mystra Warning, L-bombs

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: this was originally written with my SorcBard Tav in mind. They end up together post-game and Tav and Gale have not been with each other physically as of yet.

Read on Ao3

Tav appraised her appearance one last time, nerves bubbling up in her when she knew there ought not to be any. She was having dinner with Gale, not a stranger.

Yet, she tugged at the lacy sleeves of her tunic, the cream colored fabric dangling off her shoulders and belling at the sleeves. Her breasts were up and out, figure tucked and smoothed by the sturdy corset she wore. The wrap skirt, slit at the leg with stockings underneath, was periwinkle, hugged her hips and showed some skin. She had wanted to veer away from the normally shapeless practicality of the protective gear she wore throughout their journey.

And she found the delicate pale blue embroidery against the white fabric of the garment to be quite pretty, the silk bows that served as sleeves made her think of romantic ballads. She felt delight at wearing something pretty without thinking of practicality for the first time since being taken by the nautiloid. There was a novelty to sitting down to take time to get ready for something fun rather than something that could potentially end with blood and death.

Her eyes drifted over to the corner of the room that until recently had housed a small altar to the Mother of Magic.

In its place was a vase of flowers, Tav’s favorite colors and blooms, which had appeared that morning. The altar itself had mysteriously disappeared the day after they first arrived in Waterdeep. Neither of them had said anything about it, but she knew he had seen her staring at the dusty offerings and long burnt incense laid at the feet of an idol of his former lover.

With one last look in the mirror she bolstered herself. She was no goddess but she had defeated a Vampire Lord, undead generals, a 200 year curse, hordes of goblins and a Netherbrain. That had to count for something.

Taking a deep breath she left through the bedroom door, and was met by Gale.

Well, Gale’s double. A projection, as he was often fond of using.

“Greetings! I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep!”

“Oh, are you?” She asked sarcastically.

“I am indeed!”

Sarcasm was not translated into the projection it seemed.

“If you are ready for the evening to begin, please say so, if not, I shall await your confirmation.”

Tav smiled a little, “I’m ready.”

“Please follow me.”

She followed him down to the same level as the study, and she found herself confused. They were meant to be having dinner. The whole package, she had recalled, he wanted to wine and dine her. She expected to be escorted to the dining room, not the study.

The door was closed, and the projection gave a polite bow to signal its leave. Should she knock? Uncertain, she gripped the door handle and opened the door.

Immediately she was confronted with a wave of unfamiliar smells. Normally the study smelt like the fireplace, leather of bound books, ink and slight sea air from the terrace. Instead this smelled of savory food, crisp night air, and heavy sea spray. The entry was draped by lavish silk curtains hiding any view of the room, tassels and embroidered prints creating lovely textures.

Gale stood waiting for her arrival.

His hair was pulled back and pinned neatly in his new fashion of a small bun at the back of his head. He wore a white tunic, billowed sleeves and a jerkin of sapphire blue, embroidered intricately with bronze filigree. Dark blue breeches, and what looked to be blue shoes which matched his vest.

It also looked as if he had trimmed his beard, the lines smooth and incredibly sleek. Tav had certainly noticed how handsome he was during their travels, and even then he was always somewhat genteel despite the rugged conditions.

This was different. He seemed more in his element like this, maybe not quite so formally dressed, but she could imagine this was the Gale Dekarios which caught the eye of a Goddess. Confident, gentlemanly and remarkably good looking.

His eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Hello,” she said, aware how nervous and jittery her voice was despite her smile.

“Hello,” Gale grinned. “You look… exquisite.”

She blushed. “And you look very good in blue.”

Gale kissed her cheek, and she gripped his face to make sure he kissed her properly. “I’ve prepared everything,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“For you? Always.”

Like a true gentleman, he offered her his arm and she accepted. They walked through the fabric barrier and Tav audibly gasped at the transformation. The study was changed, made to look like an enchanting garden. Lit up by candelabras, framed by arches made of vines and flowers of every color imaginable, it was beautiful.

The view from the terrace had been expanded, so that from every angle a clear view of the glittering lights of Waterdeep glinted. The entire mirage was topped with a star filled sky and the moon hanging at the horizon of the water. She could feel a breeze, not too cold but carrying the scent of the ocean.

A table sat at the center, intimate, and music was playing from some unseen source. Most likely the enchanted piano. Where she knew the terrace was, his couch still stood, overlooking the view. The sounds coming through beyond the music were real, she could tell. It was simultaneously an illusion and blissfully real.

He led her to the table, pulled out her chair for her and then sat across from her. The smile on her face was starting to hurt her cheeks, only emphasized by another Gale projection bringing them wine. They toasted each other and she looked out on the view of the city.

“Do you like it?” He sounded uncertain.

Her hand came out to grab his across the table. “It’s hard to describe, but like isn’t a strong enough word.” She glanced over to the projection of Gale waiting to be summoned for any need they may have, “although I think the waiter fancies me.”

“I applaud his taste.”

It was very clear how meticulously planned the night had been. From the food to the wine, Gale had an exuberant explanation for his choices. For a moment Tav wondered why she would be nervous at all; they had shared every meal together for months. But, Tav knew that this was the courtship he had wanted to offer her, this was the night he wished he could have given her when he thought it was his last back on the road to Moonrise.

Gale, if he was nervous, did not show it. Instead his eyes glinted with excitement, eagerness, and delight. His gaze was so intense on her, she felt like either the wine or something else was making her brain fuzzy.

After dinner they danced, slow uncomplicated movements to the music from the piano for a while, and then settled onto the settee looking out at the water. The night sky was clear, the breeze from the bay adding a bit of chill that balanced out the warmth she felt from the wine. It was a beautiful tapestry of midnight blue and silver of the moon and stars.

She leaned against him half draped over his lap as her legs stretched out, fingers dancing over his palm which lay in her lap. His other hand gently danced over her arm and down her side. She thought she may melt at the warmth of his lips pressed against her bare shoulder, beard softly scratching as he lingered there.

“You ought to be careful, Gale.”

“Oh? What dangers lurk that I am unaware of?”

“The danger of spoiling me rotten,” she chuckled.

“I’m not averse to such a risk,” he nuzzled behind her ear, “quite the opposite, really. You deserve it, and more.”

Her mind rolled over that, heart full at his earnestness as usual. Even if she didn’t believe it, he certainly did.

“Thank you,” she said thoughtfully after a moment. “This night has been so wonderful.”

“It’s not over yet,” he whispered.

A shiver ran down her spine. No words finding their way to her lips.

“If I may be so bold,” he went on, “I’d like to partake in dessert somewhere more private.”

“Tell me, Chef Dekarios, what is on the dessert menu tonight?”

“You,” he said, a grin evident in his voice. “I’d have laid you across the dinner table if I hadn’t promised us both a bed first and foremost. You truly are a temptress,” his hand broke from her loving grasp to run along the curve of her neck, and shoulder, fingers trailing over the tops of her breasts before cupping her chin, “you incite such an insatiable hunger, even when you are doing nothing more than sitting there across from me. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to finally have a taste.”

Tav’s head tipped back, eyes closed as her skin began to flush and her heart began to thud in her chest. “I’ll allow anything you want,” she breathed. “Name it, it’s yours.”

“Tav,” he murmured.

“Yours.” She repeated.

A tug in her stomach and the strange shift of moving through the weave happened so suddenly, she opened her eyes, confused by her new surroundings. She was on her feet, Gale behind her still, but in the bedroom, no longer shrouded by lovely blue night sky but the warmth of a candle lit room and the familiar walls.

Gale murmured something, and then spun her around to kiss her. Needy, fervent meetings of lips, and tongues. Her fists curled into the fabric of his sleeves, and his settled on either side of her face. She felt a tugging at her back, then the cool brush of an unseen hand. He had conjured a mage hand to untie her corset, the fingers pulling at the strings to loosen them.

Before it managed to get them all the way undone, she was fumbling with buttons on his vest. She shrugged the heavy corset off, the thud of it falling to the ground ignored as she pushed his own garment off his shoulders. Before he could distract her with his hands again, she untucked his shirt and pulled the fabric over his head.

Her fingers danced over his warm skin, feeling hair and scars and firm muscle beneath flesh. Gale groaned, bending to grip her by the generous flesh of her thighs to pull her up in his arms, for the quick journey to the bed where he set her down. Her tunic was tugged off, thrown aside and he grunted in displeasure at the thin cloth bandeau that still covered her breasts.

Tav chuckled, grabbing the scrap of fabric and pulling it overhead. Gale’s eyebrows hiked up at the sight of her tits out, heavy and round with already pebbled nipples, and under the scrutiny she felt doubt creep in.

“Not what you were hoping for?” It was half a joke, a deflection for the blush she knew was on her face, something to do besides wrap her arms around herself.

“Are you completely mad?” He finally met her eyes, looking offended. “May I?”

She nodded, only to be firmly guided onto her back as Gale put one knee between her thighs on the bed and leaned forward.

His hands grabbed, not fully able to grasp, even with hands larger than her own. “Soft,” he thought out loud to himself. “How are you so soft?”

“I-I don't know,” she hitched a breathy tone. “Ah, gentle please,” she gasped when he began pinching and rolling the peaks between his fingers, calloused fingers from years of spell work and a combined over-excited pinch both thrilling and overstimulating, “they’re very sensitive.”

“Very important information,” he murmured, running a thumb over one in a soothing motion that still made her gasp out loud. “I wonder…”

The thought trailed off as his mouth clasped around one nipple and Tav gave an undignified squeal as her hips rolled. Too many layers between her skirt and underclothes to provide her the relief she wanted, even with his knee between her thighs. Each brush of his finger over one, followed by a firm squeeze, made her twitch and the laving of his tongue had her letting out soft little moans.

Finally he pulled away, watching as his hands continued where he left off. One hand danced over her soft stomach, and slipped down towards the waistband of her skirt, tickling the skin there until she gasped a laugh. He pushed down her stockings, tugged her skirt off and looked one last time for approval before he slipped her under things down her legs.

For a moment, his eyes darted over her body. Despite the thrill of being at the center of such avid admiration, she felt the need to do something in the face of it. A conflicting moment of uncertainty, the apprehension of him seeing any flaw in her moving her to try distract him. Her fingers came up to grab, but he gently redirected her wrist to his lips.

“You are perfect beyond imagining,” he said.

“You’re a flatterer,” she breathed, her eyes avoiding his, as they trailed over his torso and to the bulge in his breeches.

“I reject that accusation,” he said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it onto the floor before he got to his knees upon it. “I’m an admirer of art.”

Tav rolled her eyes with a half laugh as she allowed her legs to be spread, heels set on the edge of the bed. He kissed each one as he set them where he wanted, beard scratching and tongue peaking out to taste.

She was a little in awe of him like this. His eyes dark, a slight smirk painted onto his face, softened only when he met her eyes and smiled at her. With his broad shoulders forcing her legs wider as he moved further between them, and his hair coming out of his once immaculate bun, she felt her throat run dry and a heat rush through her body as she admired him.

He stopped suddenly, and she met his look of intentional seriousness. “If you need me to stop,” he said, “say the word and we will.”

She nodded her head.

He kissed the inside of her thigh again, before his eyes slid down his hands massaging around her outer lips. She was wet, it had smeared her thighs, that she already knew. A gentle gasp pulled from her lungs as he took his time, rubbing and spreading her, the same look of deep focus on his face as when he was taken with an interesting tome.

Gale rubbed along the seam of her, before spreading her open and gently rubbing her clit. A choked sound emitted from her after he commented, “you’re soaked, my love.”

“All your doing, beloved,” she replied.

“I do love hearing that,” he grinned. “You’ll have to tell me what else I do to you.”

Any response died away when he licked a long stripe along her. The slightest groan came from him, and he began to work. It was agonizing heaven, the filthy sounds as he sucked and licked at her cunt and the way he gripped her thighs only enhancing the actual sensation of his mouth on her.

Half-formed thoughts kept slipping out of her mouth until only single words and whines were all she could muster. Her hands slid over his, and he laced them together, his efforts doubling after the gesture of affection. Her excitement was running so high, anticipation adding to arousal, that she knew she would not last long.

“Gale,” she breathed, “feels so good — so close —“

He never pulled away, just found what was making her legs writhe over his shoulders the most, what made her hips search for friction, and her breath spike. Her hands gripped his so both of them had a firm grip of her thighs, as she suddenly teetered over the edge, heavy waves of pleasure singing in her veins as he licked her through it.

Except once it passed, he did not pull away. It felt good, so she was not going to push him off, but she was sensitive. Each touch of his tongue on her clit felt like a shock through her whole being making her legs clamp around him. He let go of her hands and pushed her thighs apart again, she thought that alone had her ready to fall apart once more.

Relentless and yet somehow still controlled, he was singularly intent on making her come again. The sensation almost scared her as she greedily chanted for more, more, more in her head and maybe aloud, she couldn’t be sure. Gale was groaning into her, the firmness of his grip surprising her still. She wanted him inside of her.

“Please“ she started to beg, “fuck me.”

He gave a moan, the only time she felt him falter. “One more, my love,” he replied. A demand or a promise, maybe both. “Give me one more.”

He let his fingers work over her this time, still between her legs, watching each movement she made. For her credit, she kept her hips and legs from knocking him away, the rest of her body making up for it. Her back arched, she writhed and gripped the bedding beneath her like it was going to anchor her.

When Gale slipped a finger inside of her, easy enough that he tried a second, she went stiff. “Good?”

She nodded her head.

“Words, please, Tav,” he said gently. It occurred to her he may be asking after her wellbeing rather than to tease.

Either way, she loved the feeling in her brain at the idea of it being a demand. Of him tormenting her in the most beautiful way.

“Good!” She blurted out. “So fucking good.”

His mouth had expertly pulled her apart, but she was finding his fingers to be just as talented. She clamped down around the digits pushing in her as she felt herself falling to pieces.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Good, Tav…” when she opened her eyes, she was met with him staring at hers. As if he could read her mind, he went on talking, “come undone for me.”

Her whole being responded to the request, as if he had the ability to command her body with just a word. She writhed and rolled her hips as she came, a truly unrestrained string of cries that she knew were a bit too loud. Gale’s hand cupped her cunt, and she could feel the pulse of it against his hand — his face giving way to pure want as he moaned.

“Alright?” He asked after a moment.

“Would be better if I had you inside of me,”she teased, giddily.

“Minx,” he grumbled, coming to stand.

“Tease,”she shot back sitting up.

When she kissed him he tasted distinctly of her arousal, and somehow it made her heart skip a beat. Her tongue danced over his, hand trailing down his chest to the waistband of his breeches, untying as she went. Her hands slipped inside, grasping through his underclothes at the length of his cock, hard and tenting the fabric.

Gale gave a sinful groan, eyes shut tight and when she started to stroke his jaw went slack.

Tav chuckled, “feel good, my darling?”

“Too good,” he grunted, hand gripping her wrist tight. “It’s been… far too long since I’ve — erm, partaken in pleasure on this plane, so to speak.”

Tav frowned, contemplating that, her eyes drifting to the space where Mystra’s altar had once been then back to him. “That’s okay,” she said immediately. “I don’t care.”

“You might,” he replied, wry smile masking what she knew to be embarrassment creeping up on him, “when the night ends rather, prematurely.”

Tav shrugged. “Then we drink some wine and wait until you’re up to more,” she said casually tugging off the rest of his clothes. “I didn’t wait all this time to have you just once tonight anyway.”

Gale licked his lips, eyebrows twitching up in interest.

She tugged at his wrist, “lay back,” she guided him onto the bed, pushing him to sit with his back against the headboard. “We can go slow.”

Gale got comfortable, hands grabbing at her hips when she settled in his lap. Her fingers danced over the orbs mark, raised like a scar but looking almost inked in like a tattoo. The fervor had stalled just slightly, his cock still hard between them but no longer pulsing as it had in her hand.

“What would our friends say if they knew what you were hiding under those robes,” she mused, arms curling over his broad shoulders.

“I rather think I held my own on our intrepid journeys,” he said, sounding more like himself. “Aside from the creaky knees.”

“That you did,” she agreed. “I would have been lost without you.”

She kissed him, slowly and affectionately, as she lifted herself a bit. Her fingers danced down his body again, taking their time to admire the sturdiness he hid under his wizard robes day to day.

Finger nails scratched through the hair that trailed down his torso, and into the thicker patch between his legs. She gripped him again, and he moaned into her mouth, the kiss matching his needy grasp on the flesh of her hips.

Unable to help herself from teasing, she dragged the head of him through her folds, letting him feel how wet she was for him. His brow furrowed harshly.

As she lined him up and slowly sank down, she was torn between watching every minuscule change in his expression and closing her eyes to relish the perfect fit. He stopped kissing her, the shuddering breath he drew and the way his eyes started to roll back giving her that much more satisfaction.

Her own gasp filled the soundless space between them, walls fluttering at the intrusion. “Gods, you feel so good,” she whined.

Gale was speechless. Voice stolen by deep concentration, and then his eyes opened. For a singular moment Tav felt as if she was the only other person in the world, the pure look of awe and combined sharp focus of his attention made her feel ten feet tall.

How could anyone, goddess or not, take his sincere devotion for granted?

“Do you want me to move?”

“Not yet,” he whispered desperately. “Just — please, let me —“

He pulled her to him, bodies pressing at almost every point. His arms were a tight wrap around her, his cheek pressed against her forehead as she gave him gentle kisses along his neck. It felt not dissonant to their time in the astral, joined in every way, but this felt somehow more intimate. To hold him within her, and still have him hold her safely in his arms — a perfect balance she could hardly fathom.

“Kiss me,” Gale breathed. “Please.”

Tav did as asked, fingers tangled in his hair and very gently rocked her hips. He groaned, grip becoming bruising, pausing the kiss and then coming back to it again. Slowly she started to rock, then raise her hips and roll them forward until she was slowly bouncing, the slap of her skin meeting his filling the room.

Gale broke from the kiss, hands moving to the sides of her face. That same look, as if he had seen something beyond his wildest imaginings; focused, stunned and reverent. She never felt so loved in her life, she was certain.

As if she could will the same feeling into him, she pressed their foreheads together. She moaned, as he hit just right within her. Sensitive, eager and greedy she chased the sensation.

“I love you,” she gasped.

His expression crumpled, and he groaned grabbing her around the waist so she had to stop. She could feel his cock throbbing inside of her. “You are… you — I love you —“ he grunted. “Please, let me — feel you.”

She slowed her movements to a subtle rock, which rubbed against something in her that made her entire body seize up in intense sensation. He murmured affirmations to her, face buried in her hair, his hand grabbing at her ass to pull her back and forth.

“I have to feel it,” he said, need dripping from his tone, “buried in you, I must —“

Her mouth left sloppy kisses wherever she could leave them as she rutted against him. As another sweet peak approached she leaned back, bouncing just slightly to get what she needed. Gale’s eyes flicked down to her chest, to where they were joined, and back to her face. Her body started to pulse, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

It felt so good. The drag of him against her walls, the blunt intrusion as she rolled her hips. Whines fell from her lips, she closed her eyes to focus in on the sensation, head thrown back in ecstasy.

As she peaked her legs shook on either side of him, hips moving out of pure instinct for more as she felt herself tighten around him. Uncontrollable pulses, grabbing and sucking him as far as she could talk him and a gush of wetness that added deliciously lewd sounds.

Gale seemed to stop breathing for a moment, before something in him snapped. He grabbed her hips, and with bent knees and feet planted on the soft sheets began fucking up into her.

More ruthless than she had expected, desperate and selfish and needy. It was nearly enough to get her to the edge again. Grunts from somewhere in the back of his throat joined her shocked cries telling him ‘yes’ over and over again.

He watched as he disappeared inside of her, mouth open as he panted, and then finally he broke.

With a swiftness she didn’t expect he pulled out of her, but his arms came around in a caging embrace so he still rubbed against her wet folds. He whined, as his hips jerked without any sort of pattern, punctuated by the hot splashes of him coming. Sticky, wet and warm.

His body shuddered as it passed, but he did not let go of her as he caught his breath. When she lifted her head to look at him, his head was tilted back and eyes closed as he recovered. She kissed his cheek, and he opened one eye to look at her, a smile blooming on his lips.

“You’ve ruined me,” he muttered.

“And you enjoyed every moment.”

“‘Enjoyed.’” He repeated. “Very light way to put it.”

“Then how would you describe it?”

“Hm,” he breathed. “Having trouble thinking currently. I will get back to you.”

“Now that’s a real accomplishment,” Tav laughed. “I’ve rendered Gale of Waterdeep utterly speechless.”

He laughed, one eye peeking open again before he playfully kissed her on the cheek. As she nestled back into his arms, she knew they would have to break away soon to clean up the mess they had made. But for just a moment she cherished the sound of his heartbeat, calming down and steadying with his breath.

“The first of a thousand nights.” He murmured.

“Hopefully more.”

“I’ll have the rest of your nights, if you’ll allow it.”

“They’re yours.”

Thank you for reading! 💜

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

[mooshywrites]

Bloodied Stars ~ Chapter list

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Masterlist

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“Don’t lie and tell me you could fall in love with a monster.”

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Ascended Astarion x Reader

Summary - After a more than unfortunate date, you find yourself lured into the den of a Vampire. In a stroke of luck, you have something more to offer Astarion than just blood, ending in a night where he’s all yours. When you awake, a nagging feeling tells you that something in your life has completely changed. Will this push you back into the Pale Elf’s life? More importantly, what will he do about those working behind the scenes to keep you two from ever falling into each others arms again?

Warnings - Kidnapping, drugging, biting, blood, heavy feelings, angst, “enemies” to lovers, smut, pregnancy, typical asshole ascended astarion behavior, cliffhangers, murder, death (This takes place after the events in BG3, the ‘reader’ (you) is not Tav. Just a Baldur’s Gate resident)

~ A/N - I have big plans for this one. Perhaps not well edited plans. But big ones

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Reccomended Listening - Spotify Playlist

COMMENT HERE IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO TAG LIST

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~ Part 1 - To be Loved

~ Part 2 - Atop the Cobblestone Floor

~ Part 3 - Red and Gold Stitching

~ Part 4 - Velvet Hairpins and Plush Pillows

~ Part 5 - Crimson Warning

~ Part 6 - Pomegranates and Poison

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[atrueneutral]

Feel free to just ignore this if the prompt is too horny but uh...

Mephistopheles having some fiends deliver a present to the boudoir (for Raphael or Haarlep). That present is a very confused, but also very naked, Tav who is all tied up with silk and has a collar and chain on her neck. (for her part, Tav isn't opposed to being in this... ah... position, but she'd have preferred Raphael or Haarlep be the one to have brought her here via invitation rather than... whatever this is)

I hope you don't mind a little humor! ---

Of all the strange situations Tav had found herself in (including the entire tadpole debacle), it was safe to say that this was the one of the strangest.

How it happened - well, frankly she’d been kidnapped!

It all started when she’d received a message from Helsik by way of a Scroll of Sending; the message wasn’t very descriptive outside of ‘please come to the Devil’s Fee at your earliest convenience’, and, thinking it was a job to add more (needed) coin to her pocket, Tav had gone immediately.

Into the Devil’s Fee she walked without a care in the world, only to have Helsik give her an empty smile and an emptier apology. Tav had no idea what the apology was for until two fiends burst forth from nowhere. They quickly rendered her immobile with a spell (before she could even think to defend herself), and she was subsequently blindfolded and spirited away.

By the time the blindfold had come off, Tav was naked.

Naked on a bed.

A bed in a boudoir.

A boudoir in a House of Hope.

Above her, a golden horned devil head was laughing at her predicament from where it was centered at the top of the velvet tufted headboard her back rested against. A lengthy piece of red silk hung fastened around its neck, and at each end were her bound hands. Her feet were in a similar state, ankles tied together by another piece of silk, and she was annoyed to feel a leather collar against the skin of her neck. Attached to the collar was a weighty chain that messily decorated the silk bedding.

It was an added frustration to see an unattainable, sealed note at the foot of the bed. She assumed it likely wrote out an explanation on why she’d been plucked and placed in Raphael’s gaudy boudoir.

For a split second, Tav thought to call out to Haarlep; the boudoir was mostly their domain, and maybe they would come and help her. But she wisened up and remembered that Haarlep’s definition of ‘helping’ was wildly different from that of a morally inclined person; she’d be inviting the incubus to tease her, grope her, and use her.

Which would be fine on a day where she’d been told in advance and had some semblance of knowing what-the-fuck-was-going-on.

It was probably in her best interest to call for Raphael, as embarrassing as the situation was. She expected he’d be equally perplexed by why she was in his House, naked, tied up, and in his bed.

“Uh, Raphael?” she called out meekly into the ether, thinking he could somehow magically hear her from wherever he was. “You, uh, around?”

After about a minute of getting nothing in response, Tav cleared her throat.

“RAPHAEL! You bastard! I’ll loot this place dry once I figure out how to untie myself!”

It took about fifteen seconds, but there was a burst of fire and embers - signifying the arrival of-

“What have we here!” trilled a voice that sounded vaguely like Raphael but assuredly wasn’t Raphael. “I thought I heard a guest yelling in the boudoir! And yelling without me?”

They tutted, and Tav inwardly cursed the gods.

“Not you…” she bemoaned. 

“Now why do you say it like that, little thief?” Haarlep faked a frown as they sauntered over to the end of the bed. The frown didn’t last; it flipped into a fiendish smile when they devoured the wickedly risque picture she made. “Have you gifted yourself to us? It’s good to see some results after master’s constant planning…”

“Aha! So it’s his fault I’m here!” Tav shouted like she’d deduced the perpetrator for a murder, but as Haarlep’s words further registered, the perpetrator suddenly looked like Raphael and the person murdered was her. “Wait - what do you mean ‘constant planning’?”

Haarlep continued to smile with mischief dancing brightly in their infernal eyes. They scooped up the note and slid a clawed finger under the folded flap, breaking the wax seal. Their gaze shifted from Tav to the words on the parchment.

The incubus grimaced. “And here I hoped you’d already signed yourself away to us.”

“Not today, I’m afraid,” Tav said. She awkwardly readjusted in her bindings. “What does it say? Who is it from?”

To her horror, Haarlep decided to join her on the bed with the note in hand. They crawled over, mattress dipping with each knee they took, and they situated themself over her so that their legs braced either side of her thighs - giving Tav a bird’s eye view of their barely clothed erection.

Haarlep (thankfully) shoved the note in front of her face rather than their crotch.

”I can’t read it,” she said dryly.

“Poor thing.”

To help, Haarlep read it out loud.

“Haarlep,

This mortal is a much better distraction to my son’s ambitions than you.

I suggest tempting her into a contract with your persuasive talents.

Lord Mephistopheles”

Tav swallowed. “This is a joke, right?”

Haarlep folded the letter and tossed it aside on the sheets. The back of their fingers came to caress her cheek. “Mm - no, little thief. It’s very real, as are you… here, tied up… helpless…”

“While that may be true…” Tav was beginning to feel nervous, and she resisted the urge to wriggle underneath them lest it provoke them. “Unfortunately, this situation isn’t as much of a turn on as it would be if I was here of my own volition.”

“It’s a turn on for me regardless.”

“Sure…” Tav officially hated the gods. She did not know how she was going to talk herself out of this with an incubus who was hovering over her restrained body with a hard-on, a lust-filled gaze, and an order to get her to ‘sign a contract’. She lowered her voice to a throaty whisper. “But you know what really gets me wet and wild, Haarlep?”

“Do tell…”

She raised herself up an inch by pulling on her bindings and stared at them with budding (pretend) lust.

“Not signing a contract.”

Was that jingling bells she heard entering the boudoir?

“Do you not want to stay here with me?” Haarlep purred, their hand trailed down to grip her chin while the other found and her collar’s chain. “You’d get to be master’s pet - my pet…”

They tugged up on the chain and Haarlep’s head moved in for the kill - intent on giving her an intoxicating kiss that would turn her to putty in their hands.

Shit.

“Ra-” Tav attempted to shout, but the cambion’s name was cut short by Haarlep’s smiling lips pressing against hers. The chain was given a light tug to force her closer, and their hot, forked tongue slid across the seam of her locked mouth… 

She did not know how long she could hold out; her lips were tingling in a pleasant way, her blood was racing, and the promise of pleasure was right there if only she would give in…

The lust she felt was no longer the pretend kind. 

“Haarlep, pray tell, who is your wayward plaything?”

Tav mentally and woozily cheered; it was Raphael!

“Was my warning not explicit enough? I will not tolerate you inviting in stray visitors because you’re bored,” continued her maybe savior. 

Tav could not see Raphael, as she was too busy being lip locked with a younger version of himself, and she wasn’t sure if he could see her with Haarlep’s wings and body in the way.

The chain went slack as Haarlep broke away. They relinquished their hold on her leash and discreetly swapped the chain for the nearby note. Between their bodies, the piece of parchment combusted into flames - destroying the proof of Mephistophele’s intentions.

Tav hissed as the melted seal dripped hot wax onto her chest.

Haarlep winked at her, and she responded with a glare.

Meanwhile, jingling boots arrived somewhere around the foot of the bed.

“Look who is here, Master!” The incubus said suddenly, removing themself from her body and moving over enough to reveal Tav in all her naked, restrained glory. “I wrapped her up like a little present! Just for you - specifically as she instructed…”

Heat crept up her body and flared in her loins.

Raphael, a talkative fiend who often talked too much, was rendered speechless and slack jawed. His brow furrowed and his nose scrunched while his mind worked to process what and who was in his bed.

It was a reaction that almost made up for being kidnapped.

His confusion cleared when his mouth snapped closed, and the look in his orange and yellow eyes turned insanely desirous.

“Uh, hello,” Tav said, giving him a polite wave while also trying to ignore the wetness that rapidly continued to pool between her thighs.

Her lips still tingled from Haarlep’s kiss, and the scene wasn’t too far off from a fantasy she’d had more than once. 

“What are you doing here, Little Mouse?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Haarlep unhelpfully supplied. “She’s here to have fun with us!”

She was grateful that Raphael looked somewhat skeptical. “Is this true, my dear?”

“It’s kind of a long story…” Tav replied.

Raphael glanced at her silk bindings.

“Forgive me - I don’t see you going anywhere anytime soon?”

“Ah, yes. Touché,” she conceded.

“I want to hear it from you,” Raphael said, a warning threading into his tone. “Why are you here?”

She looked to Haarlep, and they seemed all-too-curious in what answer she would give. It was anyone’s guess as to why they destroyed the note from Mephistopheles, and Tav wondered if they would feel at all indebted to her for not spilling the beans.

“Korrilla told me it was your Name Day last week. I realize I’m a little late, but I wanted to do something extra special since it was your… wait, how old are you exactly?”

“Funny.” Raphael’s thin smile did not reach his eyes. “Try again.”

“I was kidnapped?”

Why did it come out as a question?

“Haarlep, do get the mouse’s lips moving, won’t you? I think I will get comfortable and watch…”

The incubus happily motioned to return to his previous position over her.

“Alright - hold on!” Tav yelled, causing an amused Haarlep to stop. “I’ll tell you the truth - under one condition.”

Raphael barked a laugh.

“Again you show up in my House uninvited, this time naked and fettered to my bed, and you think you have the right to demand conditions?” His gaze turned stormy. “You are lucky that my fondness for you extended into forgiveness the first time.”

“You’ll forgive me for this second time as well, I think.” Tav smiled mischievously and parted her legs to give both cambion and incubus a better view of her sex. “I’ll give you the truth, Raphael; what I’m asking for is that I be returned home, safe and sound after we… reacquaint ourselves - without the talk or the signing of any contract.”

“You’ve already honored your contract, and I have not yet come knocking at your door with another.”

She shrugged with a shoulder. “I’ve learned you can never play it too safe with devils.”

Raphael turned suspicious. “What are you up to?”

“Just agree, Master,” Haarlep said. They licked their lips. “I’m tired of waiting.”

Judging by Raphael’s dark expression and the stiffness in his breeches, he was also tired of waiting.

“Very well; I will return you to your home, safe and sound - albeit sore. No contract will be signed during this visit. Now, the truth.”

The words easily left her. 

“The truth is I want you to fuck me, Raphael. I’ve wanted you undiluted and raw since meeting you, and imagine my disappointment stumbling upon Haarlep on my first visit. You should know they said some very scandalous things about your… performance.”

The (undiluted and raw) darkness that overtook Raphael’s features would have frightened her… if she weren’t so turned on by it. It was a dangerous mix of desire and fury; desire for her, fury for Haarlep.

“What did you tell the mouse, Haarlep?” he asked, head canting with a piercing stare directed at the incubus. “About my performance.”

Haarlep did not immediately respond; Tav could tell they were frantically plotting how to navigate a floor covered in eggshells.

“The mouse asked if you were good in bed...”

“And you told her?”

It was Haarlep’s turn to be nervous, and Tav savored every second.

“And I said, jokingly, of course, that you… weren’t. A-ha!”

“I see,” Raphael said flatly. “Well, since I am not ‘good in bed’ your participation privileges for this bed have been revoked.” The cambion’s unblinking, penetrative stare turned to her as he stalked over to the side of the bed.

“It was nothing but a joke, Master! At least allow me the opportunity to watch you fuck and fill the mouse?”

“No.” Raphael picked up the end of the chain and wrapped it once around his hand. “She’s mine...”

Sinfully wet after such a declaration, Tav turned her head to throw a secretive wink at a pouting Haarlep before they resentfully disappeared with a burst.

There was a snap of fingers, and Raphael came to be instantly naked and was very, very aroused. A second snap followed, causing a flash of heat to singe her skin as her silk bindings went up in a puff of smoke.

The cat gave the chain a tug. 

“Come to me, my little mouse.”

Before her mind could be overrun by sex and pleasure, Tav thought of a note to (never) send back to Mephistopheles.

Lord Mephistopheles,

No need for a kidnapping; all you have to do is ask. I’ll be more than happy to return to your son’s bed, no contracts necessary.

Sincerely,

The Better Distraction

[justanerdy-gal]

An Ascendant’s Love

-> pairing: A!Astarion x Vampire!Tav -> content: fluff, emotional, pro Ascendant Astarion, vampire bride Tav, sfw -> summary: An ascended vampire’s love is obsessive. An ascended vampire’s love is possessive. But it is no less true. In fact, there was perhaps no truer love than that of the Ascendant.

-> notes: My firm belief has always been that Astarion’s love for Tav becomes so intense after his ascension that he does not know how to contain it. That he would go from the heavens to the hells to protect them, cherish them, and keep them by his side. To this end, I wanted to write a fic that briefly expositions how I think (headcanon ofcourse) Astarion feels about his love for Tav after he has ascended. Those who think ascended Astarion is abusive may not like this fic 🙈 But I hope you all enjoy it anyways ❤️

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An ascended vampire’s love is obsessive. An ascended vampire’s love is possessive. But it is no less true. In fact, there was perhaps no truer love than that of the Ascendant.

Astarion ponders as he watches his love staring out the window of the palace, her skin as radiant as a pearl. As radiant as the day he turned her. He leans against the wall across the hall, enamoured by his consort’s beauty. She was wearing a ballgown he had specifically designed for her. He had made sure to spare no expense - much to Tav's hesitation early on. However, upon seeing Astarion's heady stare when she first put the gown on, she had decided that maybe it wasn't so bad.

It was hard for him to explain the feelings that turmoil through him when he stares at his beloved. Everything had changed when he chose to complete the Ascension ritual - for himself, not for his late master. Every sense, every feeling he had, had grown much more intense. It was almost too much for him to absorb at first. His edges had dulled over the past 2 centuries of slavery that he endured - and to just feel so much at one time - it was a feeling quite overwhelming.

And then there was her. His companion. His friend. His lover in a way that no past lover had ever been for… as long as he could remember.

Oh yes, he loved her before the Ascension - the first real connection he'd ever made in his life. The one who broke through all the walls he had built over the past two centuries, as if they were made with nothing but cardboard.

But it was as if his feelings before his Ascension were… minute. Puny.

They could not capture or describe the essence of what his little love truly meant to him. They could not do it justice.

She was the one who had saved him from his slaver - who had gone through thick and thin to ensure his happiness. Who never pushed him - not with intimacy, not with feelings. She let him make his own decisions. For the first time in his life.

When he first ascended, he had wanted to devour her whole. To devote himself to her, and have her devote herself entirely to him. Anyone else would have been terrified - scared off by the show of such intensity, such need for possession, a need to hold them close - in fear that in the blink of an eye, they would fly away, leaving a gaping hole in his undead heart.

But not her. Not the one who had opened her mind to him - allowed him to see himself for the first time. Who was locked by his side as he carved those wretched runes on the bastard’s back. It was an adjustment at first, but even without the tadpole in their brains, it's like they could read eachother's minds. It was not an intensity born out of control - Astarion had many things he could control, he did not need to control her. He did not ... want to control her.

It was a shock to him as well, to be frank. He was unsure how everything would play out after he had ascended - during that brief amount of time between his Ascension and before he had turned her. His mind was a whirlwind - the world moving too slow, his senses moving too fast. The strength of 7000 souls coursed through him, and his need to dominate was palpable. Intense.

But somehow....somehow she had seen through all that. Through the lust for control, for power, for revenge. She grounded him. Brought him back down to earth.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would have turned to the worst without her there. There was so much he was capable of - and the natural urges he had did not point towards good. But when he held her - when she melted into his embrace - he was reminded of that sliver of goodness, that had been the key to unlocking the world. He remembered their good deeds along their travels, the way he would fuss and fight, but would then softly smile as he saw the ones he helped thank Tav with joyous praises. He was enraptured by it. It made him wonder if maybe it wasn't so bad .... if he could make that smile appear on his love's face all the time.

It would take time, he found. As he settled into his new body, his new powers, his urges settled too. He found it easier to make good decisions over bad. His overwhelming desire calmed to an eternal adoration. Whenever he strayed in his natural urge to dominate, just a little nudge from his sweet was all it took to guide him back to the right path. Except for perhaps in their bed. It seems she rather enjoyed him dominating in that respect.

Time would never be enough for him to express his adoration of her. He longed to cherish her every moment of everyday. Hold her close as she blushed while he dragged his hand over her curves. To feel her shivers as he fed upon her blood. To lose himself in her lips, to ravish her with his touch, to feel her against him as she unravelled beneath him every night. To never let her go. He would never let her go.

He wanted to give her everything. He made her his bride. He would not allow her to suffer the torture he did. He would make sure she would want for nothing. Her every desire fulfilled. Her every need met. As long as she stayed by his side, he would give her the entire world.

He was now free to love her without fear - without fear of Cazador, without fear of the Absolute, without fear that he did not have the power to protect her. For the first time… he was without fear.

“What’s the matter, Astarion?” Astarion was taken out of his thoughts to see that Tav had walked over to him, her head quirked to the side as she wondered about what was bouncing through her love's mind at the moment.

“Nothing, my little love,” Astarion said, smiling as he pulled Tav in for a kiss. Tav was caught off guard by the intensity with which his lips met hers, almost set off balance as he crushed her body to him. He wrapped one arm around her waist, another lifting into in her hair, pulling her head in closer as he deepened the kiss for a moment, before he allowed her to breathe again.

“If that’s nothing, then nothing might have to happen more often,” Tav giggled, a blush creeping upon her face. Astarion face lit up with a grin at the twinkling sound of her laugh. He held her tight to him as he stared out into the setting sun.

You have given me everything.... thank you.

————

My AO3 and Twitter 🙂

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@volturisecretary @myaastarionshenanegans @leatherboundriot

[purplecatghostposts]

Did anyone order a little Wyll being captured and rescued?

Here is 4K words of Wyll realizing he has friends who will save him should he need it and general Hurt/Comfort goods!!

[fatale-distraction]

Wow look some Rolan smooches no one asked for

Part of something longer but who knows when or if I’ll finish. I’m still working on stuff for Barcus and a pretty long concept for Kar’niss as well.

~~~~~~

Rolan made an ugly face and rolled his eyes at her approach. "Don't start with me, Tav," he snapped, tossing back what remained of his mug. "I'm staying put. No more vengeful wandering in the Shadowlands for me."

Tav tilted her head at him in concern. She separated from her companions and made her way to the Tiefling's side. He looked even more of a mess than he had when they'd found him surrounded by malignant shadows. His hair was falling loose around his face and he hadn't bothered to tend to the scrapes and cuts marring his handsome face, much less mend the rents and tears in his clothes. She reached a hand up to brush away a strand of hair that had stuck to the sweat and dirt and blood on his cheek, and Rolan flinched away. Tav paused, keeping her hand close but not touching him. Then, gently, she brushed it away again, a bit of filth flaking off as she did so. Rolan squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lips.

"Let me help," she murmured.

He couldn't tell if she meant his disasterous appearance or if she spoke more generally, but he took a shaky breath and allowed her to dab at his face with a mostly-clean cloth dampened from her own waterskin.

"You could heal these yourself," she scolded, taking particular care over a nasty cut bisceting his jaw. "It's foolish self-flagelation not to. Since when did you start worshipping Loviatar?"

He snorted, then winced. "It's not worshipful. I deserve it, don't I? For being such an idiot? For letting them--letting them take my siblings." His voice broke and he bowed his head, letting his hair fall in a tangled brown curtain around his face. "My family."

Tender hands smoothed the hair back, tucking it behind pointed ears as Tav cupped his face and turned him to look at her.

"We'll find them," she assured him. She was suddenly very close, speaking so only he could hear, their chests very nearly touching. Rolan stared down at her with wide, damp eyes. "I promise you, we'll find them, and I will personally rip out the spine of every single person who dared to lay a hand on them."

The violent words were said with such earnest compassion it was almost enough to make him laugh. She was a vicious little thing, but it came, oddly enough, from a place of deep love and righteousness.

Rolan lifted a clawed, beaten hand to her face, trying to still his trembling lips. He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb while her expression shifted between confusion and determined sympathy. "Why?" he asked. "I've been nothing but rude to you."

"So has Astarion, but I keep him around," she pointed out.

Rolan snorted. "I suppose I can't argue that."

"I help those who need it," she insisted, suddenly stern. "Even if they're rude, stubborn, pompous, self-absorbed windbags who--"

"I get it," he stopped her with a wry arch of an eyebrow.

"Good." Her eyes searched his face, then she tilted her head and let her eyes drift shut as she lifted onto her toes and gently pressed her lips to his.

He drew a long breath in through his nose and moved his lips against hers. His arms circled her waist and she twined hers around his neck. Their noses bumped and he deepened the kiss, clinging to her like a lifeline.

"You're a very attractive windbag," she ammended once they parted, each breathing a little harder than before. Rolan choked out a pathetic, tear-filled laugh. Tav squeezed his arms. "I will find them," she promised again. "And the cultists will pay with their blood. Now, let's get you fixed up."

[elegantduelliste]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 1: Song

Ao3

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Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexual Language

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

I am aware of how cruel the moon can be—the many phases it sheds. Lovers, most vulnerable, suffer from such severity of its usually silvery boon. The waxing and waning of their intimacy. Their lives. Their time. By astral’s will. A day, years, or centuries of seeking out each other's tender lips. The tides of the lune renew what is fated to be.

— Unknown

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One Year Before the Nautiloid Crash

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“Where are you taking me lover? I cannot wait to experience what you’re able to do with that tongue of yours,” the human man headily breathed against his nightly suitor’s ear, while the pale elf placed a kiss along the softness of his jowls.

Astarion hummed into the man’s skin as his mouth slowly trailed pecks down to the side of his neck, in tandem with his uncontrolled gasps of assured pleasure. Ringlets of golden spools, bearing the beginnings of silver finery depicting his age, spilled down above his shoulders.

He wrapped a strand around his finger, tugging gently, allowing him to feel a slight pull at his scalp. ”Dear pet, your hair is like that of a crown fit to sit upon the brows of angels. I am undeserving to keep such holy threads wrapped around my fingertips.” He inhaled deeply whispering low into the shell of his ear, “However, I can think of another, more eager, part of your body I would enjoy having wrapped around me that I will have ruined in sin before the night is through.”

His ears perked up when he heard a sharp intake of air from the minor noble pressed deliciously at his side, as they walked arm in arm towards the tavern. Hazel eyes dazzled with sparks of lust. Another simple target. The spawn was grateful.

The scent of a cheap carafe red was thick upon his tongue as his breath fanned near the vamp’s face. Vinegar piss. Wonderful. “I…I am not used to such salacious remarks. Please do not keep me waiting much longer,” the man keened.

The familiar burn of disgusted bile bubbled in Astarion’s throat. He detested this part of the evening with his nightly liaisons. The purgatory in between.

Come with me, ye bleating sheep to the lion’s den!

Oh, but he would practice his due diligence to get his victims to adore him with his charming swagger and a faux interest in their pathetic lives! Eventually whisking them away to bed with a performance of erotic words dripping from his serpent’s mouth. He could make anyone fall in love with him. Yearning eye contact. A feathery brush against their necks with his fingers. An alluring grin. The promise to know them.

Thousands of denizens he deigned upon for the sake of his one and only exalted master. He was the carrion for the true evil that lurked. The one that tightened the leash around him at every turn.

”Good boy, come eat your rat.”

It repulsed Astarion the moment his victim’s lilting voices careened into his pallored ears to speak of their lives. Adventures he would never have. People he would never meet. Treasures he would never see. Pleasures he would never partake. But, most of all, the sun’s warm grace he would never again feel cradling his skin.

His life ended and began with Cazador in his palace of blood and rape. Whips, chains, and the prettiest of screams. Kennels to contain his most prized pets. Lest he not forget his sudden interest in epidermis poetry! How talented his master was indeed.

The purest of shit to endure.

The people of Baldur’s Gate loved to talk about themselves. And he would listen. He had no choice. He had to feign interest. To enchant them. To indulge. It was all part of the plan—after all.

Ah, but there were times he would come upon those in the flicker of a candle’s light in Sharess’s Caress or burrowing their heads in a pint at a tavern that he would take a more special interest in. A young man that had never been kissed. A forlorn maiden that was escaping an arranged marriage. Maybe even a harlot that was once an aristocrat and had fallen into ruin. Those with stories that lived actual lives outside debauchery and the criminal mind. Rarely, were they people that would undoubtedly be missed, but Master Cazador deserved only the most beautiful beings to add to his “collection” of drained corpses.

In Astarion’s more whimsical moments, he would become the storyteller and regale his prey with memories from his mortal life—at least those he could recall—or fabricate a life that never existed. He would possess positions: a craftsman, a trader, a politician. He had been married, had children, ran away from his family, and widowed. Once, he had owned a lavish manor, with privately catered dinners to his palate. Another time, he had traveled with a king and nearly worked as his personal tactician.

Even so, there would never be a relationship to build upon for the vampire. Their fates were sealed the moment he set his designs upon them, manipulating them by way of exchanged bodily fluids and depraved pants given to the night. Unfortunate souls ripe for the reaping of his master.

“My sweetest treasure, it is not much further now,” he assured his target with a playful smile. He dipped his head to speak against the Adam's apple of the man, lowering his voice a few octaves to vibrate against his flesh. “Then, I will take you again and again until I have had my fill. Would you like that? For me to fuck you until you beg me for mercy?”

The man blushed a deeper shade of red than the wine he imbibed earlier, grabbing tightly onto the vampire’s arm with a few quiet nods.

“Good pet. Follow me.”

It was on the precipice of their journey for Astarion to bed this pathetic mess of a man, that he heard it. The distraction. A hypnosis taking him over, causing his usual instinctual schemes to falter. The constellation that made up his soulmate mark—behind the right shell of his elven ear—suddenly had a strange nerve of feeling pulsing softly.

How curious. Nearly 239 years of life—mortal and immortal—the mark finally comes to life.

He had nearly forgotten about it, a dusty reminder from who he used to be when he was “alive.” More than likely it had faded in color, along with the rest of his skin tone. One would be so lucky to be born with such a mark, a comforting solace of a personal intimate attachment shared with another being. However, it only served as a severed connection from his corporeal mortality—lost against his will. He wished he could scrub it entirely from his flesh.

As they approached the dark alleyway of the Elfsong Tavern, Astarion halted them. His body rigid of this utter intrusion paying pittance to his ears. Eyes fluttering shut, he attuned them to the delicate notes swept upon the strings of a lute just around the corner from them. He took a relaxed breath, his nostrils expanding, reveling in the blithely song gracing his ears.

There was a memory here. One buried well beneath his spawned life, hidden away from the prying eyes of Cazador. A piece, a fragment of leftover humanity just for him. Yes—a song that stuck to the walls of an abode. Safety and comfort swelling within. It brought up a familiar vague idea he once might have felt in his former life. An idea of…home. He nearly retched from the very thought of it.

What a sense of humor the gods have to send such a melody along the eventide’s breeze!

The golden haired man at his side cleared his throat in frustration. “Why ever did you stop?”

He noticed the vampire’s attention was leagues away, no longer concentrated on his promise of an unforgettable tryst. He cupped a hand over the bloodsucker’s crotch, rubbing his softened cock through the leathers of his pants with a frisky grin.

The tune tapered off, and Astarion—still dazed from the music—gradually opened his eyes to peer down at his movements, registering that the evening needed to end. He patted the hand massaging his member and lifted his chin up, quickly pressing a chaste kiss on the side of his mouth.

“You, my darling, have purified the longing puddles of void in my heart. Forgive me, but I must end our soiree a bit early. May I come find you again another evening this week?”

Letting him leave without delivering him into Cazador’s arms, was a terrible decision to execute. Yet, this fucking canticle was a succubus that would not release him no matter how much he could get down on his knees and beg, licking the succulent juices of it’s harmony.

He was starving.

Lips pouting, the dispirited patriar removed his hand from Astarion’s breeches, straightening his overcoat and shirt. He stared at him in shock, his mouth opening and closing several times. “I—I see. I bid you goodnight.”

As he turned to leave, ringlets bouncing with the few steps made, he quickly turned back around with a finger pointed in the air, as if he suddenly remembered he was supposed to deliver an important message to the vampire.

He came closer to him, leaning into his neck, and inhaled deeply. “By the way, darling, you smell of fetid rats and sewer shit. I can only imagine the state that cock of yours must be in.”

Astarion froze. His narrowed crimson eyes followed the man’s mouth flip into a victorious smirk that he wanted nothing more than to carve away with the most serrated edge of a knife. The vamp’s lips tensed. He found himself grabbing violently onto the gentleman’s bicep and swinging him around to push him against the wall of the tavern with a loud thud, nearly cracking the stone.

“Ah, I understand now,” Astarion grinned, pressing a leg in between the nobleman’s, locking him in place. He quickly removed a five inch dagger from this boot without even so much as loosening his grip on him and pointed the tip into the man’s throat. His messy curls fell forward, kissing the middle of his pronounced brow.

“Though I wonder, pet,” Astarion deftly reached inside his mouth to pry his tongue out between his sudden sobs. He dragged the dagger upwards from his throat, to his chin, and then without warning, placed one of the sharpened sides of the weapon against the wiggling muscle. “—just how rough you like it. Given that you have such a tongue to tease me with.”

Drops of sweat beaded at his temple. Panic. And then the begging. Of COURSE he would beg.

“Pleaseth do nat hurrrt me! I…I didnet mean it. I…pleaseth…I ‘ave coin. You can ‘ave as mulch as oou ‘ike! I caan, um, I caan…,” he pleaded, nervously crying. A spittle of saliva coated Astarion’s fingers.

The spawn beamed as he traced the dagger lightly against his tongue. “You know—I think there’s quite an important lesson to learn here, don’t you?”

He nodded quickly, tears streaming, a snotty nose sniffling.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure out what exactly that is on your way home. You seem intelligent enough to solve such a conundrum! And I must give myself credit for making it so easy for you.” Astarion lowered his dagger, a menacing smirk pulling the skin of his mouth upwards. “Now, it may be best for you to scurry home—lest I change my mind.”

He stepped away wickedly chuckling with the knowledge that this man that saw fit to cross him, would keep this interaction quiet. With one arm crossed nonchalantly on his chest and another open to his side—dagger in hand—he presented him with a mid bow and the permission to leave.

The lowly patriar bent over, vomiting on the ground. He heaved and sobbed until there was nothing left in his stomach, leaving it to the fates of the acids that resided inside. Poor delicate human.

Taking one step forward, he peered at his predator, checking his features for any signs that it was unsafe to leave. Astarion only continued to grin with impish teeth gleaming in the haziness of the town, glowing eyes unblinking. “Run, rabbit, run.”

It was a final warning; one he didn’t chance as he fiercely strutted away.

It was still dusk by way of the ombré purple and blues cavorting across the sky. The sun was beginning to slumber, bidding farewell to his inamorata moon as her light beamed through the clouds. Astarion tucked his dagger snuggly back into his boot and ran his cool fingers through his curls, setting them back into place. The night had not progressed as planned. This would not bode well. Cazador expected a meal tonight and would expect Astarion to “dine” with him.

Annoyed, he groaned as he crossed the threshold of the tavern. A crowd of people— including small children—were gathered near the front entrance, holding one another with simpering affections towards an elven woman. There was a lute in her hands, slightly weathered and warm in color, with beautifully detailed carvings of flowers inlaid on its soundboard.

Astarion eyed her as he stalked by. At first glance, he was disenchanted. Oh, how delectably plain this bard looks! Her hair is just sloppily braided over her shoulder. Is her eye color truly that muted? Natural makeup adding nothing to allure her audience. Gods, and her clothes! Did bards truly leave their homes looking like that?! Pitiful creature. She may never recover. He thought with a quiet tsk under his breath.

He settled himself against one of the street lanterns across from the tavern. Enough of a distance away to be free of the throes of the audience, but close enough to sate his curiosity he so righteously tried to resist. The perfect wallflower. This woman owed him, after all—for disrupting his composure.

“Play it again! Please please pleeeaaassseee! But, with words this time,” some of the children begged with toothy grins. The rest of the group chuckled and commented about how wonderfully precious the young wee ones were for taking such an interest in music tonight.

The bard smiled playfully from her sitting position on top of an overturned food crate. “Hmm, I suppose I could make an exception for one more song tonight, but then I must pack up to attend to a few things before the night is through.” She leaned forward to tap the nose of a little girl, face covered in mud, mesmerized by the songbird. The girl blushed and excitedly sat up straight.

Lute back in hand, she started off slow, finger-picking at the strings. The children’s mouths were agape and a wave of silence settled the crowd. Up and down her fingers strode, moving like a ballerina across the stage.

She switched to a tone, all emotional sweetness, as she dwindled off from the more gloomy beginning—enthralling the audience immediately. A bit more quickly she moved, her pads lightly touching the strings in cadence with her other hand that’s switching from note to note on the fretboard.

Then, she starts to sing. And her voice is as beguiling as a nightingale.

The lute eased, but her voice only grew louder. It is all delightful confectionaries being made by a chocolaterie and otherworldly siren song in one. Astarion paused, cocking an eyebrow before narrowing his vision towards her. There was a faint longing ache of his soul mark behind his ear that he didn’t register.

Her throat bobbed as she hit a tender note and the vampire couldn't help, but notice how pale and velvety her skin appeared. It was a stark contrast against the darker clothes she was wearing, but it only added to her…well—whatever the hells she had going on over there.

The songbird beamed at her listeners, a twinkle in her eyes. She swayed effortlessly, genuinely seeming to enjoy the moment. It is a gift to her. This quaint stage she has set. An audience that wished to truly engage with her music. Astarion could hear the puttering flits of her heart beating nervously, while she maintained a tight composure—an act he found fascinating, given her profession. She looked so alive as she sang.

As her song steadied for its descent, stopping the instrument in her hands to place emphasis on her voice, he saw her peering out into the crowd, catching his pair of scarlet eyes nearly glowing under the light of the street lanterns. There was an intense smirk pulling at the vampire spawn’s lips as he watched her, regarding her gaze.

He nodded in her direction, a final sinuous grin causing a lovely blush to appear upon the swell of her cheeks. A devil she doesn’t know. A dangerous thing.

The bard closed her eyes, tempering the song to its end. Then there was clapping and coin clinking at her feet. She straightened her back, arms outstretched to her sides like a bird in flight, and she bowed. When she rose, she found herself casually searching the audience for those red orbs and snowy curls against her finer shrewdness, but he had already departed, taking her curiosity and “love” with him.

[loviatarsluv]

Would That I (2)

“True that love in withdrawal was the weeping of me

That the sound of the saw must be known by the tree

Must be felled for to fight the cold”

(all credits to the op of this gorgeous pic of my wizard <3)

pairing: Gale x f!tav (my own oc, Elara)

(takes place in an AU where the absolute and the cult basically don't exist so this is non-canon compliant, I guess)

rating: sfw, this one is pretty much purely fluff and angst

CW: yearning and pining, gale being very sweet and the gentleman he is, nasty drunk man saying nasty things, slight s*xual harassment, hurt/comfort, gale being protective, tara being tara

in summary: Elara and Gale plan to go to the market and spend the day together, which is cut short unexpectedly. nothing is ever easy for the two of them, it seems.

a/n: I’m torturing myself with this tbh I love a slow burn but GOD I just wanna write sweet romantic smut about the wizard already!!!

word count: 7.8k

Springtime in Waterdeep had to be one of the most breathtaking things she’d ever seen. 

The way the dogwood trees bloomed and blossomed in gorgeous shades of pink and pastel hues, the way the flowers that had been dormant during the colder months were now full of life and bursting with color, the way the sun shone so much brighter and the breeze felt like a warm but gentle embrace. 

Everything seemed to come alive with a brand new vigor— the streets were full again, the sounds of children running and playing as well as the Waterdhavian locals just existing and enjoying the sunshine for the first time in months echoed off the sides of the stone buildings that lined the streets. The faint melodic strumming of a lyre could be heard not too far from the Dekarios residence, as a bard occupied a spot just outside one of the nearby taverns and busked for coins throughout the day. 

She caught the end of a familiar tune as she approached the large window in her bedroom— a song that she remembered her mother singing to her before bed. One of the last vivid memories she had left of her. 

Elara hoped maybe they would pass the bard on their way to the market so she could toss them a few gold pieces. 

She gazed out over the expanse of the ocean and hummed along to the song until its eventual end, smiling somberly to herself and adjusting her dress to ensure it was perfect, before pulling on her boots and grabbing the basket she uses to gather fruits and vegetables at the market. 

It had been quite a while since she’d been able to wear her favorite dress, and today was the perfect weather, the perfect day, for her to finally bring it out again. She paces past the full length mirror in the corner of the room, stopping briefly and double checking her reflection. Her hair was mostly loose, half of her dark waves flowing along her shoulders and back and half of it tied back with a silver pin that adorned the shape of a mermaid, to keep it out of her eyes. Her dress fell right around her knees, the light blue fabric having small golden flecks throughout it as if stars were scattered across it. The neckline was low but not incredibly revealing, and it fit her waist and shoulders perfectly. She always felt so beautiful in this dress. It was her mother’s before she passed. One of her only other memories of her mother was seeing her twirling in the mirror as she tried the dress on for the first time. 

She always hoped that she could be as beautiful as her mother was when she got older. She wished that she could’ve been around to see her in it as she wore it now, but somehow whenever she put it on, she could feel her presence in the room. She could almost still smell the roses and sandalwood that used to linger on the collar of the dress.

Gale waited patiently for her downstairs as she got ready for their outing, busying himself by sitting at the table and reading the local news. He had to admit that he was quite elated to be accompanying her to the market today— feeling a sense of relief when she said yes when he asked her the day prior after her previous denial of his last invitation for an outing. He hoped she wasn’t doing it out of pity, but figured if she truly didn’t want to go that she would’ve just said so or made another excuse. 

He essentially jumps at the sound of her footsteps bounding down the stairs, standing quickly and straightening his clothes before she appears from the staircase, adjusting himself and ensuring nothing was askew or out of place. He smooths his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear and adjusts his sleeves just before she emerges from the staircase. 

He had to remind himself many times that this excursion was nothing more than a quick trip to the market— but it did little to quell the sweat beads rising in his palm and the buzzing in his stomach. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with her that felt like they were both choosing to. It almost always felt like they just happened to end up in the same room as each other by chance, rather than choosing to be in whatever room the other occupied just to be near them. If it were up to him, he would remain at her side every moment that her eyes were open and even while they were closed. But it wasn’t up to him. Not entirely, at least. 

He was only waiting for the right moment, or any sort of notion that she was even slightly interested— then, he would— well, do something. He hadn’t really thought that far yet. 

Now may be an apt time to start, though.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to make sure I had everything so we can stock up and last us a little longer.” She says, gesturing to the two wicker baskets draped over her arms. 

So this is what bards sing about so wistfully. This is what the love-stricken authors had in mind whilst they wrote hundreds of pages of longing and languishing— the beautiful girl that could make an entire room full of people’s heads turn in her direction just upon her entry, with long silken hair and stars in her eyes and on her dress. 

He’s rendered completely speechless, which was not a common occurrence for Gale. His heart flutters and pounds as she smiles at him expectantly, awaiting him to let her know that he was ready to leave as well. 

She notices him staring and glances down at herself, frowning. “Is it too much? It’s just so nice out, I thought, what better day for my favorite dress?” 

He’s completely transfixed by her, he almost doesn’t catch her words before he finally returns to reality after soaring through the clouds. He shakes his head almost in disbelief. 

“Not at all. You look… radiant, Elara.” He says, his voice low and reverent, as if he were admiring a painting hung in a gallery. 

A blush rises to her cheeks as she tries to fight off the widest smile she’d probably ever smiled. “Thank you. You look… handsome.” She replies, mimicking his phrasing and making him chuckle quietly.

“Why, thank you, my lady,” he says with a bow, then holds his hand out as an invitation for hers. She timidly places her hand in his, and he presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “Shall we?” 

She’s taken aback by the gesture, her already intense blush only becoming ever more prominent and persistent, the heat in her cheeks beginning to feel as though she may burn up before they even make it outside. 

She nods slowly, then follows his lead out the door, her hand lingering in his until they reach the front door steps. She takes a few steps ahead of him and tries to steady her breathing, as he quickly casts Arcane Lock on the door before rejoining her. 

They walk side by side in silence for a little while, both of them happily drinking in the sights surrounding them. Elara is still buzzing from Gale’s earlier comment and the sensation of his lips against her skin lingered on the back of her hand— they were so soft. Like rose petals. She could hardly focus on anything but their softness, even while the scratch of his beard tickled her skin. 

Radiant. He’d never complimented her like that before. In fact, she wasn’t sure anybody ever had. Not anyone that ever mattered enough to remember at least. 

But Gale— gods, she’d write it in the stars if she could. She would paint the night sky with each syllable in only the most dazzling of stars, the brightest she could find— so that every night she could remember the way it sounded dripping from his tongue like honey. 

A single word had never filled her entire body with a warmth that the sun could never provide. She felt as though she could fly if she really wanted to. 

Radiant.

“I’m not sure if I’ve ever asked you, but how have you enjoyed Waterdeep?” He asks, slowing his pace slightly to accommodate her, her legs being shorter than his so her shorter strides made her fall behind. 

He had asked, a few times. But that was months ago when it was all still new. Plus— her answer had changed considerably since the last time he asked. 

“I love it. It is so beautiful here. I certainly don’t miss Rivington.” She jokes, a soft melodic giggle following. Gale’s heart flutters. 

“There’s nothing quite like witnessing the changing of the seasons in Waterdeep. I’m happy to provide that experience for you, even under somewhat strange circumstances.” He replies, gesturing to the air around them. 

She smiles sheepishly and averts her gaze to the cobblestone beneath her feet as they continue to walk. “Thank you, for that, by the way. For… letting me stay with you. I know it’s not ideal, to have essentially a stranger in your home, and I don’t know if I’ve ever properly thanked you for it before, so,” she rambles, trying with everything in her not to look at his face out of fear of what she might see. 

He places a soothing hand on her arm, his fingertips featherlight against her flesh as she slowly runs them along the length of her bicep before returning to his side. 

“No need to thank me. Your presence has been a delightful change around here, one that was unexpected, but welcome nonetheless.” 

When she finally breaks and looks up at him, the warm and mirthful smile on his face nearly turns her legs to jelly, but she would happily melt under the sunshine that was his gaze. 

Before she can attempt to craft a response to him, a commotion is heard ahead, and both of their attention snaps to it. A crowd has begun to form near the front of the nearby tavern, and not a single intelligible word could be made out of the raucous whooping within the crowd of presumably day drunk patrons and bystanders craning their necks to watch whatever was taking place in the center of it. She furrows her brows, suddenly remembering the bard she heard that morning, and hoping they’d been able to avoid the commotion. She watches closely for a moment before she feels Gale’s guiding hand on her back, urging her to go in a different direction, any other direction. 

“Come, let’s push on. Tara will be waiting for us, and trust me when I say she is not the most pleasant when she’s been kept waiting,” he says, his voice low next to her ear. It was a throwaway excuse to pull her away from the ruckus and to safety to avoid potentially getting swept into a hysteria she needn’t get swept into. 

If her mind hadn’t been so preoccupied by whatever was happening in front of them, she’d have been blushing furiously at the position of his hand, just above the small of her back. Something to try not to think too much about later. 

Her eyes flick to him for an instant before she hears what sounded like a lyre being smashed against the side of the bricked building. Her head snaps in that direction, and the crowd parts in just the right way for her to see a young tiefling crumpled to the ground with his face in his hands, and an older human man above mocking him, gripping part of the smashed instrument in one of his fists. 

Her face twists to a deep grimace, and before she can stop herself her feet are carrying her forward, her pace quickening. Gale calls to her from behind, his voice distant and nearly inaudible over the loud pounding and drumming of her heart in her ears. The crowd has begun to disperse only slightly, but a handful of people still linger and are either cheering on the older man or encouraging the tiefling to stand and fight. The tiefling’s shoulders shake and tremble as he cowers away from the inebriated brute towering over him, bellowing nonsense.

The man stands above what she can now see is merely a child, no older than thirteen, shouting taunts of profanity and cruelty that she tries her damnedest to disregard so as to not use her very limited knowledge of magic to send him onto his ass as she approaches the child, kneeling before him. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft so as to not startle him. She places a gentle hand on his arm, coaxing him into looking up at her. “Are you okay?” 

Before he can respond, the booming of the perpetrator’s slurred mockery echoing throughout the small alleyway interrupts them both. 

“Oi, missy! Careful, the little foulblood’ll snatch yer coin purse when ye ain’t lookin’!” 

He looks at her with desperate eyes, his yellow tinted irises beginning to gloss over again as new sobs begin to wrack through his fragile looking body. “I didn’t— I swear, I didn’t do a-anything.” 

She searches his face for any sign of deceit, noticing the faint scar that ran along his cheek from his eye to the corner of his lip that looked like it had only healed somewhat recently. His body language resembles that of a frightened pup in a cage and his tears seem genuine, so she offers him a reassuring smile. “I believe you.” 

“‘M talkin’ ta ye, missy! Ye got shit for manners too?” The man yells again, the sound of the broken instrument clattering to the ground following it. 

She continues to ignore him, her stubborn nature refusing to let this drunkard intimidate her as she assumes that’s exactly what he wants, he wants to feel bigger than himself, and thus why he was picking on a child and a woman— easy targets for his drunken tirade. 

Her ignorance sets the man off into a blind rage, and she barely has a second to comprehend the situation before she hears a grunt of fury and large hands crash into the side of her body, surely bruising her ribs with the force it took to shove her to the ground, nearly knocking the breath from her lungs. She yelps as stone scrapes across her bare arm and the side of her head collides with the ground. The tiefling jumps backward and out of the line of fire of the older man’s warpath, eyes wide and boring into hers in terror. 

“Elara!” Gale calls out, pushing through the now dense crowd frantically. 

He finally makes it through, and the very second his eyes lock on her as she attempts to sit up, blood running down the side of her forearm and one hand clutching her ribs as the other presses over the tender spot where her skull met stone, fire burns through his veins. He’s at her side in an instant, gathering her up into his arms and holding on to her tightly. 

“Are you alright?” He asks her, his voice cracking with concern. 

She nods, then glances between him and the child backed against the wall, her main focus still on ensuring his safety. She motions to the child for him to stand with her, and Gale steps in front of them both protectively as he turns to face the drunkard. 

“‘S that yer boyfriend, eh, girly? Wanna know how it feels t’ be with a real man?” The man cackles, stumbling forward as he belly laughs at his own vile taunts. 

Gale’s composure is slipping and he feels heat in the center of his palm as it begins to emit a faint and crackling orange glow. His fingers twitch against the effort it takes not to hurl a fire bolt right at the bastard’s cocky face, but it seemed he wouldn’t have to as the man notices the faint glow of fire in Gale’s palm and begins to back away, fear etching into his weathered and sunburnt features. 

He raises his hands in surrender, then quickly rounds the corner and dashes down the alley without another word, and the wizard relaxes his hand, dispelling the cantrip from his palm. 

The air is still crackling with tension as the three of them try to steady their breathing, Gale in particular finding it difficult as the sight of her on the ground and her sweet face that, prior to this entire encounter, had been adorned with a smile that could stop a charging Minotaur in its tracks, twisted in pain and a gash on her arm. Not to mention the disgusting comment that foul—

Deep breaths. 

The crowd slowly begins to disperse, some eyeing Gale wearily as they begin to back away, some pointing at him and whispering to their counterparts, no doubt recognizing him as the great Gale of Waterdeep. Eventually they, too, depart, leaving only two of them and the tiefling who was still cowering behind Elara, gripping the back of her dress as if he would fall through a crack in the ground without her anchoring him. 

Gale spins around and cups Elara’s face gently, his umber eyes teeming with distress and a bit of anger as they scan her face for any further signs of injury or harm. Her icy blue eyes were glossy but he could see the restraint as she held back any tears from actually spilling. 

Gods, she has the most beautiful eyes. 

“Are you well? Did he hurt you? Is your head okay?” He asks frantically, the words tumbling from his lips in rapid succession as he gently turns her head to check each side of her face. 

She swallows hard and tries not to get lost in the way his strong but elegant hands feel on her skin as he fusses over her, and places her hand over one of his in an attempt at calming his distraught babbling. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she shushes him, placing her other hand on his arm. “Everything is fine.” 

Gale frowns. “It is most certainly not fine, you hit your head and you’re bleeding. We should head back and clean that up, I’ll just run to the market tomorrow—”

“Gale.” She coos, cutting his rambling short.

He stops, his entire body stilling and a heat creeping to his cheeks. Reality washes over him again as he blinks out of his worrisome daze, and realizes his hands still on her cheeks, and her hand over his— oh, hells, her hands are so soft, so warm— and slowly begins to pull away. She nods her head in the direction of the child attached to her hip, reminding him that they had company still. He takes a deep breath and glances around, likely looking to see if he catches a glimpse of that bastard and hoping that he was still within range for him to send a witch bolt his way. He’s unable to hide his disappointment when his search is fruitless. 

The child’s eyes widen when Gale turns once again to face them and sighs deeply, his shoulders sinking low when all of the air exits his lungs, his body seeming to shrink with his posture. He slams his eyes shut tight, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking slow and steady breaths to calm himself. 

“Mystra, give me strength.” He murmurs under his breath.

Elara ignores the disgruntled wizard at her side, leaning down slightly to be closer to the smaller tiefling’s height. 

Elara smiles reassuringly and places her hands on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you okay?” 

The child stares up at her, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the man brooding behind her. 

“He’s with me, it’s alright.” She says, making her best attempt at a soothing and calm tone despite her voice wavering. 

The tiefling’s eyes dart to the wreckage that is left of what was once his instrument, and his frown deepens. “My lyre…” 

She follows his gaze, wincing when she sees the extensive damage. She could tell instantly upon inspection even from a distance that there was no repairing it, and it would simply need to be replaced. She offers him a sympathetic smile and a pat on the shoulder. What was once what appeared to be a beautiful instrument, was now shattered into several jagged pieces, sprawling across the ground around them. She frowns, feeling regretful for its owner but also for herself— an echo of a memory from this morning when she heard her favorite song being strummed by it reverberating in her mind. 

“What’s your name?” She asks him. 

He bounces back and forth heel to toe, his hand behind his back timidly. His peach-tinted skin contrasts the dark mop of curls atop his head, with two small horns peeking out of them. He’s quite slender, but still has the tiny bit of pudge that a prepubescent child would have, his cheeks round and youthful. He reminds her of one of her adoptive cousins that she’d only seen occasionally when her aunt would make an all too rare appearance— she hadn’t seen the rest of her family since she was around his age. 

“Dex.” He says meekly, his face downcast and defeated as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Dex. I’m Elara, and this—” she motions to the man behind her. “is Gale.”

Gale’s attention snaps to her at the sound of his own name, clearly having been mentally elsewhere during the entire exchange. He meets the uncertain gaze of the child, and bows slightly, offering a warm smile. Dex smiles back, a small chuckle leaving his lips at the gesture. 

“Thank you, for helping me. I’m s-sorry you got hurt,” he points to her bloodied elbow and forearm, reminding her of the stinging sensation biting at her nerves shallowly within her skin. She winces but tries her best to disregard it. 

“I think I’ll live. I’m sorry about your lyre.” She says, motioning to the scattered wooden debris and frayed strings. 

He shrugs. “I’ll live.” 

She chuckles, her smile widening. Gale watches her with this unfamiliar child that she had no real reason to be so kind to, other than just out of the boundless kindness of her heart, and feels that warm twinge in his chest he’d grown all too familiar with since she made her grand entrance in his life. His heart skips several beats and the urge to whisk her away and kiss her on the stoop like he’d previously imagined becomes harder and harder to resist each passing second.

“Well, Dex. I think you’d best get going home. It’ll be dark before too long and I’m sure your parents will be worried. Hm?” She tries on her best schoolteacher voice, placing her hands on her hips. 

Dex sighs, his entire body shrinking at the mention of his parents. “I don’t want to go home without my lyre… they’ll be furious at me.”

She pauses for a moment, then shoots Gale a pleading glance, hoping he has any bright ideas that could magically fix everything for this poor child. She looked at him as if the child were a lost kitten that she was begging him to let her bring home. 

He looks toward the sky pensively for a moment, appearing as if he were doing calculations in his head, then wordlessly and effortlessly waves his hand in a flourish, whispering an incantation that reassembles the lyre with a purple hued fog of weave. 

Dex’s widened eyes sparkle with glee as each of the fractured pieces of the instrument rejoin as if they’d never been apart to begin with. The lyre floats toward the child, basked in violet and sapphire light, landing gently into his still shaky grasp. Gale smiles and nods at the boy as the light fades, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride. 

“Weeping bleeding hells! How did you do that?!” He chirps, turning the lyre in his hands and inspecting each and every inch of it in search of any cracks or imperfections, then smiling a wide toothy grin, his pointed teeth peeking over his lips when there is not a single dent or scratch to be found. 

Gale chuckles, then pats the boy on the shoulder. “Stay out of trouble, young man. Hopefully next time we see you will be under better circumstances.” 

The young tiefling glances back to Elara, the exuberant expression on his face contrasting the tear stains still present on his cheeks. Before she or Gale have any time to react, he throws his body between them, wrapping his tiny arms around the both of them as best as he could manage, and nuzzling his face into Elara’s arm. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He says as he pulls away and turns to leave, glancing over his shoulder and waving to them one last time before scurrying off. 

She watches the boy disappear into the distance, skipping along the cobblestone streets with a childish glee that fills her with a wistful sensation— to be that young and for everything to be so new, for something as simple as a fixed lyre to make her completely forget any hurt or pain that had befallen her. She envies him, silently, as she watches him run home to his parents surely to regale everything that happened to him today, just as she wished she’d been able to every time something exciting happened to her during the day. 

Gale notices her sudden shift in demeanor, then places a hand placatingly on her uninjured arm. 

“Elara?” His voice is gentle and tepid, cautious. “Allow me to help you with this,” he says, motioning to the still leaking wound on her arm. “Let’s head back.” 

She sighs, turning to him but unable to muster a genuine smile, still taken by real memories and those that never came to pass. Her lips curl, but her eyes remain glossy and sullen. She nods, the motion small and nearly imperceptible. Without another word, they head back to the tower, her arm never leaving the comfort of Gale’s hand as they walk. 

Something so simple, something that could mean nothing. But to her, it meant everything. 

~

The scent of balsam and sandalwood fills the room as Gale’s adept fingers gently clean the scrape on her arm, his eyes narrowed and his brows knitted together in deep focus. He pestered her until he could coax her into sitting right in this seat where he could tend to her, much to her protest as she insisted she could do it herself and that he needn’t worry about her. 

Stubborn wizard, she grunted as he gently guided her to sit. He did not regard any of her disgruntled murmurs, her insistence that she was fine and not to worry. 

Just as she’d helped that boy on the street, he felt the least he could do is take gentle care of her the way she would anyone else. He wondered if anyone aside from Alastor had ever done so for her, her insistence on taking care of it herself giving him pause. Had she always had to pick herself up? Had no one ever swept in and dusted her off when she fell? 

He would. From now forward. Even if it were something as small and simple as rubbing balsam on the angry and gashed skin of her arm and wrapping it with the softest cloth he could find. He would be that for her. He would be anything for her, should she ask. 

It wasn’t lost on him how intimate of a gesture it was, to treat another’s wounds, either— he couldn’t deny that he simply just wanted to care for her in a way that felt deeper than just feeding her and providing a bed for her to sleep in. 

“That was incredibly admirable of you, back there. Stepping in like that. That boy won’t soon forget what you’ve done for him.” He says, his tone reverent and almost thankful. 

She smiles a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “He seemed like a sweet kid. And I would hope someone would do the same if it were me, in his shoes.” 

She says it, but she realizes that Gale sort of had done the same for her— the way he stepped in and made the man back off. The way he stood in front of them protectively, blocking them with his body as if he were willing and ready to take whatever blows aimed at her in her place. 

“He’ll remember you, too,” she continues, her breath slightly catching as he begins to wrap the cloth around her arm, and wincing as the fabric brushes against the tender skin. “You kind of saved him twice. Saved him from a drunkard and an angry lecture from his parents.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head causing a stray strand of hair to fall into his eyes as he does. “I suppose so. You took care of all the heavy lifting, though. I just helped with the clean up.” 

She fights herself and her need to push that hair out of his eyes. Would that be too intimate? Would that push things too far? 

Her eyes lock on the strand as she speaks. “You did your own heavy lifting, for my sake. Thank you. For stepping in. And for this,” she motions to where his hands are gently tying off the ends of the cloth. “Even though you didn’t have to.” 

He finishes tying a very delicate but sturdy bow, then sits back slightly, still close enough to see every detail of her face as clearly as he could see his own in a mirror when he was close enough, and eyes her for a moment, a smile ghosting on the edges of his lips. 

“To do something for someone doesn’t always have to be borne of necessity or desire for reciprocity. I wanted to.” 

His face was so close, she could nearly feel his breath whispering across the flushed skin of her cheeks. She wants to say thank you again, but finds that every single word in her vocabulary has escaped her as she basks in this closeness and the way she can see the reflection of the flickering candle beside her in his dark eyes that still managed to seem so bright with the way they twinkled as he looked at her. 

Had he always looked at her this way? Why did this feel so different? 

“Can I ask you something?” He breaks the silence but not the tension as their gazes stay locked. 

She nods, still trapped in the daze of the intimacy of the moment. 

“Earlier, I couldn’t help but notice— and feel free to disregard my asking, if I’m overstepping— you seemed a little… off. When the boy ran off. You looked pensive.” 

She swallows hard despite her throat feeling dry, her entire body tensing at his questioning. The emotions of the day had fluctuated so immensely and the mention of the culmination of it all in that moment only serves to bid them to return in full force. A pit forms in her stomach and she feels the urge to retreat. 

“Perhaps a story for another time. I’m… it’s alright.” She tries to maintain composure, despite her words wavering upon delivery. She offers Gale that same smile from before— the one that never quite reached her eyes. He frowns, but nods. 

“Understood.” He says simply, their faces still dangerously close. He moves one hand to comfortingly cover hers as it rests on her knee, patting it gently. “I'm always here to offer an ear, whenever you need.” 

The warmth of his hand and his words radiates throughout her entire body, down to her bones. She notices the strand is still hanging in front of his eyes. She doesn’t hold herself back from brushing it away this time, her fingertips lightly graze his forehead as she tucks it behind his ear. Her hand lingers near his face for a while, but not nearly long enough, before she drops it back to her side. 

Gale looks taken aback by the gesture, quick fire flickers of shock, trepidation, then elation flashing across his expression. He smiles a smile that sends a shiver through her, his eyes dropping to her lips and the gap between them suddenly seeming so much smaller. 

Oh. 

It was getting smaller, as she realized that the magnetic pull between their lips was getting stronger as they both began to lean in, her body taking the reins as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening and determine if she were dreaming or not— was this just an infatuation induced hallucination? Had she finally lost it? 

“Mr. Dekarios?”

The sound of Tara’s voice calling from down the hall cuts the moment short, both of their heads snapping in the direction of the sudden intrusion. Gale sighs, his head falling in evident disappointment. He glances at her, her eyes wide and her cheeks a bright rosy red that makes his heart flutter. 

“To be continued, perhaps. I should—“ 

“No worries, go ahead. I’m going to go rest, my head is killing me.” She waves him off, attempting to hide her own disappointment and slight shock. 

Gale stares at her for a moment, the desire to kiss her still lingering but ebbing as he sees her pulling away, suddenly feeling as though he’d done something wrong. He opens his mouth to ask, but before he can she’s standing and quickly darting across the room and into the hall, stopping just at the doorway and peering at him over her shoulder. 

She sighs, placing a hand on the doorway and using it for support, her legs feeling as though they may give out on the spot. “Thank you, again.” 

He watches helplessly as she disappears into the hall and the sounds of her footsteps fade slowly, preceded by the sound of a  bedroom door clicking shut. His eyes pinch shut so tightly that it nearly hurts, and he sinks back into his chair, wishing a blackhole would form underneath him and swallow him. He could conjure one, if he wanted. 

He heavily considered it. 

“Mr. Dekarios, fix your posture! Your back already aches enough as it is,” Tara remarks as she strolls into the room, blissfully unaware of the havoc she’d just wreaked on his sanity. 

As per usual. 

~

There were a surprising amount of cracks in the ceiling above the bed in the room that she stayed in. 

Everything else in this tower seemed nearly pristine aside from appearing well lived in and well loved, Gale evidently cared greatly about his surroundings. The home was cluttered but organized to his exact liking, perfectly tidy but still cozy and comfortable. Anyone who entered would feel at home. 

She felt at home, more than she wanted to admit to herself. She tried to continue to remind herself that at some point she would have to leave and move on. But as she lay in this bed— this large, ever so comfortable bed— gaze trailing along the strangely cracked ceiling of her bedroom, she wondered what the ceiling of his bedroom looked like. 

She was certain there were no cracks in his bedroom ceiling. There couldn’t be. 

Today had been immensely overwhelming in terms of her feelings toward Gale that had been simply burning embers and were now alight in full force— him having stoked the fires tenfold with his seemingly innocent touches and his evident care for her that he put on full display multiple times throughout the day, all culminating in an almost-kiss. 

They almost kissed. He almost kissed her.

They were so close. She could still feel the heat of his breath against her cheeks and the skin of the back of her hand tingled with the sensation as if his hand remained there still, his thumb rubbing languid circles against her wrist. In fact, every part of her skin that he’d touched today still felt as if it had been electrically charged, still buzzing, and her stomach aching. She missed the feeling of him already and it was only a mere whisper of a taste rather than an entire bite. 

It wasn’t entirely her fault, obviously, that it never came to pass— Tara had a way of having serendipitously terrible timing. She wasn’t always sure that Tara didn’t know exactly what she was doing, and she wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case this time. 

It was endearing, most of the time. 

But even if Tara hadn’t interrupted— would she have really kissed him? Would he have really kissed her? Or would some other force of nature and horrible timing pluck them out of each other's grasps yet again? 

She thinks maybe he would have. She hopes. 

Now, she’s not sure she’ll ever get the chance to. 

Guilt began to gnaw and claw at her insides furiously as she remembered the way she’d exited the study— hurried and curtly— and the way hurt and confusion etched into his features as he watched her leave. She couldn’t explain why she left that way, she truly didn’t know. She wished she did. She wished she understood why she ever ran away from Gale in the moments when they felt the closest. The moments she had longed for for so long— so why wouldn’t she let herself enjoy them? 

It wasn’t that she was inexperienced in the romance department— she’d had a few partners here and there, mostly in school, and one since then that lasted a couple years but ultimately just didn’t work out— and if she’s being honest, she’d never been nervous around another person the way she was around him. 

And strangely enough, she felt very comfortable with him most of the time— aside from the occasional flips her gut did when she glanced up to see him at his desk, deep in thought and quill in hand, glasses perched just on the end of his nose as he read whatever scroll or tome he was fixated on.

He’s an easy person to just exist with. That is, if you aren’t hopelessly enamored with him. 

Gods. 

She clenches her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose— another habit of Gale’s that she’d picked up— wishing the large quilt and plush mattress beneath her would just swallow her. Just take her away from it all and save her from having to deal with the consequences of her own idiocy. 

Knock knock. 

“Elara?” 

The sound of Gale’s voice on the other side of her door lurches her from her thoughts and her body up from the mattress. She quickly hops off of the bed and approaches the door, her hand hovering over the handle. 

“Yes?” She asks, turning her head so her voice appears further away than it actually was. 

She hears what sounds like feet shuffling aside from a brief pause, before hearing a long and defeated sigh. 

“Can we talk?” Is all he manages, dejection evident in his tone. 

She reaches for the handle again, turning it slowly and pulling the door just enough to see him through the crack. 

He looked the way he did when something was weighing heavily on his mind or vexing him— she could tell he’d been raking his fingers frantically through his hair as it was uncharacteristically messy and unkempt, his robes were nowhere to be seen, and he stood only in his white wrap shirt and his breeches. 

Not now, brain. Not now. 

“Everything alright?” She asks, trying to hide the sound of her swallowing the massive lump in her throat. 

He shakes his head, placing his hand against the wood grain and gently pushing it, opening it further. 

“The very question I came to ask you,” he retorts. “May I?” 

She nods, backing away from the door to give him enough room to push it the rest of the way open, her heart thudding a million a minute. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his expression nearly unreadable. For as expressive as his eyes were, she had such a hard time understanding him or trying to sort out what mental storm was brewing in his head. 

“I could not bear resting my head upon my pillow and or fathom sleeping a wink tonight without knowing whether I’ve done something to upset you or not. If I crossed any lines today, please do tell me, and allow me to offer my most sincere of apologies for—“

What? 

“Gale—“ 

“—ever making you feel uncomfortable or uneasy in any way, I would never want to jeopardize the friendship that I feel we have formed over the course of your time here—”

“Gale, hold on—“ 

“—if I’ve done something to potentially sour anything, just know it was never my intention—“ 

“Gale!” She raises her voice in a final attempt to catch the rambling wizard’s attention, crossing the space between them and placing her hands on his shoulders. 

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders tense and she can feel the way his body trembles slightly. 

“Relax, please. You haven’t done anything to make me uncomfortable. Ever.” She coos, rubbing circles with her thumb into his shoulder. 

A few days ago, a gesture like this would’ve made her entire being feel as though she were on fire— but after today, it felt right. After receiving such care and comfort from him, the least she felt she could do was to return it in kind. 

He stares at her incredulously, as if he simply just doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. 

“You don’t have to spare me, Elara. I saw the way you looked when you left the study. I never want to make you feel that way, ever again.” His face softens as he speaks, the pain of potentially slighting her in some way weighing heavily on his chest. 

She blinks a few times, then that gnawing guilt returns with even sharper teeth, maybe some claws too. She pinches her eyes shut and releases a long breath from her nose. 

“It wasn’t you. Truly. I just— there is a lot on my mind right now, and I don’t want to burden you with any of it. It’s okay, really.” 

It wasn’t a lie, at least not entirely. There was a lot on her mind— even if most of it was that of a certain brown eyed wizard who happened to be standing in her doorway, looking like that. 

A great portion of it was her family, though. How much she missed them all. Her uncle, she had begun to miss terribly. She wondered what antics he was up to, as his vague letters did little to quench her curiosity. She hoped he was safe, wherever he ended up or wherever he was heading to. 

She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her mother’s lap and tell her all about Waterdeep and her lovely tour guide and everything she’d done since she left Rivington. She wanted to hear her father go on and on about how he must meet this man that occupies his most precious and only daughter’s thoughts. She wanted to introduce him to them. They’d love him, she thinks.

No, she knows they would. 

His eyes find hers in the dim candlelight, searching them for something, anything that could answer at least one of the myriad of questions he wanted to but couldn’t find the nerve to ask. The pale blue moonlight filters in through the large window on the other side of the room, almost haloing her and basking her in an ethereal glow. 

“It’s not a burden if it’s taken on willingly,” he retorts. “I care for you, Elara. Allow me to lighten your load.” 

If the room had been any quieter, she swears the sound of her heart booming through the smaller space would be deafening. “It’s not important. You have many other things to concern yourself with, I don’t expect you to—”

“The only thing concerning me presently is—” he pauses. You, is what he wants to say, but can’t seem to wrench it out of himself. “What is important to you is important to me. I meant it when I told you that I would be here for you, no matter the situation.” 

How this man has not been wed yet, is beyond madness to her.

“Gale…” it comes out more as a plea, as she feels her resolve to maintain composure weakening bit by bit as the conversation continues. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. And really, she felt now really wasn’t a very opportune time for an orphan sob story. Not exactly the most pleasant thoughts to have to sleep on. She knew from experience. 

His shoulders sink. This was one of several attempts now that he’d made to break down the walls she had built up, and he was beginning to feel like the villain rather than the hero coming to rescue the trapped maiden from her tower. 

“I do apologize. I fear I’m overstepping once again. Here may be a good place to leave this conversation for now. I’ll let you rest.” He resigns, his words betraying the sullen expression he held. 

“Gale, no, I didn’t mean—” 

He holds his hand up to stop her. “It’s quite alright. Get some rest. Goodnight, Elara.” 

Before she can stop him, he turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind him. 

The room suddenly feels several degrees colder than it had prior to what had just occurred. She feels as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from her lungs and every bit of strength had been sapped from her body within a split second— emotional fortitude included, as tears that had been begging to be shed that she had been neglecting for longer than she could confidently say finally began to fall, slipping down her cheeks and wetting the collar of her night shirt. 

Her head falls back as she makes eye contact with the ceiling once again, gaze finding a large crack just above where she stood. It looked fresh, almost. Like it had occurred within the last day or so. 

She wondered if he noticed it while he stood in the doorway. 

She wondered if he was in his room, staring at the ceiling of his own bedroom, checking for cracks.

“Goodnight, Gale.” She whispers into the darkness of the night. 

tags: @goddess-bound @mirandpeglell @celestialowlbear 🩷 (thank u guys for ur love I hope u like this chapter!!!!)

this is part two of a series - ✧ (chapter 1)

[imgeekgirlfan]

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Pairings:  Astarion x Original Female Character(Named Tav)  [From Baldur's Gate 3]

Tag/Warnings : Canon Compliant, Post-Endgame, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Tragedy, Mentions of past abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, References to Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis : Astarion returned to the city of Baldur's Gate, following the final request of his beloved, who asked him to bury her next to his grave. As dawn approached, Astarion held the lifeless body of his love, reminiscing about the countless memories they shared together.

A/N : The story started when I came across this tweet: 'do you guys think your tavs/durges stayed with their love interest long term or not?'

I got the idea to tell the story of my Tav and her love interest, Astarion. What would happen to them after the end of Baldur's Gate 3? I've been thinking about it a lot and it's quite heartbreaking.

From these little headcanons, I developed this one-shot about them.

My Tav is a human bard with a noble background. So, I imagined her as the daughter of a noble Baldurian,which contrasts with Astarion's background. Their initial relationship was more of a adversaries before blossoming into love in the end.

Listening to the song "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Death Cab for Cutie gave me a lot of inspiration for this couple. (At first, I wanted to use the song "Take Me To Church" as the title, but it's too popular. I thought a song that many might not have heard of would be fitting for this tale.)

Read in Ao3 : here

"Jones," Astarion whispered, calling his beloved, but she didn't respond. 

Her eyes closed tightly, her body growing colder with each passing moment. 

Astarion pulled her closer, hoping his slight warmth might warm her. He knew it wouldn't help, and she would never wake to look into his eyes again.

Human lives are fleeting, from young maiden to old crone, from crone to spirit. 

Her entire life was a blink of an eye compared to his cursed immortality. 

Once, Astarion had both disdain and curiosity about this human. A race so fragile and feeble, never wielding a sword to harm anyone, raised in a noble family, spending half a comfortable lifetime in a grand mansion in Baldur’s Gate, surrounded by obedient servants bowing to her every whim.

He couldn't make sense of her. For a vampire like him who had struggled to survive amidst enemies and a cruel world for centuries. He was nothing but a bloodthirsty creature, a servant under a master's foot who got treated worse than a common slave, struggling to sustain his life with the taste of filthy rat blood that almost made him vomit.

Astarion envies her for an ideal life in the gilded cage he could only dream of. envied the short-lived human existence. While he had no right to die willingly if his evil master didn't want him to die,

And he wondered why she had fled her high-life in the capital city of Baldur’s Gate to suffer with them. why someone so inept at fighting would risk her life battling monsters, from goblins and evil undead to even gods, to aid them and help everyone unrelated to her.

He thought Jones was foolish, and he didn't like fools.

Ironically, eighty years later, he found himself shedding tears at her death.

"I wish to be buried beside your grave, Star." That was one of her last wishes before she breathed her last in his embrace. This led Astarion to make the singular decision to step out of the Underdark and return to Baldur’s Gate, the city where he once hated heavily, to fulfill the last wish of his beloved.

The black sky began to turn deep blue. Astarion knew he should hurry to bury Jones properly before the sunrise. As he contemplated, his eyes caught withered flowers left on the ground near his own grave marker. For a brief moment, Astarion reminisced about the memories he shared with her. He had once brought Jones to his own grave, recounting his life before turning into a vampire. and then visualizing a future where he wished to live with her,as his past had died over two centuries ago and she was the only future he desired.

Astarion remembered his overwhelming fear that Jones might refuse him. She was the highborn daughter of Baldur’s Gate's noble families. Why would she choose to endure the hardships of life with an elf vampire like him?

Yet his fear vanished instantly when he saw the soft smile on her smooth face. She placed flowers on his grave and embraced him, accepting his love wholeheartedly. 

That night was the night he died and was reborn in her embrace. Not as the enslaved Astarion, not as the villainous Astarion, but as Astarion the redeemed, never to be alone again because he would have her by his side forever.

But the words 'forever' don't really exist, especially for humans and vampires.

Still, Astarion couldn't help but secretly hope.

Sometimes, darker thoughts overshadow his mind, eclipsing all the goodness he has left. Astarion often secretly pondered that if he chose the path of power, performed an ancient ritual to sacrifice seven thousand souls to a devil, and transformed himself into a vampire ascendant, he would have enough strength to walk in the sunlight with her and enough power to turn her into a vampire like him. Then they could live together forever without the fear of death taking her away.

But it was Jones who restrained him then. She persuaded Astarion to see that these powers offered him nothing but the dark legacy of the Vampire Master, an inheritance of wickedness that would never end. She told him he could be better than Cazador, his former master, and he didn't have to continue killing others to sustain his existence anymore.

Astarion trusted her, though he couldn't deny feeling deeply regretful. And Jones sensed his feelings. She gently grasped his cold hands and earnestly vowed, "Star, I will find a way to cure you of vampirism, so you can walk under the sunlight with me again."

And she kept her promise. After successfully helping Baldur’s Gate city fend off the threats of the Mind Flayers and Nether Brain, she and him began a new adventure together. They journeyed across the entire continent of Faerûn, from Waterdeep to Athkatla, Neverwinter, Luskan, and even the mysterious realm of Feywild, all in pursuit of finding a cure for him.

Those times were special, building strong bonds and beautiful memories between them. They laughed together, danced together, fought together, and held each other close under vast skies and twinkling stars as witnesses.

Until Jones began to age and couldn’t continue the journey. That was when they both realized how little time they had left. And no matter how much time and effort they put in, there was no way to find a cure for him anymore.

Facing the harsh reality was incredibly difficult. Astarion had to hide his deep sorrow while he tried to persuade her to stop the adventure and live out her remaining days in the Underdark, the dark and sunless realm, the only place where he could be with her.

He knew what the near future held. Nothing would hurt as much as watching his beloved age continuously, waiting for her time to pass while he remained unchanged.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you as I promised. Please forgive me," she said during their time in Underdark. Her bright blue eyes, the very eyes he fell in love with, overflowed with guilt.

Astarion wanted her to know that he could never be angry or hate her.

The shovel still lay untouched on the ground, with no sign of being used anytime soon. While the vampire elf sat silently in front of his own grave marker, letting old memories flow through his mind once more,. Both his arms cradled her lifeless body as if she were still alive.

"My beloved Star, please continue to live on for me. I wish to see you happy for a long time," another of her last requests echoed in his mind. The gentle touch of her frail hand on his cheek still lingers in his heart to this day.

"Jones." Astarion whispers her name again. Tears, which he had not shed for a long time, now streamed down his pale face. "I can't do it," he murmured to her lifeless body. "How can I find happiness without you?"

A golden beam slowly crept in, chasing away the darkness from the vast sky. Yet Astarion's body remained unmoving, just like the eyes of the vampire, which refused to leave the withered face of his beloved for a second. He memorized every detail of her, keeping it in his memory as best as he could. She still looked as beautiful as ever in his eyes—always and forever.

"I wish the next life was real. I hope we'll meet again, live together, and build a family," Astarion whispered softly, planting a tender kiss on the edge of her lips. "Wait for me, darling. I'll follow you soon, no matter where you choose to go."

Finally, he tore his gaze away from her, looking up at the sky once more. For the first time in centuries, he had the chance to gaze at the nearing dawn with full eyes. As the sun peeked over the horizon, followed by the warm rays starting to seep through his skin, cracks began to form, turning his skin into tiny specks of dust.

Before his final consciousness faded, Astarion's thoughts remained vivid. 

This was the most beautiful dawn he had ever witnessed.

[anxious-scrambles]

No matter the circumstance, he couldn’t tear the thought of that erstwhile deity from his mind. The very first of his spawn, the one who dared escape his clutches the first chance he got, the ungrateful little wizard.

Gale stalked his every waking thought; he could hear his whispered mocking laughter in his ear when he draped himself in finery to step into the sun, heard his pedantic voice barking in his mind whenever he found himself making any sort of administrative or grammatical error… he could almost feel his breath against his neck whenever he came. No matter how far back in his mind he tried to push the wizard, he continued to tease at him, lurking just out of sight. Out of reach.

When Gale ascended to godhood he forgot the promise he made to serve the Vampire Lord. Astarion wants his spawn back.

I promised you toxic Bloodweave and toxic Bloodweave is what you get.

[thebrilliantretort]

The Devil and the Fool pt.1

˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙ ˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧

❈ Astarion x gn!afab!reader ❈

Masterlist

Summary: Y/n and several of their companions have a plan to interrogate some of Astarion’s siblings about what Cazador is planning. Unfortunately, things do not go as smoothly as anticipated.

Notes: !!!! Spoilers for Act3!!!!!! Bhaal cultist quest and Astarion quest, I say ‘gown’ in the story but I’m gonna link a suit here that I think would also fit with this scenario if gowns aren’t your thing, the gown I had in mind is linked in the story, this series was inspired by this drabble ❤️❤️

TW⚠️: pregnancy, mentions vomiting one time

WC: 3,410

Karlach and I laughed as we chatted, strolling through the lower city back to the Elfsong tavern. We had just picked up a gown from the Facemaker’s Boutique. Figaro was still feeling generous after we had saved him from a Bhaal cultist not too long ago. The gown was for a mission involving Astarion freeing himself from his master, Cazador. There was a kind of party or event happening which Astarion was sure that his spawn siblings would attend. More than a bit classier than Fraygo’s Flophouse where we had seen them earlier. They had immediately vanished into thin air as we approached, we assumed it was due to Shadowheart having equipped the Blood of Lathander. We all agreed that the best option now was to get into the party and have one of us play a decoy. Then, have one of the spawn “lure” the person back to Cazador’s lair or at least get them alone to interrogate. And the best person for this role had been voted to be me, seeing as I would be least likely to be recognized and/or loose my temper.

“Oh! Over there, you see that out house over there? Me and a few of my mates would wait for for some drunkard to go in a send a blast of fire through the door - watch ‘em run out with their pants around their ankles!” Karlach cackled, grabbing her stomach.

I slapped her arm as I laughed along as well. Humming as the laughter quieted down, suddenly our back and forth banter had turned into silence. The weight of the gown seemed so much heavier than before. Readjusting it in my arms, the crinkling of the covering and murmuring of civilians was the only thing breaking the silence. I could feel Karlach’s gaze on the side of my face for a moment before she looked back at the ground in front of her.

“Maybe… there’s another way, maybe someone else who could take your place?” She said softly, breaking the tense silence between us.

I smiled to myself. Karlach was always the sweetest, had her thoughts full and concentrated on others at all times.

“Karlach… we all know that this is the best and maybe only chance we’ll get to talk to them before the ritual.”

“I just… I think - I feel like you should tell him before going through with it.” Trying to speak carefully about the subject. I knew she disagreed with the way I was going about things with Astarion.

I had been feeling particularly ill the past couple weeks. At first, I thought nothing of it - we had been traveling and battling nonstop for who knows how long while Astarion had been drinking from me. That would make anyone feel unwell. But when the hunger, constant nausea, and vomiting began and most significantly missing my monthly bleeding I feared the worst. I went to Halsin to confirm, and he concuered that I was pregnant. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of fear and dread - I had so many more battles to fight, so much more to do. The world was far from safe, how am I supposed to bring a child into it? How am I suppose to keep the child safe while it grows inside me when I can’t even keep myself from harms way? At the same time, a small piece of myself was almost excited. I’ve never put too much thought into being a parent. Would I even be a good one? The real question was how was I supposed to tell Astarion any of this? I knew he wasn’t particularly fond of children. I wasn’t completely sure why I was keeping this from Astarion, my main excuse was not to distract him. But it was almost as if I subconsciously wanted to keep it a secret so I could hold onto the idea of having a family, and having one with Astarion.

I simply looked at Karlach with a knowing gaze. She knows how I feel, my thoughts on the matter. I talk to her more than anyone about these things. Karlach is someone that I feel at ease with when confiding in them. She shook her and changed the subject.

———————————————————————————

“You sure this looks right? That I look right *in* it?” I huffed, tugging and pulling at the cloth. It was probably the most expensive thing I’d ever worn, except for the armor that had been looted during our journey. I stared at my body in the full length mirror in front of me, frowning. I can’t even remember the last time I got dressed up like this, it was so foreign to see.

Astarion made the final adjustments to the back of the dress and then placed his palms upon my shoulders. Though he couldn’t see himself, I could tell he, too, was staring at my reflection.

“You look absolutely exquisite, my dear.” He sighed, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. I smiled and looked down as I smoothed out the fabric around my stomach. Painfully aware now more than ever of my predicament.

I did feel guilty for keeping this from him. I knew he could sense something was different, I’m not sure how - maybe it was my scent or maybe something different about my blood, maybe both. He had only asked me if I felt alright and things along those lines but there was no more inquiries beyond that. I know I worried him but I assured him I was okay and he took that whether he truly believed that or not.

I was subtly pulled out of my thoughts as I felt Astarion rest his chin on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him while he snuggled his face into the crook of my neck. Wrapping his arms around my waist and squeezing tightly.

“Are you… you’re sure that you want to do this, love? Surely we can find another way to -“

“I’m positive, Astarion,” I quickly interrupted and stiffened, staring back into the mirror, “we’ve talked about this.”

I loosened from his hold and turned to face him. Gently placing my hand on his cheek, trying to meet his eyes but they were closed. He leaned his cheek into my palm and held it there. I frowned, putting my other hand onto the opposite cheek and pulled him forward to kiss his forehead. I stayed with my lips there for several seconds, squeezing my eyes closed.

I knew this was terribly dangerous, we all did. Even more so to the ones who knew of my pregnancy. I knew how important this was to Astarion, obtaining this information in order to free himself (and possibly obtaining unimaginable power). I wanted to do this for him, more than anything. This could be the last chance to get something from the spawn. If this failed, we’d be heading into Cazador’s lair completely blind. Which wouldn’t keep us from assaulting the manor but luring the spawn seemed much less dangerous than attacking with nothing.

I released his face from my grasp and brought my hands back to my sides. Taking one more look in the mirror, I breathed in deeply.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be back in no time. We’ll have what we need and everything will be better than before.” I wasn’t sure how much of that was for Astarion, it felt as though I was trying to convince myself.

Astarion wouldn’t be present for the party, the spawn knew him and his scent. We couldn’t risk them fleeing once again. We determined a meeting place in which Astarion and the others would intercept my being lead to Cazador’s palace. Though I wouldn’t be completely alone, Gale and Minthara would keep an eye on me while blending in with the crowd.

I turned from my spot in front of Astarion and began preparing the final steps of our operation.

———————————————————————————

“Let’s go over the plan one last time.”Shadowheart said, sternly.

We had all gathered in the center of the floor we occupied at Elfsong. Minthara, Gale, and I in our best party clothes while Astarion, Karlach, Lae’Zel, and Shadowheart suited up in their armor and myriad of weapons.

“The party goers will entire separately, with Y/n last - giving enough time for the others to get settled in. The rest of us will spread out around the interception point. Never let your guard down and stay alert, that goes for everyone. Stealth is key - understood?”

Lae’zel rolled her eyes at Shadowheart’s commanding tone and Karlach began hopping from side to side, getting psyched up for the mission - I’m assuming. I smiled to myself as I felt a wave of warmth and comfort knowing my friends will be with me. As the leader of the group, I did my best to put on a brave face. To control my anxiety, never let my palms get sweaty, never let them see me worried. Although at this moment, it was getting more and more difficult to do. But the knowledge that I won’t be alone, I’ll be safe without armor and weapons, helped a little bit.

After we all affirmed our roles, we headed out towards our assigned positions.

———————————————————————————

The noise coming from the manor holding the party was probably keeping everyone within miles awake. Checking my clothes and hair quickly, I breathed in through my nose and out my mouth quickly. It was time to begin my part.

As I walked toward the entrance, a handsome half-elf opened the door with a warm smile. I offered a small smile and nod back to him as I stepped across the threshold into the foyer.

The house was absolutely beautiful, and bigger than any home I’d ever seen. As I entered I was greeted with an extravagant front room featuring two sets of swirling marble stair cases that sat beside each other. The walls, a cozy cream color, were decorated with various paintings and portraits. Antiqued golden sconces with flickering candles lined together and the smell of bergamot and pine wafted throughout the manor. Several small end tables and some longer were scattered around the area covered with antique vases and little Knick knacks, candle holders and umbras, and flowers whose color matched the color scheme of the room. On the left wall was another entrance to what I presumed to be a ball room. The double doors open with a large crowd of people inside, mixing and mingling. I briefly stopped to collect myself before putting on my “naive and helpless” persona.

As I entered, the chatter, crowdedness, and the lights were almost overwhelming. I shook it off and tried to get myself accustomed to my surroundings. I looked around as a strode past the many clamoring bodies, all beautifully dressed and even more beautifully looking. Eventually making my way to a particularly lavish fireplace. The opening was almost as tall as I was and surrounded with intricately carved wooden forest creatures. The fire inside calm, not too big but not small either. I watched the flames for a few seconds as I tried to ground myself. I didn’t want to chance looking around for Gale and Minthara amidst the other party goers and focused on looking lost and bored. Hoping that my obliviousness would attract the spawn.

Perhaps I was being a bit presumptuous that my looks alone would lure one of the spawn to me without me putting in much effort. A half-orc came around, holding a tray of some kind of alcohol in glass goblets. I made eye contact with the server and she approached, offering me a glass. I quickly accepted and grabbed a cup. A couple people had come up to me, propositioning me for a dance or more. I politely shooed them away and continued to wait while faking sips of my beverage. I was about to start walking around and try to mingle - act like I belong - when a young man approached. He was dressed just as Astarion was when we first met and scanned my body with red eyes. This was definitely one of the spawn. I tried to control my body language as to not give away how excited I was that the plan was coming along as planned. So close to what we needed.

“Why hello there, darling, what’s a beautiful thing like you doing all alone?” He smirked, he was definitely charismatic.

“Well, I have been expecting a friend but it seems as though they had other plans.” I sighed, staring into my cup as I twirled the liquid around.

“What a horrible mistake they’ve made, perhaps you’d like me to accompany you this evening? My name is Petras, and you, beautiful?” He said as he stepped closer. Gods, to think of how many people fell for this, and Petras was only one of seven.

I looked up to meet his crimson stare as he continued holding a smirk on his lips. Tilting my head to the side and pursing my lips, as if considering my options. I tapped my finger against the glass and looked the crowd over, pushing myself off the wooden carvings.

“I suppose… what do you have in mind, Petras?” I smiled, reaching to play with his outer shirt.

“There’s a party happening at the palace of Cazador Szarr tomorrow night, it will be much more spectacular than this drab little gathering.”

He scoffed, side-eyeing the decor as if all this was nothing.

“Tsk, I was hoping for something to occupy me this evening…” I pouted, fingers tracing the stitching of his clothing down to his abdomen.

He looked around again, this time as if searching for something in particular. As if what he was about to say was something secret. He leaned in closer, almost whispering in my ear, but far enough to still be able to look each other in the eyes.

“Perhaps we could have our own little party, tonight at my place. What do you say?”

“That’s more of what I had in mind.” I giggled, cringing at myself on the inside. Hells, I’m not sure how much longer I could keep up this act.

Petras grabbed my hand and began to lead me out of the crowd. I quickly set my glass down on one of the tables and prayed to any god that could hear me that Gale and Minthara could see me or was at least aware that I was leaving. He wrapped an arm around my waist after exiting the home. I continued acting, giggling as we chatted and playfully hitting his arm. After some time, I began to notice that the path we had taken was not the one we had anticipated. Trying to control my anxiety and remain calm I casually mentioned that I had never been in this part of the city before. I knew perfectly well where Cazador’s manor was and this was not a path to it.

“Oh, it’s just a shortcut. I find this part of the city beautiful at this time of night.” He sighed while smiling. Something was definitely wrong. The only thing lighting the area was the moon and star light that shone through the trees. The ground was mostly grass with dirt patches placed at random. The cracked and crumbling stone walls where covered in foliage, flora seems to dominate this place more than anything else. Rarely disturbed by any creatures besides woodland. My panic began to rise in the pit of my stomach. The only weapon I had on me was a stake I had hidden, strapped to my side. As I tried to come up with some kind of escape plan, he stopped.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” He sighed, back turned to face me - he knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

The walls too high to climb quickly without being grabbed and pulled down and there’s no way to sprint back the way we came without him catching up to me. Perhaps I could talk my way out of this, or buy some time for my companions to realize something had gone wrong.

“You’re cute, but I feel a bed would better suit tonight activities.” Trying to continue to act as a clueless victim, looking around and trying to think quickly of how to get out of this, get help.

Petras turned on his heel and took several, slow steps towards my direction, like a predator stalking its prey. He tilted his head as he stood mere inches from my face, he brought the back of his hand up to my cheek.

“No, I believe this to be perfect. Just relax, my love.” His knuckles caressed my cheek as he began stepping forward again. I cannot let him back me into where ever he was trying to get me right now. I tried concentrating as hard as I possibly could for any solution, any means of escape, any sign that we were not alone.

Then, my back was knocked into one of the walls. My heart beat racing, and I knew he could hear it. Petras licked his lips, pausing after breathing deeply into my neck. I carefully attempted to gain access to the stake I had hidden in the side of clothing. He began to pull away with a confused look on his face when I was able to free the weapon and point it at his chest.

“I know for a fact that you are most definitely not allowed to feast on me.” I stated, pushing the tip of the stake into his chest. He began to back away as fear suddenly took over his features.

“I thought I recognized that scent. So where is that spineless runt?” Petras spat.

“Watch your mouth, I just want you to answer some questions about the Black Mass and I’ll release you.” I pushed the stake’s tip further into his chest, causing him to grimace. Damn, I scrubbed as hard as could to get rid of Astarion’s scent. It seems like it worked for the most part, until now. A rustling of of dried foliage abruptly interrupted our discussion. I relaxed slightly thinking that my companions had found me.

“Petras, I believe you were told to leave. Now look what trouble you’ve gotten into, what would have happened if we hadn’t been here?” A man snapped, coldly. Two figures stepped out of the shadows into view. The man, human (or was human), was tall with long brown hair and a woman stood beside him with pink pink and white hair. Both of their eyes matched Petras’, more of Astarion’s siblings.

“They want to know about the ritual, and they wreak of Astarion.” he grunted, the stake still at his chest, as he nervously looked at his siblings.

“Astarion? He’s alive?” The woman questioned stepped forward with a doe-eyed look. “Leon, we have to find him.” She pleaded. Leon firmly shushed her as he questioned me.

“What do you know of the Black Mass?” He inquired, taking a few steps towards me. In response I gripped the stake tighter and further pressed it back into Petras’ chest. Leon immediately paused.

“I know that you definitely do not want it to happen. Not much else.” Hoping to trigger their intrigue in order to buy more time for an escape. Petras chuckled, “Is that what he told you? Selfish bastard.”

My head snapped towards him and applied enough pressure to pierce his skin. Blood began to bloom underneath his shirt as he sucked air harshly through his teeth.

“Please, please don’t hurt him!” The woman yelped.

“Dalyria, please, silence.” Leon quieted her again. Dalyria closed her mouth and hung her head in defeat.

“So, Astarion got an innocent to do his dirty work. We should take them to Master, I’m sure he’ll follow to save his pet.” Leon instructed to his siblings. As if on queue, Petras harshly pushed me back and ducked as I swung the stake towards his chest. As I stumbled backwards Leon grabbed me from behind, gripping the arm holding the stake so tightly I’d be surprised if it didn’t leave his finger prints printed onto my skin. Dalyria quickly ran up and yanked the stake from my hand and threw it as far away as she could.

A loud pang filled my ears as everything disappeared and a black smoke enveloped me.

[atrueneutral]

Just read the last chapter of HWBASK (I somehow missed that chapter 😅) and... I've got to ask...

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client insults Tav?

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client tries to flirt or make a pass at Tav and/or tries to include some funny business involving her as part of their contract with the devil?

What does/did Raphael do when a current/potential client does both?

“Color me not surprised to see the Hero of Baldur’s Gate here,” said the brute of a man who had come to the Devil’s Den seeking a deal - as anyone always ever did.

Since arriving a minute ago, full of swagger, he was pegged by Tav to be ugly, arrogant, and unpleasant.

“Is it true, hero? You’ll fuck a devil to save a person’s soul? How many fiends have you spread your legs for?”

Ah, and what he had for brawn was there to compensate for his lack of brains.

But, to answer his question, she’d spread her legs for two fiends to be exact. One of which she fucked on a regular basis - irregardless of a soul hanging in the balance.

The very fiend (who looked quite handsome as a human) stood not too far away from where she sat pretending to read her new favorite romance novel. Being a lawful fellow (though still evil in many regards), Raphael cooly leaned against the writing desk with no outward reaction to the salacious attack against her reputation - outward being the key word. She snuck a glance from over her book and could tell he was visualizing a future where the man’s soul was nothing more than a tasty meal.

“Are you deaf, hero?” asked the man.

“Speak to me, not to her - you are here for a devil’s deal, are you not?”

The man snorted in her direction before turning his attention to Raphael.

“Alright, devil. Let’s talk.”

—

“Then we have an accord?” Raphael oozed warmth - his steps slow in taking him from the desk to the man. “You are to procure a Bag of Devouring and personally deliver it to me in this very room - in three weeks time. In return for completion of this task, I will see to the end of your rival and his gang. If you are unable to deliver the item I seek within the allotted time, then there is the unfortunate matter of a price to be paid.” 

“My soul, is that it?” asked the brute, smiling with yellowed teeth.

“Why, yes - your soul would be a fine price,” responded Raphael, smiling with devilish charm.

Anticipation burned in his eyes.

The brute was not so brainless to accept on the spot; he mulled it over for about half a minute, but it was clear he predicted a favorable outcome.

“Agreed - and I think I’ve heard of this schtick.” The brute regarded Tav. “You’re gonna travel with me, yeah, sweetheart? Help me out?”

Rather than read (for the fifth time) the paragraph in which the protagonist and antagonist expressed their hatred for one another before kissing, Tav pondered on ugly, arrogant, and unpleasant souls and what they tasted like to fiends.

Something flavorful, she supposed, for behind his mask of congeniality, Raphael was gnawing at the bit for a bite.

Snap!

An infernal pairing of contract and quill appeared in front of the brute’s face - conveniently obstructing his view of her.

“All that’s left to do is sign,” Raphael said evenly.

The brute snatched the quill from the air with his meaty hand, pointed tip and ink was put to parchment, and the words blazed after a quick scrawl of a signature. Little time was given to the man to read anything (as if his tiny brain could understand Infernal in the first place) for the signed contract quickly disappeared in a plume of smoke and embers.

“Best of luck to you,” Raphael purred, allowing a sneer to eek through.

“I’ve had worse odds before,” the brute replied with a cocky shrug. “But, speaking of luck, how about it, sweetheart? How about you give the devil a good fucking when I leave? A good fuck for good luck - all for my dear, sweet soul.”

“Infiltrating Zhentil Keep for a Bag of Devouring…” Tav whistled as she flipped to the next page. “I remember doing something eerily similar not too long ago. Whether or not you make it out as I did… well…”

She pulled a face that said: unlikely.

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“I might be too busy fucking the devil - not for luck or for your soul, mind you.” For the first time, she met the brute’s stare - his arrogance was fraying into worry. “But because I enjoy it.”

“You’re obligated to do this with me!”

Tav laughed, “Says who or what? The rumors?”

“I put my soul on the line because of the guarantee!” The brute snarled, moving towards her in anger.

There was a flash and burst, and a large, pointed red wing fanned out to block the brute’s path. Tav was saddened that she could not witness the man’s reaction to seeing Raphael’s true form -  especially when her cambion looked so wonderfully antagonistic.

“A fool shall run a fool’s errand,” Raphael announced. “Run along, little fool.”

The brute snarled again in anger, and his bootsteps stormed for the door.

“Wait!” Tav shouted. The steps halted and Raphael refocused his glare on her. “If I were feeling up to a journey, when and where would I meet you? No guarantees, of course…”

An audible sound of relief.

“The bridge from the Lower City to Wyrm’s rock - dawn.”

After a moment, the door opened and then shut with a slam.

There was another flash and burst of fire as Raphael returned to his mortal disguise.

“Don’t look so peeved with me,” Tav scoffed. “I’m peeved with you! You know I hate Zhentil Keep…”

“You are under no obligation to go. It’s the fault of your own moral code - helping any and every mortal who steps into this den...”

“He’s not the first asshole and he won’t be the last.” Sighing, Tav closed her book and stuffed it into the pack that laid at her chair’s feet. “But, in all honesty, I won’t be too upset if you win this one either. The odds aren’t looking favorable - given your stipulation of three weeks.”

Raphael smirked. “A fair stipulation.”

“Says the devil,” came her droll reply. She stood while throwing her pack around her shoulder. “I think I’ll walk home tonight and will probably hit the hay as soon as I get back - early rise and all.”

“Mm, I’d join you on your stroll, but there are other matters I must attend to.”

Tav headed for the door. “Don’t take too long - I’ve unfortunately grown accustomed to you being in my bed.”

When she reached for the handle-

“Does it bother you?”

Raphael did not need to clarify his question; the remnants of his play, particularly the gossip that overran the city and followed the local hero wherever she went, had evolved into other less-than-savory rumors. Seeing the futility in denying the slander, Tav leaned into taking each blow on the chin and hoped that rumors of her good-deeds would one day overtake the bad.

“Some days more than others,” she answered truthfully.

Raphael blinked at her, something on his mind, but he merely nodded for the exit.

“Hurry home, dearest.”

“I will, under the fair stipulation that you hurry with your business - it’s cold out and I’ll want to wrap around my personal furnace.” She twisted the handle and opened the door. Pausing, Tav threw a last look his way. “I’m happy, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“And I’ll be happy - when this man’s soul is mine,” said her beloved antagonist.

To counter, the protagonist held her head heroically high. “Not a chance in Hell, you rat-fucking-bastard.”

At that, Tav left the Devil’s Den with a smile on her face.

—-

[theelderhazelnut]

Baldur’s Gate 3

Warning: none

Pairings: Ombra x Astarion

Characters: Ombra (my oc), Astarion, Gale

Summary: Ombra, a metal bender, is merely tolerating her new companions because she has other plans in her mind. One of these people disgust her to the core, but her depressed soul eventually find him “lovely”. Her busy, calculated mind can finally rest for one night. But does this vampire deserve her love truly?

Author’s note: Yay my first fic for BG3! I may post more drabbles like this untill I start posting the whole story of Ombra! I really love how these two work out together. Extroverted, charming boyfriend x introverted, also charming girlfriend.

Taglist: @vivilovespink @scentedcandleibex @darialovesstuff @confidentandgood @spacestephh @cyberneticsanguinaire @inafieldofdaisies @carlosoliveiraa @shegetsburned @bloody-arty-myths @zoetheneko @hi-thisiszira @admin-pipes @mitsuko-saito @malewifefirestar @krysta-cross @huepazu @cassietrn @breakfwest @nightbloodbix @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement @ninibear3000 @cyb3r-v4l @sinclxirx @gavincruikshanksexhusband @voidika @orbitinytheworld (writing taglist is here to be added/removed)

Out there around the camp, the fire was burning in my death; the death of my soul actually. The thick fabric of my tent was strong enough to shelter me for a while until I get rid of my stupid “companions”. Astarion, however, was the most stupid of them all.

I pushed away the fabric slightly to peeked at his tent which was a few meters away from mine. The gentle light of a lantern dimly lit his private place. He was awake; probably reading or taking notes. His voice rang in my ear.

“Even your spirit is of iron. I like that.”

I would be in a much more peaceful state of mind if he would shut his mouth for five minutes. But the more I explored in my heart, the more I realized that I would miss hearing his voice, his rich British accent, and the way his crimson eyes flamed with naughtiness.

I am always direct with my emotions. I either love someone to death, or I don’t even flinch if they are tortured in front of me. But my mind was beginning to be confused about him. At first, I loathed him just like how I felt about everybody else around me. He was no different. He was just a regular talkative, narcissistic, immature person who believed each and every one of his opinions were valuable.

But now, I couldn’t forget about the way his pale eyebrows rested, and his smile became true when he witnessed my monotone tone become a bit harsher when I was lol easily annoyed by others. When I pushed them away, and gave structres for our next move with a permanent glare on my face. And when I don’t seem to be bothered by the death of our companions.

If my calculations weren’t bteraying me, I would say that Astarion understood me, deeply. His guesses were seemingly right about the real person I was beneath these twenty layers of defense. This real person was as harsh as my outer facade, just even weirder.

I heard him stepping out of his tent, and I immediately closed the fabric door.

My heart raced in my chest.

I listened closely. His footsteps were approaching untill they stopped near the fire place.

“If it wasn’t for her analysis skills, I would not hesitate to throw her out of our way.” Gale whispered.

My lips curved donwards into a smirk.

“We owe her all this information we have gained untill now. Also, her presense is quite an entertainment for me.”

“Your opinion about her seems to be altering, Astarion.”

I didn’t hear him expressing anything as a response, istead he walked towards my tent. Quickly but silently, I crawled to my sheets, pretending to be asleep. A few moments passed after what seemed to be hours, untill I felt him sitting beside me. He didn’t say a single word, but his gaze weighed heavy on my figure.

“Are you asleep?” He murmured softly.

“…no… .” I replied with my eyes closed.

“So, may I?”

I opened my eyes to make sure he was not about to kiss me. Astarion gestured to my side.

“You may.” I crossed my arms, watching him getting comfortable next to me. He lied down on his side, and rested his head on his palm to hold it up.

“I couldn’t sleep either.” Slowly, he reached out his hand towards my face, and once he was not rejected, he shoved a wavy strand behind my ear. I wanted to grab his hand and keep it there, telling him how much I enjoyed this little act of affection. But instead I hid behind my stone face and kept glaring at him.

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, I was thinking about some certain things.” His voice trailed off as his eyes roamed down my body.

I kept looking at him, silently seeking explanation.

“Can I ask you something?” His grin faded away “Would you please don’t abandon us?” The blue cloud of sadness shadowed over his usually sunny gaze.

I raised my eyebrows in concern. “Who said I’m going to leave?”

“I am well aware that you are only tolerating this…” He searched for the right word. “…this companionship. I see that you are constantly looking forward to the tiniest chance to separate your way.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

“Stay with me, Atoosa. Please.”

My heart melted once Astarion called me by my real name instead of “Ombra”; a nickname so widely used by people that it had almost replaced the real one. It was just a simple Persian name untill he said it, and it was the most soothing lullaby.

And he just begged me to stay by his side not because he needed my iron bending powers and strategic mind, but because he’d miss me. Myself.

I frowned. “Why do you care?”

His eyes widened in shock. “We-well I am very sorry that I have found beauty in you! In your terrifying manners! In the way you don’t care about anything but your own goals! I am very sorry that I love you!”

My heart forgot to beat for a second. I did not trust my own ears. Astarion knew very well how to get what he wants by mere words. He knew how to fold those words in golden paper and sell it to you.

“Not all of your actions agree with that, Astarion. I’m not here to play your game.”

Suddenly, a large hand grabbed my jaw firmly, and forced me to look at him straight into the eyes. They were burning with anger and desperation.

“How many more days do I have to claw at any chances to save you from danger? How much more do I have to watch you from afar? How many nights do I have to stay wide awake horrified that you might leave us tomorrow? We two resemble more than you think.” Astarion closed his eyes and sighed deeply, loosening his grip around my jaw. “My apologies, darling.” He kissed where his fingers were pressed to although I did not feel any pain.

I leaned in and attached my lips to his. They were soft and cold. My heart beat blasted in my head as he kissed me back. The warmth of his mouth dropped on the dry skin of mine. Perhaps this time it was better to trust my heart, and let it rule over my exhausted brain. He was the angel to sew the bloodied feathers of my broken wings. He was the one on whose shoulders I could lean my head and sigh all my pain out without scaring him away.

I loved him.

“How can I just forget about you and run off?” I whispered.

Astarion chuckled, magnetising even more blood to my cheeks. “Ah, I knew you had a heart somewhere deep in your chest.”

I smiled. Astarion was the ray of sunshine through the thick clouds gaurding my heart.

All of a sudden, life was saturated with colors. I found joy in it.

For the first time in a long while, Astarion reminded me what happiness felt like.

[teamdilf]

7. silent fury

Petra is an obnoxiously even-keeled person, Astarion thinks. She doesn’t shout. Doesn’t generally get angry. He’s never seen anything close to silent fury on her face.

At one point, early on, he decides the woman is far too simple to be capable of anger. Now, he thinks better of her, recognizing that her diplomacy and patience in the face of all the nonsense they’ve endured is something resembling miraculous. Irritating, but miraculous.

What he’d give to see her lose her temper, just once. He expects it would be glorious; all flurries of ice and blood spatter every which way.

The stench of death and the stale sweat of 7,000 damned souls stings his nostrils when Cazador springs his trap, locking him into the ritual. He shouts for Petra to rescue him and she stares at him, her gaze burning as bright as the sun; her hand gripping her staff so tightly she could turn stone to diamond.

Ah. That would be what silent fury looks like on her face.

[fatale-distraction]

I am pleased to regret to inform you all that I have joined the legion of spiderfuckers

This is Qilué (Key-lew-ay) and she can and WILL MAKE HIM WORSE FIX HIM

Here’s an incomplete unedited excerpt from some writing I did today for them.

~~~~

"Can you remove Lolth's influence from one of her creatures?" The priestess drew herself up to her full height. "Of course we can, child. It is one of Eilistrae'e's greatest joys and blessings to relieve the oppressed of that dark mantle." "Save your flowery language. This one might be a bit more of a challenge than you anticipate," she warned. "Astarion, would you...?" "Oh, gladly," he smirked. "I can't wait to see the looks on your faces," he said in a loud aside to the clerics clustered nearby, who scoffed and rolled their eyes and muttered amongst themselves. "I'm certain we're up to the task, my dear," the priestess condescended gently. "We--" The room fell entirely silent as the sound of long, sharp talons clacked and scraped against the marble floors. Confused and wary glances were exchanged, and hands moved in the quick drow sign language. Astarion shouldered the door open and stood aside with a flourish to permit Kar'niss to claw his way into the temple. A long cloak of indistinguishable color covered his head and body, but it was impossible to hide the eight massive, spiked arachnid legs or the bulbous abdomen and armored thorax they supported. Silence continued as he settled himself behind Qilué and cast a curious glance around, his secondary eyes blinking out of sync. An acolyte near the effigy in the back of the temple let a copper offering plate slip from his fingers. It crashed to the floor and rolled noisily across the room. Kar'niss' seven eyes followed its path with vague interest. The painfully long journey that culiminated in an agonizing clatter as it took its time settling, stretching on and on until at last Astarion huffed in exasperation and stomped on it to silence the tinny metal cacophony. After another beat a cleric passed dead out and hit the floor with a heavy thud. The priestess was all but gaping, her eyes wide.

"That's a drider," she wheezed. "Yes, most of us have reached that conclusion," snipped Astarion. "His name is Kar'niss," Qilué bit out. "Can you do it?" She placed a loving hand on Kar'niss' pale arm. His head slowly turned toward her, every eye unblinking and focused tenderly on her presence. The priestess flicked her gaze between the two and swallowed. She pushed her sleeves up and fixed a game expression on her face. "We can certainly try," she said, a slight tremble in her throat belying her confidence. "I've never done it before, nor have I heard of it being performed, but Eilistrae'e’s mercy is vast...I can't undo what has already been done," she added softly after a pause. "My powers cannot reform him into the man he once was, but it may be possible to at least free him of that which binds him to the Spider Queen." "That's all I can ask for," Qilué replied, not removing her gaze from his. The urge to kiss him was powerful, but they already had one unconcious drow in the room. Kissing a drider might take several more down, and they needed all the help they could get. Kar'niss, unfortunately had other ideas and bent to nuzzle at her nape, that affectionate purr rumbling in his throat, his arms and two legs circling her waist to draw her close. "Not now, Kar'niss," she hissed, pushing feebly back at him. That only caused him to begin dragging his teeth down her neck, his hands cupping at her waist and hips as two more legs surrounded her. Astarion burst out laughing as another cleric fainted and Qilué pushed back harder, scolding the drider three times her size. The priestess mopped her brow. "Yes, well," she cleared her throat. "That's...quite interesting. I...need a moment--WE need a moment, to prepare, that is." "You mean recover," guffawed Astarion as Qilué finally won her struggle against the over-affectionate drider, who hissed moodily and mumbled something violent under his breath.