#lae'zel is getting tired of waiting

[druizard]

A quick dip in Raphael's hot tub after giving Haarlep the beat down of a lifetime.

Bonus:

His face when you ask him if he wants to come back here and fuck cuddle after we kill Raphael.

[oops-all-concrete]

I'm back with more BG3 COMPANION REACTIONS!

This time; Companions see Tav (yours/you) getting flirted with and being too shy/stunned to turn the person down and step in for them. As usual, the romance is only as implied as you would like! These can be read as platonic (but I'm happy to write romance specific posts if you lovelies would like)

Lae'zel -

The concept of flirting tires her. Why make eyes and small touches and idle chatter that eludes to a 'something else' if you can just get to the 'something else- immediately? Assuming both parties are interested of course. Unlike now, where Tav is failing miserably at saying no- because they weren't asked "May I taste your flesh and you taste mine in return?" With a roll of the eyes and a calculated stalk, Lae'zel makes her way over to Tav and takes them by the wrist, dragging them away. If she's stopped, she glares and speaks sharp: "Keep your filth to yourself. If they wanted what your company could achieve, they'd roll around in the mud with an actual pig."

Shadowheart -

Wyll -

She watches from afar with some amusement for a time. But- watching them stay seated several times when the "newfound company" kept getting up and seeming eager to leave- she was happy to put her wine down for such an occasion. "Pardon me, but myself and that one have somewhere to be tonight." She says, hooking her arm in Tavs. If pressed, she'll elaborate. "Well, we travel with a Githyanki warrior, the Blade Of Frontiers, a chosen of Mystra, and a cleric of Shar who's had to put down her wine to come over here and apparently repeat herself." She smiles innocently, though her voice is piercing enough to send the stranger walking backwards with their hands up.

He waits with stepping in, giving Tav the agency to say yes or no on their own accord, but as the stranger starts getting a little too familiar, he can't sit still. "Excuse me, I'm afraid my friend here isn't available this evening" He says, friendly but firm. Of course he's challenged- too nice about it- so he stops being nice. "I should have been more clear-" he starts, placing a hand on their shoulder- watching them become more afraid with the distinct crackle and glow of eldritch energy. "You're either leaving alone- or with me. In a bag." He says again, voice darker than usual. The stranger gets the message and Wyll watches them like a hawk out of the building. "Apologies Tav, I shouldn't have been so harsh. I just have a special distaste for people like that."

Karlach -

This woman jumps in the second Tav shakes their head. "Woah, woah, woah!?" She yells from the distance she is, a lot of the tavern pausing their conversations and looking her way. "Yeah, that's enough of that. If they wanted you as bad as you think, they'd have left with you already, yeah? Hands and unfortunate looking face to yourself" She says, cheeky smile on her face, but her hands itching to swing. Of course the person is embarrassed, especially when some giggles start coming in from the crowd, possibly Tav too, but Karlach knows they're safe with the entire tavern as witness. "Let's get outta here, Tav. There's more drinks and less weirdos down the street" She smiles smugly.

Gale -

He's quite socially eloquent when he wants to be, but knows how to be tactically rude as well. The minute Tav starts shuffling subtly closer to him to get away from this other person, he's inserting himself in the conversation. "Oh, you've got art at your home? I've been meaning to talk to another art fanatic, I've quite a few pieces I'd love to discuss back in my tower in waterdeep filled with wonderful architecture, sculpture, Baroque- Oh! Are you familiar with Oskar Fevras? I commissioned him personally a while ago-" he knows he's hard to talk over, and he takes full advantage. The minute the person tries to talk to Tav- Gale immediately gives them an out. "Oh! I just remembered- Tav my good friend! I believe I've left a ring in the bathroom on the sink while washing my hands" Gale talks fast, allowing Tav all the time needed to leave.

Astarion -

Oh this man is an actor. A few times he catches eyes with Tav- notably uncomfortable, and he rolls his red eyes. He disappears for a moment, but before Tav can think, he's throwing himself between Tav and the stranger. "Darling- This is where you've been??" He says, and you can hear the offence in his voice. Several heads turn. Bar staff is concerned. Oh boy. "I thought you said you'd quit drinking?? And here you are while I'm at home waiting! Look how late it is!" It's like, 4PM, and it makes the stranger frown, but Astarion is yelling again before he can be stopped. "And who are you?? Stealing my lover away like a bandit!" He throws his arms around and sounds on the verge of (fake) tears. Of course the stranger is out of there asap, Astarion taking their seat and drink, making himself at home. He smirks at them like a little shit

Halsin -

As polite and friendly as Halsin is, he can look rather intimidating when he wants. He's huge and he knows it, and while he doesn't like doing it, he will use it to his advantage. The minute he picks up on Tavs discomfort, he's a shadow over the pair. The stranger just has a look up at the druid and that has all the effect needed. "Apologies, I'm afraid you're in my seat. My friend was waiting for me" He smiles, arms crossed in front of him, a mountainous man. If they don't move immediately, he leans down to the strangers height, because of course he's much taller. "Don't worry about paying for your drink, I'd much rather pay for that myself than a bloody floor." He says, voice even and friendly, but a vein bulging out of his forehead.

Hope you've you've enjoyed! Who are you looking to for help in this situation? (I take requests, feel free to ask!♡)

[thatfreshi]

Always (Uni AU P. 16)

Thank you all for patiently waiting :)

tw - mentions of abuse, grooming

Your eyes flutter open slowly, unsure of exactly where you are. When you move your head, you feel the bone in Astarion's shoulder, and remember the night prior. When you realize you indeed were asleep on him, you jerk back up.

"What time is it?"

"Almost six. You must've been tired."

He puts his phone down and sits his head on his knees.

"You alright?"

"Just not looking forward to today. Twelve-hour day, nine to nine, no breaks."

"Sounds horrible."

"It does, doesn't it? And I haven't slept in days either."

He gets out of bed reluctantly and goes to the closet, almost tripping over nothing.

"You could probably spare some time to lay down a little longer."

"No, sadly I can't. The location is an hour away, I still have to get ready, and I have to pick up some things on the way. All of that and maybe find time to eat something."

He methodically looks through the many fabrics, finding a silk dress shirt. Thoughtlessly, Astarion throws off the sweater from yesterday, revealing what appears to be many scars across his back.

"Holy shit."

You don't mean for the words to stumble out the way they do, but it's not often you see someone's skin decorated in old wounds.

"Right, forgot I hadn't told you about all of those. Though to be honest, I've never seen them."

He quickly puts on his newly chosen shirt, fiddling with the buttons on the sleeves.

"Are they-"

"From Cazador? Of course."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he do it?"

He stops in his tracks, dumbfounded once again by you and your questions.

"I mean, there's always plenty of reasons to him. Misstep on the catwalk, look the wrong way in a photo, make him look bad in front of someone else in the industry. He does his punishments in private obviously, but you always know when you're due for one. Always."

Light steps make their way to the kitchen to get some coffee. You follow, silently.

"Sorry. I know I have more of a stomach for this kind of thing than you do."

"You shouldn't have the stomach for it at all."

"You think I don't know that?"

He turns to meet your eyes, and then sighs, leaning against the counter.

"Really, I am sorry. I'm just very irritable right now."

"Anything I can do?'

"No, I think I just need to be by myself, for the little time I have. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

He perks up at that.

"Why?"

"I mean, none of this is your fault. No need to apologize about things out of your control. Besides, I ask about all of it anyways. If you need alone time, you need alone time."

He's so used to 'sorry's, even if they aren't always genuine. Sorry when he's at Cazador's whim, sorry to people he's looped into horrific schemes, sorry any time he fucks up. Most recently, he's so incredibly apologetic to you, the way he's fallen for you, the way he can't bring himself to leave you alone, the way you always ask about the worst of it and he almost always shares. That look in your eyes when you see him hurt, he's been trying to avoid it, because it makes him feel monstrous.

"Anyways, I hope it's not all that bad today. If you need something, let me know, okay?"

You grab all your things from the night before, and make your way towards the door.

"Okay. Thank you Tav."

You smile.

"Of course Aster, anything for you, any time, anywhere. Always."

He almost says something when you walk out the door, but simply has his mouth agape, watching you walk away after saying probably the nicest thing he's heard in years.

When you make your way back to your dorm room, you hear shouting from inside, which you can only assume is Shadow and Lae arguing again. Then, when you walk in, you realize it's actually Gale's voice going back and forth with your moody roommate. Lae'zel seems to be absent from the dorm.

"Gale, you can't be fucking serious. You're sleeping with a professor? Not just any professor, but Mystra? Really? Are you that fucking stupid?"

"We are not just sleeping together, it's a real relationship. We have something special Shadowheart, not that you would particularly understand that."

"No, no you don't have something special with her, she's using you. You work for her, she's your teacher! She can decide your entire academic future on a whim!"

"No one better to fall in love with then, right?"

"Oh, fall in love? You, you are not in love with her, and she is certainly not in love with you. She's using you and your naivety Gale."

You hear her voice crack at this point, the concern for her best friend seeping through.

"Oh, so I'm naive now? Great to know you think so highly of me Shadow. You were begging me to tell you, I thought you'd be happy for me!"

"I'm not listening to this. When you want to have a real conversation, and not just make me feel like I'm crazy for worrying about you, come and find me."

Her door slams, and she storms past you in the living space, rushing out of the dorm. Gale slowly makes his way out of her room, not expecting you to be waiting.

"And now you know too, wonderful. Are you also going to call me insane for being in love, or are you capable of being reasonable?"

No words come to mind. Instead of sitting around waiting for a response, he walks right past you, off to brood in his room alone. You decide to try and find your roommate, just to make sure she's alright, and possibly get the rest of the story. Despite your efforts, you find none of your strange friends. It's as if campus has been entirely deserted. With the new chill in the air as Fall becomes even more intense, you find yourself feeling lonely, and even sad. So, you do what any other reasonable college student would, and you go grab a coffee and throw yourself into some assignments.

Essays, discussion boards, projects, powerpoints, they all sort of just blur together. Word counts become meaningless, rubrics are like unspeakable languages, emails are a life-sucking endless void of nothing. You close your laptop and stare at the ceiling, wondering why you're even sad to begin with, why all of this seems like treacherous work. Your mind floats back to Astarion, as it often does. Perhaps he was the cause of your melancholy, him and all the scars you had seen that morning. But now it's hours later, close to nightfall, and you barely have anything to show for it.

That's when Karlach and Gale show up, which helps you snap out of the mood a little bit.

"She'll come around Gale! I may not get it, but hey, we all just gotta do our own thing."

The two of them sit at your lonely little table, and Gale sighs.

"Well Tav, how's the rest of the day been?"

"Uneventful. Sad. Boring."

Gale nods in agreement.

"Oh cheer up you two! There's still time left in the night, things can get better!"

You can't help but crack a smile.

"You know what Karlach? You're right, and just for that, I'm going to get us all a little treat."

The two of them insist that you shouldn't, but you're already walking off to the coffee bar that's going to close soon. You buy a couple of stupid little candies, just to make sure everyone will have something they enjoy. You thank the barista and walk back to the table. On the way, you feel at your pocket for your phone, but it's not there.

"Must've left it at the table."

And you were right, because when you look back up Karlach is receiving a call on your phone. You walk over to try and figure out who she possibly could've answered, mouthing a question to her. She tells you to shush, her eyes far more serious than normal.

"What do you mean he's in the hospital?"

Her voice cracks when she asks, and without thinking you snatch your phone out of her hands.

[grappel-writes]

Fuck it: how the BG3 companions would give a massage Gale: Have no fear, a man with more than the amateur's understanding of anatomy is here. He's chatty the entire time, explaining that your lower back is sore because it's your hamstrings that are actually tight, you see. Hands on his hips, he waits expectantly for you to lay down for him, on your stomach. How else is he supposed to get to both problem areas? Arms under your head as a pillow, you take your time getting adjusted. He promises to be a perfect gentleman and never venture too far where he's not invited. He follows the flows of muscle, identifying where they just won't let go after a full day of hauling around a pack and setting up camp. With only as much pressure as you can handle before it's painful, he quickly identifies where the worst of it is and focuses there. Little warm wisps of weave work into weary muscles and aid clever hands. All the while you're letting yourself be talked away from the feeling, somehow lost in a story about how he was once able to identify a man's limp was from a run in with a Naga. Before you know it, he's sitting back on his heels, looking rather proud of himself, and you feel... great, actually. That worked wonders and you hardly even felt it happening. Of course he knows it works, and of course he'd be happy to do it again any time. Lae'zel: You've complained of your tension headache one too many times, and she's tired of hearing it. "Sit." You're commanded, and she nods to the spot on the ground in front of her log stool. Before you can respond over eagerly to kneel in front of her or look at her in disbelief that she would request that of you, she explains you're to face away from her, hair pulled away from your neck. When you do as told, almost immediately there's a pointy elbow in your trapezius. You wince, and she hisses at you to be still. Through a dull ache, eventually, it loosens and you're able to compose yourself. Until she repeats it on the other side. Before you can thank her, she continues up the back of your neck with hard, insistent presses to the base of your skull and back down again. It's easy to imagine her intense look as she focuses at the task at hand. Working you as if you're just another blade to be sharpened. Now, far more easy than her near bruising touch from earlier, she presses behind your jaw and against your temple, and like magic, the headache evaporates. "There. Better? Now I don't have to hear your incessant crying." Karlach: A sympathetic look and an eagar invitation to sit next to her, and she pulls your leg up and into your lap. You lean back on her scattered pillows when she pulls you closer. She's no stranger to days long marches, putting one foot in front of the other even when you're beyond the point of collapse. Learned how to recover after them, too. Large, warm hands squeeze over the entirety of your calf and you drop your head back with a laugh. It aches, but in a good way,and you have no idea how to respond to the sensation other than to laugh. She laughs at you too, and keeps at it, big squeezes over the widest part of your muscle that make you jump and melt and laugh and wince every time. Down to the ankle, up to the knee, there's no technique or consideration for how the muscles work, just large, strong squeezes that force the tired away. It's invigorating, it's painful, it's wonderful. She grasps the top of your thighs, right above the knee, and tells you to punch her if she gets to comfortable. But laying flat on your back, tingling and numb legs elevated onto her lap, under her warm and unshaking hold, you couldn't imagine ever wanting this to end. Part: 1/2

[littlejuicebox]

I just want to stay in that lavender haze.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character/Ranger AKA AstarionxWren Rating/Warnings: PG maybe 13?/ Act 1 Spoilers / Nudity / Sexual Tension / Gore / Angst / Anxiety / Cursing / Lae'zel being kind of a butthole Chapter number: Nine Word count: 3.9K Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "Lavender Haze" - Taylor Swift Notes: I know only a few people read this series religiously but thank you! Wren and Astarion are my little lovely goobers and I'm glad at least one person loves them as much as I do. And I know my other work gets more attention, but this is my favorite storyline and I plan to continue writing it. That being said, if you do actually enjoy their story… I truly appreciate the comments on this fic and that’s what inspires me to keep writing them even though they don’t get as much traffic.

-----

After terminating the last few goblins, everyone recollected themselves outside of the dilapidated temple. A few healing potions were drunk, a couple of incantations were murmured and then the group turned to Wren with an expectant look, waiting for her next directive.

The half-elf woman never actually wanted to be a leader. But more than once, she’d had the damned role thrust upon her. It was becoming annoyingly, and unfortunately, apparent that this time would be no different. What was it about her that made everyone trust her judgement; why did they let her make the calls? Hadn’t Shadowheart been doing a fine job… couldn’t she just… keep doing it?

The tired little bird sighed, running her bloodied, callused hands through a mess of gut-splattered brunette hair as she looked towards the sky, quickly gauging the time. It was early evening by now. The last few rays of sunlight were glimmering upon the horizon as that soft blend of rose and orange began to melt into a deeper, star-speckled blue. The merry band of misfits had to accomplish two things at once by nightfall… so unfortunately, they would have to split up.

Wren rubbed at the jagged lightning bolt burns sneaking out from underneath her bracers; it hurt like hells. Her eyes glossed over the group as she took a deep, exhausted breath, and then muttered, “Well... I’m sure Halsin needs to get to Emerald Grove as soon as possible. Some of us should go with him and the others should swing by the bog to pack up camp and bring it all back to the Grove. We'll have to head out from there once we've all had some time to recover. Astarion and I will go with Halsin, the rest of you can pack up camp and then meet up with us.”

Lae’zel made it clear she disapproved of this call with a hissed, “Tchk! Why do we have to do all the grunt work, while you and your favorite vampire princess get the easier route.”

Astarion almost leapt forward to snap at insufferable woman, quite displeased with being called a princess. Before he could, Wren’s mouth hardened into a thin line at the challenge, and she quickly stepped closer to the Githyanki, tone dropped into an irritated hiss.

“You’ve been given more people than we have, Lae’zel. The Grove needed Halsin back yesterday, and Astarion is skilled at both downing and evading enemies… whatever we may happen to need along the way. The Archdruid can surely handle himself. As for the rest of you… Well, sorry to be the one to say it and to burst your little bubbles, but none of you aren’t quite as versatile as the two of us, and you all need one another to cover your weak spots. It isn't favoritism, it's pragmatism.

And as for me? I had my brain invaded and nearly fell to my death today… so no, I’m not interested in packing up camp and playing inventory manager right now. If that’s such a problem for you, Lae'zel, and you’re questioning my judgement, then leave my shit there for all I care. I have all I need in my pack... Or should I remind you, I'm not the one that insists on hauling a stone wheel all around Faerun when a simple whetstone would suffice?"

Wren and Lae'zel were roughly the same height; she stood nose to nose with the fighter, her two-toned eyes boring into angry reptilian ones. Gods, Wren was growing so tired of this. If no one else wanted to be the one to make the calls, then why was there always someone questioning her judgement?

“Oi, no worries, mate! I’ll take care of yours and Fangs’ stuff.” Karlach cut in, stepping between the two women, quick to try and ease the group tension. “Go on and we’ll meet you — the Grove has to be in an absolute state by now, what with Kagha and all her antics.”

Lae'zel spat at the ground and then spun away from Wren, and the two groups went their separate ways in silence.

-----

The short journey to Emerald Grove was a mostly quiet one. Astarion felt too mentally worn from all the revelations of the day to play the loquacious, flirtatious rake. Wren, on the other hand, felt absolutely shredded around the edges of both her psyche and her body.

The Druid and the ranger had a brief conversation about her father, but it soon became clear it wasn’t a subject Wren wanted to discuss for too long. She would trail off or become distracted during the conversation, her mind entirely elsewhere. Halsin graciously took the hint and let silence fall among the trio, chalking everything up to the exhaustion of such a tedious and gore filled day.

At the gates of Emerald Grove, many of the tieflings and a few of the druids welcomed the Archdruid with a chorus of ecstatic cheers. All three beings were ushered in with a smattering of hugs, thanks, and congratulations, which Wren numbly accepted and Astarion willingly played into. Halsin soon interrupted the small welcoming party and rushed to interrupt the ritual of thorns, unleashing a scary and very bear-like chastisement to all the participants. His thundering voice drew the attention of everyone in the grove, and Wren took the opportunity to quickly peel away from the scene.

Astarion’s eyes followed Wren as she headed towards where they’d rescued that Tiefling kid from the Harpies weeks ago. This was his chance; the other campmates weren’t around to stick their noses into his business. The vampire thought for a moment that he might try and use his body to lure information from her like a Harpy used their voice to lure tiefling children… and he quickly made his peace with that possibility. Whatever the method, the rogue had to act now, without the risk of outside interruptions. He had to pry some information out of Wren tonight.

The pale elf quickly trailed down the remaining stone steps while the other druids had their heads bowed, listening to Halsin's booming lecture. Silent steps led him around the curved pathway, down to the water bank. He thought he’d see Wren rinsing her hands and face, ridding them of filth or taking a small moment of silence to stargaze or smoke from that pilfered pipe. He truly didn’t expect to see a panicked little bird, tearing wildly her own armor, trying to rip it off. He stared dumbly at the wide-eyed and panting ranger, watching as she appeared to be in the middle of a battle with… well, herself.

Wren’s eyes snapped to Astarion, where he was frozen mid step, scarlet eyes assessing her hysterical movements. Suddenly, she called out in something between a strangled scream and a sob, shaking hands now pulling desperately at her chest plate, “Take it off! Take it off! Please!”

She fell to her knees, half in the sand, half in the water. Her hands ripped at the leather straps of her armor as she heaved. She sounded as if the weight of her armor were crushing her; she sounded as if she couldn't breathe.

Of course, she could breathe… she was speaking, after all. Astarion didn’t know what else to do but answer her pleading voice. So he moved forward, deft hands quickly unsnapping buckles and ripping leather pauldrons from the ranger’s shoulders. She gasped in relief, and without a word, nimble fingers moved down to snap off her chest plate and then quickly loosened the laces of her bracers.

His brow furrowed as he watched Wren’s face, still caked in goblin guts, with thin rivulets of tears streaming from her two-toned eyes. She clumsily slid her bracers off and threw them down into the sand. Wren was still heaving as she sank down into the earth and then suddenly, she was sobbing, her entire body shaking with the force of her cries.

Gods. This absolutely hadn’t been the plan; Astarion was, once again, totally out of his depth here. How did he keep getting caught in these ridiculous situations with her? None of this ever ran on any script he'd ever prepared for himself.

The rogue ran a stressed hand through his hair before he took a deep breath and kneeled beside her, placing his cold hands on either of her shoulders. “Darling, listen to me! Shut up, right now. Stop this instant or else the entire grove is going to be here staring at you in a few minutes and unless I’m horribly mistaken, you don’t want that. Wren, come on, that's enough!”

The ranger wasn’t listening; to be fair, Astarion couldn’t be sure she heard him in her current state. She was still crying -- well, wailing, really -- and the look in her eyes seemed a million miles away. He recognized that look, that feeling. It made his gut churn. The vampire began to panic; she needed to quiet down before this all became an even bigger spectacle, or worse, someone accused him of causing her pain.

“Darling! Wren! For gods sakes—“ The rogue snapped his eyes shut and plunged forward in a last-ditch effort. He smashed his always-cold lips into her always-warm ones, swallowing her insufferable cries, digging so tightly into her shoulders as if he were hoping to pull her out of her own mind with brute force.

They stayed frozen like this for several beats; time almost felt like it ground to a halt. Astarion could hear the half-elf woman’s heart thudding erratically in her chest and then, miraculously, slow itself to a steadier thrum. The vampire opened his eyes and pulled away to see the little bird staring dumbly at him, her perpetually berry-stained lips swollen from the crushing force of his mouth on hers. Wren blinked rapidly, but remained silent, before carefully lifting her hand out of the water and brushing it against her own lips.

“Apologies, darling, but I didn’t know what else to do. Now let’s get cleaned up and then we can chat about whatever is going on in that pretty but absolutely twisted head of yours.” Astarion murmured, quite ruffled, but still lifting himself to his feet and then holding out a hand to help the little bird up, as well.

The half-elf woman had apparently fallen selectively mute, but she nodded her head and followed the vampire as he dragged her back toward the grove circle.

He was still mad at her. Furious, really. He didn’t have all the words to explain why, but he felt she’d somehow been misleading or hiding things from him all along. But then again, hadn’t he been doing the same in so many ways? If he weren't outright lying, which he definitely had more than once, then wasn't he also concealing aspects of himself… just like she had? But somehow, despite the clear hypocrisy Astarion was aware of and chose to ignore, it still felt like a betrayal to him. And yet, even though she absolutely infuriated him… the way she looked in her panic plucked at his heartstrings and compelled him, beyond his better judgement, to comfort her.

Gods this was supposed to be easy. A nice, simple plan. But it grew increasingly complicated by the minute.

-----

Halsin kindly allowed Astarion and Wren access to his bedchamber. The bear of a man often preferred to bathe in the natural water source on the edge of the Grove, but he conveniently kept a tub for soaking within his personal chambers, more for his own rare moments of enjoyment.

“Thank the gods that the druid isn’t totally removed from society.” Astarion mumbled, after Halsin helped to fill the massive wooden tub with heated water and then politely saw himself out. He was about to have a lengthy conversation with Kagha… surely, they would hear the results later.

Wren hadn't uttered a single word, but she watched as the vampire moved around her, plucking jars from the shelf by the tub and sniffing them. Finally, he settled on one, and poured some of the milky contents into the tub, causing the water inside to turn a clouded haze of pale purple. Then, he spun to the little bird and clapped his hands in his signature, impatient chop-chop. “Well, come on then, darling. In you go."

Wren sat blinking at him, unmoving. Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes, briskly moving toward the archer. “Little bird, surely you aren’t going to turn down the first real bath you’ve had in weeks and the only one you’ll get for who knows how long. Now enough of this. Arms up.”

The half-elf sighed and followed Astarion's order with heavy limbs. The vampire stripped her of everything besides her underwear and then tugged her with a bit of force, over to the tub. The rogue couldn’t help but admire the sinewy ripples of her back, and the freckles along her collarbone as he watched Wren remove her smallclothes and sink into the opaque tub of water.

The little bird closed her eyes and sighed as the comforting smell of lavender began to swirl around her. Wren allowed herself the smallest moment of bliss as she inhaled the relaxing tendrils of scented steam, but then she felt Astarion’s leg slipping into the bath with her and snapped her eyes open to stare at the silver-haired elf.

The man cocked an eyebrow as he assessed Wren’s wide, shocked eyes from where he faced her, now sunk chest deep in water, sitting on the opposite side of the tub. He huffed and leaned back in the bath as his long arms crossed resolutely.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re suddenly a prude now, little bird. This bath is more than big enough for the two of us, thanks to the behemoth it belongs to, and we’ve already seen one another completely nude and in the throes of ecstasy. So, if you think I’m going to pass up the only luxurious bath I might get in weeks, just because you’re naked and in a sour mood, you’re dead wrong.”

Wren chuckled; Astarion smirked in response at the first sign of her potentially improving mood. And then the ranger gave a good-natured eye roll before she shifted over just enough to make a bit of room for the rogue’s legs. But still, she didn’t speak.

The vampire occupied himself with dunking a sponge in water and wiping the grime off his own body. After that, he grabbed a small wooden cup off the bath tray and rinsed his hair; pale hands moved to scrub more of that milky liquid through his blood-flecked silver strands. Astarion closed his eyes and carefully rinsed again, inhaling the floral aroma and ensuring he felt no more suds remaining in his precious curled locks.

When the rogue’s lids fluttered open, the little bird had already moved to scrubbing her own body with a sponge. With his eyes closed, Astarion didn't see that she'd been staring at him, admiring his little smile and the way his hair looked weighed down by the water.

Wren flicked her gaze toward the vampire and sighed; her mouth opened as if she were about to speak, but then she sighed and shut it again. A few more minutes of silence passed, in which both beings simply welcomed the heat as it eased the soreness of overtired muscles.

Eventually, the ranger broke the silence, her voice still raw and scratchy from the earlier episode at the shoreline. The pale elf's eyes were closed as he lounged in the tub, but quickly snapped open when his pointed ears picked up her quiet, shaking voice.

“There are many pathways to and from the Underdark throughout Faerun. Kol was out with his friends, exploring one of those pathways. Unfortunately, they’d picked one that led to a cavern full of Phase Spiders… not unlike the one we encountered down that well.

We were out hunting when we heard their screams and went to investigate. By the time we downed the spiders, Kol was the only one alive… but barely.”

Astarion passed the cup to Wren as she spoke, and a few more seconds of silence passed as she rinsed and scrubbed her own hair with the lavender-scented solution. The elf watched from hooded, relaxed eyes as the water ran down the woman’s neck, languidly flowing down to that little spot at the crook where two faint pinpricks blended into a smattering of freckles, before finally trickling to where her breasts hid under the clouded tub of water.

“My father and the other elders wanted to leave Kol there to die… simply let nature take its course. But a few of the younger generation, including myself, begged them for mercy and they relented. Kol spent a week with us before he was well enough to go on his way and return to the Underdark. But he didn’t want to go. Life isn’t exactly great for male Drows in Menzoberranzan, especially not a second son, despite the Baenre name. So, he left a coded note in the cavern in case any of his other friends hoping to escape came looking for him... and then he was one of us.

Father considered Kol dead weight… he was softer, an artist… he would often draw me pictures of squirrels or other creatures. He was about average with a blade and terrible with a bow… but he was talented in other ways and surprisingly kind. I’d never met a man with a gentle, soft-hearted nature quite like him. And he pulled a softness out of myself that I’d shoved down and all but forgotten when my aunt brought me to my dad.

My father never wanted to be a parent, he remained unwed and unattached for that very reason, but I was an unexpected consequence of his actions and well… suffice to say I didn’t always have the most tender upbringing. Neither did Kol, but he honored his own nature despite that.

Anyway, my dad wanted me to marry Zahara, my first love… or one of the other warriors. His priority was to guarantee my safety and status within the clan. Either Zahara or I were going to be the next elder when one of the clan members passed… so it was the most pragmatic decision. But I was uninterested; so was she… we’d had our fun, but the romantic love just never stuck between us.

Against my father’s wishes, I snuck away with Kol... more than once. We sometimes journeyed down into the Underdark, and he showed me around very briefly. I suppose you've never been, but it’s beautiful down there, truly. We would never venture close to the city; he didn’t want to risk being caught… turning from Lolth is unthinkable and unacceptable in their culture. But I know he missed the beauty of the Underdark… he drew it all the time.

Father eventually relented and gave his blessing for Kol and me to be married. He knew I would leave and marry Kol on my own, settle down in some small hamlet or within a city, if it ever came down to it. So, we were married one beautiful autumn day, and we spent five years as husband and wife until his own kin found him.

They tracked us for days, waiting for the right opportunity. Kol was ambushed; they found him alone by the river near where we’d made camp. He was drawing, practically defenseless apart from a small dagger. I had been hunting not far away with the youngling group I’d been placed in charge of. I ran to the screams, but he was already gone when I got to him... Minthara was among them, she escaped… but one of her siblings and a two of her cousins were less lucky, in the end.”

Wren blinked away tears that were just beginning to form in her eyes as her voice cracked. She inhaled a shuttering breath through wobbling lips. Astarion watched the little lip scar that he was absolutely obsessed with as it trembled and fought back the urge to move forward and envelop it in a kiss.

The little bird dunked her lithe hands under the water and brought them back up to her face, wiping at the final specks of blood still stuck to her forehead and cheeks. She missed the spot near her eye, and Astarion leaned himself forward, lifting his hand to gently rub at the stubborn stain with his thumb. His eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to process all the information. And then, he stuck his foot in his mouth.

“So… when you said you downed two of house Baenre… it turns out you didn’t actually mean your own husband.” He murmured, his hand lingering a beat too long on her cheek.

“No! What?!” Wren snapped, her own eyebrows crinkling together as she pushed Astarion's hand away from her face.

Astarion rolled his eyes and huffed, leaning back again on his side of the tub. Part of him wanted to back off, but the more insolent and hurt part decided to double down. “Look, you've been quite mysterious about all this, and one can’t help but assume things, trying to make sense of it all. You’re hard to read!”

“Have you ever considered I’m not here like a book to be read?” The little bird snapped, suddenly lifting herself out of the bath. Streams of water trickled from her dark hair down her naked, freckled body. Astarion averted his gaze, suddenly quite aware he'd made another misstep and unwilling to piss Wren off further with his wandering eyes.

She climbed from the tub and snatched a towel from the shelf, wrapping it around herself before crouching and rustling through her bag. Then Wren quickly pulled her chemise from the sack and threw it over her head. When she turned and looked at Astarion, the expression on her face was a heartbreaking mixture of disappointment and sadness. She heaved a heavy, burdened sigh as she slipped her camp shoes on and shoved everything into her bag before grabbing it by one tattered strap.

“Astarion…” His name on her lips simultaneously sounded like a song and a slap, “If you’d ever bothered to actually ask me about myself… I would’ve told you the truth. I would’ve told you anything you wanted to know… if you’d just asked. I felt it, that night you pried into my mind, after the first time we kissed, you know. Why do you think you saw primarily nature scenes? That Wood Elf you kept seeing? It was a nightmare… not a memory.”

And then she walked out of the room, leaving Astarion alone and staring up at the ceiling. The vampire ran his hand through his hair and then groaned, dunking himself under the water’s lavender-scented, hazy surface. He closed his eyes, effectively cutting his senses off to the outside world. For a while, Astarion considered staying like this forever… he didn’t need to breathe, after all. Perhaps he could just hide in the tub, senses numb, all alone. Nobody would miss him or come looking for him here… that much was certain.

But soon the bath water started to grow cold, his fingers began to prune, and the rogue’s discomfort forced him to break through to the surface — and to reality — once again. He stood and shook his head, spraying scented droplets around the room before gathering his own towel and wrapping it around his waist. Astarion sighed and sat down on a bench, pinching his nose bridge as he wondered what in the hells he should do now. His body was clean, but his mind still felt riddled with debris.

Perhaps it hadn’t been Wren weaving a messy web around him… perhaps he’d been the one doing it to himself all along.

[beesxrated]

A Noble Exercise

Tav x Wyll wedding with some spice. 🪻

The wedding starts out with an orange sun just above the horizon. The house is buzzing with energy and excitement. You never get to catch a glimpse or hear anything about Wyll. As all of the preparations begin getting finished your palms start to sweat. After all your time fighting the cultists and your years in Avernus this is the most nervous you've been. All that time you had several friends and allies who knew exactly what you were going through and may have been going through the same. Now, however, it's just you and Wyll. Some of your friends are still by your side, but none of them are married, let alone in a long term relationship.

The long flowing sleeves of your dress begin to frustrate you as you try to keep your hands busy. You angrily throw the train over your shoulder and push the fabric up. You would be more comfortable getting married in your armor. Karlach bursts through the door at the perfect time. You were just about to change into your usual armor.

She grabs you with tears in her eyes, "You look so beautiful."

Her hug is extremely tight and you can't manage any words. When she finally releases you she sees how distraught you are. She immediately goes into Momma K mode. She brushes your hair and puts it out of your face. She tells you all the things she's heard about Wyll getting ready and how nervous everyone is saying he is. Hearing how Wyll is as nervous as you are, makes you feel a little less scared.

When the time comes you make your way down the aisle. Halsin agreed to marry the two of you. Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard agreed to walk you down to Wyll, seeing as you had no family left. Gale, Minsc, and Lae'zel stand next to Wyll. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion stand on the other side.

When you pictured your wedding growing up, you never imagined a vampire or githyanki being your most important people, let alone marrying a well-known folk hero. You'd always pictured a comment that had smitten you, made you feel as though you were some sort of noble. Wyll thought writing vows to each other would be more personal and fit the life you have and will continue to lead. It's another thing you never thought about when you were younger.

When Halsin finally reaches the vows it's your turn first, "I promise to dream with you, to build a family with you and to encourage you. I admire you. Simply because of your kind soul, tender heart, and positive mindset. I especially appreciate your endearing sense of humor. I am ever so grateful for your love and selflessness. In return, I offer these promises. I promise to always be your perfect dancing partner."

"Love is a word that is much too soft and used far too often to ever describe the fierce, infinite and blazing passion that I have in my heart for you. Falling for you wasn't falling at all—it was walking into a house and knowing you're home. Everything in me recognizes your heart as my home and your arms, my shelter. Your youth may fade away, but your smile will always remind me of that time I first saw you in the moonlight at the teifling party." Wyll says it all so effortlessly. He somehow pours the love he has for you into every word.

The rest of the ceremony and kiss feels rushed and it begins to make your head spin. The party is about to begin and you have barely been able to sit down. The moment your lips parted everyone was pushed to the ballroom. You see the sun is just an hour above the horizon. Has the day really been that fast?

You and Wyll dance and meet all the guests, many of whom he knew growing up. The two of you barely have time to talk with lines waiting to congratulate you when you take a break from the dancing. Wyll's hand stays interlocked with yours and squeezes when he notices how tired you are.

When the party is finally over the moon is almost at its peak in the sky. You make your way to your room, Wyll follows close behind. You turn to him and he shuts the door quickly behind him. As he begins to strip you give him a pointed look. It's been a long day, you haven't been planning on any sort of extra curricular activity.

Once he gets down to his undergarments he sighs and flops onto the bed, "Do you need help with your dress?"

"Yes, I just..." You drop your arms to your side, "I don't have the energy to do... Anything..."

He jumps up and begins unlacing your dress, "I was not looking for sex if that's what you mean. It's been too long of a day. I just want to hold you, make you feel less stressed." He pulls the dress off your shoulders and falls to the floor, "I am happy to wait for morning, or however long it takes."

Wyll pulls you down to the bed and holds you close to his chest. With little effort the two of you fall asleep. In the morning you feel more refreshed and rested. Wyll is awake next to you, reading a book. You shuffle over and lay on his chest.

"Good morning, myn lykyng." Wyll smiles down at you.

You lean up and kiss him. As you try to pull away he follows you. His hand cups your face as he attempts to place the half read book on the table. But when you hear a loud thud you know he's missed. He follows you all the way onto your back. The tension between the two of you begins to grow as he kisses you deeply, placing his hips between your legs.

He pulls away quickly, "Is this okay?"

You nod before pulling his lips back to yours. The two of you agreed to doing nothing physical for three months before the wedding. It was hard, but it's not like you actually had sex with each other. You touched and that was about it. Not from lack of trying, but in the Hells simply touching was hot enough.

He pulls away and rips the remaining clothes you had on, off. His lips feel as hot as the Hells as they make their way down your stomach. His tongue pushes into you, his nose grazing your clit. He seems surprisingly good since he'd never done it before.

He begins to slow his movements and pulls away, "Is that good?"

"Yes." You laugh as he gets back to it.

You grip his horns to guide him to the right movements. He's a fast learner and soon you're holding on for your sanity. He pulls away for a few moments, kissing your thighs. His teeth graze your skin. He continues kissing your tights and up to your hips, causing you to beg.

"Wyll." You moan and try to redirect his head using his horns, "Please."

He smiles into your hip bone before plunging back between your legs. You see him moving more than he was before and he groans into you. You pull at his horns asking for more friction. Wyll pulls his face away and climbs you. He rubs against you, letting you feel how aroused he is through his underwear.

He drags a hand down his face quickly, places a kiss on your lips, and pulls off his underwear. You admire him kneeling in front of you before he pushes himself forward. It's slow and slightly painful as you get used to him. When you finally start taking pleasure from him he quickens his pace and strengthens his thrusts.

Wyll keeps his lips locked with yours as it all comes way too quickly to an end. He pulses inside you and you feel shaky under him. He holds himself above you, not wanting to collapse and hurt you, he slowly falls onto the bed next to you.

Wyll breaks the silence, "I like when you grab my horns."

"Oh?" You smile at him, never expecting him to enjoy that.

"I don't know how to explain it. It feels nice."

You reach over and stroke the smooth horn. He shivers at the touch. You wish you would've known before, it seems like a good way to tease him or even give him some sort of pleasure while he pleases you. You let your hand fall down and brush his hair from his face. He's let his hair grow out and curl. The curls extenuate his horns and for some reason you find it very attractive. In fact the aging he has done in the past few years has made him far more attractive to you. Nothing looks bad on him.

[enarien]

the only mod for gortash is "longer wet shaggy hair as per the concept art"

the only mod for astarion is "slightly darker eyebrows because his laugh lines are presious and no one should touch them"

the only mod for lae'zel is "wait at least two nights before jumping my bones, please, maam i'm tired, beaten and bloody i can't get it up right now"

[she-walks-on-starlight]

Kiss of Death

a/n: This is Day 1! I will make a compilation of all these works at some point, watch this space - ✨

Pairing: Lae'zel x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Write about a first kiss

Warnings: swearing, blood, mild violence, mild threat, description of tasting blood.

Summary: Travelling with a stoic, broody Githyanki eliminates any chance of surprises... right?

Word Count: 997

The first time she kisses you, it takes you both by surprise. You were travelling the Risen Road, on your way to the Mountain Pass when you were cornered and set upon by a group of men and women demanding your valuables, and your lives.

The ensuing fight is a bloody one. Your attackers are well-armed and well-organised, a group of Zhentarim finally catching up with you, thirsting for revenge after finding you had not only killed one of theirs, Rugan, but also made off with the shipment he had been tasked with transporting. Turns out Zhentarim mercenaries hold one hell of a grudge.

Lae’zel welcomed the battle, unsheathing her gleaming greatsword with a piercing cry of “Htak'a!” and leapt into the fray, slashing, and stabbing in a deadly dance worthy of her heritage.

You were no stranger to a fight, not these days. Growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate had you learning to fight to survive before you even saw your tenth summer. You didn’t possess the same skill as Lae’zel but then few could match a Githyanki warrior trained in the ways of the blade practically from birth. You just thanked the Gods that she had chosen you as a worthy travelling companion, as she held a blatant disregard for most people she encountered.

You’re starting to tire, but you know you have to keep fighting. There’s no way you’re going down in a fight with these bastards, and you know Lae’zel will never forgive you if you give up.  You’re distracted by your own thoughts, a fatal mistake. The brute nearest you sweeps both your legs and you end up on your back, your blade knocked a few feet away. Useless.

The man chuckles, his eyes bright with malicious glee, raising his marred greataxe over his head. “This is for Rugan!”

You summon the last of your strength, leaning up and driving your elbow into his groin. “Fuck you!”

The man doubles over in pain, grunting angrily. His eyes blaze and he lunges forward, clasping hold of your throat. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands if I have to, whelp!”

“Hta'zith!”

The man’s eyes widen, and you feel warm, thick blood on your face. The blood is not yours; it is leaking from the man now slumping as life drains from him. The sharp tip of Lae’zel’s sword protrudes proudly from his chest. She does not move to help you up, instead she turns away to survey the now bloody scene in front of her, riddled with the fallen.

Jumping up, you dust yourself off, angling yourself away from Lae’zel as you surreptitiously check yourself for wounds. You discover a long, thin cut on your forearm that will likely close on its own in a few days. A gash just under your ribs presents a more pressing issue, but it can wait until you find a somewhat decent healer. You glance to the side, watching curiously as Lae’zel cleans her sword of blood in one sweep of her gloved hand.

Sighing, you retrieve your sword and sheath it, raising your voice so she can hear you. “Thank you. For the save. I didn’t see him, stupid really…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because without warning, Lae’zel is towering over you, her expression unreadable. You swallow, unable to find your words and apparently you don’t need them because she grasps your collar roughly and brings your mouth to hers.

Her grip is tight and unyielding as she presses you against her, the cold plate of her armour clinking against your fraying chain shirt. Her scent envelops your senses, a rich blend of sweat, musk, and blood. Her kiss is dominating, and her teeth are sharp, every now and then nipping at your bottom lip as she deepens the kiss to claim you entirely. Her tongue enters and you know it is futile to even attempt to take control, so you allow her to have you, a low moan tearing from your throat as your body awakens from her fierce kiss. All too soon, she pulls way from you and busies herself with checking the corpses for anything that can be sold or put to good use.

You blink rapidly. “Why did you do that?”

Lae’zel stares at you blankly. “I find your form pleasing, especially in the throes of battle.”

You gulp, feeling a blush creep up your neck and colouring your cheeks. “I was hardly any good back there. You had to save me.”

Lae’zel nods. “It is true, your stance should not be broken so easily. Your balance requires more training, and you must learn to grip your weapon in such a way that you wield it with more force and cannot have it wrested from you.”

You hang your head, but grin sheepishly. “Good job I have you around to teach me, huh?”

Lae’zel cocks her head to the side, analysing you. “I will gladly impart my wisdom for battle unto you.” She steps into your space again, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet her gaze. “But I would have you hold your head high.”

You wonder if she will kiss you again, taking the time to admire her eyes, green emeralds flecked with bronze and gold, a more precious sight than any petty gem. She considers you for only a moment more before she returns her attention to looting. You join her, still reeling from the kiss. Once you have swept the area, you nod to Lae’zel and continue towards the Mountain Pass. She shakes her head.

“No. We make for the Emerald Grove. You are in need of healing.”

You sputter in protest. “We need to reach your crèche!”

She silences you with a look, a devious look in her eye. “If you are to withstand my plans for you this night, you must be healed and ready.”

You gulp again, suddenly feeling very hot. “Well then…in that case, to the Emerald Grove!”

[blackjackkent]

Moonrise Towers is, by a considerable margin, the biggest thing Rakha has any memory of seeing. It rises out of the bleak, shadowy landscape like a god in stone; the walls are lined with torches and pale moonlanterns, driving back the insatiable darkness around it.

Rakha's head aches tremendously, looking at it; the tadpole in her head squirms excitedly.

"That's far enough," one of the guards snaps as they approach the tower's entryway.

Narrator: His thoughts invade your own, probing for purchase. Your parasite purrs in recognition.

Rakha stiffens, her fists flexing at her side. The sense of connection between the tadpoles is by now familiar enough - but there is a big difference between having it done by an ally versus an enemy. She feels immediately tense, angry; the beast in her head growls, eager to twist the man's helmet so the sharp jaw guard slices his nose off.

But she waits. She waits...

She remembers her first conscious day, back on the nautiloid - how she set aside any question of strategy in favor of hurling herself at the first mind flayer she saw and tearing it apart, because it was within reach and could be punished. And indeed, part of her feels the squirm of the tadpole in this man's mind and wants to destroy him at once and for good, simply because he is an Absolutist among many others here, all of them responsible for what has been done to her.

But she needs to find some deeper strength now. The torturous hunger for Isobel's blood has made it abruptly clear to her that she no longer wants to be that mindless monster. She wants to do as Lae'zel and Wyll have taught her, and kill with purpose. The target here is Ketheric, the leader; the others may also die in their own time, but it is important that she first learn what answers they possess that will get her closer to the man she truly wants to kill.

And...Wyll stands at her side. Her eyes flick to him now, watching his placid calm, and she draws strength for her own control from his presence, at least for now. She will wait, and she will find out what she needs to know, and then she will destroy this place.

"My apologies," says the guard, seemingly satisfied with what he has seen in her head. His hand drops to his side and he inclines his head respectfully. "Welcome back, True Soul - what news?"

Rakha blinks. The True Soul part is expected - the rest is not. "Welcome back?" she asks slowly, carefully. "I've never been here before."

The guard's eyebrows lift fractionally - and then he gives her a casual smile. "My mistake," he says mildly. "Your mind tastes familiar. Where *are* you reporting from?"

Rakha's eyes narrow. For a moment she thought he was about to say that he knew her - and all her attention was ready to focus on whatever revelations about her past he might be able to provide. She tries to press outward with her tadpole, to seek out the things in his mind that he isn't saying... but he is impenetrable, armored against such intrusion, his expression bland and unrevealing.

Damn it.

"Nowhere of importance," she says noncommittally. "What news inside?" This subtle business of pretending to be an ally is not something that comes naturally to her; generally speaking she prefers to be direct. So the less she forces herself to say, the better.

"General Ketheric's advisor went off on a field trip," the guard answers promptly. "Z'rell's in charge 'til he gets back."

"You'll find Z'rell in the audience chamber, True Soul," the other guard adds. "She'll be wanting to hear from you."

Rakha goes perfectly still. Another name that resonates through her, something familiar without context. Z'rell. Like the name Sarevok, the name Gortash - points of light in the infinite darkness of her memory. And this guard said her mind tastes familiar...

Frustration boils in her chest. She is so tired of not knowing herself. She is so tired of these hints of a picture she can't see.

"Z'rell..." Wyll says. "Fancy name. Let's put our best foot forward." A pause, and then he grins slightly. "Or is it best feet?" He can see that she is troubled, though he doesn't know why; stepping slightly forward, he lets the back of his hand brush lightly against the back of hers. The gentle touch steadies her, draws her back out of her thoughts just a little.

But the questions remain like razor blades at the back of her mind.

[not-so-lost-after-all]

This was a catastrophy...

It started as a joke, though. She told Astarion about Halsin's proposal with a good-natured shake of her head. He started laughing, his usual thetrical self. “He just can't shut up about the freedoms of nature. Darling, you can have as much Halsin as you want.”

There was cold wave all across her body. She stopped her steps, inclining her head and met his eyes. “Is that so?” she said, casually for now.

“Well, if you'd like me to join in, that would indeed cross the line,” he frowned a little. “But I must ask, is that because... you know... we haven't in a while.”

“Gods, give me strenght,” she gritted her teeth.

(Shadowheart chuckled. “I just wonder what exactly you try to achieve here. You want to turn him into someone who can understand how people actually care about each other sometimes? Someone who won't get stabbed within a week on his own? He won't change. Most likely even can't anymore.")

Suddenly the bile inside was on her tongue, overflowing. Esipre was so tired and even viciously glad she didn't care if the words are cutting anymore. “Of course it is, what other reason could I possibly have to go with him? And I don't ask for any permission.”

His eyes widened. Oh, that hurt. It was easy to be mean to him. Cruel, even. “Then have fun, I suppose, my dear.” There was tremor in his voice he didn't bother to hide. No mockery followed, now that was something. But she was not in the mood to coddle him, hug him or kiss him.

“It was never my intention to sleep with him. I told him no because I know it would sting you no matter what you say. I understand why I gave you the impression but you should have known me better by now. You never listen or ask, you only want.”

She never saw her own reflection in his eyes, she only seemed reborn in them in a twisted form. She hardly recognized herself whenever he depicted her character. And yet, wasn't there a grain of beastly truth in his words?

He whispered her name and she knew if she stops for a moment, it would pierce through her heart again.

“I'm not done here. I thought that in recent weeks, I gave you enough to earn if not love, then at least your trust. My blood, protection, warm body during the night, the truth about your scars, the way back to our city - why wasn't it enough? Gods above, anyone else in our merry band would be less demanding and more giving.”

(“That's wonderful lets get married and have kids look, Gale. But I'm afraid you're looking in the wrong direction.”)

And then, the ace from her pocket. “If you think so low of me, then perhaps you also think that if it was Cazador with us instead of you and told me about his sad story, I would spread my legs and offer my neck to him too?”

Astarion took a step back with a jerk. “Don't say that, don't you ever joke about that,” he hissed with both anger and frustrated hurt.

She went way too far, she knew. Esipre closed her eyes for a few beats of her racing heart. It helped. She was a leader, not someone's bitter neglected wife, dammit.

“I'm sorry, that was a low blow. But I'm scared and tired too, you know,” she finished with hollow voice. With a wave of her hand, she left. Mercifully, he didn't follow her.

---

This was a catastrophy...

He simply tried to not stand in her way, to please her, to make her stick around. Now he wondered whether she returned to Halsin or not. It was already dark, everybody already resting at the inn, only Esipre was missing. He found her outside, hunched by the fire, cross-legged and with a bottle of wine. She was so small and perhaps for the first time he noticed the toll this little adventure was taking on her.

“May I?” he started.

“I'm afraid I would be no fun tonight. Perhaps go talk with Lae'zel about our glorious slaughter today? Flirt with Wyll maybe? Whatever. I already told you...”

“That you're going to help me. Yes, you repeated it several times already. I'd rather be sulking in your company if I may.”

He didn't wait for the answer. He quickly found himself with his head in her lap. Like some tamed wolf, he thought. Perhaps that's fitting and strangely he doesn't even mind. Esipre looked at him in displeasure and pressed her lips together but didn't stop him or yell at him.

“Please be patient, you know I'm still learning. If you want me to ask something, I wouldn't even know where to start.”

She laid one hand on his chest but barely met his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed. “Why are you here and not inside with the others?”

“It was wonderful here, without any words. Inside... Everyone wants a piece.”

“And I want the biggest piece of you, of course, until there's nothing left. Why?”

She took a sharp breath and then the words came like a flood. She never was lady enough for her noble mother, savvy enough for her noble father, a piece of furniture for her step mother. Even on the streets she got herself almost killed several times and the few times she sold her body she was so miserable she made the others miserable too. Not good enough of a wizard, never had the time and money before. Not good enough of a friend to not sell her companions to the law or lowlives several times to save her own skin. Never enough. She wanted to not fail everyone just for once. “See, you're not the only one wearing a mask.”

“You're doing great job, darling. Barely any of us died so far. Some of us are even better off now. You've grown so much and maybe you should trust our companions that they know what they're doing when they decided to follow you.” He grinned widely. “Am I doing it correctly?”

She laughed and nodded. There was that light in her eyes again.

“Anyway, whatever happens, I want to thank you for that look. You always brighten up when you stare at me. Nobody ever looked at me like this. I... just wanted you to know that,” he kissed her wrist reverently

Perhaps, just for once, gods actually sent him a blessing.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

BG3 Companions and Weird Kinks

CW: blood, feeding, inapproriate use of Wild Shape, and whatever tf Minsc has going on Lae'zel Bloodplay. She loves the smell and taste of blood, of spent adrenaline. She wouldn't make a wound just for her own desires (the epitome of impractical), so she waits for a good fight. Lae'zel adores tending to her partner's injuries, licking and kissing knife wounds and arrow punctures.

Astarion Shaving. The trust, the intimacy, the mundaneness, the slow, calculated attention to detail. Forms of 'sexless sex' like shaving are such an indulgence for him. Let him settle between your legs with a razor and he'll be lost in tender bliss.

Shadowheart Fear of being caught. She loves the thrill of it, the secret of it. Having friends or even enemies nearby as she fucks you makes her heart race and her pussy clench--she feels so entirely alive in those moments. Gale Experimenting. Whether he's having his partner try a new dinner recipe or a new alchemical potion, having someone trust him so implicitly turns him on like nothing else. He'll take weird concoctions with you and spend the day 'monitoring for adverse effects' (fucking) and taking notes. Wyll Exhaustion. Pushing his muscles until they feel shaky and hot is such a high for him. He loves fucking after a battle or a particularly grueling practice-- completely draining himself of every ounce of energy and cum simultaneously. It's the only way he can feel accomplished, at ease. It's days like those that he sleeps the best. Karlach Plushies. Being able to hug and squeeze something so soft makes her heart soar, and it makes her feel soft herself--delicate, innocent, even. And when her partners not around, it gives her something to grind on. Or if her partner is around but tired, she can put on a show. Halsin Wild shape. If his partner is open to his bear form, he can't help but be curious about taking them in ALL his forms. He won't broach the subject himself, but he certainly fantasizes about it--breeding you with every cock in his arsenal, wondering which would make you cum the hardest. Jaheira Feeding. To feed her lover, to hear them groan in appreciation and to spoonfeed them every last bite of a meal, kissing them in between. The comfort of a full stomach is one she's often been without, and if she loves you, she wants to make sure you're always well fed. Minsc Being told exactly what to do. Why is this considered a weird kink? Because he likes to have Boo tell him 🤦‍♂️ If you're getting it on with Minsc, of course he's going to have his favorite little guy there too, helping him set the pace and switch up positions orz

[podcastenthusiast]

I haven't reached Act 2 yet as my Durge but I've seen That Scene with Astarion. A rare fic of mine not written from his POV.

Dark Urge spoilers!

--

You open your eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight. Must be close to midday, you assume, yet you are still exhausted. A long night spent writhing on the ground, compelled by a terrible impulse to butcher the one person you love most will do that, you suppose.

There is dried blood beneath your fingernails. Alfira's? No, no, that's a wretched thing you will always carry with you but it is past, not happening now. Astarion's? No. You will not let it harm him. You didn't. The blood is just your own. This time.

You close your eyes. Sickening visions dance before you. Your limbs ache from straining against the bindings. Your head pounds and your stomach churns, craving only blood. What a pair you and Astarion make.

Voices outside your tent.

"Lu awake yet? I'm booored," Karlach complains.

"My fault, I'm afraid. She didn't get much sleep," says Astarion, smooth as silk as he expertly weaves half-truths together. "We were rather...tied up, you understand."

He sets the snare.

"I think I speak for everyone here when I say I would prefer not to know any details of what you two did together."

And Gale willingly falls for it.

"Agreed," adds Lae'zel. "But your dalliances have now delayed our progress. I will not wait around to become a mindflayer simply because you could not restrain your carnal desires."

"My dear, as I've said we were the very picture of restrained last night--"

Gale makes a mortified sound.

"Please just go wake her up and stop torturing us," Wyll pleads diplomatically.

"Fine. Honestly, you all are no fun," Astarion pouts.

You hear footsteps approaching your tent a few moments later.

"Darling? May I come in?"

"You don't need permission anymore," you remind him.

"Let it never be said I lack proper decorum," he says, slipping into the tent.

After last night, you can scarcely believe he's so willing to share an enclosed space with you. Even now your mind fills with gruesome images--one quick stab would end him, but then you wouldn't get to hear his pretty voice scream in agony. You could cut out his talented tongue. Watch the light bleed slowly from those beautiful ruby eyes.

"You didn't tell them," you say, swallowing down a wave of nausea. "About last night."

"Well spotted."

"You could have."

You don't want him to feel like he owes you for something. You don't want him to fear you either. But you do want him safe, even if that's the cost.

"And why would I? It's hardly my secret to tell, after all."

"I almost killed you."

"Good thing I'm already dead, then."

"Astarion. This is serious!"

"If harsh words and a bite or two qualify as murder, well, I'm guilty as charged a thousand times over."

You don't speak, for a while. He has no idea what a close call it really was.

"When I... I didn't remember, with Alfira. I wasn't fully conscious. But this was different. I was aware of everything and I still couldn't control it. I would've-- I--"

Tears come then, hot and desperate. He wraps you in his arms and you crumble, sobbing against his shoulder. You cling to him like you're drowning and, in a way, you are.

"Oh, pet, shh," he whispers. "Whatever that thing was last night, it wasn't you. I know how it feels to lose control, to be...puppeted. I wouldn't wish it upon anyone half as good as you."

"I'm not good," you choke out. The dark urges so often feel indistinguishable from your own thoughts. You could be deluding yourself. Poor Alfira's blood is on your hands regardless, because you weren't strong enough. Last night proves you could have been. But for how long? What does the oath you swore even matter if you can't protect anyone from yourself?

"Darling, do you think a bad person would cry her eyes out over a vampire spawn? Who, I remind you again, is perfectly fine."

You look at him. He's tired. Worried. A bit hungry. Your guts twist with guilt.

You are so tired, too, and selfish as it is, you cannot do this all alone.

"I think I'm a monster," you whisper.

"Oh, please. You rescue children from harpies."

You keep that story the kid wrote for you trucked away safe in your pack. You read it when you need to remember who you've chosen to be.

"I wanted to drown that child."

The confession pulls another sob from your throat.

"But you didn't," he says. "Now, I'm right here, and I've got you. Get some rest. I'll tell the others you aren't feeling well."

"No, I can--"

"My sweet, if you go out there all teary-eyed and miserable they might think I broke your heart. We can't have that, eh?"

"If you tell them I'm ill, they'll assume you took too much blood last night."

He shrugs. "As good a lie as any. Everyone gets a little carried away from time to time."

"You don't have to lie for me at all."

You recall Gale's cold, accusing stare as he watched you scrub away Alfira's blood until your skin was raw. You imagine the fear and deep relief you would feel were Shadowheart to draw her weapon on you. She isn't one for second chances, let alone third.

"I know that, love. I want to."

[soupandsorcery]

In the morning, her neck hurts. It's like a bruise, throbbing and irritated, and whenever she turns her head, it flares up, reminding her of what she let Astarion do last night. Probably not one of her better ideas, but it worked out in the end. Which was for the best, because it would have been a pity to have to stake him. Astarion's funny.

Vesper stretches and then winces, getting dressed quickly. She checks her appearance in the little mirror she keeps on her, and there on her neck are two little fang marks. They're dully red and neat, evidence of the clean bite. When she presses her fingers to them, they feel warm, and the pain flares just a bit.

Hopefully they'll behave like any other scars. They'll trouble her for a bit and then fade away in time.

"Good morning."

Astarion's voice makes her turn. There's a brightness to his eyes that wasn't there before, but there's something guarded too. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Good morning," Vesper says back. "How do you feel?"

"I was going to ask you the same question."

She shrugs. "My neck hurts. How do you think I feel?"

His eyes look her over from head to toe, but for once, it lacks all the flirtatious teasing he's been pulling for the last week or so. It's just...curiosity. A different sort of interest.

"There's something...different about you," Astarion says. "About your blood."

Vesper raises an eyebrow, keeping her face neutral. Now that is something she didn't consider. It's been easy enough to hide her true nature from her new companions, and any slips she might have made have gone unnoticed with the tadpoles and the ticking time bomb they represent taking priority. But Astarion has been closer to her than anyone else. Intimately close, one could say.

"Different from rats and boars you mean?" they ask, affecting lightness.

Astarion picks up on it instantly. Takes a liar to know one, Vesper supposes. "No," he says, lifting an eyebrow. "Well, yes. But that's not what I mean. Your blood was...intense. Almost spicy in a way."

"Spicy?"

"Well, I don't know how else to describe it! It burned, but it wasn't an unpleasant heat. In fact, it was downright delicious. But definitely not normal."

"And how would you know? You said yourself you've never fed on a person before. Maybe this is just what humans taste like."

It's a poor attempt at deflecting, and Astarion brushes it aside easily. "It isn't. I can smell it now that I know what I'm looking for. You don't smell anything like Wyll or Shadowheart or even Lae'zel. A bit closer to Lae'zel, now that I think about it, but still. You're hiding something."

He sounds almost gleeful to say it, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at her with all the sass at Astarion's considerable command.

And all of a sudden, Vesper is tired. Tired of hiding, tired of the subtle disguise spell that changes certain parts of her. This far from Waterdeep, no one's heard of her, and while she'd been worried about Gale knowing, even he hadn't shown any sign of recognition. They'd relished the chance to shake off the mantle of their old life and be someone else for once, but she hadn't considered the burden of hiding so constantly.

She sighs and rolls her shoulders, the bite on her neck twinging with pain again. It keeps her head clear as she regards Astarion and makes a snap decision.

"You're right," they say. "And I suppose fair is fair. Come with me." They turn on their heel and start walking, pacing away from camp.

"I--wait!" Astarion calls after her, then scrambles to catch up. "You can't just say that and then walk away."

"I'm not doing this here," Vesper hisses. "Not where everyone can see."

"See what?" Astarion asks.

Vesper doesn't answer. They just keep walking with purpose towards a little cluster of trees, far enough away from the camp that they don't have to worry about anyone seeing this. She can only imagine what Shadowheart would have to say, if she knew. No, that's a bridge to be crossed later. Maybe much later, depending on how this goes with Astarion.

Astarion, who is waiting, tapping his foot with impatience that seems at odds with the rampant curiosity in his eyes.

"Well?" he drawls. "What have you dragged me out here to see? Oh--is this where you reveal that you've been in disguise all this time? Because I did wonder, you know."

"You...wondered?"

"Naturally. No one is that beautiful. Except me, but that's different."

Honestly, Vesper can't help but laugh. It tickles her down to her bones, and she goes with it, letting the spell she's had up almost constantly since being abducted finally drop.

It feels like breathing. Like taking the first true, deep breath she's had in days. Her wings spread out behind her, shimmering iridescent and white in the morning sun. She flaps them once, twice, and then lets them fall closed against her back. Her eyes shift from the plain, muddy brown they were magicked into, glowing silvery pale with radiant fire. Everything else, her face, her hair, her stature, remains the same.

Some people, apparently, are just that beautiful.

Astarion stares at her, mouth slightly agape. It's the most stunned she's ever seen him, and she grins, feeling suddenly, incredibly amazing.

"I think this is the longest you've gone without saying anything, Astarion. No witty quips?"

"You're an aasimar," Astarion breathes, and he sounds well and truly shocked. "Gods below."

"It's not as exciting as it seems," Vesper tells him. "I'm not some celestial messenger or anything. I'm from Waterdeep, and I was snatched out of a fighting pen by a bunch of mind flayers. The wings are the coolest part, honestly."

"They are quite impressive." Astarion is still staring, but he shakes himself, letting some of the wonder retreat behind his usual haughty pout. "Well, well, we are an interesting group, aren't we? At least that ship full of tentacled freaks had taste in their victims."

Vesper snorts. "Small comfort, but I guess you're right."

"My question is why trust me with this?"

"You trusted me."

Red eyes roll as Astarion scoffs. "That's different. You caught me in the act, and I got something out of it. What do you get out of this?"

"Last night you said you felt happy after feeding on me. Was that just because of the blood?"

There's a pause as Astarion thinks that over. "Mostly the blood, I suppose. Although, there is something to be said for not having to hide it anymore."

Vesper inclines their head to him. "Exactly. I just want to be me."

"It would be hypocritical of me to argue with that."

"It would," Vesper agrees cheerfully.

"I don't suppose you're feeling in a sharing enough mood to explain the fighting pen thing?"

She laughs at that, shaking her head. "Not right now. Maybe next time I let you feed off of me, I'll tell you."

"I'll hold you to that. Am I right in assuming you don't want the rest of our cohort to know about this just yet?"

"You are. I'll tell them eventually, but for now, you're the only one who can know."

"Dangerous, trusting the vampire spawn with a secret."

"Why, Astarion, just last night you told me I could trust you," Vesper says, pressing a hand over their chest dramatically.

He rolls his eyes again. "And I don't think you believed me for a moment."

"Not true. You're here, aren't you? Seeing this." She spreads her wings once more, enjoying the freedom to stretch them out while she can.

Astarion blinks and then glances away. "So I am. Well." He doesn't seem to know what to say to that, and Vesper figures she's pushed him enough for one moment.

She sighs and works her spell once more, hiding the wings, turning her eyes back to mundane brown. It feels worse now, than it did before, and she resolves that she's going to tell the rest of the group soon. And anyone else they encounter will just have to deal with it.

She's free of the pens now, and she doesn't plan to spend the rest of her life hiding. However long that might be. But for today, they have things to do. A druid to find, goblins to kill, and who knows what else.

It feels good to have someone know, though. To have at least one person see her. Vesper would not have assumed it would be Astarion, but somehow it works. It feels right in an odd way.

They're not going to delude themself that this is going to be some kind of turning point where she and Astarion become best friends and start sharing all their secrets, but...it's a start. It's something.

And Vesper has learned to take what she can get.

[mxcrumplebottom]

While I was trying to take portraits of them, Lae'zel ran off to go flirt with Karlach haha. Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Karlach are in a polyamorous relationship in my game! c:

I can't wait to actually play the game. I'm getting so tired of building and decorating. :c I never wanna see another OMSP in my life.

[sorcerous-caress]

Sending this all in one ask even though it's technically four different things, hope that's alright-

1. Ik it's small and just in the tags but the Sol response for the soulmates post is so 💞

2. I really liked the writing in your Yurgir post, just thought it was really neat and I liked your wordings (I could not come up with a better way to word this, though- my bad). Let him protect Tav!! Even though he's also completely wrecking them <3

3. I agree really hard on the backgrounds giving dialog options. It really feels like it should be a thing- I think maybe all background affects dialog wise, is whether or not your character gets the Baldurian tag..? But that might just be a race thing (in which you'd either get Baldurian or Underdark. Or... Nothing for githyanki? Unless they have the Planar tag? Idk)

I may not be able to have the option in game, but in my mind's eye my noble Tav introduced themselves proudly with their full name, and Astarion immediately poked fun at them for how much of a mess their family is known to be. Them most likely recognizing Wyll as the Ravengard son and assuming he'd know of them as well but he straight up doesn't. Beautiful stuff

-Tressym anon

Thank you for taking the time to write this! Love hearing your thoughts <3

1 - You read it!! I didn't think anyone would notice, I'm so happy. I really want to add them to the several characters mini-lists I make but I always hesitate because since the post will leave my blog tags, I don't want it to feel like I'm forcing my OC into the fandom main media?

So I just leave it in the tags for my readers to hopefully find, since only you guys know about Sol and will see the OG post while most people will see reblogs of reblogs without my tags.

It's like, while Halsin embraces fate and has faith in it, Sol and Minthara do not. They realise how incredibly lucky they are to have met you. Sol condems fate for being so pitiful, how easily they'd have never met you and just spent their life hiding their true self and following their family.

While Minthara fears fate, she knows she would've killed you under any other circumstances. She dreads the idea of never waking up from her brainwashing, be it from Lolth or the Absolute.

2 - I'm glad to hear you liked it! I can't stress how I will never get tired of hearing this or how these comments never get redundant to me. Honestly, I'm having a really bad day rn but still pushed out a fic bc I felt like it's been a while, it makes me feel appreciated when people tell me they liked anything about my works. So thank you again from the deepest of my heart.

3- omfg, the Astarion idea is gold. He would totally have gossip on most noble families since he spent so much time in the upper city. You'd be announce yourself and titles so proudly and he'd be like "didn't your cousin runaway with that barmaid and leave his wife and three kids behind?"

Or playful banter with Wyll since he came from nobility originally, the two of your characters could've seen each other as kids or something before the whole Mizora thing and he'd be like "wait...I remember you! You're that kid who stole my piece of cake during my birthday party"

Also imagine insulting Gortash during his coronation with a noble background, basically calling hime fake nobility and how he doesn't know the first thing about rulling or etiquette.

Maybe when you come back to the city, you already have an account made in the bank and don't need to start another? Maybe you get pickpocketed quite often because you "look rich" and if you sleep at any camp besides the elfsong tavern, you remain restless and don't heal to full.

Being an obnoxious noble sounds way too fun. A spoiled rich person who has to trudge around in the mud in the underdark and complain about their silk clothes getting absolutely ruined while the party snicker behind you.

Imagine teaching Lae'zel and Shadowheart how to slow dance <3 or taking Karlach to a very fancy restaurant reservation during her date in act 3!

[shivasdarknight]

okay taking a break because a bitch is tired to where my eyes hurt, but where i'm at:

made it to the emerald grove, encounter didnt go so bad except that one npc died (idk it was the guy w the shield, i wasnt paying attention

im God Awful at anything to do with charisma. always get low throws on top of the -1 modifier 😭

gale apparently trusts me enough to tell me he's a walking nuke while expecting me to hand over my cool sword so he can eat it

met wyll, realizing that shit's gonna get awkward because i want karlach

still got wyll tho, he's so cool

ran into shadowheart and im struggling to see why she's liked but ig i do have lae'zel in my party. idk not really liking her so far

i probably have negative reputation with astarion just because i won't be mean to tiefling refugees? 🤷 iunno what he wants me to do, im literally playing a tiefling

combat's fun tho, really love these kinds of games. just cant wait to get the peanut gallery to shut up when i get to camp and swap party members