#lae'zel x y/n

[teaaagan]

5 more minutes

Shadowheart: It’s time to wake up, Karlach

Karlach: 5 more minutes…

Shadowheart, smiling softly: 5 more minutes -snuggles up to Karlach-

_

Lae'Zel: It’s time to wake up.

Tav(Y/N): 5 more minutes…

Lae'Zel: -Sharpening knife- Maybe you misheard me

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 2: the hunted

Find the masterlist here!

W/C: 2,327

A/N: Have a chapter in honor of my new computer!

Astarion spent the next morning as he always did, sitting just outside his tent with a book in hand. Most of the camp was up and milling about, starting their days by breaking their fasts and groggily wishing each other ‘good morning’s. He made sure to stay away from it all, as usual, but watched the proceedings with a keen eye and a great sense of unease. His attention kept flitting back and forth between the ever growing gaggle of his awakened traveling companions and your darkened tent.

He felt a sense of dread inch its fingers up his spine, cold and unyielding, the more time passed without your lively and authoritative presence to command the group of companions. The sun’s reach expanded well over the horizon now, and it was so very unlike you to have a lie in, no matter the circumstances.

Oh gods, did I go too far last night? What if I killed her?!

Just as he prepared himself to go check on you, lest he find you dead at his hand, you popped your head out of your tent. You raised an arm against the onslaught of daylight and blinked blearily, running a hand down your face to dash the sleep from your eyes. Astarion sighed audibly in relief, until your now-focused gaze found him. Dread’s icy grip once again clutched at him, stealing his breath anew.

This is it. This is where I’ll be tossed.

You made a beeline for him, taking care to avoid drawing the attention of the other companions. Astarion slipped into his familiar guise of nonchalance, preparing himself for his inevitable departure. He made to stand when you stopped a few feet from him.

“Good morning,” he began with a coy smile, “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, if a bit woozy,” you waved noncommittally. “And you? How do you feel?”

Astarion’s false confidence crumbled in an instant, blanching at your question.

“How… how do I feel? My dear, I’m not the one that had a leech to their throat last night!”

“That’s rather beside the point, leech,” you giggled. “Now, do you plan on answering me? Or are you simply going to stand there agape like a dead fish?”

“I suppose I feel… well. Superb, even!” he giggled back. 

“Wonderful! Any idea how long this will last?” you pointed to your head, no doubt referencing the foggy sensation clouding your thoughts.

“It’ll pass,” he flicked his hand dismissively. “Just be grateful I’m not a ‘true’ vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self,” he leaned forward, voice hushed, “All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

He heaved a dejected sigh at the reminder.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a smile toying at your lips, “Oh? Any other drawbacks I should be aware of?”

“That’s the odd thing: standing in the sun, wading through rivers, wandering into homes without an invitation - they’re all perfectly mundane activities now, things I never could have done before the tadpole. Seems someone, or something, has changed the rules. If only Cazador were here so I might laugh in his face before I rip it off,” he laughed heartily - then abruptly cut himself short, a shard of terror lancing through his thoughts at having revealed too much.

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, studying him, but did not press.

“Nonetheless, it’s a stroke of good fortune to have a vampire on our side. I meant what I said, I am excited to see you fight,” you intoned softly, dropping your arms.

“Oh yes, and now I can fight with all my weapons,” he responded with a devious smirk, fangs glinting in the bright morning sun. “If I drain a bandit dry every now and again, it isn’t as if they weren’t destined to meet their maker anyway.”

You laughed, loud and full, at his witty remark. He was surprised to find that it stirred a delightful warmth in his chest, a feeling unfamiliar to him.

“I’m just glad you’re being sensible about these… revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks,” he began with a smile, though it was rapidly erased as he noticed the other companions wandering into earshot with a mixed array of expressions. 

“Although, there’s still time,” he nodded over your shoulder gravely. He watched intently as your expression hardened and you turned to face the horde.

“A vampire among us? So be it. But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel snarled.

“I’d just better not wake in the night to find fangs at my throat,” Shadowheart scoffed with disdain.

“Of course we’re traveling with a vampire,” Gale threw his hands up in exasperation, then pointed at him menacingly, “A word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful!”

You looked at him over your shoulder, and whatever you saw on his face steeled your resolve.

“I trust him,” you said, voice hardened and posture defensive. “Besides, like it or not, we need him. And there’s no need to worry about the safety of your necks. He’s got mine.”

You turned your head and bared his bite mark to your companions. A round of hushed murmurs and surprised faces met your bold confession to his feeding. If he could blush, he would be red from the tips of his ears to his toes in mortification at what your words implied.

“Well, now that’s settled, we should be getting on our way. Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, you’re with me. We’re to find the witch, Ethel, today,” you finished with a nod, effectively dismissing the group.

Astarion continued to stare at the back of your head in shock, and you turned to face him again, an inquisitive look adorning the fine features of your face once more.

“I…” he began, but petered out, unsure of what to say.

You snorted and turned to stride back towards your tent, presumably to stock your bag for the day.

He reached out to stop you instinctively and grabbed at your shoulder. You flinched uncharacteristically and froze on the spot, and he ripped his hand away as though scalded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled as you turned toward him again. The look you regarded him with was far icier than before, the lingering warning of a threat still causing your pulse to flutter.

“S’fine,” you mutter. “Out with it.”

“I… just wanted to thank you. Again,” he finished lamely, waving his hands awkwardly at his sides.

“Don’t mention it,” you said gruffly, then finally strode away to your tent and began donning your armor.

Puzzled by your reaction, he watched you pack for a few moments too long. ______________________________________________________________

“It’s so unpleasantly muggy in these parts, and there are so many bloody bugs,” he whined, swatting at the air around him.

“Does the big, bad, bitey monster fear a taste of his own medicine?” Shadowheart mocked, deepening his scowl.

“Don’t worry, Astarion. They won’t bite you; you’re dead, remember?” you quipped with a cheeky grin.

Just as a retort reached his lips, you stopped dead in your tracks and raised an arm - a signal to await your command.

“What is it?” he whispered apprehensively.

You hushed him, scanning the sunny fields of wildflowers surrounding the group.

“Illusion magic. This isn’t real,” you murmured. As if triggered by your words, the grassy knolls give way to reveal a bog, fetid with the stench of death and decay.

“Oh lovely!” he chirped sarcastically, “I always did want to rot in a bog!”

You shot a glare at him and signaled the group to continue onward. The change in landscape was drastic; where once there were flowers, now fungi resided, drawing sustenance from the mossy trunks of felled trees. The sunlight had vanished into humid gloom, and the sheep that had been quietly grazing were revealed as redcaps, feasting on the corpses of their victims.

Karlach’s eyes almost bugged out of her skull, raising her greataxe in preparation for a fight.

“Ignore them,” you waved at her. “They think we still see sheep.”

She nodded gravely.

The group continued through the putrid haze of the bog, avoiding the redcaps and picking through half-rotted remains for loot, when they happened upon a man fletching crossbow bolts. Astarion smelled him before he saw him, and a flare of panic shot through him.

The Gur.

He watched you wrinkle your nose as you called out in greeting.

“Ah, stranger!” the man called back, noticing your sour expression. “Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine, an old hunter’s trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.”

Against his better judgment, Astarion piped up, “You’re a monster hunter? I’m surprised - I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats.” 

He sneered at the man in front of him, no doubt an errand boy for Cazador, meant to drag him back for judgment at his master’s mercy. What were the odds, a lone Gur hunter this far from Baldur’s Gate? It was surely a message meant for him alone.

“Pardon, but who - or what - is a Gur?” you interjected, posture defensive and coiled to spring.

“A mystical and dangerous people who travel the land, never settling in one place,” the man flourished with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure,” he gestured at Astarion.

Astarion fought the urge to bare his fangs.

“I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer,” the man dismissed, “A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I am no witch doctor or cutthroat.”

“So what monster are you hunting, then?” you bit back.

It was as though Astarion couldn’t help but draw the attention back to himself despite all of the warning bells ringing in his ears, his nerves causing him to prattle on.

“Something terrifying, no doubt! Dragon? Cyclops? Kobold?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” the man scoffed, “I’m hunting for a vampire spawn.”

Astarion felt his face fall in panic and caught your subtle glance in his peripheral vision.

I knew it! Just when things were beginning to look up…

“His name is Astarion, but I think he’s gone to ground. I was hoping the hag of these lands could help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price.”

“And when you find this ‘Astarion’? You’ll, what, kill him?” you asked, subtly lowering your stance in preparation for a fight.

“Not this time. My orders are to capture him,” the man replied, eyeing you more warily by the moment.

“Oh, and bring him where, exactly?” Astarion questioned, trying his best to keep the fear from lacing into his words.

“Baldur’s Gate. My people wait for me there.”

“A vampire spawn doesn’t seem worth the hunt. It’s not like he’s a real vampire,” you added, trying to wheedle more information from the Gur hunter.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it,” Astarion snarled, unable to help himself at the slight.

Shut up! You’re going to give yourself away!

Astarion’s fingers twitched, longing to feel the familiar weight of his dagger in hand. His mind was racing, addled with the lingering sensations of dread and rage like so many unwanted hands clawing at him, his skin crawled with it.

The man, taking no apparent notice, continued talking to you.

“He is right, unfortunately. They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage! But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry,” he finished, expression carrying a grave countenance.

Astarion caught your gaze, clearly calculating your next move. Whatever you saw in his face - fear, loathing, fury, he knew not what - made your mind up.

“Interesting, indeed,” you said, holding his eye. “Astarion, what do you think?”

“What? No, it isn’t possible! It’s daylight!” the man exclaimed, looking between you and Astarion.

Astarion ignored the bewildered hunter, a vicious, fanged smile contorting his face as he pulled his dagger.

“I think the hunter has become the hunted,” he growled, and then lunged at the Gur, plunging his dagger hard into the man’s throat.

Karlach gave a great shout of indignation, and Shadowheart gasped in surprise. You, however, did nothing more than cross your arms over your chest, mouth set in a grim line.

With no reaction time to reach for his crossbow, the man stumbled back, pawing weakly at the blade protruding from his neck. A bright scarlet stain spread across the front of his worn doublet, and with a final anguished gurgle, he collapsed into the muck.

“What in the Nine Hells did you do that for!” Karlach screeched at him.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words that came were not his.

“He was a threat to our own. He had to be neutralized.”

Astarion looked up at you shrewdly, scrutinizing you for any deception, but found none. Neither did he find any betrayal of disgust or fear in your expression, only wry determination to protect your companions above all else.

“The deed’s done,” you said with an air of finality, looking down at Astarion crouched by the body of the fallen hunter wiping his dagger clean. “On we get to find Ethel, no doubt the hag the hunter spoke of.”

The rest of the group grumbled their assent and started moving, but Astarion was held firmly in place by the look in your eyes. A new kind of anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach.

He could read the many questions held in that one look, and he knew the time had come for further explanation once you regrouped at camp later that night.

[magicalgoblinz]

One Thing

Summary: You did it. Cazador's dead and now... Astarion is finding himself working through some big emotions. Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Word Count: 3.5 k Warnings: General angst, eluding to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Possibly ooc Astarion. Quickly edited. Song Recommendation: Never Let Me Go + Florence and the Machine Author's Note: First thing I've ever written for Astarion but I get the feeling it won't be the last. I really genuinely just wanted to get this idea out of my brain even if it's a bit strange and not all that amazing haha.

It had been a long day. Perhaps one of the longest you and your party had endured yet, or... at least it felt that way. It wasn't hard on your body like the goblin fight had been, nor had it been arcanely exhaustive like chasing that damned hag was. No, standing in the halls of Cazador's palace brought a different type of exhaustion. Passing through the spaces that your lover had once stalked attempting to go unseen by his master, seeing the sights of the spaces he was kept, smelling the decay, the putridness that no doubt lingered in the meals he was forced to partake in.

Every sight, smell, and sound you had come across weighed heavily on you. Even now as you sat in the plush comfort that was Elfsong Inn, freshly washed, the scents lingered in your nose and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You pushed around the hastily prepared hash in your bowl, frown bared for everyone to see. Your thoughts were only for him. Every second of silence you could hear his sobs in that moment. The cries pulled from his very core, the kind of cries you could imagine he had dreamed of releasing for so long through every moment of torture he was subjected to. There was no way to imagine all of the atrocities he had suffered, yet somehow being left with nothing made every idea that flitted past your mind's eye so much worse.

You for so long had wished to weep for him. Weep for the time he had lost. Weep for the pain he must have felt in having to stand on the outside wondering if his family and friends ever thought of him again after he passed on. Weep for the crushed hopes for the future he had at one time had.

But what good would your tears do him now?

Cazador was dead.

And more importantly... Astarion was free.

So why did it all still feel so... excruciatingly heavy?

"Ts'ka --- eat and do not play. You need your strength for tomorrow." Lae'zel pushed from her lounging position on the floor.

"Have some heart, Lae'zel. It’s been a very difficult day." Wyll was quick to defend upon seeing the way your expression soured at the thought of eating. "Y/n, had to assist our resident vampire through some very hard things today. Including walking through where he had been kept prisoner. Imagine having to do the same with your lover." He said with a gesture towards Lae'zel.

"If I had a lover they would be able to care for themselves; it would be the first thing I looked for in a mate. A prowess to stay alive in battle like my own is the only thing that is truly attractive." Lae'zel said with a lifted chin.

Wyll's lips parted as if to say something more but began to shake his head, there was no fighting with La'zel. She didn't dig her heels in when it came to opinions, no her entire feet were buried. "Speaking of Astarion, where is he?" He eventually asked, changing the focus of the conversation.

"I believe he went for a bath." Shadowheart interjected, "He said something about not being able to stand having his beauty mired... you know how he is." She said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl with a small wave of her spoon that was held in delicate fingers.

Her saying this seemed to pull your eyes towards the door of the wash room. It had been a while since he left now that you thought about it. Your brows lowered a bit in thought; Astarion deserved his space right now, but you still couldn't help but want to hold his hand and not let it go after everything that had happened today. Maybe he wouldn't want that though, not with what you did today.

That look in his eyes...

Now that he had the time to actually think about what you did, what you talked him into doing; would he feel betrayed?

You had promised him you'd help him get that power he so desired, but when that chance came you changed your mind.

The idea of Astarion no longer trusting you hurt more than imagining him ending whatever it was the two of you had. The worries made your expression sullen even more, looking down at your bowl with a deeper pit growing in your stomach. Did you really want to find out?

Out of the blue, there is a light nudge to your arm. The little touch is enough to pull you back up from your descent into grieving something you hadn't even lost yet. With a glance to your right you find Karlach with a bottle outstretched to you. "I think we could all use a little drink tonight... but especially Astarion." She said warmly, "Perhaps you should see if he wants some?" She continued with a little jerk of her head towards the closed doors. Her tone made it all to clear that your inner turmoil was written out on your face for everyone to see.

A sigh escaped your throat as you debated on whether or not that was a good idea but the way Karlach began to lazily swing the bottle back and forth with her hand triggered something in your mind that made you reach out and take it in one smooth movement.

It couldn't hurt to check in on him?

Could it?

Astarion's head was rested back, hanging over the edge of the bath he sat in. The water had lost the majority of its warmth, and his hand had pruned but he made no movements to get out. Eyes transfixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace at the side of the room. Every twist of orange and lift of a spark made his mind lurch through another memory; they all seemed to be coming back to him now, one by one. His mind shuddered from the thought of a blade pressed into his skin, carving, etching, his skin becoming the canvas for a dastardly design that he wouldn't understand for years.

Funnily, the recollection of pain wasn't what bothered him. It was having to recall his own voice struggling not to escape his lips throughout the entire gut-wrenching experience that made his hand ball into a fist.

With a pop and crackle of the wood Astarion's memories would carry on to something else.

His ears ringing, echoing the silence of that tomb. Gods above that tomb. That year spent in silence. Those months spent starving. The way his hands bled from trying ever so desperately to escape. Over what...? A boy that he couldn't bear to steal the life away from.

Astarion took in a sharp breath as he tried to shake away the thought, as he sat up.

But still the memories continued to bleed through. The faces of all those people he had brought to Cazador, he could see them in his mind's eye. The memories of bedding some of them, cycling through his head in a complete sequence even though they were spread across centuries. A flash of a young human woman who excitedly spun in a brand new red dress that she was ever so excited to show off. The pale blue of a nervous elf man's eyes as they darted around the room the second Astarion approached. Seeing the tattoos and the scars spread across the back of a dwarven sailor who stretched after returning to the mainland after a long voyage. The shine of a coy tiefling woman's smile as she attempted to steal his coin purse from his pocket. So many lives, so many people. At what point did he begin to stop caring? Who was it that he pulled by the wrist back to a dreary room that made him start drifting away any time he had to become intimate? Or was it any of them at all?

His features twisted into an expression of disgust the second his mind started going down that path. There was no amount of Cazador being dead that made those memories better. In a snap his balled up hands lifted to rub his eyes in annoyance. If only Astarion could wash out his eyes and his mind and start anew. If only.

And to think... he had wanted this for so long.

He had dreamt about the day he'd be able to have the cathartic feeling of stabbing Cazador, again, and again, and again. And now that it had come and gone... he wished he could have kept going forever. Fuck, he wished he had. After everything Cazador had done to him, the bastard deserved so much worse than to bleed out on that cold floor. He deserved to suffer just as much as Astarion had, if not more.

Astarion couldn't help but wish that he had ignored everyone and continued the ritual as a perfect slap in the face to Cazador. Continued that ritual, so for the first time in all these years... he'd be safe. Entirely safe. And the loss of that made his chest ache, he was so close to crying all over again.

But then...

Tap, tap, tap

"Astarion," Your voice started from just beyond the doors. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just um... wanted to check in. Karlach thought you might need a drink."

There was you.

Astarion's head lifted from his hands as he took in a deep breath. He tried to shove all those emotions back down again, to put the cork back in the bottle before they could really bleed out into him properly. His gaze lingering on the door, lips unmoving.

"Didn't you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed, Astarion." You had said with a look of sincere terror in your eyes. The look wasn't foreign to him... but perhaps different? People had been scared of him before, oh people had been terrified once they realized what he was. But just how many people had been scared for him? That... he didn't know.

He couldn't remember his exact words in reply now, the tension and adrenaline leaving them in a silent part of his mind but what he did recall was the way you looked at him. It stung. It stung so much more than the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that you were breaking your promise.

You promised to help him ascend. You swore you would help him ascend. You said---

Gods that look. Astarion couldn’t shake it.

The way your eyes seemed to plead with him before you had even opened your mouth. Begging him to reconsider. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't." Your voice was so gentle, but still so desperate. "This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador. Is that really what you want?"

You were right, as much as he hated it. You were always right.

But more than that. As he thought about it now, he recognized something that he hadn't in that moment...

Just outside the door you stood listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Your thumb fumbled with the cork of the bottle nervously. This was a bad idea wasn't it? He needed more time. This was too soon to try and come see him. Gods... what if he really did hate you for what you did. You started to shake your head, "...I'm going to take that as a no. I'll um..." you started lightly, trying not to have your worry show through in your words. "I'm sorry again for interrupting. I'll see you when you're finished, my darling."

Once more. You wanted to call him that one more time before he had a chance to break things off.

"Come in."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen ever so slightly, hand moving to the handle before cautiously pushing the door open and poking your head in. From this angle you could see Astarion's side profile, the good majority of the grime and blood from the day having been washed away, though his clothes that sat off to the side on a bench, were stained a deep red that would take ages to remove, if it ever came out at all. His eyes soon looked your way tiredly. As an instinct you quickly held up the bottle you had brought him, no words coming to follow it, they all seemed to have gone into hiding the second his eyes landed on you.

"Are you planning on bringing the bottle here my sweet, or to just... swing it around like an idiot?" He asked in a long drawn out way, a tone that felt like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for you, but at this point in your adventure together the look in his eyes was more than enough to tell you that he was working through something.

You were entirely taken aback by the gentle name used, a little bit of relief seeping into your chest. "Y-you want me to come in?"

"Was that not what I said?"

Your lips parted, deciding not to speak just yet and instead closing the door behind you. "I'm sorry... I just didn't want to overstep with you, you know… washing and all." You said slowly, acting as if you weren’t both adults – who had on more than occasion – slept together.

Even now, even after seeing him at his lowest today, you were still trying to respect whatever boundaries he had. The thought made Astarion close his eyes and let out a soft laugh, "Darling, you've seen me naked before, it's fine." He assured, "Now...please, for the love of gore and everything soaked in blood, can you bring me that bottle."

There was no reluctance now, carrying yourself to his side with ease. As you approached you couldn't help but notice that his hair was still matted thick with blood in places. All this time he clearly had just been lost in his thoughts as much as you expected really. His hand reached up the second you drew near, taking the bottle from your hands greedily, popping the cork and taking a decidedly long drink. Not minding you at all as you reluctantly found a seat on the bench his clothes were rested upon.

The sight of his nose scrunching a bit from the taste of the wine made an ever so small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. It was hard not to recall him making that same face at the tiefling party not so long ago. Vinegar for wine. Would there be a day when the wine you brought him didn't elicit that involuntary response?

Astarion glanced at you from the corner of his eye, "You'd have made an excellent vampire, you know." He said with an amused little grin, all happy to see the confusion cover your features.

"Why is that?"

"Asking to come in, obviously." He joked loosely,

A small laugh left your lips as your eyes drifted to the floor, "I didn't realize that respecting people's privacy was so vampiresque."

"It's not, we're atrociously nosey by nature and well... it's just another fun hindrance to go against that nature I suppose." Astarion spoke in his normal moseying draw. 

"I see..."

There was a breadth of silence between the two of you. A silence that carried the heaviness of the day's events. You knew it needed to be said, but it didn't make it any easier to consider what the exact words were that needed saying. How to broach it? What if he didn’t want to talk about it at all and you misread the situation entirely? You kept glancing his way hoping to have it all come together in your mind like some sort of epiphany, yet he beat you to it.

"I'm not upset with you, darling. You don't have to keep looking at me like that." Astarion spoke suddenly with all the ease in the world.

"You're not?"

"Well,  perhaps I was a little at first. You did go back on your word, after all." Astarion pointed out, eyes now fixed on the bottle in his hand. “I think anyone might be a bit… sour after something like that.”

There was the guilt again. "Astarion... I'm sorry, I---"

"I don't want your apologies." He cut in sharply, finally turning his gaze to look your way.  Despite what his tone may have indicated, his eyes weren't as stern as they normally appeared when he was upset. No, they were instead ever so full of sadness.  "...I-I'm not angry with you. I swear it. But what I don't understand is why I don't feel any fucking better." Astarion said as his voice suddenly sounded so much more fragile. "I... I killed him. I got the revenge I've dreamed about for two-hundred fucking years. The same revenge I begged for the whole year I was locked in that horrid tomb." He hissed, "I took back my life and yet I... I feel like I didn't do enough."

He was cracking. That much you could see.

"I can't help but wonder if I had completed the ceremony if that would have been enough. Enough to rub it in his Gods damned face that I did it." Astarion admitted sternly, lifting his chin as his eyes stayed focused on the bottle still, "Watch this worm take away everything from him like he took everything from me." He mumbled out, the heat leaving his voice for a brief second as all that he was left with was glassy eyes.

"...I-I would have never had to fear anyone or anything ever again..." Astarion uttered through clenched teeth, tears finally breaking free and running down his cheeks one at a time. "...and now it's gone."

Wordlessly you got to your feet, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between you both, leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck in the most comforting hug you could possibly muster. His hand immediately finds your arm, holding it tight as for the second time in your journey, he begins to cry.

Silence seems to be what Astarion needed from you, wailing into the open air as everything he has stuffed away into that bottle comes pouring back out. No apologies. No consoling words. Just for you to hold him, to give him time. His head rests against yours almost as if to ensure that even now, after everything you both had been through, you couldn't see him cry. Perhaps the idea of you seeing it happen twice in a day was too much for him. Or perhaps there was still a festering feeling of weakness that would bubble up if he let you see him cry.

"Oh my sweet, sweet, Astarion." You mumbled holding him tighter than before, listening as his sobs grew softer over the passing moments. 

Waiting. Listening.

Once his frame had stopped shaking you finally raised your voice once more . "...if I could Astarion, I would take away all of the hurt in an instant... but I can't. And I wish you knew just how much it pains me to not be able to." You speak, parting your lips to continue on but pause as you feel a familiar shudder resonate through your mind. He was peering in, confirming the statement for himself it seemed. "The most I can do is promise you something..." you continued on, pretending like you weren't aware of poking around, you had nothing to hide for one key reason…

Gently you pulled back, running your hand from his neck to his chin to tilt his head up. Eyes looking over his tear stained cheeks and then to meet his own shimmering red eyes. "I promise you that, as long as I'm here you will never have to fear anything... or anyone again." You assured, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you wipe away his remaining tears. “Because Astarion… I love you and… I will never let you go.”

The look that fills Astarion's eyes is something that you had only seen once before when you decided to hug him for the first time back in the Shadowlands. It was a look that spoke numbers towards just how frightening the unknown was for him. How terrifying it could be to have someone love you so truly and want nothing in return for the first time in his life.

You feel a rush of surprise followed by so overwhelming, your lips curl into the same smile you gave him then as you had reached out to wrap your arms around him to hold him tight…

You know the feeling even if he can’t say it yet.

Love.

Because that was the thing. Astarion had realized before this that you… well, you were the only good thing that he’s ever had. That he’d do just about anything to keep you safe and ensure that no one dare take you away from him. Yet, strangely he never once considered…

That he might mean just that much to you.

End Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I'd really love to start writing for Astarion more so if you have any ideas send them over <3

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion's s/o avoiding him to prepare a Valentine's Day surprise feasts for him? Nothing angsty however, she just makes up excuses to throw him off.

Astarion x Reader - Valentine's Day

It was official. [Y/N] was avoiding him. And Astarion couldn’t figure out why.

He assumes he’s done something wrong. He just couldn’t figure out what. For all his social graces, charm, and etiquette training to seep in with the noble lords, he still had the incredible knack of saying the wrong things at the wrong time with this group of people. No one seemed to get his biting wit or rapier sharp jabs, usually with their literal counterparts. Except for Shadowheart and Lae'zel, but…that really didn’t add credibility to his argument.

At first, he hadn’t noticed. Astarion wasn’t some puppy that followed them around camp, like that mutt they picked up. He had his own entertainments and [Y/N] had their own business to attend to. It was a lot of work keeping their once neat little conclave turned full blown circus in line, but [Y/N] seemed to manage. Astarion often thought during lost moments that if anyone really wanted to take over the world, they should study and harness whatever power it was they had to keep drawing people into them. Forget the tadpoles. Much less slimy as well.

Still, he wasn’t immune to being ignored. And after a while he started to wonder what could be so important. Not that he was looking for attention. To reiterate, he was not a lost puppy following them around. Astarion was just….curious as to what could have bedazzled their focus so.

Stealthy as a cat, he followed after [Y/N] as the snuck off into the forest around their camp. Their third time out there, if his observations were correct. Silently and cautiously, he followed. Until he felt it was the perfect time to announce himself with an accusatory, “what are you doing out here?” as he stood to make his presence known.

“Gah!” [Y/N] exclaimed in a startled sound. Prone, for a moment in surprise as they turned to face him. Astarion had never seen this expression before. In battle, they were always so fierce and focused. Even when he ‘surprised’ them on one of their early nights together, hungry and asking for more than he probably should have, they still had this spark of defiance & fight about them. But genuine surprise? Now he had to know what was going on.

“I said, what are you doing out here?” He repeated in case they missed it in their shock. “Why are you slinking out here in the middle of the night like some manner of shade? Surely you can’t be coming out here to relieve yourself that many times. Wyll’s cooking isn’t that bad. And why haven’t you talked to me at all today? It’s very rude.” Looking into their eyes, which had softened out of surprise into their usual fair expression, Astarion realized he was scolding them for something he was upset about and took a deep breath before he apologized. “Look…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that...I don’t like secrets darling. So if something is wrong, or if I’ve done something incredibly foolish, just tell me so we can move on from it.”

“….it’s not really a secret…” Astarion arched a brow at their reply, then watched them move to the side to reveal a blanket, candles, and what looked like one of the better bottle of wine they’d abscond with from a pillaged merchant cart they rescued. “It was…more meant to be a surprise. To celebrate.”

Astarion was racking his brain at the moment to think on what they could be celebrating. Of course, every day they were alive, kicking, and not turned into mind flayers seemed a good enough reason to celebrate, but this seemed more formal than that. He tried to think about what it could be and then he suddenly realized. ‘Oh shit’. It was Blessed Hearts Day.

A frivolous feast day where lovers would croon and swoon at one another, give horrible tacky gifts, then drunkenly stumble down the streets to fuck like rabbits, which was probably the only reason it was on the cusp of spring.

Astarion had never paid much attention to it. Besides it being a frivolous holiday, he never had any reason to pay attention to it. Other than the fact that around this time of year he could pull in 2 or 3 victims a week, rather than his usual 1, for Cazador, if he played his cards right. Everyone was searching for love around this time of year, and Astarion was happy to provide.

Well, not happy, but obliging.

Well, not obliging, but amenable.

He never would have thought that someone as steadfast & stalwart as [Y/N] would be interested in something as foolish as Blessed Hearts Day. But, then again, he never asked. So who was the real fool here?

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s alright.” They reply with a smile. And Astarion felt that it was very much not alright. They had given him so much, kept giving him so much, and he continued showing up empty handed at their door. He’d never felt so much like a cad. “This was just something I wanted to do. I’ve never…had someone…to share Blessed Hearts Day with.”

Suddenly he wished for the ground to open up like one of those portals and swallow him up. Astarion couldn’t feel any lower than if he was under Avernus. But then all their hard work would go to waste, and they couldn’t have that.

“Well, it seems we’re in agreement again my dear. I’ve never had someone to truly share the holiday with either. Pawns and playthings, sure. But a true someone,” Astarion stepped closer to press his hand against their cheek, “my someone, well…that will be a new experience for me. It seems every where I turn, you’re always giving me new experiences.”

They seemed pleased by his words. Which was good because that’s all he had at the moment to give them. And his heart. Such as it was.

They spent the evening together under the stars. Talking some, but mostly quiet. Falling into each other’s arms much later and wrapped up in their picnic blanket in the cool grass before the night was over. He still thought it was a frivolous holiday, as he intended to spend everyday reminding [Y/N] how much he loved & how much they had changed him, but he supposed he could see the appeal now.

[whaledenwtf]

Gale Dekarios X Sorcerer!Reader - Spin the Bottle

The Gale girlies of tiktok got their clutches in me and I want him. I already had my hands full with wanting Astarion AND Halsin but now Gale too? I can't believe I've dedicated so much time to PIXELS. Anyways, here's some wizard sex. :)

AO3 LINK: Here Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: Here

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Body Worship ( Female Receiving), Creampie, Oral (Female Receiving), Misuse of the Mage Hand Cantrip (oh yeah), Praise Kink, Spin the Bottle Trope, Angst too!!! Sorry

I try to keep Gale as close to his character as possible but the idea of even entertaining Mystra in the fic for more than half a moment fills me with anger. So I try to only bring her up during the angst.

WORD COUNT: 5325

The last few days... weeks? Have been awful. Ever since you met all your companions in the wreckage of the nautiloid ship (and evidently, the wreckage of any normalcy) you've spent every day exploring the Sword Coast looking for answers and seeking guidance on how to rid yourselves of the tadpole. During the day, the heat is cooled by the breeze of the ocean, but nothing can quell the stress of the band of misfits you find yourself surrounded by.

"We should head to the cre'che. You may be too far gone, too weak, but I need the guidance of Queen Vlaakith." A chorus of groans echo Lae'zel's words.

"All offense, but I do not want a githyanki prodding in my skull." Shadowheart tells her annoyed. You roll your eyes, bracing yourself for the oncoming fight. You've been around them long enough to know that the daily Lae'zel and Shadowheart fight will have to be broken up by you, again. Lae'zel unsheathes her sword and points it towards Shadowheart.

"Just because you are a k'chakhi, doesn't mean (Y/N) can't understand reason." You look around and see everyone look annoyed. Well, almost everyone. Astarion always watches the fights with glee, bright smiles and wicked intentions.

"Excuse me? What did you just call me? I'll make sure Shar punishes you greatly." Shadowheart pulls out her mace. You can already tell this will get bloody. You walk in between them and put your arms out.

"Enough. For gods sake, both of you need to relax. You're both acting unreasonable." You cringe the moment you say those words.

"Unreasonable?!" They both respond, aiming their weapons at you. You roll your eyes, pulling out your staff.

"Point those weapons at me again and I'll make sure to cast a Hold Person so well you'll be stuck here until you transform." Everyone's mouths drop open at your words. You were a sorcerer, usually kind tempered, or you'd like to think so. This has been the tenth time you had to break up a fight between the two in the last three days. It was sickening, and you were at your wits' end. Astarion giggles with glee, clapping his hands at your words. You point your staff at him too.

"I'll cast it on you too-" He pouts at your words, no longer finding the threat fun when it's directed towards him. "Now all of you shut the hells up so we can go find more answers on what to do. No more fighting." Everyone nods silently. You exhale loudly and smile.

"Now let's go." Lae'zel scoffs, sheathing her weapon and bumping Shadowhearts shoulder as she walks past. You turn away and lead the group forward, going towards the Goblin Camp that is holding Arch Druid Halsin captive; the druids in the grove said he may have information on your tadpoles.

"I'm afraid that I cannot heal you. These tadpoles are different, and have magic that even someone as experienced as I cannot remove them." Halsin tells you sadly. The group groans at the tall elf's words. After completely eradicating all the goblins and other beasts in the camp, Halsin is still unable to help.

"However, I was able to track that they are coming from the Shadow Cursed lands, and may be tied to the Moonrise Towers." This was news! Not as good as you were hoping, but its a lead! A start to an otherwise longer journey.

"I appreciate you trying Halsin. Thank you." You tell him quietly. He nods, his hand on your shoulder.

"I should be the one thanking you. You have freed me and explained what Kagha was planning to do to the Emerald Grove-" Astarion cuts off the Druid.

"Yes yes, we get it. We helped. Seems like we did it for no reason." Without turning your gaze away from Halsin, you wack him with your staff. After a loud thump and Astarion's "ow", you smile at the elf.

"No need to thank me, Halsin. Your information will guide us onward." He nods, frowning for a moment.

"Once I get back from ending the Rite of Thorns, I will meet you at your camp and join you on your journey. I hate to ask more of you, but I need assistance with eradicating the Shadow Curse."

"More help?!" Astarion exclaims. You turn around, ready to strike again, but Gale beats you to it. He does you a solid and wacks him upside his head with a large tome. Astarion flinches, complaining about his hair. You smile at Gale in thanks, who winks in response to you before you turn back to Halsin, blushing.

"I'm sure in ridding the curse we may find more information about the parasites." Halsin engulfs you in a hug, and you laugh patting his back.

"Thank you, little one. I will trek to the Grove now. You are more than welcome to join me." You turn to look at all your companions, some of which seem eager to go back to the Grove.

"I think we should, just incase a rampant goblin attacks you again." Halsin chuckles, before letting go of you.

"Then let us make haste."

At the Grove, you watch as Halsin berates Kagha. Afterwards you see Zevlor run up to you.

"We must thank you (Y/N)! We gathered all our gold so we can give you something for your troubles." You watch as the man pulls out a small pouch, filled with everyone's gold. You felt pity, as the need to do good outweighed any reward, especially one so small. You knew taking their gold would leave them only with the clothes on their backs, and the supplies they had.

"Oh Zevlor, I cannot take this from you. Keep it for Baldur's Gate. We are just grateful we were able to help in time." He shakes his head.

"At least let us thank you. We can celebrate at your camp and share our wine and food with you." You ponder this.

"Something to destress may be necessary, lest we hear Lae'zel and Shadowheart fight again." Gale whispers in your ear. Your breath hitches. Ever since you pulled Gale of Waterdeep from the collapsing portal, you've been smitten. Despite his very human nature, his soft brown eyes, beautiful features and prose had caught your attention. He was gorgeous, and your heart yearned for him, mind, body and soul.

"If I have to hear the word cre'che one more time I might gauge my eyes out." You whisper back. He chuckles, the sound warm and it shoots straight to your core. You make your decision.

"I think a celebration with some wine, food and good company would be a great reprise from all the stress. We'll see you at sundown." The group cheers, excited for some wine and relaxation. This seems like the first decision everyone agreed with. You smile at them as Zevlor walks away, telling the tieflings about the celebration.

You were already drunk off the vinegar-like wine, teetering on the edge of consciousness and depravity. You see all your companions scattered across the camp; some entertaining the company of the tieflings, others drinking on their lonesome. This won't do! Your drunk mind exclaims. Before you could act on it, Astarion walks up to you, smirking.

"Well, hello to you sweetheart." You blush at his forwardness. It seems everyday you spend together he gets more bold in his words and touches, but he isn't Gale.

"H-hello Astarion." You tell him, stuttering from your inebriated state. His cold hand meets your arm, and you startle, sobering up momentarily.

"Just a hello? I was hoping for a better form of greeting." You roll your eyes at his theatrics.

"And what would that form of greeting be, my beloved?" You ask him sarcastically. He grins, his fangs glistening in the lowlight of the campfire and lanterns scattered about.

"Perhaps a kiss? Maybe a night, with yours truly? I can make you feel things no man has ever made you feel before~" He grabs your waist and pulls you close.

"No things a man has made me feel before? That's cute, but won't work on me." You tell him, slapping the side of his face as though he were a child.

"Won't work? Darling, it's true! I will make you crave my touch~" He whispers to you. You laugh in his face, and he frowns at your response.

"You should go into comedy with such jokes!" He lets go of you and pouts.

"You're no fun." You smirk at his words.

"Oh I'm plenty of fun. You're just not my type." He is taken aback.

"I'm everyone's type, sweetheart. You're just lying to yourself- or your standards are quite low." You really can't entertain his theatrics any longer, your eyes already looking around for Gale.

"Alright Astarion. As lovely as this conversation was, I've got to go." You pull away from him, spotting the wizard near his tent, a glass of wine in one hand and tome in the other. You rush towards him, before your journey is cut off by Karlach.

"H-hey soldier!" You smile at the tiefling.

"Hi Karlach. Are you enjoying yourself?" She nods, her body swaying.

"Of course! Between my engine sort-of working for now, and the booze, I'm on cloud nine!" She tells you, spinning in place. You giggle at her theatrics, before stabilizing her when she gets too dizzy.

"I was thinking of playing spin the bottle! Now that I can't burn people it would be fun to play-" She gives you puppy dog eyes. You feel bad for Karlach, you really do. A victim to Zariel, and now to her infernal engine, you can tell she just wants to be hugged and loved. You hug her, grinning. She grips you back tightly, sighing into your arms.

"Let's gather the others! Can't wait for the inevitable Lae'zel and Shadowheart kiss." You both laugh. You let go of each other and rally the others. You manage to get Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion to join you near the campfire. Even Halsin decides to join, after you ask him sweetly. You're all sitting in a circle, with Halsin to your left and Astarion on your right. Gale is sitting directly infront of you, and you catch his gaze more than once. You decide that if anyone asks, the blush is not from the handsome wizard, but the booze. Yeah that'll work, you think to yourself.

"Can't wait to kiss you, sweetheart." Astarion tells you. You roll your eyes, taking a sip of a new bottle of wine.

"Get in line, fangs." Karlach tells him, smirking at you. You laugh at her words.

"Alright, alright. Let's get to kissing!" You smirk at everyone. After a minute of downing the bottle in your hand, you empty it and put it in the center of the circle.

"Now that little alchy finished drinking, who wants to spin first?" Astarion speaks up, smirking at your companions. With enthusiasm, Karlach shouts.

"ME ME ME!" You chuckle at her reaction, and give her the go-ahead. You watch her buzzing in her seat as she spins the bottle. It does one, two, three spins before landing on Wyll. They look at eachother, eyes wide.

"Oh shit-" Karlach whispers. The whole circle starts chanting, and after a minute of tense stillness they kiss. You all cheer, laughing and smiling. Then they don't let go, still kissing. The cheering gets louder,

"Oh gods, split it up." Astarion says, fake gagging. They split, gasping. Both of them are blushing, and you smirk.

"Had fun?" You tease them. They look away from each other, realizing the implications of their kiss.

"Alright, now Wyll's gotta spin!" You tell them, grinning. Wyll shuffles closer to the bottle, watching it spin until it lands on Halsin. You gasp, before cheering. Their kiss was quick, but you could tell Halsin was in control. He chuckles as they part, and Wyll sits back down. Halsin spins the bottle, and it spins for a solid ten seconds until it lands on Shadowheart.

"Now this will be interesting." Astarion whispers into your ear. You giggle into your hand, nodding. Your eyes split from Halsin and Shadowheart to see Gale watching you and Astarion's closeness with a frown. Before you could give him a look, you hear cheering. Your eyes glance back at Halsin, who pulls Shadowheart onto his lap and grips her tightly as they are kissing. Your eyes widen, lips parting.

"Oh." After a minute, they split, panting. Shadowheart stands from his lap, her legs left unstable from the powerful kiss. She fans herself for a second before spinning the bottle. It barely does a full turn before it lands on Lae'zel. You start laughing loudly.

"Absolutely not." She says loudly, already reaching for the bottle.

"Hey! No respins!" Karlach says, eyebrows furrowed. Shadowheart huffs. Lae'zel hasn't spoken up, just watching Shadowheart's plight with a grin.

"Fine. But watch yourself, githyanki. I will not hesitate to end you if there's any funny business." Lae'zel rolls her eyes, before pulling Shadowheart into a passionate kiss. Everyone's jaws drop as they kiss, all their verbal fights (and some physical, mind you) seemingly have turned into sexual tension. Lae'zel pulls Shadowheart into her, before pushing her under her. After hearing someone moan, you decide to cut it out.

"Okay, stop! Holy hells, if you're gonna do that do it in the privacy of your own damn tent." You tell them, grimacing at the sounds coming from them. Without a word, Lae'zel picks up Shadowheart and walks away from the circle. You guffaw, before turning back to the other companions, eyes wide.

"Um-" Astarion cuts you off, smirking.

"Alright! Since they left its my turn!" He claps, before spinning the bottle. It lands on you, and you groan.

"Come here, sweetheart." He whispers. As he closes his eyes, you give him a quick peck and turn away before he could wonder what happened.

"That was hardly a kiss!" He shouts, crossing his arms.

"Oh, boo hoo Astarion." You tell him, laughing. You spin the bottle. It does one, two, three, four turns, before it lands on the object of your attentions. Gale's eyes widen, and he freezes up.

"Pucker up wizard, it'll be done before you know it." Astarion sulks from beside you. You crawl towards him, blush deepening. When you get into his personal space, you sit down on your haunches and get comfortable. His hand goes to the side of your face, while the other goes to your waist. Your arms wrap around his neck and you meet in the middle.

This kiss was unlike any other you had in your life. The world around you disappeared, sounds muffled. All you could feel was Gale and his magical essence. You became tuned to one another, magic flowing freely between you both. His hands move around, the one on your hip going to the small of your back and pulling you closer, as the one that was holding your face goes to the back of your neck to hold you to him. Your lips open when his tongue traces the seam of your lips. Your tongues battle for dominance, and you moan into his mouth. That seems to snap him out of the trance, and he separates from you. You can see his deep blush, and he gets up and runs off. Your eyes follow him, and you furrow your brows.

"If he ran away because of your kissing skills, maybe I should be grateful you only gave me a peck." Astarion says. Your eyes snap back to his.

"My kissing isn't the problem. I'll go check on him." You get up, dusting the dirt off your legs and walking towards his tent. When you turn around, to glance at your companions, you see Karlach and Wyll cheering on Astarion and Halsin as they kiss. You roll your eyes and look forward, going into a jog so you could reach Gale's tent sooner.

When you get to his tent, you cough outside so he can hear you. You hear him mutter a "come in" so you enter slowly. When you enter his tent, your eyes widen. Its larger on the inside, and looks homely. There are towers of tomes and books, some old and some new, and your eyes are taking in the beauty of the bigger-on-the-inside tent that reflects Gale's personality. When your eyes stop wandering, you notice Gale sitting on the edge of his large bed, hands holding his head as he sits dejected.

"I wanted to check in on you." You tell him quietly, walking closer to him. He sighs, and looks up at you.

"I'm sorry-" You reach him in two short strides, and kneel so you are below him. His eyes follow your movements, and you see the sorrow and sadness lurking in his beautiful brown eyes.

"You never need to apologize to me Gale. Are you okay?" You ask him softly. He sighs again, frowning.

"I'm not." He says quietly. You know he's upset, by the succinctness of his words.

"You can always tell me what's wrong. You know I care about you-all of you." You save yourself at the last moment. Now's probably not the time to admit your feelings, especially when he doesn't seem receptive to your advances.

"I'm just-" He exhales loudly. "You're not the issue here, (Y/N). I am. Everything I have done, everything I do, was for her. Now I feel lost, between the bomb inside my chest and the tadpole in my head, I feel as though I have no control over anything." Your hands gently takes one of his, holding him softly.

"You are the most talented wizard I have ever met, Gale of Waterdeep. You have control over everything, more than most of us." He shakes his head, eyes getting misty.

"You're wrong, you know. I have lost favour with my goddess, and have lost control over my emotions it seems. I just ran away from you and you still check in on me. Gale's Folly, I once named my demise. But it seems everything I do adds to my torment, and it affects others." You go to deny him but he cuts you off. He turns to the side, looking in the distance.

"I have always known my purpose, since I was young. Hone my powers, control the weave. Serve my goddess. The universe that was once kind to me has turned against me, against my reverence for Mystra. I was cursed, am cursed. In the deepest darkest shadows of my folly, I met you. A sorcerer who I respect and admire greatly. Now I am destined to lose that too-" You grip his hand tightly.

"You have not lost me yet, Gale." You whisper gently to him. His face snaps back to yours, his eyes searching yours for the truth. All he sees is your honesty and admiration.

"I do not deserve you." He whispers, shedding a tear. You wipe the tear away, holding his face.

"It is I who does not deserve you, Gale. You've been hurt, badly. I would never expect anything from you more than what you are ready to tell me. You must know how important you are to us, to me." He looks down at his lap, pondering.

"I've always felt the need to do anything to serve Mystra. Even sacrifice the deepest parts of myself for her, if she had asked. Many times, she had. But you; you ask nothing more from me. You give without taking, and I don't understand how you think I am deserving of your kindness." He whispers.

"Gale. You are magnificent. I care about you, more than I care for the others. Ever since I pulled you out of that portal I knew that you'd be someone I'd care for. Since then, all I've done is fallen more for you. You don't need to reciprocate any feelings, but you have to know how much someone cares for you- I care for you. You are worth much more than Mystra has ever given you credit for." His eyes snap back to yours, widening at your words.

"I did not realize-" You cut him off gently, the hand on his face squeezing slightly.

"I was afraid to say anything. I understand your trepidation regarding your situation. If I was in your position I would have given up long ago. But please, please do not think for a moment you are not worthy of love. You are kind, good of heart and deserving of more than most of us in camp." He pulls you into a hug. Your arms find themselves around him, squeezing him tightly. Your head finds itself in the crevice of his neck, inhaling his scent of old books and hazelnut; a scent you could only describe as Gale.

"I'm sorry. I do care about you, deeply. I have not felt such a way since Mystra, but sitting here with you now, I have never felt such acceptance and understanding. I'm afraid of what darkness the future holds, but it does not seem as dim if you are there with me." He tells you into your ear. You sigh, nudging your nose deeper into his neck. You leave a soft kiss on the side of his neck before pulling away.

"I'll help you rid yourself of the Netherese Orb, and then the parasite. You are not alone." His hands grip the sides of your face.

"I can never feel alone when I'm with you." He pulls you into a kiss, and the adoration he feels for you translates in the movement of his lips. You kiss him softly, before pulling away.

"I do not want to take advantage of you when you are feeling so low." You gaze at him, admiring his looks. His eyes, long dried from the tears, shine in the light of his tent.

"I want to be here with you. No advantages are being taken. Please-" He pleads, begging for you. You bite your lip, and his eyes follow the action. He rushes forward, sliding off the side of the bed and kneels in front of you. He pulls you into a kiss, desperation and need coursing through his blood. You moan against his soft lips, all worries and fears dissipating into the night air. He pulls away from you, panting.

"Those sounds... You're entire being... No magic can compare to your beauty." He whispers, his breath fanning against your lips. You blush under his gaze and words, unable to reply.

"I want to show you my love the way gods do, please let me." He tells you against your lips, kissing you again. Your hands cradle his neck, thumbs trailing up and down the column. You pull away again, shaking your head.

"I don't need magic, or gods. Not when I have you right here infront of me." He pulls away, a deep blush on his face. You notice that it goes down his neck, reaching his chest; as well as the tips of his ears, which are also tinged crimson at your words.

"Are you sure? I can make you feel things, see things.... experience things beyond your wildest imaginations-" You cut him off, pouting.

"You already make me feel those things, Gale. Can't I have the man in front of me? I am no goddess, and you needn't seek my approval. You already have it." He nods, before taking your hands and pushing you forward so you're laying against the floor. His fingers link with yours and pull them above your head. You're panting, breasts heaving and grazing his own chest. His gaze trails from your features down to your neck, then further down to your chest.

"Gods. Seeing you in such a state makes me reconsider if I am truly cursed. You're ambrosial." His face goes to your neck, peppering kisses and licks up and down. You moan again, your arousal climbing higher. Your hips begin to grind the air, praying for solace, pleading for his touch. He bites down on you, blunt teeth tickling your skin. You gasp out, back arching so your bodies are fully touching.

"Please, please Gale." You whimper, eyes closed and lips parted.

"What do you need, my love?" He asks you huskily, still licking and kissing your neck.

"I need you." You wail out, eyes watering from his teasing.

"Not as much as I need you, my sweet." With a wave of his hand, both your clothes dissipate. His eyes wander, admiring your body. Your hands go to his chest, caressing the hair there. For a moment, your fingers hover over the tattoo, before touching it with such gentleness. He exhales at your touch, eyes closing while your hands wander. Your hands go to his shoulders where they caress the tense muscle there. He smiles before opening his eyes, adoration shining in them.

"You are a goddess." You squirm under his words, blushing deeply. His hands start to caress the sides of your torso, going up to your breasts. His thumbs start rubbing against your peaks, the rough texture of his fingers making you whimper. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, as you look at him pleadingly.

"Gale, don't tease me." His eyes glace up to your face, as he lowers himself closer to your chest.

"Don't worry my sweet sorcerer, I'll make sure this night is magical." His lips take in one of your nipples, as he begins to suck and bite. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. As he worships your nipple, his other hand begins to play roughly with the other one. His empty hand waves, and a mage hand appears and takes both your wrists in its mystical grasp, placing them above your head like Gale had done moments before. He moves to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

You whimper under his actions, panting and arching into him. One of his hands trails down to the apex of your thighs, and begins to caress your core. You exhale loudly through your nose as you bite your lip, groaning. He comes off of your chest with a pop! and grins at you.

"My sweet, are you this wet for me? Can't wait to spread you open and taste you for myself-" His hands spread your legs as far as you can go, as he lowers down. You feel his breathe on your core. For a moment, nothing happens, but then he summons two more mage hands to hold your thighs open as he begins to taste you.

His tongue licks the side of your thighs, as he places open mouthed kisses on your hot skin. He does this for a minute, just worshipping your skin, and then he licks up your core. He moans into you as he tastes your slick, eyes closing.

"Ambrosial, just as I suspected-" He opens his eyes and looks at you as you watch him attentively. "I can't wait to taste you until I bring you to other planes of existence." He attacks your pussy with fervor, licking and prodding at you. His ambidextrous tongue works wonders on you, he spreads you open further with his fingers, as he brings his tongue into you. You gasp at the intrusion, hands struggling against the grip of the mage hand, wishing to push him further into you. As he continues to taste you, his concentration wavers and the mage hands dissipate. Your hands latch into his dark curly locks, tugging at him as you continuously plea don't stop. He chuckles into your skin, as he pulls away.

"I won't stop worshipping you until the end of the night, my beloved. I promised you magic, and you'll take it like a good girl." You whimper at his words, slick leaving you. He licks it up from the source, moaning into your skin. As he goes to take your clit into his mouth, two of his thick fingers caress at your entrance before going in to the hilt and curling upwards. You caterwaul at the attention, hands gripping his locks tighter. He licks and sucks at your clit, fingers pistoning in and out of you. You feel your nirvana quickly approaching.

"G-Gale I'm close, so so close. Please-" You beg him, eyes closed. He hums against your clit as he curls his fingers curve upwards. You've hit your peak, back arching into the sky and thighs tightening against his head. You see explosions of colours behind your eyelids, and your body is weightless for many moments. As you come back from your high, you open your eyes to see Gale admiring your face; his fingers lazily pumping into you. You clench around his fingers as you pant, eyes still unfocused.

"O-oh-" You whisper, head hitting the floor as you close your eyes to try to get your bearings. Gale chuckles at you as he removes his fingers from you, tasting your spend on his skin. As your breathing gets back to normal, you open your eyes again to gaze at Gale.

"I want to please you-" He cuts you off, picking you up off the floor with relative ease and depositing you onto the bed.

"If you do that I know I will not be able to please you as long as I'd like." He tells you honestly as he licks his lips. You surge forward, capturing his mouth against yours. You can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it excites you further. Your legs lock around his waist and pull him into you, his cockhead bumping into your clit. You split from each other, admiring one another.

"Take what you want from me, Gale of Waterdeep." He moans at your words, and grasps his cock in his hand.

"You don't know how you affect me, (Y/N). Your words, your scent, your taste. I can't wait to take you and make you mine." As he speaks, he thrusts into you in one quick motion, bottoming out inside of you. You both gasp, the connection unlike any other you had ever experienced in your life.

"Please make me yours Gale. I'll be anything you want, do anything you want. Just make me yours." He begins to thrust into you, his pace rough and deep. He continues to hit that spot, and you feel your orgasm coming again.

"I'm s-so close." You whisper into his ear, kissing the side of his face. He turns and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. He pulls your legs over his shoulders, and you feel his tip kiss your cervix. You gasp against his lips, panting.

"That's right, sweetheart. Let go-" His words bring you to your crest, and you babble as your brain short circuits. As you reach your peak, he does as well, moaning out your name against the column of your neck. His hips stutter to a stop as he releases inside of you, the clenching of your pussy too much for him. He collapses onto you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings to you. After a moment, you pull him into a gentle kiss, savouring the moment with him.

"You are perfect." He whispers to you as you part. Your hand caresses the side of his face.

"You are the perfect one. I hope I can spend the rest of this journey reminding you." You tell him softly. He closes his eyes, smiling at your words.

"How can I ever consider myself less than when I am in your embrace?" You blush, pulling him into a hug. After a moment, he gets up, getting a cloth to clean your mixed spend from between your thighs. Once he deems you clean, he lays back down next to you. You spend the rest of the night cuddling, hushed words of love and appreciation to one another.

The End.

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Evergreen: Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of "Evergreen".

The tension between you and Astarion is starting to come to a boiling point, with the first night in camp setting off what seems to be a rocky start to your relationship.

Read Chapter 1 here

Pairings: Astarion x female reader (named "Atriss", but still using "you" because the thought of Y/N makes me cringe)

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Not proofread we post like men aka fix shit after it's been posted. The entire story is 18+ so MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 1.83K

A/N: This chapter is definitely a bit of a set-up chapter, so apologies if it is feeling a bit slow. However, things will begin to pick up...promise!

After having gotten supplies from the traders inside of the Grove, you and the other companions decided to set up camp right outside the gate - far enough away where your group could have some privacy, but close enough where you could come to their aid if goblins decided to attack them again.

"And then out of nowhere, bam! The Blade of Frontiers! With a flourish of that decadently beautiful rapier, the goblins had no idea what hit them!" Gale exclaimed, recounting the story of how Wyll came to join the group. Much to Wyll's embarrassment, Gale detailed his entrance while the other companions had stumbled upon the Grove and immediately decided to help.

"I was actually hunting Karlach, if you can believe it," Wyll said, tearing a piece of bread off from his dinner, "I was told she was a certain dangerous devil, but it obviously couldn't have been further from the truth."

"Can you believe it? Me!" Karlach laughed, "Quite the opposite, really." Thoughtfully, she took a sip of her wine from the bottle she was holding, "Unless you piss me off. Then you're fucked."

You chuckled with the rest of the companions, falling into a routine with them (from a safe distance). Unsure of how much you could actually trust all of them, you decided at least to have a good time with them while they drank and joked. Gale had made dinner - roasted pig and bread he had procured from the Grove - and Karlach had sweettalked her way into getting a few bottles of wine from a local trader inside. Now, as the night had fallen, you all shared stories around the campfire before you all headed to bed.

"First things first for tomorrow - we get up early, possibly daybreak. We need to leave at a decent hour so we can get to the Goblin camp by the latest, two days from now." Wyll said, jumping into fighting tactics and how we should go about infiltrating their base. Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seat, excited about the thought of fighting for the Tieflings.

Everyone, except Astarion.

He was leaning against a nearby tree, swirling the wine in his glass. He had neglected a plate of dinner, and currently had a look on his face that could only be read as "annoyed".

"Do you have another plan, Astarion? A better one, perhaps?" You asked, calling him out.

Astarion's head jerked up slightly, his mind finally joining the conversation with the rest of the party. He swirled the wine again slowly and took a sip, smacking his lips once he was done for some sort of emphasis.

"I just think..." He started, walking closer to the group, "That this isn't our responsibility, so why are we even bothering?" His foppish way of speaking - with his hand flourishes, and lyrical mannerisms - were charismatic for a while. But once you realized how selfish he really was, you recognized that he truly was just starting to get on your nerves. "If it were up to me, I'd say we just try and find whomever can help us rid these parasites, and move on with our lives."

"I agree with the elf," Lae'zel spoke, causing everyone to turn our heads, "We must seek clearance of these parasites at once. We need to get ourselves to a creche before long - who knows how long it will take for us to finally turn into those disgusting mind flayers."

"And, if you remember," Gale spoke, causing everyone else to silence, "This Halsin character has said to have information against these ilithid tadpoles. So, it is in our best interest to find him in the goblin camp - and not only for us, but for the tieflings, as well."

Astarion's eyes narrowed at you, making it a point to not look away. He sipped his wine and you smirked at him, trying to assert dominance. You may be kind, but you were no fool. And you knew many men like Astarion - handsome, charismatic men who used their knowledge and charm to get their way.

And it wouldn't work on you.

"So, if that is the only problem that has arisen amongst us, I say we clear our dishes and head to bed. Who is willing to take first watch?" Gale asked, standing with his plate and goblet.

"I will." Astarion said instantly, downing the rest of his wine. You eyed him as he stood up, almost eager to be first watch. Curious.

Or suspicious.

"Great!" Gale clapped his hands and made his way to the bucket of water on the edge of camp to wash his plate. "I will take the second half, then! A little earlier-than-normal wake-up never hurt anyone!"

You watched Astarion smirk as he rest against the tree again. You didn't know why, but you knew something was up with him - why did he volunteer for first watch, during their first night at camp? Was it a defensive tactic, possibly to sus us out?

You washed your plate and brought it back to your tent, getting settled in your sleeping clothes. You were going to find out what the story was with him, one way or another.

After 30 more minutes, everyone had settled into their tents for the evening. Silently, you undid the front to your tent, ready to leave at any moment. Once you recognized Shadowheart's lantern to go out - the last light on in camp - you snuck out of your tent.

Across the camp, Astarion stayed put against the tree he had claimed earlier. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you watched him pause a few moments before checking around the camp to ensure everyone was sleeping. Once he thought he was alone, he darted into the woods.

Immediately leaving the rest of the party at camp vulnerable to attack.

"That son of a bitch..." You breathed, stalking into the woods behind him. You moved as quietly as possible, hoping to catch the sound of his running.

Nothing but silence met your ears.

Where did he go? You thought, moving in the general direction of where he sped off to. After a few minutes, you still couldn't find him. Frustrated, you groaned quietly, resting against a rock. Nothing but crickets answered your thought, causing you to grow annoyed.

Deciding to head back to camp, you started your journey back. There was no sense in trying to make enemies on your first night. You thought, trying to subdue the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Suddenly, a hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back.

"And where, may I ask, are you going?" Astarion purred into your ear. You gasped and turned to him, his eyes gleaming against the moonlight. The former nagging feeling in the back of your mind turned into full blown suspicion.

There goes the whole "try not to make enemies on the first night".

"I should be asking you the same thing, First Watch." You coolly replied, flaring your nostrils, "Any particular reason why you left camp almost immediately after starting your first watch?"

"My dear, were you watching me?" Astarion's voice was still light - flirty, almost - even though you recognized that he was trying to get information out of you. He smirked.

"Answer the question, Astarion. Unless you have something to hide.” You retorted, crossing your arms. Trying to send a message – you were not one to be fucked with.

Astarion’s smirk faltered only slightly – if you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have even noticed. He shifted his weight on his feet, tilting his head to the side. He was studying you…trying to figure out what to say next, how to proceed. You were making him sweat a bit, it seemed.

Good.

“Come now, darling, is this really how you’d like our relationship to start off?” His smirk was plastered back on his face again, his showmanship back to the front. “Starting on a bad note instead of good one? Think of all the fun we could have,” His voice was low, husky. He was trying to charm his way out of it, “And believe me, I know a thing or two about fun.”

You rolled you eyes, “Enough, Astarion. You don’t want to tell me why you decided to leave the camp vulnerable to attack approximately 30 seconds after you started first watch? Fine, by all means, don’t tell me,” You stepped closer to him, pointing a finger in his face, “But just know that I don’t trust you. Your charming act doesn’t fool me…you’re only looking out for yourself. Don’t come crawling to me when you need something, alright?”

“Oh, the dramatics from you!” Astarion huffed, laughing loudly, “And that’s saying something coming from me.”

“With the situation we’re in right now, I have no choice but to be cautious. And so far, you’re not making a good name for yourself,” You paused, taking him in. His eyes, though guilty, were also glittering. “Our lives are in each other’s hands, and if you prove yourself to be unworthy of that, I’d rather know sooner rather than later.”

“Oh fine,” Astarion said, finally seeming to give up, “If you want to throw a temper tantrum because I heard something in the woods, and decided to investigate – you know, the whole purpose of a first watch – then so be it. I’m not in the market to convince you,” He waved his hands as if to dismiss you, “Go off. Back to camp with you. You were so hasty to leave, after all.”

You narrowed your eyes – was he really coming to the woods to investigate? Something about his alibi seemed off – something wasn’t quite right. Without another word, you marched back to camp, you heart thundering. Not only because you were second-guessing yourself, but also because you had a feeling Astarion was hiding something from you.

Not just you, but the entire party.

You finally reached your tent and started to untie the straps holding the entrance together. As you quickly did your work, you noticed out the corner of your eye that Astarion was slowly walking back into camp, his eyes watching you. Once you finally undid the flaps, you stood and looked at him, holding his gaze. After a few moments, he smirked.

He was making sure you were going back into your tent.

To make sure he could get away with whatever he was doing.

You held his gaze for a moment more before slipping into your tent, a cold sweat breaking out onto your brow. You located your dagger on the floor of your tent and quickly slipped it under the pillow on your bedroll. You sighed heavily and pulled the blanket to your chin, your mind ablaze with the conversation with Astarion. You shut your eyes and willed for sleep unsuccessfully, tossing and turning for the next few hours.

You had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

---

Thank you all so much for reading! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes mean a ton to me, and helps me know if you want me to keep going with this!

[fandomnerd9602]

Karlach X Male Reader when the party finds out their might be something that could help karlach being able to touch Reader and not get hurt they turn to speak to Reader but find his not with them he left the moment he heard about it

Shadowheart: has anyone seen Y/N?

Gale: i saw him booking it out of the area as soon as you mentioned the artifact-oh

Lae'zel: he went out on his own?!

Shadowheart: Love knows no bounds.

Karlach: where's my Y/N?

Gale: heading out on a quest to touch you

Karlach: what?

[gaytav]

My Wound, There's No Cure

Pair: Lae'zel x Fem!Reader

Description: "How do you cure a wound when there's no cure to it?"

Words: 460

P.s: So sorry if it's not that great loves, but I wanted to post something today hihi

"At that moment, she found herself taking refuge in her beloved's tent... but she still felt the cold... the present emptiness, sitting by her side watching the Githyanki reminisce about what life was like when Y/n was still here. - It's so cold and dark without you here, my love, my wound...

Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered your death, she just wanted to close her eyes and make this nightmare end. Who would have ever imagined that the strong and fearless warrior Lae'zel would be sitting on the ground with a Y/n's shirt in her arms while tears streamed down endlessly.

She no longer cared about it, not anymore, it doesn't make sense anymore, nothing makes sense after your departure. - Oh my wound, you had healed and scarred my old wound that bled endlessly and tried to take away all my strength, you made me someone... better... but... but now I have a huge hole in my chest, my heart was taken from me without permission on the day I saw the life leave your eyes, when I felt the fever of your skin leave and all that was left was the freezing cold...

Her voice faltered at the end, her tears turned into heavy sobs, she bent over on the ground, resting her forehead on the ground and held Y/n's shirt close to her nose, remembering its sweet smell, trying to hold onto those memories, the memories of your laughter, your promises, of your love and how painful it was to feel the emptiness in her chest, the place you occupied.

Lae'zel let out a cry of pain, desperation, loss from the depths of her chest, and lying there on the ground was where Shadowheart found her and it was there where the half-elf lay down pulling the Githyanki into her arms, and there she remained silent because she knew the warrior needed to release that, this pain in her chest, she didn't need to hear pretty lies.

Her eyes, her delicate eyes that always sparkled when she saw you, were filled with fear, despair, Lae'zel wanted to take that look away from you, but it was already too late, she failed to protect the only good thing in her life, she failed to take care of your healing and now her wound will bleed forever until her death... death, hmm doesn't sound so bad... would she have you in her arms again?

- My love, m-my warrior... light of my day... I-I'm sorry... for not fulfilling our... promises... Her breathing was fast, her voice came out with difficulty because of the pain she felt, she held the face of her beloved Lae'zel knowing it would be the last time she would have the opportunity. - I l-love you... don't... forget me... the last thing you saw was the Githyanki's gaze turning into a storm of despair and everything turned dark.

Lae'zel perfectly remembers feeling your last heartbeat and at that moment an incomprehensible pain consumed her, a pain that doesn't leave her even after 2 years this pain doesn't go away, maybe it's her who doesn't let the pain go, maybe because that's the only sensation left for her to feel... at first the party was a mess after your departure, no one expected to lose their leader, the pillar of this suddenly structured framework.

Everyone "improved" in a way, of course they can't help but remember the heroine Y/n was, the heroine who sacrificed her own life for her family... but Lae'zel couldn't find that cure, the only cure she had is gone... forever, how can she improve from this... knowing she'll never see you again... that you'll become a memory and slowly everyone will forget about you... no, she can't do that, she couldn't do that.

That's why every day she finds herself here, in your tent, hugging the dusty cloths from your wardrobe... it was all that was left of you... there's no cure to heal the void you left in her chest..."

[trojanprinceaeneas]

Gale x Trans Masc Reader (Mature)

I have so many in universe head canons as to how hrt and top surgery works in BG3/DnD so if anyone wants separate musings on that alone I’d be happy to explain, but for the sake of this incredibly self indulgent fic, Y/N Tav has top surgery scars and equivalent effects of hrt for trans masc ppl. It was originally supposed to be explicit but I decided I'd test the waters with this and maybe I'll write a part two? Let me know if you're interested in that :p

The camp was particularly lively tonight. Your allies were in high spirits, cheering and passing around bottles of liquor to celebrate their recent victory over Ketheic Thorm and the necromancer god Myrkul. The triumphant atmosphere engulfed the camp, making the impending threat to all of Faerûn feel momentarily distant. Even Lae'zel, who usually found such celebrations frivolous, had a hint of a smile as she sipped her wine.

You leaned back, savoring the moment, and watched your companions enjoy the respite. Tomorrow's problems could wait. But amidst the music and boisterous laughter, you noticed one person was missing—Gale. Your brow furrowed as you wondered where he might have gone. Perhaps he was engrossed in his Weave studies, as he often was.

As you set your goblet down, a different kind of warmth filled you. It was the memory of the tender moments shared under the starry sky, where your lips met his in a passionate kiss, and the world faded into a magical embrace by his design.Your neck prickled with excitement as you thought of the night Gale had shown you the power of the Weave, of the profound connection it created, of the sheer ecstasy you both gave into.

With a longing that mirrored the enchantment of that night, you decided to chase after Gale, eager to see how he was faring on this unusual journey, hoping he might reveal more about the Weave's mysteries, and yearning for the chance to share another intimate moment beneath the infinite tapestry of the cosmos. Perhaps this time, he would be interested in a more physical, grounded pleasure. 

He wasn't far from the camp, just a short distance behind you. You could still make out the faint light of the campfire through the trees, and the occasional burst of laughter echoed in the night. Gale stood there, his back turned toward you, once again immersed in the intricate dance of the Weave. It was nothing as grandiose as the last time, but you did notice something akin to a small-scale meteor shower, as if the very stars were converging at his fingertips. Perhaps this time, he wasn't seeking to impress anyone.

Watching him manipulate the golden threads of magic was like witnessing an artist meticulously craft a masterpiece. Each movement was deliberate, and every detail was attended to with the utmost care. You stood back, admiring him for a brief moment, the soft radiance of the Weave illuminating his face, making him appear more ethereal than ever.

"Are you indulging in a bit of quiet observation?” Gale's voice, gentle yet playful, broke the silence. His focus remained on the Weave.

Your face flushed, embarrassed that you had been caught. "I was worried when I couldn't find you at camp," you admitted, stepping out of the shadows. "I assumed you'd taken a brief respite nearby."

"No need to worry, my intentions were far from dramatic," he replied, waving a hand to dismiss the Weave's projection as he turned to face you. "I simply needed a moment to gather my thoughts, that's all. Would you care to join me?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt anything," you said, approaching him hesitantly. "If you'll have me, I wouldn't mind taking a break from the noise."

"Please," he said with an inviting smile, almost eager, as he motioned for you to sit beside him. He gracefully lowered himself to the ground.

You settled beside him, relishing the chance for a quiet moment alone with Gale. As much as you enjoyed the bustling camp, it could at times feel overwhelming. These solitary moments with the Wizard of Waterdeep were truly treasured, and you were grateful for the opportunity to savor his company in peaceful seclusion.

"I've brought a bottle of wine," you remarked, reaching for your bag with a playful smile. "Unfortunately, there are no glasses, so we'll have to share straight from the bottle." The wine had already left you feeling a bit tipsy after sharing a bottle with the others, so you extended it to him, gesturing for him to take the first sip.

"Of course," he replied, reaching out to accept the bottle from your hand as you presented it to him. He took a long, leisurely sip, savoring the flavor for a moment before glancing at the label. "Ah, you managed to sneak a bottle of that exquisite find from earlier, didn't you?"

"Don't breathe a word of it to the others," you giggled, taking the bottle back and sipping from it yourself. "I wanted to share it with you. We don't get many moments to ourselves, after all."

"I suppose not," he agreed, his eyes softening as he gazed at you, as if he were savoring the sight of you. You felt a warmth rush to your cheeks.

As time passed, the two of you exchanged stories about your lives before the parasite, all while indulging in the bottle of wine. Laughter filled the air between you. Eventually, the topic of past lovers arose.

"So," you began, your words slightly slurred from the wine's effects, "Mystra. Did you engage in that astral projection thing often with her?"

Gale paused for a moment, considering your question. "Yes, I would say so," he replied. "Physical intimacy was... a concern for mortals, you see. Why indulge in such earthly pursuits when we could connect on a more divine level?" Despite the considerable amount of wine he had consumed, his speech remained clear.

"Have you been with mortals?" you asked, your curiosity tinged with a touch of self-consciousness.

"A few, here and there," Gale confessed. "But nothing I'd describe as serious, at least not until Mystra."

"Men?"

"Excuse me?"

"Mortal men," you repeated, your words escaping in a hushed, almost embarrassed tone. You felt a flush of self-consciousness, unsure of how he'd respond.

Gale noticed your sudden shyness and extended his hand, gently resting it on yours as a reassuring gesture. "You're not the first man I've been with," he admitted with a soft smile, "certainly the first to experience the Weave so intimately. The first mortal, in truth."

You appreciated the intimate gesture of his hand atop yours, his touch conveying more than words ever could. But there was another question that had been nagging at you, a curiosity you couldn't shake. You considered whether it was worth asking, knowing that the subject matter was intimate and personal.

The night he had shown you how the gods indulged in pleasure had been unexpected. Normal intimacy wasn't something that typically occurred without a series of conversations and deepening emotional connections. Curiosity, however, had taken hold of you. You didn't regret the experience; in fact, it had left you with a sense of wonder and contentment. Yet, it was undoubtedly a rare occurrence, a spontaneous act that you didn't engage in frequently, if at all.

Then again, you had never experienced intimacy through astral projection before. It had been a unique and exhilarating encounter, one that required little preparation as your clothes had remained on your person.

"Mortal men of the... Trans variety." The words felt almost silly, and the wine, you decided, was the culprit.

"Trans... variety? What do you mean?" Gale furrowed his brow, his expression showing genuine confusion. You kept your gaze on the empty bottle, head swirling with wine and nervousness. He appeared ready to inquire further when realization slowly crept in. "Oh, oh, I see. I didn't, well, it never occurred to me, really. I've never, um, encountered a mortal man of the trans variety, not physically. It's not because I'd find it undesirable, you understand, but rather, it's just... well, it simply hasn't happened. Or maybe I've never met someone who chose to, you know, disclose that aspect. But I want to assure you, it doesn't matter to me in the least." Gale's words tumbled out in a jumble, and his usually precise articulation was marred by a palpable nervousness that you assumed, was induced by the wine.

A moment of silence fell between the two of you, and your stomach stirred with a peculiar blend of uncertainty and wine-induced unease. It wasn't that Gale's response had been unfavorable, but the awkwardness of the moment was palpable. In your attempt to seek answers, you had ventured into uncharted territory and made things awkward. Awkwardness clung to the air like an unwanted guest.

Gale was the first to break the silence, his voice hesitant. "So then, the scars on your chest..."

You let out a light, nervous laugh. "Definitely not from an owlbear fight," you assured him, and a genuine smile began to replace the awkward tension. "They're the handiwork of a wizard doctor in Baldur's Gate. But, honestly, I find it much more entertaining to share absurd stories about them."

"Amusing, indeed," Gale agreed, and he joined in your laughter. The tension began to dissipate, leaving you both with a sense of relief. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted, and the atmosphere lightened.

"I'm sorry for springing that on you; it's been weighing on my mind for some time," you admitted as the laughter between you two gradually quieted down.

"Please, don't worry about it," Gale reassured you, his voice sincere and understanding. He reached out and clasped your hand securely. "I can only imagine it's a sensitive topic, and I'm glad you felt safe enough to confide in me. I want to emphasize that this revelation changes absolutely nothing about how I feel about you." His words were imbued with warmth and reassurance.

You couldn't be certain if it was the wine or just the intimate conversation, but a subtle heat spread across your face, your cheeks warming as you found yourself ensnared by his rich brown eyes. He met your gaze with an intensity that seemed to reflect your own unspoken desires. For a moment, you both shared a meaningful silence, savoring the reassuring presence of one another.

In this quiet interlude, you allowed your gaze to leisurely explore his face, tracing his features with your eyes. You followed the gentle curve of his silhouette, his magnetic eyes, and then down to the sculpted line of his jaw. Your attention settled on his lips, vividly recalling how they felt – soft and inviting, his beard lightly brushing against your skin, eliciting those delightful, ticklish sensations. Astral projection had its allure, but it couldn't quite replicate the tangible experience of another person's touch.

As your thoughts wandered, you couldn't help but ponder when Gale had last engaged in a physical, intimate encounter. The way he spoke of his solitude after Mystra suggested it had been a long while. Would he ever consider exploring such connections again? You wondered if it would be too audacious or imprudent to even pose the question.

Your reverie was abruptly interrupted by the tender sensation of a warm hand gently cupping your cheek. It cradled you, offering an assurance of safety and comfort. In response, your heart seemed to flutter in your chest as Gale drew you nearer to him. His gaze was filled with affection as he lovingly looked into your eyes, and all you could hear in that intimate moment was the soft rhythm of his breath.

"You look quite magnificent tonight," he whispered, his voice so hushed as if he feared disrupting the tranquil serenity that enveloped both of you.

A playful smile graced your lips, and you replied with a hint of cheekiness, "You spoil me with your words, Gale." Leaning in, you bridged the distance between your lips and his, planting a gentle kiss upon his mouth. The kiss was a wordless expression of your connection, and it spoke volumes of the unspoken emotions shared between you.

Gale held you close, his arms wrapped around you as he reciprocated the kiss with tenderness. You felt a bit lightheaded, the wine and the joy of the moment mingling in your senses as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace. His lips carried the faint taste of wine, much like yours. Almost instinctively, your hands found their place behind his neck, drawing him into the kiss, a silent longing for his touch.

He smiled softly against your lips, then pulled away slightly to let out a gentle chuckle.

"Is this the real reason you sought me out tonight?" Gale playfully inquired, his voice laced with a teasing undertone that sent a playful spark into the air. He punctuated the question with another tender kiss on your lips, his lips lingering for a moment before he gently nuzzled his face against your neck. His warm breath washed over your skin, causing a delightful shiver to dance down your spine, and you couldn't help but respond by softly biting your lip, ensuring no unintended sounds could escape, all the while relishing the intimate connection between you two.

"My intention was simply to share a moment with you; anything more is a delightful surprise," you replied, your fingers finding their way through his luscious, wavy brown locks as you spoke.

"Shall we dance like the gods, then?" Gale whispered sweetly into your ear, his hands trailing down your back with a tender, alluring touch. His hands traced a path down your back, and the touch was like a soft breeze on a summer's night, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The moonlight cast a silvery glow around you, and the distant murmur of the camp seemed to fade into the background as you were drawn into this intimate moment.

Your heart quickened, and your thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of desire and curiosity. As his hands continued their tender exploration, you found your own fingers lightly grazing the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The world around you faded, and all that remained was the connection between your bodies, an electric current that left you breathless and eager for what lay ahead. You pondered the question for a moment, wondering if the magic weave sex was something you were interested in pursuing again.

"Actually..." you began carefully, pulling away slightly to meet Gale's gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and shyness. "I'd like to experience you as you are."

Gale paused, a look of slight astonishment flickering across his features, as though he needed a moment to process your words. "As I am?" he repeated slowly, seeking confirmation.

"If you'll have me, that is, as I am," you replied with a shy smile, your voice a delicate whisper. "I've been wondering if perhaps you'd like to explore more about... men of my variety."

A soft, thoughtful expression crossed Gale's face. He leaned in, his forehead gently touching yours, and your noses brushed in a tender nuzzle. "If that is your desire, I would be more than willing to oblige," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with warmth. "You've certainly piqued my curiosity, and I'm always eager for new learning experiences." 

Both of your lips met in another affectionate kiss, and as the night continued to unfold, it felt as though the rest of the world had dissolved, leaving you and Gale entwined in a lover's embrace.

[that-basic-simp]

Christmas at Baldur's Gate

Karlach X Fem! Reader CW: None WC: 1.0k

Grabbing a stool, I stood up on it, trying to place the wreath on the mounted deer head that sits right above the bar in the tavern. The rest of the tavern was decorated and there was even a tree that sat in the back right corner where I walked back and forth from the bar and into the eating area of the tavern.

"Careful, Y/N."

"I'll be fine," I said, extending to my tip-toes.

Gravity wasn't favoring me today and I lost my balance, about to fall onto the hard wooden floor. Rushing underneath me, Karlach caught me and made sure I was alright.

"You should have let me handle it, darling," she said, setting me down.

"You did all the other decorating. I wanted to help," I sighed.

"I know," she said. "But putting a wreath on the deer? We should just put a hat on it."

I sighed and nodded my head, "Alright."

"Besides, I think the wreath would look better on the door outside."

Heading towards the door, I swung it open and placed it on the same nail that held the open and closed sign. Closing the door, Karlach got on the chair and placed a Santa hat on the deer, jumping down once she was finished. I made my way towards her and she wrapped her arm around my waist, pulling me close to her.

"There. Look better?"

"It does," I said.

"I think the place looks nice," she said, taking a look around the tavern. "Good job, darling."

I smiled as she leaned towards me and placed a kiss to my forehead. Getting prepared five days before Christmas was a bit of a rough time, considering some of the decorations we had gotten were either yesterday or today. Some of the things we looked at getting were already sold. Even some of the decorations were made by Karlach and I. And the others. Especially the little wooden reindeer that we had on every table. That was courtesy of Halsin.

"Y/N, do we have everything before everyone comes in tonight?"

"I think so," I said.

I was surprised everyone was going to be able to make it tonight. After we had defeated the Mindflayers and the Elder Brain, it has been peaceful ever since. Well, as peaceful as I can get since I live with Karlach here above the tavern. She was never one to settle down in a quiet place. I think the tavern helps her with that. It's not too quiet where Halsin or even Astarion might have gone. But definitely not as rowdy or noisy where Lae'zel went, considering she flew off on a dragon after our battle. It was a nice in the middle for Karlach and I was finally getting used to it.

"Wait, there's one more thing," I said and went into the back, heading up the stairs to where our little house was.

Stepping into our shared bedroom, I couldn't help but smile at it. I could easily tell whose side of the bed was whose. Of course, Clive gave it away, but without him, her side was always messy while mine wasn't as messy. Heading over to my bedside table, I opened up a drawer and found some mistletoe Shadowheart had given me. I was tempted to place it somewhere in the tavern, but that might initiate some awkward interactions. Even then Karlach would break it up. There was one point she had gotten a bit drunk.

There were two people who were fighting one another and she literally got onto the bar and jumped right on them, joining the fight. She broke up the fight because she was stronger than both of them. How she did it was she had both of them in a headlock and I walked out from the back, finding her like that. She saw me, immediately stopped and let them go. She apologize to me for what she did after she explained the situation, saying I was free to kick her out and never her let back. But once I told her she owned the place, she just smiled, nodding her head.

Instead, I placed it above the door that led to our bedroom. Once that was finished, I headed back into the tavern to find everyone was there. They all greeted me and I walked over to them, hugging one another. The night was pretty tame for the most part, since it was just us. We wanted it to be that way. No fighting, no tending to other patrons, and certainly no bar fights. We just wanted a peaceful night with one another. Just us so that we could catch up on how everyone has been doing. From the sounds of it, everyone was doing just fine and they were accomplishing their own things. As the night went well into the early morning, everyone parted ways for now. I'm sure we'd see them again. Karlach was a bit worried she wouldn't get to see them since her engine was still in need of a tune up. While Dammon provided a short term fix, it wasn't going to last the amount we wanted it to. Not the amount Karlach wanted to, but she didn't let those thoughts overwhelm her.

"You ready to head to bed?" Karlach asked.

"I was almost falling asleep when Halsin was talking about ducks," I yawned.

She chuckled, "Head on up. I'll take care of everything."

"Are you sure, Karlach?"

"Yes, I'm sure, darling. Go get your rest. I'll be right up."

"Alright," I said and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Karlach."

"Anything for you, darling."

I was about to go walk up the stairs, but I remembered about the mistletoe. I turned back around and walked over to Karlach.

"Something wrong?"

"Just got a second wind."

Together we cleaned out the cups we used along with the plates that held the small food items we made. Once everything was cleaned up and the lights were off, Karlach picked me up and carried me up the stairs. Once we reached the bedroom, her horn brushed against the mistletoe.

"What was that?" she looked up, finding it dangling from the doorway. "Who gave you that?"

"Shadowheart."

She threw her head back and laughed, "Of course Shart would have given you that."

I chuckled.

"But I don't need that to kiss you," she said, planting a small kiss to my lips. "Just say the words and I'll give you one."

"Noted," I smiled, kissing her once more underneath the mistletoe.

[pebblethestone]

Flowers in the wind

Halsin x Drow Reader

Summary - sitting in a field filled with flowers and how you meet the poeple that you have made friends within months especially a druid

Masterlist

Words - 1091

A/n - no more writers block and its grate is all I have to say :) don't know if I should make more parts to this but I'll see.

⚠️Blood warning

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You walk in an open field, the grass and flowers dancing in the wind, swaying back and forth as you pluck flowers near you of all colours, putting them into a woven basket that you hold in your hand.

Being a drow and living in the under dark did have its fall at times but it was your home, but one you will never go back to after being free of the darkness that it had held.

Oh, how lovely it was to feel the sun hitting your cold skin and the fresh air, looking down at your basket to see that you had enough flowers to make what you needed you look around looking for somewhere to sit as your eyes land on a big rock laying on the ground.

Walking over to it you take a sea, setting the basket next to you as you watch the clouds move in the blue sky as they fly by.

'You had been taken by the mind fayers unknown why or how you do not remember as much as you think you should but had escaped with a githyanki called Lae'zel and a half-elf called Shadowheart after getting to the control part of the ship, not remembering what had happened after that as well.

Expected falling and being caught by some sort of magic?, after that, the rest is a blur finding Shadowheart then Lae'zel, Astarion, Gale, wyll and Karlach as you became a party. When meeting Wyll you meet people in a druid's grove, a tiefling called Zevlor had asked you to find a druid called Halsin who had been captured by the goblins.

After finding him as a bear trapped and then working with him to kill the ones leading the goblins, after that, there was a tiefling party, and being you, you decide to take a chance at talking to the wood elf to know him better.

Over time you too got closer and closer but only as friends, you wish for more but you don't want to crush the friendship that you already have.'

Looking back down from the sky to look at the basket filled with a bunch of colourful and bright flowers as you pick one up and sniff it a little It gives off a fresh smell.

Deciding to make what you were planning to as you bring the flower down to where you can see it as you take some more from the basket and then start to weave the flowers together slowly making sure not to make any mistakes along the way as you carry on.

After a while, you finish making the flower crown, looking at its thick with different colours of flowers mixed with green as you lift it to your head realizing that it's a tad too big for your head, putting it into the basket now which only holds now a few flowers left.

Moving off the rock onto the soft grass and sitting down you think about what happened when 'you had decided to go and someone caused you to be stabbed in the leg, coming back to the camp it was late, but didn't want to wake anyone up at the time.

But Halsin was already there waiting for you as he was at the campfire, he had turned his head hearing your food steps as well as your limp that you had.

“Y/n you hurt, what did you do this time?” he asked you as he took a look at your leg seeing that your trousers had blood all over them. You look down at your leg and see it.

“I've had an encounter with someone and helped them some a man who was going to harm them in return I may have been stabbed,” you say to the elf.

“Come here and let me have a look at your wound,” he says as he pats the log next to him where he is sitting, walking over to where he is and taking a seat next to him.

“May I?” he asks as you nod your head as his hand covers your wound, feeling warmth as he does his work as the wound fixes itself.

“be careful with that wound as it can still tear open if you do too much moving,” he says to you as look back up at him.

“thank you Halsin,” you say with a smile looking at the hole in your trousers that you probably fix later on, feeling the elf looking at you.'

Your ears twitch as you hear footsteps coming towards you as you look up you see the druid as he comes over to you.

“I thought I would find you here Y/n” he says as he takes a seat next to you his warm eyes watching you as you fiddle with your hands.

“Halsin, how are you on this sunny day?” you ask him.

“am doing well Y/n, and what about you?” he asks in return.

“am doing good, I have a surprise for you though, close your eyes” you say to him as you grab the flower crown from your basket and lean over to him you where tall but not as tall as he was, moving on to your knees next to him as you place the flower crown onto his head his eyes still closed.

“you can open them now” you say as you move back sitting back where you were before he opens his eyes his eyes moving you to see what you had put on his head as he looks back at you.

“May I ask what it is?” he asks curiously as he watches your smile making him smile a little.

“It's a simple flower crown, you can take it off if you don't like it,” you say as he takes the crown off and takes a look at it his smile grows and he puts it back onto his head.

“no, no I think I shall keep it on for a while, it's Beautifully made,” he says with his warm eyes meeting yours.

“Thank you, am about to head back to the camp would you like to come back with me?” you ask as Halsin stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Yes I came here to make sure you did not get into any trouble while you were by yourself again” he says as you take his hand and he helps you up.

As the both of you start walking off to camp talking along the way.

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 6: ruination and regret

Find the master list here!

CW: Too many feels, emotional manipulation and allusion to past trauma.

W/C: 3,890

A/N: Thank you for all of your likes, comments and reblogs! They make my day! Enjoy!

The day had been harrowing to say the least. The whole party had ventured out together to take on the goblin encampment, and had they not all set forth, he was sure none who had would’ve made it back. He could only remember bits and pieces of the mission, so wracked with nerves and adrenaline as he was. 

He remembered his awe at the skillful, deceptive manner in which you’d talked your way into the raid celebration; the searing pain in his skull and the voice of the ‘Absolute’ commanding abeyance at the bridge to entry before the little contraption Shadowheart carried around silenced it once again. 

He remembered saving the ridiculous and terrible bard’s hide. He’d disagreed with your motion to help the idiot, but had ultimately been outvoted. Some case you’d made about ‘kindred spirits’, or the likes, had garnered enough sympathy from the rest to warrant standing idly by as you picked a fight with an ogre. He’d never admit it, but the rush of the ensuing fight had made saving the silly little man worthwhile. 

He remembered a sense of pride at watching you command authority over the goblins guarding the temple doors, once again talking yourself into a place you didn’t belong, though the goblins were none the wiser. He remembered the way you’d expertly manipulated the priestess into giving you a private audience, and then ran your sword clean through her in her own chapel.

You’d had far less propriety with the drow, something fierce and dangerous sparking behind your eyes at the sight of her. You’d simply walked up, blade in hand, and brought your arm down in a swift and brutal arc over her front. Despite your surprise attack, she was not as easily felled as the priestess, and your stunt had earned the group another raging fight over your insolence. He’d found himself preoccupied by you throughout, fighting without finesse as he bore witness to the formidably masterful way you wove your magical artistry alongside your weapon attacks to create a devastating and beautiful offensive assault. 

He remembered the distractingly delicious smell of your blood on the air, too absorbed in the warm comfort it brought him to notice the way your strikes had gone sloppy, your dodges glacially slow by comparison, as the group engaged the final horde. 

He remembered the falling curve of the hobgoblin leader’s war hammer, as if in slow motion, and the sickening crunch of your skull echoing in the sudden and vast emptiness of his mind. 

He remembered watching helplessly, transfixed in horror, as you crumpled to the sticky cobblestone of the temple floor, the fragrant essence of your life force that he’d come to know so intimately spilling in a hapless and rapidly spreading pool around you.

He remembered the deafening roar of shocked silence at the sight of you, so small and vulnerable at the monster’s feet, your beautiful countenance dulled by the pallor of death.

He remembered registering the piercing sound of a feral scream, remembered being spurred into action by it. Remembered the fury and the fear that pushed him to take life indiscriminately, reveling in the gratuitous bloodshed at his hands as he brutalized a path to your limp form. Remembered slaying all who came near with reckless abandon, almost taking Shadowheart out when she made to cast a healing incantation on you. 

Remembered thrashing against the excruciating heat of Karlach’s arms as she hauled him backwards, intent upon fighting his way back to your side no matter the cost. The placating gestures of his other companions as he rushed to hold your slight frame, platitudes of ‘It’s over’ and ‘Let us help’ bouncing off the wall of his despair as he hissed at them to keep their distance. The poorly hidden grim expression drawing Shadowheart’s face into gaunt severity as she assessed the state of you from afar, any attempt she made to come nearer met with his rabid hostility.

The feel of Lae’zel’s swordpoint at his nape and Karlach’s burning hands fisted in his doublet as he was dragged away mercilessly, the shrill and penetrating sound of mourning ringing in his ears.

It was not until much later - long after you’d been revived and the last embers of the celebratory bonfire had guttered out - that Astarion realized the tortured wail he’d heard as he was wrenched from your motionless, cold body was that of his own. The lack of your warmth to guide and protect him, however fleeting, turned out to be an agony far more unfathomable than that of his plan’s ruination. ______________________________________________________________

Despite Shadowheart’s use of the Revivify incantation, your wounds continued to pain you and your skin had a sickly dullness to it that rivaled that of a plague infected pauper. He was more than sure that even his mortal counterparts could hear the stressed whistle of your breath past your lips as the party trudged in the direction of the Grove. Everyone continued to glance worriedly at you as you winced and gritted your teeth through the pain of movement. For your part, you continued to refuse any offers of helping hands, pride making you stubborn.

Astarion would have found it amusing had he not found it disconcerting. You’d done so much for all of them, himself included, but could not accept help for yourself. It pointed to a deeper, more traumatic motivation than he was comfortable putting his finger on. He chose to remain quiet instead, eyeing you carefully should your ability to continue onward falter.

When it inevitably did, he was at your side in an instant, beating even the hulking Elven druid in his wide and sweeping reflexive strides. He did not even have the wherewithal to chuckle to himself at the many disappointed expressions on the surrounding faces. You were his only concern, and he could smell the fatigue in what little blood had been restored to you. Ignoring your weak protests, he swept you into his arms with the strength of a man ten times his size and carried you the rest of the way to the Grove, warmth spreading from his chest when he recognized the evening out of your fitful, waking breaths into those of dreamless sleep.

Back at the Grove and with access to all of his magical medicinals, Halsin, Nettie and Shadowheart worked in tandem to restore your battle weary body to full health. It took quite some skill and patience, but it was managed, and he watched your expression with keen eyes, looking for any hidden signs of discomfort. Finding none, Astarion breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, feeling as though a heavy burden of sorrow had been lifted from him.

After some discussion with Halsin and the retrieval of the group’s reward, you sought out Zevlor to convey the news of the goblin leaders’ demise. It appeared, however, that the whole of the Grove already knew, as the tieflings were gathered en masse just inside the gate, hugging and shouting and laughing with their relief. The exiled Hellrider held out a meager coin purse, which you turned down vehemently. 

Were he sure it would not reflect badly upon his character to reach out and take it in your stead, he might have done so. As it stood, Astarion ruefully averted his gaze from the little bag, jaw muscles working to hold his snide remarks safely behind his teeth. Just as he thought that things could get no worse, the tiefling leader suggested he and the others put on a celebration that night at camp.

Backwards as it was, you accepted the invitation graciously, though he could see a wariness hidden behind the warmth of your gaze. He was proud to have managed not more than a tired sigh at the refugee’s overzealous gratitude, eyes nigh on rolling out of their sockets as a chaste kiss was placed on the backs of your bloody knuckles. And he thought his own actions insultingly obsequious. 

With a tiefling entourage, you led the group of exhausted adventurers out of the Grove gate and the short distance back to the campgrounds that he’d come to find some comfort of familiarity in, even with its lack of lavish accommodation. Had Astarion been a more sentimental man, he might even consider the little stretch of land to be home. He tried not to think too hard about the implications of that errant musing.

Once at camp, the tieflings began to set up for the impromptu celebration while the intrepid adventurers washed and rested. More than anything, he wanted to fall into the dreamless trance of his meditative state, but the ruckus of the tieflings made any real rest all but impossible. His mind wandered to you, those icy tendrils of dread constricting his chest for a moment at the memory of your death. He resigned to sit just in the mouth of his tent, eyes trained on your bloodied form as you darted from one guest to the next, providing help where it was needed.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind’s eye, the fear of your demise continued to dog him, and the small voice in his head that demanded he solidify his importance to you reminded him of his ill-conceived notion of seducing you. It persuaded him to move forward with the next phase this evening, a feeling of wary excitement washing over him at the thought. As though reading his depraved mentation, your eyes found his in that moment, and you flashed him a tired but sweet smile. He felt a small smile grace his face in return, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment. Satisfied, you turned back to your task.

He supposed he ought to make his way over to the druid to have his wounds seen to. He heaved a sigh and stood with some effort, eyes continuing to track your petite form as you disappeared into your tent. He watched you emerge with a bundle of cloth in your arms, smelling the fragrant soap you loved so much. A flare of arousal shot through him, his mind wandering to the night he’d caught you bathing. 

His stomach lurched at the memory, though with desire or disgust, he couldn’t tell. He reached the elf just as you bid the camp a temporary farewell and strode away to wash. It had been a long day indeed, and he lamented at the continued slow stretch of time before he would be able to set to his task. ______________________________________________________________

Afternoon turned to dusk, and dusk to dark as the camp roared to life with celebration. The tieflings and his companions alike made merry together, dancing and singing and drinking with reckless abandon. He thought it silly, knowing the grueling journey still to come. So much death and loss, and still the little mortals found reason to be joyous. He presumed that this was what mortals figured they must do, celebrate whatever it was they were afforded, as their lives were fleeting in the grand web of the cosmos. He loathed their naivety, loathed his wisdom and knowing of life’s many pains. 

Loathed just how shattered his perception of humanity had become.

He sipped gingerly at the terrible wine provided as he held back from the crowd, gaze following you as you flitted about the camp, taking stock of all there and thanking them for the lively party. He heard all of the honeyed words spoken to you, a twist of disdain marring the lines of his face. It seemed he had more competition for your hand than he’d thought; even the tieflings made their passes, hoping to grace your bedroll that night in thanks. 

You politely declined every advance, much to his relief, and continued your rounds about the guests. He listened in on your low conversation with Zevlor, his voice heavy and pained with loss. He watched your small hands grasp the Hellrider’s, much the same as you’d held his not so long ago, and that tumultuous green monster in his gut forced an unbidden low growl from his throat. Thankfully, he was too far from the action for anyone to discern his ire. The tiefling leader merely expressed his gratitude for your assistance and strode away.

His gaze followed you to Alfira, listening contentedly to the peals of your laughter like so many tinkling feywild bells as she suggested writing a ballad of your heroics. You sat with her, cradling your lyre like a newborn, and played bawdy tunes of frivolity and bliss. A growing crowd gathered to listen, singing along where the words were known and listening intently where they were not. He found himself gravitating towards the fray, some invisible pull drawing him to be nearer to you.

He stopped just at the edge of it and stood quietly by Shadowheart, who eyed him with a knowing smirk. He scowled at her, snickering when she rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine.

“Something catch your eye, leech?” she drawled.

“Only all of the foolish food laid before me, blood rife with drunkenness and unwarranted gaiety,” he quipped back.

“Naturally. While more cheerful than I’d prefer, loss is indeed a thing to be celebrated. The Dark Lady graces us this day,” she nodded. 

Astarion held his tongue, a biting retort just at the tip of it.

Shadowheart sighed into his silence, continuing, “Any plans to take a bed partner tonight?” 

She turned to look at him fully, brows raised in a quizzical expression. He moved to mirror her, face betraying nothing more than amusement.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my darling Cleric,” he chuckled.

Shadowheart’s expression softened uncharacteristically, her voice lowering to match, “I see the way you look at her. It’s the same as we all do. There is much to be admired there.”

He nearly spluttered, so taken aback by her sudden change in countenance.

“I suppose there is,” was all he said in response. With that, the conversation ended.

He turned his attention back to you, noting the lull in the music, and piped up from his place at the back of the crowd.

“Would you be so kind as to grace us with The Lament for That Which Is Lost, my dear? I believe all of this whimsy is in need of tempering.”

Your eyes snapped to him, a question held in your now-somber gaze. He nodded imperceptibly and watched as your shoulders sagged with the weight of reality. You looked to Alfira, who shook her head with a perplexed tilt to her brows. You heaved a great sigh, and he could smell the inquisitive trepidation floating along the breeze as you began to pluck your sorry tune.

He closed his eyes, the smell of sadness heavy in the air, and hummed along with your lovely voice. He could hear the start of quiet sobs and sniffles from all those before him and felt a sudden pang of guilt at ruining their moment of jubilation. Worst of all, he could smell the agony and unease pouring from you, fragrance more poignant than the rest. Though your voice did not waver once, he could tell from your choked breaths that tears flowed freely from you.

As the song came to a close, he opened his eyes and looked around. All of the tiefling guests held each other close, exhaling their grief into the surrounding atmosphere. He saw Alfira lean forward to hug you, and you melted into her arms, shoulders slumped and shaking with your sorrow. Even Shadowheart dashed tears from her eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Alfira marveled, her own eyes glassy and dripping. “Would you teach me sometime?”

“Of course, my dear friend,” you responded with a watery laugh. You then turned to address the group.

“While it is pertinent to remember all that has been sacrificed for this victory, tonight is a night of celebration. We should never forget the cost of what it took to get here - I’m not sure any of us even can - but we must remember ourselves. Even in the face of loss, we have held onto the strength to carry forward in their memory, just as they would want us to. Now, I bid you go enjoy yourselves. Eat, drink and be merry, just as they would, were they here to join us.”

With a hearty cheer, the party returned to its former resplendence, though not without a small amount more solemnity. He attempted to slink away, unprepared for your disdain in the face of his actions. He was once again reminded of just how little of his autonomy he’d held as Cazador’s spawn - his slave - and just how much he did not belong among this rag-tag group of do-gooders. 

“If it was my attention you wanted, you could have just asked,” you quipped from behind him. He could feel your scrutinizing gaze as his shoulders slumped infinitesimally lower in dejected self pity.

He turned to face you, chewing his words carefully before responding.

“This sort of revelry is a bit garish, don’t you think?” he asked, trying to salvage whatever dignity he might still hold in your eyes.

“Not at all. A hard battle was won, and this lot can finally move onward with their lives. Build homes, families. Learn to be grateful, to love living again.”

Your gaze penetrated the very depths of his soul, and he feared what you might find there. Was it just as much a bottomless, dark void as he thought it to be? He felt the swelling tide of panic clawing at his insides, and fought to keep his grip on the reality of the moment. Logic told him you could see no more of him than he of you, and he could not feel the tadpole squirming behind his eye, nor the telltale fuzziness of thought detection magic. Those truths lent him the strength to maintain his composure.

“Besides,” you added, a curious tilt to your head, “I don’t believe you’d think that for a moment. When have you ever been one to turn down a little revelry over bloodshed?”

A wave of icy fear nearly consumed him at your accusatory words - until he caught the uptick of a smirk on your lips. He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, widening smile gracing his own face.

“Truthfully, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they’d toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…”

You raised a quizzical brow as he swigged the sour wine.

“I hate it. This is awful!”

The bark of your surprised laughter was worth his flippant antics. Your smirk had turned into a wry grin, no doubt mirroring his own.

“You’re terrible, Astarion,” you giggled. “Is it truly so bad? Think of all the goblins you killed! Surely that must count for something!”

You hid your snickering behind your hand, and his expression softened some, finding joy in making you laugh.

“True enough, I suppose. That was fun! Still, I would have liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine,” he sniffed playfully, barely containing his own giggles.

“Give me that, you bloody scoundrel,” you chuckled, snatching the wine from his grasp. Your fingers grazed his as you clasped the neck of the bottle, and he watched a slight shiver run through you as you brought the mouth of it to your lips, taking a great gulp. He watched the line of your throat bob with each swallow, spilled rivulets running from the corners of your mouth and down the exposed column of flesh. 

He licked his lips unconsciously, the movement reflexive as he trained his gaze on the translucent trails of redness disappearing into the bosom of your dress, stains blooming along the neckline…how he wished he could follow them with his tongue and leave a different dribble of red in their wake.

He was broken from his reverie by your heaving gasp, having finally broken your mockery of a kiss.

“Have you no taste, dear Star? A full-bodied, dry red. I would’ve thought you’d like anything of the sort,” you smirked at him, still panting with breathlessness. Your eyes had glazed some with the haziness of the alcohol swirling in your blood. He wondered briefly if you would taste different while soused - and then caught the heavy-lidded heat in your eyes, your words registering as bold flirtation, as bold as you’d been with him.

Now is my chance.

“I have plenty of taste, darling. I’ve been eating you, after all,” he purred. His sly grin only widened as your cheeks heated further, desire chasing the warmth of the wine in your system.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” he continued, intonation rich and low, enticing you to draw closer in order to hear his words.

“Knowing you?” you giggled, “Most likely.”

“Come now, don’t be so sour,” he tutted, “I like a good time as much as anyone.”

His voice had become more vibration than sound, the gravel of it surprising even him. That disorienting fire had ignited low in his belly, and he found himself almost eager to ask you to lie with him.

“You know,” he murmured, “we could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little…closer, so to speak.”

As if heeding his own words, he drifted ever nearer to you, reaching out to take the half-empty wine bottle from your grasp. His fingers purposely brushed over yours, and he reveled in the shudder that wracked through you, a small noise catching in your throat. He bit back at the groan that threatened to bubble up from his own.

“Maybe…” you breathed. After a brief pause of thought, you added, “If you say ‘please’.”

“What?” 

He could not hide his shock at your request, your eyes unwavering in their seriousness despite your stifled giggle. He steeled himself, the sound of your laughter lending him the courage to proceed.

“Please,” he whispered.

A flash of surprise etched its way across your features, followed by an almost imperceptible tightening of your jaw and hardening of your gaze. You held yourself rigidly, hardly daring to breathe against whatever onslaught of discomfort had overcome you.

“While a most tempting offer, I’m afraid I must decline.”

Though you continued to smile pleasantly at him, there was a hollowness to it that had not been present before. He faltered momentarily, perplexed by your response and unsure of what to do next. Should he press you? The thought left him dizzy with abhorrence.

Recovering himself, he gave you a stiff and shallow bow.

“As you wish, my sweet. The offer stands, should you change your mind.”

“I’ll remember that,” you said, voice devoid of the fondness you’d so openly displayed just moments before.

With that, you spun on your heel and traipsed away, bidding everyone a good night and disappearing into your tent.

Astarion was rooted to the spot as he watched your retreating form, dumbstruck by your sudden change in demeanor and swift exit from the conversation. The camp had begun to quiet as the darkness of night deepened, the growing number of visible stars telling of the late hour. He gazed morosely into the dying embers of the once roaring bonfire, wondering just where he’d gone wrong.

[scarredwithcruelintentions]

chapter 8: scorched earth and rebirth

Find the master list here!

C/W: Shadowheart being a bitch (again), mentions of past trauma.

W/C: 3,800

A/N: This chapter brought to you by: OneLook Thesaurus.

The trek over the mountain path proved more laborious than he’d anticipated, an ambush of undead laying in wait for their unassuming passage. Though difficult, the battle lasted mere moments, Shadowheart’s radiant attacks a divine intervention against the ghouls. Breathless and bone weary, the group sat for a brief respite.

“That was meant for me, no doubt. I’d recognize Cazador’s minions anywhere,” he panted, hoping neither his expression nor the waver of his voice betrayed his terror.

“It is no matter, dear Star. They’ve been defeated,” you consoled, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

Lae’zel’s eyes flitted between the two, scrutinizing the ease of companionship between them. A devious and knowing smile twisted her lips, making Astarion’s stomach somersault with unease.

“You are lucky she likes you, Nightwalker. Were it up to me, I’d simply kill you for all your trouble,” she smirked, notably more composed than the rest.

“‘Like’ is an understatement. I see whose bed you ended up warming that night, though I suppose it’s no surprise,” Shadowheart scoffed.

Astarion’s head snapped to you, enraged to see a deep flush spreading across your face and into the neck of your armor, rendered speechless by your mortification. Faster than a mortal eye could process, he drew his dagger and lunged for Shadowheart, holding it menacingly to her throat.

“Enough!” he roared. 

For her part, Shadowheart remained stoically unimpressed.

“She warmed no beds that night. Your jealousy is unbecoming, Cleric mine. I feel sorry for the poor souls unfortunate enough to grace your sheets,” he hissed.

Shadowheart’s expression turned thunderous, and she shoved him back hard enough to make him stumble.

“How rich, a prostitute bemoaning a night in my bed. You should be so lucky,” she jeered.

“On the contrary, dearest. Two hundred years and ten thousand lovers, none of which I wanted, and yet I’d sooner return to that atrocious work than spend a night with you,” he sneered in contempt. 

He smiled as a flash of genuine hurt crossed her face before she drew her lips into a tight line, sniffing primly.

“You wouldn’t be worth the coin anyway,” she said meanly, and he held his ground even as his heart plummeted into his stomach.

They continued to glare at each other in a defensive standoff, neither turning to look at you as you cleared your throat uncomfortably.

“If you two are quite finished with your fight for my honor,” you spoke, an almost imperceptible quiver in your voice, “we have business to attend to. Let us make haste for the creche.”

“Do let’s,” Lae’zel added, a trace of amusement laced through her steely expression.

After another moment of tense silence, Shadowheart relaxed her stance and turned to resume the journey to Rosymorn Monastery. Lae’zel fell in step just behind her, and you looked at him expectantly.

Hurt and adrenaline rang deafeningly in his ears, his posture still tense as he considered sticking his blade between Shadowheart’s shoulders. He startled when warm hands closed around the fist that gripped the dagger hilt, knuckles blanched with the strain. He felt the tension drain from him instantly, the aura of your compassion washing him with a sense of quiet calm.

“Thank you,” you whispered, expression grateful, “You did not have to defend me so ardently; her jibes were uncalled for, and I am sorry on her behalf.”

“Think nothing of it, darling. Besides, you need not apologize for injury you have not committed. It is not your burden to carry, and you’d do well to remember it,” he murmured, adding quietly, “I see how our woes weigh on you.”

“It is not something I have much control over. I simply feel, and I answer the call of whatever it compels me to do.”

Your eyes fell to his feet as the gravity of your words knocked the wind from him, an all too familiar ache reverberating in his chest.

“I know of exactly what you speak, in many a painful way. I am sorry, my love,” he whispered, unaware of his slip.

Your eyes darted back up to meet his, shock evident in their widening. Then, your expression softened, a hopeful fondness writ plainly from your face to the yielding of your posture. You veritably melted at his words, and he smiled tenderly as he watched your shoulders ease. He allowed you to gently take the dagger from him and sheath it at his hip, palms adjoined even as you worked. Once sheathed, your other hand returned to rest atop his, petting your thumb gently across the backs of his knuckles.

“Thank you, again,” you whispered once more, and then dropped his hand. 

You strode to catch up with the other two women, bracing yourself for the day’s quest. 

He exhaled a breathy sigh, gut fluttering with warmth and delight at your kindness, as he rushed to walk beside you. ______________________________________________________________

The zaith’isk turned out to be a dead end, a monstrous contraption of psionic energy meant to kill both tadpole and host in one fell swoop. Lae’zel was intent upon believing that it had been tampered with, the atmosphere rife with her denial. He supposed he might be as well, had he willingly devoted his entire existence to serving a false god. But, all evidence pointed to exactly that, and as they made their way through the creche, it was only made more apparent that nothing she’d been indoctrinated to believe was true.

You insisted upon saving the stupid egg, much to his dismay, convincing the varsh that the group would raise it well. Though skeptical, the custodian gave you a pair of boots to protect from the acidic pond of the hatchery. You passed it onto Lae’zel, who placed it in her bag with care. He watched the way the women marveled at it with a sense of motherly awe, and dismissed his twinge of pitiful discomfort at the sight. He imagined he’d make a terrible caregiver, what with nothing but torture and abuse set as his precedent.

The Kith’rak proved to be a formidable foe, demanding the artifact from you and striking within milliseconds of your resounding ‘no’. Much to his relief, you’d expected her wrath and dodged the attack with a lightning quick feint to the left. He sprung into action moments later, going for the two wolves that now stood with their teeth bared and hackles raised. Shadowheart screamed somewhere off to the right of him, but he paid her no mind and made quick work of the oversized, hairy beasts.

He looked over to see Shadowheart and Lae’zel begrudgingly fighting back to back, parrying and dodging aggressive strikes of githyanki blades and crossbow bolts. The two women had their quarry well handled, so he turned back to watch you deal the killing blow to the Kith’rak. The air around her was charged with the weave, disembodied whispers paralyzing her in fear as your longsword carved a devastating arc through the fizzling magic with a hiss and finally lodged itself in her carotid artery. 

A sadistic sense of pride bloomed in his chest as he watched you rip the blade from her throat, her head lolling unnaturally to the side in its absence, half severed. Then he looked directly at you, gore spattered and chest heaving with exertion, and that pride morphed into the sizzling embers of desire. Even coated in the sweat and viscera of battle, you were a sight to behold.

You handed the greatsword off to Lae’zel, who took it with a pensive frown. He could see the gears turning in her head, the fear of what lay ahead pausing even the great warrior of Creche K’liir in her post-battle revelry. 

You continued rooting through the Kith’rak’s belongings, exclaiming triumphantly when you’d found whatever it was you were looking for. Taking the shard of stone the size of your palm, you walked up to the device enabling the glowing barrier and slotted it perfectly into place. The barrier dissipated with an unearthly whoosh, and you took a bold step into the antechamber of the monastery.

Though he was amused by Lae’zel’s hesitancy, he could not quiet the voice in his head that empathized with her fear. An undying queen with enough power to rival godhood against a ragged band of exhausted adventurers, one of whom had been a faithful servant up until this very moment. Astarion felt a pang of sorrow for the gith woman, whose entire world had been upended in less than a day. He remembered what that felt like as plainly as the memory the feeling was drawn from: the night he’d clawed his way out of his own grave.

You marched, head held high, straight for the githyanki inquisitor. Lae’zel’s hesitancy only grew with every question, tension rising when you refused to give the inquisitor the Astral Prism. You had to quietly remind Lae’zel that everything was not as it seemed, that the zaith’isk had almost killed her when she threatened to kill you. Astarion marveled at how level-headed you appeared through the whole interaction, hiding your fear well. Had he known you any less, even he might have missed it.

The following battle was hellish, a combination of silver and psionic force that quickly sapped the party of whatever remaining energy reserves they had. It was by no small miracle that they emerged victorious, Lae’zel beheading the inquisitor with the new, and yet familiar, greatsword. Just when they thought they’d have a moment to catch their breath, an astral projection of the lich queen herself materialized before them, towering over their tiny forms like a boot poised to crush a colony of ants.

Vlaakith demanded that they kneel in her presence, attempting to soften the blow to their pride with half-hearted congratulations for besting the inquisitor. Lae’zel knelt reverently, and he watched Shadowheart take a knee in uncertainty. Astarion looked to you, still standing tall and defiant in the face of the would-be god, and snorted derisively. He followed your lead despite Lae’zel’s muttered contempt, refusing to bow to a fraud. 

He’d sooner bow to you than this charlatan masquerading as a divine entity, having spent enough time cowed by those that deemed themselves superior.

Vlaakith summoned the Astral Prism from you, suspending it above the illuminated dais, and he watched in fascination as the thing shifted and whirred until it opened, revealing a portal into another plane. The lich queen commanded that you enter the prism, alone, and kill the being within that was claimed to be a trespasser.

You looked up at the monstrous projection, then back at the group, and with a resolute nod, you stepped through the portal. Astarion’s heart clenched with dread as he watched you disappear; there was no telling what was held on the other side. He kept his eyes fixed on the glowing disc, only half paying attention to the words exchanged between the false god and her beholden servitor. He hardly noticed when silence fell and the apparition dissipated with another otherworldly whoosh.

Astarion breathed an audible sigh of relief when you returned from the portal, not even batting an eye as it swirled shut behind you.

“I met our dream visitor,” you said, voice echoing in the nigh empty chamber.

“And you killed them, as Vlaakith commanded?” Lae’zel asked, bristling.

“I did no such thing. They are our only line of defense against the Absolute, Lae, and you know it,” you responded matter-of-factly.

“Hshar’lak! I should gut you where you stand,” she growled, blade poised to strike.

“And yet you won’t, as you too know that something is off here. Something has been off from the moment we stepped foot in the creche. You cannot deny it any longer, Lae,” you murmured, stepping forward to place a hand over her wrist and gently lower her sword.

“You are right. Damn it! I know you are right. I am hshar’lak this day. I have failed my queen, my people,” Lae’zel wailed, and Astarion winced at the pain so clearly displayed in her stance and her voice.

“You’ve done no such thing, Lae’zel,” you replied.

The brusque woman shook your hand from her arm, but made no more moves to attack you. She sat heavily on the bottom step of the dais, head falling into her hands.

“There must be some way I can appease the undying queen. To think that I spit in the face of Ascension, all for an istik!” she snarled, rounding on you with hardened eyes and bared teeth.

You said nothing, only pulled out your lyre and began to pluck a gentle tune. The music swirled around the group, providing a sense of rest that cured their ailments and bolstered their resolve. He felt it as Lae’zel’s distress dulled with the return of her wits, the atmosphere lighter for it. Shadowheart spoke a quiet prayer of healing that had the group on their feet moments later.

You motioned them forward, exploring the cavernous chamber for any signs of the Blood of Lathander. He watched as you picked up a hunk of amber, what looked to be droplets of blood suspended within, and then promptly tossed it aside, continuing your exploration.

“A piece of amber containing the blood of a god, is that not exactly what we’ve come here for?” he questioned sardonically.

“A fake, meant to throw off those with a less trained eye,” you responded, rifling through more chests and drawers.

“Ah, naturally! How could I be so silly?”

You looked up at him, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.

“Easily, Rogue,” you quipped.

“Hey!” he snapped, but your attention was now trained elsewhere.

Two statues of the god himself stood facing each other. After reading one of the plaques, you made a confusing series of turns and then shoved the statue. He was surprised to hear the turning of long rusted gears, watching raptly as the statue rotated in place until it faced into the chamber.

You moved to the opposite statue, shoving with all your might, but it wouldn’t budge. You backed off to catch your breath then tried once more, to no avail. Blue in the face and panting with exertion, you held a hand out to him.

“Grease, please,” you heaved.

He cocked an inquisitive brow at you, but did as you asked, handing over a bottle of grease that had been rattling around in his pack since the outset of the journey. He watched you pull the stopper and upend the bottle over the statue’s base, giving it a few hard shakes to get the last of it out.

“Clever,” he intoned.

With a fierce tug, the statue yielded and turned to face the wall of the chamber. The shrill whining of stone grinding against stone echoed as the wall gave way to a passage filled with magical luminescence. He watched you intently as you completed each perilous puzzle, thwarted each obstacle leading to your prize. Finally, the last glowing barrier fell, and the group was greeted with the sight of a legendary mace, infused with holy light and attached to the pommel with none other than the Blood of Lathander.

He was taken aback by the pause in your step, could sense you thinking, though what about he could not say. He caught your imperceptible shrug and watched proudly as you strode forward, grabbing the thing by the hilt and yanking it free with all your might.

Before they could celebrate their victory, though, a sizzling shield of magical energy came down, trapping you in place. The whirring sound of machinery filled the chamber, along with the otherworldly buzzing of beams of light coming together to power up a massive weapon.

He found himself speaking before he was even sure of what he was going to say, what he was going to do.

“I’ll get you out! The rest of you, go! NOW!” he bellowed.

He did not pause to watch Shadowheart and Lae’zel scramble away, following the path of the ray out of the monastery and presumably to safety. He hastily pulled his longbow from its sheath against his back, nocking an arrow and shooting down at the source of its power. It took three well placed shots, but the forcefield gave, and you rushed forward to grab him.

He shook his head, looking up as the ceiling began to crumble, dust obscuring his vision as chunks of stone fell around him.

“GO!” he shouted, hoping you heard him over the sound of the monastery collapsing.

The last thing he heard was the sharp cry of his name, the sound of your sweet voice raised to a piercing shriek. Then, there was only darkness. ______________________________________________________________

He came to on his back, the face of the desiccated skeleton known only as ‘Withers’ hovering above him.

“Rise,” it commanded in a growl.

A searing pain split his skull and he ached all over. He raised a hand to his forehead, groaning.

“Gods, what happened?” he questioned aloud to no one in particular.

“You died, for a moment,” he heard you intone. He opened his eyes to find you standing close by, chewing your lip in worry and hugging your arms close.

Something ferocious in him snapped at the thought.

“What in the sweet Hells were you thinking, activating that lance? I was right there! Gods!” he scoffed, “Do you have any idea how much that hurt?!”

“I’m so sorry, Astarion. I’ll be more careful next time,” you whispered, eyes glassy.

He still burned with righteous anger, but felt himself soften some at the sorrow on your face.

Still, he felt it pertinent to drive the point home.

“Next time? No, no, no! If there is a ‘next time’, I’ll be the one aiming the all-powerful weapon, thank you.”

He heard a quiet sniffle and watched guiltily as you reached up to run your arm along your nose.

“Sorry,” you mumbled again, casting your eyes downward.

He heaved a tired sigh, taking your hand.

“Although, I do appreciate you trying to fix your mistake,” he added, voice much softer.

You looked up to meet his eyes, a tear running down your cheek.

“Just don’t do it again. Now, shall we head to bed? Or do you have any other chaos you need to unleash here?” he asked, voice and expression taking on a devious quality.

“No, no more chaos, I promise. Lae’zel is in a right fit about Vlaakith and the destruction of the creche, and I accidentally got you killed. I feel as though I’ve ruined everything,” you whimpered, voice shaky.

“My sweet, we spat in the face of a self-proclaimed god and procured a legendary weapon today. Could it have possibly gone any better?” he smirked.

A watery giggle escaped you at his antics, the sound soothing the last of the anger from him.

“When you put it like that, I suppose not,” you smiled.

You wrung your hands, a habit he noticed you indulged in only when nervous.

“Is there something you’d like to ask me, dearest?” he inquired, brow raised.

“I…I was wondering if I might make it up to you…with dinner?” you asked coyly, looking up at him through your lashes.

The embers of desire stoked to life low in his belly, though he did not show it. So eager, so willing you were to provide him with sustenance. However did he get so lucky?

He made a show of stroking his chin, humming quietly.

“And what if I’d like to sample another meal tonight?” he asked playfully, looking around the camp at the other companions. He stifled his laughter at your immediate glower.

“Then you’d be dead before morning,” you grumbled.

“Right, of course. Nonetheless, I wonder what they might taste like. Theoretically, of course,” he added, taking joy in the jealousy written across your expression.

“Of course,” was all you said in response, face still drawn tight and sour.

“I imagine Gale to be rich and dark, something like a well aged brandy,” he intoned, snickering to himself when your frown deepened.

“But Shadowheart,” he continued, “I’ve no idea. What do you imagine our little enigma might taste like?”

“Something that’d knock you on your arse in no time flat. Calishite Absinthe, most like,” you responded monotonously.

“That sounds rather appealing, don’t you think?” he asked, reveling in toying with you.

“Perhaps.”

“If you had to take a bite of anyone here, who might it be, darling?” he intoned, devious glint to his eyes despite the fragile hope in his heart.

You looked directly at him, seeing through the facade and into his being.

“You, of course. Fair’s fair,” you murmured.

He felt his stomach somersault with excitement, choosing to pass it off as a step in the right direction towards his original plan. He turned to face you fully, hand not holding yours coming up to cup your face.

“Two hundred years, I’ve had this condition, and yet…you were my first real meal,” he whispered, thumb sweeping over the plane of your cheek.

“A good first, I hope,” you whispered back, lips parting with your breath as you inched closer to him.

“The most delicious of firsts, darling,” he murmured, cool breath fanning across your face with the proximity.

Instinctually, he broke his hold of your hand and wrapped his arm around the small of your back, delighting in your small cry as he hauled you closer to him. Your hands came up to rest against his chest as he leaned down, eyes scanning yours for any hesitation. When he found none, only unbridled want present in their depths, he delicately pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was short, chaste, but no less sweet for it. Your mouth was plush and warm against his, and it yielded beautifully as you gasped into him. He delighted in the taste of you, sticky sweet and intoxicating, pressed to his lips so willingly.

Sensing the prying gazes of his companions, and that of one bag of bones just to the right of him, Astarion broke the kiss begrudgingly.

“We have an audience,” he murmured, resting his forehead upon yours.

“Right,” you squeaked, squeezing a chuckle from him at your adorable innocence.

You pressed gently against his chest, and he broke his hold on you, giving you space to step back. You cleared your throat and brushed your hands down the front of your armor, grimacing as you remembered the blood and grime that smeared it.

“I’m going to the Chionthar to wash. Meet me later? For dinner?”

“Of course, darling. I impatiently await your return,” he answered in a sultry purr.

He watched as you hurried away to your tent and then out of the campgrounds to the river, a dastardly smirk plastered across his face.

Not much longer now.

[whaledenwtf]

Halsin x Druid!Reader - The Forest's Calling

I'm currently HYPERFIXATING on Baldur's Gate 3. This is my love letter to Mount Halsin, the elf I would climb until my limbs fell off. You're welcome (or I'm sorry). Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link Enjoy!

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Choking, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), Kinky DRUID Forest Sex, Misuse of the Entangle Cantrip (hehe), Size Difference

I tried to keep Halsin in character as much as possible, but there is a significant change when y'all get funky

WORD COUNT: 4691

Nature calls to you, as it always had. The sounds of the forest have always been your favourite. Silvanus' creations had made you feel complete. The moss between your toes, and the swaying of trees; you had never felt so much peace during such perilous times. It's at times like this you are gracious for your god's teachings; nature is chaotic as it is gentle, and things will sort them out- if that is what is determined. This is how you kept such a level head during this adventure. Some of your companions saw your level-headedness as worrisome, but you always remind them that to persevere is in the forest's nature, and so it is in yours.

No good ever came from stressing over obstacles in your life.

"If you could stop thinking about the grass for five seconds, I'd appreciate you listening to me. Tch- tree huggers." Astarion tells you annoyed. You look into his crimson eyes and smirk.

"This tree hugger is your key to freedom. Unless you forgot about the tadpole in your brain." Astarion's eyes widen, before he smirks.

"Keep talking dirty, sweetheart. Might not resist taking a bite~" You chuckle.

"Settle down. Like I told you beforehand, we must seek out the Archdruid Halsin before we continue our journey. Nobody could come close to him in terms of knowledge-" Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

"Nobody could come close to the information about the ghaik than us githyanki. You istik entertain such useless ideas." You roll your eyes at her. Before you could speak up, Shadowheart speaks to the githyanki.

"Yes. I'm sure your barbaric race would know much more." She says sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, would much rather any other option besides yours." Before Lae'zel could fight back, Karlach speaks to them both.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss already. Wasting time when we could be slaying goblins and getting closer to being free. Stop fucking around and listen to (Y/N)." You nod your head in appreciation to the tiefling.

"Besides, even if Archdruid Halsin does not know how to help us, he may offer his services regardless. Leaving him with the goblins is a fate worse than death. His ally-ship will be indispensable." This appeases those in the group who were unsure of your leadership.

"Always the cunning one, aren't you sweetheart." Astarion speaks up. You turn your head and wink.

"Let's push forward and assist in any way we can." Wyll speaks up. Gale nods, looking over our group.

"Let's be smart and proactive, we do not want to lose eachother, nor do we want to get caught. We shall stay in hiding for as long as possible. Stealth is the best way forward with our little information we have." Astarion taps your chin.

"I like you like this." You smirk at him before leading the group to the Goblin Camp.

After killing every goblin in the vicinity, you all venture forward to a cage where a bear is roaming.

"A bear. He was probably going to be goblin fodder." Astarion says, smirking.

"Hush. Poor thing was being attacked by these goblins." Karlach speaks to him, bumping her shoulder into Astarions. He gasps, the wind being knocked out of him.

"Careful. I bruise like a peach!" He tells her angrily. She chuckles.

"And you're just as bitter as a rotten tomato-" Astarion bristles. You cut him off.

"Settle down, girls. We have time for play later. Show some respect. That bear is our charge." You unlock the iron gate before walking in alone.

"I don't think that's a good idea-" Gale says worriedly, but you shush him. When the bear makes eye contact with you, you see the gold swirling in his eyes. His mouth opens to show his sharp teeth, a warning.

You bow down infront of the bear, laying a hand out towards his snout.

"Are you sure that's... wise, sweetheart?" Astarion asks, concerned. You ignore him before speaking.

"Archdruid Halsin, it is my absolute honour to stand before you. We have come here to free you from your imprisonment and bring you back to the Emerald Grove. May Silvanus preserve us." Without a beat, the bear transforms into a tall, handsome, elf. Your eyes widen at his stature, but more at his beauty.

"Ah, a fellow druid. Silvanus has certainly looked upon me in favour. Thank you for assisting me." You realize you are still kneeling, at crotch level with the Archdruid. Your eyes flicker to his pelvis, and eyes widen at what you see. You rise to your full height, which makes you eye level with his chest. Your head tilts to look into his eyes, and notice him watching you, with a small smirk. He saw you gazing at him, how embarrassing.

"Of course, Archdruid Halsin." He shakes his head softly, braids swaying with the movement.

"Please, call me Halsin. My savior shouldn't have to call me by such a title." You nod, before looking over your shoulder at your companions. They are all looking at the tall elf in shock.

"He just- he just turned into a man!" Astarion says out loud. You chuckle.

"Yes. My preferred wild shape is a bear." He responds to the shorter elf, not looking away from you, glancing over you in curiousity. You turn back to look at him. Your eyes stay locked while you speak to your party.

"Let us leave. We will bring Halsin back to the Emerald Grove and then we can rest. I want to wash off this gods-awful goblin blood before it stains my armour." Everyone nods at that. They turn to walk out, ready to escort Halsin back. You follow your group, Gale and Wyll leading you all forward.

"Thank you, little flower. I truly appreciate you aiding me." Halsin whispers to you, matching your strides behind the group. Little flower... the nickname made you giddy. You blush softly, the heat reaching to the peaks of your ears.

"I can't leave a fellow druid behind. Especially with what those goblins were doing to you." You shake your head, looking over him and the dried blood that caked him from his wild shape form. He chuckles at your worried gaze.

"Nonetheless, the Oakfather has blessed me with your assistance. I am indebted to you for life." You turn to look at him, his easy smile and warm eyes making you feel something... magical.

"The Oakfather has blessed us many times anew. The air we breathe, the ground we walk upon, the forests. But alas, I did come to release you because we need your assistance-" His eyes widen lightly, before he looks down at you.

"What do you need, little flower?" The way he speaks to you is soft, unconcerned of the questions you will ask him. His caring nature speaks to the softest parts of you.

"I will ask you once we bring you to the Emerald Grove. However, I must warn you-" You stop walking and grab his arm. Holy hells his arms are buff. You must have paused for a moment too long.

"What is wrong?" You shake your head at your own thoughts. You're acting like a toddler, instead of the adult elf you are.

"At the Emerald Grove... Kagha is planning to do the Rite of Thorns, and is releasing all the Tiefling refugees..." Halsin's eyes almost bug out of his head.

"We must stop them! That rite does more harm than good! Those Tieflings... fleeing towards death. It is not right!" You tell him passionately. He takes your hand from off his arm and grips it in both his large hands.

" We will stop them, little one." You nod. He continues to hold your hand.

"The shadow curse has been on my mind for so long, I cannot believe I trusted such a-" He shakes his head, cutting himself off.

"We will continue our trek and once we stop the rite, I will tell you all you need to know." You bite your lip.

"If I could help carry your burdens, I would." He chuckles, a light blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

"I'm sure you would, little flower. Now, let us continue our journey. I appreciate you warning me." He lets go of your hand and waves his hand out, gesturing you to go forward, so you do. You can't help the chill that you feel when his hands release yours.

After stopping the rite, you did speak to Halsin about the tadpoles. He sighs when he says he cannot heal you of your affliction. A shiver of fear goes through your body. If someone as knowledgeable with healing like Halsin cannot heal you, you cannot imagine how to move forward. Its then that he tells you that the Shadow-Cursed Lands may be the key to assisting you in your journey. You bite your lip worriedly.

"I will continue to assist you. I will follow your party and do what I can. Not only for the cursed lands, but also for you." He says it with such conviction, such passion, you cannot help but feel safe and warmed from his sentiments.

"I feel indebted to you Halsin. Truly." He shakes his head.

"You will be helping me much more than I, you." You smile up at him. He cannot help but be captured by the radiance of your smile. Oakfather preserve him, you are the most beautiful of his creations.

"I will help you with this shadow curse. Take back nature and restore balance. I just hope I don't grow any tentacles in that time." You say humourlessly, your laugh hollow. He grabs your chin with his hand, his thumb stroking the side of your face.

"I promise on all of the Oakfather's creations, I will not let anything happen to you." Your eyes flutter, and you glance down at his lips before looking back into his eyes.

"Thank you." You whisper to him. His attention is taken elsewhere, and his hand caresses down your neck before releasing you, and moving to the Tiefling asking for him.

You feel this feral need to have him, to help him. You're attracted to him, and you can tell this will be problematic. Oakfather preserve you.

That night, the Tieflings throw a party for you all. The music is loud, and you can see them enjoying themselves. You look over your companions and see all of them enjoying themselves; albeit in their own ways. While looking over the festivities, you see Halsin standing away, gazing over the festivities and people watching. Your eyes make contact and you blush.

"This wine tastes like goblin piss." Astarion tells you, gagging on the swig he just took. You chuckle at him, breaking eye contact with the handsome druid to look over at the vampire.

"Not your type of red drink?" You ask him flirtedly. He smirks at you and leans into you.

"No, sweetheart. My type of red is standing right next to me, as radiant as ever." His face gets close to your neck and he sniffs you deeply.

"All of a sudden, I am thirsting for something else." He tells you. You chuckle at his advances.

"Are you now?" You flirt back. He smirks down at you.

"You're much more fun to speak to like this, sweetheart. I can't help but want a taste." You giggle at him, before taking the wine from his hand and taking a couple mouthfuls.

"Oh gods it does taste like goblin's piss." You splutter out. He laughs at your turmoil.

"Oh darling, you make me laugh." He tells you. You grin at him.

"Glad my misfortunes bring you joy." He smiles at you, sharp teeth glinting in the campfire's light.

"Mm. The only thing that would bring me more joy in this moment is having a taste of you." His voice lowers to a whisper. You roll your eyes.

"Easy there. If I didn't know you better I'd say you're a bard, singing my praises so I could follow you to your tent for the night." You push his chest gently.

"I'm sure I can make you sing, sweetheart." He tells you, looking at you with a smirk.

"As much fun as we would have, I think you've had enough to drink." You tell him jokingly, waving the bottle of wine in his face. You take another swig, and swallow down the bitterness. You go to walk forward, the alcohol driving you to your destination; Halsin.

"Ah, my little flower! It seems you were having fun." Halsin tells you, smile on his face. The crease between his brows tells you that he'd much rather had been the one sniffing your neck, rather than Astarion. You feel a rush of confidence surge through you, aided by the alcohol in your system.

"I decided to turn my attentions elsewhere." You tell him confidently. He smirks at your words.

"Is that so? Well, I am honoured to have such attentions on me." He tells you in a whisper. You almost whimper at his words, feeling hot. You feel as though molten lava has replaced the blood in your veins, and the heat is centralized at the apex of your thighs. You rub them lightly, which catches the elder druid's attention.

"You could have much more than attentions on you tonight, Master Halsin." Your voice lowers to a whisper, and the effect is immediate. His eyes shine golden and his smile becomes wider, more primal. Just like in the Goblin Camp, it was a warning.

"Is that so, little flower? Are you offering yourself to me?" He asks you gently, taking a step forward. You are now flush with his body, and the carvings on his undershirt graze the peaks of your breasts deliciously, hardening them. You moan quietly, looking up at the gargantuan man through your eyelids.

"I'd like to explore you, Master Halsin. See if those rumours of your... generosity are true." You feel his arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back. His fingers seem to tighten, digging softly into your skin.

"You seem to enjoy calling me by my honourifics." You hum, smirking at him.

"I'm just calling you by title. You would like to be my master, would you not?" He growls lowly, much like a bear would.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little one." He tells you huskily. You giggle at him.

"The only games I would like to play are with you, Master." In his eyes you can see him having an inner battle. You take the hand on your waist in yours, which snaps him out of his inner turmoil. The alcohol is rushing through you now, your (very little) inhibitions non-existent now. You pull it closer to your face, before taking a thick finger in your mouth and worshipping it. You kiss at the pad of his forefinger before licking it; inevitably taking it into your mouth and sucking on it softly. He watches you entranced, groaning softly as you let go of his finger with a pop. You take his hand in yours, and pull him towards the edge of the camp, leading to the forest. Once you find the small grove in the forest, you let go of his hand, spinning in place and enjoying the silence of nature. He stays at the edge of the tree line, watching you with sharp eyes.

"Little flower-" Halsin says softly. You turn to look at the man with a smile.

"Our worries are for dawn. With the moonlight shining on us, and the trees as our witness, I would like to show you the pleasures of the flesh, as nature intended." He groans loudly now, far enough from the camp that your voices would not carry.

"I'm afraid to lose myself. The beast-" You pull off your nightshirt, exposing your breasts in the moonlight. You then pull off your pants and undergarments in one shot, fully baring yourself to his sight. He inhales deeply, eyes looking at you up and down multiple times. You begin to to dance sensually, your hips seeming to beckon him forward. He takes a couple of uncertain steps.

"Halsin. I am not one so easily afraid of beasts. Let me help you forget your woes for a night." His resolve seems to crumble, and he runs to you, leaving you both chest to chest.

"Little flower, I will devour you-" You moan, pulling his hair to bring him to your lips. His chapped lips touch yours, and it feels as if there is magic flowing through your bodies. His hands find purchase under your thighs, lifting you up into him. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you moan into his mouth. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips, persuading you to open your mouth to his. Your tongues find each other, and a battle of dominance begins. You lose easily, his gifted tongue prodding and licking at yours with wanton need. You release each other to inhale deeply. He inhales from his nose and groans.

"I can smell your need, little one." You whimper, looking into his eyes.

"You're overdressed, Master Halsin. Allow me to undress you." He lets you down out of his embrace, and you begin to untuck his sleepshirt out from his pants and over his head. You begin to untie his pants, helping him out of them as well. That's when you notice he is wearing no undergarments, and his cock is thick and long, closer to the length of your forearm. You whimper, falling to your knees and looking up at him.

"You don't need to please me-" You cut him off.

"I want your cock to hit the back of my throat until I am unable to speak." He moans loudly, before your hand grasps him at the shaft.

"The Oakfather blessed me with such a giving partner. I- Oh Silvanus-" You take him in your mouth, licking at the tip. You taste his musk, and he tastes like pine and mint, and something that makes you absolutely feral. Without a care for your own wellbeing, you try to swallow him whole, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and then some. He groans, eyes closing as one hand finding itself locked in your hair and the other forming a fist at his thigh.

"That's right little druid, take Master's cock into the back of your throat." His voice goes down an octave, and you feel a rush of slick leave you. Taking him out of your mouth, you kiss the shaft downward until you take his heavy balls in your mouth and suckle. You're panting with need, moaning into his skin. You let go of him, one hand stroking his cock and the other inching down your body to touch your cunt. He looks down at you then with hooded eyes, and moans again.

"Are you touching your needy cunt, little flower? I cannot wait to fill you with my seed until your entire being is satiated." You moan, needing him back in your mouth. You remove the hand on his shaft and deepthroat him again, only getting two thirds of his member into your mouth. You hear your need, the wet sounds coming from your pussy only arousing you further. He begins to thrust into your mouth and you choke on him. After making sure you were alright, he continues his movements, thrusts getting rougher. The hand in your hair tightens and pulls you off his cock, as he growls.

"I will pound your quim until you are unable to walk without my healing, little one." His hands grip your upper arms and lifts you up to stand. Your face is smeared with his precum and your spittle. Once you are stable on your two feet, he kisses you passionately and you moan into him. His hands are touching you everywhere. His touch is searing hot. His hands find themselves at your breasts, rubbing and pinching the peaks of them.

"O-Oh Halsin. Don't stop." He chuckles into your ear.

"I'm not planning to stop until dawn shows itself." You whimper at his words, thrusting your chest deeper into his ministrations. You hear Halsin whisper before your hands are being pulled behind you, tightly grasped. Your feet are also held up, spreading your legs open. You notice that vines grew from the ground and are holding you up like a platter to Halsin.

"As much as I love your touch, little one, I don't want you to push me off when I get a taste of your ambrosia." You moan loudly, almost caterwauling for the elder druid.

His large hands caress up your leg, massaging the skin of your calves, before going higher.

"I wish you could see yourself as I do in this moment, little flower. You're exquisite; truly one of Silvanus' greatest creations." You blush, heaving.

"H-Halsin, please-" He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

"Don't fret, you will be chanting my name soon enough." His confidence is addicting, you could feel how drenched you were even with your legs spread so far apart. His hands finally reach close to your core, and he spreads your slit further open to look at you. You could feel your hole contracting, as if begging for an intrusion.

"By the gods... Look at your tight cunt begging for my cock. Can't wait to have a taste." You feel his breath on you. You look down and see him watching you, as his hands slide up to your breasts to play with your nipples like he had before. The first stroke of his tongue on your clit sent a sensation of pleasure up your spine. You struggle against your bonds, with an insatiable urge to grasp his hair and tug him deeper into you.

His tongue then ventures lower, tasting your essence. He moans loudly into your body, the vibrations of his moan pleasing you greatly. He continues licking you, tasting you as he tweaks your nipples, tugging before massaging. You felt powerless against the bonds, barely hearing anything more than the rush of blood in your ears.

"Your nectar... is just like honey. I can't wait to have you cum on my tongue multiple times." You moan. You can tell you're already close to your precipice, his words, moans and tongue vibrating and licking against your clit deliciously.

"Please... please Master Halsin-" He groans at the honourific. He plunges his tongue into you, lapping you at your source. His nose nudges your clit and that sets off your orgasm. You feel yourself leak onto him, his tongue cleaning your mess. You're shaking with oversensitivity, but he does not stop. One of the hands on your breast caress back down the length of your body, before he pulls away from your core. He grins up at you as he thrusts two of his thick fingers into you. He curls them, as you begin to shake harder.

"That's it, little one. Let all those in the forest know who is making you feel like this, making you cum and feel pleasure-" His words go straight to your core, and more of your slick leaks around his fingers.

"Halsin-H-Halsin- Oh GODS-" His lips wrap around your clit, sucking and licking at you. The attention was too much; you cum again. This time, you can feel much more than slick leave your body- did I squirt? You wonder to yourself, as your body is now lashing against the constraints. You didn't have much time to think about it, as he pulls his fingers out to taste you, moaning. You look down at him, panting. He spreads you open again, this time with both hands, before his tongue is back in you, tasting you like you were water and he was a man dehydrated. You whimper, begging him to give you reprieve. He pulls off of you, his mouth and chin covered in your release. He was panting, his eyes glowing a bright amber.

"You have no idea what you unleashed, little one." He growls out. You feel the vines dissipate. You're laid on the forest ground gently. Before he could move, you flip yourself over with enthusiasm, laying your upper body parallel to the floor and your lower body in the air. You wiggle your ass, one of your hands going between your legs and spreading yourself open. You look over your shoulder and look him directly in the eye. He is watching you with wonder, before you speak.

"Breed me, Master Halsin. Empty your seed in me and fuck me into a stupor." He growls, before kneeling behind you.

"I'll make sure you can't walk for weeks, little one. I'll spread you nice and good." You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. He rubs himself up and down your slit, gathering your juices.

"Look how wet you are. Such a good little druid for me." You whimper at his words. Without warning he thrust into you, going to the hilt. His heavy balls hit against your clit, and your mouth goes open in a silent scream. He begins a brutal pace, pounding into you. One of his hands reach around your body, his large hand grasping your neck. His hold is tight, but not painfully so. You feel lightheaded, all your senses being overwhelmed by the Archdruid. You feel as though your floating, the only thing tying you to this plane of existence is the continuous thrusts from the elf behind you. You felt as though you were split open repeatedly, his cock reaching places in you that you were unsure existed before today. He growls as he pounds into you, and you begin to feel claws against your neck, before they retract.

"You make me feral, little one. I'm gonna fill you with my seed, fill you with pups." You moan, breathless. His thrusts begin to falter, but they seem to go deeper. You feel yourself fluttering around him, as you gasp.

"I-I'm close." You whisper to him. He groans.

"I feel you fluttering around me, little one." He chokes out. After a handful of thrusts he cums with a shout, and you constrict around him, cumming once more. You feel his seed in you, so abundant that it leaks out around him. You both pant for a couple seconds. He releases your neck and you gasp an inhale.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks you softly. You shake your head enthusiastically.

"N-no. Oh gods Halsin. I am unsure how I will walk right ever again." You tell him breathlessly. He chuckles at that, caressing your back and thighs with gentleness. You feel him slowly pull out of you, taking care to not punish your core anymore. You whimper at the loss, feeling your mixed spend leaking out of you. He flips you over softly, wanting to look you over. His hand goes to finger you lazily. You shriek, body seizing up.

"Not a drop goes to waste." He tells you huskily. After a couple moments, he pulls his fingers out too, and directs them to your mouth. You suckle on the digits, the taste arousing you once more. You both look into each other's eyes as you did this. Once he removes his fingers from your mouth, his lips replace it, tasting both of you on his tongue. He groans into your lips. You kiss for a couple moments, before you both need to separate so you could inhale. You felt utterly spent. He goes to lie down next to you, and your eyes follow him.

His hands begin to massage your sore muscles, before pulling you onto him. You felt utterly spent. He holds you into a lover's embrace and you can't help but sigh into his chest, caressing his pectorals and cuddling into him. You feel his lips on the crown of your head, leaving a trail soft pecks and kisses. You both lay there, absorbing the beauty of nature and speaking about your lives before the parasite and the shadow curse until the sun rose.

END