#rather than convincing astarion to do it. and i feel like. i know how that could be done

[tomurakii]

Listen. The draw of my bloodweave fic to me is characterisation accuracy. And in the spirit of accuracy I simply cannot envision a universe that doesn't end with God Gale. Like even if you go evil mode and "corrupt" Gale to an extent he'll always disapprove of ascending Astarion, which if they were dating would be enough to convince Astarion not to do it, but Astarion wouldn't disapprove of Gale taking the crown. And Gale would be even MORE motivated to achieve godhood when he's a mortal with an immortal partner who is known to abandon his love interest if they become illithid (which is, to be clear, the correct choice as they are soulless BUT is not the choice Gale makes), giving this full-commitment idealist a bit of a fear of ageing out of his forever-pretty bf's sphere of interest. Like I would love to be convinced that they'd get the good ending but idk

[bolognamayhem117]

Hot Take: Astarion does NOT hate flowers. You just missed a few subtle hints through Act 1 and early Act 3.

Astarion's negativity is directed toward just about anything remotely pleasant as you move through early act three, starting the moment you leave Wyrm's Rock. First thing after Gortash's coronation he marvels near tears at the colors of the city in daylight. If you ask if he's alright, it pisses him off.

There's other instances I can't quite remember but he's a straight crank throughout early Act 3 and it took me several hours of gameplay to have a lightbulb moment about his newly crappier attitude.

He just spent the last two hundred years seeing everything in the overwhelmingly warm dim tones of indoor lighting via sconces, rushlights, and braziers, or the dingy blue gray of moonlight outside. Daylight colors are something he had more than a lifetime to forget and now that he has a chance to remember that vibrancy in his own home town, he knows he's going to have to forget it all over again either by death or by remaining a vampire spawn forever. The worm isn't going to live rent free in his head forever, and killing Cazador to ascend in his place likely feels like an insurmountable and impossible fight against a literal titan who could stomp him flat without a corm of effort.

He doesn't hate flowers, he hates EVERYTHING right now because it's all going away very soon and if he convinces himself he hates everything then he won't miss it when it's all gone again. He was denied this for two hundred years and he's PISSED at what was stolen from him and PISSED it's all going away again.

He behaved similarly in Act 1 about anyone besides him enjoying physical intimacy. Some of this content was cut, to my best knowledge, but the overwhelming majority of his dialog addressing the PC romancing anyone but him are negative or backhanded. This is for two reasons, I think. A: his Simple Plan just dissolved right before his eyes when you chose someone else which in his mind means he has zero safety net, and EVERYONE gets to enjoy sex (key wording being ENJOY, not simply having) except him... And it pisses him off.

He also gleefully interrupts the bug bear and the ogress, I think for the same reason as the above paragraph, being: If he doesn't get to enjoy intimacy neither do they.

He reacts with anger and disgust at anything he's being unfairly denied. Which... That's fair. His feelings are valid, but his reaction to it is pretty shitty and meanspirited.

The other companions I tend to keep in my party, (that is Lae'zel, Halsin, Karlach, and Wyll) however, are actually appearing to behave pretty patiently with him in Act 3 which I find interesting.

In the instance with the flowers Karlach doesn't bother trying to convince him otherwise of his opinion, she just tells him how they make her feel instead and rather than getting snippy or doubling down he more or less agrees to disagree. I also don't recall anyone disagreeing with Astarion during Gale's last quest tasks when he mentioned that he quit praying to gods who wouldn't hear him a long time ago but to be fair, I think the gods did everybody in this crew dirty and they all know it. It seems like they're consciously giving him the space to be mad about things, is what I'm saying.

Everyone I know including myself who crawled out of a long-term hot garbage situation kinda went wild for a bit with freedom, spoke poorly, behaved strangely, had extreme emotional reactions to things, and made some particularly terrible choices. I think that's just a part of recalibrating yourself, healing and learning how to be okay again.

Point is, I wouldn't conflate too many of the turbo-negative things he says with how he actually feels about anything. We certainly know what he says and what he feels are two very different things.

[mistiell]

When you're lost in the Darkness

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion suspects that you're afraid of the dark. What he doesn't know, is that not only will he soon be proven right, but he severely underestimated just how severe your fear is.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, nyctophobia, brief description of panic attack, possibly ooc Astarion, literally one use of y/n

A/N: Hey hi hello, I am back from the void for now. I would like to make a disclamier: I have not yet played BG3!! So, if anyone is out of character, I apologize!

---

Astarion has a theory.

A small and rather unimportant one, but a theory nonetheless.

It started when he noticed the way you set up your bed roll when the group makes camp for the night. You’re always as close to the fire as you can be without lighting yourself aflame, and when it dims to a certain point, he’s watched you rouse out of a dead sleep to stoke the coals and add more fuel. At first, he thought perhaps you were just prone to chills – he knows some people run cold when they sleep – but after lingering after one of your shared nights together, he came to realise that you’re actually more like a mostly-human furnace.

Then he noticed the way you linger around any sort of light source like a moth to a flame after the sun has set, and the way you fidget and glance over you shoulder every few minutes on the off chance your back is to the darkness.

He finds it strange. Granted, he thinks you’re strange for a variety of other reasons, but this pattern of behaviour is particularly puzzling to him. Which has lead him to his theory;

“You’re afraid of the dark.” He jests after watching you glance into the woods for the umpteenth time, aiming for teasing and realising he’s missed when your face falls into something akin to shame and discomfort.

You try to cover it with a scoff, rolling your eyes in a way he knows is meant to feign indifference, “I have far worse things to fear than the dark.” You spit those last two words, as if they taste bitter on your tongue. Firelight dances in your eyes as you keep your gaze trained firmly on him, even despite how much you look like you want too search for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself is out there, intent on disproving him.

“True,” He smirks with a practiced ease, suddenly – strangely – desperate to ease the tension he’s just created, “But should you ever find yourself too afraid to sleep alone,” He leans in just a smidgen closer, grinning coquettishly, “My arms are always open.”

You snort, the tension in your shoulders ebbing just so as you chuckle, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“By all means, keep me in your thoughts as long as you wish, darling.” He hums, smile just a little softer than he intends when you genuinely laugh at that, the sound sweet and airy as it bubbles up from your throat.

“And with that, I’m off to bed.” He nearly mistakes incredulousness for fondness, but catches himself as you stand. Turning back for just a moment, you give him a smile so soft, it makes is gut twist with a feeling he’s a little unsure of, “Goodnight, Astarion.”

If he’d fed more recently, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed. He blinks, clears his throat, “Sleep well, my sweet.”

Only days later, his theory is proven correct when you stumble upon some sort of abandoned cottage – House? Astarion’s not entirely sure – and, upon Gale’s insistence that it could be useful, decide to search it for wares.

“You do know there’s likely nothing of use in here, don’t you?” Shadowheart sighs impassively as she thumbs through a tattered book, slotting it back into place where she found it once she’s deemed it useless.

Gale huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, we won’t know until we look, will we?”

“We won’t be finding much of anything if you two don’t quit your squabbling.” You quip before turning your attention back to the chest you were searching. You just barely lean into Astarion’s space, grinning impishly. He leans in just a little closer – only to hear you better, of course – as you whisper, “They’re like children, I tell you.”

Something shatters. You both turn just as Shadowheart fixes Gale with a stern look, “Hells, Gale, pay attention to where you’re going!”

“Wh- It’s not my fault!” Astarion raises a brow at their bickering, tutting amusedly, “Children, indeed.”

Huffing a laugh, your attention slides to a door on the far side of the room and move to investigate. After trying the handle and finding it jammed, it takes a good shove to get it open. The only thing that illuminates the small pantry is the light filtering in from the door you’ve just opened.

You seem content to simply skim over the contents of the room from where you’re standing until you spot something of interest, eyes lighting up with a little gasp.

Astarion takes your place in the doorway as you rush into the room after propping the door open with a nearby pail, curious, “What have you found?”

Snatching a little tin box off a shelf, you open it and beam, “Oh, I haven’t had this in ages!”

“What?” He asks again, a little impatient.

You hold it out to him, and when he comes closer to look over the lip of the tin, he finds a fair amount of shredded, aubergine coloured leaves inside.

He looks back to you, confused, “Tea?” “Tea.” You grin, holding it up to your nose and closing your eyes to revel in the fruity scent, “I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s delicious.”

With how delighted you are over finding it, he doesn’t doubt it.

“Well, at least we can tell the others our searching wasn’t in vain.” He turns, “Settle that dispute between Gale and Shadowhear-.” The toe of his boot bumps the pail, sending it rolling as the door swings shut and swathes the room in darkness.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, the door comes back into view, only now the faded sage green paint is a dull grey.

Just as he moves for the door, he’s startled by the clattering of metal and a loud bump. He whips around to ask what in the hells just happened, but the words die in his throat when he finds you pressed flat against the shelves on the far wall – which really isn’t that far considering there’s only about six feet between the two of you. He can hear your heart racing from where he’s standing, your breaths quick and shallow.

That theory he had just got a lot more important.

He calls your name and you flinch, gaze flitting in his general direction but never settling on him. You look well and truly petrified. “Darling, are you alright?”

It’s a terrible question considering you are very visibly not alright, but he can’t seem to come up with anything else fast enough.

“I can’t–.” Your voice cracks and you swallow, looking dreadfully close to tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with your hands, “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”

“Hang on,” After trying the handle, he finds the door is jammed no matter how hard he yanks. He considers calling for Karlach or Wyll, but thinks better of it, not wanting to frighten you further. They’ll notice the two of you are missing and come looking eventually.

“Astarion.” His name from your lips pulls him from his thoughts. He usually loves hearing you say his name, even when your cross with him. But when it comes out like a pitiful mix between whisper and whimper, he finds his heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.

He turns back to you and stalls. Unsure, helpless. He wants desperately to comfort you, but he has no idea how. He goes over the many different ways he could try, and the many different ways you could react, before finally, “Tell me what you need.”

After a moment of hesitation, you hold out a trembling hand and he steps forward to take it without a second thought. You tense when his skin first meets yours, palms wet with tears as your breath hitches. You tug him closer to wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline, shaking terribly as you bury your face into his neck. He secures you to him with an arm around your back and a hand cupped over the nape of your neck. He can feel your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips when they settle over your pulse.

You’re still gasping.

“You need to breathe, lovely.” He says it gently, voice void of his usual coquettish flare. The nickname is softer than what he’s used with you so far, and it feels and sounds more earnest than it should. He tries not to dwell on it as he soothes his palm up and down the length of your spine, “Try to mimic me. I’ll guide you, alright?” You nod, and when starts coaching you through each inhale and exhale, you do your best to follow.

It takes several breaths, but eventually, they grow deeper and stop catching in your chest. Your heart slows. Not by a lot, but enough that Astarion can stop worrying that you’ll work yourself into a panic induced fainting spell.

He guides you through a few more before asking, “Better?”

You nod. With your throat dried out from crying, your voice is rather croak-y when you reply, “A little.”

“You sound like a frog.” It startles a laugh from you, the sound letting Astarion breathe a little easier.

“I do!” You sniffle, still laughing. It makes him laugh too.

“What the hells is so funny in there?” Lae’zel shouts from the other side with all her usual charm.

“Frogs!” Astarion shouts back, and you giggle a little more.

There’s a few loud bangs as one of your friends attempts to open the door. He can feel you flinch with each one until finally, it bursts open, blessed light washing over the two of you despite Karlach towering in the doorway. Your body sags with relief, and a little, involuntary sound escapes you as a new wave of tears threatens to spill, this time for an entirely different reason.

“What happened in here?” Gale asks, looking wildly confused as you slip out of Astarion’s arms and wipe at your cheeks hastily. “Oh, erm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, gaze bouncing between the items the fell when you backed into the shelf before settling on the tea leaves. You look genuinely disappointed as you gesture vaguely towards the small pile on the floor, “I found a tea I really like and got upset when I dropped it.”

“Ah. I see.” Gale nods, still obviously perplexed. If any of them find the explanation odd, they don’t say anything.

Shadowheart leans around Karlach, “We should get a move on. There are only so many hours before sundown.”

“Right. Yes, that’s a good idea.” You nod, clearly thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of there as you squeeze past them and lead them outside.

Much to Astarion’s chagrin, Karlach turns when she notices he’s hung back, “Oi, Astarion. What are you doing?”

He glances between her and the pantry before huffing, “Just... Tell them to wait a moment.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously but agrees, leaving him to tell you and the others. He makes his way back into the pantry for a moment before jogging outside to join you.

It’s a good few hours until you make camp, and another few before he finally plucks up the courage to approach you near your tent.

You notice him striding over and smile at the sight of him, “Astarion! To what to I owe the pleasure?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He announces dramatically, hoping his puckish grin will be enough to mask how incredibly fucking nervous he truly is.

“For me?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to one side.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, would I?”

“Well obviously, I just meant–,” You huff and shake your head, chuckling incredulously, “Never mind. What have you got for me?”

He holds out the tin and watches surprise and confusion flash over your face in quick succession before something unbearably soft settles over your features.

Taking it from him, you’re quick to pop the lid off. You gasp when you lay eyes on the contents, eyes wide when you look back at him with such wonder, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, “How did you–?”

“I salvaged what I could off the top of the pile. I– erm,” He clears his throat, “I thought it would be wasteful to leave perfectly good tea behind when at least one of us could enjoy what’s left of it. Irresponsible, even.”

You huff a laugh. There’s no mistaking the fondness this time.

“You’re absolutely right. That would be irresponsible of us.” Your smile shifts into something heart achingly earnest as you step closer and lean up to peck his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” He’s aiming for coquettish but it comes out too sincere to be convincing. That feeling twists at his chest again and it’s only now that he realises what it is.

He actually, genuinely cares for you.

Rattled, he feigns a yawn and smirks, “Well, as much as I adore your company, I really must be off to bed. Beauty sleep, and all that.”

“Right!” You seem to startle yourself with your own volume and clear your throat, chuckling awkwardly, “Right, of course. Goodnight, Astarion.”

He takes a mere second to mull it over before he throws caution to the wind and cradles the side of your neck in his palm, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw as he presses his lips to the apple of your opposite cheek. Before he takes time to actually think over his new found feelings and potentially freak himself out, he’s going to let himself indulge in you just a little while longer.

Pulling back, he brushes the back of his knuckles over the skin he just kissed, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

He can hear your heart thump, thump, thumping as he walks towards his own tent. The feelings he has for you are a new and rather inconvenient development. But if later he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind?

No one has to know just yet.

[avocado-writing]

Okay, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head, waiting for you to reopen suggestions, haha. How do you think the Origins Companions + Halsin, Rolan, Dammon, and Zevlor would react if they found out that Tav had been hiding a very serious injury from them? The kind of injury where Tav is convinced that they're fine and they don't want to worry anyone with something they can handle on their own, especially the people they care most for, but as they try to ignore the injury it only gets worse until it's potentially life threatening and they can't keep up the facade anymore. I will leave it up to you whether or not Tav and the other individual are in a romantic relationship. I think both ways have potential for wonderful angst 😆

ooohhh noooooo! but also oh yes, LOVE this sort of angst lol. written as if you have had an infection come on from an injury. this is gonna be a long list so let's buckle up...

Astarion

really tries to hide his panic but fails miserably.

can't help but start snapping - how could you keep something like this from him?

you try to give your excuses but he waves them away, angry, but mostly because he's terrified that he might have lost you.

if he has any healing potions he helps you take them, if he doesn't he immediately... sources some from somewhere.

holds you as tight as he dares, worried that he will aggravate the injury otherwise.

as you begin to heal and drift off to sleep he spends the whole night watching you rest, making sure that you're still breathing, still safe. doesn't mind when you cuddle up to him in the night, sleepily.

Gale

curses himself for not noticing your condition. he's a wizard, damn it! he's meant to be bloody perceptive.

wishes for the first time ever that he didn't just know wizard spells. wishes he knew how to heal, too.

makes you as comfortable as he can while he finds a book about what he can do for an infected wound, probably swallowing his pride and going to Shadowheart if it's bad enough.

you manage a weak, "Gale, you don't have to--", and he cuts you off, "if you're going to insist that I don't have to look after you, I'm telling you that I do."

fixes you something to help with the pain and infection, makes sure you drink it all despite the horrid taste, then tucks you into his bedroll to let you rest.

when you go to reach out and cuddle him he slips into your arms, presses his lips to your hair, and whispers as you fall asleep about how much you scared him. about how he'd never be able to lose you.

Lae'zel

only realises how unwell you are when you fall over mid-journey.

"tsk'va! why did you hide the extent of your injuries from me?"

hauls you onto her back and carries you back to camp, muttering about your foolishness the whole time.

makes you comfortable in her tent and uses her knowledge of githyanki medicine to help start healing you.

it isn't comfortable as she works on your infection but for the first time you feel her hands being soft rather than vicious.

"you should not have kept this from me." "I know. I'm sorry." "hm. ridiculous thing. zhak vo'n'fynh duj."

goes and intimidates the camp into being quiet so you can rest. it works. this is the nicest she's ever been to you. you could get used to it.

Shadowheart

obviously this is not a huge problem for her, but she is still worried that it got so far without her noticing.

immediately heals you, pouring far too many spell slots into your body in order to get it up and running again.

it helps, immediately breaking the fever you've been nursing, and the touch of Shadowheart's hand to your face is cooling and reassuring.

"lady shar teaches us to embrace our pain... but not like this. you should have known better. you could have died."

her hand slips down to cup your cheek, you cover it with one of your own. she's telling you off but you can tell it's because she cares.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." "I know. don't do it again."

she smiles and the ache in your heart is lifted, too.

Wyll

panics.

you collapse on day in camp and he immediately calls on the others for help, not so proud as to be unable to admit when something is out of his knowledge. he is not a healer. he needs help.

he manages to catch you in his arms as you tumble, hugging you close to his chest while magic is worked or a healer checks you over.

lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when you begin to stabilise.

helps you back to your tent to rest, gently chiding you but letting you know that he's glad you're alright.

when your hand weakly comes up to touch him, he indulges you in a kiss to let you know how relieved he is.

constantly watching you on the battlefield from that moment on. if he can help it, you'll never be hurt again.

Karlach

another panicker.

scoops you up in her arms and holds you to her chest, running to the tent of the nearest healer in camp - or, if you're in the city, kicking down the door of a local doctor.

begging the healer to check you over, but is reluctant to let you go. if she stops holding you it's like she's relinquishing control and that scares the life out of her.

you're healed and she feels you start to stir in her arms, peppering you with kisses of relief, choking through her tears that you're never to scare her like that again.

carries you back home, even if you're totally capable of walking. she just wants to make sure you're okay.

Halsin

sternly disappointed that you didn't tell him, but more annoyed that he didn't notice something was wrong himself. how could he not see how out of balance with nature you were?

squirrels you away to his tent to heal you, make you soothing and medicinal teas, his big hands over the source of the infection.

you burrow into his touch, into his chest, and you end up sitting in his lap as he heals you.

he wants to tell you off a little, but is more relieved that you're alright. encourages you to share all your burdens with him.

kisses you on the forehead, then on the mouth when he's sure you're strong enough for it not to knock you flat.

Dammon

my poor boy is just a blacksmith, so though he doesn't exactly panic, he does scoop you up and try to find a healer as soon as he can.

waits quietly and nervously as you are examined, silently cursing himself for being too busy to see how you were hurt. he's meant to be better than this. he's meant to love you, how didn't he notice?

when you come to he can't stop apologising, and it takes several of your kisses to soothe him and tell him it was not his fault but yours.

he makes you promise that you'll always tell him when you're hurt. has you look into his eyes and swear it.

he can't do much on the battlefield but he can protect you where he can.

Rolan

another one cursing that he doesn't know healing spells.

"you aren't meant to die, gods damn it! you're meant to be strong... what good am I if I can't keep you safe..."

rushes you to the best doctor in Baldur's Gate. pays for all the treatment that you could need. holds your hand at your bedside for your entire recovery... until you come back to consciousness, of course, at which point he just starts telling you off for being stupid enough to get into his mess in the first place.

you grab him by the collar and drag him down for a kiss. that finally shuts him up. but he never lets you forget how foolish you were.

Zevlor

practical but still worried about you.

you collapse in the field and he finds a safe place to hide the both of you from dangerous eyes, using his Lay on Hands ability to channel his magic into healing.

you try to apologise but a finger to your lips silences you, and all you can do is watch in quiet wonder as he burns the infection out with his Paladin's light.

when you're better he gently chides you. tells you that you have people relying on your leadership, and that a problem shared means there are more heads working on how to fix it.

when he sees how sorry you are lets you cuddle into him. when you say you'll repay him, he insists your happiness and well-being is enough for an old warrior like him.

does take the kiss you offer, though. he's been wanting to do that for a while...

[candyk0rn]

Cuddles : BG3

It’s been a while! I hope you’re all doing great, and I’m sorry for once more going on a forever break lol. But of course, Baldurs Gate 3 brainrot is so real

Before reading: Fluff, headcanons, Astarion, Lae’Zel, Gale, Shadowheart x reader (separate), gn reader

Astarion:

“Oh? I see you still can’t say no to my endless charm..”

At the beginning of the relationship, touches and prodding aren’t uncommon

Anything that can bring your attention to him

It takes a while and a lot of convincing from you that his somewhat risqué touches was not all that pleased you

And eventually he can even process that you don’t just love him for his body

Although hard for him to realize, with your help he can

So after your relationship has really blossomed and grown, his touches become softer, calmer, more intimate

Nights by the crackling fire, you in his lap, his hand massaging your nape

His fingers are dangerously cold against your skin, but there’s a sense of comfort that comes with the chill

Although he will brush off your reassurance as pitiful and unneeded..

Please reassure him omg

For the longest time, he will surely believe you are like all his other conquests,

Seduced by him and his charms

But just small whispers of love into his ear, your comforting touch against his skin

That’s enough for him.

Gale:

“Come with me, we shall rest under the stars tonight.”

I am of the firm believer that Gale is horribly touch-starved, poor man

Taken advantage of by his own Goddess, thinking that that is the best he would ever be able to do

Then when you come along, it all changed

His thoughts about himself seem to change, his standards seem to change, his love seems to change

He cares so much about you, he cannot help but think he is not worthy

That a cursed, unfaithful man as himself could never even breathe the same air as you

But all of his doubts and worries seem to melt away when you two hold one another underneath the stars

Your fingers lovingly combing through his hair as he rambles on about something he is passionate about

Wether it be a book, his expertise in magic, or Tara (lmao)

Others would shove him off as a show-off, annoying, etc

But you are so willing to hear him go on and on, that he can’t help but love you

His index finger instinctively draws shapes into your back when you hold each other

When he’s cuddled up with you, his worries that today might be his last don’t even cross his mind

He’s more worried about you, how you feel, if you’re comfortable

He doesn’t care if tonight is the last night he shall ever see you

He’d rather die tomorrow than live for an eternity never knowing you

Lae’Zel:

“Chk..I do not take part in worthless acts of intimacy.”

Lae’Zel is not much of a ‘cuddles’ person

Like at all…

She’d rather feel the thrill of battle with you, bathing in the blood of your enemies

Her way of loving is slaughtering anyone who even just looks at you the wrong way

But, if you’re particularly lucky, or especially down

She can’t help but..pity you

In her mind, it’s such a disgusting feeling. This ‘love’ makes her weak, but she cannot run from it no matter how much she tries

The most touch you’ll get from her will only occur in private

A hand perched protectively on your hip or waist

Her head slumped on your shoulder when you’re on watch for the night

acts like this, although small

It means so,so much from her

And she’ll kill you if you go telling Shadowheart about how ‘sweet’ she was being last night

Shadowheart:

“My love…ugh. I’m still not used to calling someone that.”

Shadowheart is lost when it comes to you

Not only is she horribly confused that you of all people would love her

She’s confused as to how she’s supposed to love you

Her entire life, for what she can remember, she’s never been shown comfort or remorse

If she did something wrong, she was punished

She doesn’t remember a single moment in her life when she was loved the way you love her

And although grateful, she feels unworthy

Hugs are common with her, of course in private, but common nonetheless

When she hold you in her arms, the pads of her fingers massage your back lovingly, worried if she lets go, you’ll flee

Let! Her! Play! With! Your! Hair! 🙏🏻

And please play with hers omg

At night, she’ll let her hair down and allow your hands to explore her long, black (or white) locks

Your touch sends shivers down her spine, a feeling she’s not used to, but craves so much

She truly hopes that you’ll never leave her, for now that she has tasted your touch,

She never wants that sensation to leave

Thanks for reading!

[devnmon]

bloodletting // a.a.

Summary: You're afraid of being judged when your time of the month comes, and Astarion being Astarion... is enthused.

Warnings: period oral, mentions of blood and menstruation!

wc: 2.2k

Astarion was always confident he could read you like a book. Though one certainly long day of adventuring passes by without you both speaking, and he's unsure why you're downright avoiding him.

He was confused, yet intrigued, by your attitude. Standoffish, pushing him away, generally the way you never acted, especially towards him.

That is, until he caught a whiff of you. It wasn't a different odor than he'd had the privilege of tasting before, just more potent.

More… fragrant.

Pheromones of yours wafting in the air, coming from one known source: you.

The vampire's thoughts wracked him as to what could've been throwing you off this much that you'd push him away this much. You'd consistently talk his ear off about anything crossing your mind.

And Astarion, the man he is, would always listen intently.

For you to spend your day glued to the girls' side all day raised some questions with him. Of course he understood if you were in need of space, but for you to not let him know at the very least-- well, he was a little puzzled.

But in fact it was when he found you crouched over, groaning in pain while washing your hands off in a stream. It was then he realized what you were cleaning your hands of.

"Well, well. Now I know why you've been avoiding me. Are you going to act like I can't smell you, darling? A vampire's senses are much stronger than a human's, don't you know?"

Freezing in your place, you turn to meet the smug face of one certain companion of yours catching you literally red-handed. A flush of heat rushed across your skin like wildfire, caught in his tantalizing gaze.

"You know, I don't mind it, if you know what I mean. That is why you've been avoiding me all day, correct?" His arms crossing over his broad chest said enough about how astonished he was with you hiding this from him. He didn't take kindly to being avoided, especially not if it was something so personal as this.

You stood a few feet away while attempting to collect yourself, clutching a used pair of undergarments in one hand.

"Astarion–" you began, failing to convince the dashing man before you of anything but what he already knew. Nothing that bad would have you tragically trying to hide it from him, of all people.

"No, no… don't even try to explain yourself." The smirk on his face was telling enough, low voice of his ringing out again, "You thought I'd, what, be drawn away from you? It's blood, darling."

"Of course not. I just… didn't know how you'd react. I've got terrible pains most days on our travels and I've had to beg our healer to cure me every day since it started. It's been so heavy that I've had to refresh myself way too often... which is exactly what I was doing when you found me here." You wrung your hands between one another, before the vampire stepped closer and took them into his.

"Love, you should know I would never judge you. If you needed a little relief, all you had to do was ask. It's what I'm here for, to ease your struggles. Make things alright when they're not." One of his hands moved a lock of hair out of your face and behind your ear before cupping your cheek with his palm.

Impulsively, you leaned into his touch, one you always chased every time Astarion lay his hands of velvet on you.

"Just knowing how you feel about it is a huge relief. I didn't know what to do or what to say to you... hence me being by the girls' side all day long. Just figured talking out how to tell you about it with them would help because I was nervous. And I wouldn't ask you to do something like that for me."

Astarion picked up on your cheeks reddening whilst you mentioned the idea of an act so intimate. He knew you weren't one for coming to him first about things to try in the bedroom; you'd rather let him take the lead and find out what you liked through that.

But this was about you being in pain, and if getting between your legs to quite literally suck you dry eased some of it, he'd gladly be first in line for that experience.

"What if I... offered? Does that change anything about the way you feel? Maybe it would give you some respite from those pains you've been complaining about. You know I can do things you can't get from a cleric, darling."

Your eyes widened a bit at his proposition, a strong heat beginning to stir inside you.

"A-Are you sure? I mean I know you're a vampire and all, but do you really mean that?"

"I'd ravish you every minute you'd allow me. This isn't any different. I crave you, in all ways. Your pleasure is mine, and I want to show you just how much I mean it." His thumb swiped across your cheek softly, to which you looked at him and nodded, watching his lips curl into a smirk.

Within the grasp of his other hand, he finds the soiled underwear still soaked with red. Luckily, his nimble rogue hands had taken the cloth before you could notice it was gone.

His lips pressed to your neck, ghosting kisses over your skin while listening in on your blood pumping. Chill kisses of his were much needed after rushing to clean yourself up.

The ruby eyes of your lover darkened with an inking of mischief, before he was guiding your body to lay down for him, placing a rag under your hips.

Your garments had been tossed off to the side, with Astarion's hands parting your thighs. He took a deep breath, the scent of you intoxicating him to another level. You could've sworn his eyes sparkled with desire before his head moved between your thighs.

Astarion dragged his tongue through your folds long and slow, parting easily with the amount of blood your body had already shed.

"Mmm… this is an experience I'll think about forever. The sheer act of you giving your body to me in such a way... Like a tying of souls, for infinity. Makes me love you even more. If that's possible." He spoke again, that accent of his making a hot blush cover your cheeks.

"No, please don't stop. Oh, gods- Astarion..." you breathed, running a hand through his curls and gripping tightly.

The vampire's tongue slid over your entrance this time, up through your folds and right over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You let out gasps of his name followed by moans when he begun to circle it with just the tip of his tongue. Astarion drank up every part of you more easily than he thought he could. He was infatuated.

Diving in deeper, he hooked your thighs around his shoulders, relishing in the taste of you further. You were trembling beneath him already, but he was able to wrap his biceps around them and hold you down.

Seeing him smitten with the taste of you while making his own sounds of pleasure from it sent you further into a haze of pleasure.

Astarion considered this the closest you two had ever been, like a binding of souls that lasted for eternity. He would gladly travel Avernus and back for you if given the chance.

His tongue traveled through your folds once again, stopping right over your entrance before sticking his tongue inside to lap up more of you.

"Oh, gods. You're good at that…" you whimpered, hips stuttering against the pale elf's grip. You're much more sensitive to his touches than when not on your cycle, the way your hips swayed, and your breasts swelled, it felt silly to think you didn't come to him sooner.

Once he came up for air, you caught the glimmer in his eye that noted his enjoyment of it all. Painted his face with you, a testament to how devoted he was entirely to you.

"So perfect, my love… I doubt anyone else's gotten the chance to have you like this. I'm the luckiest in all of Faerûn."

Astarion placed his hand on your lower torso, right above where your pubic line starts, and presses his palm firmly onto your abdomen.

Somehow your body melded to his in an instant, responding to his touch with another gush between your thighs.

It heightened your pleasure and though you knew he was drinking your blood, there were no words to describe how erotic it was seeing yours all over his mouth.

He controls his tongue's movements through you like it's breathing, flitting over your clit with fervent need to taste.

"Fuck... Astarion, please- ah! It hurts..." you whimpered, a cramp running through your body.

"Another one of your pains?" The pale elf inquired, the sudden loss of his mouth debilitating after all his stimulation. You nodded to him, attempting to hold back your sounds of discomfort.

"Let's see what we can do about that..." His mouth thankfully returned to your aching heat, the red of your blood messily lathered upon his face. Both his hands slide around your waist, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your lower abdomen.

Although Astarion's skin was naturally cool to the touch, the light blue glow from his palms was even cooler in the moment. Instantly your cramps disintegrated, thanks to the healing scrolls he kept on hand.

"Your touch is life changing, my star... What would I ever do without you?" you sigh, throwing your head back in relief when he lowered his head back down.

He chuckles before circling his tongue around your clit, causing you to tug on his hair again while your hips stutter underneath him. Astarion breathes you in with another inhale, the crimson taste on his tongue more decadent than he's ever had.

To hold you in his arms and find himself getting to worship at the temple that is your body, he was certain this was where he was meant to be.

With the way you sighed with content, he was sure the little healing spell he'd cast was in effect.

A blaring heat rushes through you when he prods a finger into your opening, watching as a bit of blood seeps onto his palm. Sensual moans of his vibrated against you, sucking lightly on your clit again in sync with the movements of his fingers.

It’s as though you feel the knot between you two loop together, freeing you in time and space where you lay from any contradictory feelings you had. About to squeeze your eyes shut, you hear Astarion’s voice in your mind.

Doing so well for me, gods, you taste exquisite…

You’re blushing furiously at the echoes of his silken voice, laid within his body mind and soul. Part of you still holds the shame that comes from within, combatting the thoughts that pull your mind away from him.

I admire you to the rings of saturn and back, no one else has such a hold over me like you.

Every move he makes is soft and doting, as if you would break lest he move too quick. Astarion’s words chip away at the highest wall of masked vulnerability you’d built up. It’s brief, the sheer embarrassment you’re utterly soaked in, before his words ring out in your head a final time.

I’m here. Let go, darling. You’re mine, evermore

His fingers continue to plunge inside you, thinking only of your pleasure as your body explodes for him. Astarion continues to work you through euphoria, as your back arches under him.

An ever so slight ache of need washes over your entire body, goosebumps rising on the soft skin.

“There you go, so good for me.” Astarion’s voice breaks the silence, the only other sound your panting breath and stream of water nearby.

Astarion knows he’s just orchestrated the most wonderful oblivion of sensuality and just cannot help himself.

Once more he runs his tongue through you, lingering taste of you on his tongue. He lifts himself from you, palms running softly over the skin of your thighs before helping you sit up.

His curls were nothing but a mess from your tugging, and even though you were the one given pleasure, he held the same blissed out glowy look you did.

“Thank you, Astarion. That was… like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I’m truly the lucky one. How can I ever repay you…”

Before he even has a chance to clean himself up, you’re pulling him in for a kiss and tasting yourself on his lips. What you once considered cowardly and disgusting was now filled with love and devotion. Nothing would compare.

“Nevermind repaying me. You’ve all but let me suck you bloodless like so many nights before. I’ll be glowing by the time we wake tomorrow. Now, let’s get some rest. Shall we?”

Astarion begins to stand, holding out a hand for you to grasp as he pulls you to your feet.

“Is there anyone more perfect than you, Astarion?” you asked, sighing with satisfaction.

“I highly doubt it.” he snarked.

“Hm. Good, because you’re the keeper of my heart. All my love belongs to you.”

His hand brought one of yours to his lips, kissing it softly before interlocking his fingers with yours with a smile as the both of you walked back to camp.

[justporo]

I'm desperately trying to get things done before the end of the year and thought: man, I'd like Astarion telling me to concentrate and keep going. So I quickly wrote this as a reminder to myself that Astarion would believe in me and tell me to keep it up - maybe it helps you too...

Astarion is watching you and he'd much rather you focus again, love!

“You’re distracted again, love”, Astarion whispered to you and softly squeezed you where his hands were on your hips.

“Oh, am I?”, you snarled and tried to turn around - but the vampire wouldn’t let you. So you only turned your head to glower at him.

You sat comfortably on his lap and tried to get writing done you desperately needed to get finished. For hours you had tried but it just had been an uphill battle the whole time.

Not wanting to just keep listening to your complaints, Astarion had come over and softly nudged you to get up so he could sit down and gently place you down on his lap. You had let it happen with a soft sigh, already feeling a bit better with his presence surrounding you.

“My love, if your writing is as colourful as your curses that must be a masterpiece already”, he had said in a low teasing tone.

And you had chuckled hysterically and then almost started to cry. When you had wanted to bury your face in your hands, Astarion had caught your wrists and leaned as close as possible to gently whisper to you.

“I know you can do this, my heart”, he had whispered directly into your ear, making all your hairs stand on end. “You’re brilliant, my sweet, utterly incredible - this stack of paper just doesn’t know it yet”, he had continued while his hands had reassuringly massaged your arms and shoulders.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind”, you had replied still not fully convinced.

Astarion had made a low noise of disapproval, then he had wrapped his arms completely around your waist and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Be a dear then, remind me again, how clever and amazing you are”, he had demanded of you. And then he had went on to talk everything through with you. Making you spell out all of your concerns, what you had planned, what you wanted to achieve.

And in talking about it with him you already felt how the knots in your stomach and in your head seemed to loosen, if just a little.

When you had reached a point where you had felt motivated again to jump back into writing, Astarion had smiled victoriously to himself and had kept watching you work. Evenly stroking down your back in a calming, steadying manner he had leaned his head on his hand, propped up on the side of the chair, and admired how beautiful you looked when you were so deep in your thoughts. How you furrowed your brows, how you tapped the quill against the paper in impatience when a word didn’t come to you immediately.

And he made sure you wouldn’t distract yourself more than needed by calling you out whenever your mind seemed to wander. Just like he had just done.

“Maybe you are distracting me”, you pouted at the vampire while he tapped the tip of your nose with his index finger with a grin.

“Exactly the opposite, darling”, he replied and you saw the sparkle in his red eyes. Softly but with determination he grabbed your chin and turned your head away from him and angled it down: towards your stack of papers and the unfinished writing.

“Focus now and write, my dear, I’ll reward you for it later, if you’re going to be a good girl now”, Astarion promised in a low, almost rumbly voice and pressed a kiss directly behind your ear, making you shiver.

You took a deep breath and took up your work again - you needn’t be told twice now.

Your vampire proudly kept watching you: “Keep going, you beautiful thing!”

~~~ And now I really need to get back to my own writing - abdwelfqwdwg...

(Sorry, forgot tags, ah): Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop - Part 2

Summary: Seeing as part one went well, I present to you the continuation but this time, from Astarion's point of view. Thank you all so much for your support. It makes me so happy to know the fandom is enjoying my work.

He honestly doesn't know what Tav wants from him or why she keeps stirring weird emotions in him and she only further confuses when she presents him with a thoughtful gift.

There will be a part 3. Tav is not mentioned by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.2k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Astarion never considered himself particularly lucky but he knew how to adapt to situations beyond his control – keep himself alive and everything. He’d proven himself to be talented enough to seduce well, just about anyone.

Just about anybody it would seem but not a single member of the strangest group imaginable, also known as the one he’d chosen to travel with.

Because luck would mean the most frustrating woman in the world would be the one he aimed to… shall he say, convince about the benefits of staying close to his side.

Oh, she wasn’t exactly immune to his charms. He could see the effects when he moved close to her and her lips curled into a natural smile, attention flickering to him in anticipation of what he wanted to say. She brushed against his shoulder whenever she wanted to pass and laughed at his snide remarks.

All the things that he would usually consider a success; a sign he’d managed to win her heart in some form.

But then, she also went and did the absolute opposite.

Instead of pulling him aside in the camp when he offered and allowing him to drag his lips along her throat, she dragged him into the middle of the group to socialize. She leaned into his touches and then ran off to help save another puppy or whatever else caught her attention.

It annoyed Astarion because he knew she liked him but he didn’t know what she wanted from him. They’d spent one evening together and she appeared keen on more but then rather spent her nights teaching an owlbear how to sit.

Admittedly, a very cute pastime but still.

She ran a bath for him, washed his hair, and then promptly left him alone in the water instead of joining him for some fun. If he understood, he could easily provide but she made the first part infuriatingly difficult.

“Alright,” he said after she’d caught him staring into a blank mirror and spurned agitation in him by reminding him that he didn’t, in fact, know what colour his eyes once were. “Tell me what you see when you look at me. Surely you can describe my appearance well enough.”

She giggled and put a hand to her chin, as though considering. “I think we’d be sitting here the whole night if I did that. You’re so pretty, it’s unfair.”

Pride curled hot in his chest and his irritation simmered. Amazing how easily she managed to do such a thing. “Oh? Then name your favourite.”

She reached out to brush a strand of hair away from his face, freezing only when the action had already startled both of them. Astarion wondered why she stopped for only a second before he realised he’d shifted away from the touch, a movement done on instinct rather than thought.

Shit. That wasn’t going to help him.

She dropped her hand as though nothing happened. “I refuse to believe becoming a vampire changed you that much. There’s no way you weren’t this gorgeous before.”

She knew how to appeal to his vanity and the strangest thing about it was, he didn’t feel as though she did it on purpose. Her ceaseless flattery came naturally to her.

“It’s been over two hundred years since I last saw it and memories fade.”

A lie but not an important one. He remembered everything since the day he woke up in his coffin, panicked and struggling to breath though he didn’t need to. The pain of transforming, the agony of starvation, and unending confusion. Nothing slipped away and he hated it. Despised how the memories shoved their way forward.

But for now, he refused to think of them and instead waited to see what she thought of. She pressed her lips together tightly before she spoke.

“The first thing I noticed when I met you were your eyes. They’re red, obviously, but they’re also strong and piercing. You also get these crinkles beside them when you laugh.”

Again with the strangest compliments. Still, he took them in his stride this time. “That’s better. What else?”

“The way you smile. It’s dangerous and sharp but occasionally, genuine. It’s enough to charm anybody, I would say.”

He offered her a smile in response, pleased with the praise. He preened beneath her pretty words and happily took the knowledge close to heart. Meaningless flattery had always been one of his favourite things.

“Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we’ll call it a day.”

She laughed and tilted her head to the side. “You’re beautiful. I thought that much was obvious.”

But something in the way she said it ruined everything. She took the most boring compliment of the lot and meant it deeper than all the others. The teasing tone easily exposed the truth and the pride disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now was there any real reason for you to make your way over here?”

She didn’t really want anything but he’d almost expected it. Everything she found on their journey eventually got shared with him and today, she spoke about some woman’s letter she’d found. Nothing important.

Astarion thought that would be the end of it.

He continued to flatter her to make sure she always preferred him above their other companions and was rewarded when she continued to seek him out first. An entirely selfish action truly but she offered him a path forward.

The others had their strengths but something about her united them the best. If a chance existed where he could retain this ability to stand in the sun, he had no doubt she would be his best way there.

Even if she did insist on carrying about so much nonsense she found whenever they went out and helped every person with the smallest problems.

But then she found an empty book lying on the floor somewhere and she immediately began staring at him whenever it was open, scribbling away inside but always staring at him over the edges. Every time he offered her a quizzical glance, she smiled and continued with whatever she was doing.

She showed it to Wyll and Gale a few times but never brought it over for him to see.

Of course, if Astarion really wanted to, he could find what waited in those pages easily.

The parasite provided an easy path forward but she would know he wanted something when he dug around in her head. He didn’t sleep most nights but she rested deeply; deeply enough to allow a vampire to drink from her throat without even waking her like the true fool she was.

She knew, even laughed when he complimented her the next morning, but never once complained, just told him he was welcome back whenever.

Originally, he thought she may be too trusting but he learned quickly how wrong that assumption was. She didn’t believe most of the people who tried to sway her to their side; straightened her back and glared when they tried to trick her and often even stood between them and her companions.

Which meant, somehow, he’d earned her trust.

Ridiculously stupid as it was for her to trust him, he didn’t want to lose the privilege and so he left her book alone until the next time she spent too long staring over its top.

“I do hope you’re writing something fun in those pages,” he said. “If you let me read them, I’m sure we can make them happen.”

She laughed at the suggestion. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just trying to draw you.”

He lowered his goblet a little in confusion, unsure how to respond to such a thing. “Draw me?”

“Well, you complained so much about not being able to see yourself in the mirror so I thought this would be the next best option. Come here and I’ll show you.”

She patted the spot on the ground beside her but Astarion didn’t move. Of all the things he’d expected from her, he hadn’t anticipated a recall of the strange conversation from before. Certainly not for her to have spent several days on such a thing.

“Come on,” she welcomed him. “I’m not horrible at art, I promise.”

He shook off the surprise and forced a laugh. “My apologies, I got distracted watching those adorable cheeks of yours flush. It’s absolutely delicious to see the way the sun burns your skin.”

“Oh, that wasn’t the sun,” she said. “If you’re talking about this.” She twisted a little so he could see a deeper red mark on her chest and where it curled over her shoulder. “You know the chest I kept fiddling with beneath the grove? Turns out it was trapped but don’t worry, Shadowheart promised it would fade with time.”

He honestly hadn’t been speaking of anything but he found himself annoyed at her for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “Well, I suppose that’s what you must deal with when you’re obsessed with looting everything we come across.”

“It’s profitable,” she teased. “Now do you want to see what I’m drawing or not?”

He took his time to saunter over and sink into a relaxed seat beside her. The sun had begun to set and its final rays danced over her skin as she shifted closer, leg brushing against his own as she turned the pages to him.

“It’s not perfect,” she warned. “You’re not an easy person to capture on the page but it’s something.”

True to her words, the book had been filled with sketches from the front to the back. Some crude and others detailed but every single one was of him. Close ups, full bodies, and even a few in action with daggers drawn. Had she truly drawn them from memory alone?

“I keep getting frustrated when they don’t come out right,” she said. She leaned back so she was lying against the grass, attention on the sky. “I’ve asked the others but they can’t tell what I’m doing wrong either. They’re just not right.”

He turned the pages slowly, not sure how he should respond to a gift like this.

Seeing his face showed truth to her words. He hadn’t changed awfully much in these years. The great care put into this though… she’d spent ages detailing his hair on others and even put dapples of sunlight over others from when they’d been travelling through the forest.

They didn’t have many hobbies to pass the time while travelling (not unless you counted Lae’zel who appeared to be collecting more and more heads as they continued on) but this must have taken so much of her waking hours.

The emotion that crept up his throat was unwelcome and difficult to recognise. It made his unbeating heart twist uncomfortably and he immediately snapped the book shut.

She nudged him to get his attention. “Well? What do you think? We can hire a professional when we reach a bigger city but it’s a temporary solution.”

He forced the smile and it felt wrong. “I doubt even a professional will capture me right. It’s as you said, difficult to capture perfection.”

She laughed. “I’ll try again tomorrow but with our plans, I think you’re going to be in a foul mood and I don’t want to draw you when you’re sulking.”

“Me? Sulk? I couldn’t possibly imagine why when you’re making me trudge through a swamp.”

She grinned and for a second, the briefest moment, he felt something tug on his chest when he looked at her. Fondness. His panic flared immediately and he turned his gaze away, uncomfortable suddenly with the attention she lavished upon him.

Curse her and her ridiculous book. Yet another strange aspect of her life – one that tempted him to flee in the middle of the night and never return to this group and their insistence on helping people.

But he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t give up the safety provided by them yet.

“I’ll be happy to take this off your hands darling,” he said to her, holding up the book. “Keep it safe and make sure it doesn’t disappear in the night.”

“You will not. It’s mine until I get at least one drawing of you right and then you can have it.”

He leaned over her, placing one hand on the ground beside her hip. “Wouldn’t you rather the real thing? We can make some references for more enticing artwork in the future.”

She stared at him, briefly frozen as he drifted a faint touch over her thigh. The flare of lust in her eyes made him comfortable again. This was something he understood. An emotion he recognised. She still wanted him; she must if she spent all this time trying to draw him.

She moved closer and her breath brushed over his cheeks, her eyes locked on his.

He waited, about to close the gap, when she suddenly kissed him on the nose, grabbed the book from his hand, and rolled away with a laugh.

Astarion was left blinking as she tucked the book into her pouch.

“I’ll let you have it when I’m done but that does sound like fun. Unfortunately, this evening though, I managed to talk Wyll into giving me some dance lessons so I’m booked. You should join if you feel up to it.”

He huffed and tried not to let the strange jealousy return as she ducked away towards the others.

Taglist: @rosenightwings , @tragicdruid , @bloopthebat , @venus-wrts

[i-made-a-bg3-blog]

Look, it’s not like Astarion intended on becoming a Harper, it’s just - well, burglary and pickpocketing are a little more difficult when you can’t enter homes without an invitation or go outside during the day, and he’s grown rather accustomed to a certain elevated lifestyle. There are other places he could turn to for money: the city owes him an estate and a title at the bare minimum. But, there’s something to be said for self-sufficiency, and, though he hates to admit it, he wouldn’t make it through three weeks as a noble without being bored out of his mind.

The Harpers need warm bodies (or cold ones, as it were) to rebuild their ranks after Orin’s doppelgangers, and Jaheira’s a savvy old crone who never learned to take no for an answer. She pinpoints Astarion’s two weak spots: a heavy coinpurse and kidnapped children, street kids, the kind no one would miss.

They’re decidedly amateurish criminals, and it doesn’t take him long to track them down and dispatch them, messily and painfully. Four children sit huddled in a cage, and Astarion knows he must look every bit the monster as he picks the lock with hands covered in gore, but they don’t shy away in fear when he opens the door. One of them slips his chubby little hand into Astarion’s and refuses to let go until they reach the safehouse. It’s…odd.

“Good work, Harper,” Jaheira tells him after, and Astarion makes it explicitly clear that he’s simply an independent contractor, an expensive one. 

Jaheira just smirks like the witch she is.

So he contracts. He infiltrates the Guild (and feels insulted when Nine Fingers doesn’t recognize him; he’d like to think he’s rather unforgettable), foils an assassination plot or three, even teams up with Minsc and a turncoat Thayan to stop a gaggle of Red Wizards from doing…whatever it is they do. It’s a good business, he supposes. A hero’s reputation is a small price to pay for a hero’s coffers.

Jaheira’s wise enough to know when to hang up her blades, and it makes her more of an insufferable busybody than ever, which - somehow - becomes Astarion’s problem. First, it’s his own cell, then suddenly he’s the field contact for four others. He’s dragged to the most dreadfully tedious logistical meetings imaginable. The only reason he agrees to any of it is that Jaheira can turn an offhand comment and a raised eyebrow into the kind of challenge that itches beneath Astarion’s skin. It should be all too familiar and just as unwelcome, that burning need to prove himself, but it’s not. It’s different, perhaps, when he isn’t being set up to fail.

Jaheira passes away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe old age of one hundred and ninety-two, and Astarion’s convinced he can hear her grumbling about that all the way from the Fugue Plane. She would have rather gone out fighting, but, privately, Astarion feels like she deserved something gentler than bleeding out on a battlefield. He never did tell her how much he admired her (though he doubts she would have appreciated such open sentiment: ‘I did not realize I looked so terrible that you’ve already started my eulogy.’), but she must have known. He thinks he’s really going to miss her.

Right up until the moment Rion is handing him a pin and leading him to a library full of dossiers and documents. Then, he’s ready to cross the Astral Sea just so that he can bring her back and kill her again. Independent. Contractor. What part of that did she not understand? 

He goes home and locks the door with the full intention of ignoring every Harper that comes knocking. But Harpers are nosy little shits, and after he nearly disembowels one who surprises him by breaking into his house just to tell him the most idiotic plan to dismantle a smuggling ring he’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, he realizes hiding isn’t going to be an option. Besides, Astarion cannot be privy to such levels of incompetence and sit idly by. 

So he helps. Provisionally. Just long enough to find a decent replacement, and then he can wash his hands of the whole thing.

Unfortunately, it’s not as easy a task as he had hoped. Every potential candidate lacks something: consistency, creativity, confidence, the common sense to understand Astarion’s eminently logical filing system. It takes him three decades to accept that not only is he excellent at the job, but that he enjoys it immensely. 

When they make him take a title, he chooses Spymaster. It suits him - dashing, mysterious, questionably moral, because he’s never been a hero, and it would be foolish to pretend that he is.

They all call him High Harper anyways.

[starfall-dream]

Yandere Baldur's Gate x Isekai Reader Concept

I wanted to expand on my concept in hopes that people would be more interested in it. This won't get into every single character I want to write for, in fact this will pretty broad, so please feel free to ask me to expand on any ideas I didn't get into concept.

Also, for this concept, I'm including default (whitedragon, storm Sorcery) Durge, who is the Tav in my concept. I'll be using they/them pronouns for them and reader.

This mainly goes over act one, and if people are interested, I'll explore more of act 2 and 3, so please tell me what you think.

Again please send in any ideas or things you want me to expand on.

---

You didn't remember how you arrived here, nor do you know how the tadpole entered your head, but there was no use lamenting your situation now. All you did remember was going to sleep one night, your head banging in your head, but that wasn't unusual. When you awoke, you weren't on your bed, but instead on a beach, sand covering your body. 

It was lonely, being in this strange new world. From the moment you woke up on that beach, you knew you didn't belong, and you could feel every essence of your being rejecting the notion that you should be here. But despite that, you remained, mountains of responsibility placed upon you from the moment you realized where you were. Your companions, if you could even call them that, were cordial at best. You could tell that most of them didn't believe your story, thought you were crazy, spouting nonsense of other worlds. Some were nice, namely the wizard Gale and the more welcoming and kind Wyll, though you knew that their kindness was due to need rather than genuine feelings. 

The others were distrustful of you, but as their companion they had no other choice but to follow you. Astarion was the worst, at best his words were just petty teasing, while at worst he made you feel useless. You knew nothing, had very little survival skills, couldn't find your way around any weapons, in his words "hopeless." You tried your best to get along with him and your other companions, but it was often for not. 

The only companion you really found yourself close to was Tav, the more leader-like of the group. The best way to describe them is spacey, staring off into the world, often alone with their thoughts. It was difficult getting used to them at first, you've never seen someone like them before, but they were the only ones to accept you in the beginning. They taught you how to survive in this world, helping alongside Wyll in teaching you how to fight, at least with a sword. It made you feel at least a bit more prepared for your journey ahead, and you didn't have to listen to Astarion's judgmental words any more. 

While Tav was more of the leader, you were always more inclined to help people. You liked the Tieflings, especially the curious children, so it didn't take much to convince you into helping them. It felt...nice, having people's hope, helping people, though you didn't truly know what it entailed. Having to protect your companions, keep them away from the danger that seemed oh so attracted to them, it was a lot of work. Part of you wondered if helping the grove, saving these people, if it would prove your worth to your companions, and for some, it did. Shadowheart was appreciative of the work you put in, though she seemed unable to express it. 

In fact, you felt as though you were growing closer to your companions, at least partially. Gale would show off his magic, he loved it. After finding Karlach and learning more about Wyll, he seemed very obsessed with making sure you knew how to protect yourself. It was easy to befriend Halsin, he was so nice and understanding, as well as understanding as he could be. You even started to help the other companions with their personal issues as their trust in you started to get better. You caught Astarion mending some of your clothes one night, you think Lae'zel complimented you fighting style once, but you really couldn't tell, and Karlach was always encouraging. It felt nice, even if it was all very small acts of kindness. 

Though, throughout your journey, you found yourself worried over Tav. They were always more inclined towards violence, they were intimidating, quiet, but they were a friend to you, and so when they confided in you about their violent urges, something they strived to overcome, you vowed to help them. You could tell your words meant a lot to them, and as they promised to protect you on your journey, despite what path they take, the choice of words slightly worries you, but you trust them, and you were happy to have a friend. 

Meeting Halsin was a breath of fresh air, he seemed to genuinely notice the work you were putting in, offering to help you with your tadpole problem and travel with you on your journey. Your companions seemed to like the fact that a confident healer was finally amongst the party, and for once, after saving the grove and helping the Tieflings, you felt at peace. During their celebratory party, you spend most of your time alone, occasionally being checked up on by the animal companions you've found along the way. Zevlor offered you a drink, and in a tipsy daze, you confided in him about your worries and fears, you talked for hours and it was nice and Zevlor seems sympathetic, even claiming to miss you while they were traveling, and made you promise to find him in Baldur's Gate. 

You promised him, and as the Tieflings left, you found a small amount of dread sinking in. Your companions were still wary of you, and now you were traveling into a more dangerous land. You wondered if it would always be this way, but you knew you would have to keep brave, even if you knew you would never belong despite all your efforts. All you could hope for was hope for change, and keep a strong facade for your companions and yourself.

---

A/n: Again, I wasn't able to go into characters like Zevlor or Raphael as much as I wanted to, so please feel free to send in any ideas or headcanons you have about them or any other characters, I'd love to here them :)

[little-autumn-serenade]

Gosh I love Astarion's story and his romance. The idea of him reclaiming ownership of his body and of sex and it not having to be a performative act or something he has to do all the time because someone else wants it and being something he chooses to do because he cares about someone and wants to rather than because he feels it is something he has to do for various reasons. I love that we have this character who comes across so sexual and yet actually, has an arc that sees him finally having bodily autonomy and using it and utilising it.

Apparently people have complained about the fade to black in the scene after his quest if you convince him he's better than Cazador, the graveyard scene. Apparently, 'dark Astarion' scene is not a fade to black. But I had no problems with it. It's very symbolic of sex no longer being performative for him and I think, a character like Astarion actually benefits from that. You can write all the smut you want with him in your free time, but the reality is that it fits with his character arc, it makes sense for him to move away from performative sexual acts in the view of the audience, under a gaze, and move towards private acts which are wanted by him and which reflect his feelings towards the MC. I mean that whole entire scene is him talking about how he doesn't really know who he was or who he is and how he wants to move forward and grow.

Astarion can be sexy and hot and also not simply a sexual object for your MC and you to gawk at. I like the depth to him, I adored his story of taking ownership of his body. I adore that he loves the MC because they are kind to him and respect his boundaries and give him choice. I love him and I love him growing and discovering himself and taking back autonomy and I think if you care about a character and their arc and if your MC cares about that character then that character saying 'hey, I actually don't want to just have sex with you', shouldn't be something you whine and complain about, you should feel a sense of respect towards that. I think a sexy vampire actually caring more about you than sex or your blood is actually a great take for once, vampires are so symbolic of a lack of control, of uncontrollable lust and thirst and whims. So to see him have that sense of self and also sense of control about him is actually refreshing. He is in control, and he is learning what he wants and what he deserves.

Idk, I just really love his story and I fell so head over heels for the sassy vampire spawn and how he actually really cares and is deeply scared of so many things. I adore him and I think we should respect his storyline and enjoy it because how many times do we actually get a storyline like that?

[gaysindistress]

Can I request headcanons for Gale, Wyll, Astarion, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor with shy gn s/o who would go out of their way to help others whenever they can please?

This request is so cute and sweet 🥹 I hope you enjoy it my love💓

Bg3 masterlist

Gale

I think he would be the least surprised that you’re the one who always helps others. After all you did pull this mans from an unstable magic black hole without a second thought. He’d also probably get the most excited because he gets to spend time with you and watch you in your element!

He’d tease you about being shy but in a very gentle way with the most loving shy. Please don’t imagine him smiling down at you whilst brushing back a strand of hair and gazing into your eyes as he tells you how kind hearted you are.

On the flip side he’s going to be stern with you if you take on more than you can handle. He will be canceling all plans and making you stay in bed all day if you wake up worse for wear after neglecting yourself in favor of helping others.

Wyll

Wyll would be the most charmed by your selfishness. He prides himself on being the Blade of the Frontiers, the man who signed a pact to protect his city. It would only be natural for him to be someone who matches his level of generosity.

As for your shyness, he would find it enduring that you’re able to sacrifice everything you have for others but you can’t bring yourself to say hello first. Wyll isn’t shy himself but he’s more on the reserved side especially when he’s not ‘working’.

Say that you helped some kid find their parents again and the kid is excitedly telling them how a hero helped them. The kid is gesturing to you who’s standing back and almost shrinking back into the shadows but Wyll won’t let you. I can see him subtly drawing closer to you and whispering into your ear words of encouragement, telling you that you should accept their praise. He knows how much you hate being the center of attention but he also thinks that your actions deserve to be acknowledged.

Astarion

I’m going back and forth between him being drawn to you for this or being lowkey annoyed about it. A part of me thinks your selfishness would be an attracting factor because you have done so much for him. On the other hand though, astarion has a lot of trauma and might see as a threat to your relationship.

At first he would be very upset if you helped others because he doesn’t understand how you can care for him and others at the same time. He’s so used to kindness being a double edged sword that he can’t see how you’re not that way.

After some time (and therapy) he’d be able to understand that this is just how you are and it doesn’t mean you love him any less. Obviously there are days where this is a struggle for him but overall he’s less threatened by it the longer you’re together.

You bet your ass that this rouge shit head will tease you endlessly about being shy especially if you make him help Dribbles the Clown. He’s out here convincing people that you have the cure to smelly armpits because he thinks it so funny to see your reaction when they ask you about it.

Halsin

you can’t tell me that this Druid doesn’t find your selflessness the most attractive part about you. Not only did you save the grove but you also helped him lift the shadow curse. He refused to put himself above the shadow curse until it was lifted but that entire time he’s P I N I N G over you. When he is able to confess his feelings to you, he’s down bad for you and the shy little smile you have whenever someone thanks you.

Since the request didn’t ask for suggestive hcs, I won’t go into full detail about this one but you’ll get the point. Anytime Halsin sees you doing something kind for a stranger, he’s whispering into your ear that you need to return to camp with a strained voice.

Your shyness isn’t something he even thinks about most of the time. He’s reserved much like Wyll but he’s also an observer. He’d rather be in nature or simply away from people so he’d be the type to ask you if a day at home would be okay rather than going into the city.

Dammon

Dammon radiates blue collar golden retriever energy to me and maybe that’s because he’s a blacksmith or maybe it’s because he’d be making you anything you asked for. You need some iron rods to reengineer your neighbors’ chicken coop so predators quit getting in? He’s on and it’ll be ready by noon. Your dagger is dull because you’ve been too busy helping the older lady across the street to even think about? He’ll wait until you’ve fallen asleep to sharpen it and you’ll find it all shiny in your sheath the next morning.

Out of everyone hes the most concerned about your safety. We know that he’s not the strongest or even a fighter so he’d be worried about you helping people without much hesitation.

Your shyness may also make it harder for you to deny people if they ask for help which only adds to his concern. There may or may not have been a few times where you’ve agreed to lend a hand when you really should be staying home and relaxing.

Rolan

anytime you tried to do something for him prior to your relationship, he took personal offense to it. I honestly don’t think he would be react well to someone like this. I think he would get upset if he noticed you going out of your way to help someone but would also get upset with himself for feeling this way. He wants people to mind their own business however it’s very kind of you to do so selfish even at your own expense.

He might see your shyness as a weakness and think that that is the reason why you’re out ‘doing other people’s dirty work’ as he puts it. At first he might be a little too harsh about it and would unintentionally hurt your feelings but over time he’s come to understand that this is simply who you are.

Secretly he thinks you’re brave for being this way but he’ll probably never tell you outright. He’ll be subtle and try to drop hints by complimenting you or telling others about your good deeds.

Zevlor

*dreamy sighing* the paladin is constantly in awe of your quiet and calming presence. He admires how your shyness doesn’t stop you from being a good person and helping others. Often times he’s congratulating you after all is said and done with a proud smile and kiss to your forehead.

This is also how you met so I think these attributes of yours are among his favorite. Without your willingness to stick your neck out like that, you would’ve never met and he doesn’t want to even think about that.

again since the request didn’t ask for suggestive hcs, I won’t go into full detail. Zevlor is good with words, he was a commander after all but they do fail him from time to time. So when this happens, you will be spending the foreseeable future in your bed being worshipped by this paladin.

[feyascorner]

7 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.9k words !!! this chapter took forever but somehow i managed!! thank you so much for your kind words and patience !!! he's kind of a silly guy in the chapter so pls enjoy this peace offering as the calm before a storm

“Are you sure this is the right course of action? Letting him ascend?” Shadowheart asks as you adjust one of the logs in the campfire, watching the other companions organize their tents from afar. You stop at this, turning to face her.

“It’s what he wants,” you mumble. “I won’t stop him if he’s sure this is the right thing to do.”

You’re still getting used to her hair, which’s now as white as a sheet, but you think it looks lovely against the fire. She seems calmer than she did when she was with Shar. At peace, almost. She casts you a sidelong glance. “Can we really trust his judgment of all people? He’s—I mean, well, him.”

“I know it sounds unreasonable," you say letting yourself sit down beside her on her bedroll. “But I want him to make his own decisions. He’s spent too many years having no choice of his own, and I’d be the worst person to take it away from him again.”

“I just,” her voice softens. “Astarion’s a complicated person, and I’m sure you know better than us. It’s because he couldn’t make his own choices for so long that it makes me think he’s lost his capability to make any choices anymore. Good ones, at least.”

“I trust him.”

“Gods knows how.”

You stifle a laugh, and she sips at her wine, eyes still glazing over the camp. There’s a kind of solemnness to them that makes your stomach churn. “You seem worried.”

“Not worried, per se,” she shrugs. “I just realize that I owe a debt to you for what you did for me against my lad—I mean, Shar. And I myself almost went down that dark path of becoming a Justiciar if it weren’t for you. At the time, I thought it was the best thing for me too, like Astarion believes ascension to be what will set him free.”

You nod patiently, urging her to continue.

“I only fear he might make the wrong choice if he doesn’t have the right guidance as I did.”

The words feel hesitant on her tongue. And although they make the voice in the back of your head, telling you to convince Astarion otherwise, louder, you ignore it, opting to smile at her softly instead. “Is this you caring about our companions?”

“Heavens, no,” she snorts, but there’s a joking tone behind her voice. “But like I said…I’m indebted to you all. Astarion also aided in my personal affairs with Shar, even if he didn’t have to, and even with his incessant complaining…I suppose this is my way of paying him back.”

Your chest warms. It’s soothing to know that even without you, your other companions have enough care for your lover to offer him bits of advice; in a way, it relieves a bit of weight off your shoulders. Even the companions who claim to detest his presence have grown fond of him over the months, and you’re sure it goes both ways. It helps because even if you’re gone, you know he’ll be okay.

“I never told you formally,” she sighs. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me or feel indebted. I just did what I could for you.”

“Don’t be so humble. What you’ve done for me—for all of us—is something we’ll cherish for the rest of our lives,” she takes her last swig from her wine. “But from one messed up person to another, please, be careful.”

Your wrist feels sore.

Two days. It’s been two days since the incident at the Blushing Mermaid, and still, your body seems to burn whenever you see his closed door across yours from the hall, and all you can do is rub shamefully at the healing puncture wounds on your wrist. The bandages looping around the skin do a good enough job of hiding them, but you genuinely wish you could just ask Shadowheart to heal them for you because being able to see them does little to help with the constant thoughts of the vampire muddling the clarity of your mind. 

But you’d rather not let your companions know what happened between you and the vampire on the dirtied floors of the Blushing Mermaid. You’d likely die of shame for letting him drink from you, even after your mutual agreement to specifically avoid just that. What’s worse is that you expect the worst from Lae’zel, especially after her explicit advice to do the exact opposite of what you chose to do.

You tighten the bandages again.

“Did those yourself, did you?”Alfira snorts, and you almost have half a mind to glare at her if it weren’t for the crumpled sheets of paper surrounding the legs of her chair. The ink on the discarded pages now blends into mush as they lie in the puddles forming around her—an aftermath of the recent rainy weather. You don’t tell her, though. She seems frustrated enough as it is, and you fear she might snap a string of her lute if this prolongs any longer. “How’d you get hurt anyway?”

“It’s a bug bite.”

“A rather massive bug, apparently.”

The corners of your lips quirk downward, and she finally sets her lute aside, careful to avoid the puddles as she props it against the side of her stool to focus on her notepad instead. Though most of its pages have now been torn out, the remaining few have scribbles of song lyrics that even you can’t decipher with how messily the ink splatters across the page. She, however, seems perfectly fine reading its contents aside from her glaringly obvious distaste for the words themselves. You raise your brow. “Can you really read that?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t insult my penmanship.”

You snicker, eyes continuing to scan the sheets of paper that had been abandoned on Dalyria’s desk at the Blushing Mermaid. It’d taken quite some time to take apart the pages plastered on the wall and to organize the mountain of doctor’s notes lying across the lair, but you’d managed to fish out something useful eventually. The journal was one that seemed especially important, filled to the brim with Dalyria’s so-called ‘research.’ 

But if the past few days have told you anything, it’s that Dalyria is a terrible note-taker.

The pages are filled with shapes. Some are curved, and others just bend and contort into odd figures that you’re sure aren’t supposed to look like letters. Each page studies a different shape on a random part of the page, leaving them scattered and difficult to decipher.

You’re starting to think this is just some odd attempt at art rather than the studies she claims to be performing.

“And? Why are you here if you’re not here to look at those lyrics I gave you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what this journal says,” you sigh, flipping another page you don’t understand. “And if you couldn’t tell, I’m rather busy trying to find the people responsible for murders around the city, so excuse me if I haven’t had the time to glance at your song.”

“I’m plenty busy myself, you know! I just got hired to sing at this fancy party for some celebration. They even said I could dress all nice for it,” she smiles proudly, and you offer her a crooked one of your own. “It’s my first serious gig—so I’m a bit nervous with how large it is…”

“How’d you land something like that before you’ve even played at children’s birthday parties?”

“Well, I’m not doing it alone, obviously,” she reasons, scratching something on her pages again. “I’m going with one of my friends. She’s a wonderful violinist, and she managed to squeeze me into the event, which I’m so grateful for…I suppose I’m just a bit worried.”

You look up from Dalyria’s notebook. “Worried? What for?”

“That my fingers will lock up, and I’ll humiliate myself,” she admits sheepishly, tucking a portion of her hair behind her sharp ear. “Lihala used to call me silly for worrying about things that haven’t happened–but I can’t help it. It’s the before-show jitters. Pesky things. It’s a bit embarrassing, really.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you look to the murky skies overhead, where dark clouds threaten to pour down for at least another few days. A shame, you think. You’ve never seen the Summers of Baldur’s Gate feel so dreary.

It’s fitting, almost, considering the state that the city is in.

The painful sound of quill scratching against paper is all you can hear now as Alfira sighs irritably again, ripping out another sheet of paper.

“It’s not embarrassing,” you finally say.

She blinks up from her notepad. “What is?”

“Being nervous. I’ve done more performances than I can count, and my hands would still get clammy in front of a big crowd,” you laugh to yourself. “But when you see how they watch you as if you’re performing sorcery with your lute, it’s like you were never anxious in the first place. The audience is what makes it bearable.”

“Gods, I hope you’re right,” she smiles fondly as you continue to reminisce in your own memories. “It’s a rather shame we never got to perform together. Not after the last time we played at the Grove–and I don’t even count that occasion with how unstable my voice was…”

“I can watch if you’d like,” you offer. “Your performance, I mean.”

Her eyes gleam with excitement, and she reaches to clasp both your hands, beaming brightly. “Will you? I’m sure if you’re there, it’ll ease my nerves, too!-”

As you shift in your seat to follow your hands, Dalyria’s notebook slips off your lap. The simple splash beneath you tells you all you need to know as your eyes shoot down to where the notebook now lies face down into a puddle, and you don’t even have to lift it to know that its pages are soaked.

But you don’t have to pick it up yourself because Alfira’s carefully holding it in an instant, her face pale as she fans her hand in a fruitless attempt to prevent the damage already done. “Dammit, I’ve done it again! I’m truly sorry…I didn’t mean for that to happen! But I’m sure if we just put it in the sunlight for a few days, it’ll–”

You gently take it from her hands, shaking your head. Perhaps it’s because you were just deep into memories you hold dear to your heart, but there isn’t an ounce of panic in your voice. “It’s fine. I wasn’t getting anywhere with this thing anyway.”

“Still…”

The pages stick together in chunks as you flip the journal towards the pages that are at least half dry. You fear they might tear off at the slightest touch, so all you can do is stare at a page you deem to be soaking up the ink from the pages behind it. Alfira groans into her hands, and before you can spare her a glance to remind her it’s alright, you spot something in the middle of the page.

“Holy shit,” you whisper so quietly she doesn’t catch it.

“I’ll grab us a wind scroll. Or maybe that’s too strong? Surely there’s some spell that can dry off books.”

“You have no idea what you’ve just done for me, Alfira,” you blurt, already halfway to stuffing the journal into your pack. She blinks up at you with weary eyes, but you quickly clamber off the stool with no time to offer an explanation. “Let me know when the performance is. I’ll be here next week as usual.”

“Don’t you want me to dry off the pages?”

“No,” you shake your head, your heart pounding. “I need to show this to the others.”

She stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. Still, as you rush toward the stairs leading to the city streets, she calls after you.

“Don’t forget to look at the lyrics!”

“Runes? As in the ones carved into Astarion’s back?”

“I thought they were random blots of ink, but,” you raise the notebook in your hands, and the soaked pages now show the contents of the following sheets, blending to form a larger image. The placement of the shapes were not random at all, and you internally apologize for calling Dalyria a few less-than-kind words in your mind. “They’re not. They’re parts of the runes that Cazador tried to use for the ritual. There are six sets of runes in here, and each one’s slightly altered.”

“But what purpose does that serve?” Shadowheart cocks a brow, eyeing the page questionably with crossed arms. “Cazador’s dead. There’s no ascension to be done.”

“Unfortunately, just because that haunting man is gone doesn’t mean the threat of an ascension is either.” Intrigued but clearly disturbed, Gale takes the notebook and squints at what it holds. “Cazador himself never needed to be the one to execute the ascension.”

The room goes silent, leaving an uncomfortable tension in the air that keeps you from moving. You’re not sure how many seconds pass before you hear the figure who’s been awfully quiet the past half an hour mutter something under his breath from the comfy armchair beside the fireplace.

Astarion clicks his tongue, seemingly unfazed. “Ah, I see.”

The fists at your side clench tighter. The bandages feel impossibly tight all of a sudden.

“It’s for the ascension, clearly. There’s no other plausible explanation,” his eyes remain glued to the flickering flames, swirling a chalice of wine in his hand. He doesn’t sip from it, knowing that it tastes of nothing but vinegar on his undead tongue, so why he’s poured himself a glass, you don’t understand. You also can’t be bothered to ask. “Perhaps they plan to enact it. Take a piece of all that power for themselves.”

“But they can’t do the ascension,” Shadowheart frowns, turning to you. “You said there’s only six runes in there. They don’t have the last one to enact the ascension because Astarion’s with us. Cazador’s the only one who could have done it because he’s the only one who knows what each of the runes looks like. Without Astarion’s, they can’t—”

“They wanted him,” you whisper the confession, and you swear your voice nearly cracks. “They wanted Astarion. That’s why they wanted to speak with me.”

All three of your companions whip their heads to you, and you stare down at the ground. Shame burns through you, and you can practically feel the disappointment radiating off them as it dawns on you that you lied to them. You lied to your closest companions for the sake of saving yourself the embarrassment that no matter what you do, no matter what you tell yourself, your subconscious forces you to care for the bloody vampire sitting beside the fireplace. Despite the many eyes on you, you can only feel one crimson pair that bore into you like the sun beating down on a hot summer’s day.

Even now, he’s your biggest concern, and you hate yourself for it.

“Then it’s not Astarion they need,” Gale says breathlessly. “They need the marks on his back.”

“And you didn’t tell us this, why?” Shadowheart hisses. “You said they just tried to kill you!”

You blurt. “They did! They said they’d stop killing citizens if I just tossed Astarion over to them, but when I said no, they completely flipped and–”

“You declined that deal?” Lae’zel snarls, and you unwillingly flinch at the venom in her tone. “You swore, istik. You swore you wouldn't be foolish if it came down to you or him.”

The words feel like a knife to your throat.

“Well, obviously, it worked out,” you grumble, ignoring how Lae’zel’s eyes are narrowed dangerously. No doubt, she has questions of her own that she’ll demand answers to later. “If I handed him over, they would’ve had the last key to conducting the ascension.”

“You still lied to us,” Shadowheart steps toward you, but Gale quickly clears his throat.

“I know how deceived we all feel, but must we fight? What matters is the spawns can’t conduct the ascension as of now, correct?” he attempts to calm her down, but her scowl only grows deeper. “As disappointed as we all are, we must admit that keeping Astarion here is the right decision.”

“You’re too hasty, wizard,” Lae’zel snaps. “A vampire’s ascension would mean ridding of all the other spawn wreaking havoc in the city. We mustn’t throw away a chance being offered without considering it.”

Shadowheart is immediately on her feet, her eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t be an idiot–a few thousand spawn is better than a nearly impenetrable being capable of creating even more spawn. That’s asking for just as bad as we are now–maybe even worse.”

They break into a simultaneous debate, one in which two room occupants do not take part. Because even as you try to focus on what the others are saying, all you can feel is the unsettling stare of the spawn in the corner of the room, his hand still swirling the wine. You wonder if his wrist ever gets tired. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of returning his stare, but you watch him from the corner of your eye as his attention shifts to your wrist.

“Are we even sure this is what they’re planning? Do a few drawings prove that they want to go through with this ritual, again, after what it nearly did to them?” Shadowheart’s attention darts to you. “This ritual would kill them. Why in the hells would all of them agree to do it if it only means one would come out alive?”

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out in return. The hurt embedded into her expression is so glaringly apparent that it makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably, and all you can do is look away in shame. “...I don’t know.”

Her face hardens. “Do you? Or are you just lying to us again?”

Cheeks flaring, you shake your head. “I’m not lying, I swear it.”

Her eyes flicker with something you don’t recognize before they flit to your bandaged arm and then back to your eyes. She doesn’t miss how you try to move your arm behind you. A miscalculation on your part since your attempt at hiding it makes your secret that much more obvious. “Then what are those for? You’ve had them on since you returned from the Blushing Mermaid, and you refuse to let me heal you myself. Just what did you get injured from?”

The room is so silent you can hear your own heartbeat.

“I–” you stop, wavering. “There was a—”

Shadowheart clenches her jaw. “Don’t lie. Please.”

But still, no words are willing to leave your throat. 

Your companions await words from you that do not exist. Like a deer in headlights, you stand numbly, unsure what to do. Fortunately, and also unfortunately, before long, Lae’zel has had enough of waiting, and she begins to march toward you in a way that makes you step away.

“Give me your arm,” she demands. “If you cannot say, then show us.”

You can feel all the blood draining from your face as she draws closer. But even Gale cannot hinder her this time because everyone in the room knows what she’s capable of with that blade attached to her hip, and she’s not against wasting a few potions of healing if she has to barrel her way through. You brace yourself for the inevitable, teeth gritting together.

Just as she reaches for your arm, someone else snatches it away.

“I drank from them,” Astarion says as you bump slightly into his chest, eyes wide at his pale fingers wrapped around your wrist. He yanks the edge of the bandage down with his free hand and lifts it for the others to see. The two puncture wounds, where the skin that surrounds it is darker than the rest, make you feel naked under the eyes of others. It’s too vulnerable. Too mortifying.

Your heart hammers pathetically, and whether it’s from the expressions of your companions or the hand wrapped around the sensitive skin of your wrist, you’re not sure. You hope it’s not the latter.

Gale’s jaw drops. “We agreed that this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.” 

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve perished,” the vampire retorts in response, releasing his hold on your arm as it falls back to your side. The place where his hand had been tinges under your skin. “And there weren’t exactly a few boars lying around the damn city for me to feed on.”

You notice he fails to mention there had been more than enough bodies to satiate him, but you keep your mouth shut.

The hurt on Shadowheart’s face is no longer one that throbs your sympathy. Instead, she seems to burn with something you haven’t seen in ages.

Anger.

Her palm flickers with radiant light, and Astarion immediately flinches, hissing as he moves to hide his body behind yours. In your haste, you can’t think of anything to do besides stepping toward her, holding out your hands. Astarion releases a strained laugh from behind you. “Now, Shadowheart, let’s not do anything hilarious, shall we?”

“I’ll kill you,” she growls maliciously, the glow of her palm growing brighter. “Like I should have done the second you came back to ruin everything we’ve done without you.”

You cautiously approach her, focus never leaving her eyes despite the danger festering in her hands. “You shouldn’t, Shadowheart.”

She throws daggers in your direction with just her expression, and you can’t deny how helpless you feel. “Killing him would end all of this. If we buried him somewhere, they’d never find the runes. They’d never be able to follow through with the ascension, and we won’t have to deal with his pompous ass anymore.”

You hate that she’s right. You hate that even though she’s right, you can’t agree with her methods.

“I know he’s—not exactly a friend—but he was once. And I know you considered him one as well,” you insist, inching closer. The hesitance in her motions as you come too close to the radiant light is undeniable. “I don’t want you to bear the guilt of his death.”

Because as much as you’re wrapped up in a world of your own–a world where you fight to hate the man behind you–you know that your companions feel the same way. The sentiments gathered from months of sharing the same camp, months of saving one another from multiple deaths, and months of aiding one another overcome their own pasts don’t just disappear. You know what they shared. Being the most similar amongst your companions, forced under the influence of a power they did not want to be subjected to, you know they considered themselves friends, even if they never voiced it out loud.

You know that deep down, Shadowheart’s hatred for Astarion stems from her own feeling of betrayal when he tried to kill you. When he attempted to harm the only other person who guided her to a path outside of Shar.

“Trust me, I won’t feel guilty,” she finally forces out. “You’re a fool to trust him again.”

“I don’t trust him,” you reassure her, your hands finally reaching hers as they dim and eventually vanish all traces of magic. “But if he’s to die for nearly killing me, I want it to be under my hands. Don’t sully your own for my sake when you’ve just escaped all the bloodshed.”

Shadowheart’s brows soften, but her face turns cold. Thoughts seem to run through her mind like an endless train before she decides that thinking through each one is worth more than Astarion himself is worth. She inhales deeply and nods, allowing you to finally release her hands. She shoots the others one last glance before turning to retreat upstairs.

You’re left in a pitiful silence—one that nobody in the room dares to break.

An entire day is spent with you wallowing in your shame, refusing to get out of bed.

You hope this is just a terrible nightmare, but you know better. If this were a nightmare, you’d already be dead.

You only climb out of your covers when you have to change the bandages on your wrist. It’s a painful process now since you don’t even want to look at the puncture wounds anymore, but it’s better than risking it to get infected. A knock on your door makes you stand from your bed, kicking the bandage rolls under your bed. “It’s open.”

You expect Gale or even Lae’zel, but you’re met with piercing red eyes. You contemplate begging him to leave you alone because looking at him right now only conjures up the guilt that’s been eating away at you for hours now. Instead, you build that wall between the two of you again, your face hardening. “What do you want?”

He’s never come to you willingly before. Not unless you were positively drenched in blood, and he had no choice but to follow his instincts for what he hopes to be a meal other than stale boar blood. Much less approached you in your own room.

Astarion lifts the empty glass bottle in his hand. “A charming welcome, as usual, I see.”

“You just had a full supply yesterday,” you say, brows furrowing. “I checked it myself.”

“Clearly, now I don’t,” he shrugs, and when you shoot him an intense glare, he frowns. “You can’t possibly blame me. I haven’t exerted myself as I did at that dirty tavern since the last time I had that damn parasite swimming around my head. So, unless you decide to offer yourself to me, again…”

You think he’s genuinely lost his mind. “Right now? Seriously? After what just happened yesterday, you want to ask me for blood?”

“Just a suggestion, darling. Otherwise, we always have the other option, as boring as it is.”

Perhaps you should just toss him to Lae’zel and call it a day.

Groaning in exasperation, you march past him, slapping a cloak into his chest. “There’s 15 minutes to sunset.”

He laughs, but it only makes your face turn sour.

The forest isn’t far off from the main square of Rivington. And by the time you reach it, the sun has long gone down, and you watch as Astarion takes off the hood of his cloak, breathing deeply in the moon's bask. And as he glances back at you, you don’t bother trying to walk side by side, remaining on guard and surveying his every move from three steps behind. He comments on it even though you think he doesn’t care for what you do. “I don’t bite, you know.”

“You’re not funny.” He snorts at your deadpan and continues into the deeper parts of the forest.

The entire time, your eyes remained glued to the backs of his heels, palms growing increasingly clammy as you become surrounded by nothing but the soft ambiance of the woods. His steps are as silent as they’ve always been, and it feels like following a ghost into the darkest parts of the forest. It’s becoming hard to see more than a few feet in front of you, and if your training with Lae’zel has taught you anything, you know that you don’t want to be at a disadvantage—especially when the other party is a bloody vampire.

You halt in your tracks. He does, too, turning to shoot you a questioning look. “What is it?”

“It’s too hard to see. We need to turn back.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little bit of darkness.”

You scrunch your nose at this, and he merely grins. Before you can say anything, he’s back to pacing across the dirt without a care in the world—almost too fast for your liking. “Will you at least slow down?”

“Shall I hold your hand?”

“I’d rather cut it off.”

“A pity.”

You curse his long legs as the forest becomes darker and darker, even as each time you think it can’t possibly get worse than this. You swear his steps become quicker, and a part of you wonders if this is where he attempts to run away and whether you should cast a sleep spell before he succeeds. But the most rational part of you reminds yourself that he’s had plenty of chances to escape. Hells, he could do it even now, considering how much more easily his eyes adjust to the darkness than you.

“Astarion, I swear to the Gods above, if you don’t stop walking so quickly…”

This time, you don’t get an answer.

Suspicions rising, you break into a jog and then into a gradual sprint. Every time you think you finally caught up to him, a branch whips into your face, and you barely manage to swat it away before it manages to cut your skin. You call his name a few times to no avail, and you genuinely begin to ponder if you should’ve brought your scroll for daylight.

Finally, you stumble through a tall berry bush into what you assume to be another branch.

And rather than more darkness, you’re met with a clearing. It’s only a few long strides in width and a couple more in length, but here, it doesn’t seem like nighttime at all. The moon peers down at you in all its glory, and you think this might’ve been Selune’s pocket of the forest if she were here. You blink wide when a speck of light—a firefly—flies barely past your face. And suddenly, you’re surrounded by light rising from the green grass beneath you in fragile wings. 

The tightness in your chest dissipates, if only for a moment.

Only once you’ve taken in the vast difference of your surroundings just a few moments prior do you see Astarion pulling off the clasp of his cloak. He tosses it to you, and it lands on your face before you yank it away with a scowl. “You could have just handed it to me–”

“Stay here,” he says. “I’ll return when I’ve finished hunting.”

You gawk at him. “I’m not going to let you just leave.”

“I’ve proven myself plenty,” he scoffs. “If I remember correctly, you would’ve likely perished were I not there at that tavern a few days ago. And I must remind you that I do have quite the memory. If I planned on betraying you, I would’ve done it then—at a more fashionable time.”

You don’t have much of a rebuttal to that.

While you could bring up the dozens of other times he’s made questionable decisions pertaining to his loyalty, the soothing bath under the moon’s gaze seems to calm you down. So, instead of fighting the internal urge to continue your petty quips, you drop the cloak beneath you. He cocks a brow, surely expecting more of a protest, but you just swallow your pride, plopping down on the grass with a huff. “If you don’t return in 30 minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“40 minutes,” he tries. “30 minutes isn’t nearly enough time for anything fun.”

You scowl. “20 minutes.”

Astarion smiles wickedly just enough for his fangs to peek beneath his top lip. “Very well. I’ll expect you no later than that.”

And like a predator fading into his natural environment, he vanishes into the darkness.

Time passes slowly when all you can do is pick at pieces of grass. As beautiful as the clearing is, it’s a bit too soothing—enough to make you doze off as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Though you attempt to keep your eyes open, reminding yourself you have a responsibility to uphold, you haven’t had this sense of relaxation in ages. Especially now, in your home with an atmosphere thicker than the butter you use on your bread. It’s almost like a spell as you feel your heavy eyelids droop helplessly.

You pray you don’t dream tonight. Not when you know all you’ll think of is the betrayal you inflicted on your companions.

A rustle of leaves snaps you back awake.

And when you look up, you see two blood-red eyes staring down at you from the branches of the tree opposite of yours.

They look exactly like the spawn in the alleyway, practically a month ago now. The same ones that haunt your nightmares and the same ones that morph into your ex-lover in the ones you despise the most. And while you can’t see their face, you don’t need much more than that to break into action.

Immediately, you’re snatching the cloak and sprinting back into the forest's darkness. You don’t care about the branches flinging themselves at you anymore because you can barely breathe even without worrying about them. Twigs and thin branches flail across your cheeks as you practically barrel through the woods, your legs feeling like they could give up if you were ever to stop running. With only the cloak in one hand and a dagger in the other, you don’t even attempt to fight whoever this person is upfront–you learned your lesson well the last time you tried. So, instead, your boots crunch against whatever plants are being crushed beneath you as you frantically run from the creature chasing you.

The worst part is you can still hear leaves rustling behind you.

Your lungs hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurts, and yet you cannot stop. You hope the forest itself swallows you whole at this point, especially as you hear the movements getting closer and closer.

Tripping over a particularly large root, you fall through a bush, bracing for impact as you curse everyone you can think of for your luck. But rather than your shoulder crashing into a pile of dirt and twigs, you plant face-first into what feels like…cloth?

“Eager little thing, aren’t you? If you wanted to touch me, you could have just asked,” Astarion teases and you instantly tear yourself away, pushing your palms against his chest with wide eyes. And as much as you hate to admit it, a flood of relief hits you. And as much as it shouldn’t, meeting his gaze makes you able to breathe again.

Gods, what is wrong with you?

“There’s something chasing me,” you say hurriedly, pointing in the direction behind you. “I think it’s another spawn, I saw his eyes–”

His face stills when you practically jump at the bushes moving in ways the wind cannot will it to. Your arm flies to push him in front of you in case something were to leap out, and while you’re sure he’d complain dramatically about this gesture on any other occasion, he’s too busy worrying about what lies behind the bush. His hand shoots to what you assume to be that blasted comb he takes everywhere while you grip your knife, and you hear both your breaths hitch when something lunges out of the shrub.

It’s a small, puny squirrel.

Astarion doesn’t even try to stifle the laugh that escapes him as he throws his head back.

“I swear there was something following me!” you hiss, slapping his arm while the squirrel scurries away back to wherever it came from. He doesn’t stop, having little care about how your face flushes with embarrassment, and instead seems to revel in it. The bastard is enjoying this.

You wish you could throw the damn squirrel at his head.

“Oh, yes, I do believe there was,” he’s barely fazed while you continue glaring daggers at him. “I’m impressed you survived an encounter with such a terrifying foe, my dear.”

“It was definitely following me...” your voice trails off, and the bloodlust that had overwhelmed your lungs is fading away, leaving nothing but the sound of Astarion and his annoyingly loud laughter. 

He stops when there’s a shrill scream from across the forest. One that wails in what is unmistakenly of excruciating pain.

The two of you slowly turn to one another, and a knowing gleam flashes behind his eyes.

“Darling, the smart decision here would be to leave–”

But you’re already rushing toward whoever this victim is, forcing him to groan loudly and trail after you, snatching up your cloak from the ground in the process. You feel him close behind as you practically fly through the forest, with little care of how exhausted you were just moments before as the screams of pain seem to fuel your determination to lend aid. 

Astarion, although displeased, only grumbles as he continues to follow your lead. “Is it necessary to be heroic now of all times? In a dark forest where there’s sure to be animals twice our size?”

You ignore him.

A leaf slaps into your face as you finally reach what’s now been reduced to soft sobs. And you’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t someone you knew.

“Berry?” you blink at the small girl, who you’re sure can barely even see you with how teary her eyes are. She watches you wearily before she gasps in recognition, and it’s then that you realize that her arm is bleeding.

“Tav!”

“You’re hurt,” you’re kneeling beside her in an instant, assessing her wounds as you reach to dig around your pockets in hopes of any medical supplies you might’ve left in there. “Did something attack you?”

“Yes,” she winces as you lift her arm to inspect it closer. “I’m not sure what it was, but it came out of nowhere, and they—-they tried to bite me.”

A lump forms in your throat. As twisted as it is, you're relieved you weren't actually imagining what you saw earlier. “Did you see if they had fangs? Did they look like a regular person?”

“I think so,” she replies in a hushed voice, wiping her tears. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do when it–”

A hand grabs her by the back of her cloak, yanking her in the air with her legs dangling helplessly as Astarion holds her just high enough to render attempts to kick at him useless. “I’d normally entertain tasteless tricks like this, but I’m in a less than forgiving mood, I’m afraid. You’ve cut into the time I have to fill my own stomach.”

You gasp, jumping to your feet. “Astarion, what the actual hells are you doing?”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later, darling,” he sneers at the girl, hissing at him aimlessly. “Show them, you little imp.”

Having no idea what’s going on, you decide the best thing to do is de-escalate whatever misunderstanding he’s had about the poor girl tied to his hand. “You’ll hurt her. Just let her go and explain what’s going on.”

“Show them,” he pronounces each word harshly, glaring at Berry. 

And finally, she tries to bite at his hand. This prompts her to unhinge her jaw just enough for you to see the glint of sharp teeth. Ones that do not certainly belong to an innocent orphan.

Were you always this unlucky, or was the past month just a living hell for you?

“See what I mean? You can offer your thanks to me later, darling,” Astarion smiles proudly, and if you knew him any less than you did, you’d think he’s psychotic for smiling like that in this situation. But then, again, maybe he is. “How you seem to attract so many of us is beyond me, but I believe we should refrain from keeping this one alive.”

Your jaw drops. As much as you feel appalled that the innocent girl you’ve been soothing over the death of her adoptive father for the past few weeks turned out to be one of the very creatures that nearly took your life (on multiple occasions), you can’t fathom the idea of just ridding of her. She’s still a kid—at least, to the naked eye. “Are you insane? No, we’re not killing her!”

“Gods, please don’t tell me you’ll try and make this brat see sense. She’s practically feral! Look at her!” he grits through his teeth, waving his free hand to the girl in question, who’s too busy trying to snap her teeth at him. “This thing doesn’t deserve your sympathy right now.”

Berry manages to catch the tip of his finger in her teeth, and Astarion lets out a string of curses as he drops her to the dirt. It doesn’t even take another second for her to lunge toward you, fangs bared and claws ready to sink into your flesh. You barely manage to swerve out of the way, her sharp nail grazing past your cheek.

“Berry, just listen to me! I don’t want to hurt you!” you practically yell, but she only stumbles on the ground a moment before rushing at you again. You reach for your dagger, fearing you may have to use it on a child until she’s snatched into the air again.

This time, Astarion hangs her by the cloak onto a tree branch, where she screams and grasps at the air, practically throwing a tantrum.

You gawk in utter disbelief; too many things are happening simultaneously.

And Astarion doesn’t help as he slips out the damn comb again, grinning from ear to ear. You notice that this time, he seems to have taken the time to sharpen the tips of the teeth, which nearly look akin to a row of needles. 

He holds the comb in Berry’s direction. “Well? Shall I do the honors?”

As you watch him threaten a child who also happens to be a vampire, you ponder that maybe you should have just handed him over to Dalyria when you had the chance.

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[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.2 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game....Uhhh...I think that is all.

You sat by the river bank, looking at the fishes as everyone was once again getting ready to go back on the road. Hearing footsteps you look seeing Astarion crotch near you. “Here, drink up before anyone sees us.” He hands you a small goblet with blood.  You grab onto the silver cup and drink it all in one gulp. Astarion looks around making sure no one was watching as he wipes your mouth with his sleeve “There now we are both less cranky.” He smirks, washing the cup right away. “I feel much better now” You look at him savoring the taste of the bitter blood. “Now I promise I won’t run off!” You grin showing your sharp fangs. “Easy on the smile now, I can see your little pathetic fangs.” He boops your nose before walking back to his tent. Walking around the camp you collected some flowers near the riverbank before looking around seeing everyone has left besides Karlach. “Hey! Where did everyone else go?” You pouted walking to her. The tall woman smiles looking down at you, “It’s just the both of us, little soldier. We think it’s best if one of us stays at the camp with you. It’s dangerous out there.” She chuckles seeing you cross your arms. “But we can take this opportunity to get to know each other.” She sits down on the ground. “Hmmm…”You look at her, was she part of the game as well? You did promise Astarion you would win this game for them. “Okay!” Sitting down next to her, you look up at her “Tell me about you! I wanna know why you have a broken horn” You pointed. “That will be a tough one…let me see if I can give you the kid friendly version.” 

“Why in the hell did you accept this charity work when our goal is to get this thing out of our heads?!” Astarion frowns after Tav was done talking to Zevlor. “Hey, Halsin can be our ticket to healing us after seeing what Nettie was going to make us do. We need to rescue him.” Tav looks at Astarion, “You are welcome to switch places with Karlach and look after (Y/N)” They crossed their arms. Astarion stops whining, “ On second thought I rather do this than babysit a child.” He mutters. “You know, you two seem to know each other.” Gale began to poke. Astarion rolls his eyes “Stay out of my business will you wizard? The child must have seen me somewhere in Baldur’s Gate and felt much safer with a familiar face. “ The elf shrugs and walks around the grove seeing what he can take. Shadowheart walks around as well. “It’s going to be harder to travel with a child, the dangers we will face.” She comments “We can’t leave them either since they also have the tadpole. Poor child” She hissed something glows on her hand hurting her. Astarion ignores her, thinking back how your life is. It’s already over since Cazador made you a spawn. “Yeah…poor kid” He mutters and walks further into the Grove. 

You lay on the ground in Astarions tent, after hearing Karlachs story, you look at the sky admiring it. You wonder why didn’t papa let you step outside the big palace. He would always warn you to stay away from the windows and never step foot out of the palace. The sky was beautiful, you want to keep admiring it after you go back home. Maybe if you convince him, he’ll let you at least see it outside of the window. “Papa…Mama…” You whisper thinking back to them. Rubbing your eyes, you were met with Astarion looking down at you. “Aww did you miss me little creature?” He smirks laying down next to you. “I miss papa” Sitting up you play with his hair. “Of course papa…hmm (Y/N) what did you mean about mad like papa?” He leans on his side looking at you. You look down “I remember papa getting mad at mama…” You whisper the memory fresh in your mind. “Mama…and do you know what Cazador was mad at?” He once again began to play with your hair, a habit he’s been getting. “I couldn’t hear…they were talking very lowly but I saw papa grab mama’s neck and then he took a bite on it. I wanted to check on mama but papa said she was going to sleep and took me home with him in the big castle.” You retold the story. Astarion only watches you retold it, he hums thinking. Must have killed her in front of her and took in the child before turning them into a spawn. “ I see, I bet you miss your mother.” He looked at the sky as it was setting down. “I do but papa says she was a terrible mother…I don’t know why but I don’t want papa to get mad at me?” You play with the dirt only for Astarion to stop you. “Careful you’ll get dirty.” He sighs before looking at you. “How are you? Blood wise little spawn.” He dugs into his bag to pull out another small vial of blood. “Gimmie!” You try to reach for it only for him to pull back. “Drink a little, this should last you till the morning.” He gently tips the vial on your mouth giving half. 

The next day, Astarion sighs sitting on the ground watching you chase a butterfly as he was replaced, Karlach taking his spot. You giggle chasing the small insect. “Astarion! When will I be able to see papa?” You walk over to the pale elf. “I don’t know.” He groans “This the 5th time you’ve asked me, don’t ask me again, got it?” He fixes your shirt before seeing a hole. “Where did you get this from?” He tuts. You look down shrugging. “Children I swear.” He mutters “ I’ll patch it up tonight.” He looks at his small kit. You grinned, “Thank you!” You wrapped your little arms around his neck. He tense up, before slowly rubbing your back, “Yeah yeah, now go back to chasing this pointless butterfly.” He gently shoves you away as you run off to chase the poor butterfly. How can a little spawn like yourself make him feel different?

   Night came rolling, You were asleep on your side of the tent. Astarion looks around and sees everyone asleep. He slowly got up and walked over to the Tav leaning in before seeing them awake. “Shit…” He mutters and backs up. (The rest is history for us Astarion Fans)

You woke up to the sound of chatter. Sitting up, you noticed everyone around Astarion. Getting up, your little legs walk over clinging on to his pant leg. “ And is (Y/N) a vampire Spawn as well?” Tav looks down at you. Astarion sighs “Yes, Cazador, my old master also made them into a spawn.” He looks down at you. Hearing the name Cazador, you grin “He’s my papa!” You bounce happily. “But she’s so young” Gale looks down at you, “Will she be needing blood as well? Right away, We don’t bite out of nowhere okay?”

Astarion frowns seeing Gale already showing you manners on being a spawn. “Yeah yeah, we bite before asking, don’t we (Y/N)?” He pulls you closer to him and away from Gale. You only nodded still clinging on to his pants. “ Has she taken blood yet?” Karlach looks over to you smiling “For a little spawn they are rather adorable.” She chuckles as you get distracted chasing once again a butterfly. “Why don’t they have red eyes? Where did Cazador bite them?” Astarion goes to speak but stops as they were right. “I…I don’t know…” He looks at you before walking over  “ Come here.” He gently stops you and looks at your (E/C) eyes before looking down at your neck seeing nothing. “(Y/N) I need you to tell me the truth, where did he bite?” He looks at you sternly. You only tilt your head “Bite…he only bit mama…” Upon hearing you, his eyes widened and stood up, backing a bit. “What is it?” Tav walks over. “They are a Daywalker. Dhampire’s….You…they…Cazador…” He whispers trying to make this all sense. “When has Cazador been…involved with a human…” He whispers looking at you. “Especially to have you…” He looks down at you as you stare back at him, only one thing crossing across his mind. 

What did he get himself into

~~~~~~~~~~

Important Author's Note: Thank you so much, it seems all of you are loving this, please do be patient. This story will start off slow but all the action and more secrets will be out in the upcoming chapters. I also have another idea, what about a fic where Astarion was married to the reader before he was killed and now that 200 years have passed he sees her again. Would you guys like that? I have another Astarion Fic as well in my blog called Hunted Past so please do check that out. Thank you everyone! Stay safe and stay hydrated!

-Axie

[soulessjourney]

T'ill I Go Blind

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 2.2k

Summary: When Gortash reveals details about your past relationship, Astarion refuses to entertain any of it.

Warnings: OOC Astarion, angst, mentions of truama, mentions of death, jelous Astarion, Gortash, fluff, Humor, Astarion of course making a few out of pocket comments, Scared Astarion

A/N: It's basically cannon at this point that Gortash and the Durge are exes or had something going on, so enjoy my depiction of just how their first meeting after so long would be like.

Who would have thought that you would find yourself standing in Baldur’s Gate, face-to-face with Gortash, who gazes at you with surprising tenderness? "Well, isn't it my favorite assassin? It has been too long since we indulged in each other's presence," he remarks. You raise a quizzical brow as your arms fold over your chest, leaning against the protective metal.

"Ah, yes. How could I forget? You lack the memories of what we once shared. A shame, truly. Your father never was one for the ideals of... affection." You resist the urge to let your jaw drop at his words, while Wyll stifles a laugh beside you.

"I'm sorry, but you're telling me you and Tav had some sort of connection?" he asks, looking between both of you. Beside you, Karlach goes stiff, and you reach out through your connected minds, assuring her that you have no clue about the nonsense the man is spouting. Upon your words, she visibly relaxes, folding her arms and shifting to stand a step in front of you, ready to protect you from the person she once trusted if need be.

"We did, in fact, have a connection, and that connection was the reason why your friend now has no memory of who she is," Gortash states, a frown appearing on his lips. "Her father felt threatened by the idea that his perfect assassin was falling for someone, so why not punish those who fell into forbidden love." From beside you, a sudden gag sounds, and Astarion clears his throat.

"I do apologize, but that had to be the most sickening thing I've ever heard, and I don't mean the fact that her father stripped away her memories." It's hard to suppress a laugh at Astarion's words, especially since you can feel the jealousy radiating off of him. Astarion is what you'd call a cat; he thrives when affection is given on his terms, but he is quite territorial with things that belong to him. In this case, you are that thing—mind, body, and soul. You are his human, and he would rather tear the world to shreds than give you up.

Reaching back, your fingers gently brush against him, and he seizes the opportunity to interlace his fingers with yours. A sense of safety and confidence washes over you as his hand firmly holds yours. Gortash, observant of the interaction, advances toward both of you, prompting a tenseness in your body.

"I see you've found a replacement, Little Flower," he remarks. The use of that nickname freezes you, causing your body to stiffen as memories flood your mind. Flashbacks of your younger self and Gortash flow through your consciousness. Despite the rugged and worn-down appearance, Gortash possessed qualities that rendered him remarkably handsome. In the recollection, you both stood in the middle of a flower field, having sneaked off after some convincing. He delicately placed a flower in your hair, affectionately uttering the same nickname.

Gortash notices the recognition in your eyes, prompting him to smile at Astarion. "Seems she remembers that exchange very well. The kiss we shared sealed our promise to one another. Yes, you two are quite...adorable, but let her stay where she belongs. It won't be long until your little romance disappears when her memories return."

Astarion vibrates with anger, and all you can do is squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. Gortash attempts to provoke him in a way he knows best, wanting to witness the dissolution of the bond you share. However, Astarion surprises everyone. Instead of reacting impulsively, he closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and regulates the tightness of his grip around your hand. He's wrestling with the urge to draw his knife and thrust it into Gortash's chest.

Your chest swells with pride at how far Astarion has come from the first encounter when he held a dagger to your throat. "I'll never let her go, not until she tells me to. And when she does, I'll do everything in my power to protect her from a distance because she doesn't deserve to revert to the life she once lived. Not when she's worked so hard to build herself a new life. Not when she's almost killed herself fighting the demons that claw at her, begging to escape."

A snort escapes Gortash as he listens to Astarion's words. "To think someone as powerful as you settled for that," he spits, redirecting his gaze toward you. "Have your fun, Little Flower, but as much as I would love to bring up the past and the memories we share, I have other matters to discuss with you," Gortash states, pacing around the room. "Your sister is stirring up trouble and making things difficult. Her newfound thirst for power after you left is creating tension in my city." You know precisely who he is referring to. In your few encounters with Orin, she made it clear that you both shared the same father.

"What Orin does is none of my concern. If she's hell-bent on trying to take something I don't even want, then let her. I don't know what kind of life I lived before this, but I don't want any part of it. I was given a second chance to finally live, and I won't be ruining that over some family drama," you shrug. You notice Karlach adopting a look of approval at your words. Seeing Gortash again is tough for her, especially now that you know you apparently had some kind of relationship before waking up on the ship.

Gortash sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nods. "Yes, yes, I quite understand what you are saying. You're breaking free from those torturous chains, but your family matters affect the lives of those in Baldur's Gate. I don't care if you are sweeping your matters under the rug, but I want you to kill her. Take out Orin and bring me her stone, and when you do, I'll assist you in defeating the Elder Brain." Something about his words is taunting, making you question the truth of his alliance with you. Almost as if sensing your doubt, he leans against the table behind him.

"I do not wish to fool you; I don't stand for the loss of innocent lives. Orin is out of control, and the brain will wreak havoc if given the chance. If we can control the brain, we can destroy it."

Your mind races as you consider the situation. Releasing a defeated sigh, you clench your jaw, allowing your face to fall into a blank stare. "Fine, I'll kill her." The sound of your group protesting fills the room, echoing off the walls. Gortash only smiles at your words, letting his eyes lock onto yours as your friends attempt to talk some sense into you. After a few minutes, Gortash dismisses you and leaves the room.

Your companions follow behind you, attempting to get your attention before Karlach finally speaks up. "Tav, stop walking away. You know what he did to me and the hell I've lived through. Accepting his offer is a betrayal to me, so you better explain. If you don't, then I have no choice but not to trust you or to stay in the group." Her words hit you hard. She was like your sister, a reason for you to live.

"I'm playing him at his own game. We saw the power these stones had over the brain when we fought Thorm, meaning he had plans for them when he got them all to himself. Trust me, Karlach, I don't trust him either, but we need to take advantage of this. He could be the key to leading us right to the brain so we can destroy it, so I can save all of us," you whisper, looking up at your friend.

Karlach meets your eyes, searching them as if trying to detect any lies in your words. So, you open your mind to her, letting her read your intention with Gortash. Silence fills the area around your group as they wait for Karlach's response. "I trust you," she finally says, sending you a bright smile. You let out a breath of relief at her words as Astarion walks up beside you. You could feel how tense he felt, and you immediately knew something was wrong.

Things between the group had gotten tense after you entered Baldur's Gate. You felt the urge calling to you more than ever before; Astarion was only steps away from having to see Cazador again, and Karlach finally had to come face to face with the person she trusted her life with and who stabbed her in the back. Sending him a look, he nods slightly before looking away. It was a silent communication that you two would be talking when you got back to camp, and you could only hope this wouldn't end in a fight between you two.

---

Upon your arrival, you couldn't help but notice how Astarion immediately headed toward a shaded area. Jaheira spoke quietly to you about matters that needed attention in the city, but your gaze remained fixed on your lover. Jaheira fell silent before laughing quietly, drawing your attention back to her. "You two are quite fond of one another. Go to him; you've been worried about him since the walk back," she said, patting your arm soothingly. Nodding in gratitude, you walked towards Astarion.

He sat on the ground, gazing up at the sky, with rays of sunshine warming his face through the leaves. Stopping behind him, you were unsure of how to initiate the conversation between the two of you. "Star," you said, your voice carried by the slight breeze swirling around you. You sensed him tense, knowing that the forthcoming discussion would likely be tense as well.

With his back to you, he leaned his arms on his knees, shifting his gaze ahead. "So, you were the one involved with the absolute and why we're like this," he stated. Your heart dropped as you looked down. Indeed, you were. Your memories flooded back when you entered Wyrm’s Crossing, remembering who you were, who your father was, and what he wanted you to carry out.

"As angry as I want to be with you, I can't. I know what it's like to feel trapped under a command without being able to escape. I mean, look at what Cazador made me do. I want to be angry, but I just can't," he continued, and your shoulders dropped as you listened to his words. "But that's not why I'm questioning things. Not us; I could never question us. What I'm questioning is what will happen when you fully regain your memory. You and Gortash obviously have something, or rather had something. He talked to you like he was seeing his lover all over again. He looked at you like he was undressing you, ready to show our group of lovely friends that you still belong to him."

There it was—the feeling of your heart shattering in your chest as you listened to his words. He was terrified of losing you, and you had no idea how to reassure him that you're his.

Moving to stand in front of him, you drop to your knees and gently grasp his face in your hands. Opening and closing your mouth, no words escape you. Lost in his eyes—those crimson-red orbs that appear scared and broken—a part of you feels angry, angry at yourself and angry at Gortash for dredging up a past you have no memory of, a past you never want to revisit.

“I meant it when I told you that you mean a lot to me, Star,” you finally say, brushing your thumbs against his cheek. “You’re my entire world. You stayed by my side when the urge wracked my body, when I attempted to take your life that night. You didn’t judge me when it got so bad I caved and harmed an innocent person. You held me and told me that I could beat those urges. You saved me, Astarion, and I will not be leaving you.” His tears begin to pool under the pad of your thumb as you speak.

“Losing my memory was my second chance at life, and then I met you. You gave me something worth living for. Hells, all of our friends did, and I refuse to go back to that life I once lived. I don’t want to be a killer, and I don’t want to be his daughter. I want to be my own person. I want to be able to make my own decisions and control my own body and mind. So, my little Star, I won’t be going anywhere because my home is right here by your side.”

You can tell your words have moved him in some way as he is now fully sobbing. Pulling him to you, you let his head fall onto your chest as you allow him to fall apart in your arms. The fear that plagued him during your meeting with Gortash finally leaves him as he deflates in your embrace. Soon, his sobs quieten, and you both lie under the tree, his arms wrapped tightly around you, almost as if he fears you will disappear if he lets go. In that moment, a peaceful and intimate moment, three words are finally shared between you two. In that moment, you vow to destroy Cazador and show him what true power is. In that moment, the urge claws at your insides, begging to be unleashed, and soon enough, you will let it take over your very being.

[beautifulbows924]

Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

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