#baldurs gate is melting my brain

[phaedrinthefaire]

I saw a post recently about what could’ve happened to Arabella post-game, but what I need to know is what happened to Yenna.

tldr Larian tell me what happened to my girl wait nvm ik what’s canon to me

Did she stay safe in the Elfsong during the Netherbrain’s attack? How did she feel when all of her heroes left the inn one last time? Whose care did they leave her in?

And then once the dust settles and the fractured remains of the party come back to celebrate, what then?

Maybe after weeks of her helping in the kitchen, the Elfsong’s chef finally begrudgingly admits he’s impressed and takes her on as an apprentice, and she becomes Baldur’s Gate’s finest. She grows up as the gate grows back.

Maybe Rion meets her in the midst of celebration and sees a companion for Fig in her, and asks if she wants a quieter place to sleep. Elerrathin’s Home finds a new balance as she settles in. Slowly, she has a family again. A home.

The companions might have something in mind for her. In awe of Tav’s magic, she could admit she wants to learn, and Gale enrolls her in the finest wizarding classes in Waterdeep. Shadowheart decides a little extra help on the farm wouldn’t hurt. (Dad)Astarion, longing for rest, suggests quietly that she can come with him, just for a while. If she wants! That on the road they might find a little peace, if not a little adventure too. (In my hc he’d only be brave enough to suggest it if he’s with Tav but I digress.)

Maybe her path only crosses with the companions again once she’s a little older. Minsc meets her in the city and recruits her good heart in his quest to change the Guild. Wyll and Karlach or Lae’zel return to the gate and find she’s become a young adventurer, a Baldurian through and through.

My favorite of her potential fates ironically is what’s most likely to be canon—Halsin sees her after their celebrations. She’s so tired. Their fellowship is breaking, and so is her something of a family. He knows the exhaustion hovering over fear in her eyes all too well. He wants to see light in them again.

So he takes her with him. Back in nature, she learns how to be a child again.

Brb going to go cry over Yenna. I love that little girl.

(I know we’re not getting a BG4 from Larian at least, but imagine a little sequel where you play as Yenna a few years later. Or any of the kids—Mol, Arabella, Fig. That would be so special.)

[phaedrinthefaire]

this is so pure

a little self-indulgent comic :>

[lepusrufus]

I did say there's actual plot to this AU beside shadowzel bickering didn't I

[strigital]

Chase your dreams, and remember me, sweet bravery

'Cause after all those wings will take you, up so high

[goblins-trashbin]

Trying to draw tragic vampire man. I’m not sure it’s working. He slaying but not my hands :(

[astarions-darling]

The Devil's Game Raphael x FemTav Chapter One

Regency AU tags/warnings: no warnings yet. everyone is human. full of cliches :) words: 2323 read on ao3 via source

Miss Tav Larian fears she is running out of options. She cannot let her horrible Auntie Ethel force her to marry the Emperor—her distant cousin who has inherited Tav’s father’s title and estate. But there is no escape…her aunt controls all her inheritance until she either marries or turns five-and-twenty. She cannot wait that long… she has no time and nobody else will marry Tav—Auntie has seen to that.

She has no choice. A desperate plan has Tav sneaking into the House of Hope, the most notorious gaming hell in all of Faerûn, to take a chance at playing cards and winning enough money to escape her Aunt’s clutches.

But can she win the Devil’s game?

It’s Mills and Boon time, lads.

This story, while silly, contains spoilers for the game - mostly the Emperor and who he is.

Everyone is human in this story! But if you want to picture the Emperor as a mind flayer amongst a bunch of humans, go for it. Raphael and Haarlep are half brothers in this story so their relationship is much different to in game. It works better for me plot-wise.

This is also vaguely regency as it’s not historically correct by any means! It’s a world of its own, I suppose. Also I had to give Tav a surname and well…Larian seemed appropriate haha It sounds fancy!

Tav slinked across the wet cobblestones, trying to keep her dress from dragging across the ground—the edges were already wet. A barouche came around the corner at speed and nearly splattered her with mud but she quickly plastered herself against the stone wall of a nearby building. She held herself there a moment, breathing fast as she watched the carriage disappear down the street. Carefully she grabbed the skirts of her dress and continued down the dark street.

The thought of having to explain to Auntie Ethel how she’d ruined her dress was not something she wished to contemplate—she’d probably be locked in her room for a week as punishment if the old hag knew she’d damaged her clothes. Tav didn’t dare entertain the idea of what her aunt would do knowing how Tav had come to get her clothes in such a state. The young woman paused and shuddered at the mere thought. But Auntie Ethel would not discover this insubordination, Tav told herself, as she tried to keep hidden in the darkness of a nearby mass of shrubbery. She glanced down the street and took in the looming building that lay at the end of it.

The monstrous mansion that glittered impressively amidst the lit lanterns of the street was her destination. Even from this distance, Tav could see that the large windows in the building had most of the drapes drawn, but within the ones that were open, they flickered with candlelight and it was possible to catch a moment of movement as silhouettes passed by dreamily. It looked so inviting, so completely enchanting in the moonlight. But while Tav may not have grown up in the city proper, she knew enough that the look of this grand house was entirely deceiving.

Everyone knew about the gambling hell that was the House of Hope, not that anyone would admit to such profane knowledge. And certainly, nobody would let slip they had been there. It was the sort of place people whispered about in dark alcoves or behind their fans if they dared to mention it at all. Usually only the very wealthy or the peerage were allowed in, it was notorious for its selective entry and the things that went on inside...Tav was sure half of the rumours she’d heard about the wretched place had to be false. That had to be one of the only perks to living with Lady Ethel Pearl—that woman seemed to know everything and collected secrets like a squirrel hoarding nuts.

The building itself managed to sit along the bank between the lower and upper city of Baldur’s Gate; easy for those of little standing to be swallowed by and ostentatious enough for the worst kind of the upper class to dare set foot in. Tav knew that If you saw someone you knew in the House of Hope, you did not acknowledge it. You were there to play cards or engage in a game lanceboard, perhaps have a drink. That was all.

Tav watched another carriage trot by, this one at a more measurable pace, the hooves clattering happily against the cobbled street as she steadied her breathing. Her blood thrummed with nervous anticipation at the sight of the gambling hell. You had to be welcomed into the House and her plan to sneak in would surely not be met with any enthusiasm should she be caught. It was no place for a lady—though Tav had heard rumours about Lady Mizora frequenting it. Not that Lady Mizora had a care of being snubbed and was certainly wealthy enough to afford to not give a fig about the opinion of the ton. While Tav may not have been a lady, she had been the daughter of an Earl, before her father had passed. Her family name did mean something and it would damage her to be found in such an establishment. Her ruined reputation would be nothing more than leverage for Auntie Ethel.

Tav sucked in a deep breath through her nose and her eyes glazed over a moment at the thought of her father and the wretched woman he’d entrusted to care for his only child. It felt like she’d been trapped with Auntie Ethel forever. The woman wasn’t even her real aunt, she was her father’s cousin. Tav cursed the day that hag had appeared on their doorstep in the guise of helping her father through his long illness.

Poor Papa.

The street she’d been slinking down turned into a small alley, the end of which her destination glittered. She walked down it carefully, the uneven cobblestones wet beneath her feet. The small amount of gold she had secreted away felt heavy in her reticule as she navigated her way towards the House of Hope. It was not a lot of money, but it would be enough to play a few games of cards inside the house. So many years of playing with Auntie had taught Tav a lot about cards, especially because the old hag had a tendency to cheat. She felt she had a good chance at winning…it was her only chance.

Tav had heard that the Devil enjoyed having many of the high society deep in his pockets and the potential to win enough gold to leave Ethel behind was possible. The proprietor of the hell did not care so much who you were, as long as you had gold…or something of worth to offer if he had already emptied your coffers. He must have a name, Tav supposed as she walked down the alley, but she had only heard him referred to as the Devil.

“Eh, lass, whatcha doing ‘ere all by yourselves?”

The slurred voice startled Tav from her thoughts and she found herself in front of a short, elderly gentleman with a face like a walrus who had appeared out of the darkness. He belched loudly and Tav took a step back as he stumbled, an empty bottle held loosely in his hands before it clattered to the ground and rolled away.

“Young ladies shouldn’t be about all by ‘emselves.”

The man belched again and Tav tried to sidestep him but he grabbed at her cloak, his body swaying with the motion.

“Unhand me,” Tav demanded in the most direct voice she could muster. The man didn’t seem to be much of a threat. He had a melancholic air about him that had her add with a much gentler tone, “Please, sir, I must be going.”

The man peered up at her, his blue eyes bloodshot as if he’d been crying.

“Don’t go there, miss,” he said in a whisper, his eyes darting toward the House of Hope in the distance. “The Devil don’t take nothing.” He tugged on her cloak again and Tav feared the fabric would rip. “He don’t take nothing you ain’t giving. And he’ll make you gives everything you got.”

She managed to pry his grip off of her cloak and quickly hurried away, trying to ignore the prickling feeling at the back of her neck. She made it out of the alley, the cool evening air clinging to her fingers as a low mist settled itself in for the long night. The streets were bustling in this part of the city, though it always felt like Baldur’s Gate was never asleep no matter the time of day. In this busy crossing the streets were full and so she watched as people, some trying to be inconspicuous and some without a care, broke free from the flow of foot traffic to walk through the large open gate of the House of Hope and up to the front door. It was easier to blend in here, with so many people about—nobody was paying her any attention.

Tav knew she wouldn’t be able to get in through the Devil’s front door without an invitation. The large door was flanked by two guards, both looking burly and bored with their trollish appearance. As each new person approached, their name was checked on a ledger before being let in through the large and overly gilded doors. A glimpse of red velvet and glittering candelabras were seen before the doors closed once more. A moment later the doors opened again and Tav watched the guards hurl a man down the marble stairs and into a puddle left from the evening rain. Clearly, his name had not been on the list.

She knew there would be no ‘Miss Tav Larian’ on that list and so she had planned on how to gain entry. For several days she had perused the building on her walks. This wasn’t a bad place for a young lady to walk during the day, and she was never alone—her aunt had her accompanied by her personal maid, Mayrina, at nearly every waking moment.

But luckily for Tav, Mayrina was an utter goosecap. It was easy to persuade the girl to walk around these surrounding streets of the House of Hope on Tav’s daily walk and claim to be enjoying the architecture and surrounding gardens. All the while, Tav was taking note of the servant's entrance at the back of the mansion and how many people in service there appeared to be. She’d seen a few maids and footmen milling about; preparing horses, bringing in fresh food and loads of baskets filled with sheets.

So now it was easy to slip around the side of the building, searching for the servant's entrance she knew was there. When she spotted the open iron gate, she hurried through and was relieved to see nobody else. Quickly, she pulled off her cloak and hid it behind a nearby statue of an ugly-looking imp. She smoothed her dress down—she’d stolen a long apron from Mayrina and had tied it over her day dress—and fixed the pins in her neatly styled hair and put on the cap she’d also stolen from the maid. Her dress certainly was not the right sort of dress for a maid but with the apron and cap, she didn’t think anyone would notice her dress too much. Auntie was always talking about servants and how they were never noticed. Tav could never understand how Mayrina bore working for her.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself, clutching her reticule tightly. 

It was with a sort of disappointed relief that she found the servant entrance door unlocked. If it had been locked, she could have told herself she had tried and then simply go home. But there was nothing stopping her now. She darted in quickly and waited for the inevitable shout from someone demanding who she was, but none came. There was a young man lounging nearby, idly smoking a grimy looking cigarette. He hastily put it out and looked at Tav with a guilty expression.

“Er, please, don’t tell Korrilla,” he said. “I just needed a quick break.”

Tav raised her chin. “I won’t say anything.” 

The man smiled with relief at her words and Tav tried not to run through the hallway. She passed a few others maids who nodded at her and she returned the greetings. Nobody had said anything! She could barely believe her luck so far, but she did not dare test it. When she came to a set of stairs she quickly ascended until she came to a door which opened with ease as she turned the handle. Creeping through, she found herself on a lushly carpeted floor that was empty of anyone else. Music and laughter greeted her and as she slinked further she realised she had come upon a mezzanine floor. Slowly, she walked forward and peered over the gold balustrade and down below. It was full of people! There were so many tables set up for all different kinds of card games and waiters were walking around with trays laden with champagne. It was like the most raucous soiree Tav had ever seen. She could even spy some men and women lounging together on a settee, sitting far too close than was proper and laughing as they clinked their drinks. Tav’s heart raced when she saw one man slide a hand so effortlessly under one lady's skirt—the woman didn’t even budge! She just laughed again, the feather in her hair swaying hypnotically before she gracefully stood and gestured for the man to follow. Tav watched them as they both drifted off together, arms intertwined, toward a large staircase.

Tav ducked back as the music from below swelled, and in the distance, a champagne cork popped. She’d spotted the cribbage card table and all she had to do was get down there and act like she belonged. 

Easy.

The couple had reached the top of the stairs and Tav watched as they disappeared behind a set of closed doors. She closed her eyes and prayed to any god that may hear her plight and possibly offer guidance. With nothing left to do but either flee or continue with this madness, she steadied her resolve and started to head for the large staircase. Her heart was racing. As soon as she reached the top of the staircase she would remove the apron and cap before stuffing them in a nearby vase. The closer she got the more panicked she became. But she couldn’t leave now. That odious old woman was so desperate to get her to marry the new Earl—her estranged cousin who just happened to be next in line for the title and also just happened to be Ethel’s son. Sometimes Tav wondered if the old woman had poisoned her father and addled his brains to even let him think to give that hag control over Tav and her inheritance.

Too lost in trying not to cast up her supper, Tav failed to hear the door open behind her.

“A lost little mouse is running through the house…”

[zevrans-remade]

yeah.... so i finally got to the start of act 3 and saw the reveal of the guardian/dream visitor's real self and i-

[phaedrinthefaire]

thanks @onlyancunin, this is my new favorite thing™️

+ Bonus:

Custom Astarion reaction badges - Part 2 / ? ______________

Today's batch is sponsored by all the reblogs & comments under the previous part, I am absolutely floored with the response. I read every single one, including the tags, and picked a few I liked.

It was something created on a whim, I thought long and hard if I should even post it, so thank you all the more for accepting my brainrot.

If you have more ideas and/or suggestions for the next batch - for Astarion or anyone else - let me know!

[phaedrinthefaire]

anyone else reload their first Tav’s epilogue sometimes just to feel something

[alpydk]

Just carrying y hands in my Bhaalbag, don't mind me.

[krembruleed]

something's cookingggg

[phaedrinthefaire]

THIS, Tav getting to know the companions with devastating accuracy. It just doesn’t make sense to them how well Tav knows them. Astarion and Lae’zel are suspicious. Gale is impressed. And in time it’s utterly heartbreaking for Tav, reintroducing themselves and fighting and dying for their friends over and over again, shouldering the burden alone, them not able to understand how important each of them have become to them.

The joy in successfully saving Halsin, because he kept dying in the goblin prison, and later kept getting stuck in the Shadowfel. Him being completely confused at Tav so ecstatically saving a stranger, but grateful. Wyll not understanding how chill they are when his pact with Mizora is revealed. Lae’zel agreeing begrudgingly when they convince her with just the right words to leave Vlaakith. They sound rehearsed. Karlach reflecting about Tav’s insistence that they stop everything to find this guy named Dammon, even though Dammon hadn’t the slightest idea who Tav was.

Gale thinks Tav has some sort of secret ability to detect magical objects, because they know exactly where to find dozens, and hands them over willingly. Shadowheart doesn’t like the sad look Tav gives her (that Tav can’t help after experiencing the House of Grief). Astarion is the most suspicious of them all, but he can’t place how Tav could possibly know everything. In loops where Tav tells him they know he’s a vampire and points him towards the best places to hunt, he comes the closest to figuring it out.

And that doesn’t even cover romancing.

Each loop could have elements of different playthroughs with different decisions, since Tav is trying to figure out what works. In time they see the consequences, they see what matters. What matters. How is their morality affected by seeing the patterns and consequences? Saving Isobel is possible but not crucial. Whether they save the grove or destroy it, it all leads to Moonrise. If they help Yurgir he’s freed, but it’s unclear if Astarion ever will be now. If Gale uses the orb in the colony…the loop keeps going, as if...But that’s not acceptable to Tav. Because Gale matters. So they begin again.

They try to be colder in some loops. Tactical. They hold the companions at arm’s length, and try to be all business and strategy.

But it never works, in the end. They’ve too deeply engrained themselves in Tav’s neverending life. They’re family from the blank, lack of recognition in their eyes straight off the nautiloid to the moment they’re dying, again, in Tav’s arms, gazes raw with pain and love.

Umm anyway…you can see I really like this idea x

I have a new idea for a Baldur's Gate 3 fic.

Apologies if someone has already done this.

Ok, so basically, Tav (or whichever companion you want to center) is stuck in a time loop. Every time they die, they wake back up in the mind flayer pod on the nautiloid. Maybe on the first loop, they don't even make it off the nautiloid. Then, during the next loop, the weakened mind flayer in the crash site gets them. Then, on the third loop, they die during the goblin ambush outside the grove.

Every time they come back, they get farther than they did last time but they still keep failing.

For some extra angst, throw in a few loops where they willingly take their own life to reset after one of their companions dies because of their actions. And if you're really feeling spicy, maybe have the companions start to remember bits and pieces of previous loops.

I also think it would be interesting if Withers had full knowledge of the loops but was forbidden to speak of it to Tav, so instead, he offers advice and acts as a source of comfort for Tav.

[kitonmitons]

yall im gonna go insane. i have soooo much schoolwork and only two weeks of school left. for the past 4 days i have been running errands and doing schoolwork from the moment i wake up til i go to sleep. my adhd brain is killing me and i want to play baldurs gate So Bad. I'm GRADUATING in TWO WEEKS!!!!! (associates lol) and all i can think or care abt atm is how bad i need to kiss shadowheart in baldurs gate

[ajokeformur-ray]

The breeze seems to whisper 'I love you' // Astarion x gn!reader / Tav

This is my first Astarion fic so I really hope I bring him justice; he deserves that and everything else which is good in life. It took me three days in total to fall head over heels for him, and this piece is dedicated to @ace-tarion for being such a sweetheart in this, as in everything. I love you, dude!❤️

I haven't played BG3, I know maybe 80% of the plot (tadpoles in brain = bad = travel to Baldur's Gate), I've watched a ton of Astarion clips, so apologies for any inaccuracies or inconsistencies. I'm just here for Astarion (though I'd love to play BG3, I don't have any technology capable of running it💔).

Content: You/Tav x Astarion (established relationship), canonical past for Astarion is hinted at and laced within narrative, cuddles, animals referred to as 'snacks' within mentions of Astarion (only a mention; no actual description of animal-feeding/mentions of anything pertaining to animals being fed on).

Summary: Night-time falls, your heart sinks into your stomach as surely as your body sinks into your bedroll, and you want cuddles from Astarion.

Word count: 1, 624.

I am accepting requests for Astarion ❤️ no smut and no pregnancy/birth/kids!!

You lay on the cold, hard ground. The earth is unforgiving, soaking up the day's sweat without offering any kind of reprieve. Stones and hard clumps of dirt dig into your back through the bedroll, the wind is slightly too cold and it penetrates your thin blanket, haphazardly thrown over you in an attempt to ward off the elements.

Everyone has a tent, except you, and you make it a point to lay as close to the fire as you can on the nights Astarion is out hunting; it wouldn't do to help yourself to his tent. He keeps his tent away from the others, though still adhering to the semi-circle layout chosen by the others around the campfire. He would not mind you letting yourself in to his tent, he would likely welcome returning to you there, and yet you cannot justify it even to yourself.

After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserves every ounce of privacy and the security of knowing his tent is his own.

You sit up just enough to shuffle yourself closer to the fire, curling inwards as a shiver wracks your body. It isn't cold, necessarily, but your temperature is not conducive to a restful sleep. You lay on your back, gazing up at the stars which punctuate the sky, breaking up the inky black and blues with pinpricks of white, yellow, and some dull spots of grey from the stars which died many eons ago and are now fading from the sky.

You promise yourself you'll try to remember their placement in the sky.

Despite the best of intentions, you know that you won't.

Your vision goes blurry at the edges as you continue staring up at the night sky, looking for any constellations you recognise by way of finding yourself a bedtime story to recount as you try to fall asleep. The leaves on the trees sway gently in the breeze, and your mind wanders, as it so often does, to Astarion. Your sweet vampire, who simultaneously breaks your heart and put it back together in the same moment every time you uncover more of who he is, more of his past.

Oh, but you love him.

Of its own accord does your body take a long, deep breath in, your heart sinking into your stomach as surely as your body melts into the bedroll. All of your thoughts of Astarion and all of your feelings for him are safe inside yourself, and they serve you now in warming you from the inside out.

Your eyes slide closed, and if you press your forehead closer into your blanket, you can almost tell yourself that you can feel Astarion lying down beside you, you can smell bergamot and feel his silver hair tickle your cheeks, you can feel his fingers intertwined with yours, your legs tangled together, his crimson eyes upon your face so intently fixed like he's scared to blink in case you disappear before his eyes, leaving him clutching only the cold night air, his equally cold body pressed against every line of yours...

You smile to yourself and burrow deeper into your blanket, feeling sleepier, warmer and closer to your rest by the second. Thoughts of Astarion flood your mind and you curl up tighter, as if to keep all these thoughts right where they are. You know if you open your eyes that you'll be alone; you know not where Astarion is this night, but you know he is trying to sate his hunger with the snacks which live in the forest.

So you keep your eyes shut.

As you allow yourself to slip further into your threshold consciousness, you wonder what Astarion would say to you if he returned at this very moment...

"Hello, sweet. Gods, you are beautiful."

You smile again and squeeze your blanket ever tighter to you. Yes, he would probably say something like -

Wait.

Wait.

Was that - ?

With great caution do you open your eyes, ready to slam them shut again once you see that Astarion isn't there, that he didn't just speak to you. But instead of the cold hard truth slamming into you, flowers bloom in your heart because Astarion is here, looming over you, his silver curls seeming to be glowing in the soft moonlight. His crimson eyes seem black, his charming smirk soft at the edges as he gazes down at you with obvious fondness, vulnerable such as it is.

Of all the stars above me, this one's the prettiest, you think to yourself, and you open your eyes wider to better enjoy the view.

Astarion's smirk melts until it becomes a smile as he kneels down beside you, one of his arms reaching out to brush a leaf away from your face. His fingers ghost across your skin, and you shiver. "Thank you, darling. I know I'm beautiful. Not enough people mention it." His joke fades into vulnerability, as it so often does around you.

But it is no matter. You always meet him where he is, and right now it is no exception.

You smile at Astarion, all of the love for him shining in your eyes until they look like molten galaxies, and he swears he feels his heart, which stopped working centuries ago, skip a beat. You are unguarded where you lay in your threshold consciousness, not embarrassed to have spoke aloud your thoughts, and Astarion wonders if the old saying, that love makes fools of people, is true. You lay at the foot of a vampire, at the foot of a predator, smiling at him, physically and emotionally vulnerable, completely unguarded. Most others at the camp are asleep, Astarion can hear, and yet here you are...

Wait. Why are you awake?

"Darling," Astarion's voice is a hush and you strain your ears to be able to hear him. He bends closer to you to accommodate, anticipating your needs before you fully register them yourself, "Why aren't you sleeping? No harm shall befall you when I'm here." Long ago, he had sought your protection, but now he wanted you both to be safe. If this is how the mighty fall, then Astarion must admit that he is happy he lost his balance. He quite likes the view from down here.

You shake your head and shuffle closer still, unable to get close enough to your most beloved vampire. "Can't sleep without you." I just want to be held.

Oh, help him, but this is devastating in its simplicity. His undead heart bleeds and words have brought Astarion to the point where they run dry. Instead, he stands, and reaches a hand out to you. The message is clear - he wants you to accompany him to his tent, he wants to carve a piece of heaven out with you amongst all the chaos unleashed, he wants to hold and to be held.

Astarion just wants you, and who are you to deny him?

One of your hands slips into his while the other pulls the blanket away from you and Astarion's smile widens as he effortlessly pulls you up to stand beside him. You bend to scoop up your bedroll, and follow Astarion into your tent. The door flap flutters in the wind as Astarion releases it, and it settles in place like a butterfly finding a flower.

You find yourselves easily, your bedroll dumped next to Astarion's, pushed up close until his bedroll becomes a double. It's a well established routine for the two of you, with you spending more nights here than you don't. You never enter his tent if he isn't here, and you certainly never come in without his permission. One day, Astarion will find the words to convey his appreciation for your concern, but until then, he will remind you at every chance he finds that you are always welcome. He finds it greatly ironic that you seek permission to enter space and he, a vampire, does not. He knows he is welcome, wanted, cherished, loved.

It took some work for the both of you to get here, but his months with you are the counterweight to the hell he escaped from.

He'll never be able to thank you enough, he has no idea what he is doing, but perhaps this is a start.

Somehow, through the fuzziness of denied sleep, you end up back in bed, your blanket around you and Astarion's still chest under your head. He lays beneath you like he is patiently waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, and you take the opportunity to wind both of your arms around his waist and squeeze, pulling yourself up just enough to be able to bury your face in his neck. One of your legs slips between his, anchoring the two of you together.

Slowly, like he's afraid to move too quickly in case you disappear within his grasp and leave Astarion holding nothing but the cold empty night air, his hands settle upon your back and a sigh which seems to come from deep within him spells peace for the both of you. "This is nice," Astarion's voice rumbles through your ear and you press yourself ever closer to him, unable to get close enough. Your arms constrict around him again and you feel yourself smile as all those sleepy dreams you were having earlier are now here, beneath you, wrapped around you. As you hold on tighter, so too does Astarion, until the two of you are so completely intertwined that the elements cannot reach you. He has no body temperature and yet you are the comfiest and the warmest you have ever been.

Safe.

This time, Astarion doesn't tell you that you accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud.

[lelianasbong]

I'm gonna CHOKE, this is beyond beautiful. Thank you for sharing this gorgeous piece of art - I'm so glad you enjoyed the fic!

BG3. Wyllstarion. Inspired by the fic "Hear You Me" by @ghastlytofu which does such a lovely job of its core concept from both POVs that I didn't even properly leave a comment or bookmark it yet 'cause apparently I went straight to picking up my pen.

[wixed]

Handle With Care

“Darling you sound absolutely divine.”  his hands grab to move your clothes out of the way best he can. Your eyes flutter open and you gaze into his, however when you meet his gaze your heart drops.

﹌﹌﹌﹌

Pairing: Astarion x Reader/You, GN Reader/You, Sex Ambiguous Reader

CW: Explicit content 18+, mutual masturbation, cum play, ingesting body fluids, dirty talk, talk of past trauma, talking through trauma responses, some angst, pwp, tav has anxiety and non-verbal shut downs.

Word Count: ~4500, two parter

Summary: You and Astarion have found a new rhythm since the defeat of the Nether Brain, living together and attempting something resembling normalcy. One night when he comes home feeling particularly riled up he attempts to initiate intimacy between the two of you. However, you notice he's mentally left, dissociated out of the moment and you decide to stop things. After a brief conflict that is quickly resolved you both decide to try something new to aid in the trauma response.

A tenday or two, possibly three or four came and went since you and your companions brought low the Nether Brain that threatened Baldur’s Gate. 'Perhaps the passage of time was best counted in months at this point' you think to yourself. Relative peace reigned over the city and lands beyond. You initially stayed in the ruined metropolis to help the rebuilding efforts. It wasn’t necessarily where you wanted to settle down, but it served as a decent home for now. 

You weren’t exactly sure where home was going to be, actually. You and Astarion had talked about theoretical futures together the night following the Brain’s defeat, theoretical being the keyword. All you knew for sure was that he was in it. For now that was good enough. No, it was more than enough, it was everything. He was everything. You didn’t notice the smile that crept upon your face while cleaning the remaining dishes from yesterday's dinner. Thoughts of Astarion could make even the most mundane tasks delightful.

“And just what, pray tell, has you smiling to yourself like that? Cleaning dirty cups surely can’t be that amusing”, your lover muses as his arms snake around your waist. Initially startled, your body tenses, but relaxes quickly when it recognizes his touch and scent.  You hadn’t even heard him enter your home, let alone heard him come up behind you. 

“You're particularly light on your feet today" you tease "and if you must know, I was thinking of you.” You turn your head to kiss his cheek as he nuzzles into your neck and hums a happy noise. You smile at the noise and his closeness. Your partner being so close reminded you of times past, when touch wasn't so easy for him. Your mind drifts to memories. 

When you first hugged him, you thought he’d shatter. The elf’s body was so stiff as you wrapped your arms gently around him. Eventually he returned the hug as you felt the first layers of ice start to melt around him. As the days would come to pass, so would more layers of the thick frozen facade that was the Astarion you first met. Those layers would melt away to reveal the man now happily hugging you. His voice cuts through your reminiscing, bringing you back to the present. 

“I couldn’t keep you out of my thoughts either, darling.” Another kiss to your neck punctuates his admission. "Hours feel like days without you." He presses his body up against yours. A shiver of goosebumps spread across your arms. You close your eyes, your cleaning paused as the moment consumes you. You give a quiet hum of satisfaction. His errands must have been very boring, or very frustrating, perhaps both if he was this worked up already. His hands move over yours, guiding them to the countertop before you. His lips brush against your ear. 

“Darling, put the cup down.” he quietly but firmly orders. Another shiver. Your fingers loosen their hold on the cup you had been cleaning. It makes a small splash as it falls back into the bucket of water. Your breath becomes shallow and sharp as his hands move to your waist again, this time grabbing and pulling, turning you to face him. Your eyes meet his, you could lose yourself in them, as if you’re being pulled down into a pool of crimson. He brings a hand up to caress your cheek. 

“There’s the face I longed to see. Longed to kiss.” His hushed voice has a rasp that sets your heart racing. Gods, you loved him. He ran his thumb over your lips, as if to prepare them for his. He leans in and presses his lips to yours, his hand gliding to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. His other hand still grabbing at your waist, moving to your hips, pulling you closer. Your hands were behind you, bracing yourself against the counter, your lover’s need catching you off guard.

Your lips part and you breathe out his name, he practically purrs as he goes for your neck again. Kissing under your chin, down your jaw, moving to the place he frequented for blood. He gave the scars he’d made there extra attention and care, licking over the puncture wounds. You feel a shudder move from your shoulders down to your knees at the lick. He must have felt your reaction too. 

“I love how you squirm for me.” He deftly guides you to the side of where you were standing before, nipping at your neck all while doing so. His hands grab your thighs as he lifts you up onto the counter. You close your eyes again, rolling your head back, enjoying the attention he’s lavishing upon you. You run your fingers through his soft hair, the silvery curls wrapping around your fingers, as if every part of him wanted to play with your body. 

His hands rub up and down your thighs until they find their way to the core of where heat is building inside you. His nimble fingers mixed with a kiss to your sensitive ears tease a moan from you. Humming happily at the noises you make for him, his fingers start to caress your most sensitive areas, rubbing and groping in ways that drive your senses wild. A shiver shoots up from the bottom of your spine to the base of your neck, gooseflesh rising across your skin in response. He smiles at the shiver, leaving your neck. 

“Darling you sound absolutely divine.”  his hands grab to move your clothes out of the way best he can. Your eyes flutter open and you gaze into his, however when you meet his gaze your heart drops.

You see more vermillion color in his eyes than you feel you should, his pupils aren’t dilated with lust or pleasure, his eyes seem dull and…empty. You realize what’s happening, it’s happened before. He’s gone somewhere else, to where you’re not sure, you just know he’s not really here with you. 

The two of you had talked about this before briefly. You’re aware of the reasons why, as is he. Trauma. It almost feels wrong to summarize it into one simple word. It’s both just as simple as that, and so much more complicated. He didn’t want to elucidate though, and you didn’t want to push. You lose track of time, losing yourself in your own thoughts until his hands begin to slip into your pants and make contact with you, skin to skin. A sharp inhale hisses through your teeth. He assumes it’s from the sudden proximity of his fingers and kisses down your neck to your collarbone. 

“As-Astarion…” you quietly plead his name. He’s told you before it’s fine, you know he wants you. This knowledge doesn’t soothe the ache in your heart or the pit in your stomach. You’ve never stopped him before, but you can’t keep going, not this time. It’s too painful. “Astarion stop.” your voice quivers, barely audible. Your lover didn’t hear your small plea. Your hands move to his chest gently pushing him from you. “Astarion, we need to stop”,  you more assuredly command.

His hands remove themselves from your clothing to hold your trembling hands, a look of concern washes over his face. “What is it, love? What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”  His eyes fill with worry and while you feel a pang of guilt you also feel relief that he’s returned to them. His question struck through your heart like a dagger, though. ‘No, you didn’t do anything, it’s not your fault, but we have to stop because of your trauma response.’ How would you even begin to bring it up without sounding cruel? 

“I…I’m fine. It’s just - I don’t know how to say it.” You feel your face start to flush with the heat of anxiety while the pit in your stomach grows and turns. He squeezes your hands in reassurance. “Whatever it is you can tell me, darling.” His voice soft and delicate. 

You swallow the lump forming in your throat and take a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You left. You weren’t here with me.” 

His look of concern slowly shifts to that of confusion. “I’m sorry dear, I don’t follow. When was I not here?” You slip off the counter, standing in front of him, hands still pressed to his chest.

“Just now. When we were being…intimate. You went to that far away place. I-” a nervous hitch in your voice almost chokes you. “I couldn't keep going. I’m sorry. I can’t enjoy it when I know you’re not.” His face twists into an expression you can’t quite place. Somewhere between hurt, shame, and anger. 

“What ever are you on about? I initiated this, why would I not be enjoying it? You’re spending too much time in that pretty little head of yours, darling.” He attempts to candidly brush off the topic. He brings his hand up to your face and brushes your cheek disarmingly. You narrow your eyes in gentle resolve and shake your head. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not mad about it, this isn’t meant as a punishment, I just… I can’t. I shouldn’t.” You know you’re not saying this right, there’s probably a dozen different ways to say this better, but your head is a fog and your chest feels like a storm’s swirling in it. 

He steps back from you dropping your hands as he throws up his. “I don’t understand, I’ve told you I want you, I want this. That I desire you.” he breathes out a sigh of frustration “Yes, sometimes I … do what you’re talking about, but I  promise you, I’m enjoying this.” The annoyance in his voice gave way to exasperated pain by the end of his words. He brushed his curls out of his face, moving his hand through his hair with another sigh. 

You were silent. The guilt you felt overwhelming every other emotion. You began to fidget with your fingers nervously. Words weren’t forming the way they should. You knew he wanted you to acknowledge what he’d said, yet all you could do was avert your eyes and shift uncomfortably.

“I’m not some fragile little babe that needs to be swaddled away from the world.” The frustration grows with a tone of pained anger. You want so badly to take it all back. A wish that you had just kept your mouth shut rockets to the forefront of your mind. 

Astarion gave a huff in irritation at your silence, turning away, ready to leave the conflict. You grab his hand before he could, eyes filling with tears at the touch. 

“I’m sorry…” you choke out, unable to control the quiver in your voice. He immediately softens. The shoulders he had squared up in response to the situation relax and drop. He once again lifts a hand to your face, wiping away the tears threatening to trail down them. 

“Oh love, don’t be sorry. I… I understand why you’re hesitant. Perhaps it will help if I explain things better.” He guides you by the hand to a loveseat in front of the hearth with a fire still crackling. He sat down next to you, his body turned to face you. He gently wipes away more tears as you attempt to compose yourself for what he has to say. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me. Truly. I often still forget that I have a person who loves me, scars and all.” he smiles softly, his round eyes lending a sense of safety and calm as they gaze into yours. 

“I’ve lost so much. So much of my life was taken from me; my freedom, my past, my body, the very breath from my lungs, all whisked away.” he gave a flourish of his hand to emphasize his words.  “Those 200 years of agony and torment made me believe I could never have any of it back.” He took both your hands in his and squeezed them, his thumb rubbing circles against your skin lovingly. “But then you showed me it was possible to take it back.”

You smile at his words. You felt so much love and pride for Astarion. He took ownership of his life back, and he chose to spend it with you. The thought made your heart swell. 

“While I’ve reclaimed some parts of my life, there’s still some things that feel …lost still.” His gaze travels down to the floor momentarily, he takes a deep breath and pushes on. “Ca-... He took so much from me. I don't want this, us, the intimacy we share to be added to the list.” 

Your brow furrows with concern and heartbroken sympathy. Your hand cups his cheek, your thumb gently wiping away a tear forming at the corner of his now wetted eyes. 

“I know it hasn’t been easy, that I still have a lot of …healing to do.” He pauses on the word like it pains him to admit he’s not finished with that part of his past. “I’ve already asked so much of you, my dear but can I be a bit selfish-” he momentarily pauses with a chuckle.”-can I be more selfish and ask you to be patient and trust me while I attempt to reclaim those parts of myself again?” 

You swear if your heart was any fuller it would burst there on the spot. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. You cry softly into his neck and whisper through the tears “Of course, love. Always and forever, whatever you need.” You press a small chaste kiss to his lips. He pulls away from the kiss to pepper more on your cheek, nose, eyelids, forehead, wherever he can kiss before you laugh and rest your forehead against his. He breaks the blissful silence first.

“I love you.” Foreheads still pressed together, his words are accompanied by his hand stroking your hair, combing through it with gentle care.

“I love you, too.” You respond, closing your eyes, taking in the moment with every sense you could. Your lover suddenly but gently pulls you down onto him as he reclines back onto the couch. His arms wrapped so tightly around you there’s no chance of falling off the furniture you’re sharing. You smile and nuzzle into his chest. The two of you stay there, content to just exist in each other’s arms. Sharing space, time, love, sharing everything and anything the world had to offer. 

﹏﹏ Part 2 ﹏﹏

The night went on with a blanket of silent calm that eventually fell over the city. You and Astarion were still cuddled on the love seat, now casually sharing stories of your respective evenings after your very emotional not-quite conflict was resolved. Laughter and smiles fill the room as he complains about politics “The state of judiciary proceedings in this Gods forsaken city is as put together as a child’s left shoelace.”

“Why just the left?” you asked through laughter. 

“Tch, Please darling, everyone knows the left foot is always more out of step than the right.” he very matter-of-factly states with a wave of his hand as if the answer is obvious. 

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” You both chuckle and settle into another rapturous quiet as one hand plays with your hair while the other softly rubs your back. A happy sigh leaves your lips as you trace a finger along the intricate embroidery of his vest. Perhaps it’s because you’re so relaxed and euphoric that you don’t think about the next words out of your mouth.

“Do you ever pleasure yourself?”

His hands freeze as there is a long pause between your question and any other sound. You immediately get flush in the face and bury your head into his chest. He looks down at you with bemusement, eyebrows quirked as much as they possibly could be. 

“Excuse me, dear… Did you just ask if I” he clears his throat “-if I pleasure myself?” He can’t stop the amused confusion from coloring every word in his question.  You bury yourself further into his chest, hoping that would adequately hide you from his teasing.

“I...well, I was just thinking…” you manage to squeak out through muffled embarrassment. You hear him hum a noise that’s almost predatory, as if his mood made an immediate shift. 

“Mmm, thinking about my pleasure? Go on…” he moves his hands to continue rubbing your back, moving lower as he does. 

“Just answer the question, Astarion.” You could feel your pulse racing as the heat in your cheeks climbed to what you were sure was an impossible temperature for mortal cheeks to achieve. “Please.” You add to the end of your plea. 

He huffs at your refusal to indulge his flirtations, “Of course I’ve pleasured myself, darling. I haven’t felt the need to do so in a while, especially now that I have you. But I’ve ‘done the deed’ so to speak.” Hints of embarrassment were at the edges of his words. “What brought on this line of inquiry, dear?”

You find the strength to unbury your face and look up at him, his face wearing a soft smirk. “I was just thinking about earlier and what we talked about. It made me wonder if you ever…you know… go there when you touch yourself.” You try to delicately present the question while still trying to make it clear. He seems to understand as the smirk slowly turns to a pensive neutral expression.

“I…well… I don't…hmm.” He muses thoughtfully, “It’s different, I suppose. Whatever fear or self preservation induced anxiety that might seep in doesn’t stick.” His words find tentative purchase, as if he’s working through the reasons as he explains it out loud. 

Now it was your turn to be impishly suggestive. “I have an idea.” You prop yourself up, bracing yourself on either side of his shoulders, looking down at his very confused but entertained expression. 

“If you don’t get anxious when you pleasure yourself, maybe we can try using that. Sort of an in between step, something we can do …together.” He watches your lips intently as you continue to explain your brilliant idea. His hands move to your thighs and position you over him so you could feel how hard he was getting by just talking. Your eyes flutter shut for a brief moment as you enjoy the feel of him beneath you, you grind your hips ever so slightly against him in response. 

A low sigh of lust fueled longing left his lips as he came up to kiss you. You pull away to continue your thought. “We could make it into a game, a challenge if you will? We watch each other experience pleasure at our own hands.” you move your hips again, leaning down to whisper in his ear “But we can’t touch each other, only watching until we reach ecstasy together.” You kiss his neck and he writhes under you, being driven absolutely wild. 

“My sweet, I'm afraid if you don’t get off of me now, I won’t be able to keep my hands and other things to myself.” He gently thrusts upward so there’s no ambiguity as to what he means. You feel a sense of smug satisfaction as you smile and move to your shared bedroom, removing clothing until there was nothing but your small clothes remaining. He follows behind you, quickly removing his own clothing, the both of you leaving them wherever they lie on the floor. Too distracted and purpose driven to care about the trail of clothing from the love seat to the bedroom. 

You hop onto the bed, positioning yourself at one end. With hungry eyes you watch your lover climb up with you, taking in just how beautiful he was, how much just the sight of his body drove you to the edge of sanity in all the best ways. 

“This was your idea, dear. Why don’t you get started.” The demanding and suggestive tone made your most sensitive areas throb with yearning heat.

You were all too eager to do exactly as he commanded. You move your hand between your legs and begin to touch yourself through the flimsy cloth that still remains there. You’d never done a lot of dirty talk before, but the words fell from your mouth like water from an overfull spring “I want to see you enjoy your body, my love. To hear you moan and whine for me from just the touch of your own hands.” You keep your eyes on him, not wanting to miss a single second. “I need to see you lost in your own bliss.”

A desperate growl from the pale elf echoes in his throat. It turns into a snarl as he locks eyes with you. He removes himself from his remaining under clothes and takes himself in hand. An immediate deep sigh dances on his lips. 

“Fuck." You can't help the profanity as it leaves your mouth. You take him in with your eyes, his still focused on you with blown out lust filled pupils. You quicken the pace of your touch, teasing lewd moans from your own throat. 

"Darling, more…  touch yourself more.” He pumps his cock into his hand, beads of precum already blossoming at the tip. You see his gaze travel from your eyes down your body to where your hand is busy obliging his command. The sharp ridges of your teeth bite down on the soft flesh of your bottom lip. Throbs and pangs of pleasure beat at your core. It's building quickly as you shut your eyes. 

You suddenly feel a shift on the bed and flutter your eyes open as your lover attempts to crawl over you. He stops with one arm supporting his weight on one side of you, the other still gripping and slowly stroking up and down the length of him, hovering over you with a ravenous stare. 

"Ah ah love, no touching. You don’t want to lose our little game do you?” You wet your lips with your tongue as you chide him, close to drooling over the sight of Astarion above you. He gives a smile that shows his hunger for you, his fangs prominent and ready to bite down like you were prey. 

“I do so loathe losing.” He emphasizes the word ‘loathe’ and he gets close to your ear, his breath torturously brushing over your skin. You whimper at his obvious ploy to coax you into touching him first, thus losing the game. You respond by shuffling off the remainder of your underclothes, your nakedness sprawled beneath him, tempting his every urge and instinct.

“You are dastardly.” His hand quickens pace as he strokes his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive tip, gathering the building slick and swiping it down his shaft. He focuses on your face, taking in every twist and twitch of ecstasy that courses through you. You find a rush of excitement flood your cheeks with crimson at the intensity of his stare. Your fingers stroke yourself feverishly, desperately. 

Suddenly a warm wet sensation hits your pelvis. You take the moment to swipe the precum that spilled onto you with a finger from your free hand. You bring it to your mouth and smirk “Careful, love, you’re getting sloppy.” you go to lick the delicious juice from your fingertip when he growls out a low moan. 

“Don’t you dare, you torturous minx.” There was a hitch in his voice as he kept up his pace. He started to buck his hips as he continued to fuck his own hand. His body yearning for more, but his pride not wanting to lose this competition between the two of you. 

You couldn’t help the devious smile that crawled across your face. “Oh… I think I shall dare.” The tip of your tongue flicked across your finger, lapping up the juices he so carelessly dripped onto you. You sucked on your finger, not wanting to waste a single taste. You imagine wrapping your lips around his cock as you close your eyes and push your finger further into your mouth. 

“By the hells, darling…oh fff-fuck.” Astarion was losing himself in the sight of you. His body twitching as the stroking of his cock grew more vigorous and needy. He was close, and so were you. You used your saliva covered fingers to further lubricate yourself as you switched hands, your own hips canting upwards with every stroke. 

“That’s it love, come for me, p-please.” You beg for his pleasure getting lost in your own. Your head wants to throw itself back but you refuse to miss a single second of Astarion’s ecstasy. 

Your lover shuts his eyes as he quickly strokes himself, cries of pleasure escaping his lips. You feel his thighs shake as the pleasure builds in him, and with a final hard pump down his length he’s spilling his orgasm onto your naked torso. The feel and sight of his climax causes yours to crest over the edge and you cry out with him. You grip the sheets at your side with your free hand, your hips keening under him, begging for his body. 

Silence fills the room as you both heave quick sharp breaths. He finally takes a deep heavy inhale and brings his head down to yours, foreheads touching. Something far too sweet and tender for the lewd acts you both just partook of. 

“D-darling, th-that was…” he stutters on the words completely blissed out. He seems too taken with pleasure to continue his thought so you simply meet his lips with a kiss. 

“Yes, it was.” You complete for him, causing him to chuckle. He rolls to your side laying on his back, closing his eyes still taking in the delicious ambrosia. You move a finger to circle the cum still on your chest and belly. You hum a delighted noise as you bring it to your mouth and on suck your finger. 

“Darling, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you will have to prepare for round two.” He opens his eyes and turns his head to intently look upon you, lust and hunger building in him again. “And I’m not playing any games this time.” 

You coyly lick your lips and go back to collect more of his seed. 

Moving with what seemed like supernatural speed, he was on top of you, pinning your arms above your head. 

“I warned you, you deviant little thing.” He purrs with a grin. His lips press to yours in a greedy kiss, his tongue trying to find yours, passion and need taking over every part of his mind, body, and soul. 

As you begin to take of each other for a second time you have the thought that you should definitely do this again. 

***

A/N: First fic, I'm so nervous but the community on this site has bolstered my confidence enough to post this. Would love feedback. I've never written smut before, but really wanted to try it out. I wanted to try the challenge of not just gender neutral, but also leaving the biological sex parts as ambiguous as I could and the focus be on Astarion and his pleasure, as he deserves. Hope you Enjoy! (Thanks to @taradekarios for use of the gif edit)