#bg3 christmas

[moonselune]

🎄A Very BG3 Gentlemen Christmas🎄

Gale:

The cozy warmth of the study was offset by the faint chill of winter creeping through the frosted windows. The room was alight with the soft glow of a roaring fire, the scent of pine from the nearby Christmas tree mingling with the faint aroma of mulled wine. You stood in the middle of it all, wrapped—quite literally—in crimson ribbons that you had artfully tied around yourself, each bow a playful promise. This was your Christmas gift to Gale, and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

Unfortunately, your plan had hit a slight snag.

Gale was seated in his favorite armchair, his nose buried in the ancient tome you had painstakingly tracked down and gifted him earlier that day. The way his eyes lit up when he unwrapped it had been magical in its own way, but now, hours later, the book had fully consumed him. He hadn’t even noticed your grand entrance.

You cleared your throat. “Gale.”

“Mm?” he hummed absently, his finger tracing a line of text. “Fascinating… Did you know the original binding techniques of this era often involved enchanted thread? Remarkable craftsmanship.”

You took a step closer, deliberately letting the bows on the ribbons sway as you leaned against the desk. “That’s wonderful, Gale, but I have… another gift for you.”

“Another gift?” His head tilted slightly, but his eyes remained glued to the page. “You’ve already outdone yourself, my love. Truly, this is the best Christmas in years.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“This one is… special,” you said, your voice laced with suggestion.

“Special, you say?” he murmured, finally glancing up for a fleeting moment. His gaze brushed over you but didn’t linger, his focus drawn back to the book. “I can’t imagine what could top this, but I’m intrigued.”

You were starting to lose patience. With a sigh, you circled behind him and rested your hands on his shoulders, leaning close.

“Gale,” you said, your voice low and insistent. “Look. At. Me.”

“In just a moment,” he replied, oblivious. “I’m at a crucial section on the incantations of—"

Enough was enough. You stepped in front of him, bent slightly, and cupped his jaw with both hands, tilting his face upward.

“Gale Dekarios,” you said firmly. “Look at me.”

And then it happened. His eyes finally focused on you, and the book slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a dull thud. His expression was priceless—a mixture of shock, wonder, and sheer disbelief as he took in the sight of you, wrapped in ribbons and glowing with a mischievous smile.

“You’re… you’re…” Gale stammered, his voice catching as he gestured helplessly at you. “You’re wearing ribbons?”

“Only ribbons,” you clarified with a playful tilt of your head.

His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he reached up to gently touch one of the bows on your shoulder. “This… this is… I mean, you…”

“You’re welcome,” you teased, stepping closer until his hands instinctively came to rest on your bare waist.

Gale exhaled a shaky laugh, his amazement giving way to warmth. “You are the most enchanting, most extraordinary gift I could ever hope for.”

“Better than the book?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Far better than the book,” he said, his voice soft as his hands slid around to pull you into his lap. “Though I may need to thank you for both… at length.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, and for once, the ancient tome lay forgotten as Gale’s full attention was exactly where it belonged—on you.

Astarion:

The room was filled with a cloud of warm steam, the scent of pine, cloves, and orange peels lingering in the air from the simmering pot of mulled wine you’d prepared earlier. Astarion reclined in the large copper bathtub, the water rippling as he shifted dramatically, his arms flung over the sides as though recovering from some great ordeal. His wet silver curls clung to his forehead, and his crimson eyes fixed on you with an exaggerated pout.

“I can’t believe you,” he drawled, his voice a mixture of mockery and genuine indignation. “How could you do this to me, your own lover? It was ruthless. Merciless. Positively inhumane.”

You stifled a giggle, your hand dipping into the water to scoop some of it and gently pour it over his hair.

“I didn’t realize you were so delicate, Astarion,” you teased, fingers working a lather of soap into his damp locks. “It was just a snowball fight.”

“‘Just a snowball fight’?” He turned his head slightly, though the luxurious massage you were giving his scalp quickly dissuaded him from moving too much. “You ambushed me. I didn’t even see that last one coming! And you—I saw you laughing! Laughing at my suffering!”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh again as you recalled the memory. The way he’d flailed when your expertly thrown snowball had hit him square in the chest was nothing short of theatrical.

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” you lied, poorly, as another giggle escaped. “It was just… you looked so surprised.”

“Oh, is that all?” he huffed, his eyes closing as your fingers continued to knead into his scalp, the tension in his posture melting away despite his indignation. “I suppose it’s funny when the vampire freezes to death.”

“You’re not freezing to death,” you pointed out, rinsing the soap out of his hair with a gentle stream of water. “You’re in a hot bath now, aren’t you? Being pampered no less.”

“It’s the very least you could do after your assault,” he countered, though his tone was softening with each stroke of your fingers. He opened one eye to peer at you. “I’m still wet. And cold. And utterly traumatized.”

“Utterly traumatized,” you repeated with mock seriousness, leaning over to grab the goblet of blood you’d set on the edge of the tub for him. “Here. Maybe this will help with your recovery.”

He sat up slightly, taking the goblet with an exaggerated sigh.

“I suppose this will do… for now.” His fingers brushed yours as he accepted the drink, a hint of gratitude in his expression despite his theatrics. He sipped slowly, savouring the blood you had so kindly donated to him, before setting it aside. “Though I’m not entirely convinced you’re sorry.”

“I am sorry,” you said, though your grin betrayed you.

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t look sorry.”

You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips. His indignation melted completely as he kissed you back, his hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. When you pulled away, he was smiling despite himself.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his voice now filled with warmth. “But I suppose I’ll forgive you… this time.”

“Good,” you said, your fingers returning to his hair. “Because I’m not apologizing if we have a rematch tomorrow.”

He laughed, the sound rich and light, as he reclined back into the tub.

“We’ll see who’s laughing then, darling.” But the way his eyes gleamed with affection told you he didn’t mind losing—not if it meant moments like this.

Wyll:

The living room was an absolute disaster, a whirlwind of crumpled wrapping paper, tangled ribbon, and half-used rolls scattered across the floor. You and Wyll sat cross-legged on the rug amidst the chaos, determined to make progress on wrapping presents for the orphans at Halsin's shelter. The intention had been pure; the execution, however, was rapidly devolving into a comedy of errors.

"I don’t understand," Wyll said, brow furrowed as he wrestled with a piece of overly creased paper. "This shouldn’t be that hard! Fold, tape, fold again. How do people do this?"

You tried not to laugh as you watched him; Wyll’s hands were far too big for the small wooden box he was trying to wrap. His brow furrowed deeply as he pulled a strip of ribbon from the ball, only to somehow manage to tie it to his fingers—and then, with shocking precision, his whole palm became firmly affixed to the paper.

“Uh…help?” Wyll said, sheepishly holding up his hand, now cocooned in wrapping paper and ribbon. He wiggled his fingers, unable to escape his accidental gift-trap. “This was not part of the plan.”

You covered your mouth, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “How did you even—? Wyll, are you trying to wrap yourself?”

“Apparently,” he sighed with a dramatic groan, though the smile on his face told you he wasn’t really upset. “The Blade of Frontiers: slayer of fiends, champion of justice…bested by ribbons and paper.”

“Hang on,” you said, crawling over to help free him. “I’ll rescue you, O mighty hero.”

Before you could finish untangling him, however, you got distracted. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted one of the toy wooden trains meant for the children—a quaint little thing, painted red and green, its wheels polished and ready to roll. Without thinking, you picked it up, running it back and forth on the floor with a soft click-clack sound.

Wyll raised a brow, his hand still half-wrapped like a bizarre festive mitten. “Are you seriously playing with the orphans’ toys right now?”

“I’m testing it for quality,” you replied innocently, rolling the train along an invisible track. “We want them to be happy, don’t we?”

He snorted, watching you for a moment before shaking his head and finally freeing his hand from the ribboned trap. “Maker’s breath, you’re worse than me. Come on—we’re supposed to be getting back on track.”

You sighed and set the train aside, giving him a sheepish grin. “You’re right, back to work.”

However, as you grabbed another roll of ribbon, inspiration struck. Wyll was still sitting there with his horns through his hair, utterly unaware of the devious sparkle in your eyes. Quiet as a whisper, you scooted closer, ribbons in hand.

“What are you doing?” Wyll asked, narrowing his eyes as you leaned toward him.

“Nothing,” you said sweetly, fighting back laughter as you began tying a festive red ribbon onto one of his horns. Wyll froze, a mix of amusement and bewilderment crossing his face.

“Wait. Are you decorating me?” His voice was incredulous, though he didn’t move to stop you.

“Yes,” you replied matter-of-factly, adjusting the bow so it sat perfectly. “Hold still—you’ll ruin my work.”

He huffed dramatically, though his grin betrayed him. “This is absurd. I’m not a…a tree.”

“No, you’re better than a tree,” you said with a wink, tying another bow to the opposite horn. “You’re the most festive champion Faerûn has ever seen.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but when you leaned back to admire your handiwork—bright ribbons trailing from his horns—he started laughing. The deep, rich sound filled the room, infectious and warm.

“If anyone walks in and sees me like this…,” Wyll said, his cheeks flushed as he pulled a loose piece of ribbon from his lap.

“They’ll know you’re the life of the party,” you teased, sitting back with a smug grin. “Besides, it suits you.”

Wyll’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his smile lingering. “You’re lucky I adore you.”

“By the gods I am,” you said with a cheeky wink, grabbing another ribbon and waving it like a threat. “Now hold still—I’m thinking of adding some bells next. Ooh! And a star!”

Wyll groaned dramatically, but he couldn’t stop smiling as you playfully reached for him again. For all the mess and chaos, the two of you sat there surrounded by wrapping paper and laughter, the firelight flickering warmly across the room. It was imperfect, clumsy, and entirely yours—exactly how a holiday together should be.

Halsin:

The grove was finally still, the soft hush of evening settling over the festivities. After hours of chaos—distributing presents to bright-eyed orphans, sharing stories by the fire, and ensuring everyone was warm, fed, and smiling—you and Halsin found a moment to simply be. The two of you had retreated to the great oaken hall, where a large pine tree still stood, its branches weighed down with simple ornaments and twinkling lights. The room smelled of pine resin and the faint embers of a dying hearth fire.

With a contented sigh, you collapsed onto a bench, leaning heavily into Halsin, your body still buzzing from the day’s busyness. He chuckled, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest as he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You did well today,” Halsin murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “The children’s laughter… their joy. It was worth every moment of chaos.”

You hummed in agreement, eyes fluttering closed. “It was a perfect Christmas, but exhausting.”

“Indeed,” Halsin said, a teasing edge to his voice. “Though you seem to have missed one thing.”

You cracked open one eye, looking up at him suspiciously. “What? No way. We double-checked the list. Twice.”

Halsin’s lips twitched into a small smile as he nodded toward the tree. “Look again, my heart.”

With a groan, you hauled yourself upright and stumbled over to the tree. Sure enough, tucked just beneath its branches was a small box wrapped in green paper and tied with twine. You blinked, suddenly alert, and picked it up. A gift tag dangled from the twine, with your name scrawled across it in Halsin’s neat, unmistakable handwriting.

You turned around, holding the box aloft and fixing him with an accusing glare. “Halsin. We already exchanged our gifts this morning.”

The archdruid smiled serenely, utterly unrepentant. “I may have planned ahead.”

With a mix of curiosity and suspicion, you sat back down next to him, carefully untying the twine and peeling back the paper. Inside, nestled on a bed of soft moss, was a delicate silver necklace. The pendant was small but exquisitely crafted: a single snowdrop flower, petals inlaid with white enamel, and a tiny glimmering gemstone at its center.

You froze, your fingers trembling as you held it up, the light catching on its intricate details. A lump formed in your throat. Snowdrops—symbols of hope, of rebirth, of beauty in the harshest winters.

“Halsin…” you breathed, barely able to get the words out.

He watched you with infinite warmth, his large hand coming to rest gently on your knee. “It is a small thing, but meaningful. When I saw it, I thought of you: a rare light in the coldest times. It seemed fitting.”

Your chest tightened, emotion swelling as you turned the pendant over in your hand. You knew Halsin well enough to understand the significance of this. He was no fan of crowded cities—the noise, the smells, the clamor of it all. For him to have gone into the heart of one, just to find this for you, made the gift all the more precious.

“You went into the city for this?” you asked, your voice soft, incredulous.

Halsin gave you a sheepish smile, as if the idea of it were no great feat. “I did. I cannot deny it tested my patience, but you are worth that and more.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly wiped at them with your sleeve.

“You big softie,” you choked out, trying to tease him but failing miserably as your voice wavered. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, reaching to take the necklace from your hand. “Here. Allow me.”

You turned your back to him, sweeping your hair aside as his warm, calloused fingers brushed against your skin. He clasped the necklace around your neck, the cool metal settling just above your collarbone. When you turned back to him, his eyes softened as they took you in, the snowdrop resting perfectly against your chest.

“It suits you,” he said softly, his voice low and reverent.

You managed a watery smile, blinking against the tears threatening to spill. “I don’t know how you keep topping yourself, but this… it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Halsin chuckled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You flatter me, my heart. But perfection is fleeting. This moment, however…” He reached up, his thumb brushing a tear away from your cheek. “…this moment I will treasure.”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the tears, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. Halsin pulled you against him, his embrace strong and grounding, his chin resting atop your head as you breathed him in—the smell of pine, earth, and warmth.

“I should scold you for making me cry,” you murmured into his shoulder.

“And yet you haven’t,” Halsin teased softly.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your lips curling into a smirk. “Because you’re lucky I love you.”

He grinned, his eyes bright and filled with love as he leaned forward to kiss you—a kiss slow and lingering, full of warmth and tenderness. Outside, the wind howled and snow fell steadily, but in this moment, everything was still and perfect.

Credit to @tsunami-of-tears for the super cute dividers !

The gentlemen as promised! Hope you guys enjoyed this, will hopefully get back to requests now I just really wanted to make sure I got something christmassy out before the holiday is over. - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[darkurgetrash]

🎄 Umm, yeah, sure Rolan. 🎄

Bonus HD Rolan regretting his life choices:

[trustworthy-liar]

Uh oh! The Archduke is being quite a grumpy gift it seems

Does it count as a "bow on top" prompt?

[xxnashiraxx]

Pairing: Astarion/f!Durge ◇ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia)

Word Count: 6,119

Tags/Warnings: Mature (slight spice), Soft Astarion, Fluff

Summary: It's December in Baldur’s Gate and the snow is falling on Act 3 of Ofelia's adventure. After falling ill to a cold that prevents her from spreading the joy of Christmas to her companions, they decide to band together and prepare it in secret as a surprise for her. As they look for decorations, gifts, and a tree, Astarion reflects on his time with her and contemplates whether or not his gift will convey the depth of his true feelings...

divider here!

AO3 | Song Reference: Let it Snow!

Hi everyone!!! My apologies for this trainwreck, I tried my best on little time, but I really wanted to write something sweet for these two, and I owe inspiration for this oneshot to @caffeinatedmunchkin ! Thank you again friend!!! I also tried as far as the elvish, so please bear with me 🙏🏼

Please enjoy- fluff was needed for the season, and I hope everyone has a lovely day if you celebrate!!! ❤️ You do not need to read the main fic to read this one- it's its own little standalone! 💕

“So, you expect us to believe that some jolly old man goes around to every child in your world and delivers gifts on this ‘Christmas Eve’?” Gale's tone, while incredulous, remains cheerful. “That does not seem feasible, given your planet's population.”

“Well, not every child celebrates Christmas, so not all seven billion. But yeah pretty much,” Ofelia’s eyes light with amusement as Gale begins another spiel into logic and probability, causing Astarion to roll his eyes and grumble into the chalice of blood Ofelia had filled for him not but a few minutes ago.

“It's just make-believe!” Ofelia spouts around giggles, her smile bright. “Not real! Something you tell kids so they behave, but the holiday is still the same- parents get their children gifts, blame it on Santa, make cookies and leave milk out for him for his journey, hang stockings on the mantle to see if they get coal if they’re bad or sweets and little toys if they’re good. It's all for fun- I myself most enjoy the snow and decorations.” She sounds wistful as their ragtag group listens. He watches her face twist slightly as if recalling a bad memory, and he pays attention to the warble in her voice when she next speaks.

“I haven't had a real Christmas since I was still young enough to believe… my parents did everything for me, those first nine years. It was always so magical… pazole, tamales, candy, gifts- I wished they wouldn't have, but they'd do everything, take extra shifts just so there was something under the tree for me… I miss them this time of year. Just a little bit extra.” No longer afraid of the warmth that blooms in his chest, he reaches for her and when his hand rests over her shoulder she turns to him and quickly wipes the moisture from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks crease with an appreciative smile and she squeezes his hand in thanks as the others look around.

“Would you want to celebrate it here?” Karlach asks, setting her cleaned plate off to the side on one of the many little tables littered around their common space in the Elfsong.

“You guys want to?” Ofelia asks with a soft huff, hefty emotion washing from her voice amid the sweet hope that spreads over her face.

“We may not have Santa, but why not? The spirit of gift giving and love isn’t foreign here,” Gale smiles, patting Ofelia’s opposite shoulder.

“Okay… yeah! We’ll have to find a tree, and ornaments, and gift wrapping of some kind- paper will do! Stockings to hang over the fire for each of us… day after tomorrow!” Her eyes brighten at each syllable, and for all the teasing he’d love to utter, he can’t find it in himself to poke when this is the happiest she’s looked since they’d arrived in Baldur’s Gate.

And gods, if it isn’t the happiest he’s been, as well. Since Cazador fell. They still have the brain and two of the Dead Three's chosen left, but curse it all to the hells. Right now perhaps they can indulge in some respite from it all. The calm before the storm.

They move through the rest of the day restocking their supplies, tracking down various needs, and chasing some loose ends. They discover more of Orin’s handiwork littered throughout the city, much to Ofelia’s chagrin, but decide to turn in early in the hopes of getting started on their decorating. Unfortunately, fate has other plans.

“I’m afraid healing magic really only works on injuries and the like- I’m sorry, Ofelia. I know how much this meant to you… perhaps we can have it later in the week?” Shadowheart strokes the human’s face softly, her pale hand meeting russet, clammy skin. Ofelia nods, eyes shifting to a corner of the room as the half-elf leaves and shoots Astarion a pitying frown. When the door shuts, he sinks down beside her and strokes the hair off her cheeks and forehead, fever hot against his cold undead hands.

“This sucks…” She mutters, cheeks ruddy with heat as her body fights against an infection they have no hope of combatting with anything but time and herbs. Already, Jaheira had mixed what little items she had into a concoction Ofelia had knocked back minutes ago, and though a bit of color has returned to her lips, she’s not exactly the picture of good health.

“I’m sorry, darling,” He murmurs, resting the back of his hand against her cheek. He knows she likes it when he does, and she typically runs hot, but this is something else entirely and it pulls at his unbeating heart.

“No, it’s okay… it’s been so long since I’ve tried to decorate, but I did try last year- look.” She strains to her right to grab the object that always manages to mystify him and she starts to scroll through the little frozen pictures on her device before holding some up to him. “I got this really stupid fake tiny tree and I put all those little things on it, got some tinsel and hung it up around the doors and windows.” He peers down at the small room she’d once called home- bright metallic garlands trimming the entryways with twinkling lights adorning the small tree that sits on a table in the center of it. His lips tick up at the corners as he sees her in the next photo, bright red painted lips and golden eyelids, some terribly gaudy red and green jumper covering her chest.

“Beautiful, and loud. As always,” She rolls her eyes at his attempt to poke fun, leaning down more fully onto his right elbow as she tucks herself closer to him.

“I wanted to get a big one this time… really show you guys what it looks like, though I’m not sure what the hell I’d do about the bulbs, or lights, or star on top…” She smiles up at him and he feels his chest twinge with guilt. Of course she’d gone and gotten herself sick somehow…

“There’s… always next year,” He says around the strange doubt in his mind. It’s nothing but disbelief- disbelief that she’s with him at all. That she keeps telling him she loves him. That she keeps promising they’ll defeat the brain and get rid of Orin and Gortash and be able to breathe once it’s all over… together. Sometimes the incredulity of it all still catches him off guard.

“You’re such a big softie, really,” He huffs a laugh, reaching down to pinch one of her cheeks before pressing a terse kiss to the crown of her head.

“And the mistletoe, gods, can’t forget the mistletoe!” She groans, pressing a hand over her eyes as she collapses into the pillows.

“Mistletoe?” He questions. She sighs, spreading her fingers enough so that one eye peeps up at him.

“It’s silly, but you hang it up over a doorway- it’s got these spiky green leaves and cute red berries on it- and if you pass under it with someone else you have to kiss. It’s just the rules,” He smiles, lost amid her explanation though enamored by the wonder in her voice as she speaks. “I've never been kissed under the mistletoe, you know…”

“Hmm, you haven't? Seems we'll have to change that in the future.” She giggles under the kiss he presses to her forehead, careful and full of promise. When he stands he strokes her cheek once more before adjusting the blankets.

“Get some rest, I’ll bring back some soup in a little while.” He whispers, taking her device from her to set back onto the nightstand. She pouts up at him, curiosity in her gaze, and he finishes tucking her in. “I’ll be back, promise,”

Once out in the main room, he finds the rest of his travelling companions speaking in hushed voices around the fireplace, Scratch pacing near Astarion’s feet. The dog quickly ducks in before Astarion gets the door shut, and he smirks knowing Ofelia will at least have some company before he returns to bed. Nearly every morning that mutt’s laying between them or with half his body draped over her legs. She doesn’t seem to mind, and he’s starting to grow accustomed to the beast as well, much to his disdain…

“Vampire- what are we doing about this Christmas?” Lae’zel demands as soon as he’s within a few feet of them. He simpers and sits on a lush ottoman, draping one leg over the other as he accepts a glass of wine from Gale.

“Gods, Lae’zel. We’ve only been travelling together for the last few months, I’d expect you’d have remembered my name by now.” His sly remark is met with the githyanki’s signature Tchk! before Shadowheart grins.

“Now, now, try to get along you two. Your mediator isn’t here,” The half-elf snickers, and Astarion sighs, waving a hand towards the others.

“So, what were you all murmuring about before I came out here? I’m assuming it has something to do with dear Lae’zel’s questioning?” He takes a sip of the wine- an expensive sort that flows easily down his throat- and casts his eyes amongst the others as he watches them exchange nods.

“We want to put it on anyway,” Gale explains, the dark liquor in his glass catching the light of the fire. “She spoke so fondly of it this morning, and to get sick now… it isn’t fair.” Astarion hums, pondering the silence that settles over them once Gale is finished.

He’d been of a similar mind as she’d shown him her pictures- it’d be no easy task to find a tree, especially with them being in the heart of the Gate. Then there was the tinsel he’d seen… they’d perhaps be able to find something like that in the city, the baubles…

“My, my, it’s odd being amongst you all once you actually experience an intelligent thought.” Their murmurs of disbelief and annoyance fuel the smirk that spreads over his lips as he waves a hand “I’ve been snooping through her photos and I’ve got some references we can likely use, though wrestling her away from the damn thing will be a feat in and of itself.” Astarion grumbles around another swig.

“Leave that to me,” Shadowheart assures, clapping her hands together once. “I’ll run her a bath in the morning and make sure she stays in it for a few hours. To ‘leech the toxins’ so to speak. It isn’t as if she’s well versed to our healing methods to know I’m making it up,” Astarion nods, pondering, as the others chime in.

“The tree… we won’t be able to sneak that into the city,” Wyll laments, forefinger stroking over the fine hairs on his face.

“If you were able to secure a sapling, I’m sure I’d be able to encourage it to grow quickly enough.” Halsin adds, earning a nod from the Blade.

“I’ll help with that as well,” Jaheira offers, smile on her softly lined face.

“What about the decorations?” Minthara asks, frowning.

“We’ll figure something out- I’m sure there are plenty of merchants with trinkets and baubles around- Sundries may also have something. We should ask Rolan and his siblings, as well. I seem to remember that Lia had some dolls and things made for the children once they got to the city.” Astarion nods at Gale’s words, contemplating.

“And do not forget gifts for her,” Astarion murmurs crossly, eyes flashing around the room. “At least have the common sense to wrap them first,”

“Course not,” Karlach grins a wide, toothy smile, the likes of which sets his teeth on edge. He'll never let on that it does somewhat please him, however. “We'll get gifts for Ofelia and each other!”

They scatter to their personal rooms or beds, plan worked out in the dim candlelight and hearth as if they’re a secret society. He crawls into bed with his lover, her’s and Scratch’s soft snores filling the room much to his amusement. He checks her temperature, sigh soft on his lips as he rests back against the pillows when he finds it unchanged.

As he lays in bed, his mind spins with the possibilities of all the gifts he could possibly get her- if it were up to him, he’d likely not get one at all. Perhaps steal something.

Images of her adorned with pretty scarlet jewels and glistening pearls flood his vision, though something about jewelry feels almost cold and distant- too obvious a choice. Or possibly even too meaningful, something he isn’t ready for…

No… despite her expect-nothing nature, he’d like to at least try to make this sentimental and meaningful. It could be their last celebration, after all, and gods does he care for her too much not to indulge this simple, saccharine wish. He’ll need to put in the effort- just as she puts in the effort to make him feel cared for each day. He wouldn’t be where he is now without her… without her kindness. It’s a blessing he tries not to take for granted, though he does slip up from time to time. He cannot make that mistake now.

He rises from the bed, trancing left for later, as he pulls some items out of his pack and retrieves a tool kit from the main stock supplies. He’s not sure if he’ll be any good at this, but he doesn’t trust someone else to do the job.

***

“I feel better this morning, I swear…” Ofelia grumbles as Astarion kisses her awake. For the umpteenth time, she thanks the gods that he can’t catch her cold. It’s nice to indulge in a tender kiss first thing, though she’s sure she looks positively awful. Pale skin, scarlet cheeks, sweaty and clammy. She huffs a laugh and pushes him away, making to sit up and use the restroom, but her vision tilts and she stays seated, clutching her head.

“You feel better, hmm?” He trills softly, last syllable enunciated with a haughty laugh. Smug bastard.

“I swear, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’re actually enjoying this.” He stands above her, back of his hand pressing against her forehead, and she lets out a soft moan at the relief. The heat behind her eyelids slowly recedes beneath his touch, and she clutches his hand to hold it still as he hums quietly.

“Well, you do push yourself far too much, darling. Though your pain is something I do not take pleasure in, under these circumstances at least,” She rolls her eyes at the smirk over his lips, longing curling low in her belly in spite of the state of her body.

“Yeah well, you and me both.” She sighs, kissing the back of his hand, and he stoops down to place one of his over her forehead.

“I have some errands to run with Gale of all people- Shadowheart volunteered to stay with you, said she would like to try some kind of healing bath? Silly in my opinion, but who am I to question a cleric’s healing skills?” She groans, lying back on the mattress to stare at the ceiling. She’d really wanted to see if she could convince them to let her go out and find decorations, at least put them up… but it’s not looking probable. That and she’d lied about feeling better to worm her way out of staying in today.

“Ughhhhh,” Her long drawn out groan pulls a light chuckle from the elf and she reaches up to pull him down, knee between her thighs on the spare bit of mattress available, hands at either side of her head. She wraps her arms around his torso and clings to him, trying to absorb as much of him as possible before he leaves for the day.

“I’ll be back later, just relax and enjoy your bath. Maybe there'll be a reward in it for you,” She sighs into his neck, pressing a hot kiss to his skin fueled by the promise of his words, and she smiles when his muscles stiffen. “Patience, dear,” He murmurs as he pulls away and she squeezes him one last time before letting go. There’s a knock at their door and Shadowheart appears, arms laden with towels and supplies. Ofelia smiles forlornly at her, her own far too empty in Astarion’s absence.

She doesn’t notice as she’s ushered into the washroom Astarion’s quick swipe of her phone off the nightstand, or his soft smile in her direction. She doesn’t see that smile widen into a pleased grin as his fingers snake around the gift in his pocket, clutching it with a light squeeze.

***

“Do you think she’ll like it in the morning?” Gale asks Astarion softly, the fruits of their labor casting the main room in a festive glow. Somehow, he’d been able to obtain a lighting spell scroll- something Rolan had insisted upon them not paying for once he’d heard it was for Ofelia’s benefit. Astarion had rolled his eyes- that tiefling wizard ever hopelessly infatuated despite Ofelia’s vehement denial- and they’d stopped for some books as Gale’s gift to her before Astarion had found something for the man as well. His eyes also caught on a crystal carved into the shape of a crescent moon for Shadowheart, and upon realizing his gaze was tracking items for his companions, promptly huffed in annoyance. He’d grabbed the item anyway.

“I think a twig in the corner with lights on it would send her into a fit, but this is much better.” Astarion sighs, thanking the help from the Midwinter celebrations going on around the city for the garlands of pine and the berries that now hang in the frame of every doorway. It’s not as gaudy or brightly colored as the decorations in her apartment from the photos he’d shown them all this morning, but it’ll do. Even he’s feeling a bit of wonder gazing at the lovely spruce the two druids in their group had spent nurturing, as well as cladding in brightly colored glass sphere’s Karlach procured from a friend she’d known before she’d been cast into Avernus.

Presents wrapped in paper of varying colors sit beneath the full branches, a blanket protecting them from the cold floor as Scratch paws restlessly at a long, stick shaped present wrapped in blue paper with his name penned gracefully across its front. Astarion smirks- she’ll get a kick out of that one.

“Great job, Fangs. I almost forget you don’t have a functioning heart sometimes.” Karlach’s teary voice scrapes against his nerves and he sneers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Don’t go spreading that around,” They poke fun at him some more, and thankfully he’s saved by Minthara’s short temper as she demands they all get to bed. It’s almost midnight and she’s not missing a stop from the old geezer- much to his amusement. He just barely manages to duck into his room before they dissolve into a debate about whether or not she’d paid attention to Ofelia’s story, shutting it with a soft click as he stalks over to the bed, shedding clothes on the way.

He hears even breathing- her airways finally starting to clear- and just as he slips beneath the sheets he nearly yelps.

“Hiding from me all day- what, I’m sick and you’re out there looking for a replacement after I wither away?” Her tone is playful and he smirks, admiring the color returning to her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes beneath the light of the full moon. Beneath him.

“Hmm, yes, I was shopping for a new lover today. Pity they all didn’t seem to match your prowess at being irritating. And none of them had these- seems I’m doomed to solitude.” His hands cup her breasts, separated from him by the thin layer of her cotton shirt, and she rolls her eyes and pouts.

“All you’d miss are my tits and my attitude. Rude,” A smile at the corner of her lips betrays her and he grins, fangy and wide, before claiming that smile with a kiss. “Missed you…” She hums, arms winding around his waist, and he matches the sound with sincerity, finding that his day while busy was severely lacking her presence. A travesty, indeed.

“Your fever’s gone,” He mumbles, enjoying the taste of her mouth and the way her hips slightly buck into his own, the hands still firmly anchored to her chest kneading softly. She sighs, baring her throat, and it’s all he can do to not sink his teeth in. Just a bit more recovery, and he’ll indulge in her blood again. He’s holding over with animals in the meantime.

“Mmm, whatever was in that bath made me feel a lot better. And whatever the hell concoction Jaheira made me drink earlier, too- tasted awful but I think it helped.” Her eyes find him and he brushes the hair from her face, slowly sinking onto his side and off of her.

“Good, perhaps we can get back on schedule tomorrow since you’ll be done lazing about.” She scowls and smacks his arm away before yanking the sheets up beneath her chin.

“And I was going to offer you my mouth- jerk.”

“I’ll still take it.”

“Haha. Goodnight.” He smirks and presses a kiss to her lips before lying back, eyes tracking over the beams on the ceiling as she snuggles up close and rests her head over his bicep.

“Goodnight, love.” He whispers, heart tethered to the small gift he intends to give her tomorrow, hope brimming at the fringes of his mind as he pictures her opening it.

***

“Astarion! It’s snowing look, look, wake up!” He does with a start as her hands shake his shoulders, startled out of the trance and back into the real world. For once, his reverie was clouded in visions of her and not nightmarish memories, and as he opens his eyes he yawns.

“It’s been snowing the last couple of days,” He murmurs, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he rises and lets her drag him to the window.

“Yeah, but this one’s stuck,” Her grin is nearly contagious and he fights back the compulsion to instead press his cold nose to the back of her neck as he pulls her into his arms, hands resting over her belly.

“It’s cold, white, a pain to deal with… I’m not sure what you’re so excited about.” He mouths lazily at her pulse point, delighted as her heart beat speeds up, and she laughs.

“You realize you’ve just described yourself, right?” His lips idle over her skin and with an annoyed sigh he bites enough to leave the impression of his teeth but not pierce, earning a satisfying gasp of surprise from her.

“Get dressed, I think you can leave quarantine for breakfast, today,” He knows the plan- pretends that the routine is back to normal. She slips from his arms and goes to her pile of clothing- gods, is she messy- and pulls out some comfortable pants and flashes him a look.

“Get out, I’m going to change.” She demands and he scoffs.

“I’ve seen you naked more times than I can remember, why can’t I stay?” He plays the part of mock dissatisfaction, though he’s silently pleased. It’ll give him an opportunity to check and make sure the dullards outside are ready.

“Just- out!” He huffs, pulling on a pair of pants before making for the door. His tadpole seeks Gale’s, and upon confirming that they’re aware it’s just Astarion exiting the room, he slips out and closes the door behind him.

“She almost ready?” Wyll whispers, tweaking some of the garlands over the mantle as Lae’zel places little rocks in each sock. She’d been far too amused at the prospect of coal for naughty behavior, and had been adamant that none of them deserved candy and would all get a piece each to keep them in perspective. He has to admit, it is a little amusing.

“Getting dressed- should be any moment-” Just as the word leaves his mouth, the door behind him opens and he steps to the side with his heart in his throat.

She’s completely silent, hair brushed into soft waves laying down her back, proper attire donning her body save for the slippers on her feet, and they all hold their breath as her gaze sweeps over the room.

“Hu-huh…?” She mumbles, breath catching, and he watches intently as moisture begins to bead in the corners of her eyes. They all exchange glances, frozen in anticipation, before her hands cover her mouth and she starts to sob. “You guys? Are you serious?”

“Merry Christmas!” Most of them chant- Astarion forgets, Minthara’s nose is buried in a fragrant chardonnay but she tilts the glass in acknowledgement- and they all rush her before he has a chance to dodge them. He’s swept up in Karlach’s large wingspan as she tucks them together and squeezes until white blotches dot his vision, yet the delight from Ofelia keeps him from complaining too loudly about it. Mostly.

She turns to him between embraces, eyes round and soft, and his chest goes tight as he offers her a smile reserved for no other but her. It’s sweet when she returns it- steals the breath he doesn’t need from his lungs, and when she goes to pull him in she clings to him and whispers little reverent ‘I love you’s into his ear as if he’d hung the moon itself. Pride and affection blooms within, and he presses kisses to the side of her head where the others can’t see, though he wouldn’t mind if they did. He’s long past the notion of hiding his feelings for her. From himself or otherwise.

They push her into the best seat- one the others usually fight over- and Karlach excitedly pulls gifts from the pile to start passing around. Astarion’s gift to her is tucked behind the tree and hidden- saving the best for last. Hopefully. No, he’s confident.

Ofelia laughs at the coal in the sock, munches on fudge from the bakery near the entrance to the upper city, enjoys the books Gale’s gifted her and the plush dog that Lia had sewn and stuffed. She remarks about the lights, face brighter than he’s ever seen it, and forces Minthara into a tight hug and kiss on her plum cheeks as Ofelia clutches the necklace adorned with a single ruby charm and spider etched into its stone. The drow protests and growls in annoyance, but it’s all really just for show. Once turned away, she smiles into her cup and quickly clears her throat afterward.

They all offer her small trinkets or treats, and he’s content to just sit and watch, but he’s swept up by the spirit of it all as he opens small packages with his name on it. A silver pocket watch from Shadowheart, a silken kerchief from Wyll, a new scabbard for his dagger in dark leather from Lae’zel. He’d not expected anything, even vehemently enunciated that this is for her, not him, but despite his claims it seems no one listened to him. What else is new?

“That’s it!” Karlach proclaims from beside the tree, tossing candy and pastries in her mouth by the fistful as the others sip on warm beverages or partake in alcohol around the heat of the fire. His eyes go to the frosted window, the entire city covered in a blanket of white. He decides, for the first time, that it looks much better this way.

“You didn’t get anything for Ofelia?” Gale asks, and Astarion’s hackles raise as he feels the ire rise and claim the atmosphere.

“I saved the best for last,” He stands with a flourish, calming the mood before his head ends up on a pike. “Besides, who went to all this trouble?”

“Don’t take all the credit!” Shadowheart snaps and he smiles as he turns his back to them, going behind the tree to pluck his gift from beneath an alcove in the wall. His eyes linger over shiny red paper- this, at least, he'd stolen. For a moment, he hesitates. His fingers wrap around it, her name glaring back, and he wonders if this will be good enough. He'd seen everyone's carefully thought out gifts, hells, had even managed to hit the nail on its head a few times for the others. But Ofelia? She's the one he needs to get right. Above all else, he can't fail.

He steels himself and turns, each step towards her smiling face making him question the object in his outstretched hand, and when she takes it he stands stiff and still- making no move to breathe or blink or talk. She gingerly unwraps it at the seams, her pulse racing in his ears as she continues to pry back the paper, and he watches her stop as a soft breath vacates her lungs.

“Star…” It feels as if a century passes before his eyes when she finally speaks, pulling the dagger from the paper to hold up and admire. The metal flashes, light glancing off the engraving near the hilt- one she speaks in hushed tones as if in prayer.

“Nin anor,” Her lips shape around the elegant script as if she's painting it in the air, and once it's hanging around them he knows it's right. Knows it's right in the way she looks at him, in the way the sun, through a break in the clouds, casts a golden glow around her. It breaks on her skin and sinks in, frames her like it did that day in the sand, that day he'd first tasted freedom. The first day he'd met her and had heard her heart quicken beneath the sharp edge of his blade- the blade she now cradles in her hands.

Purpose, like a compulsion, stole his mind the moment chisel met steel. Illuminated by candles, he'd carved in elvish the words he's said to her over and over, again and again. Against her lips as he makes love to her, into the crown of her head as he pulls her into an embrace. Softly, against her forearm as she returned to herself enough to let go of his neck and fight the urge…

“My sun…” He breathes back, and she's out of the chair faster than he can blink. With a laugh that's no more than a huff, he wraps his arms around her and squeezes back, smiles as she laughs and sniffles and sighs.

“I love you,” It's quiet against his ear, and a barely perceptible shiver trembles through his limbs in reply. He'd been worried for nothing, and that's cemented further when she pulls back and the grin on her face renders him speechless.

“A knife? You got her a knife?” Karlach asks, bewildered, and the tension in his limbs falls away when Ofelia looks at him and laughs. This time, he doesn't fight the impulse to join her and it's freeing and juvenile, but worth the joy it brings.

***

“It's the one he threatened me with when we first met,” Ofelia smiles as she finishes off her plate of roast meats, fresh greens and potatoes. She pushes it towards the center of the table, leaning back in the chair as she admires the way the fire looks as it dances in his crimson eyes. He's beautiful, and her heart slams into her ribs like it's trying to break free- that look he gives her never failing to stir an ache in her chest that feels like it consumes just as much as it grows.

“Hmmm… and how is that romantic?” Gale asks around the cookie in his mouth. Ofelia chuckles at his muffled words, about to speak when Minthara beats her to it.

“Is it not provocative to feel the sting of your lover's blade against your skin? The dance between pleasure and pain, the testament of your trust in them not to supply too much pressure lest they end your life?” Gale swallows thickly, stiffening when the drow places her hand on his arm. “If you do not understand, I will show you tonight, wizard.”

Their group laughs, partaking in drinks that almost remind Ofelia of home. Something that tastes like hot chocolate fills her belly as Astarion holds her close, swaying softly to the music that pours from Ofelia's speaker- an old favorite.

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” She murmurs against his shoulder, echoing the melody as he squeezes her hips.

“You liked your gift?” His voice is quiet- almost shy. Her arms circle him tighter, letting him guide her through the room as their companions slowly start to filter off to bed. The entire day had been like a dream- a perfect, beautiful reprieve from pain or worry. Something rare and sweet- sorely missed in the years since and filling the empty hole in her heart with so much that it almost hurts to contain. Family. Love.

“I'll cherish it forever, Star,” She smiles, pulling away to stroke her fingers over his cheek. It's cool beneath them, and his smile is relaxed as it spreads over his face. She bumps the door frame to their room with a soft laugh and his gaze lifts up above her head, causing her to redirect hers and stop almost disbelievingly over green leaves and white berries.

“There weren't any red,” He hums softly, but her throat is dry and her ears are filled with cotton when she looks back at him. Moonlight turns his hair to silver and his skin to marble, and as she looks at him and watches him lean closer, she's not sure if she'll ever deserve the affection he now presses to her lips.

Hands tangle in her long hair, chest to chest, the taste of wine on his tongue- her stomach clenches in fear of the future, of losing it all, of making a mistake or failing to free them from the brain. All of it looms like a dark cloud, trying to swallow her whole, but then he's pushing them into the room, shutting their door and latching it. He's driving her back, legs folding until she's forced to collapse onto the mattress, heat pooling in her belly low and needy when he goes to push her sweater up over her head.

“I feel bad I didn't get anyone else a gift,” She whispers and he snorts, discarding his shirt onto the floor as he starts to untie the shirt barring him from further access.

“Anyone else? What did you get me?” She laughs when he stops, frozen at the sight beneath her clothes.

“I got these a few days ago… was going to at least do this since I couldn't get presents or decorate.” His irises narrow into thin lines between the enlarging of his pupils, gaze dragging down her form as he tugs her pants down and off. Ribbons and lace, scarlet and black, cradle her breasts and expose the underside of them while big red bows conceal her nipples. Her underwear leaves nothing to the imagination, either, and his lips part around a raw hum of appreciation when he discovers with his eyes the way the fabric conveniently vanishes beneath the waistband.

“Gods…” It's brittle and needy and she smiles wickedly when his clothes fall to the floor.

“Unwrap me?” She whispers.

“Yes,” He breathes.

She laughs as his fingers find give on the bows and he pulls them apart, mouth chasing his touch as he pushes her thighs back and sinks inside. She sobs his name as he sets a feverish pace, mind nothing but foggy desire and heady affection. Affection for him, for this, for them. She clings to him like her life depends on it, canting her hips in time with his, every sensation as intense and lovely like she's experiencing it for the first time.

She leans in and kisses his ear, revels in the shivers that shake through his body when she tightens her grip. They're teetering over the edge, now- drawing to a close. But even so, she knows it won't be the end. Not when she's right where she's supposed to be.

Like the phantoms of quivering tree limbs, the warmth of the sand beneath her body, the flash of a blade while rubies danced in her vision she feels him. Feels him in every pore, every beat of her heart as he meets her eyes and opens his mouth to speak. Soft and full of promises they never knew were made that day on the beach.

“Nin anor,”

[thechaoticdruid]

Merry early Christmas y'all. Sorry for the lack of updates so here's an Astarielf to put on your shelf.

[gracielikegrapes]

BG3 TAV XMAS

[scrapsovereign]

When kissing the wizard under the mistletoe gets out of hand…

Full Version on Skitter

[tav-intranquila]

Soo… here is Vega setting the dinner table for the holidays

[ellekhen]

The stars in between.

Chapter 3 - Gifts

(Happy holidays, folks! Cozy Churchstarion continues.)

Chapter Summary: Astarion finds the warmth of his former companions’ company by the fire, although he is again intimidated by the gifts Church has lovingly crafted for them. But before Astarion can find another excuse to wallow, Church steals him away for a dance — as well as yet another precious moment for just them.

Excerpt below:

A warm hand slips into Astarion’s, squeezing it.   “Everyone seems so happy,” Church says softly, resting his head against his partner’s shoulder.  “As do you,” Astarion murmurs, smiling down at him. For the most part, it’s true. But the tiefling still seems preoccupied by something. “What’s troubling you, my dear?” “Ah, nothing,” Church lies.  “Darling, you’ve hardly eaten a thing all night,” Astarion chides him. “Don’t think I haven’t been watching.” He grabs one of Mrs. Dekarios’s fruit tartlets and holds it up to the protesting tiefling’s mouth — insistently.  “Eat,” he commands. “It’s no wonder you haven’t been holding your drinks well.” “Fine,” Church grumbles, taking a messy bite of the tart from the elf’s hand. “Ugh. Delicious.” He lets Astarion shove the rest into his mouth, grinning as he watches the tiefling chew it happily.  “Honestly, how do you manage without me?” Astarion scolds him as he swallows, brushing away the crumbs.  “No idea,” Church smiles at him, warmly. “Dance with me?” “What?” the elf blinks.  “Dance with me!” Church laughs, pulling the rogue over to where Wyll leaps and spins somewhere beyond the fire. 

Read more on Ao3!

...or, start from the beginning!

[moonselune]

🎄A Very BG3 Ladies Christmas 🎄

Karlach:

The cottage was alive with the warmth of anticipation and the smell of a Christmas dinner in the making. The air was fragrant with roasting vegetables, a hint of spiced cider simmering on the stove, and the rich, buttery aroma of a pie baking in the oven. The small Christmas tree in the corner stood proudly, adorned with mismatched trinkets and tinsel—an endearing chaos that spoke of love and effort rather than precision. You hummed a cheerful yuletide tune as you stirred the gravy, your mind lost in the rhythm of preparation.

Outside, the steady thwack of an axe splitting wood echoed through the snow-covered landscape. Karlach had insisted on chopping wood, declaring that no infernal engine-powered warrior was going to let a little cold stop her. Occasionally, a loud curse or exclamation of triumph would ring out, bringing a smile to your face.

Suddenly, the door burst open with a gust of icy wind, snowflakes tumbling inside like tiny invaders. Karlach filled the doorway, her broad frame outlined against the snowy backdrop, steam rising from her in wispy tendrils as her infernal engine battled the chill. She stomped her boots on the mat, shaking off the snow, and let out a loud, exuberant curse.

“Hellfire and holly berries, it smells amazing in here!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she caught sight of you. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly damp from melted snow, and she carried an armful of wood, which she promptly dumped by the fire.

You turned, laughing, wiping your hands on a dishtowel. “Karlach! You’re bringing half the snow inside with you!”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she practically bounded across the room to your side.

“Forget the snow—what are you making? It smells like heaven in here!” Her voice was full of wonder as she peeked over your shoulder at the pots and pans.

“It’s a practice run for Christmas dinner,” you explained, still smiling. “I wanted to make sure everything turns out right for the big day.”

“Well, let me be your taste-tester,” she declared, already reaching for a spoon. You playfully swatted her hand away but couldn’t stop laughing as her persistence wore you down.

One by one, you let her sample everything—the velvety mashed potatoes, the savory gravy, the tender roasted vegetables, and even a bite of the pie crust you’d saved from earlier. Each taste was met with exaggerated groans of delight and compliments that made your cheeks warm.

“You’re going to spoil your appetite for the actual dinner,” you teased as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Karlach leaned against the counter, her grin widening. “Worth it.”

Just as you were about to turn back to the stove, she cleared her throat dramatically.

“You missed something,” she said, her voice full of playful mischief.

You frowned, looking at her in confusion. “What? Did I forget a seasoning?”

Karlach simply gestured upward with a devilish smile. You followed her gaze and froze. Dangling above the two of you, tied hastily with a red ribbon, was a sprig of mistletoe. Your mouth opened in mock indignation.

“When did you even—”

Karlach didn’t give you a chance to finish. She closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulled you close.

“Merry Christmas,” she murmured, her voice warm and soft despite the grin on her lips. Then, with the snow melting in her hair and the scent of Christmas filling the air, she kissed you—a kiss full of love, fire, and all the joy of the season.

As you pulled away, her grin turned cheeky. “Best practice run ever.”

Minthara:

The hearth crackled softly, its warmth radiating across the fur rug where you and Minthara lay intertwined. Limbs tangled effortlessly, her pale, slender fingers tracing lazy circles along your arm as you both held goblets of wine. The flickering firelight painted her silver hair with streaks of gold, her crimson eyes glowing with a rare softness reserved for these quiet moments.

Minthara tilted her head, her lips brushing against yours briefly before she pulled back with a smirk. "So, tell me more about this… Christmas of yours. You say it is a time of joy, but from what you’ve described, it sounds more like an invitation for chaos."

You chuckled, swirling your wine thoughtfully. "Well, it’s a celebration of togetherness, goodwill, and generosity. There are decorations, like holly and mistletoe, feasts, gifts exchanged, and songs sung by the hearth."

She raised a silver brow, clearly unconvinced.

"So, you gather your loved ones in one place, get them drunk on wine and spirits, fatten them with food, and create an air of contentment with gifts and song?" She leaned closer, her expression sharpening with amusement. "If I were in Menzoberranzan, that would be the perfect time to eliminate one's foes. No one would see it coming. Poison in the goblet, a knife between the ribs. A massacre veiled in celebration."

Her words, spoken with an alarming mixture of sincerity and delight, made you burst into laughter. She frowned, watching you with mock offense as your shoulders shook.

"Minthara," you said, catching your breath, "never change."

She huffed softly, though her lips twitched upward. As you turned to refill her goblet, a glint of red and green caught her eye. She plucked a sprig of holly from where it had fallen from the mantlepiece, holding it up with curiosity.

"Is this the plant you mentioned? The one you claim people kiss beneath?"

You glanced at the holly, shaking your head with a grin. "No, that's holly. The plant you're thinking of is mistletoe. It has white berries and hangs in doorways."

Minthara scowled at the holly as if it had personally offended her and tossed it into the fire without a second thought. The flames hissed as they consumed the sprig.

"Useless," she muttered, but her smirk returned as she fixed her gaze on you. "And mistletoe means you must kiss, no matter what? Such an excellent tradition. I like that power."

You reached to brush a strand of her hair away from her face, your voice soft and amused. "Minthara, you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me. You already have that power."

Her eyes narrowed, and her smirk grew predatory. She set her goblet aside and in one fluid motion, she was on top of you, pressing you down into the soft fur beneath. Her fingers curled into your hair as her lips hovered just above yours, her smile wicked yet filled with an undeniable affection.

"I suppose you’re right," she purred, her breath warm against your lips. "But hearing you admit it makes it all the sweeter."

And with that, she kissed you deeply, the fire crackling beside you as the warmth of her affection matched the heat of the hearth. You could only surrender, lost in her intoxicating mix of passion and dominance, silently thanking the universe for the strange, wonderful joy that was Minthara.

Lae'zel:

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the room. You and Lae’zel sat on a plush rug, sharing a bottle of spiced wine you had brought out in the spirit of the season. Lae’zel’s cheeks were flushed, both from the alcohol and the comfort of the evening, and her usually sharp gaze had softened into something almost dreamlike—though her natural intensity never wavered entirely.

"Tell me more of this… Saint Nick," Lae’zel said, her words slow and slightly slurred. She leaned back, her movements less precise than usual, a rare sight for the disciplined warrior.

You grinned, already halfway through explaining Christmas traditions to her. The concept seemed to fascinate her, though not in the way you’d expected.

"Well," you began, swirling the wine in your cup, "he’s a mysterious figure. He watches over everyone and knows if you’ve been naughty or nice. Then, on Christmas Eve, he sneaks into homes and leaves gifts—or coal, if you’ve been bad."

Lae’zel stared at you, her golden eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"This… Saint Nick judges mortals?" she said, her tone low and dangerous, the way she might speak of an illithid. "He decides who is deserving and who is not? And then he enters your home without challenge?"

You blinked at her, trying not to laugh, but her fiery indignation was already bubbling to the surface.

"Well, yes," you said cautiously, "but it’s a good thing. People leave cookies and milk for him. And he travels the whole world in one night, pulled by a sleigh of flying reindeer."

Lae’zel froze, staring at you as though you’d just revealed some deep, existential threat.

"Flying reindeer?" she repeated slowly, as though tasting the words for the first time. "An army of magical beasts at his command? This is no benevolent figure. This is a tyrant cloaked in merriment and mystery! This… Saint Nick must be stopped."

You burst into laughter, doubling over as Lae’zel rose unsteadily to her feet. She wobbled slightly but held herself upright with the ferocity of sheer will.

"Lae’zel," you choked out between laughs, "it’s not like that—"

"It is exactly like that," she snapped, pointing a finger at you accusingly. "He knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you are awake. What kind of perverse spy is this?" She began pacing—well, swaying more than pacing—her usual commanding movements undermined by the wine.

"To pass judgment on us, he must have some means of divination," she continued, her voice rising dramatically. "And to cover the entire world in one night? That requires an artifact of immense power, or perhaps a pact with some vile entity." She stopped suddenly, glaring at you. "And you celebrate this?"

You couldn’t contain yourself. Tears streamed down your face as you laughed uncontrollably, clutching your sides. "Lae’zel, he’s not… He’s just a legend!"

"A legend that invades homes and enlists magical beasts!" she shot back, wobbling slightly as she pointed at the ceiling. "One of them with a glowing nose? That sounds like a weapon. A means to light the sky and strike terror into his enemies. This is an emergency, tav."

You tried to speak but could only wheeze through your laughter. Lae’zel glared at you, clearly unamused by your mirth.

She crossed her arms, swaying slightly, and declared, "This… Santa shall not enter our home unchallenged. If he dares to come, I will meet him blade in hand and show him the folly of judging Lae’zel of the crèche."

Her dramatic proclamation only made you laugh harder. She stepped closer, leaning down until her face was level with yours.

"Do not laugh," she growled, though there was no true anger in her tone. "You may mock now, but when the sky is filled with reindeer and the tyrant descends, you will thank me for my vigilance."

You gasped for breath, wiping tears from your eyes.

"Lae’zel, I can’t… I can’t breathe…" you managed, your sides aching.

She huffed and sat back down, muttering darkly to herself. "A man who spies on the world and judges mortals. Hmph. He should fear me."

You leaned against her shoulder, still laughing, and she begrudgingly allowed it, though she continued to mutter about "the audacity of Saint Nick" and "the treachery of reindeer." Even drunk, she was a force to be reckoned with, and as absurd as the moment was, you couldn’t help but adore her passion.

By the end of the night, you were both sprawled on the rug, her mutterings fading into soft breaths as she drifted off. You chuckled to yourself, imagining Lae’zel standing guard on Christmas Eve, ready to face Santa Claus himself. As chaotic as it was, it was moments like these that made you fall even more in love with her.

Shadowheart:

Wyll's Christmas party as the Grand Duke was in full swing, the chatter of the guests blending with the faint sound of music and the warm crackle of a nearby hearth. You and Shadowheart had started the evening with the best of intentions—just a drink or two to toast the season. But as the night wore on, the drinks multiplied, and soon enough, you were both laughing louder and leaning on each other a little more than usual.

"We need to sober up," Shadowheart declared at one point, her words slurring ever so slightly. Her silver hair gleamed in the dim light, and her cheeks were flushed from laughter and drink. "We’re champions of the gods, or at least I am. We can't let this… festive nonsense take hoo-miliate us."

You nodded sagely, or as sagely as you could manage, trying to appear serious despite the hiccup that punctuated your agreement.

"Food," you said with a dramatic wave of your hand. "We need food. Lots of it. I’ll meet you in the cloakroom."

With that, you both set off on your respective missions, weaving through the throngs of merry partygoers with the determination of someone attempting a noble quest. You managed to swipe an entire tray of vol-au-vents from the buffet table, dodging a suspicious glance from the server as you disappeared into the hallway.

When you finally reached the cloakroom, precariously balancing your loot, you opened the door to find Shadowheart already there. She was perched on a pile of cloaks, her black dress blending with the dark fabric beneath her, and a plate piled high with food rested in her lap. Her mischievous smile greeted you as she popped a small tart into her mouth.

"Ah, there you are," she said, her voice tinged with amusement. "Impressive haul. Truly, you’re a scavenger after my own heart."

You stumbled into the room, letting the door close behind you as you plopped down beside her on the makeshift throne of cloaks. With a mouth full of food, you gestured proudly at your tray.

"Vol-au-vents," you mumbled, spraying crumbs as you grinned.

Shadowheart looked at your tray and gave an approving nod, but then her smile turned sly.

"Not bad," she admitted, "but I think I’ve outdone you."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, as she reached behind her and pulled out a hidden bottle of wine, still corked. She held it up triumphantly, her grin widening as she caught your expression.

"You’re a genius," you said, reverence in your voice as you stared at her with newfound admiration. "I fell in love with a genius."

Shadowheart’s laughter filled the small room, warm and soft, as she handed you the bottle. "Well, don’t just sit there praising me. Open it. Let’s celebrate our brilliance."

You fumbled with the cork, eventually managing to pop it free with a satisfying thunk. The two of you toasted each other, forgetting entirely that this entire plan had been about sobering up. Between bites of stolen party food and sips of wine, the night blurred into a haze of laughter and whispered conversations.

At some point, you leaned your head against Shadowheart’s shoulder, and she rested hers against yours, both of you basking in the warmth of the small room and each other’s presence. The wine bottle lay empty on the floor, surrounded by crumbs and half-eaten vol-au-vents.

It was in this state that Wyll found you hours later. He opened the cloakroom door, intending to grab a spare scarf, and stopped short at the sight before him.

You and Shadowheart were curled up together on the pile of cloaks, both of you sound asleep. Your heads rested against each other, and her arm was draped loosely across your chest. The plate of food had tipped over, scattering crumbs everywhere, and the empty wine bottle glinted in the faint light from the hallway.

Wyll sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement crossing his face.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath. "The two of you are impossible."

He grabbed the nearest cloak, tossed it gently over the two of you, and quietly shut the door, shaking his head as he returned to the party. After all, it was Christmas—he could let you two have your moment.

Jaheira:

The smell of simmering spices and citrus filled the small kitchen, making the chilly winter air beyond the windows seem like a distant memory. You stood side by side with Jaheira, each of you tending to a pot of mulled wine over the crackling fire. Jaheira’s pot was a picture of precision—carefully balanced spices floating atop deep crimson wine, orange slices nestled just right. Yours, on the other hand, was more of a chaotic experiment, and Jaheira’s exasperation was already palpable.

"Now," Jaheira began, her voice steady with the wisdom of a seasoned teacher, "you must be patient. The key to good mulled wine is balance. Too much cinnamon, and it overpowers the rest. Too little, and it lacks warmth. Watch carefully as I—what are you doing?"

You glanced over guiltily, holding a small pinch of dried chili flakes above your pot.

"I thought it could use a little kick," you said with a sheepish smile.

Jaheira pinched the bridge of her nose. "Spiced wine is already warm. It does not need to burn the throat as well."

You shrugged. "It’ll be fine," you assured her, dropping the flakes in anyway. "I trust my instincts."

Jaheira’s lips pressed into a thin line, though you could see the flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Your instincts are going to ruin perfectly good wine," she muttered, returning her focus to her pot. "Pay attention to the proportions. A single bay leaf. Three cloves. One star anise. Not—" she gestured to your chaotic collection of additions, including what looked suspiciously like a sprig of mint, "whatever that is."

"It’s innovation!" you countered, adding a drizzle of honey without measuring.

"It’s madness," Jaheira replied, shaking her head. Still, there was a fondness in her tone as she stirred her pot with practiced grace.

You worked in silence for a while, sneaking glances at Jaheira’s meticulous process. Her hands moved with such certainty, each motion deliberate and confident. She was as commanding in the kitchen as she was on the battlefield, and you couldn’t help but admire her.

"Are you paying attention?" she asked suddenly, catching you watching her.

"Of course," you said quickly, though your pot told a different story. It bubbled ominously, the array of ingredients battling for dominance in a way that was decidedly unbalanced.

Jaheira sighed. "I’ve never met someone so determined to ruin a simple recipe," she said, but there was a softness in her voice that betrayed her amusement.

Finally, both pots were ready. You ladled some of your concoction into a mug and took a tentative sip, trying not to grimace as the chaotic blend of flavors assaulted your tongue. The chili was overpowering, the honey cloying, and the mint—why had you added mint?—was an unmitigated disaster.

Jaheira arched a brow, waiting for your verdict.

"Well?" she asked, the faintest smile playing on her lips.

"It’s, uh…" you hesitated, searching for the least damning word. "…Bold?"

Jaheira laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room. "Bold is one word for it. Let me guess—too much chili?"

"Maybe a little," you admitted, setting the mug down and reaching for hers. "Can I try yours?"

"Be my guest," she said, handing you her mug with a triumphant look.

You took a sip, and your eyes widened as the flavors unfolded on your tongue. It was perfection—the warmth of cinnamon, the depth of cloves, the subtle sweetness of honey, and the brightness of citrus all working in harmony. It was everything mulled wine should be, and then some.

"Jaheira," you said, your voice almost reverent, "this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted."

Her expression softened, pleased with your praise, but before she could reply, you added with a grin, "Well, second best. You’ll always be number one."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, though she maintained her composure.

"Really?" she said, her voice laced with mock disapproval. "My children are around."

"Your children are always around, there are thousands of them." You chuckled, leaning in closer. "But I don’t see any now."

"That is beside the point," Jaheira said, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She took the mug from you and set it down before pointing a stern finger at your chest. "Next time, you follow my instructions to the letter. No improvising."

"Yes, ma’am," you said with a grin, earning an eye-roll and a small smile from her. You pout at her and move in, capturing her lips in a stolen - festive- kiss.

Credit to @tsunami-of-tears for the super cute dividers !

A little festive treat for you all, there will be a boys version coming up. I am getting back into writing after all the chaos that has been my personal life these past few weeks. So hope you guys enjoy it !! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[thrawns-babygirl]

He's grumpy but in the Christmas spirit (reluctantly)

Original image from @hourlyastarion

[vargassdottir]

This video literally had me in stitches 😂 love that the cast decided to do this!

Baldur's Gate 3: Christmas Gift

[quibbs]

FINALLY got to know minthara... no notes. life of the party

[lazylittledragon]

merry chrysler!! i almost forgot this was happening until like a week ago

[thechaoticdruid]

This Bites

|🎄Christmas Special 🎁|

Merry Late Christmas Everyone!

This Bites:

Chapter 1

Chapter 9

Valentine's Day Special!

“Winnie! Could you give me a hand please?” Becca asked as she pulled a large fake pine tree into the living of her two story home. Astarion sat on the couch with Maddie snuggled up in his lap while he was dressed in a fluffy red robe. His blood red eyes were focused on the screen as he watched an episode of a reality dating show he'd become fond of.  ‘Engaged in 20 days!’  In the next episode he'd find out if Amelia would stay with Big Ted or finally dump his ass! He sipped on a mug of hot blood as the theme for the show began. Suddenly Winnie and Becca shimmied in front of the TV, dragging the fake tree across the room. 

“Excuse me!? You're blocking my view! I have been waiting weeks to see if Amelia finally abandons this buffoon!” The pale elf huffed. 

“She's just going to get back together with him, Star. Just like she did last time.” Becca replied as she and Winnie pulled the TV past the tree. The two of them struggled to lift the fake vegetation off the ground. Astarion glanced over at them and rolled his eyes.

“We got the stuff, let's fucking gooooo!” Karlach suddenly bursts through the door carrying two massive boxes of decorations while Vanessa, Winnie's stepsister, rides on her back.  

Becca turns to see Karlach, her heart skipping a beat as she sees the fiery woman. The red head momentarily lets go of the tree, causing its weight to fall over on Winnie.

“FUCK!” Winnie shouted as the tree smothered her. Maddie let out a concerned meow and hopped off the couch.

“Gods’ below.” Astarion rolled his eyes before conjuring a mage hand. The blue clawed hand floated over and grabbed hold of the tree, lifting it up and off of Winnie. “What in the hells are you four even doing?” 

“Nessa said some fat man is going to break into the house and leave us presents!” Karlach exclaimed.

“Pardon?” Astarion blinked in complete and utter confusion.

“We're decorating for Christmas. It's a holiday.” Winnie said as she pushed the tree into place. 

“You have a holiday where some vagabond invades your home?” Astarion asked with a questioning expression as he stood up.

“Santa isn't a vagabana!” Nessa intervened, “He's jolly old saint Nick! Bringing presents to all the good girls and boys!  Every Christmas Eve Santa Claus flies through the sky with his magic sleigh and delivers presents to all the good children of the world!” The tween crossed her arms as she looked up at the vampire in disapproval. 

“Sounds like a load of hogwash.” Astarion scoffed, “why would anyone give away presents for free? Ridiculous.” 

“It is not!” Nessa huffed, glaring at Astarion before sticking out her tongue at him. Astarion mockingly mimicked her antics before being tugged off into the hallway by Winnie.

“Christmas is a gift giving holiday about spending time with friends and family.” She sighed, “ and parents give gifts to their children…and tell them they're from a magic man from the North Pole.” 

“A holiday where you lie to children!?” Astarion put his hand over his chest with a dramatic gasp before smirking, “well I'm starting to like it more by the minute. Ahaha!” 

“SHHHH. Be quiet. I swear to God Astarion if you say a fucking thing to Vanessa I will END you.” Winnie glared at him darkly. 

“Mmm….You know, you're so delicious when you look at me like that~” Astarion purred, taking Winnie's hand and kissing it.  

“Don't  try to distract me.” Winnie pushed his hand away. “I am serious. I do NOT want you ruining Christmas for Nessa.” Astarion let out a long sigh.

“Fiiiine, I'll keep this juicy bit of information to myself but I better be well compensated for my silence.” Astarion purred as he took Winnie's chin between his fingers before pecking her nose. 

“I got you plenty of Christmas presents.” Winnie told him. 

“Well that's a start.” Astarion smirked, eyes full of mischief.

“What else do you want?” The brunette rolled her eyes. 

“You are to sit in my lap and cuddle me while we watch Engaged in 20 days.” Astarion gave Winnie a smug grin. 

“Ugh fine.” Winnie agreed, causing the vampire to let out a giddy chuckle.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The house was filled with cheerful noise and the delicious aroma of baked cookies as the gang set up the decorations. Hanging stalking over the fireplace, lights all over every nook and cranny, a couple of mistletoe were set in a couple of spots here and there, and Maddie was even given a Santa hat to wear as she prowled around the house. 

“Ah…Um…K-Karlach?” Becca twiddled her thumbs as she stood under the mistletoe. The red head was dressed in a red in green sweater with a cute big-eyed deer on the front. The tiefling looked over from where she stood in the kitchen helping Nessa hang up tinsel. 

“Yeah?” Karlach looked back towards the red head with a slight smile. “You need something Beck?”

“I-I uh…” Becca looked around and then glanced at Winnie who gave her a thumbs up and a smile. “Karlach I….” The redhead looked up at the mistletoe with a deep rosy blush adorning her cheeks. She wanted desperately to ask Karlack to step under it with her, but the words refused to leave her lips.

“COOKIES ARE DONE!!!!!” Vanessa sang as she took out a plate of chocolate chip sweets in the shape of gingerbread men. 

“FUCK YES! LET'S EAT!!!” The tiefling hollered, turning away from Becca and running over to the kitchen table as her tail wagged.

Becca let out a dejected sigh before following the others to the kitchen. Winnie was already there munching on a cookie as Astarion stood behind her with his thermos full of blood. 

Later they all curled up on the sofa together, Winnie snuggled on Astarion's lap, Vanessa was sitting on Karlach’s while Becca awkwardly sat between them. They watched some Christmas classics while Vanessa attempted to educate Karlach and Astarion all about Christmas traditions.  Everything went peacefully up until around 11:51 while everyone was cozy  and tucked into bed. Astarion and Winnie were cuddled up in the basement bed with Madde sleeping by their feet. Astarion was wrapped around Winnie's plump form, his nose nuzzling into her neck when suddenly his ears began to twitch.

His sensitive vampiric hearing had detected the sound of floorboards creaking under heavy footsteps. Slowly he blinked his red eyes open with a yawn. 

“Mew?” Maddie let out a soft sleepy meow as her feline ears perked up at the noise. She hopped off the bed and padded over to the stairs in curiosity. Astarion at first assumed Karlach was just getting some sweets in the middle of the night until suddenly an unfamiliar scent hit his nose.  Carefully and quietly he slipped out of bed and snuck upstairs to investigate the scene. Within the living room he saw a large man, setting down a bag on the floor. An intruder? Here to steal their valuables no doubt!

Astarion bared his fangs, his eyes starting to glow red as he crept up on the unfamiliar man before pouncing on him. Astarion lunged onto his back and sank his fangs into the man's thick meaty neck. The man let out a deep shout as Astarion began to drink his incredibly sweet tasting blood. 

“Christ Almighty get this beast off of me!!!” The man’s baritone voice bellowed, his shouts echoing all throughout the house. Footsteps suddenly came running up and down the stairs.

“Astarion! You're killing Santa!” Vanessa screamed. Nessa and everyone else in the house came running. Astarion had been biting what appeared to be a fat old man in a bright red suit.

“Astarion! Drop it!” Winnie shouted, causing the vampire to let go of the man and take a step back, huffing as he licked the blood from his mouth. The man fell onto the ground, holding his bleeding neck in pain.

“Oh my God I am so sorry!” Winnie said as she looked the man over in confusion. Why was a man in a Santa suit breaking into her house? 

Was he drunk? A friend of Becca's pulling a prank maybe?

Unless…? No it couldn't be. Santa Claus wasn't real! 

“Wyn, I think we should call the police…This guy just broke into the house!” Becca piped up.

“No!! You can't call the cops on Santa!” Nessa said before standing between them and the bleeding stranger. Winnie reached into her pocket for her phone before suddenly they heard the sounds of something heavy moving across the roof followed by loud snorting sounds. Karlach quickly looked out the window, her eyes widening in shock.   

“Uh…Guys you might wanna see this?”  The tiefling called.  The group ran over to the window to see a sleigh pulled by eight not-so-tiny reindeer sitting in the backyard. 

“No fucking way. “ Winnie gasped in shock, “my parents told me he wasn't real..How what!?” The brunette blinked in confusion.

“Well considering we now live with a half devil and a vampire is this really so surprising?” Becca asked.  Vanessa quickly grabbed a first aid kit from the kitchen and immediately put a bandage on Santa's neck. 

“WHY AREN'T ANY OF YOU HELPING HIM!!” The twelve year old shouted. 

“Shit.” Winnie cursed and went to help Nessa while Becca ran to get some cookies and apple juice.

“Look, I thought he was breaking into the house.” Astarion exclaimed.

“So your first thought is to eat him?” Karlach raised an eyebrow.

“I'm a vampire. I drink blood. I don't think of all the little details before acting okay!” Astarion crossed his arms.

“Good heavens.” Suddenly Saint Nick piped up as Vanessa helped him up onto the couch. “I knew I was right about keeping you on the naughty list Astarion. Even with Winnifred’s influence you're still a menace!” The old man pointed at the vampire with a stern gaze, shaking his finger.

“Oh, I do try my best.” Astarion said with a smug smirk as he glanced down at his pretty red nails. 

“Are you okay Santa? How are you feeling?” Nessa asked with a worried frown.   

“I will survive, but I'm not sure if this Christmas will. I'm too weak to make the rest of the trip.” He stood up slowly before immediately falling back down in his chair.

“A pity. Ah, well best the little tykes get used to disappointment early.” Astarion twirled a finger in his curls before beginning to turn around. 

“N-No! We can't cancel Christmas! W-We can't!” Nessa began to tear up. 

“Astarion we have to do something!” Karlach exclaimed, grabbing hold of the vampire before he could walk away.

“Oh no! I am not going galavanting around for some jolly old fool!” Astarion crossed his arms and attempted to walk away as Karlach held him in place.

“Come on Astarion. You owe him! You did take a bite out of his throat!” Becca exclaimed, before glancing over to Karlach who then proceeded to pick Astarion up and throw him over her shoulders.

“PUT ME DOWN DAMN YOU!” The vampire hissed like an angry cat, kicking his legs in protest.

“Well, this is definitely not what I imagined I'd be doing tonight. Although I have always wanted to save Christmas with a vampire. “ Winnie muttered around as Santa weakly tossed over his sack and list with a pained groan. Winnie examined it with a him before getting her coat and boots on.

“We ready to do this soldier?” Karlach asked.

“I think so. This list has some crazy magic coursing through it so I don't really think we need to worry about the details.”  Winnie said as she showed them the glowing gold piece of paper. Astarion was still pouting as Karlach held him over her shoulder. “Nessa, you and Becca stay here and watch over Santa! We'll be back! …I hope…”

“Please be careful!” Vanessa called as the trio went outside. Winnie slowly approached one of the massive deer who turned and sniffed at her as she got close. 

“Hello there-” Winnie began to say before feeling a long tongue swipe over her face followed by what sounded like playful snorts from the animal. She couldn't help but giggle and pet it on the nose. Karlach quickly tossed Santa’s sack along with Astarion into the sleigh. 

“C'mon mate, let's go!” Karlach cheered as she climbed in after the vampire. Winnie nodded before getting into the sleigh with the list. She looked down at the reins with curiosity before grabbing them.

“Ah….Yip yip?” She said aloud causing the reindeer to quickly begin to take off, running across the yard before leaping upwards into the sky. Karlach wagged her tail and hollered in excitement while Astarion clung to Winnie, his nails digging into her coat.

Our trio flew from house to house, dropping presents to every single person they saw on the list. The bag seemed to do most of the work itself, spitting out presents for each name they came across, never once mixing them up. 

One of the more shocking stops on their ride ended up when they had to deliver a pound of coal to a certain devil they knew who had currently set up shop within a penthouse apartment in the city. They were in and out without a moment to spare, quickly continuing on their way to save Christmas by a hair.

Eventually once the night was over and they'd emptied Santa's bag. The three returned home to find Vanessa and Becca with gifts galore, all apparently left by the fat man they'd picked up off their floor.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Tagging Santa's Elves:

@seradyn , @plimsim , @astarioffsimpmain , @marcynomercy , @iamsexytrash , @gaymistakeboi , @divineknightmare , @tinyfreakgirl , @misscrissfemmefatal, @gianchan-de @jaksfanficsaver , @the-disaster-in-waiting , @hp-art-studio , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @dajeong , @iamnotokei , @the-pale-elfs-love , @geminipridekitty , @just-a-refrigerator , @vixstarria , @ellaprime7, @beewilko , @paganwitchisis , @tragedybunny

[emy-san]

Present ❤️ 🎁