#bg3 long fic

[beepersteeper]

Masterlist

If anyone wants added to the tag list to any of all of my upcoming fics let me know ❤️

Long fic

I Will Always Find You- Astarion and Tav live happily together for the remaining years she has, she refuses to be turned into a vampire because her faith says that her soul isn’t finished with its work yet. Tav dies of old age and leaves Astarion to put together the pieces of his broken heart.

I Promise

The First Day

Comparing Notes

The Night is Young

The Talk

There's no Arguing With that

Vulnerability

Not Made of Glass- Smut

One Day maybe

Meeting a Friend

Full of Surprises

Oneshots

Smut

Depravity- Tav and Astarion steal away for a moment alone together.

Enough is Enough- Tav gets caught playing hard to get.

Digits- Astarion gives Tav exactly what she wants.

Dirty- Tav gets Lovitar's blessing and almost bites off more than she can chew.

A Love Dream - Continued- A continuation from This Fic. In which Lúthien and Astarion tiptoe on the razor edge of love but are both too bogged down with their own baggage to truly see what is in front of their noses. This continuation watches them release their inhibitions and start what I hope is the beginning of a wonderful journey of healing and love together

Fluff

Worth- Astarion's nice simple plan starts to fall apart.

Bedside Manner- Tav gets hurt in battle. Astarion tends to her wounds and admits how he actually feels.

Mirror- Tav tells Astarion exactly how other people see him.

Plans- Tav takes it upon herself to take care of Cazador.

Drawing- Astarion sees his face when Tav doodles.

[amandacanwrite]

Violet Thread of Fate || Part Twelve : The Weave

Other Chapters || Join Taglist || Requests Open || Subscribe on AO3

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios. Briar Larklight (Gender Neutral Tav) x Halsin

Length || 4,300-ish Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years.) Description of scarring from corporal punishment. Mature themes. Shared memories of neglect and abuse. Descriptions of kissing.

A/N|| Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. If anyone has played BG3 you guys probably know what's about to come from Gale's side of the lanceboard, hohoho.

Comments and screaming reblogs are always appreciated, they let me know people are actually reading and enjoying these silly little stories I'm throwing together. No pressure, of course--Just know when you do I'm kicking my feet and giggling at each and every one! I hope the upcoming labor day (if you're in the US) treats you well.

Hopefully I will have another chapter for you very soon.

Taglist || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette

@drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope

@auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays

@nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic @listen-to-navi@spillthetaesissy

@sammywasnthere

@vermililion @weaponizedvirtue @leucineinthesky

Elinna sniffed, wiping an unwanted tear away from her face. 

She hated that her body responded to anger with tears. It was this very thing that prevented her from ever being taken seriously at The Nest, and now it was preventing her from even having a say with her traveling companions. 

She wished he had more to pack. The truth was, she didn’t want to go to the Underdark alone. She didn’t want to separate from Gale or the others.  

While she felt foolish for so immediately changing tune after promising Gale that she didn’t mind if her locket was ruined; that she wouldn’t mind if she never met her mother. Could she really be blamed for it? 

She picked up her bag and hitched it onto her shoulders, turning to leave the room. 

As she did, the door opened and Gale appeared. 

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms–blocking her exit. He inclined his head besetting her with a sort of…warning look, one a teacher might give an overstepping student; his lips quirked to the side and his thick brows rose, creasing his brow in such a way that it betrayed his age. 

The reminder of that disparity between them twisted uncomfortably in her gut for some reason she couldn’t name. Or perhaps preferred not to name.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Elinna said, hating how her voice warbled. 

“I’m not here to stop you–” Gale said. “Well, I am; but not from going to the Underdark. I’m trying to stop you from leaving now.”

“I told you, I’m not going to risk waiting longer–”

“You are fantastically stubborn, do you know that?” He said. 

“I don’t–” Elinna started.

“Elinna!” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Would you please listen?”

Elinna bit down on her lower lip, looking properly chastened. Silence fell between them for a few long moments.

Gale sighed and stepped off from where he leaned on the door, closing the small distance between them with two steps. 

Elinna could feel the warmth of his body as he lingered in front of her, his head still dropping and enabling him to keep his gaze on her. She felt warmth creeping up her nape as he looked at her and found herself unable to meet his warm chestnut gaze, feeling like she might drown in it if she risked it. 

“Will you come with me for a walk?” He asked. “I want to talk to you. Preferably away from three traveling companions with abnormally keen hearing.”

She finally took a hesitant look up at him, and found his full lips curved in a patient smile. 

“It has been…let’s see–five days since I’ve had the pleasure of your conversation,” he said. “I’d like to remedy that, if you’d allow it.

“You don’t have to pretend to enjoy my prattling,” Elinna said, dropping her gaze once more. “I know you indulge me at best.”

“Where did this sullenness come from? Not an hour ago you were telling me that I was your present,” he teased. “I thought I was one of the few who cared. Has your opinion of me changed so quickly?”

She felt her face warm more, this time paired with guilt for her sudden turn of attitude. 

Elinna’s eyes burned again and another tear fell onto her face. 

Gale clicked his tongue and lifted his calloused hand, swiping the wetness away with the pad of his thumb. She looked up at him again, green eyes meeting his own and not looking away for once. 

“No more of that, please,” he said, his voice low, his eyes full of…something. “I still owe you a proper apology for the day I was terrible to you. Unfortunately you have been very unconscious. So please. A walk.”

Elinna took a deep breath, thinking it through. She didn’t need to think for very long at all. She slid her pack off of her shoulders and gave it a toss onto her still-unmade bed. She couldn’t tell for sure, but she thought Gale heaved a sigh of relief. 

He offered her his bent arm, just as he had when he’d introduced her to Halsin, Briar and Astarion. Part of her wanted to read into the gesture; she’d seen the well-to-do boys in Moonshae walk like that with the young ladies they courted. She remembered wishing a boy would offer her an arm like that. 

The boys in the tavern only ever offered her a night in their beds; and that was if they were the polite ones. Now a fully grown man stood in front of her, offering her this small intimacy that she had pined for, in secret, for years. 

She wondered if Gale knew what he was doing to her poor heart. Perhaps he just thought that it was obvious that he would never take an interest in her; at least not romantically. Whatever the case, it was the sweetest sort of torture to wonder what thoughts went through his head; if he carried the same sort of interest in her as she did in him.

She slipped her hand onto the crook of his arm and he smiled wider, a flash of perfect teeth showing. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, close your eyes for just a moment.”

“Why?” Elinna asked. 

“Because I said so,” he teased, lifting his free hand and giving her a playful flick on her nose. “Close them.”

Elinna finally snorted a laugh, rubbing the affronted spot. She acquiessed, closing her eyes, though she had a hard time hiding the smile that threatened to make a home on her lips.

“That’s better,” he said warmly.  

Elinna felt a sort of building of energy; a bit of a buzzing crackle in the air that made it taste a little stale; smell like the wind before a crack of lightning struck.

And then the faint brush of a breeze through the loose, curling tendrils of her hair. 

“Open them, if you like,” Gale said. 

Her eyes fluttered open and she found herself standing beside Gale. A silvery pond slept nearby, seemingly fed by a babbling brook that had burst through the ground from a spring somewhere below. They were all shaded by the blue-green branches of willow trees, swaying in the wind as Elinna’s hair had. Lily pads peppered the pond, and once in a while, a fish would break the surface of the water to snatch some unseen insect or speck of algae floating above it.

Beneath their feet, a dirt path that led through the trunks of the willows, inviting them to continue on. She looked up at Gale and he gestured ahead with his free hand. “Shall we?”

Elinna nodded and they began to walk. 

“Your absence gave me much to think about, Elinna,” he said. 

“It must have given you the chance to hear your own thoughts,” she mumbled under her breath. 

“Stop that,” he said, bumping her wish his shoulder. “Self-doubt is almost as unbecoming on you as it is on me.”

Is that what this was? Self doubt?

Now that he’d given the feeling a name, she supposed that was exactly what it was. 

“You don’t think I can hold my own,” Elinna said by way of explaining her moping. “None of you do.”

“Objectively, you can’t–” he started. 

“So then can you blame me?” She interrupted. 

“No–I don’t blame you, and that was the point I was trying to get to, if you’d give me the chance,” he said. “You were right, down at that table–when you said that no one was giving you the help you needed to hold your own. And perhaps most right in that regard when it came to my own contributions.”

“You don’t have an interest in acting as a mentor to me–if anything has become clear to me since we started our…alliance…it’s that,” she said. 

“The reasons for my not taking on apprentices are complex, Elinna,” he said. “But they become even more complex when it comes to your tutelage, specifically.”

“Why?” she asked. 

“Because the dynamic between a master and an apprentice is one with a power imbalance. In particular, it would put me in the position of your superior,” he said. “And I…find myself not wanting to impose such a power imbalance on my relationship with you. I would rather have you as an equal, if I’m honest.”

Elinna’s expression fell, her head glancing askance as she tried not to let Gale see it. Her thoughts started tangling into a mess of disappointment and self-pity. If only he realized that in spite of what he wished when it came to the dynamic between them, he would always be her superior. He would always be unreachable to her, in more ways than one–in more ways than he could ever truly know.

“But,” he continued. “There is nothing to say that I can’t teach an equal magic that they don’t know.”

Elinna’s mind came to a screeching halt as she whipped her head to look up at Gale again. He was already looking sidelong down at her, his eyes narrowed knowingly, his lips tugged up into a bit of a cheeky smirk. 

“Y-you–you–” Elinna stammered. 

“Yes?” Gale said, sounding all too pleased with her speechlessness.

“I–” Elinna started once more, huffing out a breath. “Well–”

“I do so love when I get to render someone speechless, especially one so talkative as you,” Gale said. “Take it slowly, Elinna–”

“You…” Elinna said, her voice becoming heavy, forcing herself to form a sentence. “You are a bastard.”

Gale gaped, expression aghast. “Excuse me?!” he retorted. “I offer to teach you magic and you call me, of all things, a bastard?!”

“You knew exactly what you were doing–”

“I was giving you good news with a bit of dramatic timing,” he said. “ Have you never heard of a surprise?! Elminster’s growling gut–I didn’t even know you were capable of language like that!”

“I spent all of my free time singing for coin in taverns! Of course I’m capable of such language!” Elinna said. “You were playing with my emotions! And that makes you a bastard!”

“Elinna, I am going to teach you magic. Can we stay on topic, please?” Gale said, a curve to his lips despite the sudden onset of an argument. “We can continue the debate on whether or not I am a bastard after your first lesson!”

“I hasten to point out that you were the one who got us so off topic,” Elinna said. 

“Elinna,” he said. “Focus.”

Elinna pressed her lips together, not wanting to reward him with a smile–not when it would make him feel so pleased with himself all over again. All the same, she couldn’t help that her own lips started to curve. 

“Are you going to teach me my first lesson now?” She asked, her voice quiet and even a bit conspiritorial as she lifted her thumb to bite at its nail in nervous excitement. 

“Why else would I have brought you out here if not to guard against the slight possibility that you might set something on fire?” Gale said warmly. “Only if you feel up to it, of course. You just woke up and you haven’t eaten yet.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more energized for something in my life,” Elinna said. 

“I had an idea that would be the case,” Gale said, smirking again. 

They walked for just a little while longer, the babbling brook acting as a companion as they traveled. The clearing Gale promised came into view, a large circular space with a craggy floor of dense packed clay and slabs of stone. More willows stretched upward toward the sky above them, the long branches seemingly trimmed in preparation for this lesson. 

“We have four of the five elements in this space,” Gale said, “making it a great place for us to conjure the weave.”

“Earth, water, air…” Elinna said. “Where is the fire?”

“The fourth we have is spirit,” Gale corrected. “As for the fire…”

Gale held his free hand up, conjuring a small ball of flame before letting it float to a small pile of willow branches and setting it ablaze. 

“There we are,” he said. “Now, we’re going to start with something basic–something even more basic than the cantrips you know. You’re simply going to learn to conjure the weave and to hold onto it. I will be acting as a conduit, but only enough to make it more tangible for you. What you accomplish here today, it is your magic to be proud of.”

“Alright,” Elinna said with a nod, her chest tight with anticipation. 

“So, what do you know about the weave, Elinna?” Gale asked. “Run me through it.”

“From my reading…” Elinna said. “It’s the essence of Mystra herself, and it runs through everything on our material plane. Through its pathways magic travels to those who would use it.”

“Excellent,” Gale said with a proud smile. “Could not have said it better myself.”

Elinna’s heart fluttered with Gale’s praise. 

“Now–the times I have done this with others; with people who weren’t hoping to master the use of the weave, I’ve made it easy for them. But I’m going to challenge you, Elinna. I’ll challenge you as I was challenged by Elminster as a youth. You may find yourself frustrated, but hold fast. Believe in yourself as I believe in you,” Gale said. 

“Do you?” Elinna asked. “Believe in me?”

Gale’s eyebrows quirked up. “How could you even ask me something like that?”

Elinna exhaled softly. “‘Equals?’” She quoted from their argument before Astarion had taken her as his captive. “‘Of all the delusions…’”

Gale grimaced. 

“Elinna…” he said, stepping forward and lifting one of his hands into hers. “I was so abhorrent to you a few days ago. I haven’t had an opportunity to properly apologize yet. I am sorry for the things that I said. I know I’m not able to take it back, but I hope you trust me enough to believe me when I say I didn’t mean a word of what I said when I was so cruelly disparaging your character.” He sighed. “You have been the most pleasant surprise in my life so far, and I wish I could show you how deeply I regretted what I did–I wish you could have borne witness to my contrition while you recovered.”

The apology was...overwhelming…for Elinna. She merely wanted a confirmation that he truly meant what he’d said when he’d said he believed in her. Instead he’d given her the apology equivalent of a love confession. Or perhaps…that was merely wishful thinking. 

Gale was always so grandiose–seemingly in everything–perhaps she shouldn’t read into the linking of their arms; the brushing away of her tears; the way his hand now cradled her own. 

“I believe in you, Elinna,” he said. “Implicitly, completely. If there is anyone who has a passion for magic that perhaps rivals my own, it’s you.”

Elinna swallowed and forced herself to nod, wondering how her focus would manifest now that she was fighting the urge to swoon with his high opinion of her. 

“Now,” Gale said, releasing her hand and taking a few steps back from her. “The weave is exactly what it sounds like–as you said, its threads run through every facet of our reality. As magic users, we pluck and pull at the threads and, by extension, alter the tapestry of that reality.”

Elinna nodded. 

“We do this through casting gestures.” Gale lifted his hands and moved them just so, causing a brief spark to materialize. “And through invocations–such as your unfortunate use of misty step upon our first meeting.”

“You didn’t use an invocation to teleport us here,” she pointed out. 

“That was going to be my next point, actually,” he said. “Once a wizard or sorceress is learned enough, they can use the weave without any such aids. But for you, as a novice, they will help you remain focused on the spell you’re attempting to cast.”

“For simply touching the weave, you only need one casting gesture,” Gale said as he lifted his hand and placed it over his chest. “Place your hands over your heart.”

Elinna nodded, lifting her gloved fingers to her chest and pressing them to the spot over her heart. 

“Focus on the way your heart feels in your chest, how it feels…how it feels like it contains your own essence in the same way the weave contain’s Mystra’s essence. Feel how it connects you to everything around you; how it connects you to Halsin and Briar. How it connects you to Astarion. How it connects you even to me…”

Elinna closed her eyes, lest his words encourage her to look at him directly and render her distracted. She followed his instructions, thinking about the threads that bound up her own fate with that of her traveling companions. How even the vampire that nearly got her killed was now somehow their ally. 

She thought of the moments she’d shared with Gale in privacy, and how even after only a few short days, she found herself utterly and unerringly loyal to him. 

“Fantastic work,” Gale said, his voice so quiet that she could hear the movement of his tongue in the seat of his mouth. “You’re wrapping the weave around your fingers now, you may not be able to sense it yet, but I can see it.”

“Mm,” Elinna said, wanting to acknowledge his words, but not wanting to lose the focus she’d cultivated. 

“Now, I want you to imagine those threads as lines on a piece of parchment–think of when you first learned to write. I know that memory is one that is likely fraught with pain for you, but focus on what it enabled you to do–what it enabled you to learn on those late nights up in The Nest. With your heart, with your essence, you’re going to write on those lines–only you will write with your voice rather than a pen,” he said. 

“Alright,” she said. 

“Repeat after me: ‘Ah-Thran, Mystra-ryl, Kantrach Ao,” he said. 

In her mind’s eye, she imagined it. The threads of weave stretching out into the stars as three violet, shimmering lines, such as on a child’s notebook. She imagined her voice as the quill which etched out the words in careful script. 

“Ahthran, Mystraryl, Kantrach Ao,” she repeated, the words seeming to resonate and echo in her own ears; seeming to vibrate in her chest. 

The smell of…lilacs and sweet, honeyed wine filled her nostrils. She felt at peace as she stood there with her hands still touching her heart. It was the sensation of being flirted with for the first time by someone who she thought of as beautiful. It was the first time she lay in bed with a book she simply couldn’t put down, finding joy in the story in lieu of getting a restful sleep. It was the way Gale’s thumb felt against the sweep of her cheekbone when he wiped away her errant tear. 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Gale said, his voice so close and quiet now that she could almost feel his breath against the pointed shell of her ear. Her arms beneath her waistcoat prickled with gooseflesh, she felt almost as if she awaited a kiss.  “There is only one thing remaining. You must picture in your mind the image of perfect harmony, whatever that might be to you.”

Elinna felt as if she had almost entered a trance state. There were no thoughts floating in her mind–only feelings and images and finally, the melody of a song. 

To her knowledge, it was not a song she had heard before, and yet she knew the words as if they had been penned onto her very heart. Her voice sounded before she could stop it, and the song flowed out of her, channeled from her soul as she used it to channel the weave. 

Sleep little one under moon's soft light

Stars will watch you through the night

Though I must part the sky's gentle gleam

Will keep you safe in a tender dream

Under the moon and stars so bright

You’ll feel my love through the lonesome night

Though we're apart, my love will stay

In every star’s light, till the break of day

Close your eyes, let night wind sing

Of the peace the familiar dark can bring

Though I'm away my love is near

In every star you'll find me, dear

Elinna was grateful for her eyes being closed as she finished the sorrowful lullaby that bubbled to her lips in her state. She didn’t know exactly why, but she found herself wanting to cry. She wondered if she’d heard it in a drink-addled state from one of the more sullen bards that frequented the inns she used to go to in hopes of earning a few coins. 

She didn’t have long to think about it before she heard Gale’s soft voice just beside her though. 

“Elinna,” he said, his voice quiet with awe. “You’ve done it.”

Her amber lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes to a breathtaking sight. 

Her hands dropped at her sides as she found herself standing beside Gale in an orb of perfect, starlit darkness.

She looked down at her boots, the clay ground having given way to inky, violet night sky. Silvery stars blinked around her, and as she lifted one of her fingers to touch one of them, it flew across the sky she had conjured, breaking into a breathtaking cascade of smaller stars. 

The stars coalesced to form the shape of a moth, and the creature fluttered to Gale’s awaiting open hand. 

“Incredible,” he said in a whisper. “Elinna, I think you may be an unwitting sorceress.”

“Really?” Elinna asked. “I thought most of this came from you.”

He looked at her, and the way that his eyes sparkled as they crinkled with mirth took her breath away. “No,” he said. “I may have wrangled a thread here or there, but this illusion you’ve conjured…that was all you. You can feel it, can’t you?”

She could, she realized. The harmony she envisioned with the song that materialized from somewhere inside of her had expanded to encompass every part of her. Every cell, every thought. There was a sweet taste on the tip of her tongue; like the subtle, sweet tang of bee pollen. Her heart swelled with affection–several different kinds of affection, in fact. The care you feel for a small animal when it looks at you with wide, marble-like eyes. The intimacy of a close friendship–like the one she had with Gale. 

There was the awe of seeing something entirely new and unexpected. The excitement of a new experience. And underneath all of it was something altogether new for her. 

The pleasant feeling of new love. Or perhaps what she thought new love might feel like. 

At the same time she identified it, she saw Gale’s chest expand with a deep, steadying breath. His eyes searched hers, and for once she didn’t find herself shying away from it. 

No, in fact, she found herself emboldened by the rush of power and pride flooding her veins. She let her eyes fall to his lips and, for once, let herself freely imagine just what she might like to do with them–where she would like to feel them. 

She imagined, if only for a moment, what it might feel like for Gale to brush not only his thumb against the crest of her cheekbone, but what it must feel like to have his calloused hand cup the side of her face. She imagined how clumsy her lips might feel to him, being the practiced older man that he was. How he might show her just how lips were meant to mingle and enmesh when it was done correctly; just as he taught her to pluck the strings of the weave. 

She was lost in the image for a long time, almost feeling the slick sensation of his tongue tracing her lower lip, begging for entry. The taste of his afternoon tea on his tongue. The taste of moonlight on her own throat as he lapped the spot where her neck met her jaw. 

Gale cleared his throat, and her eyes snapped back to his. 

“How do you feel?” he asked her. 

“Incredible,” she breathed, echoing his earlier sentiment, though she didn’t quite notice just how sensual her voice sounded. 

And then, just as quickly as it came, the illusion flickered and vanished. 

Her knees buckled and Gale caught her, arms supporting her weight with ease. 

“Careful, Elinna,” Gale gasped as he adjusted her in his arms, albeit a bit clumsily. “Are you alright?”

Elinna blinked, the warm, comfortable feeling dissipating and leaving her feeling…cold….and lonesome. 

“W-what happened?” she asked. “Where did it go?”

“You released it…” Gale said, examining her face. “And you’re looking a mite pale, as well.”

Her stomach let out an embarrassing sound, like a dog grumbling. 

“Ah,” he said, “Well, that would certainly explain it. Perhaps we shouldn’t have attempted this on an empty stomach after all. Forgive me, as much as I believed in your abilities, I didn’t expect you to conjure something quite so advanced. I’m sure it burned through whatever reserves of energy you had left.”

She gave him a bittersweet smile and nodded. “I told you you shouldn’t underestimate me,” she teased. 

“And when did you say that?” Gale said, his voice warmly amused. 

“Mmn,” she said as she got back onto her feet. “Maybe I didn’t. But consider yourself properly warned now.”

Gale chuckled. “Oh, I very well do,” he said. “Come Elinna, let’s get you back to the inn and fill that belly of yours.”

Elinna gave an airy, almost silly little laugh. “Very well,” she said. 

She couldn’t wait to tell the others the good news. 

She was a sorceress!

[yangcherie]

bathing.

𐀔 pairings: cast (astarion, gale, wyll, lae’zel, shadowheart, karlach, halsin) x female!tiefling!tav (reader).

𐀔 content warnings: suggestive, everybody is a little freak, non-consensual voyeurism, implied scent kink (gale), mentions of scars, afab anatomy. tiefling anatomy.

𐀔 sypnosis: what is a warrior to do when all their companions are peeping toms?

𐀔 author’s note: they are freaks and its been very long since i’ve written. please forgive a lady if what she’s written is unappealing.

“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”

Astarion whisper-yells at the entire party of people hiding within bushes and treelines, all fighting tooth and nail like rabid animals for a peek (and taste) of their ragtag, frustratingly attractive leader’s curves.

They didn’t even mean to stumble into eachother, each to their own blindly traversing through the thickets of the woods towards the nearest river. Tav simply mentioned having to retire early to take a bath (much to Gale’s dismay), and they all hungrily jumped towards the opportunity like dogs to a meatless bone, the one of the hopefully many chances they’ll see you naked, vulnerable, and shivering – even if it’s only due to the lack of warmth in the river’s streams.

It’s wrong, debauched, even. Hells, even literal devils, Karlach and Wyll, wear faces ridden with shame. Of course, they (namely Astarion and Lae’zel) poked at the others stalking as if they weren’t shamelessly doing the same.

The tension in the air was thick, each a barrel on the verge of explosion ready to wipe out the recently discovered possibility of rivalries and competition – but they couldn’t blame eachother; there was just something about you that made you so very enticing. They all thought it was incredibly silly to think only one person would want you.

“Well,” Astarion clicked his tongue in displeasure, having his private time foiled. Still, he smiled sardonically. “we’re all degenerates, it seems. We’re all looking forward to having a... fun time.”

A deep rumble came, and it surprisingly did not come from the forest ground. It was simply Halsin, all too polite and calm smiles. Astarion groaned; he was sick of this big fucking oaf with hearts for eyes and a log of wood for brains. “We are not depraved for simply yearning to admire our friend in a state of tranquil—”

“Oh, please! Don’t act like a saint in front of me!” The vampire spawn huffed, hands on his hips. “We’re all here for the same reason, we all want to see Tav fucking naked, no point in lying now!”

Tints of red and pink all rushed to everyone’s faces, and even Shadowheart was reduced to fiddling with her fingers together. Though awkward coughs ensued in the air, not a single word of denial was uttered.

Karlach is first to speak up, ever brazen. “It’s true!” She says with her signature sharp smile. “I wanted to see her tits!”

(Lae’zel and Astarion nodded approvingly to Karlach’s honesty. Halsin and Gale quietly shared their sentiments on their preference to your ass. Shadowheart and Wyll could not disagree to both.)

Amidst their busy conversation and debate regarding your body’s fine qualities, the alarmingly close and approaching noises of branches snapping and leaves crunching had rendered them silent, panicked shivers and goosebumps on their skin. With shared glances and only a few split seconds to react, the party floundered and flailed for whatever they could use to stay hidden.

“Settle down, you circus; Tav’s coming!” Wyll is the first amongst the party to silently and comically dive into a bush with Karlach, clutching their tails to avoid it rustling about in excitement. Halsin had thrown Gale and Astarion atop a tree’s thick branches before joining them. Lae’zel, disappointingly, camoflauges just well with the greenery, watching Shadowheart flounder about and settle for lying on the ground with grass over her face.

“All you filthy ska'keth.” Lae’zel hisses, letting everyone know of your now visible presence, the halting of your footsteps along the other edge of the river. “Enjoy the show.”

Across the distance, their focus had been shifted to you and now solely you.

You quietly groan, trudging towards the river you’ve been searching to no end, you set down your basket of fine oils, herbs and waxes as your armored limbs ache and practically cry for a dip in the clear stream. With no haste, you take in the cool night air, this little moment of peace, away from prying eyes you’ve fought long and hard to obtain. Sweat trickles down your throat, your tail swaying in contentment in the calm atmosphere.

Quickly deciding you’ve had enough of the crisp air, you reach towards your body to unclasp and unfasten the many buckles on your durable armor – starting with the iron top, quickly taking it off to reveal your bare, battle-worn chest and hastily discarding the metal on your legs, throwing them aside in favor of letting the cold air bite at your naked, scarred body before you go into the water; allowing your body a little moment of respite from the suffocation and heat of tight, bloody armor – even letting your tail sway around freely instead of being constricted to being stiff. A content smile creeps its way onto your face.

You lightly step your way from the sand to the edge of the water, continuing to walk until you’re trembling from the cold, until you’re hips-down in the water. A grateful sigh is pulled from your lips as you start to wade about, your hands subtly working to wash the dried blood, gore and grime off of your body and hair – using the oils and wax soaps of sweet woodruff and wine from your basket, even scrubbing your horns. A little part of you finds this normalcy almost unfamiliar, uncomfortable; it’s been quite a while you’ve taken care of yourself. Your thoughts start to drift; prior to your abduction by the Nautiloid ship, were you ever taken care of, like this? By other hands, even?

(You hope so.)

Another sigh is dragged out of you, though wearier as guilt treads within you. Just a little moment of peace, of indulgence before you go back to the dreadful task of keeping your companions and yourself alive and fighting. Just a little more time. You think you deserve it.

A silence was washed over the forest, and the party as they all beheld you and your battle-worn body. It felt almost sacred, like doing this would have them damned to the Hells and below but it was simply too captivating. Your bodice was a web and a product of war, and they were caught mesmerized – with only the dense forest and one another to witness their quickly unravelling need for you. But even then, they felt some semblance to pity. What they wouldn’t give to the gods right now to be by your side and give you some tending to.

The ridges down your back, the swaying base of your tail, the alluring image of your hips and ass teasingly disappearing into the water below, the silhouette of your horns – that untroubled smile on your lips – they all drink it in with their eyes in a fashion similar to Astarion’s throat would with your blood.

They savor it for as long as they can, before stepping out of the trance as Gale himself not-so-quietly attempted to clamber down from the rough-bark tree he was settled in, dropping down to the dirt and crushing the leaves loudly and ungracefully. Shadowheart gaped with mortification at him from the ground, everyone wishing to every god above you would have mistaken the sound as a particularly large animal, perhaps an owlbear and not a wizard along with an entire party intruding on your privacy.

“Gale! What in the Nine Hells are you doing?!”

Astarion had settled for whisper-yelling once again, pointing at him accusingly from his position atop the tree’s branches besides Halsin. Gale waved his hand, silently telling him to shut the fuck up, before urgently pointing at your discarded armor and clothing, then proceeding to give him a big smile and two thumbs up.

Surely enough to the mortification of the party, he quickly cast Misty Step over himself to travel to your area and hastily swiped (stole) anything soft – including your unattended bandages and undergarments, taking a small moment to put it to his nose and re-casting the spell to return below the tree within a few seconds. He wallowed in his pride before with a swift motion, tucked the newly acquired materia into the pockets of his robe much to the discomfort (and mild envy) of all of them.

“A man has to do and take what he can.” Gale reasoned to nobody in particular, nodding solemnly as if he just shared a piece of wisdom. He suppressed a yelp as Lae’zel then threw a rock at him, followed by another as Astarion thwacked a small branch straight to his forehead from above.

“Just leave it.” Wyll snidely commented, fighting with his life to tear away his eyes from your moonlit form, breaking out of a trance. “We should leave, go back to camp. It’d be suspicious if everyone just disappeared.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy, Wyll.” Astarion rolled his eyes but complied, scaling down the tree quietly, much unlike Gale earlier, who was still fiddling around his pockets with your intimates. “A party pooper, even.”

As repulsive the idea to leave you was, it was reasonable. Begrudingly, everyone quietly sat up or climbed down and quietly attempted to find their way through the dense, dark forest, sharing little observations and hushed chitchat along the way. And soon enough, the party found themselves in familiar territory, now gathering around and settling down near the campfire like they previously had before you announced your leave, as if they didn’t just claw their way through eachother earlier to see a scrap of your vulnerability.

The fire cast a warm glow over the party as they immersed in chitchat, a few (namely Shadowheart and Astarion) pestering and even offering a bargain to Gale for the underclothes he had nicked earlier. The wizard was not deterred; fair and square, he wagged his finger as if to say nuh-uh to the seething two. It was only shortly after, that you came stumbling back into camp like a lost fawn, hair and body language calm and loose but the armor remaining stiff on your body.

Karlach coughed to let the others know you had arrived from your personal time. “Soldier! You’re back!” You greeted her with a nod, before raising a brow and sweeping your eyes amongst them. Gale swallowed, placing a protective hand over the pocket that held your garments.

“You would not believe what happened.” You sighed in utter distress before plopping yourself down besides Halsin and Astarion on the log to let the fire embrace you with warmth, piquing everyone’s interest and attention with intense ease. “A wandering owlbear ate my clothes.”

They all collectively either guffawed or choked on their spit, Lae’zel scoffing and Astarion groaning amongst them. Right. Of course, you would have thought it was a fucking owlbear. Thieving owlbears that take normal, musky clothes instead of shiny armor.

“Ah, owlbears.” Gale tutted and sighed with faux sympathy, nervously chuckling and shifting to hide the lump in his pockets. “They’d eat almost anything, really.”

Astarion shot him a bewildered look, as if to ask, don’t you? You swallowed two of my books last night!

“You can borrow my clothes, for the night.” Shadowheart butted in, suddenly slotting herself behind you and setting a reassuring palm on your shoulder. You smiled at her, gazing up at her gratefully. “Thank you, Sha—”

“Well, you can have my clothes!” Karlach and Lae’zel shot up in unison.

“Sharing your old filth, I can sew them new clothes!” Astarion argued, until everyone started refuting eachother and proposing that you take theirs and whatnot.

You sighed with exasperated fondness, immensely troubled but somewhat used to it as you watch your companions pointlessly banter, having little doubt that by the end of the night, you’d have a fair share of everyone’s wardrobe into yours.

Still, you hope to the very bottom of your heart that the “owlbear” that stole your clothes had a full tummy, at least.

[dustybones]

lil scene redraw from @tadpoleeater's fanfic

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Based off of my post. Here's the wyllstarion modern au told in fake tweets

[hylianworrier]

Hot Sauce Bloodweave AU expanded - The Saucerors

!!!Spoilers for Hot Mess!!!

So @patheticfangirl's Hot Mess has a hold on me and I wondered what Gale might do post-weave. His magic act is essentially dead in the water now that magic is real, so I imagined him and Astarion doing stupid magic tricks and posting them online 💜

There's a pair of German magicians called Siegfried Und Joy who I am absolutely obsessed with and have 100% used them as references for this nonsense. They are hilarious and I love them

And if you haven't you must read Hot Mess

[avocado-writing]

roadtrip au

I can’t stop thinking about a modern au roadtrip and what everyone would be doing in the minivan you definitely have. I’m sorry if this has been done before but -

Tav

You’re driving. Would you trust any of those other fools to? No. Absolutely not letting them behind the wheel

Responsible for keeping the schedule. You have to be at your destination on time and you’ll be damned if they’ll stop you.

The only person you sometimes let take over if you need a break is —

Gale

Let’s be real. Only other one of you with a driving license.

he sits shotgun mostly because he reads the map for you if your GPS goes out.

tries to work out shortcuts. Fails miserably. If you follow his “time saving” directions you’ll get so fucking lost. Only trust him to read out your planned route and nothing else.

Astarion

Fucking hates road trips. Catch him with a sleep mask on and headphones in. Will absolutely sleep through the whole entire thing.

Let’s be clear. He doesn’t NEED to sleep. But he does because he can’t fucking stand car talk. Would rather listen to podcasts and be in his own world. especially because of —

Lae’zel

Hates road trips too but because she’s a terrible backseat driver. Doesn’t understand why you can’t speed all the way there to make the trip more efficient, or take out other cars.

rolls down the window to shout at people on the road who she thinks are driving poorly.

Gets in fights with people at the gas station when you stop to refuel the car. And also in the car with —

Shadowheart

Always there to bicker with Lae’zel. When she’s not doing that she’s brooding out of the window.

Mutters that this must be some sort of trial from her god, because she is suffering being stuck in this minivan.

does fall asleep on the shoulder of the person sitting next to her though. (Often Lae’zel. Weird they always sit next to each other when they can’t seem to get along… but Lae’zel does let her sleep, claiming that the silence is better.)

Karlach

One of the few people who enjoys the ride!

likes to call out farm animals she sees as you drive by. “Sheep!” or “cows!”

LOVES a game of yellow car. Especially the version where you punch each other. Therefore she doesn’t get many volunteers to sit next to her.

Wyll

He controls the music and the aux cord. People all approve of his music tastes. Makes the best playlists, change my mind

he’s often singing along too, he has a nice voice, catch him and Tav belting out “unwritten” at the top of their lungs as you speed down the motorway.

helps settle fights in the van. Massive peacekeeper. If there was no Wyll there would be no roadtrip.

Halsin

Hates being in a car but sucks it up and does it anyway.

this man is the snack master. He brings all the snacks. And good stuff too, like a lot of nice sweets and crisps…

… because if people are eating they aren’t arguing.

likes to be next to a window so he can see nature go by, gets into conversations with Karlach about the animals and trees around 💕

[zoloteh-volossya]

Some Thoughts on Minthara

A repeating theme of all of the Origin companions is that what they think they want at the beginning of the game is a result of their fucked up pasts and is ultimately bad for them. Shadowheart wants to be a DJ, but that cuts her off from the potential to grow beyond Shar and loss. Lae'zel wants to Ascend, which would obliterate her in her entirety. Karlach would rather die than go back to hell, but dying cuts off the potential continued life she may find thanks to that Infernal Forge. Astarion wants to Ascend, which locks him into a cycle of violence, power, and fear. Gale has two failures of goals - first to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness, then to Ascend (which hollows him out of all the originally noble intentions he had going into it). Wyll wants to serve, no matter what the cost to himself - which would lead him to stay pacted to Mizora when freedom beckons.

All of these initial goals stem from the environments/abuses that the companions are coming from. And they're all understandable! But they're unhealthy and/or maladaptive, and so in order for every Origin companion to get to their best/happiest ending they need to change and grow away from what they initially thought they wanted due to the influence of their pasts and personal flaws.

Minthara, when we meet her under her own free will, has abandoned Lolth but not her attitudes. She seeks love, yes, but also seeks any sort of power she can get her hands on with a desperation borne of fear. She cares deeply for Karlach and Lae'zel and reluctantly for Astarion, Shart, and Gale, but is willing to enslave them all as she herself was enslaved if it makes her Top Dog. Her ideal ending is codependent evil power couple with you, controlling the brain - and I think that's her 'bad' ending, akin to Ascended Astarion or DJ Shart.

Basically, I think there’s two sides to her. There's the side that desires genuine connections and is willing to go to hell for Karlach even if unromanced... and the side that chases power even if it means doing things like enslaving Karlach. She wants purpose (per her dialogue upon leaving Moonrise), a home and friends (per her dialogue when leaving the party), and protection (per her dialogues with the player). I think if she was able to obtain those things through sources other than trying to conquer Menzoberranzan/the Sword Coast she might be able to express the former side of herself more.

We see a bit of that in her Karlach romance, where she throws aside all concerns of seeking power to go to hell for her girlfriend. She doesn't talk of conquering or ruling Avernus - her focus is purely on vengeance for Karlach. It's an interesting reevaluation of her priorities and also why I like her pairing with Karlach so much.

As a side character, she doesn't get a questline and arc like the Origin companions get. But I think that it is notable that her happiest ending seems to be staying in Baldur's Gate. In her epilogue dialogue with Origin!Lae'zel she confesses that she is not happy if she pursues reconquering Menzoberranzan, and harbors doubts about her ability to succeed.

Because ultimately - as Ascended Astarion shows - pursuing power and conquest does not actually make you happier or safer. It just means a life dominated by fear. Lolth's treatment of the drow - and thus the drow treatment of each other - has been compared by writers of canon D&D novels to an abusive relationship. And like so many other survivors of abuse, Minthy is out of the immediate situation but still carries that way of thinking worn into her psyche, like ruts in a road.

She’ll never be “nice” or even necessarily “good,” but I’d like to think that over time, in the right environment, she can leave behind most of the self destructive power seeking of the Lolthite mindset. Move on from the toxic patterns of her past, as the Origin companions get to do in game.

[taki-yaki]

Batstarion A!Astarion + S!Astarion Headcanons

Pairing: A!Astarion/S!Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav/Durge

This one took a while to write up, but I did learn some interesting facts about vampire bats and tried to apply them here.

**Spawn Astarion**

After the defeat of Cazador, Astarion soon discovered a book within the palace, which contained the skills of vampire spawns that his master never wanted him to know about.

One of these skills was to turn into a creature of the night, this quickly intrigued Astarion, causing him to try and master the spell. He even tries practising wild shape methods taught to him by Halsin.

This takes a while for him to master, night after night spent trying to improve his skills with no transformation in sight. One night, nearly at his wits end with trying to master it, you speak,

“Maybe it’s a phrase you have to shout, try yelling bat, maybe that would work?”

“Darling, I don’t think it’s going to be as simple as saying the word bat-”.

Suddenly,  who was once standing in place of Astarion, now lay a small white ball of fluff with wings.

You are greeted by happy chirps and squeaks, quickly turning into a chorus of angry squeaks. One drink of speak to animals potion unravels what he is saying.

“I can’t turn back, darling do something, I don’t want to be stuck looking like a rat!” he huffed.

“Try and relax, it might wear off?”

“How can I relax like this, I don’t even have arms!”

Softly touching the white curly on his head, with the lightest tip of your finger, the pale bat relaxes instantly within the palm of your hand, almost purring at your touch.

Suddenly, the weight shifted from your hands, causing you to drop the bat onto the ground, only for Astarion to shift back into his humanoid form.

Checking to see if he’s fine, you are greeted by light snoring coming from him, seemingly collapsed from exhaustion, the transformation takes on him. Over time, he learns how to master turning into a bat with ease, allowing him to require shorter rests after turning back.

Of course, with him being at such a small size, it makes travelling together simple from keeping him under a robe to shade him from the sun and his light weight. When shopping at local markets, he’ll take advantage of merchants fawning over how cute he is, giving you discounts on your produce, without being aware that he’s a blood-sucking vampire spawn under that white fluff.

“I do wish they gave us something more savoury and juicy for free” grumbling to himself.

“And miss out on all the other goods we get?”

“Hmmm…fair enough, but don’t be surprised if ask for extra tonight” responding with a smirk.

He would adore all the attention you give him in this form, from soft pets on his head to just relaxing with you at such a small size. At Wither’s reunion party, he would show it off to others about it any chance he gets, as his special party trick, beaming the whole way through. Although he would have to deal with the hangover afterwards from shifting constantly the next morning.

Additionally, if you can fly, whether that is by being a druid who can wild shape, to a draconic sorcerer who has gained their wings, you both have fun flying around together at night.

**Ascended Astarion**

For A!Astarion, transforming into a bat is as easy as a wizard casting a cantrip, simple and quick with no downsides.

A!Astarion wouldn’t be one to showcase his ability to shift into a bat at his grand masquerade parties, mainly for fear of being seen as a weak simple creature. Although he would use it to stealthily eves drop on others from the cover of the shadows.

After he’s fed you enough of his blood, if you are his spawn, he’ll teach you how to turn into a bat. In your bat form, he’ll fuss over you more, being more protective of you in this form, as if your body is a prized porcelain vase. Some of the servants just presume you're another bat he’s caring for out of the thousands in the palace.

Carrying you around in his shirt pocket to always gaze at you, whether he’s signing contracts to talking with nobles from other cities, he would be their watching over you, closer to his undead heart than ever before.

Eventually, after a while, he would teach you how to fully fly and would only allow you to fly out at night, only if he was there to keep watch over you. Whilst transformed into your bat forms, he would develop the habits of bats from trying to constantly groom your coat, by cleaning each other’s fur, despite your protests at times and sharing food with you by regurgitating blood as a gift to you.

Compared to the rare moments he is the one in bat form, he would only allow you to pet him, usually in private away from prying eyes, insisting that he has a reputation to uphold.

“Pet, I am all for you adoring me, but we mustn't tell others of this, I have an image to uphold after all”.

He would also experiment with applying some elements of his bat form to his humanoid form, such as shifting his arms to be bat wings, usually as an intimidation tactic, or to show off during his extravagant ball dance parties with you, by lifting you into the air with him.

When you carry him around in his bat form, he would try to nip you more often, unprompted over any small inconvenience. 

Not paying full attention to him? Bite,

Talking to someone other than him? Bite,

Just bored with nothing else to do? Bite.

But if you attempt the same thing to him when you're in bat form? He would laugh, calling you a “Cheeky little pup”.

However, if you keep trying to nip him, he will eventually gently order you to stop and ensure he’ll get his payback later in the day, still being petty about it.

[loviatarsluv-old]

Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now. 

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him. 

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances. 

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone. 

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise. 

Though, he could hardly blame him. 

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her? 

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her. 

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain. 

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night. 

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically). 

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her. 

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed. 

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t. 

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his. 

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him. 

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp. 

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return. 

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being. 

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock. 

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.  

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction. 

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh. 

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?” 

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche. 

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s. 

Firebolt. No, no. 

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.” 

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.” 

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” 

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow. 

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted. 

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her. 

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed. 

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her. 

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised. 

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation. 

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight. 

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips. 

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.” 

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench. 

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches. 

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment. 

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?” 

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center. 

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars. 

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now. 

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it. 

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle. 

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing. 

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression. 

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him. 

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent. 

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face. 

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.” 

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll. 

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details. 

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak. 

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed. 

“What the hells is wrong with y—” 

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes. 

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him. 

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault. 

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones. 

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space. 

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure. 

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands. 

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.” 

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate. 

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.” 

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body. 

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time. 

Gale as a lover was no different. 

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head. 

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly. 

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her. 

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a  plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them. 

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more. 

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby. 

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him. 

I need to suck your cock. Please. 

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection. 

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet. 

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness. 

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy. 

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do. 

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls. 

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his. 

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. 

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic. 

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger. 

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” 

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.” 

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can. 

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate. 

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.” 

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat. 

Home. This felt like home. 

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this. 

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare. 

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning. 

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest. 

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice. 

“Gale, I’m gonna—” 

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.” 

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating. 

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had. 

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further. 

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight. 

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed. 

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly. 

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.” 

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.” 

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?” 

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest. 

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.” 

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship. 

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy. 

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.” 

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber. 

[beepersteeper]

I Will Always Find You -- Astarion x Tav -- Vulnerability | Part 7

Astarion and F!Tav live happily together for the remaining years she has, she refuses to be turned into a vampire because her faith says that her soul isn’t finished with its work yet. Tav dies of old age and leaves Astarion to put together the pieces of his broken heart. AN: Lord of Light lore taken and changed to fit the story's means. Not canonically accurate. TLDR story line stuff. This is an AU where Astarion ascends but isn't a power hungry bastard and Tav is able to help him continue healing. Wyll is immortal and the Duke. Karlach in my mind, if given a new engine would be able to live a lot longer than the usual tiefling. Another AN: idk if anyone wants tagged in this WIP but let me know. 

His  eyes slowly bink open, admittedly fighting the urge to wake up fully. He feels something moving up and down his arm causing him to slowly force his eyes open fully. When he does he sees Vira’s hand haphazardly tracing wavy lines on his arm, her eyes still closed. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the tender moment. He yawns, unable to hide being awake anymore he hugs her to him with the arm on her back. “Good morning, beautiful.” he whispers into the top of her head, kissing her there too. She hums barely awake herself. “I hope you slept okay.”

She moves her head to look at him and smiles. “I slept wonderfully.” she coos. “But how on earth how did you convince daddy to stay the night?”

Astarion chuckles mostly through his nose. “I didn't convince him, he refused to let me take myself home.”

“He does really like you, you know.” she props herself on her forearms to look at him more easily, her bed head hair falling into her face. She leans her head to the side trying to push it to the side without her hands. 

Smiling, Astaion pushes his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I don't think he's the only one, darling.” he tuts. She blushes, burying her face in her hands muttering for him to stop. He does, leaning his head forward to kiss her head again. “This was the best night's sleep I've had in a long, long time.” he sighs, resting his head on the pillow behind him. “But I should consider heading home soon, I'm sure Wyll is wondering where I am, and I'm famished.” Vira nods, understanding. “You could come with me, if you’re free,” he adds.

Vira pushes herself up in bed, kissing him quickly with the intention of sitting upright. But that was stalled when Astarions hands held onto her face and pulled her back into a kiss. “I wasn’t done with that.” he chuckles watching her eyes smolder briefly before deepening their kiss, her tongue finding his and delicately dancing together. She pushes herself up again, with her hand flat on his chest and righting herself on the bed, smiling down to Astarion who sighed and licked his lips.

“I could get used to waking up like this.” she giggled mostly to herself, stepping off the bed and stretching before opening her wardrobe and turning her head to Astarion “A moment?” she blushes while pulling out a black and  maroon dress. 

“Right.” he coughs “of course.” he nods and steps out into the hall and shuts the door behind him starting to fix his clothes. As he does Eyman walks slowly into the hall squinting trying to piece together what is happening. 

“Morning.” Eyman grumbles “Why are you just standing here son?”

“Vira is getting changed, sir- sorry.” he apologizes after hearing the honorific roll off his tongue.

Eyman waves his hand “It’s too early. I'd rather too much respect than too little. You slept okay?” Astarion nods his response. “Wonderful.” Eyman smiles briefly before knocking on the door “I'm leaving for the day daughter, have a good day.”

“You too daddy! I love you.” she shouts through the door. Eyman smiles, responding with  his own love for her. 

“Have a good day Little Star.” he smiles and holds out his hand to shake and whispers to him “get her out of this bookstore will you? If she has a choice she'll probably stay here and pour herself into a book before she realizes the day has passed.” Astarion nods acknowledging what Eyman said. 

Her father walks down the stairs and leaves the building. Astarion leans on the wall next to the door and waits for her to be ready. He hears her call out to him. “Star, can you come in here please?” she huffs. He unknowingly smiles, hearing Tav’s name for him being spoken again.

“Are you decent?” he asks cracking the door open before walking in

“Yes, I just need” she sounds annoyed “a bit of” she grumbles curses “help.” He walks in to see her reaching for a lace in the center of her back. “I lost hold of the tie. Can you finish it for me?”

“Sure” he smiles and strides over taking the dark ribbon in his hands. He straightens the fabric on her back and smooths the sides along her ribs before tightening the lower laces of the corset and threading it through the upper eyelets “is that too tight?” he asks as he flattens all of the laces and she shakes her head. He finally ties the lace in a bow and tucks the ends into the top to secure them. He slides his hand down her side to rest it on her hip and leans his chin on her shoulder.

“What do you think?” she asks, looking at his face through the mirror's reflection.

“You are stunning.” he sighs, kissing her shoulder, moving her hair over her other shoulder, pushing his own deja vu from his mind, remembering the days tav would let him feed from her like this, needing to get some breakfast in his system.

“It's my favorite dress.” she starts to take a step forward to continue getting ready. She was stopped being held in place.

“It is a great dress, but you” he emphasizes “are beautiful.” he holds her hand while watching her blush. “Don't sell yourself short darling.” he opens his hand and lets her step away, leaning himself on the door frame. While she brushes her hair he asks “Is it okay if we get breakfast at my place?”

She shrugs “That's not a problem.”

“It won't bother you if I have my breakfast will it?”

“Astarion, I wouldn't be dating a vampire if I was squeamish, as long as you're not eviscerating something on the table I think I'll be okay.” she looks at him with a cheeky half smile. 

“Oh gods no.” he says, sucking on his teeth and waving the thought away. “I'm not a heathen.” Once she is ready he puts on his boots, gathers his jacket and they walk to the palace hand in hand. Going the quickest way because the hunger pangs are intensifying, it's been nearly a decade since he's felt those pangs. “Think about what you want darling, the chef will make you whatever your heart desires.”

“I usually just have coffee and toast.” she shrugs “Just have them surprise me.” she laughs, nudging her shoulder into his “What's on the docket for Lord Ancunín today?” She toys.

Groaning Astarion responds “Absolutely nothing.” he nudges her back changing his tone “Astarion however has a day full of giving his undivided attention to a certain gorgeous woman.”

“Who’s the lucky lady?” she jokes.

“She's truly amazing.” he smiles and looks at her out of the corner of his eye “she's funny, and intelligent, and the first person in like 30 years that I've wanted to spend time with. She's about this tall” he puts his hand above her head “and has these green eyes that make it hard to breathe if I look at them too long.”

“Stooop.” she coos, turning her face away to hide her cheeks flushing.

“You aaasked” he responds with the same tone and laughs as he opens the door being immediately greeted by a worker.

“Lord Ancunín, welcome home, do you need anything?”

“Breakfast. Please.” he urges hanging his jacket on the banister. “And have Ellar make that breakfast sandwich he used to make, for my guest.”

“Right away my lord, will you be taking it in your room?”

“Not today. The dining room is fine.” he shakes his head as the worker leaves in a hurry. Astarion gestures with his head for Vira to follow him. “I promise I'll give you the tour you deserve after we eat.”' He guides her to the large dining room walking past Wyll’s office as he waves to him earning a suspicious look over the newspaper. No sooner than he pulls a chair out for Vira his goblets were delivered. “Oh gods below thank you.” he looks at Vira as he sits next to her holding one of the goblets “Are you sure you're okay if I..?”

She pushes the bottom of the vessel toward his mouth “If you don't just have your breakfast…” she darts a threatening look to him “I swear to all of the gods I will make you.”

He sighs happily into his glass, finishing one quickly, dulling the ache in his stomach. He picks up the second, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb making sure he didn't spill any. “I almost forgot, you're in charge.” he tuts. She raises her eyebrows and smiles. He tends to his second glass slowly, savoring it. Making a note to figure out where it came from, certainly tastes human again. Vira’s meal is delivered and she coos over how delicious it is. I could eat this every day for the rest of my life, Tav would say. I don't know what Ellar does, but he does it well. Astarion raises his goblet and takes another shallow swallow. They enjoy their breakfast together and he rocks his head back finishing the contents of his glass and setting it on the table and closing his eyes, sitting in the slight high from human blood again and after a day without any. He opens his eyes when he hears Vira speak.

“What's it like?” she says, earning a confused look from Astarion. “Does it just feel like eating regular food?”

“Not really.” he shakes his head “it depends on its source. Non-thinking creatures are like watered down broth. Just enough to survive but never enough to be satisfied. Others, it's like a full bodied wine, heavy in  the stomach and can sometimes cloud the mind like a strong drink. But everyone is different, no two taste the same.” she nods, processing the answer. A different worker comes and clears the table. Astarion stands from his seat and offers his arm to Vira “How about that tour I promised?” She takes her usual place on his arm and he leads them both through the palace, pointing out different interesting rooms, art, or details. “This is home.” he shrugs.

“This place is huge.” she says in awe spinning in a circle, enamored, taking in everything. “I can't imagine living in a place this big.”

Astarion shrugs agreeing. "That's why I'll never tell Wyll, but I'm glad he stays here.” He whispers to her walking down a small flight of stairs to get to a terrace “and here's the best view from the palace of the entire city." He gestures broadly “and on especially clear nights you can't find a better view of the stars.” He leans his hands on the fencing and looks over his domain.

"So you've watched the gate grow from here for 300 years?” Vira asks leaning like him to his side. 

“More like the last 100." He admits, shrugging “the first 200 I was not… I didn't have much time to just sit back and watch.” she doesn't say anything but places her hand on his squeezing three times and rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. They look over the horizon and see a fleet of ships making their way into the channel of port. Astarion watches her eyes fix onto the first ship in the fleet as her mouth turns down for a moment before returning to its neutral state. “Where to now?" She asks, pushing herself away from the stone fence turning away from the view.

He cocks his eyebrows at her apparent disdain for the ships. “What was that look for?” he asks following her.

Vira rolls her eyes and sighs “My mom died in a shipwreck some 20 years ago.”  She takes a breath and turns sad eyes toward him. He on instinct pulls her into a hug caging her to him with his arms keeping her facing the building. “Assumed dead I suppose. But at this point Daddy and I have all but accepted it. When I was a kid I used to go sit at the docks where we lived and wait, and wait and wait for her to come home. But she was the captain and I know she wouldn't have saved herself before any of her crew.” she leaned her forehead on his shoulder, breathing shallowly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn't know…” Astarion is really unsure what to say.

She shakes her head “You wouldn't have any reason to, we don't talk about it any more. Hurts daddy too much. And I’ve learned how to be alright. I still keep in contact with some of the crew she had, luckily a few have stayed on land since then and one has even made a home here in the gate. They're actually the reason we moved here. She and daddy have found some sort of… comfort” she laughs and sticks out her tongue at the thought “in each other's company.”

“Oh. OH! Oh..” Astarion flips through the emotions quickly realizing what she was implying. “That's something I know now.” he laughs with Vira who restates about the tour, wanting to be done talking about her mother. 

“That's really the end of the grand tour." He chuckles and stands upright as well. “But I need to get changed because I already don't love dressing up like this" he gestures to himself “and now I've been in this for an entire day." They walk for a moment and turn into his and Tav's room. “Just give me a moment." He asks while taking his shirt off and grabbing a new plain outfit and walking into the washroom. Vira catches a glimpse of his scar and causes her breath to audibly catch. “What's wrong darling?" 

"Can I ask about those…” she trails off, letting her eyes travel the expanse of his back.

He heaves a breath into his lungs turning his eyes to face her. "Let me change first?” 

She nods and urges, "I won't ask if you're uncomfortable." As he closed the doors of the washroom. 

“It's fine, really. Just a sore subject, but if Tav ever taught me anything it's that transparency in a relationship is important." He kind of mumbles to himself, lacing his pants and putting on his scented oil. He walks out of the room finger combing his hair willing it into place not letting his eyes meet hers. “Come here?” He asked his voice softer than usual, reaching his hands out to her and setting himself on the foot of the bed. She does, standing between his knees pulling his head gently into her chest running her fingers through his hair trying to soothe his nerves while he begins to speak. “I haven't always been this person. A decent person.” 

He scoffs at his own words and starts at the beginning explaining his life in a tone as if talking about a different man. I was a magistrate in a new town. I pissed off the Gur and they mugged me, and a powerful man offered to save me from my inevitable death. And like an idiot without hesitation I took his offer. Cazador Szar turned me into a bloodthirsty monster to do his own bidding. My 6 spawn siblings and I were his to do anything he demanded. I spent 200 years luring so many people into my bed and then into his grasp. That monster carved those runes into our backs in an attempt to become the first and only Vampire Ascendant- A being with all of the strength of a vampire that had none of the weaknesses. One who could live an eternal life on the line between mortal and immortal. The runes were all the fine print of an infernal contract. My adventuring companions, Tav, Wyll, and Karlach helped me take his spot, with the promise that I wouldn’t become like him. The devil you know and what not. We knew that I wouldn't cause the same carnage that he would or the 7 thousand nearly feral spawn. I've spent the last hundred years trying to retrain my mind from being a spawn, trying to right wrongs and do some good to… I guess make up for his past mistakes and my own. “All of that to say I'm a broken man. Those scars just are a physical reminder of all of the shit I've been through.”

Vria doesn't say anything, but doesn't move either. she just continues raking her fingers through his hair, gently dragging her nails on his scalp.  Astarion looks up at her face, trying to glean some sort of understanding of her reaction. Worry, empathy, so many questions hiding behind her eyes. He sets his forehead on her stomach letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. She kneels on the floor holding his face in her hands, not letting him escape her gaze. “Thanks for trusting all of that with me.” her smile is light and genuine "I didn't know you've been through so much.” She rests back on her heels finding his hand with hers. He shrugs again, unsure what to say.

"That's an awfully calm reaction to finding out that I am a literal monster.” He chuffs and tries to turn his head away from her.

“I don't see a monster." She shakes her head, holding firm on his face “I see someone who has been through the hells and back and somehow hasn't lost the drive to be good. You said it yourself." She smiles a little more than before.

He shakes his head and forces air through his nose raising his lip disgusted. “How do you see that through everything I just told you?”

"Because” she starts "all of that is who you were. That's all the experience that made you who you are today. And from what I've seen, who you are today isn't a “monster"” She emphasizes with finger quotes "if you were ever one before.” to which he just smiles a weak smile and shakes his head. "What? Do you want me to see you as a monster?”

"Of course not.” He says shooting his head up from where it was resting knitting his eyebrows in the center of his face.

"Then stop trying to change my mind, Star.” she urges, earning a surprised laugh from the pale form in front of her.

“Whatever you say." He chuckles and shakes his head again.

The rest of the day was spent just spending time together. Truly getting to know each other. They talked about their past good and bad, friends, family and dreams. Before they knew it dinner time had come and they were invited to join Wyll in the dining room. He had asked for a hearty meal to be made because he said "I was kind of missing the campsite today.”

Astarion laughs hard when they are served the same stew that Gale used to make, simmering over the fire all day.  “You're telling me you miss sleeping on rocks?" He jokes feigning a sore back.

"Now, now I didn't say that." He laughs. “Just the…  company. And now you're back, and you've brought Vira around… it feels like some pieces of our past are coming back together.”

Vira talks to Wyll about his account of their adventure, telling embarrassing stories about Astarion in the process. Astarion sits back in his chair, tending to his supper and just looking at Vira. Trying to wrap his mind around everything they talked about today. He reaches out his hand and squeezes her thigh three times before returning to the conversation at hand, trying to defend himself from Wyll’s exaggeration of the blood-drained boar outside of the goblin camp. After supper is over Astarion walks Vira back home, the sky losing its light quickly with the setting sun. He opens the door for her and closes it behind himself, being greeted by Eyman.

“You have a good day daughter?” he asks, kissing her cheek.

“Just the best daddy.” She sighs and smiles as if Astarion wasnt there and starts detailing their day like a schoolgirl. “We spent the whole day just talking. I've never been more excited to just talk to someone than I am with him.'' She coos and grabs his hand. “Also, thanks for letting him stay last night.”

“Of course.” he smiles past her to Astarion “I wouldn't let someone you care about so much wander the streets at that hour.” to which Astarion rolls his eyes and smiles.

“Then I should leave soon before I have to stay again.” he flirts , winking at Vira.

“Don't press your luck Little Star.” Eyman jokingly warns with a wagging finger.

“I should excuse myself though, Wyll needs me back home tonight.” he says bringing Viras knuckles to his lips to kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks her directly.

“I would hope so.” she blushes.

“Good night Eyman” he shakes the man's hand getting a nod as a response.

“I can take a hint.” Eyman chuckles and walks into the curtained room.

Astarion puts his arms around Vira’s waist pulling her close to him and in turn she drapes her arms over his shoulders. “Thanks for everything today, Darling.” He is cut off by a quick response, her saying there was nothing to thank her for. He ignores it and continues “Thank you for listening to me, for not judging me, for wanting to see the best in me. But most of all thank you for trusting me.” he kisses her lips, breathing in her scent, pulling away only when they need to take a breath. “I don't know what the future holds, but I hope beyond hope I get to see it with you, love.”

“Then isn't it great we want the same thing?” she flirts, touching his nose with hers. Astarions smile reaches the creases around his eyes as he nods. She kisses him sweetly before saying “Goodnight Star, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walks away slowly, backwards holding her hand until they couldn't touch any more. 

He shuts the door behind himself and walks happily to the cemetery. He kneels in front of Tav’s marker placing his hand on the stone and his forehead on his hand. He speaks to Tav in his mind Gods, my love, I wish you could tell me if she's… if she's you. I can feel myself drawn to her. It just feels… natural being with Vira. There's moments that I feel like I've known her for, well, as long as I've known you! It's got to be. But how do I figure it out? How do I show her? Will you hate me if I'm wrong and I still fall for her? His chest wrenches with the last thought. Conflicted. Just give me a bloody sign darling. Tell me if I'm even close to being right. At that moment he hears Vira’s voice call out through the night 

“Astarion! Daddy said if you don't go home right now he's going to drag you into this house himself.” she calls leaning out of her open window leaning on her hand looking at him kneeling in the grass.

He giggles into the face of the stone. He doesn't believe in signs, but if he did, that would be one. “Tell him I'm leaving,” he calls back “I just needed to talk to Tav for a moment. Goodnight Darling.” They wave to each other as Astarion walks at a quick pace out of the cemetery, keeping that pace the majority of the way home. 

When he walks in the door he is almost immediately greeted with a glass of warm red liquid. He thanks the worker and asks where it was procured. The worker responds by saying that an old contracted agreement offered their service again when word of his return spread. He nods, accepting that response. He walks into Wyll’s office to begin going over  their calendar planning different meetings and events that they are either planning, collaborating in planning or being noted guests at. 

“Glad to see you made it back tonight.” Wyll joked from his stack of papers

“If you and I didn't already have a date I probably wouldn't have.” Astarion responds in kind. “Although I almost didn't get the chance to because Eyman saw I was in the cemetery after I left and I had to leave before he ‘dragged me in the house himself’.” Astarion uses finger quotes. “I've been on this plane for 3 full centuries and he is treating me like I'm his child.” he scoffs and smiles without realizing it.

“He's treating you like you're dating his daughter. I don't think he would care if you were 30 or 500 years old. That's the role you're in.” Wyll gestures with a paper scratching the base of his horns. “You're not worried that things are moving kind of fast though? Spending the night together already?”

“Not at all. It's not like we're sleeping together, well we slept together  but you know what I mean. We're just going with the flow. Seeing where things go. It's incredible how natural this all is.” he looks at Wyll for a moment before continuing “Do you believe in signs?”

“Suppose I do?” Wyll humors Astarion.

Astarion explains the whole scene in the cemetery tonight ending his description saying “I asked if I was close, then Vira called out to me. That's weird, right?”

“Certainly a strange circumstance. If I believed in signs I would be inclined to believe that was one.” Wyll says diplomatically. “And yet you decided to come home to work on this with me rather than spend another night with her? I'm honored.”

Astarion groans loudly and buries his nose in his work, accepting an invitation to a dinner honoring the new graduating class of the Flaming Fist in 3 months time. “I hope these fledgling fist remember what their studies taught them and we won't have to intervene again.” Wyll nods in agreement “Are you bringing anybody?”

Wyll considers the question for a moment before suggesting he could reach out to karlach “she had said recently that she's hoping to come topside, her engine has been upgraded and maintained. She thinks that she may be able to come back up full time…”

“Hmm, maybe I can harass you like you've done to me if she comes topside. I recall all of your stories you shared over a bottle of red when she had to go back to Avernus.” Astarion taunts.

Wyll blushes briefly before closing his own work. “Just mark us both down for a plus one would you? I think I'm going to retire for the night.”

Astarion sucks his teeth with a tut “We were having such a fun conversation my friend.”

“You were having a good time taking the piss my friend.” Wyll retorts, bending slightly at the waist. “I have a tiefling to contact.” he says picking up an enchanted book and waves it in the air before leaving the room. 

Astarion chuckles to himself and cleans up the desk before retiring to his room for the night as well. Changing quickly and collapsing into bed, realizing he is able to meditate again. He happily falls into his trance and rests through the night.

@zoeloveslotr @silverfangmarks @prudent-nerd @sadexistentialism

[lockewrites]

Reader giving Halsin a massage

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || Semi-NSFW (suggestive) || 1332 words AO3

POST-GAME SPOILERS FOR HALSIN

From @thecaptainsassistant (it won't let me properly tag you D:) - Hi, I saw you posted recently about HalsinxReader oneshots and was wondering if you'd be willing to write one with a human femReader ranger giving Halsin a back-rub (can be any degree of citrus rating you like). Have a lovely day!

You find yourself watching him without meaning to, your eyes often idly drifting to his form whenever he’s near and his attention is not yours to claim. A book had been keeping you company for some time as you sought quiet from the bustle of refugees attempting to reclaim some semblance of stability in Thaniel’s realm, but Halsin rarely stops for breath. Constantly hurrying from place to place, ensuring all were taken care of; exhausting to watch, let alone experience, but it warms your heart all the same… as well as casts worry in your mind.

Hunched over his desk, his hand moves fiercely back and forth as he pens his thoughts and plans, always anticipating the next step, the possible consequences, whose skills would suit the task best. The quill against the scroll echoes in the room, and you can’t help but shake your head. He simply never stops.

The book closes with a soft thump, and you place it on the end table before approaching Halsin. As you near, his posture shifts, straightening and turning slightly to glance at you from the corner of his gaze. Even with the weight of this new responsibility, the distractions and obligations, he never loses sight of you.

“What is it, my heart?” he asks, the scratching of the quill finally halting.

You rest your backside against the edge of his desk and look down at him, one of the few times you don’t need to crane your neck to meet his hazel eyes. Reaching out, your fingers cup his jaw, your palm on his chin as your thumb trails across his lips. Gaze taking him in, you note the shadows beneath his eyes, the tinge of pink in his sclera, and a new heaviness in the rise and fall of his breaths.

“You need to rest,” you say, voice quiet yet firm.

“I will,” he replies as he presses a fleeting kiss against your thumb.

“Now,” you insist, gripping his chin gently, as if to punctuate the word.

Halsin smiles, but it’s not enough to hide the weariness that holds him. He places the quill in the inkpot as his other hand rests on your thigh; you know the movement well, an attempt at distracting you from your concerns. Not a promise of intimacy, as that would draw him away from his duties, but an intimate enough gesture he knows has an effect on you. You can’t think of your worry for him if you’re too focused on his touch, what those fingers have done, what those fingers could do.

Your eyes flicker to his hand before returning to his gaze; your expression is wholly unimpressed.

“I will be finished shortly,” he promises.

He’s an honest man and would typically never dare make such false utterances toward you, but the integrity is pliant when it comes to his own well-being. It’s a lie he’s told you numerous times, and after the first few, you learned it’s never ‘shortly.’

You’re not without your own techniques, however. Pushing off the desk, you step behind him, your hand sliding down his neck and resting just beneath his collarbones as the other joins it; your arms around him, his warmth spilling into your chest as you embrace him from behind.

His muscles shift beneath you as he leans back and places his hands over yours, the tautness in his movements noticeable even through your clothing.

You slip your hands from his and move them to his shoulders, giving a tentative squeeze before kneading the hard flesh under your fingers.

An involuntary groan escapes him, his head falling forward in an instant.

“It’ll take me longer if you continue distracting me,” he warns, though the way his head sways ever-slightly as your fingers work at his stressed muscles betrays the insincerity in his words.

A smile plays on your lips, knowing he won’t deny you much longer. Halsin had always been so pliant under your touch, though it wasn’t until more recently you had realized. Leaning down, your lips press against the back of his neck, the sun-kissed skin warm and filling your senses with hints of oak and herbs; you breathe him in, the scent having become your home after all you’d been through.

Your hands continue massaging away his stress, earning you more poorly stifled moans. He’s losing this battle, and you both know it.

Halsin’s loose hair falls over your fingers as his head tips backward; he looks at you with that hazel gaze, his eyes holding a mix of adoration and exasperation.

With a smirk, you lower your face to his, claiming a kiss that he immediately melts into.

“Come on,” you insist after you pull away. “And I’ll finish what I started.”

He blinks at you a few times before sighing and pushing away from the desk.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the bed but stop him before he can sit. You undo the laces of his tunic, pushing the fabric to the floor and exposing his beautiful torso. After a greedy glance, you motion for him to lie down as you pull a bottle of oil from your nightstand.

“On your stomach.” Your voice is soft but commanding, and he obeys with a chuckle.

Once he’s settled, you climb onto the bed and straddle his thick waist, letting most of your weight rest against him.

“Not often I’m the one face down on the bed,” Halsin remarks, and though you can’t see it, you hear the smile in his voice.

You hum and tilt your head, admiring him beneath you. “It’s quite a view,” you reply as you rub the oil between your fingers.

The smell of lavender and orchid fills the air as you press your fingers into his skin; it doesn’t take long to find knots, the weight of rebuilding Reithwin and caring for those brought over from Baldur’s Gate heavy on his broad shoulders. While the land healed and continues to do so, and Halsin and you escape the town on occasion and venture into the land’s wilderness, it’s not quite enough to free either of you, but especially Halsin, of the constant worries that come with such a responsibility.

He doesn’t speak, and other than his occasional relaxed hum that vibrates beneath your hands, the room is quiet. Peaceful and withdrawn enough that it feels as though you two are in your own world, and you adore these moments. Halsin is hesitant to express such sentiments, but you know he would have collapsed under the pressure he places upon himself if not for these escapes.

You pay no mind to the time past, only stopping once your fingers and arm risk giving out.

He peeks backward at you. “Finished already?” he teases as you shake out your arms.

There was once a time he’d have fought you on pampering him so, but it was a fight he soon conceded when he learned you would never give up and it makes you happy; not to mention, it provides an excuse for him to return the favor, though he rarely needs one as he’s always seeking ways to pleasure you, whether innocently or intimately.

His back arches in, the muscles rippling as he stretches under you. Your legs lift you upward as you move to get off him, and in a moment, he flips onto his back and grabs your hips, forcing you to stay in place. For such a large elf, you never cease to be amazed at how dexterously he moves.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Halsin asks, smirking and raising a brow.

Tilting your head, you return the smile. “I figured you’d want to get right to sleep after such an exhaustive massage.”

His eyebrows shift and furrow, his fingers sliding down across your thighs and sending immediate heat through you.

“First,” he begins, his eyes traveling up your body, only serving to fill your cheeks with warmth, “I must show my thanks properly.”

[mumms-the-word]

he is enough

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Just some poetic thoughts about a certain handsome wizard who sometimes views himself as not having value when he absolutely does. Pic of my Tav Dani because that’s all I got. ao3 link

———

He is a man for whom grand gestures are as easy as breathing.

An evening in Waterdeep, conjured from the depths of a shadow curse. A night on the glimmering currents of the Outer Planes, your boat a small atom of light among an expanse of glowing stardust. He would create a castle out of amethysts for you, or find a way to pluck a single thread of the Weave to alter your fate if you asked.

All to prove his worth. His value. To show you his love and convince you that your love is not wasted on him.

And yet, you think, as you lay against him with his arms around you, his nose grazing the back of your shoulder, his breath ghosting across your skin, slow and even as he drifts off to sleep, you find in some ways that you prefer moments like this. When all the grand gestures fall away and you are left with these tiny little moments. These precious little touches.

Like freshwater pearls among glittering diamonds, you seek them out, irregular and imperfect, preferring their soft luster over the blinding glitter. You cradle them close to your heart, threading them together on a string, a poem of lines that are no more than broken moments, tiny gestures, little touches.

fingers grazing along your back  the kiss at the corner of your mouth his heartbeat under your palm calm, steady, quiet

You love to watch him when he isn’t looking, when he is wholly himself without the pressure to perform confidence for you. To study him the way he studies the pages of an arcane tome, seeking the secrets between lines.

his lines around his eyes between his brows the curve of his lips the length of his nose the sweep of his hair silver-threaded a hint of divinity among the mundane just like him 

Not that you’ve ever asked for his confidence or for a performance. You’ve only ever asked for a moment of his time. Posing questions just to hear him talk, watching as much as you listen.

his self-conscious smile halfway between arrogance and doubt arrogance of his knowledge doubt in your interest the way he looks off toward the horizon when his thoughts take him to planes you can scarcely comprehend  the way his eyes find their way back to you the instant he hears your voice or feels your touch you, like the Dog Star, guiding him home again

He worries at times, when he catches you watching him as he reads or studies or speaks, that he’s boring you. He thinks he needs to make grander gestures, that he just hasn’t found the thing that wows you yet. 

But while he ponders the wide expanse of the universe, wondering in which hidden corner he might find the one perfect thing to win your heart forever, you fill a universe of your own making with the sounds and sights and senses of him whom you love.

your littlest finger curled around his, a silent promise amid a busy day, a tiny link that chains the two of you together, the smallest constellation for the briefest moment his lips on your cheek, a teeny kiss made in passing as he moves by you, pulled momentarily by your gravity before roaming away, like a comet tugged temporarily into orbit

He would want you to focus on his abilities. His magic. The gestures he makes to cast his spells. The timbre of his voice as he shapes the incantations. The pull of the Weave as it bends to his will. You do notice. You do.

But there are other moments you find more precious. The tiniest things about him linger in your mind.

the steam that curls into the air

over the worn mug that holds his tea the one missing its handle the way his hand cradles the cup and turns it just so that his lips do not catch on the chip on the rim he's done this a hundred times before and yet you watch mesmerized

"When we get to Waterdeep, you'll want for nothing," he says, painting images of grandeur and splendor with an artist's brush, conjuring images of a dozen luxurious comforts. No more days spent aching from bedrolls on the ground. No more falling into exhausted sleep from a day of travel and battle. It's a lovely image, but so is he.

Just as he is.

You wish he'd see that. But his love for his goddess has taught him that he needs to constantly out-perform himself to retain your love and attention. That if he lets a day go by where he doesn't impress you, then he risks losing you forever. You wish he could glimpse, for just a moment, the way you see him.

a man mortal and aching but kind and sweet open-handed brimming with love just a man a good man whose heart and soul calls to your own just a man who doesn't need to do anything or be anyone more than who he already is because he is enough

You know it's hard for him to grasp the concept that he doesn't need to do anything to win your love. That he has it, wholly and freely given, no strings attached. It's the only theory you've ever known him to struggle with.

But when you take his hand and brush your lips against the backs of his knuckles; or you touch your forehead to his and sync your breaths in time with his; in the moments where I love you are the only words either of you have said for the last hour or more; you think you see the start of him realizing the truth you’ve already carved into the center of your heart.

He is already enough.

He will always be enough.

[hua-liansimp]

Ok but I need him I need more content of him he's the best murder lizard ever

[vampiresfromxenon]

I’ve come down with something really awful and nasty and I’ve spent most of my day in bed (whole body is in so much pain but that doesn’t stop the grind)

Leave it to me to think of cute Astarion fluff fics while I’m slightly delirious and wanting company to take care of me

Anyway nb! Tav (could be gn but I’m nb so deal w it) is very sick. All they can do is lie in bed, feeling like a sack of shit. They lie on their side, shivering even though the fire in their room is as hot as it can be and they’ve got as many layers and blankets as possible.

Astarion is scared to see his lover like this, as illnesses are now an unfamiliar territory to the undead man. He showers them with attention, helping them blow their nose and get them fed and hydrated. They panic, trying to be brave but they’re in so much pain that feels like it won’t go away. As they sob, he holds them tightly, trying to hide how upset he is to see them this miserable.

Later on they ask him to cuddle, hoping that touch may help heal their body aches and chills. However, with a high elf ice pack as a partner, Tav is a little worried about how his touch might make them feel. You can imagine their shock when he emerges from behind the dressing screen, head to toe in mis-matched clothing. Tav lets out a slight chuckle at the sight of him wearing a knitted mask that covers his whole head so that no part of his body touches them and sets them off. Crawling into the bed wearing mittens, a turtle neck, thick clothing, anything he could find, he shoves his discomfort aside. While they still feel like shit, he holds them close, hoping to keep them warm and safe while they finally get to rest.