#he will always miss the Durge

[randomfanner]

I believe that if they do add a romance for Gortash it shouldn’t be Durge only. Obviously I believe that but my main reason for it is this: if you are playing as Tav, Durge is dead. There is no way Durge is coming back because we find their corpse. Gortash is fucking lonely and dealing with loss which he doesn’t know how to handle at all.

so he tries to fill the void. He sees Tav as someone who can be his equal and he is trying so hard to find someone so he isn’t lonely again, because he doesn’t want to go back to that. I think Tav x Gortash romance route would be different than Durgetash and cover Gortash’s grief a lot more. And I would like to see it.

[voiceofthesilly]

Bhaalists have the dumbest fucking problems, or What if you were so similar, looking to show your devotion most wholly, because your father and god is all you have left. What if with the little heart you had left you wanted to spare your only sister the rejection of god, make sure she was perfect the entire time, and if it means you make her hate you so be it. What if she saw the compassion as your faith wavering and she was right . Still she should've bathed the streets in red and not thought about it any more than what the arm needs to drive the knife through a heart .

[teaandinanity]

This is SO interesting, my Dark Urge character in BG3 sometimes just.... does not have the moderate and sane options that my blank slate one did. I definitely feel like this ought to be a second playthrough NG+ kind of thing but also I’m having so much fun with him that I do not WANT to finish my other playthrough first. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[kaldurrr]

love my durge so much 🥺

[frantic-fiction]

Happy Birthday

(Gif: Alistairs)

Prompt: The gang throwing Spawn Astarion and Redeemed Durge a joint birthday party 😭

Credit to @bauldersgrave69 for letting me use their idea. Hopefully, you like it.

Astarion x F!Reader (Mostly Gender neutral but reader does wear a dress)

Warning: None. No spoilers just durge's memory lost and violent tendencies. This is pretty much pure fluff.

Word Count: 3.1k

It's been almost a year since you found yourself aboard a mindflayer ship, forcibly shoved into an adventure - one with life-changing choices. Choices that left you with a family not bonded through blood and torture, but one of trust, acceptance, and a chance to change something in yourself that you didn't fully comprehend when you woke up in that pod.

And the most important piece of the puzzle is currently walking next to you. As close as appropriate in public, moving away from the waterfront, Astarion would occasionally drop kisses on any exposed skin he could reach. But for the most part, he was content to hold your hand in his, just happy to be with the love of his life.

It was your date night. After the chaos had died down, you and Astarion had established this weekly tradition. Neither of your previous lives before the tadpoles allowed for much personal exploration or relaxation. The dates aimed to help take back both the agencies that had been torn away violently by cruel masters.

It was Astarion's week to choose the activity. He decided to push his boundaries just a bit and go dancing - not the stifling ballroom dances Cazador demanded be performed during various public events. No, Astarion wanted liveliness, drinks, and a wonderful band.

So, he bought a lovely pale yellow sundress from a stall by your apartment and added his personal style, ending with a beautiful garment - swirls and intricate patterns embroidered as accents. Donning himself in a dashing doublet, dark greys, and black accented with a similar shade of yellow.

The blushing mermaid was brilliant, the band jovial with pounding drums, and excellent lute and violin playing. Drinks were shared until heads were fuzzy. It took a bit for Astarion to work up the courage to dance, but he quickly offered his hand. The moment it was offered, your drink was down, and with a flushed face and a smile, you took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

The rest of the night was spent spinning and dipping until you were dizzy. You had never really danced, and if you had, that memory was lost and not worth finding. At times, you would stumble into a spin or out of a dip, but Astarion was always there to make sure you stayed on your toes with a firm hold.

When the energy of the night waned down and the band began to play a slower tempo, Astarion didn't hesitate to pull you flush against his body. His coolness was a pleasant contrast to the stuffiness of the mostly crowded tavern.

Astarion bent down to kiss you below your ear, whispering, "I don't think I will ever run out of thank yous."

"For dancing with a handsome man, I can say it was tiring but I'm having fun." The word is still a foreign concept, but one you and Astarion have become incredibly good at together.

"Yes, this night has been the best dancing I've done in years." You card your hand through his curls; his hand trails the curve of your spine. "But my thanks go beyond tonight, with you, my love. I have felt - you see I..."

Words seem not to be able to grasp what Astarion wants to say. So, he simply smiles and captures your lips in a kiss. Not everything needs words to express.

****

"My sweet, I believe we forgot dear Evelyn's oranges."

You had just entered the neighborhood where your house resided. It wasn't anything big; neither you nor Astarion liked the idea of a big space with rooms that would stay empty and cold.  

Thankfully, you came across Miss Evelyn, a sweet elderly gnome who owned a multifamily home. Her son had sadly died when the Absolute took Baldur's Gate. His wife and child went back to her parents, leaving Evelyn with a lot more space than she needed.

Astarion and you rented the upper portion of the home. The rent was cheap and you wish to pay more, and when you tried to explain just how much wealth you could spare, Evelyn shut it down immediately. She said that her price was fair and all she needed to make it for herself.

There was no room to argue after that, so you and Astarion took it upon yourselves to help her in any way she would allow - like getting oranges.

"I'll run out early before she wakes. Eve won't even notice."

"If you try to throw me on the chopping block again, I will not be making any cookies for a month."

"You would never!" You gasped, clutching your chest in dramatics.

"Don't tempt me, darling; I can be very stubborn." He said this, holding the gate to the property for you.

"Star, you know how her disappointed look makes me feel," the gravel crunched under your feet, the porch light to the house breaking through the dark.

"Yes, well, you'll just have to hope she made her bedtime." He kissed your cheek smugly and walked ahead, taking the stairs two at a time.

His shoes hit the wood boards of the porch when you heard, "Oh good evening Evelyn dear, I do have to apologize; my love completely forgot to get you oranges. By the time I realized their mistake, the vendor was already gone for the evening."

Handsome fucking asshole. Hands bunched up the skirt as you followed up the steps. He is going to have quite the time having any post-date fun with the way he's playing.

Making it to his side, Evelyn's in her chair, a basket of walnuts beside her. She didn't say anything for a moment, leaving only the crickets. Grabbing a walnut, she placed it on the table and slammed a hammer you did not see, cracking the shell before popping the flesh into her mouth.

"I figured, you two never get the things I want when it's your date night. Whatever, just get them tomorrow; your visitors gave me these walnuts so I'm not too bothered." The words were jumbled between almost toothless gums and walnut bits. A few pieces flew outwards with trails of spittle.

"Visitors?"

"Yeah, that little ragtag group you got. The bald one gave them to me. Told me something about 'Boo' thinking it would be polite since I let them break in and all."

Astarion and you met eyes, confusion reflecting each other's. Why was Minsc here?

"Did you plan something?" You asked.

"No," Astarion quickly turned to Evelyn, " I hope our little friends haven't been too much of a bother. Have a wonderful evening, my dear. Your oranges will be in your fruit bowl come morning."

He grabbed your hand and made for the stairs to your floor. Evelyn simply grumbled "They better be, pointy," before slamming the hammer down again.

You started to pull Astarion faster up the remaining stairs. But as soon as you reached for the door, Astarion halted you with an arm snaking around your middle. His mouth captured yours in a kiss, fast and heavy before you could even speak.

You melted. It's automatic, instinctual. You sigh carding you finger in his hair tugging on the roots. The orange incident quickly forgotten and the heavy annoyances with it. Not even the question of why your friends have broken into your home during date night mattered. His lips were gone too soon.

"I don't know about you, my sweet, but I believe our little weirdos have been very rude to us." He breathed into your ear before giving it a nibble. You nodded slightly, pulling his face to your neck. The he scrapes his fangs against you throat and you gasped

"I think they should have learned by now that I like to keep you to myself at night. And on our lovely date night, where you have been teasing me all night with this garment."

He pressed your back roughly against the door. The hinges whined against the force. You kiss him again, feeling his leg press between your legs. "And how am I to know that I shouldn't be ravishing you right here against this door."

"OKAY, OKAY. WE GET IT, ARESHOLE. DON'T INTERRUPT DATE NIGHT," Gale yelled.

"Maybe the next time we think about doing something nice for you two shits, I'll remember to bring earplugs," Wyll followed.

Astarion stepped you both back fully on your feet. "Maybe this time they will finally learn." Placing one last soft kiss on you cheek, he fully pulled away and moved to open the door.

You couldn't say what you had expected to see walking into your home. But this was not it.

Bright colors of balloons cluttering the floors, strings of paper tossed haphazardly around your living room. Your dining table is scatered with wrapped gifts and a frosted cake.

Each of your companions stood, all staring at Astarion and you, a mixture of disgust, excitement, and boredom (though that was mainly Lae'zel, who stood brooding in the farthest corner with a purple cone on her head). Oddly, they all had pointy hats tied to their heads. Even little Boo.

Scratch, who with all the excitement of seeing all of his friends back at his home, had begun to use his as a chew toy. Minsc pleaded with him to stop and seemed to be having a three-way conversation between the dog, Boo, and himself.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Karlach screamed as if the words had been burning in her mouth for hours. This had each and every one of your companions repeating the same phrase.

The shocked and confused looks Astarion and you shared must be very evident because Wyll was quick to jump in. “You both shared with us not knowing when your birthday was, so we’ve all decided what better time to celebrate than the start of our journey.”

This had Astarion's hand tightening in yours, his posture stiffening. Your heart hammered against your ribs, tears brimming over, trickling down flushed cheeks.

You don’t deserve this. The little voice echoes, the same voice that chokes you at night when you lay crying in Astarion's arms as he helps you calm from a panic attack. These people. This beautiful, caring family you stumbled upon was too good for such a broken, tainted person like you. To even think about this, planning a party with cake and presents simply to celebrate you and Astarion just living another year.

Him you understand; you had already been silently planning something similar for him for months. But it’s Astarion. The man who saved you, the one who reminds you each day that you are loved and safe and no longer the puppet of a cruel god. Yes, Astarion deserves to be celebrated and showered with gifts and affection. But you? The same person whose hands are stained so red with blood you still can’t comprehend the full extent of your depravity. No, you don’t think so.

"Well," Astarion’s voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath, clearing his voice. "I guess being the center of attention for the night should make up for postponing my plan to bend my beloved over the cou-"

This snaps you out of your self-deprecation. You clamp your hand over his mouth loudly saying, "Thank you guys; this is… well, this is just perfect."

You rip your hand away when you feel the wet glide of Astarion's tongue and the scratch of a fang. "Seriously," you groan, wiping your hand off on his chest before stepping away and walking up to give out your first of many hugs.

****

"You cheated, you fucking bastard!" Astarion points accusingly over the coffee table, glaring at Gale. "I can sense a spell; you're not as clever as you think, wizard!"

You rub his arms, silently telling him to chill but shooting a glare of your own at the man. "Not to mention Karlach is not a very good actor," you say bluntly, causing the tiefling to scoff in offense. "You know I love you, Kar, but you have never been a good liar. Gale, if you won't play by the rules, I won't be responsible if Star gets violent."

Getting up from the couch, you peck Astarion's cheek and collect the pile of dessert plates. Astarion stands to start his turn of charades, beginning to mime out his word as Gale, Wyll, Karlach, and even Lae'zel tries to guess. Though Lae'zel only seemed to guess various ways to harm an enemy.

Minsc has himself in a deep talk with Boo. The two sat close to the bay window where Halsin and Jaheria had found themselves in a game of chess. By the looks of it, Halsin was winning, and Jahiera was none too happy.

Placing the dishes in the sink, you quickly wash the cake crumbs and frosting off. You carelessly toss each on the drying rack, Astarion always hated when you did dishes always complaining of the many chips you keep putting in the ceramics. 

Once done, you walked up to Shadowheart where she was dividing the small pile of presents into two.

"Thank you," you said softly, catching the half-elf's attention. It had come to light that Shadowheart had been the one to bring the idea up. "This has been more than I ever expected."

"We're family," was all she said. And you guessed it was all that needed to be. Just a simple act of love for two people in a large, slightly dysfunctional family. You move automatically, practically tackling Shadowheart into a hug.

"This means more to Astarion and me than we'll ever be able to express." The two of you don't mention the hoarseness in your voice. And if Shadowheart felt a few tears drop on her collar, she doesn't say.

She simply hugs you back just as tight. Once you break away, Shadowheart calls for everyone to gather for presents.

It's a novel concept to open gifts while everyone stares on, waiting for expressions of happiness and thanks. It's awkward, and both Astarion and yourself share the feeling of being out in the deep end. But it's kind of fun.

You open boxes to find books and painting supplies (a hobby you picked up after you saved that rather stuck-up painter from the Zhentarim last year.) But the best is a medium-sized portrait of the party together, something you've been begging everyone for months to do. It's beautiful, and you are already thinking of the perfect location to hang it up.

Astarion receives new embroidery supplies, a shiny new dagger, and a small box. It's black velvet, and when he opens the hinged lid, a plain-looking copper band sits in the middle of a makeshift pillow.

Never one to hold his tongue, Astarion cheekily says, "Oh how quaint, look at this darling; doesn't it look just like the magic ring the tiefling boy tricked you with."

You shoulder him, and he laughs. "Actually, it's a bit more magical than that little trinket; we went to a lot of trouble for that thing, so hush," Jahiera scolds.

"Oh then please regale us with the story of this mysterious gift," Astarion smirks.

"They call it the Sunwalker's gift. It's a rare magical artifact that protects a person from light sensitivity," Shadowheart says.

It doesn't process for Astarion right away, but your breath instantly catches. You freeze in shock; how in the hells did they find this? You thought it was just a legend.

"Gale got a lead, and long story short, it's real, it's here. Fangs, you can walk in the sun mate." Karlach smiles bouncing on her feet, her flames flickering a bit brighter in her excitement.

"However, it's not perfect. You can still succumb to some effects of your hypersensitivity. But the ring should allow at least a solid 8 hours of sun exposure." Halsin quickly adds.

Astarion doesn't take his eyes off the ring. His pointer finger smooths over the tarnished band. He swallows dryly, blinking back tears as quick as they come. "This… this" he's lost for words, and no one rushes him. They all know. "Thank you, will you excuse me?"

He's gone before anyone can react. There is no judgment; everyone knows strong emotions are not something Astarion can process anywhere but alone or with just you.

"This is amazing. I'm pissed you didn't let me in on this surprise, but from both Astarion and I, thank you all." You motion for a hug and they all pile in. 

Astarion doesn't return, but no one expects him to. The party wraps up quickly after that; everyone says their goodnight and departs into the night. You lock up the house and retreat to the bedroom. He sits by the window, staring out into the silent city. He's shirtless, his pale skin ethereal in the moonlight. The ring dances across his knuckles absentmindedly, his chin in his other hand.

You make your footsteps purposefully loud as you approach the vampire. Your hands snake themselves around him, caressing his smooth skin of the chest. He catches the ring and turns his face to meet your eyes. You push some hair out of his eye. He's been crying.

"Hey handsome," you smiled, kissing his lips. He turns towards you. Pulling you on to his lap and cups you face. There's no rush to the dance of your lips. Just soft brushes and tongue caress. You pull away panting. 

"Gods, I'll never get tired of this."

"Good cause I'm quite smitten with you." You grab his hands, taking the ring from his palm. You slide it onto his left ring finger, the magic tightening the metal to fit perfectly. You press a soft kiss to it sliding off. "Now come; I want to cuddle."

He helps rid you of your dress, slipping on one of his shi in replacement. You both slide under the sheet, Astarion pulls you onto his chest, strong arms enclosing you. Your head is tucked under his chin. He presses a kiss to your hairline whispering I love you.

You play with his hand, taking it off and putting it on each finger, watching it shift to fit each one. It was quiet for a while. Both of you are just soaking in each other. 

"Our family," Astarion says quietly, his chest rumbling under your ear. You drop his hand and look up. He has a look of pure love. "The term has been one that has only caused me pain for 200 years. To think I would find a new one that could contest 200 years of shit is…pleasant. Something I didn't expect to have again"

You smile brightly, grabbing his face and pressing your lips back onto his. "We really lucked out, didn't we. Now how about we get some sleep, and in the morning, we go get Evelyn's oranges together."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just running his hand down your spine, stopping at the swell of your bum and back up again. He kisses you again. "There is nothing I'd like more."

Feedback is welcome and always makes me smile, hate does not! Have a nice day, cheers!

[calculatedklown]

It's completely baffling that Gortash is the only one of the chosen three with whom we don't get to have any dialogue regarding the information we uncover about him.??

Spoiler warning maybe lol

Like with Orin, we can mention her upbringing or the fact that she's a child of incest. Try to convince her that she's just been abused her whole life? Like obviously this changes nothing in the end. But it still matters that its mentioned.

Ketheric, we also can try and convince him to change his ways. Mention his wife, his religion, Isabelle. Literally mention everything we find out to try and convince him to turn a new leaf. Which also doesn't change any outcome. But I appreciate that its there.

But GORTASH??? We get absolutely NOTHING, it's absurd! It's baffling that we can't even touch on his backstory—like finding his parents,(possibly killing them depending on what you do) being sold to Raphael as a child, or the fact that he was scammed at one point. All the intriguing details we uncover about him lead to nowhere, and it's so annoying 😩

Like this isn't even just because I enjoy him as a character. It just seems like such a missed opportunity to find out more about him currently as a person!

The dialogue we encounter while trying to convince Ketheric and Orin reveals a profound insight into their true characters. Their reactions are telling and provide a unique perspective on who they are as individuals!

Ketheric fully recognizes the person he has become. He understands that he is a lost cause, fully acknowledging the wrongs he has committed and the irreparable damage he has caused. He accepts his fate without hesitation. Despite your words.

Orin lashes out in denial, and becomes completely manic (more so than her usual self). Completely baffled and distraught.

I want to know how Gortash would react if you brought up his parents or his childhood! It's a possibility he wouldn't be grateful if you slayed his parents; in fact, he would likely view any sympathy as a weakness and respond with anger or dismissiveness. Plus, we’ll never find out his true response to Durge after you say, “I always liked you.”

“Is that what you-”

I don't understand these missed opportunities with him?? Like I get keeping some ambiguity to an extent. Its why we will never get a clear answer into him and durges relationship…..BUT I WOULD LIKE A CRUMB OF HIM PLEASE!! I DONT EVEN NEED A KISSY SCENE! I JUST WANT ANY INSIGHT INTO HIS OWN OPINION ON HIS PAST IF ITS MENTIONED!

If you read all of this rambling…..please tell me what YOU think his possible response would be to any of these scenarios lmao please

[mind-player]

Purge

Durge is beginning to wonder whether it matters if they make it to Bhaal's temple and if it would be better for the others if they didn't.

And Astarion, despite your constant protests, cannot helplessly stand by and watch as you pour out the contents of your stomach and then eventually all of your questioning thoughts along with it.

Warning! Suicidal thoughts/questioning

Words: 2,040

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Astarion was quick to wake from his trance just from the absence of your presence at his side. He felt the place with cold fingers, realizing the blankets still had some of your warmth. The fire everyone circled around in their bedrolls was freshly tended, alive again with a new log added to the flames. 

The vampire quietly got up to avoid disturbing the other companion's rest and began to sense where you might've run off. He strained his ears, and it didn't take long for him to pick up the sound of a specific someone retching in the distance of the forest. Astarion made haste, not wanting to let you suffer alone for a second. 

A selfish part of him wanted to tell you again that it was alright to snap him awake whenever this happened, but he was fast to conclude that the morning would have to do. As much as he's gently brought it up, he did also understand your discomfort at the thought of him seeing you throw up last night's dinner. 

But still, they were in this together, Bhaal be damned. And he knew you wouldn't hesitate to do the same for him. Hells, you've asked him for a kiss even when he was covered in blood and viscera, his hair more than just slightly askew, and his face sore with cuts and bruises. Sure, he couldn't look into a mirror, but he could still feel that the grime and exhaustion were evident to anyone at camp.

Didn't matter to you, though. You would call Astarion beautiful every time, and he'd readily call you a liar. And you'd say with a smile as golden as your heart, "Prove it." 

He never could. 

Astarion finally came upon the vision of you keeling over on your knees. Your hand was your only leaning support, pale and clammy from the night's cold on a tree stump. The only contrast was the red and scabbing marks around your wrist from being tied up every other night. 

"Don't look," you croaked, your voice hoarse and tired, ready to deny his help. 

It was rare that you would let yourself sleep sometimes, especially after what happened to that poor bard you so eagerly let join camp without even a hint of suspicion on your mind. Astarion was irritated by your being so open and careless, and all you had to say was that you missed the sound of a bard's music. 

And you were punished for it. 

Astarion remembered the last day you would ever trust your body around anyone. Not even your thoughts were safe in your mind, for fear of them crawling out and unleashing murder upon your companions and, God's forbid, on Astarion. Even the idea of that happening made you ill, but your mind would force you to see it in your dreams, and your slinking Bhaal butler would provoke the strength of your will.

It was only inevitable and natural that you'd be sick to your stomach with all that on your shoulders, your mind. 

"You think this is the worst I've witnessed in my two hundred years?" the elf questioned, and he chose not to move forward, not without further consent. 

"No," you answered truthfully, letting your hand slide down the rough bark for you to fall back on the balls of your feet. 

"Then please let me help you." 

"I," you started, taking a shaky breath. "I don't think you can." 

Astarion could tell from your voice alone you were on the brink of tears. And as much as the vampire just wanted to take all of that pain away and rip it to nothing but shreds, kill any God that causes it, and ascend himself victorious so that it could never happen again, he couldn't. Not yet. He remained where he stood. 

"What do you mean, my love?" he questioned softly when you didn't continue. He could always be sincere with you when you so effortlessly were, especially in such moments. 

"I just hate this," you responded, nearly crying aloud. "I know you said we can fight this together. And I want to. Gods, I want to. But sometimes, I just wish my mind would stop for a second. Just to let me be me around you. The me that you know and the one I want to be. But I don't think I ever will." 

He didn't say anything, letting you say what he couldn't bear. 

"I'm going to die," you whispered, giving out and leaning onto your side. "And if my body doesn't, I know whoever was on this journey with you definitely will. So what does it matter if it all just stops now?"

Astarion almost couldn't believe his ears. Such a dreadful question slipped through the lips of an angel who soothed everyone's worries and selflessly promised devotion to countless others regardless of their own self-preservation. 

Some say vampires are unfeeling creatures with no heart, none that craves to beat for anything other than the thrill of power. But, of course, if anyone ever proved them wrong, it was you. 

And if there was anyone to tell Astarion he was worth more than his looks, his body, and his charm, that he was a person just like everyone else who could be valued, trusted, and loved so readily, it was most certainly you. You were the only one to give him even the slightest hope of defeating someone he had revolved around for two centuries. You were the only one to tell him he could finally stop surviving and start living. 

You were the hope of every tiefling, your companions, and him. Hearing you, seeing you finally break, was enough to bring him to his knees, and the thought of genuinely losing you made his heart fall. But not for one second was this only about him. 

A silence fell over the two of you until he finally gathered his words. 

"When I discovered you, I remember being so furious. After all, how could there be people like you out here all this time? Just waiting to save someone's life, end their torment, their worries," he tried to explain without his voice trembling. 

"You were so naive yet so relentlessly kind, constantly worrying about right and wrong, weighing every decision and then being the one to bear the consequences of them, all on your shoulders. And not once did you expect anything in return from anyone.

"So, please, consider when I hear you ask if it matters if you keep existing in this world, even if it's for a moment longer, that it does. Gods, it does. It's indisputable. Because this world is already so starved of people like you," he said, his chest aching with every word. 

Hot tears threatened to well in his eyes, tears he hadn't known since he was still in that wretched dungeon being tortured alive. 

Astarion couldn't stop thinking about you being lost forever compared to so many other evils they've slain along their journey. There were so many in this world who no one would miss, who no one would even consider a moment to remember, and Astarion thought that, with all his faults, he might as well have been on that list, too. 

But everyone would most certainly miss you. Probably would throw thousands of flowers on your grave each year, speak exciting stories of your adventures with all you've done, put up a statue of you, and honor you for centuries to come. 

He would so desperately miss you. When the others finally abandoned him and left him to his own devices or back with Cazador, he would have forgotten how to love again, knowing that you were the only one he could care for. 

Astarion watched as the hand that supported you on the ground clenched, intertwining your calloused fingers into the grass. You turned your body to finally face him, shining tears from the firelight staining your cheeks. 

And all of that and everything else he could've said to convince you otherwise must've been conveyed in just one look because he was finally seeing you. Your sweat-damp brow was furrowed in pain, your white-knuckled grip released the delicate blades of grass, and all your pain from your stomach to your head and mind was brewing behind your reddened eyes. Tired eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you eventually cried with shoulders quivering, and it was all Astarion needed to come crawling over to hold you in his arms. "I didn't– I shouldn't have–"

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all," Astarion vehemently told you, shaking his head. "Everything that's been asked of you forced onto you, would test anyone." 

You wept, sniffled, and apologized, and the cycle repeated, but Astarion never once ran out of quiet, comforting whispers. 

It continued until it eventually came to a slow end, with you resting your head on his shoulder and his hand rubbing against yours. Your legs were numb from how long you both had sat there in that forest and if you could feel, maybe even a little cold- not because of Astarion. Never because of him. 

While basking in the comfortable silence that befell both of you, you still couldn't help but sigh and shake your head. 

"What is it, my love?" he asked so gently as if the words alone would make you fall apart again. You never hated yourself more for dumping your doubts, worries, and dreads on him. 

"It's stupid," you said, actually meaning that you were stupid in a sense. 

"Try me."

You hid your face further into the crook of his shoulder, feeling that familiar warmth spread across your cheeks. 

"I just remembered how much I didn't want you to ever see me throw up... and you get something ten times worse."

Astarion laughed and said, "Compared to the monstrous atrocities we've seen throughout this journey, this is more akin to sunshine and a bed of fresh roses. I don't mind."

"Really?" 

"Yes."

You squinted in suspicion at him and persisted, "Not even a little?" 

Astarion quirked a brow. 

"Well, I could do without the snot on the only shirt I possess," he joked, earning that gorgeous smile he missed so dearly, "but if it means you're still here, together with me, then no, I genuinely don't mind. I'm not going anywhere." 

The latter part of his words sounded so irrefutable and clear to your ears that you almost forgot everything ahead. 

"Even if I turn into a monster?" you asked him.

"The day you turn into a monster is the day that bears will fly," he answered, silently thinking about how different you were compared to him. "But if that still somehow manages to happen, then what's the harm of being monsters together?" 

"That'd be so terrible," you told him, shaking your head with a smile. 

This was nice. Your dark thoughts were quelled and momentarily replaced with the idea of you and Astarion, the future you two could have if you somehow managed to live through all this. What would it be like, you wondered. 

You imagined a house somewhere in the city, perhaps a townhouse. You'd both live messily; all the treasures you hoarded over this journey would be scattered everywhere when first moving in. Curtains would be closed, but you'd like to imagine them open with a smiling Astarion basking like a cat in the sun he adored. 

Alive again. With your love's heart beating so strongly with your ear pressed up against his naked chest as you both lounge in bed, doing nothing in particular. 

Then it crossed your silly mind that you wanted that. You wanted to see that someday, even if it might not have been in the cards for you. But when have the chances ever not been slim? And how many times did you beat them until now? 

That future, that hope, was enough to fight for. 

That acquainted quiet settled once more before you finally whispered a vow only to him, "I'll defy him. Whatever it takes." 

Even if it meant dying. 

"As will I," he answered, and you knew who he spoke of. One day, both of you might be free- truly free. 

[darkenedurge]

. Couldn’t stop thinking about the idea that Gortash likely thought Durge was dead, until Orin confirmed otherwise – so, I got in my feelings and decided to write Gortash being heartbroken because I love angst just as much as I love raunchy shit.

.

Enver clung to the last shred of her he had left. A petty thing, it was, a single shirt – worn, torn, and not the most glamorous thing she’d ever owned. Though, it was often she slept in it – he’d given it to her after all. It had once been his. It was saturated in her scent, intermingled with a hint of his own – ink from his desk splattered the sleeve edges, an inevitable result of her being bent over his desk during particularly heated nighttime rituals. They weren’t always dirty, weren’t always spontaneous, but sometimes blood runs hot.

Enver missed her. Her warmth, her voice. Everything, lest he list it all. His chest tightens as he takes another, sharp, deep inhalation of her scent – the fabric pressed firmly to his nose. He chokes, on a sob or two, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Orin, naturally, had ruined everything. She’s good at that, making the world around you collapse with a simple swing of her blade. Though, it hadn’t just been a swing. Orin had butchered her, mutilated her. Years, months, weeks, days, hours of their time together, succumbed to her hand. Yet another sob is strangled from his throat at the thought, and he feels like he’s suffocating. Drowning.

If it weren’t for duty, for his commitment, Enver surely would have joined her by now. Perhaps in a kinder fashion, he’d never shared her creativity, nor passion for the sanguine arts. He was glad for that, he loved that about her. No, he’d likely spike his own wine with poison – or perhaps drive a blade through his chest. Whatever it took.

But no. He’d suffer your absence at his side tonight, and every night thereafter. Enver was assured he could, at the very least, bury himself in work – perhaps work himself into the grave, even. Anything, that minimised her domination of his brain space.

He knew he’d be lucky if he slept. It’s rare he could, without her. She’d always rake her pretty, slender fingers through his hair – over and over until his eyes fluttered, coming to a close. Still, she wouldn’t stop until she was certain he was taken by the soft, sweet lull of sleep – and even then, her hands remained on him somewhat.

An arm draped over his waist, her head on his chest. Anything, just be touching.

This all felt horrendously cruel. Unreal. In his head, Enver had gutted Orin a thousand times over, and then a thousand times more. Yet, his sick fantasies wouldn’t bring her back. Nothing could.

[xxnashiraxx]

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

Word Count: 6,119

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

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

divider here!

AO3 | Song Reference: Let it Snow!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll still take it.”

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Unwrap me?” She whispers.

“Yes,” He breathes.

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

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

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

“Nin anor,”

[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.

[farthaz]

I was thinking about Shadowheart and the PC's cottage functioning as the central hub and meeting point post-game. Like the all would gather there, at the same time or not, and spend some relaxing days with the family:

Karlach: Once her engine is finally repaired, she visits her friends and stays with them for a long while, just relaxing and enjoying farm life. Until her hunger for exploration leads her to the roads again; but always finds her way back to the family

Wyll: Even if Karlach's engine is repaired already, The Blade of Avernus has many unfinished businesses in the Hells, so he returns to his duties after resting at the cottage, learning to make pastries with Shadowheart and telling them stories from his adventures. Arnell becomes a great fan of the Blade, and always lends him his ears

Lae'zel: Once her people are free and she can take a short vacation from her duties (or what she considers vacation anyway lol) she visits them, probably finding Karlach there too, and puts both Tav/Durge and Shadowheart in shape again. Too much meddling with animals and vegetables and too little maintaining their skills... For her standards lol.

Jaheira: The city eventually overwhelms her again and before tackling any new adventure, she visits the cub and their family. She bonds with Emmeline over plants and garden maintenance, becoming great friends.

Halsin: He can take only a small break from the Towers before the kids miss him too much. Every time he visits, he brings them gifts from nature: seeds, grown plants, exotic fruits, or homemade ham, which he teaches Shadowheart how to make.

Astarion: Rarely shows up, and always at night, pranking them or pretending to be a thief; until Shadowheart very seriously threatens him for scaring the cats. He brings the best vintages stolen from the Upper city and all the juicy gossip from the streets and the political sphere of Baldur's Gate.

Gale: Professor Gale doesn't have that much time available, but makes sure to visit his dear friends during holidays, taking Tara with him (and the best spices in the realms!). Tara isn't very sure about the whole ordeal with so many animals xD but she enjoys her time there, especially in the summer.

Isobel & Aylin: The moon lesbians throttle the realms, helping people and bringing hope to those who need it. Every now and then, they stop by the cottage for a few days. Dame Aylin always gets Tav/Durge and Shadowheart drunk, and it falls to Isobel to help them with hungover.

That would be all I can think about for now. I just want them to be happy and maintain their bond.

[shaykai]

Okay okay okay consider Durgetash tether AU

Gortash & Durge are messing around with an artifact (from Mephistopheles’ vault?) and it ends up tethering them together (like Legend of Spyro- they can only move so far away from each other and the tether isn’t visible unless it’s actively being strained or interacted with)

They can’t figure out how to deactivate it, antics ensue (they can’t hurt each other while it’s active?)

Gortash has to put up with Durge being present in all of his meetings and just praying to god they behave themselves and don’t try to maim anybody/that nobody takes too much interest in their presence

There’s also the Urge- Gortash knows about it but now he actively has to help in dealing with it- whether that be going on murder sprees far too often for his liking or finding out the unfortunate consequences of neglecting it

Them getting weirdly close and open because they kind of have to be to function

Neither of them have easy access into their respective cult spaces/temples anymore- bringing a Banite into Bhaal’s temple is basically a heresy.

That being said, Durge can only stay away for so long before it’s problematic- it looks bad when they’ve been missing for a week and the last time they were seen was with Gortash.

Jump cut to Durge forcing Gortash to wear normal cultist attire and telling him to keep his mouth shut lest somebody recognize his voice.

Something about Orin cornering Durge and asking where they’ve been before realizing there’s a ‘cultist��� just. Standing there. Djdjdjjdjdjd Naturally she threatens to kill him if he doesn’t leave and Durge has to hurry up and make excuses and then probably run away with Gortash before Orin can clock that it’s him

Sceleritas is one of the only people who knows the situation and is tirelessly searching for a solution so that his “beloved Durge can be free of their greasy leach”

Something something people clocking that it’s weird that they’re always so close to each other (gonna say they can’t be more than 10 feet apart)- more so at places like Moonrise where nobody knows who Durge really is and want to know who it is that’s following Gortash around

Gortash having to deal with the gnolls because Durge refuses to leave them alone

Also Durge getting somewhat familiarized with mechanics and learning how they work

Ketheric genuinely not knowing that they’re tethered together for entirely too long

Balthazar being a problem if he ever finds out because he wants to do science

Also them having to learn how to fight while being stuck together

Something about their walk speeds being different- Gortash has a cane for a reason and it takes Durge a while to stop speed walking everywhere. (Gortash can match their pace, but after a while it does take a toll)

Messy sleeping arrangements

Them having to deal with each other’s triggers/really bad days TM

[mumms-the-word]

I guess it’s just me, but I always thought about the Drow foursome was uncomfortable for Gale. He says he doesn’t want to and then you have to persuade him into doing it, which feels very icky and a bit manipulative. He then leaves his room and leaves his mirror image behind to take notes. I don’t think I could ever be convinced Gale actually enjoyed it fully, I know the narrator said he did but idk… feels wrong.

This is even trickier given the changes Larian has made to the scene where you actually get Gale to agree to a foursome. You can’t win either way because people complained about the persuasion check that used to be in the conversation and then people complained when it got taken away.

(And I’ll be honest, I haven’t played the game in a while and I haven’t romanced Gale since that change was made so all of my thoughts are pretty vague right now)

But setting aside the lead-up…I don’t know. Some scenes in games, movies, and literature you have to take in the spirit in which they were written. The drow foursome is obviously meant to be humorous for some companions. Like a slapstick sex comedy, all the lights are off, Halsin turns into a bear, Gale summons a formal-talking simulacrum/illusion and then glows in the corner, Shadowheart cracks flirty jokes, and everyone has a laugh!

Except, well, it doesn’t exactly stick the slapstick landing for everyone and Astarion’s scene has variations of trauma/disassociation written in, so…where does that leave us with Gale?

There’s something to be said about voyeurism and the excitement of watching your lover receive pleasure—but only if you’re into that sort of thing and not everyone is. Gale repeatedly explains that in no uncertain terms that he is not the sharing type. He doesn’t want to share you with Halsin, he talks about your love and your relationship as a lifelong bond that he cherishes and expects you to honor and cherish too, and he will break up with you if you cheat with Mizora.

And that’s fine! People love that! I love that! I am also no-sharing kind of person and romancing Gale is a masterclass in you (or Tav/Durge) getting absolutely cherished.

So…yeah it’s weird that you can coerce/convince Gale to have a foursome with you, and weirder still that the game wants you to believe that Gale prefers to watch you get railed by two other people (three if you count his simulacrum) while he tends to his own needs in the corner. Weirdest factor is that Gale is…okay with it all?

It’s one of those moments where the narration isn’t convincing because all evidence of his character points to the contrary. And it’s okay to not trust the narrator. It’s okay to get to the end of that scene and go “I don’t think Gale actually enjoyed that.” Heck, I did the scene for funsies back when it was a persuasion check and afterwards I reloaded my save and was like “we never did that actually” because it was just so…weird to me. It left me uncomfy for reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, so just reloaded and retconned the whole thing in my head.

I’ve seen other people justify the scene and make some good points. But I think it was just a swing and a miss from the writers, one that they made a little worse by listening to fans and trying to adjust it further, rather than dial it back. But that’s just my opinion!

[y-rhywbeth2]

I know we sickos all love the tragic memory of Durge killing their parents as a child, but honestly - as a lover of interpreting Durge as a tragic eldricht horror cuckoo/changeling creature - my favourite memory is baby Durge playing tag with the other children in a "time before Bhaal".

They're being gentle with their friends, but the narration explicitly describes them as hunting and compares them to a predator. If Durge pities their child self the narration just goes: "Mayhaps that child was already a murderer." "Oh, sorry, did you think this was a happy memory?" asks the game before it points and laughs at your naivete.

You pair that with the little cuckoo killing their foster parents and it's very much like somebody took in a baby predator. Sure, it hasn't grown into its claws and aggression but then we reach the starting point of puberty and suddenly the once cuddly baby is a danger to everyone around it.

Oh, except that apparently there's a chance that Durge was already killing things as a baby!

We know they were aware of Sceleritas following them around when they were young, occasionally talking to them as he does in the dead family memory - even if he hadn't presented himself yet. Even if he doesn't always speak, did Durge grow up seeing him out of the corner of their eye?

The fun thing about Durge is that we get to make our own character out of the scraps we're given, so all of it is up to us to decide for our own characters/playthroughs.

I interpret Durge as being like the Bhaalspawn we meet in Throne of Bhaal, Gavid, and the 3.5e tieflings - they've always known they were different. Always had dark urges and whispers in their mind, coming from the essence in their blood.

Kids have accidents around them, pets go missing. Maybe they have black outs, maybe they're aware but can't stop (small children aren't exactly masters of impulse control). We know from a later memory that Durge feels self-hatred regarding their urges, so presumably they learnt enough to know this is wrong and feel guilt. Do they still feel pain and nausea if they resist? I'm going to assume for my own take that since they got the Urge back then, they did.

I wonder if their family ever took them to wizards and clerics, trying to find out if their child was cursed?

Then that family dies. Violently. Graphically. Another tragic accident taking place around the twitchy weird kid who sees monsters and hears voices.

If you play paladin then the Oathbreaker Knight tells you that you've broken your oath multiple times, so I assume that these disasters didn't stop happening.

And judging from the fact that they showed uncharacteristic compassion to a homeless person at the peak of their "I'm such an evil bastard villains like Elder Brains and the God of Tyranny are impressed" era, I think that Durge ended up homeless themselves at some point between losing their parents and joining the temple (I'm also pretty sure that's the period of their life the cannibalism memory happened in).

And then they "came of age" (I recall the age of majority being 15 in the Realms at some point, but can't find that anywhere so don't take my word for it) and Sceleritas introduces himself, and it's time for a family history lesson that explains everything and Orin gets a sibling she absolutely never wanted, ever - put that thing back in the ditch it came from, so help me.

[save-a-forest-ride-a-bear]

🗒꒰⸝⸝₊ Masochism Tango ❛ ✧

Featuring: Gortash x Durge! Reader

Not proofread!

# Notes: cw for descriptions of violence and gortash being a freak. also as usual with my drabbles, no use of "y/n" and I try to describe the reader's dialogue and actions as little as possible

He'd be lying if he said he didn't decide to throw a ball only for the slim possibility of them showing up.

They hated him. That much was obvious. He could see it in their eyes during the coronation — that burning wrath and bloodlust that always made him weak in the knees. He couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking of. Maybe slashing his throat open, only to lap up the blood with their tongue. He hoped so. He revels in their aggression, even when it's directed towards him. Especially when it is.

The first hour of the ball was excruciating — having to pretend he cared about whatever the rest of Baldur's Gate's bourgeoisie were yapping about while apprehensively looking around, searching for the only thing in the world that mattered to him at that moment.

Just when he was starting to lose hope, he spotted them in a corner. The sight alone almost made him groan. Gods, how could they look even more beautiful, all dolled up just to see him. Or so he hoped, at least. He had to fight back the urge to just shove everyone out of his way, to go over to them and...

The band began to play before he could finish his thoughts, and he took that as the perfect opportunity. He sauntered over with confidence and elegance, ignoring the other guests with his eyes focused solely on them. Their little friends were nowhere to be seen, either. Even better.

They seemed uncomfortable, restless even, their fingers twitching slightly. Probably aching for their blade, he thought, and a grin formed on his lips. It's been so long, but they haven't changed a bit. He reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around their wrist and pulling them towards him before they even noticed his presence to slim the chances of being rejected.

"Good evening, my dear. I was starting to think you wouldn't come. Care for a dance?" It was supposed to be a question, but he didn't make it sound like one. He knew they'd say no, so he had to make it clear they didn't have a choice — just the way they were looking at him right now made it clear they were currently fantasizing about bashing his head into his neck. He smirked at that, dragging them firmly but not forcefully with him towards the dance floor. He wanted them angry — wanted them to want to hurt him.

He placed a hand on their waist, the other intertwined with theirs as he waltzed with them to the soft ballad playing in the background. "I rather missed this, you know. You used to be a most splendid dance partner, my treasure." He whispered, gazing deeply into those beautiful, livid eyes of theirs that seemed to bewitch him all the same as they did in the past. He didn't tell them the exact nature of their old relationship, but it was very much implied. He knew they could put two and two together.

Losing them hadn't been as easy as he desperately tried to pretend it was. He tried to pretend it didn't bother him, that it was just business as usual, that his heart didn't ache at the thought of never seeing them again — but whatever happened between the two flourished into something much deeper than he'd care to admit. And then, just when things were going well, they vanished. Just like that. They vanished and left him behind, alone, with Orin of all bloody people supposed to replace them. As if she could even hold a candle to them.

He tried his best to lie to himself — it was a good thing they were gone. They were making him soft, weak. He couldn't afford any distractions. And he actually believed those lies for a while. You can convince your mind of almost anything if you repeat it enough times.

But no amount of self-inflicted dishonesty could help ignore the flutter in his chest when they walked into the coronation room. He was almost giddy — even while trying his best to act professional, anyone could see that if he had a tail, it would be wagging at that moment. But after confirming they had lost their memories, a rush of conflicting emotions washed over him. On one hand, they didn't remember him. Didn't remember what they shared together, didn't remember his touch. On the other, this was his chance to finally try again — to make things right. World domination be dammed, it's not worth ruling over without them to share the throne with him, and it took losing them to realize that. They left the coronation without giving him a clear answer to his proposition to kill Orin, and that was that.

But now they were here — in his arms once again. Well, technically not yet, not entirely at least, but it was just the beginning. And he wouldn't stop until they were his again, body, mind and soul.

A small cackle escaped him as they purposefully stepped harshly on his foot, clearly trying to confront him without causing a scene. "You look awfully tense, my dearest. Almost as if you want to dismember me. You'd rather like that, I wager." He mused, spinning them to the rhythm of the song before pulling them back against him. "If you managed to, I imagine it would be quite the spectacle. A thrill, really. But you can't live without your tyrant, can you?" He taunted, the smirk on his face never fading.

"You still have that fire in you. I missed it." He admitted, leaning in to whisper so that his words were for their ears alone. "But we both know I'm not afraid of you, dearest. If anything, you're the one that should be concerned." He motioned around vaguely, eyes never leaving theirs. "I control this city. One wrong move, and I'll have my Steel Watch take care of you. That would truly be a shame, would it not?"

The threat was empty, of course. He had no plans of harming them, no matter what they said or did, but he always quite enjoyed pushing their buttons, seeing what makes them tick, how much it takes for them to break.

He pulled them closer, pressing them flush against his chest, lips grazing their ear. "So why don't you try that again? Threaten me. Hurt me. Say you'll kill me if I don't do as you say. I promise I won't run away." He breathed out, his hand reaching up to caress their cheek gently, pulling their face towards his. "I'll beg for it. Crave it. Just as I always did. Show me how much you hate me, my treasure. Remind me of our history."

There was an unmistakable twinge of desperation in his voice. He needed this in ways he never needed anything else in his life — needed them to crave him, to hurt him all over again, to make him bleed. It was a yearning so strong he was sure it would swallow him whole. Which is why he pressed his lips against theirs despite his better judgement to keep teasing, keep pushing. He couldn't wait any longer.

What he wasn't expecting was the reciprocation and much less the harsh bite on his lower lip, strong enough he could taste his blood on their tongue. He moaned into their mouth, hands settling on their hips to pull them even closer. He did miss this.

It was hungry, sloppy, open-mouthed, but he still found it perfect. One hand rose to cup their cheek, and when they finally parted, gasping softly for air, he brushed it against their lower lip, smearing the remains of blood before slipping it inside their mouth. "That's better." He whispered, his voice husky. He felt their tongue against his digit before their teeth once again sank down on his flesh, and he groaned with a grin.

"Let's find somewhere more private, my pet. I believe we have some catching up to do."

[rosys-fans-fics]

How Gortash reacts to Durge’s new lover Part 2

Part 1 here!

Thanks to @rainbow-spinelli13 for requesting this!

Halsin

Gortash is really taken aback by this big, tree hugging, bear standing right behind you. This is what attracted The Chosen of Bhaal? Gortash gets the physical attraction, he wouldn’t mind climbing Mount Halsin himself. But he never expected his love to fall for someone so devoted to nature.

Halsin’s physical attractiveness is the only good quality of his, on every other front, him and Gortash clash. Gortash loves engineering and advancing technology while Halsin loves nature and traditional hobbies. Gortash sees himself as the greatest having never done any wrong while Halsin is always second guessing his choices.

But more than a personality clash, Halsin makes Enver feel something he hates feeling, insecure. Halsin is so much bigger, more experienced, and doesn’t have a clear flaw for him to exploit.

Gortash hates feeling less than someone, his whole climb to Archduke was to feel above everyone else. Only to have someone come in who has taken the most important person from him. He hates it.

Halsin isn’t keen on Gortash and will advice you against reconnecting with him. This tips Gortash over the edge and gives him the push to get Halsin out of the picture. If he can’t be better than Halsin, then he’ll make sure the only thing he’s competing with is a corpse.

Part of Gortash wants to believe that you chose Halsin because he reminded you of himself. A strong leader giving his all but he doubts that’s the reason.

Karlach

Gortash has to laugh at the dramatic irony of your pairing. His former body guard not only fighting along side his nearest and dearest but becoming your lover? He has to laugh at it.

That amusement quickly turns to anger once he realizes that neither of you are grateful for what he did for Karlach. He took an up and coming youth and gave her the opportunity to truly become powerful. And you not realizing that just shows how far you’ve fallen.

Gortash would reveal that you actually agreed to send Karlach to Zariel 10 years ago because you thought she couldn’t protect him. He’d even exaggerate to drive a wedge between you two.

Gortash likes to think that you fell for Karlach because you missed how he protected you. Perhaps you saw him in a similar light and subconsciously craved to be with someone strong again. It’s just a shame that you chose Karlach.

He’s willing to let you both back into his life but only if you and Karlach acknowledge how great he’s been for both of you.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel reminds Gortash of what you were like before disappearing. Blunt, murderous, and singleminded in her goals. Gortash is disappointed that you chose someone similar to yourself instead of him but beggars can’t be choosers.

Lae’zel’s intense loyalty to the Gith is something Gortash believes he can manipulate. Perhaps he can turn that loyalty toward himself and Bane? Or he may find a way to get her out of your life.

If you and Lae’zel get the Orphic hammer by killing Raphael and then kill the Emepror? Gortash is more than ready to welcome Lae’zel in as the third wheel. She may never be as beloved as his favorite but she does have a certain charm to her. Killing an abusive father figure is probably the hottest thing only could do.

Gortash is not threatened by Lae’zel being your new lover. Of course you are with her because she reminds you of your old self! And the sooner you become your old self, the happier Gortash will be.

Any pushback Lae’zel tries to use will be seen more as a toddler throwing a fit that their favorite toy is being taken away rather than a serious issue. She should be honored to view this match of two chosen above everyone and only equal to eachother.

Shadowheart

Shadowheart is another person Gortash feels jealous of. To have parents that love you so much to go through decades of torture? Even willing to sacrifice themselves for her freedom? That’s something Gortash wants so deeply that he’s willing to tadpole his parents so they’ll say they’re proud of him.

Gortash also sees his life mirrored in Shadowheart’s. They both were taken by an evil servant working for a higher power, they were tortured, but Gortash escaped and chose his own god. Perhaps he would offer support for Shadowheart breaking away from Shar if you asked him to. She could make a loyal banite in her search for a new deity.

Or he’d give Viconia all the support she needs to take Shadowheart out of your life.

Gortash is fine with you keeping Shadowheart as a side thing. She can be pushed away and persuaded to back down, Gortash just needs the right thing to hold over her head.

Shadowheart’s openness to polyamory definitely wins her some favor in Gortash’s book as she can be convinced to let your old relationship flourish again.

Gortash sees Shadowheart as someone he can control. He knows the weaknesses she faces with her parents and is willing to exploit that. While envious of her parents devotion to her, he takes some solace in knowing it was her who hurt them.

Minthara

Minthara is similar to Gortash, both are ruthless, ambitious, and devoted to their goals. You missed him so much so you found someone who matches his drive. He’ll show you who has the highest goals and who will bring you to such great heights.

Minthara could make a good Banite. Gortash is willing to welcome her back into the absolute fold but with the curtain pulled back. Instead of following a false god, she can follow Bane and Bane’s chosen.

Minthara’s biting remarks and intelligent quips are greatly appreciated by Gortash. She can keep up with his and yours conversations.

But the deal breaker is Minthara’s intense possessiveness over you. Gortash is almost offended on your behalf for someone thinking the could limit your life. Enver would never try to limit your exploration, as long as you always came back to him.

If you truly want to keep Minthara, Gortash will get her to change her mind. Obviously the elder brain will need to be under his control, but once it’s is, everything can go back to normal.