#i can finally make the karlach build i want

[pinacoladamatata]

i normally care so much about romance cutscene type stuff in these patches but POLEARM MASTER FEAT FIX AND SHIELD BASH FIX THANK FUCK!!!!!! (also can shove dead npcs!)

still no fix for her majesty Shovel Fork Basket though 😔

[mokeonn]

Currently I have so many bg3 saves bc I refuse to delete my old ones that will likely never be finished (first ever gameplays, not optimized, everytime I open one I get overwhelmed and stop), but also because I keep making new games with the specific purpose of romancing a certain companion, seeing special dialog, doing a specific style of run, or getting an achievement on steam.

[nysscientia]

okay but Wyll is like. a prodigy, actually. and I want to talk about that more

like he is a folk hero for a reason. it's not just because he's so nice to people. he is also an incredible adventurer.

when you meet him in the Grove, he is on a level with you—but dialogue makes it clear that's because the tadpole fucked with his capabilities. if you have him around and hear his little interparty exchanges and reactive lines, he talks about things he's done as the Blade of Frontiers, and they include wrestling a giant one-on-one, and fighting a dragon. by himself.

he fought a dragon by himself!!

like (spoilers for end of game), even when you fight a dragon in the finale, you're not doing it ALONE. you have 3 other party members and as many allies as you care to summon. WYLL WAS ALONE IN THE WOODS WITH WHATEVER SUPPLIES HE COULD SCRAPE TOGETHER AS A SOLO ADVENTURER. AND HE FOUGHT A DRAGON.

by all accounts, I think it's reasonable to guess that before the tadpole, he was more powerful than the level 12 cap that's built into the game. and sure, he's a warlock drawing power from a bond, but most D&D lore I've encountered build in the idea that warlocks need a certain amount of skill and prowess to handle the power offered to them by their patron—there's a reason warlocks and clerics still level up, rather than just shooting to the top of the ladder. PLUS, he had to know how to use that power effectively.

and then!! (spoilers for epilogue) if he does the Avernus version of his ending, he's become a ranger within the 6 months since you've last seen him. and not like, he took a level or two in ranger and he's working his way up to it. he tells you about devils he's killed that are on par with the dangers y'all faced in your adventures—and he's doing this either with only Karlach for company, or possibly even by himself (??? I've only ever had him go with Karlach, I can't stand it). so. he is ALSO now one of the most powerful RANGERS in the realms. IN 6 MONTHS.

which makes sense! he wouldn't lose all his adventuring knowledge and skills just because the pact is ended! but to master an entirely new discipline, magic and all, in such a short time??

WYLL RAVENGARD HERO OF THE REALMS. WYLL RAVENGARD GENIUS OF ADVENTURE. WYLL RAVENGARD CAN DO ANYTHING HE SETS HIS MIND TO

[princesssmars]

thinking of karlach who once her engine cools off goes fucking ballistic. nsfw, fem! reader, me being horny for karlach because who isn't. baldur's gate 3 spoilers! i've only finished act one so i start improvising shit.

now, for a woman who has not been able to have even a hint of physical contact for ten years, you have to give her her flowers with how well she seems to deal with being incredibly emotionally and sexually frustrated.

but once she joins your party that hold she had over her body and brain starts to crack. fast.

hell, it started happening before the two of you became romantically involved. while she was drawn to you from the moment you said "yes" to helping a stranger kill a building full of people, she also had eyes and constantly wondered how everyone in the party was so attractive. astarion was never not flirting with someone, wyll was incredibly kind to her, and she could tell when shadowheart was admiring her physique...

but after a few weeks of traveling, fighting, and making friends for the first time in years, eventually during those quiet nights at camp she finds you invading her mind her mind when she rests in her tent to fall asleep, kind of like the parasite, but in a good way.

she thinks of a joke you you made when the two of you were eating by the fire that made her snort like a pig, the way you explored a dungeon and when you found a magical war axe immediately turned to her and gave it to her with a smile, how you so quickly stood up for her when wyll was adamant on killing her because of her past.

your kindness, your intelligence (she's amused when you act like a dumbass and fail when trying to persuade someone), just everything about you, it was only a matter of time before she asked you to join her when everyone fell asleep one night, talking about how you thankfully return her feelings. it takes a turn when you bring up how her condition leaves her pent up, and as you're whispering the sinful things you cant wait to do to her and she do to you.

it hits her full force that oh, she does actually want to fuck your brains out.

after that night everything you do starts to turn her on. like, horrendously. eating a snack on the road? all she can focus on is the way your lips move around the fruit. dancing to a song volo is playing? she's becoming entranced by the way your hips and arms move to the music.

once when the sun was set and the moon was high she headed down to the lake, figuring the rest of the party had already cleaned themselves when she started to undress on the sand, standing still as a statue when she spots you in the middle of the lake, rinsing out your hair when you turn around to look at her.

she can see the water falling from your hair to your shoulders, dripping down over the peak of your nipples, some falling down your chest to between yours legs-

when she comes back later after running off, the ground where she stood was scorched.

but until her engine got fixed, her nights were spent inside her tent rubbing at her clit and fingering her cunt while pretending it was you. the only thing that makes it better is when she can tell you about all the naughty things she thinks about you and seeing you squirm.

once dammon gets another piece of infernal iron and gives her the final upgrade she needs to have physical contact, she at least has the courtesy to take you to a rented room in an inn before she ravages you.

shes tossing you on to the bed and wondering if she should slow down, take it slow with you for your first time together to make it all the more special, but you're staring at her while she's contemplating and youre taking off your top and then youre pants and then youre pulling her by the arm on top of you and she realizes she can save the softness for later.

there's so much kissing, pulling, biting and moaning that after both of your first two orgasms she starts to feel dizzy. she swears shes never felt a greater pleasure than when you were cumming on her fingers, or when you brought her hips up to your face and made her ride your tongue.

she reaches down to your bag that was throw haphazardly on to the floor earlier and finds the toy you bought, the tiefling smiling so brightly her fangs are on full display as she aligns the double sided dildo with your entrance, nearly going cross eyed at the way it slips inside of you before she sticks the other end into her.

she throws your legs over her shoulders, hold your hands in hers, and starts thrusting so quickly its almost like she's afraid she'll die if she stops.

and she is. she has never felt as good as she does in this moment, fucking the toy into you before feeling it do the same to her every time she pulls her hips back.

shes thinking about how much she loves you when she feels your right hand claw at her back.

shes wondering how someone can be so damn beautiful when you arch your back and nearly scream out her name.

she can barely contain herself when she thinks about how she gets to fuck you like this for the rest of her life when her hand leaves yours and grabs onto the wooden bedpost.

your moans of ecstasy reach a pitch and her eyes are taking in every detail as you come undone, to the heaving of your chest and the fluttering of your lashes. its your gentle whisper of her name and a gentle kiss to her lips that tips her over the edge, grinding her hips faster to the point it starts to hurt and she feels her hands tightening and tightening-

her high feels like it lasts forever before she comes back down to earth, breathing heavy with a dopey smile on her face when she looks at you. she's confused by the look on your face, similarly blissed out but your cheeks are bunched up in that way that means youre trying to hold in a laugh...

its only then she starts to feel it : a large chunk of the headboard is in her hand, snapped almost clean off from the rest of in im the height of her euphoria. she cant help but laugh which makes you finally laugh which just makes you laugh harder.

she drops the wood and shakes her hand of any splinters when your hands are wrapping around her neck and pulling her back into you.

she doesn't feel that bad about it.

i've resorted to getting ideas from both dreams and those thoughts you turn into stories while trying to go to sleep im like a genius. i put this in the queue posted it and it only showed up on my blog whats with that.

[bg-brainrot]

More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile. 

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

__

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed ​​flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart’s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence.  When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Before the Happiness

After developing feelings for Astarion, it becomes clear to you that this is uncharted territory...and not just for you.

Pairings: Astarion x female Tav

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, dual pov. MINORS DNI, 18+

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: yes

A/N: Graphic made by me, I do not give permission to share it without asking.

The conversation and laughter around you had lulled to a dull roar as the night sky darkened. Sitting diagonal from Astarion at the campfire, you watched his lips move, almost in slow motion. You couldn’t focus on anything else – the rest of the party were conversing over bottles of wine that you all had found earlier in an abandoned village’s pub. Deciding to stay in the same campsite for two days as an extended rest, Karlach and Gale had the big idea of taking it easy and getting drunk – “to relax, and build morale!” Karlach had claimed.

Too bad you couldn’t take your eyes off of the fair-haired vampire across from you.

What started as an innocent crush – who could blame you, with Astarion being so cocky, and so charming, and so handsome? – quickly turned into something more. Now, you were unfortunately dealing with what you were sure was an unrequited love on one of Faerun’s biggest lady killers.

Figuratively, and literally.

“What say you, Tav?” Wyll asked, elbowing you gently. Snapping you back to reality, you immediately brought your goblet of wine up to your lips to buy yourself some time.

“Sorry, what?” You asked Wyll, keeping your gaze on your goblet. You felt a blush creeping to your lips…hopefully, no one had noticed your total focus on Astarion.

“Gale here was just saying that he could easily have taken on that hoard of goblins we came across this morning by himself!” Wyll chuckled, nodding towards Gale, “Him! Against 20 goblins himself! I say bullshit.”

“Now, now,” Gale interrupted, readying to defend himself, “I said if I had the proper time to prepare my spells correctly, I could easily fight against them-”

“Well, of course, if you had time to properly prepare for battle, you are more able to fight,” Shadowheart retorted, rolling her eyes, “But that’s not the point of battle.”

“Well…” You started as the party erupted into conversations about the designs of battle. As mini discussions started, you swept your eyes across the rest of the party, all who were animatedly debating whether they were for or against Gale’s point.

All, except for Astarion.

Once your eyes met his, you were locked on. He was absentmindedly swirling the wine in his goblet, his eyes unwavering against yours. Face completely unreadable, he caused heat to rise in you. You looked away quickly, only to check again to see if he was still looking at you.

He was.

You felt panic start in your fingertips as you gulped down the rest of your wine and immediately put your goblet down next to you. Standing, you wiped your hands on your pants.

“I’m going for a walk – I need some air.” You announced to no one (as they were still engulfed in their can-Gale-fight-20-goblins discussion). Without hesitation, you made your way to the creek a little bit beyond your campsite. Through the trees, the only noise was the fading of voices and the snapping of twigs beneath your camp boots. Finally reaching the creek, you were able to breathe out a sigh of relief, leaning against the nearest tree.

Your infatuation with Astarion was a point of panic for you – having never been in love (nor never had a partner before), you found yourself in undiscovered territory. You spent your whole life training as a fighter, not a girlfriend. So of course, the irony of it all would be that your first love would be a man who had so much experience, he would make the employees at Sharess’ Caress blush. He also happened to be a man that, though kind enough, wasn’t exactly a buddy. Astarion wouldn’t be the first person you’d reach out to in times of trouble at camp, no matter how much you wanted to. You and Astarion hadn’t had any talks where you were able to divulge your backstories – the only thing you knew about him was that he was a vampire, and his past with Cazador, really.

Oh, and that he was really, absurdly sexy.

You had only hoped that the others around you – especially Astarion – didn’t notice the extra time you spent staring at his face when you hoped no one was watching. Or the fact that your laugh was the loudest when he told funny stories around the campfire. Or that when travelling, you often found yourself walking near him.

“Are you alright?” A voice asked, forcing your eyes to pop open. You whipped around from the tree, finding Astarion step out from behind the forest. A friendly smile played on his lips, putting your thundering heart at ease slightly.

“Oh…yes, I’m fine. Thank you…I think I’ve had too much wine.” You said, quickly making up an excuse, “I guess my body has forgotten how to drink since we started this journey…since…we haven’t really had any wine…since…we started journeying.”

Smooth.

Astarion let out a chuckle, meeting you at the tree you were leaning against. “Ah yes, that makes…sense.” He paused the same way you had. You locked eyes and he broke out in a smile, and you realized he was teasing you. Your heart sped.

“You know what I mean…” You grumbled, kicking a rock in front of you and blushing.

“Yes, yes. I certainly do,” He paused for a moment, looking out at the creek. He didn’t speak, and you were suddenly aware of how loud the running of the water was. “I was worried about you when you ran off so suddenly. I was hoping you weren’t feeling ill.”

“Oh! Oh, no, I’m fine,” You felt flustered – Astarion? Worried about you? “Thank you, though…for checking on me.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to change…were they darker somehow? But he blinked, and they returned to his normal ruby red. He raised his eyebrows and he nodded, gracefully slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “You are welcome.”

“I’m feeling better, if you wanted to walk back to the campfire…with me?” You asked hesitantly. Gods, he was just a man! He wasn’t some sort of monstrous creature…so why did he make you so nervous?

Smiling, Astarion raised his arm as if to say, lead the way, “After you.”

You nodded and walked past him, ready to shake off your nerves. You committed to yourself to go back to the campfire and not look at Astarion once. You needed to be objective about your feelings towards him, no matter how strong they were. After all, you all had a mission to complete, and falling in love would simply get in the way. Leave your thoughts of Astarion when you were alone in your bed, drifting off to sleep – not when you were needed to be present.

Suddenly, Astarion gently grabbed your wrist. His fingers were ice cold as you expected, but it still sent a shiver down your spine. “I want to say something to you.” He started. You felt a lump in your throat, unable to speak. You simply nodded, your nerves making you unable to look at him.

“I have noticed that you and I haven’t been able to…get to know each other as much as the others,” His voice, barely above a whisper, was confident and sultry. “I would like that to change. I do enjoy your company very much. And after all, who knows how long we will be spending with each other until we can reclaim our minds from these wretched tadpoles, no?”

You swallowed and nodded, turning to look at him. His eyes glittered, mischievously. His signatured smirk was on his face as he slowly let go of your wrist. Somehow, his icy fingers left your skin burning.

“I would like that,” You eventually say, over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, “I also enjoy your…” Gulp. “Company.”

“Wonderful,” Astarion said. “Well, now that that’s settled, let’s get back to camp, shall we?” And even though he originally had you lead the way, he started off to camp first, leaving you a few steps behind.

Not that you minded��you obviously had to use this time to collect your thoughts.

Astarion wasn’t quite sure what had come over him at the party’s get-together the previous evening, but once he had seen you (very obviously) fixating on him from across the fire, something in him snapped.

Sure, he had noticed you immediately when he had joined the party – your kind eyes, and beautiful hair. Not to mention your lyrical laugh, and curvy body…the same one where, the mere thought of could keep him up all night…

It was safe to say he had developed strong feelings for you, so Astarion decided to do what he did best – keep a safe distance, and play it cool. There was no way romance and love and feelings would be a good idea in any sense.

Especially when he knew that your feelings were probably just lust.

Love was something so far from Astarion’s lexicon, he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt it. No one could ever love him – not after everything he had done, or even because of who he was. Worthless, disgusting, abysmal…there weren’t enough words to describe Astarion’s shortcomings.

Astarion was very aware of what many others thought of him – his only redeeming quality to the world was his looks, so the idea that people only wanted to fuck and leave was not a new concept. Though he couldn’t necessarily get himself into that particular situation all that much while under Cazador (though he somehow was able to sneak away for an hour or two while completing a mission), he saw how people looked at him on this journey.

It would’ve been flattering to him if he didn’t hate himself so much.

So the idea that your feelings – which were always written all over your face – could be any more than a fantasy of bedding him, was preposterous. Up until now, Astarion would be able to push that aside for a night or two in order to satiate his (and your) need to get off, but something inside him told him that his feelings would get in the way. His fantasies about you weren’t just sexual…sometimes, his mind wandered to holding you in his arms, or simply eating a meal with you by the campfire.

Or even worse…a future with you. One that didn’t include tadpoles and battles, but of sleeping in a fluffy bed with you on a Sunday morning; of going to the town market together to complete your errands, and of owning a cat with you.

Which, truth be told, scared him more than anything.

So when he found himself following you to the creek after you had left the campfire that evening without even thinking about it, he knew he was in trouble. Gone was any sense in his brain; instead, he knew his heart was taking over, and for whatever reason, he decided to go along with it. Maybe it was because his feelings were too strong, or that he couldn’t help himself, but he knew he needed to finally be around you more.

Even if that meant you wanted nothing more than a dirty fuck.

A few days after the night at the campfire (and - surprise, surprise - another night of drinking the following evening), you found yourself once again headed towards Baldur's Gate, party and belongings in tow. Since then, you and Astarion had fallen into your familiar rhythm of what seemed like standoffishness, but now with more smiles and pleasantries peppered in. Which, was more than okay with you, since the very idea of Astarion becoming close seemed to scare you.

However, your heart couldn't help but flutter when the surprisingly flirty remark Astarion made was thrown your way. So much so that you didn't mind the curious glances from Lae'zel, or Gale.

"C'mon, you have to tell us!" Karlach pleaded while on the road, her voice a hoarse whisper as to not draw attention, "What is going on between you and Astarion?! Don't think I didn't notice, soldier...him running after you the other night? And now he's flirting with you...complimenting you?! The others may not be noticing all that much, but I certainly am!"

You laughed nervously and swatted your hand in the air as if to say, it's nothing! "Oh, you know Astarion. He flirts with everyone!"

"Yeah, but this is the first time he's flirting with you," Karlach retorted. "Which, took long enough since Gods, you're hot! But, don't think I haven't noticed the change in attitude between you two."

A blush crept to your face as you felt yourself unable to look away from the back of Astarion's head, who was walking a few paces ahead of you, discussing something with Halsin very intently. Your mind wandered to other things as your eyes scanned his body...his back, his behind...how both of them would look naked.

"Alright, I'm leaving you to whatever weird fantasy is currently going on in that brain of yours, okay?" Karlach finally said, pulling you out of your daydream. She playfully shoved your shoulder and walked faster, stepping in line with Shadowheart at the front of the pack. As she passed, Astarion slowly turned his head to look at you, Halsin still blabbering away in his ear. Your heart leapt to your throat as you locked eyes with him.

He had definitely heard.

The night had fallen silently, the only noise in camp being crickets chirping away. The oil lamp in your tent flickered as you pulled the blanket on your bed closer to your body. The book you were reading was propped up in your lap, and you reveled in the peace of the evening - retiring to your tent early, you heard exactly when everyone else had gone to sleep. Sure, you probably should have been sleeping already since Wyll insisted on an early morning start, but you wanted to enjoy your book for just a few more moments.

Suddenly, a rustling came from the front of your tent, the sound of someone announcing themselves.

"It's me," Astarion's voice called, "Are you decent?"

"Um-" You threw the book closed and swept the blanket off of you in a panic, though there was literally nothing to panic about. Rising from the bed quickly, you started to pace your tent, "Yes. Come in."

The flap to your tent was quickly undid and thrust open. Astarion strode in and redid the flap with ease. He looked down, and once he realized you had enchanted your tent with a wooden floor, slipped off his camp shoes. When he looked back up at you, he smiled.

"Good evening, darling."

"Good evening." You said, holding your hands behind your back. You plastered a smile on your face, trying to suppress the urge to smooth your hair. A moment of silence passed by before you snapped into action, "Would you like to sit?" You asked, motioning to your bed.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Astarion said awkwardly, moving towards the bed. He sat at the far corner, causing you to sit at the opposite side.

How funny...with how badly you wanted to jump his bones, you'd think you wouldn't be on basically the other side of the world.

"Well, darling, I just came here tonight to...see how you were doing?" Astarion started, looking at you. You couldn't help but smile as he leaned back on the footpost of your bed.

"How I'm doing?" You clarified.

He nodded, "Yes, as friends do. That's what we're working towards," He paused, his eyes flickering down your body. Then, his eyes did the thing - darkened slightly, causing an indescribable look to cross his face.

Suddenly, you recognized that it wasn't an indescribable look.

It was lust.

"Friends, correct? That's what we're looking for." He finally finished, meeting your eyes again. This time, his eyes stayed dark, running his tongue quickly over his lips to moisten them.

You heart began to thud and you shifted in your nightclothes, arousal springing in your belly. Just Astarion's look alone and you were suddenly putty in his hands.

"Y-yes. Friends...that's what we are." You quietly confirmed. Feeling bold - you couldn't believe that Astarion was feeling lustful towards you! Could it be a mistake? - you scooted a bit closer and leaned in slightly, "Unless you had...other plans."

Astarion smirked and cocked and eyebrow, mirroring your body language by scooting closer. "Darling...are you coming on to me?" His voice was low, floating to your ears. You began to feel warm, a bit of sweat pooling on your brow. "If so...well, that changes everything."

"Does it now?" You murmured, staring at his lips. Your boldness surprised you - you were surprised that the first time you took a chance with Astarion was working in your favor.

Not that you were complaining.

As your heart started to beat faster, Astarion slid closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. His hand slowly snaked up your side, his pointer finger lightly tracing your thigh. He moved in, his lips mere inches from yours.

"Say the word", He said, his voice ringing in your ears, "And tonight, I'm yours. But I will not continue unless you say it."

Your belly pooled with heat, and you couldn't contain yourself, no matter how nervous you were, "Then be mine tonight."

At once Astarion was on top of you, his lips pressed against yours. Spreading his legs so that yours were in between his, he pressed himself down on your body, his erection already prominent. You moaned into the kiss, causing him to deepen it.

"Astarion," You breathed as he pulled away slightly, starting to push your sleep shirt up from the bottom. He smiled as he quickly looked into your eyes, finally finding your lips with his again.

"If this is what friendship means for us, then I cannot wait to get closer." He spoke teasingly, his words sloppy, encased in your lips. You giggled through the kiss and suddenly gasped as you felt his cold hands on your sides, under your shirt.

You heart raced as your hands found their way to Astarion's shirt, pulling it above his head. You ran your fingers down his chest, taking in the sight before you. He paused, obviously loving the attention. A smirk played on his lips as he pushed your shirt above your head, eyes widening as your bare chest was finally on display.

"Gods, you're gorgeous." He purred, maintaining eye contact as he slowly lowered his head to latch his lips on to one of your erect nipples. You immediately moaned as his tongue swirled around your breast, leaving evidence of saliva around your nipple.

"Fuck, Astarion." You grumbled, your back arching into his mouth. He smiled but continued with his mouth, his hands finding their way to your soft pants. Without ties or buttons, Astarion was able to easily push them down, and you helped by kicking them off of your ankles.

"Darling, I can't wait to take you all in," He said, his mouth rising to yours again. One of his hands found its way to your neck, holding on to the side, while resting on his elbow. His other hand met your clit, immediately rubbing circles, "You're already so wet." He chuckled.

"You feel so good," You retorted as an explanation. Your thoughts were swimming overwhelmingly - you couldn't believe you were finally in bed with Astarion. You had fantasized about this moment basically since you had met him, and being here felt better than you could have ever imagined.

Say the word, and tonight, I'm yours. His words rang in your brain, causing your face to flush even more.

Tonight.

Tonight.

But what about after tonight?

You hadn't much experience with lovers, aside from the few and far between "relationships" as a teen, so you didn't know what was supposed to happen after this night. Were you supposed to go back to normal...as friends?

Suddenly, a pang of panic spread through you - the idea of going back to normal, as just friends, was painful to you. Here you were, with Astarion finally as a lover, someone you've come to care for deeply.

How deep it was going to hurt if you couldn't continue on with him. How deep it would hurt if you gave yourself to him like that, only to have him take you and discard you.

You snapped back to reality, realizing that many moments of silence from you had gone by. You hadn't even felt anything Astarion was doing, and he noticed, quizzically looking at you while continuing to work on your clit. You felt anxiety rise to the surface violently, and you suddenly sat up in the bed.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, stop. Stop!" You said, immediately criss-crossing your legs. Astarion, shocked, sat back on his knees, his glistening chest heaving.

"I'm sorry! Did I do something wrong?" His lips were full and swollen, his eyes wide. You recognized the look of fear on his face, causing your heart to drop.

"I can't do this," You spoke frantically, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry I just...can't."

"Oh...kay," Astarion spoke slowly, seemingly afraid to startle you, "What's wrong?"

Your thoughts were still jumbled, the anxiety still at the surface, "I just...I just can't have you dismiss me after tonight!" Your voice was shrill, you knew it, but you couldn't stop.

Confused, Astarion slid closer. He was quiet for a moment, handing over your blanket. You took it, covering yourself, silently thanking him for the gesture.

"'Dismiss' you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side, "What do you mean, 'dismiss' you?"

"You know..." You said, almost panting from the panic, "Dismiss me! Like your...your other lovers!" You waved your hand in the air to accentuate the point, "Here I am, with true, deep feelings of love for you, and all I am to you will be another notch in your bedpost!" You sighed, finally catching your breath, "And I know I said yes to this, but truth be told I am not...experienced...with someone who is as experienced as you, and I know I said yes because I couldn't help myself due to my feelings for you. But I cannot go back to just friends after this, to party members after this. Like nothing had happened. I cannot be discarded..." Finally deciding to look at him, you felt tears spring to your eyes, "I think that will break my heart."

"Darling," Astarion whispered, taking your hand in his. "What makes you think I planned to discard you after this?"

"Isn't that what you want?" You asked, allowing the small tears to fall freely, "To just...fuck?"

"Gods, no!" Astarion cried, moving closer and smiling, "That's what I thought you wanted!"

"What?!" You asked, matching his smile, "What do you mean?"

"I thought you only wanted to bed me," He said, squeezing your hand, "That's why I came here tonight - because I thought it was what you wanted. My whole life, for as long as I can remember, my body has been used for others. I've never had someone bed me and want to stay...You know my history with Cazador...you know what I've been subjected to. I've never had anyone...care...for me before," He looked down, his voice softening, "...are you saying that you care for me?"

You nodded slowly. Bravely, you reached your hand to touch his cheek, causing him to look up to you again, "I care for you...deeply. I've fantasized about this moment since I've met you but..." You tried to find the proper words, "I'm not quite sure I'm ready for it. I have little experience and, I know that sounds young, but-"

"My darling, I would never ever push you to do something you don't want," Astarion interrupted, shaking his head, "If anyone knows about being forced to do things you don't want, it's me. Truth be told...it's quite a relief to hear you say that...I'm not...quite sure my body is ready to be touched in that way...right now," He smiled sadly, "Not by someone I care for deeply. Not in a relationship I want to grow more then just...sleeping with one another. I find that it is hard to think of myself sexually due to...my past. And I'd rather move past that before I..." His words trailed off, as if he didn't want to continue.

"Astarion," You whispered. "I won't hurt you like that. Just like you didn't want to hurt me."

He smiled finally, taking your hand closer to his mouth. Gently, he kissed your knuckles, a smile playing on his lips, "The last thing I will ever do is hurt you."

"So..." You gently nudged, "You're saying that you care deeply for me as well?"

Astarion looked at you seriously, continuing to hold your hand. He nodded, "I do. I'm terrified, but I do. I don't know what this is, and I don't know what it will become, but I've come to realize that whatever it is...I want to do it with you," He chuckled to himself, "A terrifying thought, my heart in your hands."

"And mine in yours." You spoke. Your heart was thundering with an overflow of joy - after all this time, this new revelation felt like a sunrise after a dark and stormy night. After a moment of silence, you tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, "Tonight, I think we just lay together. We don't need anything else. But I would like to spend time with you."

Astarion's eyes glittered as he nodded again, noticing your sleep clothes on the ground and picking them up. As he slipped his shirt back on, he laid beside you in bed, hesitantly putting his arms around you.

"I've never just...lay with someone before."

"There's a first for everything." You said mildly, turning to him in his arms. He smiled, gently kissing your forehead.

"I'm scared." He offered. You nodded, knowingly.

"I know. So am I."

"But before the happiness, there is always fear." He said. He looked at you, sincerity and kindness in his eyes. Gently, you met his lips with yours, trying to muster as much courage and support as you could through a kiss. When you pulled back, you smiled at him.

"And there will be a lot of happiness."

-----

What did you all think? I'm so sorry for the long break! I'm back! As always, reblogs, likes, and comments mean the WORLD for writers and are much appreciated!

My inbox is OPEN for requests!

[wilwheaton]

Do you play online games?

Whether it be like proper console gaming or basic games on your phone

I am so old, my formative experiences with video games were all single player. When multi-player online arrived, it was text-based MUDs (I helped run one, when 28.8 was fast) and that was all the social interaction I ever needed.

Put another way, I prefer my gaming to be quietly alone, or couch co-op with one of my kids. I have found every single online multiplayer gaming community to be so toxic and unwelcoming to new players, I honestly don't know how anyone can endure that shit to get to the good stuff, but like I said, I'm old.

For the last year or so, I've split my time among:

NHL 22 Create a Pro. Blaine Gretzky is in his 8th season of a game that was never intended to be an RPG, but EA vastly underestimated how far a weird nerd will go to make that happen.

Baldur's Gate 3. I'm in the final battle of my second play through because there is no such thing as too much Karlach. But I took a break because I loved the Fallout TV series, so...

Fallout 4 has been my jam for about a month. I loved New Vegas so much I have played all of it I think three times, plus I did all the DLC in a weekend awhile ago. But I never played 4, because I was playing RDR2 or something when it came out, and I never got around to it. I've been playing the hell out of it, and I'm completely obsessed. The world is so much bigger than I expected, and I love building, maintaining, and putting disco balls into all my settlements. I have no idea how far into the story I am, but every night something new and fun happens when I play.

And, finally, Stardew Valley. I am years late to the party, but I wanted something gentle, slow, and meditative for the change of pace from all those other things. I actually came to it because I wanted something like Animal Crossing that wasn't Nintendo-exclusive, and it was like 4 dollars on Steam. I think I have 40 or so hours in it. I'm about to start my first Fall season, and I fucking FINALLY caught a fish. I love how it forces you to pick one or two things to do each game day, so I'm like, "Well, we're clearing trees and rocks today, then I'll water the garden and go to sleep. Tomorrow, I'll take gifts into town." And so on. It shouldn't be as satisfying as it is, but it just works perfectly for me.

Thanks for asking. It's always fun for me to talk about stuff like this long after everyone has lost interest.

[nerdallwritey]

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ 𝓛𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 ✦˚₊‧⁺˖

Hi, I'm Emma! Welcome to my writing blog, where there's banter abound!

I'm currently writing Astarion x f!reader fics, but am open to requests! Be warned: My content is NSFW so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it! MDNI

Where else can you find me?

AO3 // Main Blog (I reblog tons of bg3 stuff over there!)

𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔞𝔯𝔡 - (Posted in order chronologically)

An Evening to Ourselves (18+): When Astarion propositions you for the first time, you're anything but excited. // AO3

“I, uh-” It was too much. The look on his face was too intense. You felt too exposed despite the layers of armor currently clad to your body. “I’m scared,” you admitted quietly. “Don’t be,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. “I’ll be gentle.”

Just to Ruin Me (18+): The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two. // AO3

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.”

Cheeks All Flushed (18+): It's time for the Tielfing party! Antics ensue. // Part 1 // Part 2 // AO3

You looked at him thoughtfully. “Hang on, weren’t you and Karlach trying to get drunk?” Astarion giggled stupidly. “Yes.” You snorted. “How’d that go?” “Fine,” he sighed. “Takes me a lot longer to get drunk. What with the dead liver and all.” You furrowed your brow. “Wouldn’t lacking a working liver make you drunk immediately?” Astarion whined, “I don’t know, but Karlach is completely inebriated and I only have a buzz I can already feel fading.”

Perfect Every Time (18+): Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together. // AO3

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.  “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.  You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. 

Worth the Peril (18+): Upon arriving in the Underdark, you go down in a battle, leaving Astarion to pick up the pieces. // AO3

In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian.  Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it. And right now, he was entering a rage.

About to Strike (18+): The gang finally makes their way into the Shadow Cursed Lands. // Part 1 // Part 2 // AO3

Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink. He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?” “Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira. Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well. “Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet. “You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms.

More to come!

𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔠 - (One Shots)

Don't! Cross! This! Line! With Your Hand. (Mature): Astarion asks for help with reading the scars on his back. You give him a hard time in the process. // Crack fic based on this scene from Night at the Museum 2: Battle of the Smithsonian // AO3

“I’ll tell you what, they didn’t call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy’ for nothing.” He made to hand you the instrument, then snatched it back just as quickly. “They DIDN’T call me ‘Astarion the Trustworthy,’ they called me ‘Astarion the BLOODTHIRSTY, who KILLS whoever doesn’t give Astarion exactly what he wants in the moment that he wants it! Which is RIGHT NOW when I had better get my back read out to me!’” You looked at him with wide eyes, trying and nearly failing to withhold a laugh. He was trying to play this game with you. He really was. But you could see how desperately he wanted answers, too.  Astarion, in turn, puffed his chest out as if trying to stand his ground.  Just a little longer with the teasing, then you’d help him. “That’s what they called you?” you asked. Astarion looked up as if trying to grasp what exactly he should say next. “It was… shorter in Elvish.”

ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 - (Ask box is open!)

Awfully Fond of You 🪴 (18+): Instead of sleeping with Astarion on the night of the tiefling party, you ask to bathe him instead. // AO3

You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water. “You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket out for Astarion to see. “I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.” “A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.” “I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

𝔄𝔯𝔱 - (Please feel free to draw scenes from the story! Just tag me!)

xxnashiraxx: - Birdie (my Tav!) - Birdie 2.0 sthormii: - Mine (from About to Strike)/Fangs (from Just to Ruin Me) - Foresight (from Awfully Fond of You) ollieneedsamilkshake: - In Another Life (from Worth the Peril)

[xxnashiraxx]

WIP Wednesday!

Thank you for the tags, @verbenaa & @roguishcat!!! Your snippets were amazing and I can't wait to read more from both of you!! ❤❤

Here's a wip for the next and final installment of my BG3 Kinktober series! This one is developing a bit still, but I'm finally using the tadpole trope! I have yet to, and I'm sure it'll make an appearance in the main fic too, but I'm playing around with some ideas for this one and I hope to post it on Halloween night so please pray for me and for my free time to stay interrupted so I can post on time! 🙏🙏

Ofelia stares into her soup, slightly groggy.

The day had been long, full of fighting through a disgusting sewer looking for Jaheira’s old comrade- who turned out to be surprisingly nice, but it was still a sewer. Ugh. The bath she’d taken still didn’t feel like enough. Despite everything, her companions manage to find entertainment in the form of Scratch performing tricks to which they happily clap and cheer in their little camp beside the harbor.

“Is it not to your tastes?” Gale murmurs, hushed tones doing nothing to mask his question from the others around the campfire. She smiles softly, stirring the clear broth and noodles.

“No, it’s really good… I’m just a little tired from the day.” He offers her an understanding smile before Karlach knocks into him from behind in her bid to have Scratch chase the ball she holds aloft.

She pushes her utensil around the bowl, mind wandering to their resident vampire as vague loneliness distracts her from truly joining the others. Astarion had gone to his tent long before dinner was served and with a chaste kiss, he left her beside the fire, a glimmer to his eyes and a lingering touch on her shoulder. She had wondered if he wanted her to join him, but she hadn’t been sure. Usually, he’d just ask—this time he didn’t. So she’s stayed, catching herself almost falling face-first into her food a few times.

As the rest gather closer to the campfire, listening to Jaheira and Minsc tell stories of their old adventures, Ofelia starts to feel it. It begins as a tingle in her belly and a gentle onset of warmth that unfolds over her face and abdomen, making her feel overheated and flustered. At first, she blames the broth, wondering if she’s starting to get sick, until the sensation settles between her thighs and she inhales sharply.

“Ofelia? Is everything alright?” Shadowheart asks, but Ofelia doesn’t reply. Her heart starts to race, sweat breaking over the back of her neck, and she shifts in her seat to stifle the feeling but it’s no use. An ache, stunning in its force, unfolds below and she sets her bowl down on the ground with shaking hands. The tadpole chitters in her skull- a familiar throb beginning at her temples and she instantly knows what’s happening.

She feels him, his motions, the air puffing through his flared nostrils as his teeth anchor over his rolled-up shirt, long, deft fingers palming the hard bulge over his pants. She feels it as if she is him and she tenses when he unties the laces and lets his cock spring free as a quiet sigh of relief pours from his lips.

“U-uh yeah…” Ofelia looks up at Shadowheart, eyes misty and cheeks red. The half-elf frowns, holding the back of her hand over her forehead, and Ofelia jumps at the contact.

“You’re feeling a little warm…” Shadowheart continues, but Ofelia’s lost in the feeling of Astarion finally stroking himself, she can feel his stomach tightening and his fangs digging through the fabric into his lower lip as he holds back a soft moan. Sensations build across her skin, her forehead feverish and her mouth dry. She shifts on the log, holding back a soft whine as heat pools between her legs and the feeling of him swiping his thumb over the wetness gathering at the tip lights her nerves on fire.

She feels him set a slow pace, driving himself mad at the gentle rocking of his hips as he fucks his hand. Ofelia bites her cheek hard, eyes squinting shut as the sensations of relief clash with her unrestrained desire- frustration causing her to twitch and dig her nails into her arms. She tries to reach out, but there’s a strange wall up between them keeping her strictly in receiving territory.

“Ofelia…” The blunt edges of her teeth almost cut the tip of her tongue off when her jaw snaps shut, the sound of her name in his voice echoing through her mind and sealing her resolve. She fights the urge to make a sound of discomfort, more of his pleasant sighs ringing in her ears as she stands abruptly.

“I… don’t feel well. I think I’m going to lie down.” She says through gritted teeth as Astarion quickens the pace of his movements, her body flooding with a rush of heat that spreads from her core outward. Shadowheart looks vaguely troubled, as do the rest who’d looked up at the quiet commotion, but no one interjects. Ofelia manages to slip away, thanking whatever gods that Astarion had put his tent as far from the fire as possible- yet still very much in hearing range. She throws open the entrance to find him smirking up at her, the culprit in hand glistening gloriously in the candlelight. The sight makes her knees weak.

“You… did you do that on purpose? How come I couldn’t get through?” Her voice is hushed but measured and dangerous, his smile deepening as she steps fully inside.

“How else was I going to get you over here?” he murmurs, soft and seductive. She carefully lowers herself to her knees beside him as he idly moves his hand back and forth, maintaining eye contact as they remain connected. She can feel the twist of his fingers and the subtle flex of his wrist. When a soft groan echoes in her mind, she opens her eyes to blink in confusion.

“Was that only in my head?” His grin deepens.

“Correct,” He reaches up and pulls her down till her lips crash over his and he devours every little breathless sigh and tremble of her body.

“We haven’t touched like this in days… we’re too close to everyone…” She hums, soft as she can, unable to linger on his words as just the slightest touch of his lips to her neck sends chills down her spine. He undoes her bra and her nipples stiffen in the chilled air, unable to restrain the gasps that slip past her teeth as his fingers barely brush over them. She’s so sensitive… doesn’t remember ever feeling it this intensely before.

Perhaps it has been a while for them… they’d not done much else but fight through the Lower City for the last few days, and before that, it had been fighting to get to the gates and through Gortash’s Steel Watch. Which hadn’t put up much of a fight, since they’d been allowed entry at the cost of a sham deal. Her eyes widen at the mental count she’s gone through, the number eighteen shining in her vision as his soft tut slices through the realization.

“Eighteen gods damn days and I haven’t been inside you for a single one of them. I feel like I’m dying,”

No-Pressure Tagging you all!! @khywren @preciouslittlebhaalbae @ladyduellist @inkymoonbunny @elinorbard @justabiteofspite @kalmiaphlox @busy-baker @pinkberrytea (my love 🩷) and everyone else! Please, I can't remember anything this morning! 😭

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Keep Thinking About Gale x Single Mom!Tav

A/N: Shout-out to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble to them about it. I just need to get all this stuff rattling around in my brain out.

I know, I know, Gale repeatedly says he's not father material, but have you considered that I want him to be a dad anyway and it's cute

So in my brain this single mom is named Gwen (Guinevere); a half-elf, wild magic sorceress

She came from a fairly well to do family, married a handsome and acceptably rich merchant and soon had a child on the way

Problems came when she gave birth to a healthy baby girl, who also happened to be a teifling

Seen as a bad omen, both her family and husband wanted her to give up the child, she refused causing her husband to leave her and her family to reject her

She didn't let that stop her though and soon she found a new home for her and Clara

Over the next eight years she worked hard to build a life for herself and make sure Clara never doubted for a moment she was loved

Gwen knew the world would be hard on her girl, so she made a point to build up her confidence and teach her it's never wrong to fight back when people are treating you unfairly; you can't take that shit lying down

Blunt and a bit intense, Gwen has seen and done plenty of shit and thought she finally had a handle on her life; and then she got kidnapped by illithids

Still haven't played the game, so I can't give a play by play of every interaction, but I do know early game she would be a bit distracted

Obviously her first goal is to figure out if her daughter is okay so it frankly is the only thing on her mind until she gets her hand on a sending scroll or something like it

Only after does she confirm that Clara is safe and with people she trusts can she focus on the task at hand

Takes a liking to Gale basically from the word go; he's respectful, he know hows to cook, he keeps making comments about his tongue, there is only so much a woman can handle

Gods know it has been a while since she's gotten laid

He starts rambling about magic and she can't not fuck him

Gale is hesitant at first because first the orb, second Gwen has made no secret she had a child and Gale doesn't see himself as father material, and three because he does really, really like her and doesn't want to make promises he can't keep

I'd say they're able to meet Clara before they head come to Baldur's Gate so Gale and the rest can meet her earlier; and to give Gwen some peace of mind

Clara is a very curious and headstrong, both of which Gale can appreciate; he can see why Gwen was so determined to get back to her, which only makes him admire her more

Also, quick aside about the rest of the companions; Wyll and Karlach would be ready to baby sit at any given moment, Lae'zel admires the child's fighting spirit and absolutely gifted her a sword, Shadowheart enjoys her more mischievous tendencies, and Astarion is classic wine aunt who hates all kids except Clara (he's been helping her stage of coup of the swing set)

Eventually feelings are confessed between Gale and Gwen leading to a proper relationship (and Gwen actually getting laid)

Gwen is absolutely not having it with him trying to blow himself up or becoming a god

Mystra: You must destroy yourself and the orb. Gale: Alright, let me ask Gwen. Mystra: No, that's not--. Gale: She said no.

Once everything is said and done, I'm going back and forth on if they would settle in Waterdeep

Clara has friends and it would be hard to ask her to leave, but I think Gale could compromise and get a position at a different magical university closer by

Either way, Gale settles into the domestic life rather nicely and dives head first into being the best father to Clara he can be

He absolutely devours every parenting book he can get his hands on, only to throw it all out the window once he's actually in it; Gwen did warn him, but old habits and all that

Probably waits a little longer to actually get married to see how they all function as a family together first; plus he wants to properly ask Clara if she's okay with him marrying her mother

I've got other random thoughts, but that about covers it for now, if you want to know more, feel free to drop an ask! I'm up for anything.

[melancholicbard]

inspired by this fic by @senualothbrok

GalexTav yearning fics are such a vibe and reading this one got me thinking

a scenario with a bard!tav (very music specific)

Casting inspiring speech but in a song form

The song: From now on from the greatest showman

Set before the final battle against the elder brain; that scene where they ask you to say a speech after you’ve recruited all your allies

Everyone is uncertain, scared, facing the biggest threat that could change their lives forever, not knowing if they’ll make it out alive

Starting with the small soft verse sung by Tav; a soft declaration of the chosen family, the companions, perhaps the romanced partner

Building the chorus, bard!tav sings a line and gets the companions to join in

Getting Karlach Gale and Halsin to sing the melody (I feel like karlach and halsin have the tavern-singing vibe that would carry the melody)

Wyll and Shadowheart on the high harmony (I imagine they’d have more refined voices; at least Wyll probably would have had some training being raised in nobility and shadowheart’s seems to be in the right range)

Astarion Jaheira and Laezel on the low harmony (would possibly switch Astarion and Halsin because it feels like halsin’s voice would sit well on the low harmony but again I just feel like he has that jovial singing vibe with Karlach to carry the melody)

Minsc drumming away (he literally just randomly sits down and starts drumming when in camp)

Bard!Tav comes back in on melismas and the super high harmony (maybe if Volo is there he helps harmonize with the bridge section — I’m trying to be realistic with the voices and musical knowledge)

Building the chorus, swelling, dancing, rousing their spirits to believe we WILL come back home we will succeed we will win (think that dance scene from tangled in the town square)

Bard!tav indicating to them

Dropping to a hushed voice all together, holding hands in a circle; acknowledging the scariest and most important battle of their lives, the final battle after a long arduous journey

The last line, looking into the eyes of the one(s) you care about most; promising you’ll come back home to them

If you’re romancing a character:

Gale: it’s a promise to both of you; we WILL beat the netherbrain, you are NOT blowing yourself up, we’re going to get you that crown, return it to Mystra and cure you of the orb, and we are both going home

Halsin: we’re going to go back to the former shadow cursed lands and build a new home for everyone that needs it together

-not related to this scenario but I wanted to highlight this fic by @drabblesandimagines

Astarion: if the sun burns you after the tadpole is gone, I will stick by you and we will create a new home, a new life

- inspired by this fic by @astarioffsimpmain where he turns into a bat temporarily

Wyll: we’re going to survive this and we’re going to hunt down mizora (and help Karlach hunt Zariel and fix her heart for good) or stay in baldur’s gate and rebuild the city from the ground up (depending on what ending you chose for him)

Karlach: we’re going to survive this fight, you’re going to be fine, I’ll be with you as we jump into Avernus, hunt down zariel, fix your heart, and get you back into the mortal plane so you can live out your life and be able to hug everyone (please she’s such a cinnamon roll)

Shadowheart: we’ve freed your parents and they’re watching over you as moon motes; we’re going to survive this fight and then we’re going to help you figure out how to move on, how to heal, everything that was taken away

Laezel: we gotta go kill Vlakith and you’re going to raise that egg (I’m sorry I’m not familiar enough with her story line)

Can someone write this as a hurt/comfort fic 😭 please hit me with the feels

also if I had animation skills I’d try to make this into an MV

If anyone wants to sing with me lowkey I’d want to make this into a thing

[eliteseven]

At this point ( I do not know who is where, doing what in Serena's timeline but...) for some reason I can just see the whole gang kind of popping in when Shadowheart gives birth and it at some point becomes this comedic event (tbh it is my personal HC that no matter what: Shadowheart and f!Tav have children, does not matter how) but everyone fills out a role that is just so perfectly timed. Like Lae'zel comes in with Xan and she berates Tav, that she did not build a proper birthing ground or something. And the list just goes on and on.

Also, I mean, it's moon magic and all but I do not think Isobel would be able to reproduce in any capacity. But if she could. Omg the little Aylin and Isobel look-a-likes with wings would be a menace.

If I’m bringing in the entire ensemble cast, I want CHAOS!!!! 👹

-Like, Xan playing with Aylin and Isobel’s winged babies and every single animal in the cottage chasing after them!! Knocking over all of Shadowheart and Tav’s carefully placed decor. 🥰

-Aylin and Lae’zel trying to give Tav an aggressive crash course in motherhood (she’s already ready and potentially better suited than both of them 💀 but anyway) and Tav just freaking out.

Aylin: “and remember, in the event that the little one can fly-“

Tav: “if she can WHAT?” 😮

-Wyll arriving with the Baldurian equivalent of a secret service security detail that gets on the way of everything. The cottage is already…so small. 💀 but he comes with like…a caravan of gifts and supplies so really they need the manpower to lug that up the hill, anyway

-Shads getting her first labor contractions and Tav just doubling over like a sack of potatoes because of the warding bond rings 😅

-Karlach coming with a whole wheelbarrow of stuffed animals to meet her goddaughter🥹💕 which she promptly dumps in their already-way-too-small bedroom until there’s no space to walk.

-Astarion fighting with one of the cottage cats for a rat that he “saw first 🙄” bc this is taking forever and it’s been over 12 hours since he last drained a criminal.

-Shadowheart begging Gale to cast silence across the entire cottage so she can finally get some fucking peace and quiet. His new lover from Waterdeep is having second thoughts seeing this weird family 😭

-Arnell, Emmeline, and Amelia staring at this group wondering how the fuck they saved Faerun. Jaheira finally has found her people: The Older and exasperated group™️

-Shadowheart complains that it’s taking too long and Withers just pops in out of nowhere with a classic “fate spins along as it should”, startling everyone, and Shadowheart nearly decapitates him in her pain

-Minsc suggesting that they name the baby “Minsc” 😭

-Isobel and Shadowheart finding common ground in being the only two relatively normal ones there 😅 makes them realize they might have a lot more in common than previously thought.

[himbodruid]

A Devil and A Bard

Part 3

Raphael x F!Tav

Named!Tav | Bard!Tav

Probably gonna have to post these to ao3 because it refuses to let me link parts 1 and 2 and idk why 😭

Anyway.

Here to put our devil through some ✨turmoil✨

But its okay because theres some bonus 🌶️🌶️ at the end to make up for it

Part 1 -:- Part 2

18+ only, minors DNI

Chapter 3: In Which a Devil Has a Startling Realization

So much had happened in such a short span of time. Despite best efforts, the city lay in ruin before Lore as she stood atop a cliffside overlooking the destruction. The netherbrain still lay in rotting respite in the Chionthar, the city lacking resources to properly dispose of it. Not after half the buildings lay in rubble and citizens still searched for loved ones a week later.

It was a grand failure. One that Lore would regret for the rest of her miserable existence. An existence that currently reeked of the viscera of the fallen Bhaalists scattered along the meadow behind her.

Her biggest failure was with her friends. After her first foray with the devil, she found she couldn’t stay away. She visited him in the Devil’s Den almost nightly, each turn sowing further distrust in her companions. It ended chaotically, but she couldn’t form a regret for the pleasure she found in his bed.

Still.

She failed Karlach, her fate drawing her to the fiery end she preferred to going back to Avernus.

She failed Wyll, neglecting to save his father or free him from his pact.

Gale’s expression of betrayal as he left without so much as a goodbye, to return to Waterdeep and the friends that wouldn’t disappoint him so deeply.

Shadowheart, Halsin, Jahiera…all of them gone.

Her biggest regret, however, was the only person who didn’t judge her choice of bed partner. Dearest Astarion. She condemned him to a life back in the shadows for her own selfish reasons. Sure, she convinced him that seven thousand lives wasn’t worth it, but she also didn’t want to see her best friend turn into a monster.

None of it mattered now. Not when her own soul was forfeit as a result of losing the crown to the Chionthar.

Really, she was surprised Raphael hadn’t come to collect his due sooner. She imagined that he was too busy roiling in rage in the hells to bother.

The sound of flames and a waft of brimstone announced his arrival. He stood some paces behind her, observing the gore and destruction she had caused to befall the group of Bhaalists. They weren’t the first group she had fought since ending Orin over a week ago. But it would be her last.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would come to collect your due,” she drawled slowly, not turning towards Raphael. He crossed his arms, donning that impassive expression he much loved.

“Such a somber mood for a celebrated mouse,” he replied. She felt her lips twitch in a mirthless chuckle. Celebrated? No. She didn’t miss the accusing glares when she wandered the streets. She may have helped save the city from mindflayers, but her decisions still led to its destruction. Some people also apparently loved the pretty lies that Gortash painted with his words, and she had ended that hope too.

“There isn’t much to be celebrated in this amount of failure.”

“On the contrary, the Illithid threat has been subdued. A fate far worse than a city reduced to rubble. Cities can be rebuilt, but there is no returning from ceremorphosis.”

Lore lifted her eyes from the grass at her feet, watching as the sun began its descent below the horizon.

“My only request is to watch the sun set this one last time,” she choked out. The pain was becoming unbearable, and it wouldn’t be long until he would have his prize.

“Little mouse, I have use for you on this plane, yet,” came Raphael’s dismissal. Little did he know…

Lore’s legs finally gave out and she slumped to the ground. The hard impact of her knees sent searing pain through her and she hissed. Whatever Raphael was about to say next died on his lips as his eyes narrowed on the bloodied hand that fell to her side. His nostrils flared as he observed their surroundings more closely, realizing that the large puddle of blood below her was growing rather than being absorbed into the dirt. And her scent permeated the shifting wind. Long strides brought him to her side quickly, and the source of so much blood became apparent.

Poking at a diagonal angle from her abdomen was the broken head of a spear. The hand that now rested at her side had been trying in vain to hold everything in place. The pained breaths became shallow, her blinks lasting longer and longer and soon she wouldn’t open her eyes at all.

Spitting a curse, he burst into his cambion form and scooped her against his chest. She rested limply in his arms as he transported them to the House of Hope, appearing in his boudoir in a flurry and plunging the both of them into the healing pool. He sat on the ledge with her laid limply in his arms and he ripped the pike head out of her gut so the healing waters could stitch the wound closed. Her ragged breathing soon evened out.

But it was too late.

She looked up at him with those piercing ice eyes of hers and lifted a shaking hand to his cheek while he peered down at her.

“Beautiful,” she murmured. He watched as the last of the light left her eyes and her hand fell back into the water with the softest of splashes.

She drew her final breath there, in his arms, while rage boiled beneath the surface. He couldn’t kill the ones that did this to her, but he would rip their souls from Bhaal and flay them open, torture them for the rest of their existence for taking her from him. And then he would seek his revenge further by eliminating every single member of the remaining cult.

She was his gods-damnit! He had plans for her! She was to sit at his right hand as he ruled the hells, to be his archduchess!

His body trembled as the rage grew and he leaned down, placing a soft kiss against her forehead after easing her eyes closed. He worked his jaw, trying to clamp down on the anger that threatened to boil the water around them.

He didn't react to the sound of someone entering the room behind him, the lilting voice of Haarlep filtering into the room.

“My, my, getting cozy withou-“ his words were cut short as he spotted the discarded bloodied pike head. His gaze flicked to Raphael’s hunched back, almost scared to utter the words.

“Little mouse?” He asked, almost reverently. The only answer he received was a single shake of Raphael’s head. Selfish creature he may be, but he came to rather enjoy the little bard and her quick wit paired with her sharp tongue.

Haarlep strode forward, easing into the water in front of Raphael. The devil’s eyes were hooded in shadow, but Haarlep could see the slightest tremble roll through him as he fought to contain his temper.

And Lore. Beautiful Lore. She lay limply in his arms, still covered in an obscene amount of blood. Haarlep tsked and made to reach for her.

Raphael’s eyes flashed feral and he growled with a show of fangs, all while clutching her tighter to him. Haarlep’s expression hardened and his hand retreated.

“You weren’t the only one that cared for her,” he snapped. “She deserves more dignity than being covered head to toe in gore.”

At his words, Raphael’s eyes seemed to focus. He looked back down at her, tenderly swiping a matted strand of hair from her face. Haarlep moved forward again. This time, Raphael let him near. Together they set about reverently cleansing her of viscera, removing her clothing as to wash every bit of it from her travel bronzed skin. Skin that no longer bore the damage from her battle with the cultists.

When they were done, Raphael lifted her from the pool. A snap of fingers and she was wrapped in the most luxurious robe that he could summon. He lay her delicately on the velvet settee that was positioned in the corner opposite the bed, and Haarlep began braiding her raven hair.

So perfect she was, that she only appeared to be sleeping.

Raphael reached out, softly caressing her cheek with the back of his hand while that hardened fury bubbled back to the surface.

His beautiful mouse, reduced to this. He should have sought her out sooner, gotten over himself and his damned hard headed anger at temporarily losing the crown.

I should have made her mine well before those damned cultists could get their hands on her.

He could have given her protection, an extended life as his archduchess. He would have made sure she would want for nothing. He would have paraded his clever mouse, his prize, for all the hells to see. He was surprised to find that he didn’t care if others thought his attachment to her a weak human emotion. So long as he had her by his side as he conquered the hells.

But all those carefully laid plans burned in the fires of Avernus. He still owned her soul, but to have her come back as a debtor would make her a shell of her former self. And, hells, he didn’t know if he could handle that. He needed her in all her mortal glory. He needed to see those ice blue eyes of hers twinkling with mischief, to hear her lilting voice singing ballads in their honour.

Gods, how could he even admit to himself that he’s lowered himself to falling for a mortal. But fall he did, and her existence haunted his every waking moment. Ever since the day he first brought her to the House of Hope and she ignored his thinly veiled threats to stuff bread into her bag from his feasting table.

He stood abruptly, removing himself from the room. Haarlep remained by Lore’s side, listening to the sounds of Raphael’s destruction through the doorway. He was surprised at the level of attachment the master had to this little mortal, but he would be lying if he said he also wasn’t drawn to her. She’d had a particular air about her that sparked life into every room she entered. He had been tasked to spy on the master, but she was a secret the both of them shared that he would never divulge.

And now she was gone. Oh how he would mourn the loss of her friendship. When she looked at him, he felt like she saw through the façade and really saw him beneath the glamour. He wore Raphael’s pretty face, but she spoke to his individual identity those few times she visited the house.

Raphael’s rage-fuelled destruction finally ended and he reentered the boudoir. He was still seething, but he settled on the edge of the lounge beside Lore almost reverently.

“Little mouse,” he said, stroking her cheek once more. “What am I to do without you? All of my carefully laid plans, gone with your final breath.”

He leaned forward, pressing a solemn kiss to her lips and then the pair of fiends fell into silence. Raphael had to rearrange his plans now that the main player was out. But he found he couldn’t focus. Grief was too human for his liking, but he had to admit to himself that is what he felt.

Hours passed, and Raphael had left the room only once more to retrieve paperwork and a stool, in which he sat facing away from her. He needed to call on her contract and collect her soul. It was vastly regretful but-

“Raphael?” Came a soft sound. He froze, sure that Haarlep’s cruelty wouldn’t fall that low. A small hand rested against his back and his heart leapt painfully. Surely not..

He peeked over his shoulder, gaze landing on Haarlep who had dozed off sitting against the wall. His heart clenched and his eyes traveled behind him. The sight of her half-lidded blues stole his breath.

He leapt from the stool, the clattering sound jolting Haarlep awake. Seeing his master knelt beside Lore, clenching her hand with wide unbelieving eyes sent him rushing by her side too.

“How is this possible?” Haarlep breathed. Lore blinked hard, as if she had just awoken from a hard slumber.

“Everything was dark, but I heard you. I heard the sadness in your voice and I couldn’t bear it,” she said weakly. “So I followed it.”

She followed his voice from the in-between instead of going to the after. The resonation of it drew her like a moth to a flame, and after stumbling around in the dark for a time, she had finally found the out. Opening her eyes to see Raphael in his cambion form beside her had made her heart swell. She had to foolishly admit to herself that she had fallen for the handsome devil, and seeing his blazing eyes desperately search her face, she entertained the notion that maybe he felt something in return.

She shuddered, a bone deep chill settling over her as if death lashed out at her for escaping his grasp. “I’m cold.”

Her simple statement sent Raphael and Haarlep both into a flurry of action. Raphael scooped her up into his arms and Haarlep retreated to the bed, pulling the duvet back. She was placed in the direct center, while each fiend climbed up on either side of her. She was nestled against Raphael, his lips brushing the crown of her hair. She intertwined herself with him, all but purring as his hellish heat poured into her. His wing rested over her as Haarlep curled against her back.

She never felt more safe as she did in that moment. She couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face and she lifted her head. Her eyes flitted over him, so sure she was that she would never see him again as she lay dying in his arms. Her hand came up to caress his jaw.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, repeating her dying words. But this time she leaned into him, pressing her lips against his.

It was an unhurried kind of kiss, at least it started out like that. But as her hands roamed the broad expanse of his chest, she could feel his pulse quicken. Gods but how he ignited need within her, even as exhausted as she was.

She coaxed his mouth open, her hand sneaking its way into his robe and-

His own hand came up to stop her advance and he broke the kiss. She whined but he didn’t relent.

“You need rest, Little Mouse,” he murmured against her lips.

“I need you,” she replied. He chuckled.

“Little mouse, you have me until the end of days.”

Bonus Content:

Lore was tired.

Tired of being doted on so thoroughly. You die once and your fiends never leave your side!

Blech.

What really frustrated her was Raphael’s continued refusal of her advances. Gods, but he had a way of getting under her skin without even trying. It took all of her effort not to climb him like a tree when he would come visit her.

Well, now she was done resting. So strung was she, that she was very near seeking out Haarlep, though the incubus had been warned to keep his hands off. No matter, she was certain the original fiery-eyed devil was the only one that could satisfy the itch anyway.

So, she set about laying her trap. His oversized robe hung loosely on her, baring a shoulder as she lounged in his bed. She had waved Haarlep off earlier in the day, intent on having Raphael to herself. So pent up was she that her hand trailed down her body, lower, lower, until it came into contact with her mound. Gods she ached for him, to be filled and fucked so thoroughly by her devil.

She closed her eyes and touched herself, giving in to the fantasy of Raphael watching her pleasure herself in his bed. When her eyes opened, she realized that fantasy had quickly become a reality.

He sat in a chair, watching her. The game was to entice him, so she sat up and spread his robes around her. Now bared to him, she resumed touching herself while her eyes remained locked on his. The sounds she made were all part of the game, though genuine moans slipped from her when she saw his eyes flicker over her body.

“Enjoying yourself, mouse?” His voice was thick and growly with his barely restrained desire. She tilted her head and affected a pout.

“Not at all, it’s missing something.”

He stood, sauntering to the edge of the bed and raising a brow. She didn’t miss the growing bulge in his trousers, or the way his eyes hungrily devoured her.

“And what would that be, little mouse?”

She shifted to the edge, laying back with the robe spread wide and her hair fanned out on the silken sheets beneath her. She used her legs to hook around his hips and draw him in further, that clothed bulge dragging along where she needed him most. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her.

“I need you, Raphael, that delicious cock of yours fucking me until i can no longer think.” Her hips lifted from the bed to add emphasis to her words.

His composure snapped, then. A quick flash of flames and he was naked in his cambion form, bent low over her to meld his lips to hers. Hands tangled in his hair and ankles locked behind him, there was no escaping her now.

His hips jerked forward, almost violently sheathing himself in her heat fully.

“Fuck, Raphael,” she cried out. She would never grow tired of how those ridges dragged and pulled at her walls, of how the girth of him stretched her so, so deliciously. It took only a few more thrusts of his talented hips before she was thrown over the edge. She clung to him, digging her nails into his back in the way she knew he enjoyed. He growled his approval, the pace of his hips quickening until he was virtually pushing her across the bed with how aggressively he slammed into her. It appeared she wasn’t the only one strung tightly in barely restrained lust the entire time he denied her.

The frenzied, feral coupling sent her spiraling at least twice more. She could feel his control slipping with every shuddering thrust until he was pounding into her with unrestrained force. It would probably hurt if it didn’t feel so fucking good, and gods the grunts, growls, and moans he emitted sent her over the edge again and again and again.

This. This is exactly what she needed, what she wanted. Feral and unrestrained fucking that sent her writhing in pleasure underneath his mass. She half wondered if he would knot her, though in all their other trysts it never happened again.

Her answer came soon. Well, he came, anyway. His hips snapped forward, pressed into her so impossibly deep as his moans and growls mingled with her pleasured cries. She felt the heat of him spilling in her, even as he pulled back only to pump forward again and again as he rode the high of his climax.

And still he wasn’t through. Even without the knot he felt so impossibly thick as he began to drive himself in and out of her eager cunt again. He pulled them through the overstimulation, crashing into the waves of climax again and again, dragging out their pleasure until neither could take anymore.

He had so thoroughly ruined her, and she couldn’t complain as he finally collapsed on top of her. Satiated like she never had been before, she stroked the length of his body in gentle caresses.

He refused to admit it out loud, but she knew Raphael loved her in his way. Just as she stubbornly refused to admit she reciprocated the feeling.

They were both idiots, but they were idiots that would rule the hells together.

[scuttlingcrab]

To the Hells and Back

The Devil's Den

Summary: Minthara makes a proposition to Raphael, very much against her will, for an alliance. It's the perfect plan: Raphael gets Avernus and she will get her vengeance against Zariel for Karlach's death. However, Raphael is not a fan of anything that takes the spotlight away from him. No matter what, Minthara will get what she wants... whether the Devil likes it or not.

You can find Chapter 01 here.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Chapter 02 on AO3 as well.

(Image via bg3-fox-trail)

After centuries of traversing planes, scouring souls and scheming for his eventual domination of the Hells, Raphael seldom found mortals anything but disappointing. 

To any Devil, these vile creatures were nothing more than an appetiser, a light snack before they moved on to bigger and better things. No matter their social status or how well they could mesmerise Raphael with their various artistic talents, it was all a facade. On the exterior, they appeared well-to-do and haughty, but in reality they were rotting at the core, devoid of any ambitions save for their own greed and vanity. The lot of them. The mortals’ lacklustre views on life bored Raphael to tears, and all the petty deals that came with them.

Even now, with the Crown of Karsus finally in his possession and with a far greater list of priorities piling up around him, mortals still flocked to his door, seeking his services. And naturally, Raphael obliged his own primal instincts, knowing that each soul would only make him more powerful in the end and serve him well in his endeavours. 

He cursed them all the same. 

Soon he wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. Soon the Hells would be his. And he could finally end this farce once and for all. 

The Devil quickly halted his wavering thoughts, massaging his hands together as he redirected his attention back towards the unexpected guest in front of him. 

As he stared at Minthara Baenre, with her teeth bared and knuckles white from clenching her fists, something else stirred within his being. Something that reeked of nostalgia, yearning for a time that nearly consumed him whole.

His breath quickened as he observed the Drow, a thousand thoughts flying through his mind like arrows. He titled his head curiously at the tension building, a hint of a smile threatening to show on his lips and break his cool composition. He would not give himself away so easily, or that he delighted being in such a chaotic presence once again.  

She was frozen in the centre of the room, struggling to break free from the holding spell Raphael had on her. He took a step closer, pacing around her and observing his latest acquisition as if she was but an artefact in an exhibit. 

Minthara's eyes were full of fire and fury as they travelled Raphael’s body, watching him move around her, undoubtedly imagining the various ways she would slay him should she have the opportunity. He could still remember the vicious threats she growled in his direction when they first met in this very room, when he had made the greatest proposition of his career, and when the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate still travelled together. 

It was hard to predict why Minthara decided to call upon Raphael that morning, but he knew what she might offer in return could be something worth listening to. Anyone who had once travelled with Tav, who had aided in destroying the Elder Brain itself, and ultimately won his unending curiosity, would be a benefit to his conquests.

Raphael slithered to his rosewood desk at the back of the room, crossing his arms as he casually leaned against it. 

“Hmm. I suppose that’ll do.” At Raphael’s words, the spell ended. 

Minthara gasped, nearly falling to her knees. She swiftly recovered, instead going straight for her dagger and lunging towards Raphael. She grappled him in one easy move, asserting dominance over his person as she pushed him against the wine rack. The bottles rattled as she snarled at him, the weapon now held at his throat.

“You take me for a fool, Devil. ” Minthara tore the last words apart in her mouth, digging the dagger deeper into his skin. 

Raphael raised his hands in surprise, mock wincing as if he was performing this scene in front of an audience.  

“I see you haven’t changed, Minthara. Have you grown bored of your pursuit of Menzoberranzan already?” Raphael smiled, “Though don’t tell me you’ve come to strike a deal in order to return home? How dull.”

Minthara’s eyes widened at the mention of her old home in the Underdark, but the shocked expression disappeared faster than a flame. She twisted the dagger in his neck, drawing blood.

“Go on,” Raphael yawned, “humour yourself, slit a Devil’s throat, but I will be less cooperative when I’m forced to clean blood off one of my favourite doublets.” 

The two locked eyes and for a brief moment, the world stopped for Raphael. He met Minthara’s deeping scowl with his most dashing grin. He could do this all day. There was nothing he loved more than riling up mortals and seeing them crumble from the mounting pressures of the unknown. He had nothing to lose, he never did. Minthara narrowed her eyes before cursing to herself and jumping back. She kept the dagger raised in his direction however, ready to pounce at the next chance she could get.

“Well, I for one am glad that’s settled. I do hate these frivolous mortal games, but I would expect nothing less from a Baenre.” 

Raphael snapped his fingers, summoning a handkerchief in an elaborate display of sparks. He lightly dabbed the wound on his neck, before proceeding to delicately wipe down his hands of the remaining filth. With a flick of his wrist, the handkerchief disappeared, along with any trace of blood or previous signs of struggle. 

“Now, what is it you would like to discuss?”

There was a long pause as Raphael watched Minthara fight with herself on what words she would utter next. She took a deep breath, before straightening her posture and tilting her head up proudly. 

“I have come to make a proposition.” She finally responded, sheathing her weapon. 

Raphael raised his eyebrows, biting the side of his tongue in anticipation. 

“I seek entrance to Avernus, to the frontlines.”

“Oh? Are we planning a holiday?”

“I’m planning on killing Zariel.” 

“You?” Raphael couldn’t help himself, he erupted into laughter, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “If it is death you seek, be my guest. I will summon a portal here and now just to watch for myself. She will eat you for supper, my dear. And you will serve as a brief distraction at best.”

“Hold your laughter.” Minthara hissed. “I have yet to see you claim Avernus. Tell me, Devil. You have the Crown and yet you are still here. Why?” 

Raphael tensed, any previous bouts of laughter evaporating into thin air.

In truth, not long had passed since he secured the Crown of Karsus from the bottom of the River Chionthar, wasting more time than he would’ve liked to admit picking up the pieces and painstakingly reforging it in his image. Precious time he’ll never get back, wasted when he could’ve been obliterating Zariel’s forces and getting closer to his ambitions of uniting the Hells.

Raphael had been calculating this exact moment the day he was banished from Cania. Thousands of years to ensure all the right pieces were set in place before he even had the Crown in his possession, recruiting all the right soldiers to his cause and lining them up so perfectly on the battlefield as if he was playing a game of lanceboard. 

Even then, his plans were met with backlash. Ripping off Zariel’s wings should’ve been as easy as crushing an insect, but he was barely able to make an indent against her never-ending legions. And now the Drow was coming to rub these blatant failures in his face.

“One fight against an Elder Brain and you think you can defeat an Archdevil.”  

“Zariel is mine, I will have her head, whether you like it or not.” Minthara smiled, “You can sit back and watch me do all the wo–” 

Fire erupted from Raphael’s fists, the flames turned blue as they crawled up his forearms. He took a commanding step towards Minthara and shed his mortal skin. Wings exploded from his back, horns sprouted from the top of his head and dug into the ceiling of the suite. He loomed above the Drow, bearing his fangs as his tail thrashed behind him, destroying his desk in one swing. 

“I will not stand idly by as I am insulted by a mortal. You have overstayed your welcome.” 

Raphael raised his claws above Minthara, so close to wrapping them around her brittle neck and sending her to the Hells the old fashioned way. Decapitation . She didn’t flinch at the growing heat or at the claws that remained inches from her face, there was no sign of fear in her piercing eyes, unlike most mortals who had been in this exact predicament. Minthara instead edged closer to Raphael, making it clear she was not backing down. 

“You interrupted me before I could get to the point of why I am here. We have a common enemy. Is that not obvious? You will still get Avernus, all the glory and attention you want, and I will have my vengeance.”

Raphael huffed angrily, causing a burst of fire to shoot out of his nostrils. The Drow had a point. The more Raphael turned those words over and over in his brain, considering the alliance and how it could expedite his ascension, the more it angered him. Why didn’t he think of it first? 

Perhaps he would humour Minthara, use her so he could get the final kill instead. Yes . Once Zariel was at her weakest, moments before her demise he would sweep in for the finishing kill. Raphael grinned at the thought, his eyes flickering with mischief. 

Thump, thump, thump. 

A timid knock came from the door, barely audible over the flames that roared around Raphael. His next guest . He viciously snapped his fingers, returning to his mortal disguise and rectifying the destruction around him. 

“Thank you for your visit, and for the interesting offer. I will think about it.”

Minthara opened her mouth to counter, no doubt aiming to insult him a second time, but Raphael waved his hand, teleporting the Drow away from his room.  

He took a deep breath, massaging the bridge between his nose before walking towards the entranceway. 

“Please come in, Rufus.“ Raphael clapped his hands, opening the door and gifting the mortal his most flourishing bow. “Let’s get to business, shall we?” 

---

Minthara was on her knees, fingers digging into the dirt to keep herself from toppling over. She despised teleportation, it always left a sour taste in her mouth. Her ears rang, head throbbing as the world continued to spin around her.

She was going to kill that damned Devil. But first , she needed to rid the Hells of Zariel. 

She kept her eyes focused on the ground, deeping her breathing, until she no longer felt like vomiting. Soon, the sounds of mortals chattering, creaking carts and boisterous farm animals filled the air once again. She looked up, realising she was back outside Sharess’ Caress. People continued to pass her, kicking up dirt in every direction. These mortals carried on with their simple lives, blissfully unaware of the monstrosity that lurked above them. 

Minthara let out a pained sigh, rising to her feet and brushing the dirt from her knees. She glared in the direction of the Devil’s Den, anger pulsing through her veins at the notion of Raphael discarding her like rubbish.  

She reached for her dagger, gripping the hilt as she contemplated her next steps, wishing she had slit the Devil’s throat, if only to cause his blood to boil.

All Minthara could do was wait. For now. Whether Raphael would heed her offer or not, she would find a way to exact her revenge. Not only for Karlach, her beloved , but to parade Zariel’s head around in front of Raphael just to spite him.

---

“Psst, wake up sleepyhead.” Karlach whispered, lightly nudging Minthara. 

The words echoed in Minthara’s mind, pulling her from slumber. She stretched wide in her bedroll, brushing up against Karlach’s warm body. 

“What is it, my love?” Minthara responded, through a yawn. “Don’t tell me we’ve overslept… when there’s still blood to shed?”

That thought alone caused Minthara to open her eyes and she immediately shot up, ready to jump out of her bedroll and run into whatever battle awaited outside the tent. 

Karlach chuckled, reaching towards her. She delicately placed her hands on Minthara’s shoulders, massaging them. 

“No, just relax. Here . With me.” 

Minthara leaned back, finding comfort from the warmth of Karlach’s body, and how she expertly found each knot in her back. 

“Perhaps you should consider a new profession when we’re through.” Minthara whispered, closing her eyes.

“Oh? That could actually be f—“

Karlach’s hands tensed, her nails digging into Minthara’s shoulders. The heat from Karlach’s hands intensified, as if she had just submerged them into a furnace. Before Minthara could even react, Karlach screamed, ripping her hands away from her.

Minthara rolled around to face Karlach, but her body was covered in flames. Karlach’s face contorted in pain as she keeled over. She writhed around on the floor, desperately scratching at her chest as if she was attempting to rip out her own heart.

“Karlach…”

Minthara reached towards Karlach as the flames exploded, but found herself unable to move. She could only sit there, paralysed as she watched Karlach consumed by the fire. 

The smell of sulfur suddenly filled the air around her, sneaking into her senses like a snake in the grass. Her eyes watered as the scent strengthened. Minthara opened her lips, attempting to speak out to Karlach, but her tongue was heavy; sticking to the bottom of her mouth. Minthara clenched her teeth as her chest grew heavier and heavier, making it harder to breathe… to concentrate… to… 

Minthara’s vision blurred as she toppled over, pulled from one nightmare and into another. 

When she opened her eyes, Karlach was gone but Raphael now stood above her bedside. She had secured a small room in a random, cheap inn outside Wyrm's Crossing. The bed she was lying in was cheap and uncomfortable, the sheets were drenched with sweat and tangled around her frame. The Devil chuckled to himself as he watched Minthara, wearing that same shit eating grin she despised.

“It seems we have a deal. Battle awaits, Nightwarden.”

"What are you do–"

A blistering portal opened in front of Minthara, battle cries and screams of pain and anguish poured from the circular entrance. She grimaced at the high temperatures pouring from the opening and the rancid stench of the Hells. Minthara could only see orange coloured skies from where she lay, but a lump formed in her throat all the same. It didn’t stop her from wondering what horrors remained out of view. 

“After you.” Raphael spoke as he walked towards the portal, “And let’s make this quick. I don’t have all day.”

To be continued...

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, consent, cw: alcohol

WC: 1.7k words, 9/18 chapters

Summary: Set during that one rest between Act 2 and Act 3 -- they talk about consent a bit, establishing their hug-boundaries.

Ao3 | [Hug8][Hug10] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Tonight you’ve set up camp in a fortress, just one sleep away from your final destination: Baldur’s Gate. You’ve never been so anxious, so excited, felt so many different emotions, just from staring at the city you call home.

It’s been a difficult journey, one that your companions have felt just as deeply as you have. So when you see the city illuminated in the distance, you know it’s a welcome sight for you all– a true victory, one that not even the Absolute can take from you.

As their de facto leader, you know this is a time for the group to celebrate its win. And you just know that the view from the battlements is better than anything you can get from your tents down here. “Hey!” you call out to your group. A few perk up from their nightly routines, several start to walk over. “Who wants to climb that tower over there? I bet you we can see all of Baldur’s Gate from up there.”

It doesn’t take long before the entire party is clamoring up the ladder to reach the heights above you. Not even Gale, who’s making the entire climb through groans and cries about his bad knees, would miss this view.

You’re the first to reach the top, leading the pack up and climbing with practiced efficiency. As soon as you raise your head, your breath catches. It’s beautiful, you think to yourself. And it truly is, lit up like the beacon of hope you know it to be. Home.

As you walk to the edge of the tower, you can hear your companions filing in behind you. “There it is! Even after a decade, it’s lovely as ever!” Karlach extols enthusiastically.

“I’ve only been away for seven years, but my heart is no less elated,” Wyll responds, his eye crinkling in excitement.

“I’ve only been away for a few months, and I don’t understand how adventurers do this for years,” Astarion grumbles. “You both must have backs made of steel to sleep on the ground this often.” He easily takes his place next to you, arms-crossed, shoulder nudging yours ever so slightly as he stops. You nudge back a bit, but continue to stare out into the slumbering city, listening to your companions banter.

Karlach laughs a bit bitterly before saying, “Didn’t have much of a choice. Though I will say that you hardly notice what you’re sleeping on when you’re busy destroying demons.”

“Well, I still notice while destroying cultists,” the vampire responds, voice tinged with annoyance. Then to you he asks, “And what are you so enchanted by?” He leans into you more, and your body ends up at an awkward angle.

“We're so close," you say, simply, allowing yourself to rest on the crenellation next to you for balance. As it so often happens with him, you’re reminded of a cat demanding attention. “Aren’t you looking forward to it?”

He scoffs, lightly jostling you as he does so. “Of course I am, Cazador won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You grin at that, recalling your earlier conversations with Astarion, who was so worried that fighting Cazador would be impossible. Your group has faced the impossible now, facing a mad vampire lord seemed right within your grasp. “Damn right,” you say, finally turning to look at him, only to find his face incredibly close, eyes staring at you intently. “What’s the matter?”

Astarion looks back at the rest of your group, conversing amongst themselves, pointing out buildings in the cityscape, otherwise wholly preoccupied. Satisfied, he turns back to you and pouts. “Darling, would it kill you to hug me every once in a while?”

You startle, what is he talking about? Thinking back, you’re certain you hug him quite a bit, more than once in a while. You say as much, “Love, is your head alright? I swear I gave you a hug just yesterday.”

He continues to lean into you, but keeps his arms firmly crossed. “Yes, of course you hug me back,” he starts, tone explanatory. “But you barely ever hug me first. I can only think of one such instance and, while I much appreciated it, I would appreciate more.”

His words ring true, you realize. You’re not sure how much of it is a choice that you’ve consciously made or if it’s born of your underlying worry. It hasn’t been long since you entered this new phase in your relationship, and the past couple of weeks have been a lot of trial and error to get to a place of some comfort and understanding. As such, you know exactly why you’ve been careful, consciously or not. “I don’t want to touch you if you’re not ready for it,” you say, tilting your head toward his, whispering your words away from the rest of the group.

The vampire freezes a moment, his eyebrows knitting into a look of concern. “While I appreciate the sentiment, darling, a hug isn’t exactly carnal.”

You give him a flat look. “Of course it isn’t,” you respond back. “But it’s still… intimate. You should be allowed to decide when that happens. If you hug me, I know you want it to happen.”

Astarion finally uncrosses his arms, only to rub at his temple in exasperation. “Ugh, you’re being disgustingly considerate,” he says, closing his eyes. “It’s times like this that I wonder how we’ve even gotten this far.”

“Hey!” you exclaim in indignation. Lowering your voice again, you continue, “You know you’re the only one I’m this considerate to. I even told Gale we don’t have time for his little shopping trip.”

The vampire opens his eyes and shoots you a wry smile. “Ah, the very epitome of an unflinching leader. Besides, we both know you’ll give in to him anyway.”

“I will not,” you say, without much conviction.

“Regardless,” he says, holding up a hand. “I appreciate your kindness, but I am not a porcelain doll– as much as I may look it.” Astarion tilts his head up, as if to catch the starlight in his silver hair.

Pursing your mouth, you consider his words. Have I been too careful? “I… know that. I’m sorry, love. I’ll work on that, alright?”

“I know how you could start,” his eyes twinkle at you expectantly. 

“With a hug?”

“Yes, gods, just hug me already.”

Some part of you still worries, still hesitates, but in the light of Astarion’s pleading expression they melt away a bit. Facing the silhouette of the city you both call home, you wrap an arm around him and pull him into your side. “Like this?” you turn to ask him, noses almost touching.

“Mmm, it shall do,” he answers softly, leaning into your hug, touching his nose to yours for a moment before looking out at the city. “What a romantic scene we've stumbled into. I can see why bards write about it.”

You hum in agreement, tilting your head to touch his. “Maybe if we save this gods forsaken city a few bards will pick up our tale.”

“In that case,” he starts, finally wrapping his own arm around you, squeezing you to him. “We’d best make it memorable.”

You stand in each others’ arms for a while, occasionally pointing at the city as you spot places you’d like to share with each other. You’re not sure how long you spend staring out at Baldur’s Gate together before your companions jolt you back to reality.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” You both turn in unison without hesitation to the source of the interruption, Karlach. Her and the rest of the group have gathered back at the ladder.

It’s Shadowheart that responds, “It’s getting a bit chilly up here. What do you say we pop open a bottle of wine and celebrate our return home?”

“As long as it’s not firewine,” you reply, shuddering at the idea of drinking any more of that swill. Pulling Astarion by the torso, you start to move toward the group.

He tugs you back gently, ignoring your questioning eyes to call to the group, “We’ll be down in a bit, not done here quite yet.”

“Suit yourselves! But take too long and I will drink all the good shit!” Karlach says, laughing as she heads down the ladder. The rest follow right behind her, their words and footsteps fading on the night’s breeze.

Once they’ve left, you look back at your lover, eyebrow raised. “And what aren’t we done with yet?”

“Our hug, obviously,” he says, waving his free hand at you. “Or did you really think a paltry one-armed hug would satisfy a man of such appetites?”

You only take a second to process his words before gladly diving into him with both of your arms. You wrap Astarion in an all-encompassing embrace, a vice-grip full of love and warmth. “Better?” you ask, turning your head to the crook of his neck.

“Much,” he sighs into your hair, reciprocating the hug with no hesitation. A moment passes in a silent buzz of happiness, before he speaks again. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” he begins. “But here, in your arms, it almost feels like I’ve already made it back home.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, but you’ve gotten better at surviving his sincere compliments. “You’re right, I should hug you more often.”

“I knew you would see reason,” he laughs. “And if you're ever worried about hugging me, you're quite welcome to ask. Now, since you always ask so nicely, would you allow me to kiss you?”

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you nod. “Yes, please.”

Astarion smiles at you, an unfiltered joy shining in his eyes. His cool fingers cup your chin as he pulls your face toward his. Your eyes close as your lips meet his in a slow, tender kiss. With the city as your backdrop and this lovely man in your arms, the world feels more focused, your purpose clearer. Baldur’s Gate awaits you, and you’ve never been so eager to answer its call.

[thatfreshi]

"Quit" (Uni AU P. 17)

GUYS IT'S BEEN SO LONG BUT FRESHIAU IS BACK! Sorry for the hell of a cliffhanger I gave you, whoopsies :)

tw - mentions of abuse, hospitalization

The next half-hour is a blur unlike any you've known before. You, Gale, and Karlach pile into the art student's shitty mini-van.

"I'm sure he's okay Tav."

Karlach tries to give you an assuring hand on the shoulder, but you think back to the phone call, the way the nurse wouldn't tell you anything, how you yelled in the middle of a damn cafe. It would be embarrassing if you didn't know the stakes that were in this trip to the hospital, that Astarion isn't the type for medical assistance unless it's absolutely necessary.

Other than Karlach's comment and the occasional flick of a blinker, the car is almost entirely silent. Gale drops you off at the front before leaving to park, and your tall friend stays by your side as you enter the sterile, sad building. When you get to the desk, she speaks on your behalf.

"We got a call that Astarion Ancunín was admitted here?"

"What's your relation to the patient?"

Karlach hesitates, before pushing you forward slightly.

"Well I'm just his friend, but my pal Tav here is his spouse!"

You give her a slightly concerned look, but soften when you know she just wants you to be able to see him.

"You can come back this way Tav."

It's all so quick and without feeling. Truthfully, you know medical professionals deal with this kind of thing on the daily, but the lack of concern for him makes you a little sick to your stomach. The words of your guide fall on deaf ears when you make it to his room, rushing in before she can even finish her sentence. She closes the door behind you as you're met with Astarion, your dear Aster, who looks far more beat down than usual.

"How in the hell did you manage to get back here?"

He asks with a slight smirk, the bags under his eyes far more noticeable than before. You can't help but smile at his charm, but replace it with a bitter expression soon after.

"That's not important right now. What happened?"

The urge to yell and scream is kept at a simmer, and instead your voice is kept soft, like plush moments of reading law papers, like falling asleep with your best friend, like cheap espresso and designer fabrics.

"Severe dehydration I suppose. I passed out, and Petras called an ambulance, which I'm sure got him beat to no end. Stupid decision if you ask me."

"Oh, so you quite literally pass out, and your first reaction is to think about Petras?"

He ponders your words for a moment as you finally sit at the edge of the bed.

"Trust me... I've already had plenty of time to think about just how bad this was. Thankfully when I lost consciousness I only bruised my poor arm, but the doctor said it could've been much worse. Heat stroke, seizures-"

"Okay, let's maybe not talk about all of that."

You start to cry, finally, after a panic-induced state of adrenaline begins to wear off. You get a notification from the group chat. Gale says Lae'zel, Shadowheart, and Wyll Ubered over. You show your phone to him.

"Look, everyone showed up."

You smile softly, feeling a trail of tears hit your lip. It tastes salty.

"Of course they did. You all are far too sappy."

"Oh shut it Aster. We were worried."

"Well it's fine now, right? The issue is resolved, so everyone can go home, including you Tav."

You scoff.

"Fat chance. Besides, Karlach kind of told the nurse that I'm your spouse, so it looks weird if I leave now."

"She did what?"

"Yeah, trust me, it was weird."

He gets a little nervous, showing his age for once, that deep down he's still a 20-something-year-old kid. It stays silent for a little bit, and you listen to the monitors in the room, the almost silent IV drip, the steps of people walking up and down the halls. Your listening is interrupted by a tapping on the bed, Astarion trying to get your attention.

"Yeah?"

"I know I struggle to say it sometimes, well, most times, but I do rather appreciate that you came... that all of you came, but you in particular."

You want to be able to appreciate his words, but the fear that lingers beneath doesn't let you rest.

"I don't want to do it again. I don't know if my heart can handle doing all of this again."

"What else would you have me do darling?"

You know what you want to say, and you know what his response will be, but the words leave your mouth anyways.

"Quit. I want you to quit."

He goes to interrupt you, but you put a finger up to shush him, and he obliges.

"I know it feels impossible. I know you've signed how many documents and that you need the money, but you six incredible friends now that can help you through this. Think about it: if you blackout all your socials, stop showing up, what can he really do about it? Cazador can't get on campus. You'd be safe there, and it will look so bad for his image if you suddenly disappear that he'll be scrambling for PR anyways! I think you can do this, that we can do this."

"And what about the money?"

"Student loans? And we can all pitch in when we have extra. And you could pick up a job on campus, maybe something in the law library?"

You're trying to be inspiring, but looking at him like this makes it hard.

"Why do you keep trying so much for me? Truly, you've wasted so much breath on me, even in this moment."

Somehow those sad questions still catch you off-guard. You put a hand on his.

"I don't think I can even word it right Aster. Even if I tried, I don't think the words would make sense, that any of it would make sense to either of us. Just accept that I'm here, trying for you, okay?"

"Okay... then I'll try too. I'll try your ridiculous plan Tav."