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scratchandfriends · 2 months ago

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First Times (+18)

Pairing: Wyll Ravengard x Female Tav

WC: 2600

Summary: You and Wyll haven't *consummated* your budding romance. Literally no one cares... except Astarion. Okay maybe you two also care, but is it even a big deal?

Content Warnings: LOSS OF VIRGINITY! Virgin Wyll, unprotected sex, creampies, girl on top, kissing, jealous astarion tbh.

— —

“More wine? You seem tense.” Astarion all but purrs at you while holding out the bottle of red wine, tipping its neck in your direction.

You had to admit, you were feeling a bit tired and out of sorts, but how could you not in these particular circumstances? You shrug and allow your vampire companion to fill your cup to the brim with deep, burgundy liquid.

“I can hardly say I’m relaxed, but considering the uninvited guests in our skulls and the cult of lunatics trying to murder us, I’m doing fine, Astarion.” You try to wave his comment off and move on to other matters.

“Are you quite sure? You seem a bit, frustrated as of late.” Astarion pries further, taking a sip from his own cup of wine.

“Perhaps I’m frustrated because a certain snarky, pointy-eared charlatan keeps asking to bite me in the middle of the night when I’m trying to get my beauty rest.” You quip back with a cheeky smirk, emphasizing the word bite.

“Oh but from what I can tell you’re getting plenty of beauty rest, darling. And besides, it’s been few and far between the nights I can catch you alone in your own bedroll for a little sip.” Astarion shifts a bit closer to you seated next to him at the campfire.

He was right. You had been spending most nights in Wyll’s tent lately, sharing conversation and shy kisses well into the wee hours of the morning. Ever since your kiss on the beach after saving the Emerald Grove, the two of you had been exploring your budding romantic relationship a day at a time. It was clear to you from his awkwardness and visible uncertainty that you were the first adult relationship Wyll had engaged in… but you didn’t mind! You found the way he became flustered after each kiss and fleeting touch of your hands against his so very endearing. It also helped that you found him devilishly handsome, no pun intended.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous of where I’ve been spending my evenings.” You take another long drink of wine from your cup…

— —

Today’s battle had left Wyll covered in viscera and grime, so he thought he would rinse off and freshen up in the river before retiring to his tent for the evening. Donning fresh clothing, he shook his head like a dog, river water splattering on the ground around him as he dried his hair.

He couldn’t help but look forward to another night alone with you. Wyll loved your long talks and especially loved holding you close to him… a privilege he felt he didn’t deserve in his current physical form. You always looked at him with adoration in your eyes and for those intimate moments alone he felt almost normal.

Wyll’s heart fluttered at the thought of having you in his bed again, letting you kiss his lips gently between subjects of conversation. He wanted so badly to take your relationship further physically, but his nervousness and anxiety kept him from progressing past kisses and soft touches. He had never laid with a woman before. He wanted nothing more than to provide you with the deepest carnal pleasure that this life allows, but he simply didn’t know the first thing about it.

Shaking the insecurities from his mind, he trudged towards his tent and was about to head inside before he heard your voice coming from the campfire circle. You were talking with someone. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he heard Astarion’s ill intended giggle in response to whatever you had said, he couldn’t help but listen in…

— —

“Hah hah! Jealous? Me? Tav, you wound me!” Astarion puts his hand to his chest in fake offense. “I’m only offering my concern for your pent up nature as of late.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, Astarion.” You say curtly.

“Darling I’m up all hours of the evening, hunting, watching the camp and whatnot. I’ve heard many strange bumps in the night, but absolutely nothing coming from your lawful little warlock’s tent.” Astarion says with a smirk. “I’m not implying anything, I’m saying that I can offer what your lover lacks and give you a well-earned release.”

You roll your eyes.

“I assure you I am quite satisfied and spoken for, thank you very much.” You respond.

“Spoken for, obviously. Satisfied is yet to be seen.” The vampire chides.

“What goes on between my sheets is none of your concern.” You gulp down the rest of your wine. “Keep your fangs out of my love life if you wish to continue to enjoy the privilege of drinking from me.”

You rise to your feet to turn in for the night.

“Have it your way, darling… but if you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” Astarion adds with a devilish smirk.

You scoff and head to your tent. Once inside, you change your clothes into something more comfortable for sleeping and let your hair fall from its high ponytail to cascade down your back. Feeling a bit warm either from the wine or irritation from Astarion’s invasive comments, you decide you want to cuddle up with your favorite warlock for the evening.

Sneaking out of your tent you softly pad over to Wyll’s tent and rap softly at the entrance before pushing your way inside. You find him on his back on his bedroll, one arm behind his head and another holding a book up in front of his face.

“Hey you.” You say with a smile as you settle yourself onto Wyll’s bedroll next to him, nestling yourself into his side.

“Ah, what a beautiful sight.” He says, setting his book down.

“How are you?” You ask.

“Ah, fine.” He says, unable to meet your eyes for some reason.

You pick up on his unease and inquire further.

“Is something wrong?” You lift yourself onto your elbow so you can get a full view of his face.

“No! No of course not… I’m just… surprised to see you here tonight.” Wyll eventually gets out.

“I’m here nearly every night, Wyll… why wouldn’t I be here?” You furrow your brow.

“I heard some of your chat with Astarion.. I thought you might have taken him up on his offer…” Wyll says with a bit of a bitter bite to his words.

You become angry, sitting up fully now.

“You really think I would trade what we have for a frivolous romp with a vampire?” You spit out. “You would believe I’m that shallow?”

“No! It’s not that at all!” Wyll responds defensively, sitting up next to you. “I just thought you.. well… I’m sure you have needs and I… I-I mean w-we…” Wyll stutters pathetically, trying to pacify you as well as articulate his thoughts. “I-it doesn’t bother you? That w-we… haven’t?”

“GODS no!” You say with wide eyes. “If you think my interest in you is purely physical, you’re deeply mistaken. I want you, in every sense, not just like that.” You bring your hand to affectionately stroke his cheek. His eyes finally meet yours, it was clear he was embarrassed by his outburst of insecurity. “Wyll.. my sweet… I’d never rush into anything like that especially if you’re not ready-“

“And what if I said I am ready?” Wyll asks, much to your surprise.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this just because that idiotic-“

“No, not because of him. I’ve been wanting this for some time… really since the night you kissed me, actually… I-I just… don’t want to disappoint you, make a fool of myself..” He interrupts you again, shaking his head.

You chuckle a bit, thumb caressing his face.

“Lovely boy, you could never disappoint me in that way. Of course I want all of you… but only if that’s truly what you desire.” You say as you lean in to nuzzle your nose against his. You notice Wyll’s cheeks flush deeper red.

Wyll smiles at you and tilts his head to press a passionate kiss on your lips. He starts to deepen the kiss by pressing his hand against the back of your head. You hum in contentment and bring your hand to stroke his chest while letting his mouth move against yours.

This kiss was different from the ones you had previously shared. There was an urgency, a neediness in the way Wyll devoured your lips that you had never experienced with him before. He pushes you down onto your back and hovers over you, giving you a chance to breathe.

“You’re sure?” You ask, wanting to be completely certain that he wasn’t acting on impulse due to the goading of his pallid traveling companion.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, I promise.” Wyill assures you with a sweet kiss to your forehead before pulling back again. “Shall we continue?” He asks with a bit of a smirk.

“As you were, then!” You giggle and pull his face into your neck.

You feel Wyll hum in playful approval as his lips graze your sensitive skin. His stubble scratches against your flesh and you tremble instinctively. His plush lips begin to suckle passionate kisses into your neck, marking his territory and making you keen in response. You barely notice his left hand sliding your sleeping tunic over your body and stopping just before your breasts.

“M-may I?” Wyll asks, sheepishly.

You nod.

He gingerly lifts your clothing over your head and tosses it to the ground, leaving you in just your panties.

“Gods… you’re beautiful…” Wyll remarks as his eyes rake over your figure beneath him, a distinct sparkle in his good eye.

“You can touch me more, you know… anywhere you want…” You grab one of Wyll’s wrists and bring his hand up to rest on your breast.

Wyll’s eyebrows raise and he tentatively squeezes your supple flesh in his hand. You hum and wrap your arms around his neck. He grows bold enough to start rubbing circles around your nipple and you moan in approval.

“You can kiss them too, you- Oh!” You gasp as Wyll doesn’t even wait for you to finish your sentence before wrapping his lips around your pert nipple and sucking softly. You feel your cunt clench in anticipation, pushing out more slick to dampen the gusset of your cloth underwear… but you wouldn’t rush him. You were hellbent on letting Wyll take all the time he needed to explore your body.. and his own.

You feel him rut his clothed erection against your naked thigh as he suckles on your breast, kneading the other in his calloused hand.

“Ah!” You yelp as you feel sharp teeth bite down onto your erect nipple.

“Ah- sorry- I-“ Wyll pulls back and stutters out an apology.

“No, don’t apologize. I liked it.” You coo at Wyll, playing with the ends of his braids at the back of his neck with your fingers. “Made me so wet for you, love…” You kiss him again and slide off your underwear while distracting him with your lips.

You pull back and grin cheekily. Before Wyll can register your next move, you flip him over onto his back so that your nude form is straddling his hips.

“I think you have entirely too many clothes on.” You say in jest as you slide down his body to start untying his pants.

“Well, we should fix that that.” Wyll smiles and starts to pull his tank top over his head. He throws it to the ground to accompany your attire. You hastily unweave the threads on his trousers, frantic hands shaking in anticipation of what was to come. Wyll helps you pull them down and off his legs, thick, uncut length bobbing so harshly against his stomach that it grazes your cheek.

“Ah, sorry!” Wyll apologizes for his member hitting you in the face. “Is.. is it.. alright?” He asks nervously.

You grab Wyll’s cock gently and stroke it slowly. His knee twitches beneath you.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s more than alright.” You purr as you feel his weighty girth pulse in your palm. You position your body over his, nestling the mushroom tip of his cock between your slick folds, right at your entrance. “Is this alright, love?” You ask once more.

Wyll gulps and tries to buck his hips up into yours.

“Yes, yes gods yes! Please, I need to be inside you!” He pleads as he grips your hips roughly.

“Sweet boy…” You coo as you sink yourself down onto Wyll’s twitching cock. You moan as your hips meet his.

You weren’t sure how long you had your head thrown back, but once you opened your eyes and looked down at your lover, you saw him in the most beautiful state you’d ever seen. Wyll’s gaze was fixated on the seeping juncture of your two bodies, mesmerized at the way your lips stretched and spread open to accept his length. His mouth hung open in a permanent gasp, transfixed at the sight of your throbbing clit peeking out just above where he was buried inside of you.

“Is it good, love?” You ask as you begin to rock yourself forward.

“Shit-“ Wyll chokes out and his grip on your hips tightens. “It’s- it’s so good- hells!” He cries out and begins to pull you back and forth on his cock in time with your movements.

You moan and writhe, enjoying the way Wyll was letting you get yourself off on him as he sat back and obliged your every request. He was entranced by the vision of you above him, using his body to bring yourself to the precipice of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck…” You scratch your nails down Wyll’s chest as you bring yourself closer and closer to your high.

“My love- I..” Wyll gasps out as he feels his own climax hurtling towards him.

“I know, I know my sweet… Just a bit longer, please…” You sooth him with your words and light caresses down his abdomen. “I’m almost there…”

“Yes, use me… please…” Wyll cants up at you. “Kiss me…” He pants out.

You oblige and lean down to smash your mouth upon his. His tongue breaches your lips and your dam breaks, orgasm overtaking your body. You groan loudly into Wyll’s mouth as your hips jerk against his, cunt squeezing his length harshly in climax.

“I’m-! Ah! I love you!” Wyll blurts out, gripping your body tightly as he pumps you full of his seed. You feel hot ropes splatter against your walls and spill out around where his cock was plugged up inside you. You caught your breath as you felt the last twitches of release fill you. Once you were sure Wyll had finished, you gently lifted yourself off his softening cock and tucked yourself into his side on the bed.

You pulled the blanket over the two of you and snuggled into his chest as he turned towards you. You stroked your thumb across his cheek lovingly.

“Soooo… what did you think?” You ask playfully.

“I hate to admit that arsehole was right, but Astarion might have been onto something. I should have done this sooner.” Wyll remarks with a smirk.

You chuckle and kiss him.

“Let’s not let him know that.”

#baldurs gate fanfiction #baldurs gate smut #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanart #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #bg3 wyll #baldurs gate wyll #wyll romance #wyll ravenguard x tav #wyll ravenguard x reader #wyll smut #bg3 fic

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mischiefwife · 1 year ago

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BG3 characters having a 'these edibles aint shit' moment:

Halsin is lying on his back in the garden and has been for like an hour straight saying nothing, he probably cultivated the weed and its like super strong through druid powers

Wyll spends the entire high fastidiously cleaning the entire camp, and sweeps the dirt under Halsin several times just to be thorough

Shadowheart is in a corner playing an entire Evanesence album and pausing it to explain how good it is and how good the lyrics are (she will move on to other similar music too)

Gale is somewhere by himself casting the simplest cantrips over and over and just being Amazed at the Amazing Properties of the Weave and how it contains Untold Power while he summons like one tiny candle sized flame

Lae'zel has the owlbear cub in her lap by like hour two and is holding up his claws saying stuff like 'murderous. fearsome. beast' and the cub is just going hoot

Karlach keeps forgetting she's put a hot pocket in the microwave and so ends up with like 7 and is trying to hard to relieve the munchies but she can't stop laughing

Astarion keeps panicking about his hair being messed up and going to find a mirror and then saying fuck everytime he realizes he has no reflection Aylin is convinced she can sober up through rigorous exercise and so is doing sets of one hundred unbroken air squats with Isobel on her back

Volo was vociferously booed for dropping the lasagna and they sent him out to pick up pizza but he doesn't get back til like 5am

Minthara is probably the most normal and is just like hanging out reading a book and from time to time looking up judgingly at everyone else who is losing their shit

Jaheira has made rice krispy treats

Minsc is having a very very troubling and extremely intense existential debate with Boo and is on the verge of tears and wants to give everyone a hug Withers what are you doing over there bone man

#baldur's gate 3 #lae'zel #karlach #wyll #isobel #dame aylin #astarion #shadowheart #jaheira #minsc #volo #gale #halsin #withers #these edibles aint shit

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josnhoes · 5 months ago

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I keep having the cutest idea for Knak au on bg3.

So we all know Halsin would make the reader a toy or two. You're a kid on a harsh adventure and even if you act mature you're a kid and kids need toys. Something to call their own and have control over. It's healthy. And Halsin wants you well rounded and healthy mentally; as much as going through all this can allow...

You who are excited by the occasional toy because it was for *you* made by Halsin! You never asked for things even if many shiny things have gotten your attention. So to have a gift just sends you over the moon. Sure you don't know how to play with them, you're mentally an adult the idea of playing with toys was embaressing! That doesn't stop you from naming the ducks and being protective of them...

And now all the companions realize they've kinda neglected what you need as a kid. You act so much like an adult they forgot, kinda. So now they're all going to try in their own ways to over compensate for it. Especially if this is when they're all attached.

It becomes a competition on who can garner your favor with the best gift.

A competition Astarian refuses to fail. It's both a matter of pride at his ability to read people, and the pride of being someone's favorite. Yes Tav was rather attached to him but you were the groups glue even more then Tav. So he spends hours while others sleep sneakily sewing you a custom bat doll. The albino stuffed bat doll he totally didn't model after himself becomes your favorite.

Karlach mourns because she was planning on getting you a stuffed toy but he beat her to it. Either way she's still going to give you one, once she finds the perfect one anyway.

List of gifts:

Gale gives treats like chocolates and snacks, and books

Lae'zel gives things like blankets and weapons. Gifts you can actually use.

Shadowheart gives weapons, flowers, and protection amulets.

Wyll also gives treats but his gifts are more intangible like quality time, stories, and being there for you.

Durge makes you a doll, a nice looking one...made of bone and collected hair from....volunteers... it's probably gunna end up cursed but what kid shouldn't have at least 1 cursed porcelain looking doll?

#knak au #knak bg3 #bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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avocado-writing · 11 months ago

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I am BEGGING for more essentially modern au stuff like the road trip one please!!!! I’ve had the worst anxiety all week and it’s the first genuine giggle I’ve had in forever 💞 thank you! (Also no pressure tho omg I’m sorry)

awww I’m so glad I made you laugh!! Ok how about… modern au, picnic in the park:

Tav

you organise everything. You always organise everything. These guys are not capable of getting together without your direct involvement.

you bring a couple of dishes and drive those who can’t be bothered to walk or take public transport (astarion, shadowheart)

try to be the first there to get a good spot so you tell your passengers you’re meant to be there an hour earlier than planned. they both complain but help you set up anyway.

Gale

brings the majority of home made dishes.

he is the best cook in the group, and he always has a great mix of stuff to bring - salads and sandwiches, pastas and fruit kebabs. it’s all pretty healthy and the plates are cleared by the end!

walked from his house with massive IKEA bags full of food. had to stop three times on the way to the park because he was exhausted.

meticulously counts his Tupperware as he packs everything up afterwards and goes hunting if any of it is missing.

Astarion

tries to steal Gale’s Tupperware.

spends most of the picnic in the shade of a tree pretending to read a book, but really he’s just spying on everyone. It’s fun to eavesdrop.

brought wine. it’s mostly for him. he will share if he’s asked to but he will complain the whole time.

lightens up as the day goes on, doesn’t even complain about the cooking!

Shadowheart

also tries to steal Gale’s Tupperware, but worse at it than Astarion.

immediately picks a fight with Lae’zel when she gets there but the two of them spend the whole day next to each other, anyway.

by the end of the day she’s just lying back on a picnic blanket, vibing, picking the leftovers off of her plate.

everyone has had a heart-to-heart with her at some point.

Lae’zel

mostly comes to eat the proteins. doesn’t indulge in the carb-based foods, she won’t even have a cheat day when she’s meant to be having fun.

ends up with Shadowheart’s head in her lap and plays with her hair. Glares at anyone who mentions it.

will not organise any team sport games, but will become captain if one is suggested. She is fucking brutal. You do not want to be on her team or it gets intense.

Karlach

brings a portable grill so she can get some BBQ going!

Gale is the best cook but Karlach is grill master. She has an apron which says it. Keeps topping up everyone’s plates even when they ask her to stop.

can still play frisbee with no issues after eating 3 plates of food? How? Is this woman magic??

Wyll

is the one who organises the team sports, and you do want to be on his team.

makes the whole day better. If he gets there earliest he also set up a scavenger hunt for everyone!

constantly checking in on everyone to make sure they’re having a good time. Eventually you have to sit him down and remind him to eat, he’s meant to have fun too!

in charge of the sound system. Picks the best music.

Halsin

knows the best spot in the park to set up the picnic!

goes on long tangents about local flora and fauna, but it’s good. Like listening to an ASMR video.

takes off his shirt to lie in the sun. Everyone stares. At one point a fucking butterfly lands on him and it’s like he’s a Disney princess.

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tadpolebrains · 1 year ago

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Love Language Headcanons BG3 (Pt. 1)

Love language headcanons for the male companions! Female companions will be in a part 2. Because I have nothing better to do :D

Astarion’s love languages revolve less around the specific type and more about the intent. He’ll listen to you spew thoughtless praise and such at him for hours, but it’s when you complement things that people don’t tend to notice that he’ll really melt. Because sure, he’s used to people calling him handsome and using his body to seduce people, but he’s not so used to someone pointing out, say, his fine skills with sewing. Or using words like ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ instead of ‘charming’ and ‘handsome. It’s why he’ll get a bit shocked during the one mirror scene if you start pointing out smaller, seemingly inconsequential details, like the curls of his hair or his smile lines- he’s not used to people caring enough to look that closely. In the same vein, he also enjoys physical touch, but moreso anything non-sexual. Hand-holding, forehead kisses, hugs- any touch that has no ulterior motive behind it. It takes him a while to get used to, but once he does it’s like you can’t get him off of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too sometimes if he doesn’t feel like you’ve been touching enough, “Tav, darling, you’re simply neglecting me, holding that dagger instead of my ever so cold hand. Positively cruel.”

Gale defaults to acts of service at first. It’s what he’s kind of used to after Mystra, trying so hard to keep up with pleasing her again and again. Putting all of his self-worth into what he can provide for her. But after helping him work through a bit of that trauma and making sure he understands that he doesn’t constantly have to be doing something for you for you to stay, he realizes he simply enjoys just passing the time together. Quality time. Even if you two are in the same room doing entirely different things, he just finds it comforting to know you’re there, that he’s not alone, and that you’re not going anywhere. Of course, he’ll still go out of his way to do things for you, but it starts becoming more of a gift giving habit. He’ll bring you something from the market because ‘it reminded me of you, so you had to have it.’ He’ll get you books he’s read that he thinks you’ll enjoy. Tiny trinkets that he could go into hour-long explanations on why he just had to get it for you. Poems and little notes written and handed to you before he walks out the door. Eventually, you’ll have so many tiny little things he’s given you that you’re running out of space, but you’ll just have to get a bag of holding, because there’s no way in hell you’re getting rid of them. Later, when he finds out you not only still have every single little thing, and also remember when you got every single one, he’s so touched that he… totally isn’t crying, no, there’s just something in his eye.

Wyll is very much a words of affirmation man. He is the Disney prince of BG3, and can and will rave on about you for days on end. He’ll spin tiny things you’ve done and tell them to people like they were the most incredible things he’s ever seen. You could wake up with a bedhead and be the groggiest you’ve ever been and he’ll still tell you you’re gorgeous. He’s horrible at taking what he dishes out after Mizora changes him, though, especially at first when it comes to his own looks. He’s used to the praise people spew about the Blade of Frontiers, but less used to your little compliments about Wyll Ravengard. Many nights after the transformation, you spend them with him spewing sweet words about his new horns or idly tracing fingers along them to make sure he knows you’re not afraid of it. You still see him as a person, and that’s where physical touch comes in. Because your words and touch reminds him that he’s still there. Still human. And still loved. And of course, like the gentleman he is, he will always try to find some way to return the favor and attention later on. Will ask what he can do to repay you, and if you answer with a ‘don’t worry about it’ or ‘you don’t need to do anything,’ he’ll just find little things to do in return anyway. You mentioned liking this one specific thing from a town five days ago? Well, it appears on your pillow later that night. His acts of service side tends to come out during those times too. A minor inconvenience that you could easily handle? Oh, he’s got that covered. Don’t even try to protest it, he’ll start listing off all of the things you’ve done for him lately, and by the time he’s convinced you to sit back down the task could have been handled already.

Halsin is a very tactile person. With everyone. Physical touch is a natural need of the body, after all, and he is a man of nature. So even platonically, he will be setting a hand on people’s shoulders, or ruffling hair, or bumping shoulders- any of it. You initiating it, though, is very much appreciated. Maintaining prolonged points of contact, ie hand-holding, cuddling, hugs, etc, is really what makes him feel attached. And when he’s in bear form, he loves the feeling of gentle hands combing through the dense fur, and curling protectively around you when you’re both asleep. He’ll let you braid his hair with a chuckle if you ask, and if you have longer hair, will return the favor. He’s also a gift giver by habit; perhaps it’s the animal instinct. But he’ll bring gifts of foraged berries, or a catch from the river, or even random little flowers and leaves (and of course, will indulge any questions about the specific types of plants he’s bringing back). He’ll light up with any of those questions about nature, and it encourages you to ask more often, even if it’s just a simple “hey, Halsin, what’s this?” on the road. He gets this little twinkle in his eye. Long nature walks become a pretty frequent routine, and if your legs start hurting he’ll either carry you or turn into a bear to let you ride on his back.

#astarion #gale #halsin #wyll #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #honestly this ended up being more rambling than anything #this game has me in a chokehold

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halsins-herbal-underpants · 11 months ago

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How Halsin Spends Time with His Lover

male companion headcanons

Wyll

Most nights after supper's done, Halsin will sit with Wyll somewhere comfy -- around the campfire or relaxing in the druid's tent -- and recount stories of his past adventures while Wyll sits close and listens. Sometimes they'll trade stories back and forth, which Halsin loves -- Wyll lights up talking about the battles he's faced and Halsin sits patiently for each recounting, smile getting bigger and bigger the more into the story Wyll gets, finding his excitement endearing. Halsin's a very appreciative audience, laughing, cheering and clapping for each rousing finale. But most of the time Wyll just sits enraptured by Halsin's tales

Halsin also often joins Wyll for a sparring session in the morning. The younger man is usually the one to initiate, but rarely will Halsin decline -- it means too much to him to get to witness Wyll's joy at a simple sparring match, testing himself with someone as powerful and adept as Halsin. The two usually end in a draw though Wyll has beaten him once or twice. Not that Halsin minds, as it usually results in a gentle kiss or two for his bruises from his Blade.

Gale

The wizard isn't the only one with a mini private library in his tent, and the two often spend literal hours discussing texts they've read, sharing new ones, discussing studies and their different magical disciplines. During travel Halsin always sets aside a new tome or two to share with Gale after supper. He also takes Gale foraging for alchemical ingredients, discussing and sometimes even teaching Gale about plants and their uses. All cherished moments for Halsin, the way Gale comes alive when discussing magic is too lovely to miss.

They cook together often, too. Trying new recipes, perfecting others. Often Halsin shares family recipes, which Gale is eager to try every time. Halsin is a fantastic cook but in his eyes Gale is as adept at cooking as he is magic. He praises his innovation often and adores the sweetly blushing expression it causes. (Preparation can too often get interrupted by kissing those flushed cheeks.) Getting to sample Gale's delicious dishes is the highlight of their evening. He always cleans his plate and shows the cook his appreciation, even when it makes Gale flustered behind his smile.

Astarion

While Astarion usually balks at doing anything physical or requiring work (or really anything that doesn't mean he gets to be comfortable and lazy), Halsin can still usually get the spawn to spend time with him in his tent by letting him come when he wants and leave when he's ready. It's often just Halsin working on something to the side, with Astarion lounging nearby pretending he's not there for any particular reason. Though after a bit Halsin will usually end up with an annoyed vampire leaning up against him demanding to see what he's doing, and then he can give his cat little star all the attention he could ask for.

Some quiet nights he'll sit with Astarion while the other braids his hair and mocks terrible books. The first time Halsin asked him to read one of these awful romance novels to him, Astarion just rolled his eyes. But now he's started coming by at least once a tenday to sit with Halsin stretched out, head in Astarion's lap, to read the druid a terrible book and pause every other paragraph to give scathingly hilarious commentary. It's become Halsin's favorite day.

---- female companion headcanons

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #halsin silverbough #astarion ancunin #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #bg3 astarion #I had to repost this cos I deleted the original accidentally ugh

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itsclydebitches · 1 year ago

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Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Summary: Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, and Tav enjoy a well deserved night off with plenty of drink.

Pairing: None

Word Count: 1,760

She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety, should the need arise. - Shadowheart

-----

“So it’s true what they say about Selunites and liquor.”

“What’s that?”

Wyll blinked, seeming to have lost the thread between his comment and Tav’s question. Beside him Karlach snickered loudly into her mug.

“I don’t know,” he finally slurred, morose. “Should I?”

“You brought it up, bud.”

“I did?” Wyll reached one hand up into his hair, gripping, only to be met with a horn instead. Tav saw the exact moment his sloshed mind registered the new-ish appendage without recalling why he had it. They flicked an emergency look at Karlach. She slung an arm around Wyll’s shoulders.

“They say,” she whispered, knocking her head companionably against his, “that they’re lightweights. Eh? Eh?”

Wyll’s mouth made a perfect ‘o,’ then split as he dissolved into giggles. Astarion let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Honestly. Now we know why the Duke never let his offspring drink at social events, don’t we? And Karlach, did you just make that up?”

She toasted Astarion from across the table.

“That’s...” he seemed to chew on his words for a moment. “Not half bad. Lay down your ax and you could have a career in comedy, darling.”

“Ha! You’re the hilarious one.”

Wyll’s laugh was infectious and Astarion was saying something fascinating about the stand-up of two hundred years past, but Tav ignored both as they spotted a familiar figure in their periphery. They subtly raised a hand towards the Elfsong’s bartender and got an equally subtle nod in return. More drinks would appear on their table in due haste—without the requisite coin. Word of their reported heroism had spread across the city, their names exalted even by those who normally distrusted the Baldur’s Mouth, and Tav’s little party had found themselves on the receiving end of numerous offers lately. They’d rejected most out of hand—too easy a method of subterfuge—but free drinks for the night? After the hell that was the foundry? They needed this.

Besides, they were unlikely to find another safe place to indulge anytime soon... and that was assuming they’d all make it out of this war with the Absolute intact. Tav shook the bleak thought away, nodding in thanks as another mug appeared at their elbow. Gale had joined them for the first hour before taking his leave, saying that anything more than a glass of wine was a bit beyond him these days and really, it would be a crime to leave Josen’s The Illustrated Guide to Magically Infused Flora unfinished for the night. Blurg had proven to be quite the recommender of books. Jahira had volunteered as an all-night look out—someone needed to let the kids have their fun—and Lae’zel, to everyone’s surprise, had decided to spend the evening with Halsin. Last Tav had seen he was teaching her the basics of wood carving, a hobby they never would have attributed to the githyanki, though the appeal made a bit more sense once they heard her aspirations to carve the greatest dragon their pathetic world had ever seen.

In short, this was the most peace they’d seen in months and Tav had every intention of hoarding it.

“What do you think?” Astarion said. He was speaking to Karlach but facing Wyll, one hand making a coin disappear and reappear with a finesse that left the drunk warlock enthralled. “What would it take to get Withers to join our little party?”

Karlach hooted, slamming one hand down hard on the table. “Oh, I’d pay to see it! The other patrons’ faces as well. How many undead resurrection peddlers do you think this inn has seen?”

“About as many good cleanings.” Astarion sneered at the grime on their table. He made the coin disappear a final time, leaned over, and wiped his hand on the front of Wyll’s shirt. Wyll just smiled.

“That feels nice," he murmured.

“I’m sure it does, you beautiful man.”

Tav choked on their drink, firmly telling their own muddled mind to remember this image in the morning: Astarion dragging one hand sensually down Wyll’s chest while Wyll beamed the smile of the wasted, perpetually listing to one side so that Karlach was holding him up.

“Does Withers even drink?” they asked, then winced. That image wasn’t nearly as cute. “I offered him food a couple of times and he always gave me this look. You know,” Tav tried to replicate the stoic, yet somehow condescending expression that the skeleton loved to employ. “He doesn’t need to eat, obviously, but does he want to? I think he should. It’s only right, you know? Everyone in the party eats. Withers is a part of the party, so—” They swung the mug to emphasize the importance of this, splashing the table in the process. “Oops.”

“Frankly, I couldn’t care less what that bag of bones does or does not consume, but do you know who is in need of a hearty meal?”

It took Tav a long time—too long—to realize what Astarion’s batting eyes and winning smile were asking for.

“Ohhhh,” they said. “Uh, it’s gonna be strong. I think.”

“Excellent.”

So Tav expertly drained the mug in their hand, palmed a blade, and drew it decisively across the back of their arm, refilling the mug with blood. They gratefully took the rag Karlach handed them as Astarion drank deeply around a sigh.

“Pace yourself,” Tav reminded him.

“Chug it!” Karlach countered.

It didn’t take a seer to figure out who Astarion was going to listen to.

The lull gave Tav a moment to take stock of their own state and they winced at the haziness that had permeated the inn. Karlach had the constitution of an owlbear and it would take at least a few minutes before Tav’s blood had any effect on Astarion, but Wyll now had his forehead pressed to the table, muttering something incomprehensible against the wood. While Shadowheart...

Oh dear.

Tav wasn’t sure when ‘So drunk she couldn’t remember Shar’s name’ had become ‘Full on passed out with a string of drool inching down her chin,’ but Shadowheart had definitely passed into the latter territory. Hesitantly, Tav reached out to give her a poke. Their finger missed her shoulder by an inch. Blinking, shaking their head, they gave it another go and landed somewhere in the vicinity of her collarbone. Shadowheart didn’t move, but the string of drool dropped down to mar her shirt.

“We killed Shadowheart,” Tav whispered.

Astarion leaned into their side, a heavy weight. “Eh?”

“We killed Shadowheart.”

Karlach was across the table in a heartbeat, shoving poor Wyll aside to get an ear near Shadowheart’s chest. A moment later she spluttered out a relieved laugh as her head gently rose and fell with Shadowheart’s breathing.

“Fucking hells, soldier, way to give me a scare! She’s fine, she’s fine. Well, probably not going to be feeling so great come tomorrow, but provided we don’t let her drown in her own vomit she’ll be kicking ass again soon enough.”

“That’s optimistic,” Astarion said, eyeing the puddle of drool Shadowheart was now leaving on the table. “Also: ew. Also, if you—” he pointed a stern finger at Tav, “—ever scare me like that again I will give your favorite shirt to Tara for shredding purposes. My heart just skipped a beat and it hasn't moved in a century! I—wait.” His eyes narrowed. “Gods. Does drinking normally make me admit that all aloud? I can’t remember. Did it used to make me this talkative? Oh fuck, I need more, lest I remember this come morning...”

Tav was shooing their clingy vampire back while Karlach laughed. Shaking her head she stood, tested her own balance against the table, and with a satisfied “Whoop!” bent to pick up Wyll with a single arm. He went willingly—if limply— enough. Tav caught a soft murmur somewhere around Karlach’s waist and then what might have been a sad echo of her ‘Whoop.’ A weak hand lifted to cheer, then fell, scraping the inn floor.

“Alright, you too,” Karlach said and snagged Shadowheart by the back of her shirt—like a mother cat collecting her kitten. Their healer went over her shoulder with all the grace of a potato sack but Tav nodded, feeling very happy with the image.

“Do I need to grow another arm?” Karlach asked, eyeing the two of them skeptically. “Or I can come back down...?”

“We’re perfect, darling, absolutely perfect. Don’t give it a second thought. Though you would look stunning with multiple arms, I'm sure.” Astarion slung his around Tav’s shoulders in a move that let him pull their neck awfully close. Tav planted a sticky hand over his face and ignored the squawk.

“We’re good,” Tav confirmed, then blinked when what came out was a garbled string of consonants and vowels. They glared down at the mug in their hand. When had it turned their lips numb? Stupid mug.

Karlach sighed. “Yeah, I’ll be back in ten. Starting to wonder if those squid bastards specifically went after lightweights...”

She disappeared up the steps to their room, inspiring curious looks and more then one whistle in her wake. Tav felt a giddy emotion bubbling up at the image—which was immediately interrupted by Astarion remembering that he probably shouldn’t drink directly from their neck in a public place, so he poked them—sharply—with the knife instead. Poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke pokepokepokepokepokepoke—

With a growl Tav finally re-filled Astarion's glass, then smacked their lips until they decided to work again.

“We are going to have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow,” they sighed.

It was worth it though, right? Tav forced their meandering mind to focus on the consequences: Gale’s disapproving looks, the mood Shadowheart would not doubt be in the next morning, the fact that there was always the risk that they’d come under attack during the next few hours and Gods, would Tav be useless if it came to a fight. Really, they should do the responsible thing and throw themselves into the nearby fountain, try to sober up abit—

"Yes we are!" Astarion cheered, blood splashing across his shirt, and he smiled. Not a smirk, not a flirty grin, just... a smile. Genuine and bared with the assurance of safety, not false confidence. Tav stared at it for a moment, stunned, before their own smile emerged in response.

One more round. Karlach had said ten minutes, which really meant five—three, probably, considering she was worried about them.

So they'd have to chug it.

Challenge accepted.

#BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion #Karlach #Tav #Wyll #Shadowheart #BG3 fic

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slothquisitor · 4 months ago

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Invisible String: Chapter Eight

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary:

In which Astarion hurts his own feelings, and he and Liv have an important conversation. CW: Discussions of past abuse.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

Petras sleeps until almost noon. Vampires don’t need nearly as much sleep as mortals, so the fact he’s resting this long tells Astarion that things really had been bad wherever he was. He doesn’t exactly feel bad for Petras, but he does….understand. He wishes he didn’t. He wishes Wyll hadn’t asked him to do this, to stare his past so plainly in the face.

He’s not worried about Petras being a danger to himself or anyone else. Not really, but still, he keeps some measure of watch over him anyway.

Liv had been exceptionally understanding about the whole thing. And he’s grateful, even as he knows he’s made a rather grave error with her. He’d kissed her. It hadn’t really meant anything, it was simply a means of distraction. But she just wants to pretend it never happened, as if he could be so forgettable! And why should they forget the whole thing? Kissing her had felt nice enough. She’d seemed to enjoy it too, and well, he can’t remember the last time he’d just kissed someone and it hadn’t gone further.

This is the part of his life that’s so tricky to navigate these days. He’s free, has been for two glorious years, but in some ways, he hasn’t ever left his old life. He’d paid for blood with sex for a very, very long time, either for himself or for Cazador. Being unwilling had only gotten him beaten or starved, Cazador used both rather ruthlessly. Sex wasn’t about pleasure or enjoyment…it was a transaction, a performance, a necessity until it was so divorced from his wants that his body didn’t feel like his anymore.

The insidious bit of it all was that Cazador had made every boundary crossed, every limit pushed feel like it had been his choice all along. Afterward, when the guilt and shame kicked in, it was only ever his own damn fault. Cazador loved to point out how deviant trading sex for blood was, so quick to tell him that no one outside his club would ever understand, could ever let that little fact about him go. And even though he hadn’t wanted to so much of the time, he hadn’t realized that feeling as though he couldn’t say no also meant he couldn’t say yes. Even two years free and he can’t quite break out of the habits and spirals created in that damn club.

He’s gone out with people, of course. There never seems to be a lack of interested parties. But it’s his interest that forever seems to be the problem. Though in fairness, he’s never bothered spending a lot of time getting to know anyone. Perhaps that’s what made things with Liv different. They’re…friends. He knows her, and she knows him or the parts of him he’s allowed her to see anyway. Perhaps that’s why it hadn’t felt terrible when she touched him.

And she just wants to forget it? It’s utterly unfair. What he needs to do is figure out how Liv really felt about the whole kiss before he had to run out the door to retrieve Petras. What changed in the time they were kissing and the handful of hours before he’d returned home?

“I can’t sleep if you’re going to sigh to yourself every five seconds,” Petras says. Or more specifically the pillow-shaped mound that is Petras says.

“I am not sighing,” Astarion protests.

“You’re right. It’s more like huffing.”

“We don’t even need to breathe.”

“And yet,” Petras flicks a hand in his direction.

“You should get up anyway. It’s nearly noon.”

“And?”

“And we have things to do today.”

Petras sits up, his hair a wild tangle, but he does look a bit better than last night. “What major plans could you possibly have for us with the sun shining?”

“You need necessities like clothes and whatever you use to make your hair look better than it does right now,” Astarion replies.

Petras laughs. “I don’t have any money. I figured it would just be like the old days and I’d steal all your good shit.”

Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid. Now get over here, did Alkham allow you to have access to the wonders of same-day delivery?”

“No, just like Cazador, he didn’t allow us tech.”

It doesn’t mean that Petras doesn’t know how to use it though. Astarion had gotten very creative in his years under Cazador, and also very good at guessing the phone passwords of clients while they were sleeping. For a long time, the whole wider world was only the glimpses he could steal from a stranger’s phone screen. He navigates to the local store’s website and then hands his laptop over to Petras.

“Buy what you need, and I’ll work on getting you a phone.”

Petras stares at him. “You’re being nice.”

“No, I’m being practical. There’s a difference,” Astarion replies as he begins searching for prepaid phones and which stores he knows will deliver here.

“Liv is nice too,” Petras says.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can tell that Petras isn’t looking at the computer at all, instead, he looks rather lost. He saves them both the indignity of meeting his gaze and keeps staring at his phone. “That does appear to be her default setting, yes. What’s the problem? You’re here freeloading off of me and complaining about it?”

“When Wyll told me he was calling you, I hadn’t realized you’d really gotten out. I thought you were like the rest of us. Just jumped from one bad club to another. I asked him what the difference was, and he said it was that you had help. That you weren’t alone. He did this for you, didn’t he?”

The simple answer is yes. Wyll had taken him in, supported him, and gotten him help through various organizations. And he’d needed the help rather badly. The world had seemed so overwhelming to him then, and he hadn’t accepted any of the help with gratitude or grace. He wasn’t alone in that. At the group therapy class Karlach had dragged him to, and Wyll had all but mandated he attend, he’d discovered that suffering doesn’t save anyone. It certainly doesn’t make them kind or good. The only impulse he’d escaped years of abuse with was to avoid being under the power of anyone else ever again. It had only been Wyll’s goodness and Karlach’s patience and Shadowheart’s persistent kindness that had dug him out of that particular endless pit of bitterness.

He won’t tell Petras any of this; he doesn’t owe him that explanation. “Yes. He wasn’t an asshole about it either. Which I’m realizing now was probably a lot harder than it seemed.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Petras says. “I just want to be free.”

Astarion knows that feeling well. “Well, you’re free now, and as long as you continue not being the worst, I probably won’t turn you out.”

“Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“I know. I’ve even got a lead on a job for you. It’s an old gig of mine. Both of our resumes are a bit lacking in practical skills, but I’ve got a friend who works at the Elfsong, and they always need someone to babysit the VIPs.”

Petras' eyes look rather dead. “And what does that entail?”

“A lot of smiling and agreeing and making sure they always have drinks. The Elfsong isn’t like…that. Besides, it’s just until you figure out something else.”

“That…doesn’t sound that bad, actually.”

“Good.” Because the organization Astarion gets to hand Petras off to has a requirement that Petras have a job first, so that had been his first concern.

Petras puts in an order, and an hour and a half later he has a small collection of things to call his own, including his own clothes because Astarion wasn’t about to let Petras loose in his closet. He goes to shower, and Astarion remains in the living room sitting in a chair and watching the sun filtering in through the curtains. He wants to talk to Liv and types out an entire text before abandoning it and jumping over to the Weave instead. He’s willing to admit this truth, but perhaps not entirely.

FangtasticLover: Have you ever looked at someone and realized that you’re looking at your past self?

Books>People: No, but I think that’s how my sister sees me. Why?

FangtasticLover: Just ran into someone I used to know, and I don’t know that I like what I see of my past in them.

Books>People: But isn’t that a testament to your own growth more than anything?

FangtasticLover: I suppose you’re probably right.

Books>People: I usually am.

And just like he knew she would, Liv somehow knows the exact right thing to say. He is miles away from what Petras is now. And it still rankles a bit acknowledging that, but there’s a bit of pride there too…in just how far he’s come. And he absolutely shouldn’t, but he can’t resist trying to get Liv to talk about the kiss. He wants to know what she really thought of it if it really meant so little to her. But he’s not sure how to ask about it without giving himself away. So he can only hope she’ll mention it herself if he presses a bit about how she’s doing.

FangtasticLover: I haven’t asked about your roommate in a while. You’re not still fighting are you?

Books>People: Definitely not fighting. Actually, I sort of need some advice on that front, but I don’t feel like I can tell anyone else because I don’t want to violate his privacy…

Here it is. Gods, it’s almost too easy to get her to tell him things.

FangtasticLover: Happy to provide advice. After all, what else are pocket comrades for?

Books>People: I’ve discovered a secret my roommate is keeping. And it feels dishonest to not say something as it’s a pretty big deal, but at the same time, I don’t want to force him into talking about it if he doesn’t want to. Does that make sense?

Astarion feels as though a bucket of ice water has been dumped over him. She knows? About what exactly…clearly not the app she wouldn’t be doing this about the app…would she?

FangtasticLover: I guess that depends on what exactly you’ve learned.

Books>People: Well, he’s a vampire apparently. Which is fine! I don’t care. I just wish he’d told me, you know?

Well, shit. How long has she known?

FangtasticLover: Well, that’s quite the revelation. And it’s really fine with you? You really don’t care?

Books>People: Of course it’s fine. It’s just part of who he is. I admit that it shocked me a little when I realized it last night, but he’s still him. I know that there’s plenty of rumor and prejudice out there, so maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. But I trust him…and maybe it seems like that doesn’t go both ways? I don’t know. All of this is further complicated by the fact he brought home another vampire who is currently crashing on our couch for an undetermined amount of time.

Was that what had changed? She had kissed him, realized what he was and decided she didn’t want him? Well…that’s…usually the opposite of how that works. There’s a sort of sinking feeling in his chest, but he doesn’t dare name it. Instead, he keeps messaging, very much against his better judgment.

FangtasticLover: So you’re currently living with not one but two vampires?

Books>People: Apparently? The second one is temporary. Probably. But what do you think I should do? I don’t like feeling like I’m lying to him, but I also don’t want him to feel as though he has to tell me anything he doesn’t want to.

And now that he knows her, he knows he should have just been honest from the beginning. He wouldn’t have had to tell her everything, wouldn’t have had to explain, but now he knows he’ll have to. Because he wants her to understand why he didn’t tell her. And it feels wrong to be asked about this, to provide advice on something so deeply entwined with him. It doesn’t stop him from replying.

FangtasticLover: I’d give him a chance to tell you. Maybe he has a good reason for not sharing.

Books>People: I’m sure he does. I’ll keep it to myself.

He’ll need to tell her soon then. Sit her down, make a big deal of the whole thing. Act surprised when she inevitably tells the truth about already knowing. It’ll be a relief to be out in the open about that at least. Still, some part of him is disappointed…as though he’s read the last pages of a really good book and spoiled the ending for himself.

***

True to Astarion’s word, Petras is a constant, but mostly unobtrusive presence in the apartment. Both he and Astarion seem thrilled when she arrives home from work, no doubt glad to be passing the time with someone other than each other. But there’s something amusing about being met at the door and immediately inundated with demands for attention from them both. Petras slots into her and Astarion’s established routines rather easily, joining them for games and evenings watching Crown of Shadows, only half paying attention as he scrolls enthusiastically on his new smartphone almost as if he’s never had one of his own before.

But on Thursday evening, Astarion texts her and asks if it’s alright if he goes into the office for the evening. She knows what he’s really asking is if she’s comfortable being home alone with Petras, and she’s unbothered. So that evening after dinner, she invites Petras to join her in watching her favorite baking show.

He seems strangely fascinated by the whole thing, particularly interested in the different baking techniques and adding his own nonsensical commentary to the judging of each.

“You know, we could try making something from the show this weekend if you want,” Liv offers.

Petras looks genuinely excited at the fact before reigning it in. “I don’t….I don’t really eat sweets.”

Right…vampire. She has so many questions about that. She’s seen Astarion eat, and now understands why he didn’t seem to enjoy it or ever have any opinion on where she ordered them food from. So can they eat and just choose not to? The internet had been no help in that regard, insisting that they only drink blood when she’s definitely witnessed otherwise.

“No worries, if you change your mind though, it could be fun,” she says. Some part of her, probably the part most like her mother keeps moving into hostess mode with Petras. Concerned with his comfort, and wanting him to enjoy his time in their apartment despite the fact that Astarion has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t necessarily want Petras here a moment longer than he needs to be.

“I’m a little surprised Astarion has a roommate whose idea of fun is baking. How did you meet him anyway?” Petras asks.

“Astarion didn’t tell you?”

Petras shrugs. “He’s a bit tight-lipped when it comes to you and pretty much everything else in his life.”

Well, that’s very much true. “We were introduced through mutual friends. I was looking for a place, and he had an extra room. I didn’t actually meet him until I moved in.”

“Wow, that uh…must have been something.”

Liv laughs. “Yeah, well, I was sort of desperate. I thought he didn’t like me for the first few days, actually.”

“He doesn’t exactly make it easy.”

And she knows they’re not talking about her anymore. The words are said with a laugh, a conspiratorial wink thrown in her direction, but there’s an undercurrent of something there. “Has he always been prickly?”

She keeps the question vague, sure that asking anything deeper than that is likely to result in a side-step or a change in topic. Whatever else is happening here, she knows Petras has likely been instructed to keep Astarion’s secrets and she doesn’t want to unravel whatever promises Petras has made.

He considers her question, tapping his chin dramatically. “Prickly is a nice word for arrogant asshole.”

“And yet despite all that…he’s still helping you.”

Petras sighs. “Wyll said he would. I didn’t believe him, and now I sleep on his couch and have my first shift at the Elfsong tomorrow night.”

“You excited?”

Petras shrugs. “Sure. It will be nice to do something for myself and Astarion says Karlach and I will get on like a house fire. Whatever that means.”

“I haven’t met Karlach, but everything I’ve been told makes me believe she gets on well with everyone.”

“That’s good,” Petras says, glancing away. “I just…I…don’t really have any schooling or qualifications or anything. I feel like I’m supposed to have dreams or goals or something, but everything just feels out of reach.”

She wants to ask him more, but she knows this sliver of vulnerability is all he’ll be able to offer her without revealing his and Astarion’s secret. “I’m sure it feels that way right now, but give it some time. You don’t have to figure it all out in a day. Work this job, get on your feet, and then you’ll figure out the rest.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not, but it is possible to start over.” She’d know.

Petras lets out a sad laugh. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”

They don’t talk about it again, and the next evening Petras heads out the door just after sunset with a cheerful goodbye, leaving Liv and Astarion alone in their apartment for the first time in days. As usual, Astarion is mostly absent while she cooks and eats dinner, only reappearing once she’s begun cleaning up.

“Could we…I was hoping we could talk?” Astarion says, gesturing towards the living room. He looks a little nervous and keeps adjusting the hem of his black cashmere sweater.

She turns the sink off and dries her hands. “Alright.”

He’s standing somewhat awkwardly next to the couch but offers her a strained smile as she approaches and he gestures to the other end. She takes a seat and waits. Is this it? The moment where he comes clean? Or is he going to broach the subject of that kiss again? Some part of her can’t shake that just days ago they were kissing on this very couch. She feels her cheeks warm, but she tries to punch down the feeling.

“I think there’s something I should tell you,” he says. “Nothing big or terrible! Just a small little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.”

Ah, here it is. Liv does her best to keep her expression unchanged, but there’s a little thrill in her chest. He trusts her.

“It’s just that I happen to be uh…well…a vampire.” He rushes the last words, tacks on a slight laugh that seems more nerves than any real humor. There's a practiced air to it, as though he'd rehearsed this whole thing. “Petras too,” he adds, belatedly.

The lack of surprise must show on her face because he sighs. “And you already knew. Did Petras say something?”

Liv puts her hands up. “No, no, nothing like that. I just…I put the pieces together a few days ago. I didn’t…I didn’t want to force you to talk to me about it though. I’m sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, what gave it away? I thought I was being quite thoroughly mortal.”

“Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?”

He glares at her.

“You can probably stop buying groceries you don’t use…”

“Oh yes, that will be nice. Well, good talk.” He stands to go, clearly frustrated.

She grabs his hand. “Come on, don’t go. I have a million questions.”

He looks down at her in surprise, and then at her hand on his. She pulls her hand back, feeling her face warm. But he does sit back down.

“I won’t answer a million questions, but I will answer a few,” he says, words careful.

“What do you eat? I’ve seen you eat food, but I assume that there is also…you know.”

His eyebrows raise. “Blood? Yes, of course. I have a freezer hidden in my closet. Speaking of, can I move my blood back into the kitchen now? Free up some closet space?”

A freezer in his closet? What in the hells? “You want to put humanoid blood next to the pizza rolls?”

“Of course not. I want to put animal blood next to the pizza rolls. Those things are absolutely vile by the way. I can eat food, it just…tastes like ash.”

“So you don’t drink humanoid blood?”

He shrugs. “It’s not exactly easy to come by. What do you know of vampires? I’m not talking about the folklore and the scary stories, but how they live in a city like Baldur’s Gate.”

“They tend to live in covens, right? Night clubs are popular - pay your way with blood.”

“Have you ever been to one?” he asks. All the joking is gone, his crimson gaze is steady, somber.

“No. Shockingly, the club scene wasn’t really my thing.”

He smiles slightly at that, but it falls away into a grimace. “I was at death’s door when Cazador turned me. Offered me eternal life while I was bleeding out in the street - a mugging where I didn’t have the good sense to hand over my money and keep my mouth shut.

“I was angry and afraid to die. That was a long time ago, things were different then, but being a vampire was still half a life. Not quite alive, not entirely dead, and entirely dependent on the blood of others to survive. Back then we had to survive in secret, but Cazador had money and connections and I had nothing and no one.”

Oh. So this isn’t really about him being a vampire, but whatever else it means. Whatever else is connected to it. She doesn’t know quite what to say, so she just lets him keep talking.

“Eventually, he opened the club. It sounded like a sort of paradise. Endless partying, willing people coming in begging to be bitten. A little bit of danger and the forbidden for a bit of blood. After all, what’s more desirable than a vampire? But Cazador was greedy, and people wanted more than booze and a moment with my mouth at their neck. It happened slowly…pushing my limits until suddenly it was the norm and I was trading sex for blood. For him, for me…and if I didn’t acquiesce…well…” He trails off then, letting her fill in the blanks.

“Do you know what the worst part was? I could have left at any time. But that was the danger of Cazador…of men like him. They make you believe that what they’re offering is the best you’ll ever have. That there’s nothing else outside of what they offer.”

No wonder he didn’t want to tell her this. Everything about this breaks her heart. It also fills in so many of the questions she’s had about him and his past. “Where is he now?”

“Rotting in prison. My friend Wyll, he was the social worker who came in to talk to us after we got pulled out. He took me home and helped me figure out how to live a life outside that club.”

The pieces slide together. “And that’s how you know Petras.”

He sighs. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m so sorry, Astarion.”

He grimaces. “I don’t want your pity. I didn’t tell you all of this because I want you to feel sorry for me. I didn’t even really want to tell you at all. I don’t like…being thought of like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a victim! Like someone who believed the lies of someone so terrible and didn’t simply walk out the front door!” He’s retreated inside of himself, his eyes hard, his shoulders tight.

She knows she needs to say the right thing here, so she begins, words careful. “It’s not pity, Astarion. You are my friend, and it makes me upset that you went through that because no one should have their trust and boundaries violated in that way. I don’t think any person is defined by what other people have done to them. When I look at you, all I see is you . And now I just feel like I have a fuller picture of what that means, and I’m grateful that you shared it with me.”

His eyes widen, but there is still a hint of suspicion in them. “You’re not upset I didn’t tell you from the beginning?”

Not at all. “You don’t owe me or anyone else explanations about your past.” Especially when they’re rooted so deeply in trauma and violence.

They sit in the silence of that statement for a moment. He fumbles a little with a series of beginnings. “I…thank you. I appreciate that. The world isn’t often an understanding place.”

She looks at him then, her roommate, her friend. She sees the whole of him now and understands his obfuscations and why he felt like he needed them. “No, but people might surprise you.”

“Well, you’re certainly full of surprises, anyway,” he says, offering her a faint smile.

#astarion #astarion x tav #tavstarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x liv #invisible string #slothquisitorwrites

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toads-treasures · 5 months ago

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1-3 for Leda x Wyll for the couples ask, please! 🥰 (~agentnatesewell)

What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re…hot…”

Leda 🌸 I mean…it’s Wyll Ravengard. From the moment she first laid eyes on him, his gravitas with his Super Smash Bros entrance “provoke the blade, and suffer its sting.” She instantly thought he was hot. Which, you know they’re under attack, she’s got an illithid tadpole in her head, not an ideal time to be making heart eyes at a stranger, but she’s had a long hard day, and Wyll is Wyll so… couldn’t be helped.

Wyll ♥️ He definitely found her striking from their first interaction. Not a lot of pink tieflings about, especially not ones you can suddenly mind meld with. But it wasn’t until their second night at camp that he really had a chance to really notice anything beyond that. He was sitting on the banks of the river near camp, still trying to get used to being around people again, for more than an hour or two, when Leda found him. She’d been washing up a little further downstream, and her hair was loose from its usual braids. She instantly sat down next to him and chatted with him like they were old friends. It was then that Wyll noticed she had a lovely smile, and even a shallow dimple, just in her right cheek. Also if you wanna read more about this particular little moment I actually wrote a fic for it while trying to answer this question! I still need to edit it, but…stay tuned!

Does this change over time? What things do they find “hot” about their partner after they’ve been together for some time, and have had more time to, well, notice and appreciate?

🌸 Leda’s attraction doesn’t really change, but it definitely deepens. At first she was attracted to his confidence, his presence as the Blade of Frontiers. But the more time they spend together, she finds she likes it more when Wyll isn’t being The Blade. She still loves that part of him, it’s an important part of him. But she likes the moments where she can almost catch him off guard. Make him laugh. He has the best laugh and the prettiest smile. Also I heard this clip and let’s not pretend that Wyll doesn’t have possibly the most attractive voice in the whole party. And his lil crop top at camp got Leda acting extremely unwise.

♥️ Wyll’s attraction to Leda only grows as he gets to know her more. I personally think of Wyll as demisexual, so his initial thought of “Oh, she’s really pretty,” doesn’t really deepen until their relationship does. Which doesn’t take long lol, nothing brings people together like a shared premonition of doom. But he loves how passionate Leda is. Being around her, you can’t help but feel this exciting sense of anticipation, of potential. Does this have to do with the fact that she is a wild magic sorcerer so there is real potential of exciting catastrophic things happening? Maybe. Also, looking back through a lot of my rambling writings with them I often describe Wyll admiring her hair?

Also Leda is very aware she has some exceptional tits, but Wyll would be way too chivalrous to ever mention that. Except in specific circumstances

By contrast, what was the moment that first made their heart soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like, “Oh…I adore them…”

First of all, bless you for asking this question because this is my literal FAVORITE part of writing any kind of romantic relationship. I live for this moment.

Weirdly, I think I have a better idea of when this happened for Wyll than I do Leda.

♥️ It was at the tiefling party. He tried to keep himself and his problems from his friends. He didn’t want to burden them, especially that night where they should have been celebrating. But Leda came to him. She sought him out, made him laugh, she listened to him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had done that for him. It was then that he realized he didn’t just like her because she was pretty and funny, it was because around her, he didn’t have to hold his breath. He didn’t have to square his shoulders and be The Blade of Frontiers. Leda is so unabashedly herself that you really have no choice but to be the same. Also, the tiefling party is where you get the amazing, “Perhaps, you’ve grown fond of me…Gods know I’ve grown fond of you.” line. It’s basically canon that Wyll has this moment with Tav at the party.

🌸 Leda is not very in tune with her own emotions, she’s spent a long time actively avoiding thinking about how she really feels (her and Wyll are both this way honestly they’re kind of a disaster) but she actually came to the realization on the same day, just a few hours earlier. They’d just finished defeating all the goblin leaders, and everyone was celebrating, including Leda despite the fact that she busted her lip pretty badly during their last fight with Dorr Razlin. In the middle of all their celebrating, Wyll pulled her aside, and used some warlocky magic to basically make his hand an ice pack, and held it to her face until Halsin or Honeylark(beloved @hauntedliz’s Tav) could heal her up. He didn’t care about sorting through any of the treasure they found, or even how they were going to sneak out of the camp unnoticed. He cared about her.

#thank you so much for the ask!#I love these two I could talk about them for hours #wyll ravengard #Wildheart #sorry it took me like two weeks to answer my brain is soup #wyll x tav

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ferallymine · 1 year ago

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Act 1 - Nightmare

a/n: Someone hug this man

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Astarion stumbled through the woods. Was he running? Hiding? Charging forth into the unknown? All he knew was that he couldn’t stop- it was behind him.

Ungrateful boy!

Cazador’s voice echoed in the darkness. The sound of thudding footsteps closed in- how many were here to take him? Dozens? Hundreds? Were all his false siblings here to exact their jealous revenge? No one escapes Cazador.

A piercing pain ripped through his head. Astarion gripped his hair, ducking behind a nearby tree, “Please…”

I found you.

The air caught in his throat. He pulled at his shirt, chest tightening. Breaths became labored and desperate for air. The bark of the tree felt rough and ragged- it tore through his shirt and scratched his arms.

He’d been thrust from one monster to another. Tears began to trickle down his cheeks. Had he been so terrible in another life that this was his punishment? What did he do to deserve this torment?

You’re coming home. Something touched his shoulder-

In an instant too fast to process, Astarion grabbed his knife and turned- stopping it as it touched his assailant’s neck. A small drop of blood escaped from the contact point.

But he wasn’t in the woods. Astarion was in the circle of bedrolls, white shirt noticeably wet with sweat from his anxiety. Cinders and smoke from the campfire slowly died off, drifting into the wind.

Rho, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, Wyll, and Gale were still sound asleep around them. Kaledia held up her hands, shallow breaths opposing his ragged, pained ones. Her blood faintly dripped down her chest and stained her faded blue top.

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

She took the pause to study her companion’s face. There was a feral look in his eyes, red irritation creeping over the white. Had he been crying? Further assessment revealed the truth- his surviving anger an attempt to hide his genuine fear.

Kaledia gently placed her hands over the knife’s handle, over his death-grip. Her motions were slow and steady- she didn’t want to startle him. His pale skin seemed more scarily white than before. A slight tremble could be felt as she lowered the weapon.

“You were thrashing about and crying,” Her voice was quiet to not wake the others, “If you kicked any stray rocks I thought you’d alert the others.”

“… I’m sure we wouldn’t notice if a rock dashed Gale’s face.” Astarion put the knife away, wiping any excess tears in an attempt to mask his pain, “Go to sleep, Kay.”

“You’re not sleeping well.”

“What’s it to you how I spend my nights?”

“Fighting enemies tends to go haywire when one is sleep-deprived.” She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

The elf shook his head, “I’m fine darling, truly. Go back to sleep.” He didn’t turn away from her, senses still on edge from his nightmare.

She sighed, standing up, “Will you walk with me?”

“At this hour?”

“You didn’t mind midnight strolls before,” a playful smile.

He rolled his eyes, pushing himself up to his feet. She led him to the other side of camp, away from the other’s sleeping bodies and listening ears.

… Why was he going along with this? What if she had been bribed by Cazador? Was this all a ploy to get him away from the others? The supply tents were near the treeline, perfect for an ambush to any unsuspecting fool. Astarion’s ears were perked up, posture rigid, waiting for any opportunity to defend himself should she pose a threat.

The bard opened the flap to her tent and settled herself inside. All her instruments were packed neatly in cases- her belongings carefully stored in special piles. A waft of vanilla rose to his senses- something about it felt comforting in a strange way. She motioned to him, allowing him to sit down before she closed the flap up again.

Kaledia propped herself up against the pillows and travel chest. She opened her arms, “If you’ll let me, I’ll keep watch tonight.”

Astarion felt frozen in place. On his knees, he stared at her offer. Was this a trap? There were splinters scattered about from chopping wood and fixing her instruments- what if she drove it through his chest? Even if he did accept, what if she changed her mind? What did she want from him to warrant such tenderness?

“I promise I won’t kick you out if you refuse,” Her voice soft, only for them in this tent. Was that concern in her eyes? “You look exhausted. Rho taught me some magic for unwelcome dreams.”

Astarion’s eyes shifted to watch Kaledia’s hand emit a soft golden glow. “You… want to tuck me in and magic all my worries away?” A chuckle, an attempt at stability, but his eyes betrayed his uncomposed nature. “Really, darling, what kind of desperate fool do you take me for.”

“You’re no fool, Starlight,” She sat up, holding out her hand for him to take, “But even you deserve a chance at peace.”

“You know nothing of what I deserve, what I’ve done.”

“True,” A kind smile, “But even if you were someone terrible before… everyone deserves an opportunity at a second chance.”

He hesitated a moment, before placing his hand in hers. Everything in his mind screamed at him to leave, to run. Kaledia gently pulled him towards her, leaning back against the pillow and travel chest. His head found rest nestled in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

She felt warm. He wrapped his arms around her torso… this wasn’t like his previous targets. Two hundred years of using his body to manipulate others. Astarion didn’t know how to act, how to be gentle or physical with someone without sex. Without it being for someone else’s gain.

Kaledia leaned her head down to rest on his. The screaming in his head stopped. Everything fell silent to the sounds of the night.

“I could bite you.” Astarion’s hands trembled.

“I trust you not to.”

“I could stab you after you fall asleep.”

“I trust you not to.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I wish you to have a peaceful sleep,” Kaledia raised her hand, gold again glowing, “May I?”

He braced himself, “You may.”

Kaledia’s spare arm held Astarion close while the one glowing began playing with his hair. Magic slowly drifted from her touches and ruffles of each grey strand. Her fingernails grazed his scalp, tracing unseen shapes.

Whatever sensation this was, Astarion didn’t want it to stop. Could she really want nothing from him? Freely giving tenderness out to whoever needed it? Where was she when he needed saving all those centuries ago?

Golden waves replaced the images and scenes haunting him. The fear of his master finding him, wherever he was now, slowly dissipated.

For the first time since he changed, Astarion slept peacefully.

#kaledia myst #astarion #bg3 oc #im feral for these two idiots #rho is busy romancing karlach #i just want them all to be soft and gentle and know that they're loved #is that too much to ask

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namig42 · 8 months ago

Text

New chapter just dropped. Something short and intriguing, and the next chapter is one that I have been DYING to write, so please enjoy, Wyllstarion shippers!

Just One Yesterday (Ch. 10)

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter >

Read it on Ao3

Summary: This is a modern AU where Wyll is a police officer and Astarion is a sex worker. Despite a problematic start, the two manage to find a connection and have it build in time into something more while also dealing with their demons.

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Over the course of the week, Wyll began to brainstorm a plan. He needed information. He needed to find an opening or an entrance to the Depths. As risky as it was, he needed to follow Cazador’s hunters and see where they went. If he could find one opening or some vulnerability of Cazador’s, then he could make some plan of attack.

It may have been foolish and a bit emotionally charged, but Wyll thought he had the best odds following Astarion. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to see him again, but Wyll felt confident that at least if Astarion caught him, he wouldn’t say anything to Cazador. Wyll couldn’t really justify his intuition past blind trust, but he felt confident that Astarion would spare him and keep him safe.

He was responsible enough to follow his orders from Mizora the majority of the week. After his negligence on Monday for going to the library, she had told Wyll that she needed more consistency from him. He had already skipped a few nights and Zariel was still breathing down Mizora’s neck. She needed Wyll to work faster and more efficiently. If he failed to bring in an arrest every night for the next couple weeks, there would be punishments for Wyll the following morning. Wyll took that to heart and didn’t want any extra trouble unless it was necessary, not if he wanted to be able to execute his own personal mission.

After a long week of being Mizora’s perfect little pet and doing her bidding without fail, Saturday came along. Wyll had been a good dog the entire week and felt fine to disregard Mizora tonight because tonight was the fateful night where Astarion went to the Elfsong. Though he told Wyll not to come back to the bar, he didn’t explicitly say that Wyll was banned from spending time outside of the bar. Astarion probably would berate him for the exploitation of such a minor stipulation, but Wyll didn’t have a better plan in mind and needed to make tonight count.

Tonight was Wyll’s first attempt at tailing one of Cazador’s hunters. He needed to see where Astarion went and see if there was anything new to learn from observing the crimes firsthand. He arrived at the Elfsong around dusk, not wanting to risk Astarion leaving the bar early, and stood outside in the alleyway. He was dressed fairly casually in jeans and a burgundy hoodie, doing his best to look as conspicuous as possible. He leaned himself against one of the walls and blended in with the crowds outside the bar, but refused to let himself be sidetracked by conversation. He may have looked a bit shady, but that couldn’t deter him. Not at this point. If anyone asked, he was a hopeless fool waiting for a date that definitely stood him up.

As the hours passed and the sky went dark, Wyll questioned if this was the right call. What if Astarion wasn’t here tonight, or if he had another Szarr member with him? What if he spotted Wyll? Would he be upset? Furious? It was unlikely that he would abandon his mark if he saw Wyll, but Wyll’s anxiety began to worry about the what ifs and question if this was all worth it.

Of course it is. He needed information. He needed to do something about Cazador and needed a way to find evidence. This may be a betrayal of Astarion’s trust, but Wyll had enough faith that the silver-haired man would understand if only he knew Wyll’s intentions.

As Wyll spiraled in a flurry of his own thoughts as he overthought every choice he was making tonight, the clock ticked past eleven pm. Just around then, a familiar flash of white in Wyll’s peripherals caught the officer’s attention. He turned and saw Astarion with a woman similar to the one last week, though this woman had short, jet black hair compared to the long, luscious blonde locks from last week. She had on a fitted, bold red dress made of a shiny satin with black stilettos. It was an eye-catching ensemble, to be sure.

The couple were walking hand in hand as they came out of the bar, and it seemed Astarion was leading the woman back towards the main street. He gave the woman a polite and charming smile, luring her into a false sense of security and lust as they walked. Wyll waited a moment before tailing behind them at a fair distance. As long as he kept them in his sight, that was all he needed.

When the couple made it back to the main street, they turned left and continued on in the amber glow of the streetlights. Wyll waited behind the corner for a few seconds before turning and following suit. As they walked amongst the bustling party goers, Wyll did his best to keep his sights on Astarion. It helped that his head stuck out in a crowd, and he was tall enough to not be buried amongst the masses. Wyll didn’t have to shove past too many people, but certain spaces of the sidewalk were overrun with nightclub lines and bar crowds wanting to escape the heat inside the cramped buildings, and so Wyll had to politely excuse himself multiple times, still doing his best to keep his eye on his target.

At one point, Wyll stumbled on someone’s foot. “Watch it, asshat!” A brutish ogre of a woman yelled at Wyll. It was unnecessarily crass, and just as Wyll was surprised at the exclamation, he turned and realized he lost track of his objective. Oh no, Wyll thought, quickly looking around. Too many people were swarming the pavement now. Wyll shoved the rest of his way through until he was back in the open, but Astarion had disappeared. He had vanished into the night. As Wyll took in his surroundings to figure out where exactly he was, he looked to the right and noticed a familiar entrance. It was to the park where they had first met. On a whim, Wyll dashed towards the entrance, hoping that his intuition would prove correct.

And thank the gods it did. Wyll ran towards the gates and saw that familiar flash of silver walking past the fountain with the saucey woman in the red dress. They passed under the white glow of the lamps surrounding the fountain, and Wyll continued his stealthy approach. They walked down a path and through some shrubs, and all of it began to feel like deja vu. Were they going back to that same shed? The one Wyll and Astarion had shared a night in captivating conversation in?

Indeed they were. Wyll stayed far behind, hidden in the bushes, but he watched the couple enter the small shed and close the door behind them. Now, all Wyll could do was wait. For what, he wasn’t sure, but if his theories were correct, then something would happen tonight at this little hovel abandoned in the park. He crouched low in the bushes, watching the time and staring intently all around the shed. It was twenty past eleven. Wyll lifted his hood and prepared for a long night of waiting.

After only a few minutes, Wyll began to hear noises coming from the shed. There were soft moans at first, then they gradually grew louder and higher in pitch. Wyll only heard one voice and knew it was the woman’s, howling because of gods know what. Wyll blushed as his brain started imagining what was happening that would have her screaming in such ecstasy. It was only a couple of minutes before the sound peaked and dwindled away. Gods, he felt like such a pervert for listening to this. Wyll felt like he shouldn’t be hearing anything that came from the shed, but he couldn’t be put off by something as soft and sound as modesty. If he was going to waste a night tailing Astarion and his escapades, Wyll needed something to come of it. He needed some result to justify his disobedience to Mizora and something to sate his mind as he endured her punishments. He just had to deal with this shame long enough for something to happen, and if nothing came of this self-proclaimed espionage mission, well… he could deal with that embarrassment later.

Wyll’s shame only worsened as the noises started up again. A second round? That quickly? Wyll looked at his watch and saw that it was just barely past midnight now. He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait before something significant happened, but gods, he hoped it wouldn’t be long.

Three more hours passed mostly in silence, much to Wyll’s relief, though occasionally Wyll heard softer sounds emanating from the building. He curled up in his hoodie and tried to drown out the soft cries of pleasure while his face burned, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the shed and risk missing something. The worst part was how vivid his imagination was. With nothing else to focus on, Wyll couldn’t help but visualize the scandalous actions going on behind those walls. He didn’t want to focus on the details, but his imagination couldn’t help it. He cursed his brain everytime it tried to paint a detailed picture of what Astarion could possibly be doing to that woman, what position they could possibly be in, where Astarion’s lips could be if his voice was missing almost entirely… Wyll’s face burned and he tried to shake the thoughts away, but to little avail.

Thankfully, something peculiar finally happened: someone new approached the shed. It was an old man that was just skin and bones with barely any gray hair left on his head. He was dressed in what looked like a blue janitor’s outfit with a black bag slung over his shoulder. He also had a dolly with him that he placed just outside the shed’s entrance. Before he opened the door, he pulled something out of the large pocket of his janitorial jumpsuit.

It looked like a pistol.

Wyll went on alert, ducking even lower into the shrubs and pulling his hood off to hear better. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was nearly four in the morning, only off by about ten minutes.

“What the- Who the hells are you?!” Wyll heard the woman shriek from inside the shed. He couldn’t see what happened, but there was more feminine screaming. “What? What are you doing? Get away from me! Astarion, help! Astarion?!”

After about ten seconds, it went silent. Wyll couldn’t hear anything else being said inside the tiny building, but there was a loud thud that he was able to make out amongst the dreadful silence. After about five minutes, the door opened again. The old man exited and reentered the shed with the dolly. When he came out once more, he had a crate loaded onto the dolly with Astarion following in tow. The woman was nowhere in sight, but Wyll had a suspicion that she was traveling with the other two, just in more cramped conditions.

Wyll saw the crate and remembered leaning on that very same box during his first interaction with Astarion. Did he lean on the very thing that they transported Cazador’s captives in? Was this what was supposed to happen to him that first night? It sent a wave of nausea through Wyll’s gut. To think, that could’ve been him in that box, unconscious and curled into a ball in order to fit, but Astarion had spared him from this fate. A warm pang struck Wyll’s heart at the realization, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

Astarion was buttoning the last button on his white dress shirt as he followed the old man away from the shed. “You’ve been too well behaved, boy. Hopin’ the master will find me a reason to bring you back to the kennels,” the old man said to Astarion. Astarion scoffed as he followed behind. “Godey, just shut up.”

“Good, keep up that kind of talk. I’ll be happy to tell the master all about it.”

Wyll began to follow behind the other two at a safe distance. He made mental notes as he stalked the two men and listened intently to every word. The kennels were something to be noted, whatever in the hells those were, and the fact that this Godey person kept using the term “master” told Wyll that Cazador was more than a mere boss to his ring. He had already known there was exploitation at play, but were Astarion and the other hunters slaves? Based on the way Astarion and even Aurelia handled questions regarding Cazador, it was a logical theory.

The two men Wyll tailed made their way through the park without much talk. Astarion had his arms crossed as he walked a few paces behind the old man, looking everywhere around him except ahead of himself or towards Godey. Soon, they passed through the center of the park and made their way towards the opposite side of the park, passing by the fountain as they crossed through the main square.

At the edge of the park, there was a wall of hedges. Godey approached what looked like a normal wall of ivy, then opened a secret door that led onto the Szarr estate with a mysterious handle hidden amongst the shrubbery, almost like magic. He walked through the opening first, followed by Astarion who quickly closed the door behind him. Once the door was shut, Wyll rushed to the hedge to try and find the hidden handle amongst the plants. He felt all around, but anything that felt like a hope was only a branch. “Shit,” Wyll hissed under his breath as the twigs snapped off the wall in his hands. He began pulling at the vines and sticks in desperation, and in the midst of his fury, he managed to pull on a thicker branch and heard a quiet click. Hesitantly, he pulled a bit more and the door gave way. Wyll peeked his head through just enough to see Astarion and the old man at the edge of the manor in the far distance. The two split at the edge of the building as Astarion made his way towards the front entrance, and Godey took the dolly somewhere in the opposite direction. Wyll left the door open a crack, afraid of not being able to find the handle on the inside of the estate wall if he wasn’t careful and cutting off his only means of escape. After securing his exit, Wyll began sneaking towards wherever the old man went.

Wyll went prone on the ground as he caught sight of Godey, hoping to be shrouded enough in darkness in order to not be seen in the bare parts of the estate grounds. On the Szarr estate, it seemed that all the nature and foliage was pushed towards the front of the manor. There were a few trees that outlined the main road and the notoriously lavish gardens towards the front gates, but the back of the manor had more open fields rather than flowers. The only things that seemed to stand out amongst the flat, plain lawn were a few pointed stone ornaments, each only a few feet tall. Wyll crawled his way towards one of them and realized that these were tombstones. He looked around and spotted nearly a dozen around the lawn, all tall, gothic, and grand in their design. Another point for the vampire allegations, Wyll thought in mild amusement. He crouched behind a tombstone for a Madame Tallon as he watched Godey walk the perimeter of the main house.

It looked like he stopped at a cellar door at the back of the manor. The old man opened the doors, then with a grunt, he got the dolly over the ledge and walked it downstairs with a loud clunk for each step the wheels bounced off of. Soon, the old man disappeared underground and the cellar doors closed. Afterwards, there was nothing but silence. As much as Wyll wanted to press further and see if those cellar doors were an entrance to the Tourmaline Depths, he didn’t want to push his luck any further. The fact he made it this close to the manor was already too much. Despite his courage and determination, Wyll was wise enough to know that this was the point of retreat. If he pushed any further and was caught by this Godey or any of the other Szarr staff, he could jeopardize everything before he even knew what he was doing.

Quietly, Wyll crept his way back to the edge of the estate and was relieved to see the hidden door was still open. He quickly made his way out and closed the door as softly as he could, then made his way out of the park and back to the street where he started the evening.

Though it wasn’t much, seeing the actual kidnapping take place helped him gain a clearer picture. The missing people were definitely being taken, though Wyll could only wonder how many people there were out on pickup duties like Godey. Maybe some of the victims were simply taken directly back to the manor, but there was no way for Wyll to know for sure. Not unless he asked more questions or kept going on these stakeouts and saw it for himself. There was no way he realistically could do this again though. At least, not every night. Not if Mizora was to be kept satisfied on her end of his contract. He didn’t even want to think about what she had prepared for him when he got to work in a few hours.

As Wyll reached his car, he felt exhausted. Gods had it been a long night, but it was only just beginning. All he could do now was sit in his thoughts and think of his next move, whatever that may be.

#bg3 #fanfic #mine #wyllstarion #bloodpact #wyll ravengard #astarion #bg3 godey #modern au #writing #just one yesterday

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realmbound · 11 months ago

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❝ and yet, in spite of everything ⸺ we persevere. ❞

𝐈 . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

name . . . . inara octavia nicknames . . . . tav age . . . .26 sexuality . . . .pansexual gender . . . .cis-female pronouns . . . .she/her species . . . half elf class . . . druid sub class . . . circle of roots and nature proficiency

𝐈𝐈 . . . 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

positive traits. . . .determined, compassionate, resourceful negative traits. . . .overly trusting, naïve, reckless, overprotective, bad habits . . . .picking up every natural resource she can find, struggles to accept help hobbies . . . .making flower jewellery fears . . .loosing the ones she loves

𝐈𝐈𝐈 . . . 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 !

faceclaim . . . .poppy drayton height . . . .5'6 hair colour . . . .ginger hair length . . . long down to her waist, often in two plaits eye colour. . . .green scars . . . .none skin colour . . . . sage green

𝐈𝐕 . . . 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

to be updated

𝐕 . . . 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 !

inara octavia, or 'tav' as she's affectionately called, was born under the shadow of the ancient forests of silesia, a land where the whisper of the trees and the song of the rivers echo through the ages. her lineage was a tapestry woven with threads of elven grace and human resilience, granting her a unique perspective on the world around her.

from a young age, inara felt the call of the wild coursing through her veins. she would spend countless hours exploring the depths of the forests, learning the language of the creatures that dwelled within and forging a deep bond with the land itself. it was during these formative years that she discovered her innate connection to the primal forces of nature, a gift passed down through generations of her ancestors.

guided by an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a profound reverence for the natural world, inara sought out the wisdom of the elders, studying under the tutelage of the revered druids of silesia. under their guidance, she honed her skills in the circle of roots, mastering the ancient arts of herbalism, shapeshifting, and elemental manipulation.

but inara's journey was not without its trials. as she delved deeper into the mysteries of the wild, she encountered threats both mundane and supernatural, testing her resolve and challenging her beliefs. yet, with each obstacle she faced, she emerged stronger and more determined than before, fueled by a sense of duty to protect the fragile balance of thereda's ecosystems.

her greatest threat was when she was captured by a group of mind flayers aboard their nautiloid ship. the ship crashes, allowing inara and several other captives to escape, but not before they're implanted with an parasite called a "nautiloid tadpole." this parasite grants inara certain powers but also poses a threat of transforming them into a mind flayer if not dealt with. inara navigates the lands, encountering various characters, factions, and challenges, while also contending with the growing influence of the tadpole within them. inara's ultimate goal was to find a way to remove the tadpole and prevent its transformation, all while helping her friends along the way.

since that fateful day, inara has become a legendary figure in thereda, her name whispered in awe and reverence by those who have witnessed her feats. yet, despite her growing renown, she remains humble and steadfast in her mission, a tireless guardian of the wilds and a beacon of hope for all who call thereda home.

𝐕𝐈 . . . 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

shadowheart, astarion and wyll: a ragtag group of strangers that became acquaintances and then finally friends when captured by a group of mind flayers aboard their ship. the group worked together and created a strong bond that inara believes can never be broken.

#theredahqintro

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halla-hunts-the-wolf · 1 year ago

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Late Night Visitors

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Declan receives a visit from friends while in the Last Light Inn.

A spiritual sequel to:

Pairings: Male Tav / Wyll

Warnings: sexual tension, ig.

The last time Declan slept with four walls around him was the night before the illithids attacked Baldur’s Gate. He had slept soundly in his childhood room, in a bed that had grown too small, after spending an entire day tending to his mother’s homestead. She always had a list of chores for him to complete when he returned from an adventure, and he imagined the next time would be no different once he and his companions defeated Keneric Thorm and left the shadows behind them.

At the moment, he couldn’t help feeling homesick, as his bedroom in the Last Light Inn filled with laughter. He sat with an old robe covering his bruises while his raven hair fell in stringy waves around his shoulders. To his delight, he smelled of strawberries and mint. After stealing a bath for himself with fresh soap included, he was happy to let some friendly faces inside, believing they could all use some company.

Declan had just finished toiling away at the mats in Mirkon’s hair and was now trying his hand at braids. Alfira watches him through a hand mirror and critiques his form. “Under that next strand, love, not over.” She laughs at his indignant sigh, “Your mother couldn’t have given you a little sister to contend with?”

“She said I always made her want for nothing. I assume that includes a second child. I was quite a handful.”

“I can imagine little you running through Baldur’s Gate, causing a scene.”

Declan hums in affirmation as he gets into a rhythm. With a careful hand, he begins to weave the woman’s hair into a simple pattern. “Reminds me of sewing.”

“You sew?”

“How do you think we’ve kept our clothes in good repair? Astarion and I spend hours by firelight fixing the damages. He’s much better at it than I am, always critiquing my technique.”

Alfira admires her braid and doesn’t criticize the loose ends. “Declan, is there anything you can’t do?”

“I’m terrible with lock picks, always snapping them in two.”

“Really?” Mirkon glances up from where he is reading a book on the floor. The aged pages crinkled beneath his deft hands. “That’s so easy! You can’t be heavy-handed with ‘em, and you’ve got to listen real good to the locks when they click.”

“Perhaps you can teach me one of these days, Mirkon, but for now, I’ve got a spell to get me through in a pinch.”

“You can’t always depend on spells.” Mirkon stands from the floor and holds his book aloft. “The adventurer in this story got locked in a room where his magic didn’t work! He had to use the things around him to get out.”

Declan narrows his eyes, trying to read the title of the novel from a distance and failing miserably. “I haven’t always practiced magic, you know. I didn’t pick up the craft until I started an apprenticeship as a teenager. Before that, I loved to use my environment to make things. I made toy carriages from driftwood or windchimes out of abandoned bottles. My mother couldn’t buy me new things on a farmer’s pension, so I made due. Truthfully, I only took on my apprenticeship to buy myself a lute. I was only supposed to work for Sir Emlyn, dusting his tomes and the like, but he noticed me reading some of his spellbooks and offered to teach me. I haven’t looked back since. He even bought me that lute for my birthday.”

“He sounds like a nice man,” Alfira says, recognizing the hint of grief that laced Declan’s words.

“He was.” Declan agrees, his memories flicking through the day the mind flayers came to Baldur’s Gate and the horror he felt when his mentor of over a decade fell to an illithid’s power. “I’m lucky enough to see him in my dreams, even if it is just his likeness and nothing more.”

Alfira reaches for him, her hand sliding over his own to give a consoling squeeze. As one of his closest friends, she knew about the dream visitor who offered guidance and protected him from his metamorphosis. The dreamer appeared as a high elf with the same striking features as Sir Emlyn, from his golden eyes to his earnest laughter. Whenever waking from their nightly meetings, Declan can’t help longing to speak with the real man, his true surrogate father.

“I dream about my mother, sometimes.” Mirkon continues, tapping his fingers against the spine of his book. “Reading before bed helps. Sometimes, I’ll dream about the stories instead.” He approaches the bed and holds his book aloft. “Maybe reading this will help you?”

Declan feels years younger because of the kind gesture. He can’t stop smiling as his free hand reaches for the book. “Thank you, Mirkon, I’m sure it will.”

The little tiefling beams, glad to be of service.

“Speaking of bedtime stories, I think it’s time for yours.” As the resident bard, Alfira had taken to watching over the children. Declan thought it helped to keep her mind busy and her heart light. “We should go gather the others and get some rest.”

“But I’m not tired yet!” Mirkon complains with a quivering bottom lip, fighting the urge to yawn.

“Maybe you aren’t, but Declan had a long day traveling here, so we should let him get some proper sleep in a real bed.”

“Aw,” Mirkon doesn’t fight as Alfira whisks him away, although his well-worn boots scuff against the floor on their way out.

Declan sits with the book for some time, curled beneath a quilt as he squints at the yellowed pages. He devours the story of a quaint adventure, relishing that, for once, he’s not the one facing down monsters or demons in the shadows. He’s near the middle of the book, as the hero faces down a dragon protecting its horde of treasure when there’s a knock at his door.

Declan sits upright, his pointed ears perked in anticipation. He expects danger to come exploding through the doorway, and magic threatens to fray the pages beneath his fingertips in anticipation. When no such danger comes, he rises from the bed to crack open the door. His heart leaps at what’s on the other side while his fear simultaneously melts away.

“Hey, chief.” Wyll’s standing beyond the threshold. There’s a nervousness to his soft smile that Declan finds particularly enticing at such a late hour. “I can’t sleep, and I was hoping…”

Declan opened his door wide to let Wyll inside, glad that he’d taken the time to freshen up earlier in the day. “I’d love the company. I was just reading.”

“Is that the book little Mirkon had?” Wyll stoops down to get a look at the title, “Alexander and The Relic? A classic hero’s tale.”

“It’s a breath of fresh air compared to the real thing…” Declan’s voice trails as Wyll straightens up, bringing them face-to-face. Their eyes meet in a silent moment of shared desperation. It pulls like magic, and Declan endeavors to lean into it until Wyll pulls away.

“I didn’t come here to…”

“Kiss me?”

Wyll fixes him with a bemused glare, “It feels like more than a kiss when I’m with you, Declan, you know that.”

“I know.” Declan felt the same, itching to be closer to the man, even after their lips parted or their hands intertwined after a battle. “And I know you want to take things slow. I told you I was okay with that, down by the riverside, and I meant it.”

“You’re so sweet.” Wyll turns back to him, reaching out to cradle his freckled cheek within the palm of his callused hand. “Thank you, truly, I’ve scarcely met someone as generous as you.”

“Stop it.” Declan shushes Wyll by tilting his head and placing a kiss against his palm, delighting in the way the tension melted from his posture due to the soft gesture. “You’ll make me blush. It’s unbecoming.”

“Then what am I?” Wyll wonders, hinting at the slight darkening of his cheeks. “I think I need some air. Come watch the stars with me?”

They walk hand-in-hand onto the balcony that wraps along the entire inn. At that time of night, even the shadowlands could rest. The only disturbance was a Harper on patrol and the distant clagging of Dammon working on his latest requisition. It should have made watching the night sky easy, but Declan couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering.

Wyll’s gaze transfixes on the few constellations they could see from such a dark place. They search earnestly among the stars as if they could find something remarkable hidden within them. “Reminds me of home,” he says after a moment, “That’s one thing about the night sky. It never changes, no matter how far you stray.” He leans against the railing, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’ve seen better.” Declan uses the compliment to pull Wyll from his thoughts. He was banished from Baldur’s Gate when he was seventeen, and with the city on the other side of the shadows, he was likely missing the place that raised him.

Wyll turns to regard him, and again, their eyes meet. The spark catches into a flame, hot to the touch and impossible to ignore. There’s a breathtaking moment where Wyll moves closer, his soft gaze flickering down to the curve of Declan’s lips.

The kiss kickstarts something in them, and the flame bursts into a blazing fire as the faintest brush of their lips turns into a display of tongue and teeth. Wyll folds the half-elf within his embrace, threatening to loosen the robe around his shoulders as his hands trail down the length of his spine. Declan busied his hand at the base of Wyll’s skull, brushing his fingers upwards and through the braids until he found curling horns to hold. Wyll lurches at this touch, his breath catching in his throat.

There’s an entire shift in Wyll’s body language as Declan drags an experimental touch along the base of the horn. Wyll’s strangled breath stutters into a soft groan, one rewarded with another kiss to muffle the sound as the patrol passes by beneath them. The threat of an audience has Wyll pulling away again, but only far enough for their foreheads to rest against one another. “See,” he puffs out, “more than a kiss.”

“I got carried away,” Declan murmurs, his touch lingering in his partner’s hair unapologetically. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Declan…”

“I promise to be on my best behavior.” Declan doesn’t make his case more convincing when he steals another kiss. “I was finding it hard to sleep, too, but I always feel safer with you. Please, Wyll, if you leave me now, I’ll be up all night thinking of you.”

The plea enriches Declan’s words, and to his credit, Wyll gives into a night of sharing a bed. “Well, how can I argue with that? Come on, love.” He gave a delicate pull to the robe Declan wore, tugging the elf into the four-cornered room that smelt like soap and burning candles, a hush falling over the pair as the balcony doors closed, and they found solace in a shared bed.

#baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #wyll ravengard #tav x wyll #alfira #declan Davenport #last light inn

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