#yes its because of Astarion what about him

[strawberriesforcait]

When you have BG3 brainrot but can't get the game because you don't own anything it's available on plus it's fucking SIXTY DOLLARS BRO

[perilegs]

not an astarion defender in the traditional sense, but in the sense that the whims he gets approval from are funny. i would also approve of someone throwing shit at people who asked them to smear their face with said shit

[nejackdaw]

WHY IS THE ENTIRE PARTY THIRSTY FOR ME GIRL I AM NEUTRAL WITH ALL OF YOU EXCEPT GALE AND HIS APPROVAL WAS ON PURPOSE

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his shy gn s/o nervously asking if they can kiss him on the lips?

note: going to answer his as if it’s their first kiss together reader is asking for!

bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13

Astarion

tries to downplay how genuinely pleased he is by putting on his typical bravado “oh well I knew you couldn’t keep away, darling”

secretly chuffed because he understands having boundaries over your body and he’s pleased that you’re comfortable enough with him to ask

doesn’t want to make a big deal about it in camp but doesnt hide, either — wraps an arm around your waist and brings you to where he’s standing in the mouth of his tent

wants to make it special. catches your lips with his fangs a little but not too hard.

melts a little when he feels your hand gently run up his chest.

when you break apart, smiling, he feels a little thrill at how happy you look ❤️

Gale

surprised you’re asking! out loud says, “you don’t need permission to kiss me, they’re always gladly accepted.”

but sees how much courage it took for you to ask. Is so happy you trust him.

looks around, “where do you want me…? it has to be perfect…”

that’s enough to break some tension, you laugh and press your lips to his

his hands settle on your waist. not too tight, just enough to anchor you to the moment

you can feel him smile into it 💕

“well I certainly hope that we’re able to repeat that.”

you laugh, and go in for another one…

Wyll

my man is a romantic. this kiss is at a planned event.

not that he’s pressuring you into it! he just wants to have a lovely romantic date and it so happens that that’s where you feel safe enough to ask.

you're sequestered away from the group, little picnic spread out, he wanted to have a nice moment for just the two of you.

you gather up the courage to ask him and he’s surprised for a moment! but then he smiles; hand sliding up your arm to cup your face, his lips meet yours when you lean into it

it’s perfect. soft, gentle, loving. you can feel the emotion behind it.

he’s smiling when he pulls back. for a moment, you want to apologise for not instigating this sooner. but then, as if he’s read your mind:

“you’re worth waiting a lifetime for.”

Halsin

honoured you trust him enough to ask.

he doesn’t care about rushing into anything. he’s an older man, happy to wait to take things at your pace.

not to say he isn’t pleased you asked — he is! he’s wanted to know what your kiss tastes like for a while now.

when we see him kiss in game there’s a ferocity behind it. but this time it’s soft, he lets you take the lead with pace.

uses his body to shield you from the rest of the camp so that the moment isn’t too public.

hands softly wrapping around you, bringing you to his broad chest. keeping you safe against him.

he mutters against your lips. “nature truly look its time with you. you are perfect…”

if he says it enough, maybe you’ll believe it’s true.

Dammon

is so immediately thrown he can’t even answer for a moment.

is the heat in his cheeks from the forge or something else…?

manages to find his words after a moment, “oh… yes! hang on, let me…”

cleans his hands, quickly splashes his face with water to remove the soot, turns to you-

“how should I…”

you reach over and gently press your lips to his, surprising him!

but then he wraps his arms around you, tail swishing in such enthusiasm it takes out a row of tools

he’s a bit nervous to start with but gets super into it

wants to do it again and again… if you’ll let him…

(and you do)

Rolan

you ask if you can kiss him.

an immediate “YES”

he’s so excited. there’s a non-zero chance this is his first kiss.

tries to be soft and careful but can’t hold in how happy he is.

teeth clack together a bit, maybe a bit too eager with tongue… but you find yourself smiling into it anyway 💕

again, another tail swisher. can’t keep his emotions hidden from you. doesn’t want to.

he wants to touch you all over but keeps his hands to your waist to make sure you feel comfortable.

when you pull away he’s blushing, muttering “wow…”

he’s left speechless by you.

Zevlor

my man is the most respectful tiefling around.

honoured to be asked to kiss you. I think he takes you somewhere quiet, secluded. doesn’t want people staring.

slowly brings you against his body before pressing his lips to yours.

you feel… protected by his kiss? it’s hard to explain.

you just know he’d protect you.

and the kiss is perfect.

[colonelarr0w]

Can you write one where Astarion realizes that Tav is acting strangely because it's actually Orin and the actual Tav is kidnapped by her?? Thank you so much and I love your work!!

A/N - Oh my god I absolutely adore the trope of kidnapped lover being rescued (the parasites in me crave the angst). I hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing it! So thank you @fanficlov-3-r <3

I Know You

Preview - "And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, '(Y/N) isn't amongst us.'"

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon BG3 violence

Word Count - 3.9k

Astarion prided himself on his ability to have memorized everything about you, from how your nose scrunched when you saw something you disliked to how your eyes sparkled when you noticed him staring at you from across the fire. It was those little things that simply made you … well … you. 

Which was why he found it very offputting when he noticed your excessive alcohol intake while attending a Tiefling party. Yes, you liked to indulge in a glass of wine or two while you chatted happily with Astarion or any of your other companions – but never had he seen you cradle an entire bottle of wine to yourself and drink it in its entirety. 

But that behavior was only one of multiple that he had noticed throughout the night; you were dancing with any Tiefling who offered their hand, you seemed to stray away from him and the others throughout the night, and the smile you wore did not reach your eyes in the slightest. It seemed fake, similar to the smiles that Astarion had once flashed at you to get your clothes off. 

“Is it just me or does (Y/N) seem a little … off?” Shadowheart comments, her eyebrow raising as she watches you indulge another Tiefling in a drunken dance. You stumble over both your feet and his own, a detail that both she and Astarion narrow their eyes at. 

For an oh-so-grateful leader, you were being careless tonight. 

Astarion’s eyes follow those of Shadowheart’s, landing on you just as you are finishing a dance with your fifth Tiefling of the night. He bows to you shakily, and in return, you curtsy – another move that Astarion had never thought he would see you perform. 

“I must say that I agree with Shadowheart. Excuse me for a moment,” Astarion abandons his half-empty wine glass, sliding it across the bar. The bartender raises a brow at Astarion, but says nothing. 

You chuckle heartily as a Tiefling female approaches you, in her hands a sparkling glass of champagne. You take it from her the moment it’s offered, just about to bring it to your lips before a pale hand clasps over your shoulder. 

“Ah-ah darling, I think that’s enough with the drinking for one night,” Astarion says with a fanged smile, angling himself so that he’s able to pluck the champagne glass from your hands quickly. You turn to him, eyebrows pinched together in an expression that mixes frustration and shock – as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t. 

“Come off Astarion, I can indulge if I so choose,” you retort quickly, fingers extending towards your glass. Astarion lifts his arm, the glass just barely out of your reach. “You are indulging tonight, are you not?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your shoulder as his scarlet eyes rake over your figure. Something was wrong, it wasn’t just your general composure – it was everything down to the very way that you stood on your own two feet. 

“While that is true, I am watching what I indulge in,” Astarion says, already glancing at Shadowheart, who nods knowingly. She mumbles something inaudibly then to Gale, and soon a secret message is relayed over all of your companions. 

The Tiefling female had long since left your side, only adding to your annoyance that Astarion had come to your side. You turn sharply to face him, eyes narrowing at him. 

“And just explain to me why you thought it necessary to disrupt my fun?” you snap, glaring daggers into the vampire who stands in front of you. Astarion merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes flicker over you again, and it is in that moment that he realizes something … you were most certainly not you. 

And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, “(Y/N) isn’t amongst us.” 

“Because I know you (Y/N), and right now,” Astarion pauses only to yank you closer, lowering his lips to your ear. “You are not who you say that you are.”

You freeze in his arms, eyes flickering to look at him. The crease in your eyebrows vanishes, your expression of frustration replaced now by one of shock. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” Astarion growls, his grip over your wrist tightening, “I know (Y/N), and she would never indulge in such things of her own accord.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not protesting as a very angered Astarion drags you out of the Tiefling party. He is quickly flanked by Shadowheart and the others, none of whom offer you looks of sympathy – if anything, they look just as angered as the vampire in front of you. 

The moment that your feet touch camp, your wrists and ankles are promptly tied by Karlach, who offers you no answers even as you demand to know what in the hells is going on. Astarion stands quietly at her side, his arms folded over his chest whilst his mind promptly races.

Where were you? Who was sitting in your place? Where the hells were you?

With a singular wave of his hand over your body, Gale reveals Orin to the others, then steps back and glares down his nose at her. In response, her lips only turn upward in a grin, one that sends a shiver down the spines of those that surround her. 

“Where is–”

“Oh please, save me the dramatics,” Orin says with a roll of her eyes, adjusting herself so that she sits comfortably. Her attention moves to Astarion, her smile widening at the sight of the expression that he wears. 

“You have five minutes to answer our questions before–”

Orin’s head tilts in Lae’zel’s direction, her eyes crinkling as her smile widens impossibly further. Her lips part, a delighted chuckle falling from her lips. “Before what? You kill me? If I die, (Y/N)’s location dies with me.”

In a flash of white and silver, the blade of a dagger is pressed against the skin of Orin’s neck, pressed down just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Astarion kneels in front of Orin, narrowed eyes glaring daggers into her as his lips pull back in an angered growl. 

“You will reveal (Y/N)’s location lest you want to end up a paled mess on the ground.” He was shocked by how much your disappearance had affected him – especially considering that he was supposed to be keeping his affection for you a secret from the others. 

There was a reason behind his secrecy, however, a reason that you had agreed with when he had first proposed the idea to you. It was for your safety, for your protection. But it seemed like even with that … he still couldn’t keep the one thing that kept him sane safe. 

Orin chuckles, leaning forward so that her nose just barely grazes his own. He can feel her breath as it fans over his face – it disgusts him. 

“Is that so?” Her head tilts, another delighted chuckle bubbling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Astarion pushes the blade further against her, ignoring the yells of warning delivered by the other members of the party. 

His eyes narrow, his eyebrows pinch together, and his expression hardens. Orin only chuckles again, sighing dreamily in a way that reminds Astarion of a hopelessly lovesick girl. Gods, what he would give to plunge the blade of his dagger into her neck. 

“Fine, but I hope you know I’m not yielding because of your … intimidation,” Orin murmurs, pouting childishly as Astarion pulls her to her feet, still glaring at her. He says nothing as he drags her past the others, not checking over his shoulder to see that the others have followed him.

< … >

Another chilled shiver runs up the length of your spine, using your vertebrae as a ladder. You turn uncomfortably onto your side, trying once again to tug your ankles from their shackles. All you’re met with is the sound of rattling metal. 

It had been a few hours … or perhaps even a few days since you last saw the others. You didn’t know – perhaps time worked differently when you were captured. 

The last you remembered, you were walking silently along a forest pathway with Astarion a few feet behind you. You were engrossed in the beauty of the willow trees that hung silently over you, their branches serving you the beautiful luxury of shade that covered you from the sun’s blaring rays. 

Just as you turned a corner in the forest, a cold hand that wasn’t Astarion’s clasped over your own, tugging you away into a forest patch. One good knock to the side of the head … and that was the last that you were able to clearly remember. 

When you awoke, your ankles were shackled to a wall and your wrists were bound with rope, rubbing uncomfortably against your skin and leaving behind angry red marks. 

Your body had been littered with marks; cuts, bruises, and gashes. At first, they hadn’t hurt you at all – but you blamed that entirely on your adrenaline. Now every cut burned, every bruise ached, and every gash felt as though it would never stop bleeding. 

Surely every vampiric creature within a 50-mile radius could smell your blood … especially considering how much of it lay in a disgusting puddle surrounding your body. 

A shaky breath escapes you, one that you surely hoped would be your last. Your teary eyes flicker around the cell that you’d been thrown into; the cell that lacked even so much as a window. You were completely disconnected from the outside world, and for a singular moment, you thought that maybe you had died. 

And maybe you were okay with that now … with dying. 

Even though for so long you had tried your hardest to protect everyone – practically throwing your life down on the line for the lives of your companions – being captured was making you realize something. 

Maybe they didn’t care about you nearly as much as you cared about them.

If they cared, they would be searching for you. If they cared, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in some dank old cell with no way to know what time of day it was. If they cared … they would prove it, wouldn’t they?

A choked sob claws its way up your throat, legs curling inward. You wrap your arms around them, hugging them against your chest as your body curls inward into a fetal position. 

They didn’t care. Not Gale, not Karlach, not Lae’zel, not Shadowheart. 

Not even Astarion.

Astarion …

After everything that you had done for him. You had spared him that morning while walking with Shadowheart. You had let him stay in your camp even though he spat venomous insults each time you interacted politely with him. Hells, you had even let the damn man feed on you. 

In exchange for your blood, he was letting you rot alone in a cell. 

So much for helping others, you think quietly to yourself, tears slipping down your cheeks as your lashes flutter shut. A gentle numbness spreads over you as if someone had draped a blanket over you. It felt nice. It felt safe. 

Your shoulders relax, your lips part. 

One gentle breath falls from your lips before all goes silent.

< … >

“Come on now, I’ve led you right to where she is! The least you can do is entertain a conversation,” Orin complains loudly, huffing childishly as Astarion continues shoving her forward. 

There was no lie to her words, she had led Astarion and the others to where she had thrown you – a dimly lit dungeon hallway that was only filled with the sounds of low groans and dripping water, but even those had become scarce the longer that they walked. 

“The only thing I’ll entertain is your demise,” Astarion bites out, though he desperately wishes that he had kept his mouth shut. Orin doesn’t fail to catch the tremble in his voice – the vulnerability that seeps from his words. 

Her lips curl, another delighted chuckle rumbling somewhere deep inside of her chest. Her eyes flicker to catch a glimpse of Astarion’s profile, her chuckle deepening as she notices the emotional turmoil sketched into his features. 

“I wonder what you will do to me when you realize that she’s–”

“Hush,” Astarion hisses, reaching down and yanking the bonds around Orin’s wrist. The rub of the rope against her skin is enough to silence her. “Not another word out of you, wench.”

Orin stifles the small whimper of pain that had threatened to fall from her lips, instead turning to the cell that they were nearing; your cell. 

At the sight of the metal bars and uneven stones, she giggles. Astarion passes her off to Shadowheart, ignoring the cleric’s protests as he approaches the cell. 

“Oh shit.”

The world seems to go completely silent at the sight that lies before Astarion’s eyes, a sight that he immediately wishes that he could forget. 

You lay on your side with your back facing the cell’s door, blood – your blood – surrounding you in a crimson puddle. The bits of skin that Astarion can see are littered with cuts and bruises, your legs covered in gashes that continue to drip with fresh blood. 

In any other situation, Astarion would have marveled at both the sight and smell of your blood … perhaps even allowed himself to indulge in it. 

But now?

Gods, he had never been more disgusted by any one sight or smell. 

“Astarion? What’s – oh my Gods,” Karlach raises a hand to her mouth, palm covering her lips as she gazes upon the same sight as Astarion. The others join her, and each of them falls silent. “You take … her … and get out of here.”

Shadowheart nods, shooting Orin a sharpened glare before tugging the shapeshifter back down the way that they had come, ignoring her yells of protests and the way that she struggles against the ropes that bind her wrists together. 

With one tug at the already worn-down metal, Karlach disconnects the bars of the cell. She steps inside, carefully approaching you before copying her previous actions and removing the shackles from around your ankles. 

“(Y/N)?” she murmurs down to you, lightly shaking your shoulder while simultaneously trying to be sure that she does not burn you – the last she wants is to add to your injuries. 

She’s pushed aside by Astarion, who kneels beside you and feels his breath hitch at the sight of your paled face. Your cheeks have lost their usual rosy color, replaced instead by a white that looked as though it could rival the color of his hair. 

“Shit,” is the only thing that he’s able to say properly before he scoops you into his arms. He shakes on his feet for a moment, the sudden weight in his arms debilitating his balance. He says nothing as he strides past the others, making a beeline for the exit.

< … >

The first thing that you feel is a dull ache, then followed by a wave of pain that has you shooting upright and promptly vomiting onto whatever surface happens to be beside you. The moment you’ve finished emptying your stomach, a piece of cloth is offered to you by a pale hand – a familiar one this time. 

Hesitantly, you take it, dabbing the cloth against your mouth before looking up to who had handed it to you. 

“Astarion?”

“That would be my name, yes darling,” Astarion responds, though his tone doesn’t hold his usual flirtatious lilt that you had grown so used to. No, he sounds exhausted … it made you wonder just how long he had sat at your bedside. 

Your eyes roam over him, taking note of the tiny, barely-there bags that rest beneath his eyes. For a man who cared so deeply about appearance, he surely looked as though he had let himself go … likely because of you.

As much as you wish to take him into your arms and comfort you, a fleeting thought passes through your mind — he had taken his sweet time in finding you. 

If the roles had been reversed, and it had been Astarion who was taken from you, you already knew that you would have searched Heaven and Earth trying to find him. No stone would have been left unturned, no witness left unspoken to … you would have stopped at nothing. 

But it felt as though Astarion hadn’t cared enough, if he had, you wouldn’t have been as badly wounded as you were. You wouldn’t have laid in that cell for as long as you have, not that you knew the length of time in which you had been missing anyway. 

Astarion’s head lifts at the sound of you rustling, body scooting back from him until your spine rests against the headboard of your bed. You lift your knees to your chest, hugging around them. 

“Darling?”

You remain silent, but you allow your eyes to raise to meet his awaiting gaze. He waits patiently, though you can’t help but feel as though he’s analyzing you.

“How long have I been gone?” you ask. Astarion pauses, scarlet eyes flickering away from you. He swallows, you can see the emotional turmoil that swims in his eyes. Answer me, you usher in your mind. 

“Orin wouldn’t tell us,” Astarion answers honestly, voice wavering as he recounts his angered questioning of the shapeshifter. She had only giggled in his presence and “answered” his question with another question of her own. 

You remain silent, nodding to yourself as you glance down at the bandages that adorn your arms and legs. It makes you wonder if Astarion had patched you himself … or perhaps he had made one of your other companions do it. 

You lift your head, noticing now that Astarion’s attention was focused elsewhere. His expression looks identical to your own — caught in his own mind. Guilt. 

Did he feel guilty?

“Does anything—“ he pauses to clear his throat, “—anything hurt you?”

”Just my arms and legs,” you answer. Astarion nods, inhaling deeply and shifting in his chair. For some twisted reason, you want him to stand up and leave. Maybe it was to further prove your point, or maybe you just wanted to be alone. 

You’d never really know the true answer. 

He hums, nodding to himself before he shifts again. For a fleeting moment, he debates on whether or not he should stand and exit — it was clear that you wanted your space anyway. 

Astarion knew you … and he knew that right now, you certainly didn’t want him around. Never were you short with him, but your tone insinuated that you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Not that he could honestly blame you. 

And so, he stands from his chair. You don’t lift your head to look at him again … telling. 

“Why did you take so long to come for me?”

He freezes, feeling as though someone had doused him in freezing water. His back stands rigid; you could see the way that his spine visibly tenses the moment that his mind processes what it was that you had asked him. 

You snap your jaw shut the moment that the words fall from your lips, regret filling your senses. Sheepishly, you look down, staring at your lap and screwing your eyes shut. 

You freeze at the feeling of arms wrapping over your shoulders, tugging you against a chest that you had spent many nights resting against. His skin felt cold against yours, a welcome contrast to the heat that was currently making you very uncomfortable. 

Astarion’s cheek rests against the side of your head, his hands squeezing at your waist while also being mindful of the injuries that you had sustained. He sighs shakily into your hair, feeling himself relax as he feels you reciprocate his embrace. 

“The moment that I realized that I was not interacting with you, I went out to find you,” Astarion confesses, holding you tighter as he recounts the fear in the moment when he realized that you were not you. 

You remain silent, simply soaking up the comfort that Astarion’s arms provides you with. Your head rests comfortably in the junction that connects his neck and his shoulder, nose buried into his neck. 

“You have … absolutely no idea how frightened I was,” he whispers, his voice so low that it even the rustle of the blankets overpowered his words. His arms shake where they rest around your waist, his fingernails just barely digging into the exposed skin of your waist. “The prospect of losing you–”

“Astarion.”

He pauses, feeling you shift in his arms. Without any word of protest, he releases you, settling onto his knees on the bed in front of you. You adjust yourself, then reach out to take his hands into your own. 

Astarion flinches. You pause, waiting for him to say something to you. He doesn’t, and so you take it as an okay to continue. Your fingers squeeze his own, the action directing his eyes to your own. 

You stay silent for a second or two, simply taking in the way that Astarion’s eyes soften at you. His usually sharp scarlet eyes are glazed over now with a new emotion – guilt. Guilt over not being there for you, guilt over not saving you sooner …

… guilt that you had gotten hurt. 

“Darling, if I had the chance to save you sooner, know that I would have taken it without a second of hesitation,” Astarion admits, shifting an inch closer to you. You feel the tears building along your waterline, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you attempt to suppress the sobs that begin to bubble up somewhere in your chest. 

One of his hands releases yours, hesitantly laying against your face. He thumbs away the tears in your eyes, sighing as you crumple and reach for him again. Astarion doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head. 

“I thought that,” you hiccup, “you and the others had forgotten about me.”

His arms tighten around you at that declaration, chest promptly collapsing it on itself as he realizes just how scared you had been. He doesn’t want to imagine what you must have been thinking in that cell, likely thinking about if you would ever be saved.

If he would ever come for you.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair, fingers stroking comforting circles into the small of your back. “I would never forget you, ever.”

“You are the first thing in my entire life that makes me feel … feel something. Something other than burning hatred. You make this wretched world worth living in.”

You squeeze at him, hands bunching up his shirt from behind. He doesn’t bring attention to it, letting you cling to him with as much force as you need. 

“And I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever,” he promises you. You close your eyes, sighing shakily through your nose. He can feel your nod against his chest, his cheek leaning further into your hair. 

And that night, when the glistening moon hung over your tent and signaled to your companions that it was time to rest, Astarion remained at your side – fulfilling his promise.

He wasn’t going to let you feel that scared again. Not now, not ever.

[crazy-lazy-elder-sims]

To the people that say they hate Gale Dekarios of waterdeep Because he isn't over his ex and he keeps bringing her up, being hung up on his lines comparing you to her and saying ur superior, always mentioning her

Ex. "I love you, much more than myself, more even than mystra, "

Putting aside all the toxic relationship talk and the grooming debate, are you guys aware of what he is actually saying? when he says you put mystra to shame and you make him forget her? What does he actually mean? The magnitude of his words?

MYSTRA IS MORE THAN HIS EX SHE IS HIS GOD !

Yes He is literally telling you "when im with you i forget the god i worship" every time he talks about mystra its not just an ex to him its his god ....

Like are you guys aware of the magnitude of that?

The fact that if you do the weave magic sex insane wizard scene its literally in front of his god that has asked for complete devotion from him yet he is so fucking bold to do that "right in the palm of mystra" FULLY KNOWING THAT?

Man idk about yall but to me gale is the boldest craziest bitch of them all like its not even that hidden with his story line, his insane measures he took to try to prove himself , the multiple remarks and comments , him telling you in front of everyone that he wants to have sex with you right out of battle, not hesitating to threaten to incinerate Astarion with a smile on his face to protect you, him not hesitating to give his all with no fear in love and demanding the same type of love and devotion (this is all said in a positive light btw) but to top this all off he is also indirectly telling you he has abandoned his god for you .... The god that gave him his magic.... AND despite all that he is still the gentle loving kind wise strategic guy we know and love so ...

Come on now how can you call this guy half of the shit the haters say about him he is so complex and real full of contradictions and just written SO well

Sigh can you tell he is my fav blorbo lmao

Here have some pics with his romance quotes to remind you how devoted he is to you

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

What Comes After

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018 3244

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I literally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them! Edited: 10/6/24 Fixed some spelling mistakes and grammar, added a lil more flavor and tried to make it all present tense lol also this has a title on ao3 now it does here too

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in his eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walked away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed to reach him that day, but your actions didn’t. You severed the connection of your tadpoles, kept Astarion from seeing his scars. You would not be the one to allow such evils to be birthed, would not allow him to kill 7000 souls. You did not allow Astarion to become the vampire ascendant.

Astarion, hurt, broken, and lost, then choose to walk away from you and everything the two of you had built together over this adventure.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, to be precise. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hells, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

It must be night now. Your candles are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment. You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. One who could save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, sighing and shaking his head before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding. What does he see, in this room that shows the layers of your sorrow?

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.” You look to where he keeps his eyes trained. All you see is a monument of your regrets.

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. To your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him. Its bracing, in an entirely disgusting way. After all-- he was the one that did this to you. “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with everything sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours before quickly looking away once again. You realize, with much sadness, that even now as he tries to burrow into your familiar warmth, he hesitates to reach out and touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized maybe this was for the better. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he might consider that. That he might actually miss you too.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands. It hurts just as much as when you watched him sob after killing Cazador.

Some how, you summon new tears to cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment, settling into one anothers missed company before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand before he can get too far.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. The last time he left you, he didn’t come back… He can forgive your sudden clingyness, then, but not how you’ve let yourself go in his absence.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, choosing to trust Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, attempting to take the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you in a way you’ve needed since his departure.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair, darling.” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let him work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely through your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion lets you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watches, helpless, as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. In the bright morning light that pours in with her, all he can do is look at her with wide eyes as her mouth begins to open. Acting fast, Astarion speaks before she does.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turns from Karlach, brushing some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkably polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Burn

My heart always hurts when I watch the cutscene where Astarion burns under the sun. Dammit Larian Studios

Summary: You chase after Astarion when he runs away from the rising sun and remind him that you chose him.

You watch as blue lines crawl across his skin, steam rising as the sun eats away at him once more, now that he is free of the parasite. You hear the panic and sadness in his voice as reality sets in — he is no longer immune to the sun, condemned forever to live in the shadows. His ruby red eyes lift to meet yours as his skin scorches, an apology falling from his lips and he rushes to find shelter before you can say anything.

“Astarion!” You shout, watching his fading figure. He doesn’t look back, of course he doesn’t, he doesn’t have the time to when all he can think about is how his skin is searing. Your other companions remain rooted but your legs find an extra burst of energy and soon you find yourself hot on your lover’s trail, desperate to find him.

“Astarion!” You call out, panting from the exertion. Running like that just after defeating a Netherbrain was not a good idea, and you can feel your head spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to steady yourself and lean against the nearby wall, getting as much air into your lungs as possible.

“Astarion,” you gasp, forcing yourself to keep moving, telling yourself that the vampire was suffering more than you were. You stagger onwards, barely remembering where you last saw him and pray that he hasn’t gotten far.

You make your way to a stack of crates hidden behind a docked ship and find a figure huddled in the corner, shaking. You stumble towards the figure, fingers hastily fumbling for the clasp of your cloak which you throw around the figure’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Star,” you breathe, relieved. You feel his arms slide around your waist tentatively, cautiously hugging you back.

“Why are you here?” He whispers. The scent of your lifeblood fills his nose, causing fangs to peek out but he holds himself back, holds the hunger back.

“For you, of course.” You continue to hold onto him tightly. “I’m not leaving you alone, not ever.”

“Why?” He can feel you, feel your warmth, your touch, but a part of him still nags at him, trying to convince him that this is all just a dream, that you want nothing to do with him, not when he is confined to the darkness. He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in the fact that you’re here with him, that you came for him when you could be out in the new dawn with the others.

“Why? Because I love you, I’m hopelessly in love with you and I don’t want a future without you.” Your fingers ghost over the burns, an ache in your heart when you see how badly the sun has burnt him. Even as the sun scorched him, he still took the time to apologise, to look you in the eye, to tell you of how much he enjoyed the journey.

“Even if it means being unable to live in the day? Being unable to feel the sun on your skin?” The words cause a lump to form in his throat. He wants to push you away, tell you to find someone else, someone better. You deserve so much better than whatever he can give you, you deserve to be able to live with the sun warming your skin, you deserve —

“Yes. I know what it means to be in a relationship with you, I know it means never seeing the sun again, never feeling its warmth, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with you.” The fierce fire he fell in love with back then burns in your eyes, daring him to deny you your choice and he feels himself falling for you all over again.

Your devotion to the people you care about, the lengths you would go for each of them, the love you had for those around you. He had once found all these traits foolish, but now they were his saving line, the reason you were currently kneeling by his side, tenderly caressing the rough burnt skin of his cheek as you firmly declared your intent to remain by his side for the rest of your life.

You pull the cloak over his head and shoulders, ensuring they cover as much of his skin as possible.

“I look terrible, don’t I?” He gives a hollow laugh.

“And yet still so beautiful. It’s not fair how you can pull that off.” You chuckle, tilting your head to offer your neck to him.

“Drink up,” you say with a smile so bright it blinds him. “Then we’ll head back to Elfsong Tavern and discuss what to do next.”

He tugs at the cloak around him. It smells of you, the scent deep and warm. He buries himself in it, grateful for the protection it provides and gently rests his lips against your bare neck. His fangs prick your skin, and then dig deeper as blood begins to flow into his mouth. The cracking blue lines on his skin start to fade, his usual pale likeness coming back as he drinks your precious lifeblood, savouring every drop freely given.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your neck.

“Anytime,” you murmur back, holding him close. It always brings a sense of comfort, feeling him in your embrace, breathing in his scent. You hold him for a while longer, basking in the feeling of his cold undead skin against your warm living skin until the others find the both of you.

Your group makes its way back to Elfsong Tavern while shielding Astarion from the sun’s rays. The walk is filled with a quiet yet comfortable silence, exhaustion from the day’s fight and thoughts of the future that lay ahead setting in.

Everyone files into their own rooms, leaving you and Astarion standing in the corridor, facing one another.

“You really mean it?” He asks. He has to confirm, he has to make sure that he is making the right decision to entrust a part of his future to you.

“Mean what?” You tilt your head quizzically.

“That you don’t mind staying with me.” He shifts his weight from one leg to another, playing the corners of the cloak over his head.

“I mean it. We’ll find a way to get you walking in the sun again, and if we cannot, then I don’t mind spending the rest of my life in the shadows.” You take his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly. “You’re all I need, you’re all I want in this future of my choosing. I hope I’m in the future you choose as well.”

In the future he chooses? He…oh right. Cazador is dead, there is no master to tell him what to do, to control his every move. He can decide what he wants to do next, where he wants to go, who he chooses to spend his time with.

And he wants to spend it all with you.

“Of course you are, my love. There’s no one else I’d rather have.” He flashes his usual smile, eyes softening at the way you light up upon hearing his words.

“Then…let’s start planning it, together.”

“Together.” He agrees, liking the way his new future sounds. Even if he had to skulk in the shadows for eternity, maybe such a life wasn’t so bad with you around. He would have you to wake up to, be able to hold you, be loved by you, even if he had to burn under the sun.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: BODY HAIR, BHAALIST DU DROW, BLOOD INQUIRIES, THE MAN'S DICK AND HOBBIES.

Answering more asks! As always, I want to apologize for not being able to get to everyone - literally nobody has ever complained about it, but I still feel bad 😅I appreciate everyone's questions and sweet messages all the same, and even if your ask isn't here I hope you can be entertained by the other replies!

Anon I feel terrible about having to say this because I can tell you were hoping for a specific answer here, plus doing your very best to sell your pitch to me -

But DU drow hates body hair.

I'm not making this up in the spot just to be a contrarian, this is one of various unimportant character details that have come up already at some point or another, for whatever reason. It is no coincidence that many of the characters he finds unattractive do have visible body hair, like Gale and Halsin whose hairy toes he dreads the sight of.

I refuse to believe that elves are truly dolphin-smooth as that would be an absolute biological nightmare, so both him and Astarion have a normal amount of peach-fuzz all over. Otherwise, DU drow finds the sight of anything longer/coarser than that unseemly, and the feeling unpleasant; it is simply what he grew up with and hence what he's used to. In this respect, he wants people who take after his own image.

As with most things, he could forgive it if he were in love with someone - assuming you don't mind the occasional joke about it. And unfortunately I think something as significant as Halsin's case would be too off-putting for him to ever give them a chance. A Shadowheart situation, on the other hand, he could grow to like.

I believe there's some sources that imply bhaal-corrupted(?) blood should taste a particular way, leaning towards the unpleasant. People can make up whatever headcanons they want with that information, BUT since I spent over half of this game supplying the guy with the stuff and he seemed all too pleased about it, I choose to assume it's not that bad.

I think there would be something... Lively about it? Fairly normal taste but it leaves a tingle on his tongue, like it squirms on its way out and dies in his mouth moments before it can hit the throat. Very salty, but it could just be his skin.

[FAR, FAR MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Bhaalist DU drow likes both cats and dogs just fine (again, he considers the animal kingdom to be it's own thing and hence removed from his fate to butcher humanity) and you wouldn't be wrong to assume he has a thing for dogs in that AU because of their unconditionally loving and loyal nature, however Bhaalist DU drow is still very much a cat person. He likes their independence, their little attitudes, their self-sufficiency, plus the fact that they keep the rat population in check inside the temple. He finds those qualities admirable, respectable, perhaps he would even find them desirable in a partner if, unlike he cats, he wasn't so opposed to them roaming free.

In-game DU drow succeeded the check required to spot Astarion before he could jump him - so yes, just not the version where they end up rolling awkward around the sand for 2 minutes, LOL.

He's semi aware of it, or at least he becomes aware whenever Astarion's mask slips. When Astarion is putting on a good performance, DU drow wholeheartedly believes it. Also, It's worth noting that Astarion does manage to have fun occasionally, and have periods of... Superficial happiness? They just so happen to be unfulfilling, and don't make up for all the other pitfalls of his situation when they inevitably come crashing back. He's also great at tricking himself into thinking this is a good time.

Bhaalist DU drow makes vague attempts at "making things better" whenever he catches him in a mood, usually through physical affection or lavish gifts. That works well enough the first year I think, before everything kind of loses its luster. After that, DU drow just gets it into his head that Astarion "doesn't understand what he must do to succeed and keep him safe".

This is a VERY interesting observation and... Maybe? Especially early in the relationship, DU drow finds Astarion's quasi-predatorial behavior very attractive, but only AFTER he notices his vampirism. I think this outlook of the character contextualizes Astarion's condition in a way that he can immediately understand and simpathize with, even if DU drow doesn't know much about vampires themselves. Of course, this is specific to Astarion - he does not extend this grace to the rest of his kind.

I'll be thinking about this one!

I don't know the video in question but from your description I think they would both be VERY confused, LOL.

HMM, I think that might actually depend on a lot of things! Assuming the woman (or just the other partner) in the relationship isn't a drow, and exactly what KIND of devotion we're talking about (is the drow pro-active? Protective? Does he put his neck on the line for this relationship with pride? Does he seem strong and capable and like he doesn't rely on his partner?) he might see enough of himself in him that they could actually get along. This is similar to how DU drow immediately took a liking to Aylin even though she's this moon-goddess child and a supposed beacon of justice.

The quickest way to get on DU drow's good side is to be the idealized version of what he believes himself to be. Oh, and not get in his way.

If they're both drow it's kind of hopeless though, yeah LOL.

Planning on it!!

DU drow never slept with Haarlep! He only took his clothes off and then attacked him full in the nude.

...I'm not sure how to justify that in the lore, but it's exactly what I did and it's too funny to take it back, LOL

I think Astarion was just kind of baffled by what transpired until DU drow turned to while hopping around pulling his pants back on and asked if he enjoyed the show, then he remembered he just loves finding any excuse to take his clothes off.

That's a lovely compliment, I definitely go for a very "organic" look so I genuinely appreciate it. Thank you!

Thank you!!! A lot has actually been said about Gortash in my #enver gortash tag, if you'd like to get all the gritty details. Suffice to say that they had a very odd but significant friendship.

DU drow is the kind of person who shoots awake as soon as the sun starts gracing the sky, but he tends to do whatever he has to do and then go back to bed right after, and stay there at least a bit past noon. He did this both in his bhaalist days and in Astarion's company, though the amount of time he spends asleep during the day definitely increases because of the vamp, especially over time!

So, the urethra in a penis is located pretty much on the underside of the shaft, so the wound actually does not reach it! As far as functions go - peeing and ejaculating - it comes out of the tip's opening as normal. When he first caused the wound it probably did puncture the urethra, but that would have closed up over time. What you see is the injury many years after the fact, after all.

So the implications are pretty minor. Aesthetically, his foreskin hangs a bit weirdly when he's soft (like a tiny little penis curtain) and has more give than usual. Functionally, he has spots within the scarred up injury that are either numb or overly sensitive. Also, you can kind of see the dickhead notch through his underwear which is fun.

Otherwise, that is pretty much it! No worries about the nature of the question I've gotten worse, LOL. Thank you for your kind words as well!

I think he used to write in his bhaalist days - very, very occasionally mind you - like if you scoured the temple you would find a dozen or so ripped up pieces of paper with little short poems on them, written in a very sharp and carefree hand. Anywhere from 3 to 10 lines per-poem, usually less than more. The sentences are descriptive of actions, never feelings or thoughts, but they don't ever seem literal.

Back in those days, he also went to the theater every other year.

Post-tadpole, he ends up dabbling in carpentry, leather-work, and enjoys listening for musical numbers taking place in taverns and inns to go to and watch. He eventually starts pulling Astarion into little slow dances when that happens. I think he might end up writing again someday, but not for many, many years.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion was not a "corrupt" magistrate.

Hello again. Just more opinion about my favorite battle buddy. Warning, trigger words in use. Game spoilers.

It's not quite set in stone that Astarion really was a magistrate, but we are going to go with the idea he was for this thought pocket. Also this is just game as it is now info use.

I don't believe he was corrupt magistrate. There were a few things in the game that called that out, but one in particular really set it in stone for me.

His response to the Ansur lair puzzle regarding justice.

Astarion: “Mercy?! Please. Justice should be a harsh lesson. All the better to deter the next vagabond.”

This makes me think he was a bit of a hard ass as a magistrate, but not corrupt. Had he been dealing dirty in the background I really feel like this answer would have been more dismissive or flippant. But he is pretty intent that this is his stance. Very, iv said this a thousand times, type feel.

I think, he was more of a by the book, law is law type. You murder and rape you swing from the gallows. You steal from a shop keeper, you do time. Period.

My theory is, he got beat up because he wasn't lenient with a member of the Gur that was on trial.

"Leniency?! You have been found guilty of negligence resulting in the death of a innocent! You are owed nothing!"

Could you hear it?

"But he talks about being hedonistic and indulgent all the time. "

Yes, but most patriar level citizens were spoiled entitled brats that did what they desired. Have you talked to some of them in the upper city? Yeeesh.

Was he arrogant? Most likely. Prejudice? Obviously (insert gnomes here). But being a haughty jerk does not make one evil.

Sex, nudity, orgies, parties, over indulging etc are not taboo in Faerun. If everybody is consenting to be being naked in a fountain, hopefully in a private villa garden, its not a crime. He talks about that like its a memory, but I like to think his wine drunk giggly ass was actually in that fountain.

If you want to have a little rabbit hole fun, break down the name. Faerun = Fae Run = Run by the Fae. And last I checked, fairies were always down for some naked in the water time. I mean, come on, you can go to pound town with a bear. (No offence, Halsin.) You think they are going to draw the line at how may wieners you can have in the same pot? I think not.

I think the criminal behavior came after he was turned. Cazador may have been targeting him, but not because they were involved. But maybe due to him looking like his old master Vellioth? And he took advantage of a situation. Who knows, lots of ideas there.

"But he's always getting onto Tav for doing the "right" thing."

Yup, Tav is being too trusting and getting too involved with other peoples problems. Why is this an issue for Astarion? Kindness was what got him entombed for a year. He cared about that sweet mans life and was severally punished for it. Its akin to being mauled by a dog and then watching people just reach out a pet every one they see. The anxiety of that attack is still there and it paints every encounter with its opinion. Danger.

"He's not smart enough."

Oh I bet he is. You can be whip smart at a subject and socially akward at the same time. I'm very good at my job. I know it inside and out and can give you any detail, rule, configuration at the drop of a hat in the most professional and proficient way possible. But ask me to be eloquent in a social situation? HA! You are better off asking a rock to fart. Unrelated.

"But he wants to ascend, and that's evil."

That is more about who is is after years of torment and abuse. Not before.

I think the rogue role was adopted to stay alive while hunting. And what a gods awful fate to be turned into the thing you hated the most. A criminal.

I'm sure Caz was real tickled by that. Expletive Adjective.

[moonmaiden1996]

Paws, Pouts, and a Pettiness

Honestly, I have loved writing these little stories! I have written about five these week to keep me sane! I hope you enjoy.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, scattering warm golden light over the camp. By the small river at its edge, you knelt, gently scrubbing the dirt from Scratch’s fur. The loyal dog wagged his tail in sheer bliss, his bright eyes fixed on you with a look of unwavering trust.

"Such a good boy," you murmured, working soap into his coat. Your fingers paused now and then to scratch behind his ears, earning a pleased huff as he leaned into your touch. His happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling at his unguarded joy.

However, that happiness that did not extent to a certain pointing ears of elf. Not far off, Astarion stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the scene. The sunlight dappled your damp skin, each droplet shimmering like it had been purposefully placed to torment him. His sharp gaze moved between you and the dog—a dog!—receiving care and affection that, in his not-so-humble opinion, should have been reserved entirely for him.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. What did that mutt have that he didn’t? His hair was better, his presence infinitely more captivating, and he certainly didn’t leave muddy paw prints everywhere. And yet here you were, lavishing care on that slobbering beast.

With a swirl of his crimson cloak, he strode toward you, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn ground. As he approached, you glanced up at the sound, and to your surprise, his usual smirk was absent. In its place was a dramatic pout, his expression a masterful blend of wounded pride and exaggerated heartbreak.

"Darling," he began, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. "Tell me it isn’t true. Have I truly been replaced? Is my endless devotion not enough for you?"

You blinked up at him, bemused. "Replaced? Astarion, it’s just a bath. Scratch got himself filthy today."

"Filthy?" he repeated, placing a hand over his heart as though you’d struck him. "And yet here you are, treating him like royalty. When he was the one that happily dived paw first into the puddle. Meanwhile, I—your loyal, loving, and might I add exceptionally attractive companion—am left standing here, abandoned. Neglected! How could you, my sweet? Have I not earned your touch?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, turning back to Scratch, who wagged his tail happily, utterly oblivious to the vampire’s theatrics. "You’re being ridiculous," you said, rinsing soap from the dog’s fur. "Scratch needed a bath. Besides, I thought you’d be thrilled—you’re always complaining about how he smells."

"Thrilled?" Astarion gasped, his voice rising in incredulous outrage. He crouched beside you now, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "My dear, do you see what’s happening here? That mangy creature is stealing what’s rightfully mine. I’ve been sitting over there, watching you dote on him, fawn over him, for what feels like an eternity. When was the last time you touched me with such care? Or looked at me like that?"

"You want me to give you a bath too?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His lips quirked up into a devilish grin. "Is that an offer? Because yes, I think I deserve a bath." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "I want your hands on me, scrubbing my back, washing my hair... tending to me in every possible way." he purred seductively.

You paused mid-rinse, water dripping back into the stream as you fixed him with a skeptical look. "You’re jealous," you accused, though your voice was light with amusement.

"Jealous?" he repeated, gasping dramatically. "No, no, my darling. Not jealous—heartbroken. Utterly heartbroken. My poor, withered heart may not survive this cruelty." He glanced over at Scratch with narrowed eyes. "First, the mutt takes your attention. What’s next? My place by the fire? My bedroll."

Before you could respond, Scratch bounded away, shaking off water with wild abandon. A spray of droplets hit both you and Astarion, and the dog happily flopped onto the grassy bank, basking in the sun. You made to follow him, but Astarion’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. His crimson eyes met yours, the usual mischief replaced with something raw and unguarded. "Don’t go running off after him again. Stay with me. Please."

Your heart softened at the vulnerability in his tone, but before you could reply, he tugged you forward—too fast, too forcefully. You stumbled, falling into the shallow river with a loud splash.

"Astarion!" you shrieked, glaring up at him as icy water soaked through your clothes.

He knelt beside you in the water, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated innocence. "Oh dear, what an unfortunate accident," he drawled, though the triumphant smirk curling his lips betrayed him. "I suppose this means you’ll have to spend some time with me now. Away from the dog."

"You’re insufferable," you snapped, splashing a handful of water at him. It hit his chest, darkening the fine fabric of his shirt.

"And yet, you adore me," he countered, utterly unfazed. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with surprising gentleness. "Admit it, my sweet. You’d rather be here, soaking wet and utterly enraptured by me, than doting on that mongrel."

Your scowl melted into a reluctant laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you’re stuck with me anyway." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, the earlier dramatics replaced by a raw neediness that stole your breath.

As the water lapped around you, his forehead came to rest against yours. "Tell me you love me more than the dog," he murmured, his tone halfway between a command and a plea. "I need to hear it."

You laughed softly, your fingers tangling in his damp curls. "I love you more than Scratch."

"Thank the gods," he sighed, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "I was beginning to doubt my charms."

From the sunny bank, Scratch tilted his head, watching the scene with mild confusion. But when you didn’t chase him, he flopped onto his side with a huff, ear sagging as he watched you both. For now, it seemed Astarion had successfully reclaimed your attention—for now.

Please LIKE.COMMENT.REQUEST.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Been thinking about Durge romances and how much I love the companions. Many people love Astarion's response when Durge gets their "kill your lover in their sleep" scene and, fair, that was the point that I unfortunately began to genuinely love the pointy bastard. I do enjoy watching him sass Bhaal. Plus you being the only one he's not afraid of in the world and also "we can compare notes" because he recognises what's happening, yes, yes.

And additional honourable mentions to Lae'zel and Karlach:

Lae'zel threatening to bite you back and informing you that if you don't beat Bhaal you will be fighting her and that will be much worse, topped with the gem of "Not to be maudlin, but I'm glad I didn't gut you."

Karlach asking you not to bite her because trying to eat her flesh will hurt you. also she growls back at you. and asking what the fuck you're talking about when Durge goes into one of their, uh, poetic moods. And parallels: "It's bad. I won't say it isn't. But... I've done worse. Powers beyond our control picked us to do their dirty work - that isn't our fault." I mean Durge has absolutely done worse, but I concede the gist of your argument.

But my favourite variants are these three (in no particular order):

Shadowheart's "Hells, what I wouldn't give for a boring lover sometimes" shortly before scolding you - "no biting!" Bad hellspawn! Bad! Use your words! - It's the middle of the night, she's tired, and she expected something way more fun that this damnit. (also; "She was starting to trust you. The only one she ever has. Pity it's coming to an end." *screaming*)

Wyll reminds us he's the one with the high charisma stat in this party with his pep talks: "The coast would sooner be swallowed whole by the Sea of Swords [before I'd hate you]." - "Rise up, meet its gaze. Show it no fear, and grant it no mercy." - "You are a champion. If this foe demands blood, then tear off its limbs and let it drink its own!" Never been more revved up to punch Bhaal in the face, thank you. And Sceleritas directly compares himself to Mizora and aAhHHHhhhhh-!

And then there's Gale, who clearly has no idea what's happening or what do about it. Get it out of your system, he says, trying his best to be supportive. "This is not good, if I may state the obvious." - "No, no clotting. I like my blood flowing in my veins, thank you most kindly." He would prefer not to die, thank you. 10/10. Durge is way too distracted by this to listen to Bhaal right now.

[finn-writes-stuff]

Hello! Can you write for Gale, Astarion and Halsin's reaction to tav wearing the wavemothers robe? Nsfw please😳

An Intricate Jewel

Tales tell of a most wondrous fish, scales resplendent, an intricate jewel that shone beneath the sea. When it died, the Wavemother gifted its hide as a robe to her most devoted follower - and demanded she drown the sailors that killed her gem-bright fish. - Item Description

Halsin, Gale & Astarion x Reader

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

I haven't actually gotten to this robe in my own playthrough yet, but I've seen plenty of it online lmao. This one isn't fully nsfw but it's spicy. -Finn

Halsin

"Oh. You look stunning, my heart."

He is openly admiring you any chance he gets. It is shameless because why would he be ashamed of looking at you? Of admiring all of nature's bounty before him.

He's handsy if you allow it, holding onto your hips where the slits of the dress show off your skin. Pressing kisses to the back of your neck just over the collar. Halsin always loves getting to see more of your skin, and this dress is certainly showing it off.

In general, he is a big believer in wearing whatever you want and enjoying it. He's hardly going to get jealous about others getting to admire you, so long as he's allowed to look as much as he pleases as well.

Even better, when you still have water clinging too you after being healed, dripping down your skin and making the dress cling even tighter.

You'll have him pressed up to your back to murmur in your ear about what he would like to do to you the moment you can both slip away.

And once you get the chance, he'll be between your thighs with the skirt pushed up around your hips. And you'll get to see just how long he can gold off before tearing the dress off of you completely.

Gale

"Oh! Yes, well, um, you look lovely! That sure does, well, show off your figure. Hmm. Yes."

This man is bright red and cannot look away from you. Yes, he can be blatant in his own flirting, but you make his brain shut down sometimes. And in this dress? Oh Gods

He is trying so incredibly hard to be a gentleman. He is NOT staring at your legs or the cut out in the back of the dress or how much it reveals of your chest or the way it clings to you as close as he wants to be. He is definitely not thinking about any of that. He missed his spell for unrelated reasons.

Show off in front of him, put yourself in his line of sight constantly. He will be going insane trying to stay polite and focused. And it's always a fun game to see if you can make him trail off in the middle of a monologue about magic.

Gale will spend an entire day suffering and watching you and trying not to say anything about it, but the moment the party breaks camp, he is dragging you into his tent to show you just how much he likes this dress on you.

You've left him so pent up after the whole day. He can't get enough of you, touching and grabbing and kissing you like you're the air he needs to survive.

The dress stays on until he's made sure you are both fully sated for the night. And he swears that if you wear it again he won't be so patient.

And if he's going to make a promise like that, he shouldn't be surprised when you wear it the next day.

Astarion

"Ohoho, please do say you're all dressed up for me, love."

He thinks this is delightful and would do the same thing if he could find something flattering enough.

Trying to tease him with it? No, that's his game. He's teasing you by letting his hands just barely touch you, appearing behind you to whisper in your ear about how delectable you look. Then slipping away before you can say anything back.

If he's noticing anyone else paying you too much attention, he'll make fun of them for it, but he's also likely to stick closer to your side, his arm around your waist. Showing the world that you're his.

He's the least worked up about the dress, but he likes it when you still stay by his side regardless of how much attention it gets you. He's just as much yours as you are his, and he'll be more than willing to reward you for being such a sweet thing all day.

He wants to see the way the fabric presses into your skin when you arch your back and let him sink his teeth into your neck.

[twi-liight]

Sooo. You just posted Petty Jealousy 20 mins ago and I just wanted to say that I loveeee itttt. Can we please have more? Like Astarion and the other companions subtly do somethings to the person they’re jealous of to turn them away from Tav.

Tav’s companions are just sooo cutee when they’re jealous. Wyll and perhaps, Halsin being the only sensible ones.

Thank you!

Red With Envy ❣

The YA love heptagon of the century: Tavrem. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Lae'zel/Tav, Companions/Tav. It's Gale/Astarion if you squint. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you! ❥ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Astarion would never beseech himself to touch a member of the working class, but things change. People change. And here he is draping an arm around Gale’s shoulders to boldly declare his presence upon the rickety, wooden table. 

“Oh.” Blink blink. Gale gawks with round eyes, then not-so-discreetly glances away from Astarion’s heavy gaze to the only present company at the table: salted bread with thick slices of white cheese, anchovies, and sop for the bread. This sorry excuse of a presentation must be breakfast, which begs the question- Is Gale’s blood so blue that he cannot skip a meal or is he trying to make a favorable impression? 

Astarion would much prefer the former. It means he does not need to scrub his hands raw from the filth of peasants after this interaction.

“Uh, good morning, Astarion.” 

“Mm?” He flashes his fangs to grin. “A good morning indeed, my friend. How lovely the dawn breaks over the horizon, but with no one to share the scenery with! I pitied you, and out of the kindness of my heart, opted to join you.” 

Alright, enough touching. Astarion draws his arm back to poise a curled hand beneath his chin, glancing over Gale’s face in a vain attempt to study him. “Well-combed hair. Your posture,” he raises his hand to gesture at the wizard, “is much cleaner than yesterday. You’re practically glowing with morning dew, and…”

Here, he leans forward, just enough so that his nose lingers on the curve of Gale’s neck, just so his hot breath hits his skin as he murmurs, “You smell like Tav.” 

This greedy bastard slept in their tent last night because he caught some sickness from meandering about gaseous spores, and Tav cannot ignore the needy. Would that Gale be some beggar on the road and not an accomplished wizard with a higher emotional maturity than he.  

Astarion would be more comforted if he was a one night stand, a quick romp for the leader of their party to take the edge off. But anything beyond that is sabotage for his best-laid plans. 

Astarion’s smirk curls as deep, roiling darkness tug at his mind. He leans back slowly, never breaking eye contact. “They let you sleep in their tent. What a darling.” While they slept by the fire, ash and dirt swirling in their hair, Gale was embraced in Tav’s blankets and scarves. The lingering scent of something floral sticks on his skin, and Astarion recognizes it as the oleander Shadowheart presented Tav a fortnight ago. 

Gale smells something else: rusty and metallic, like the smell of a storm brewing. Has Astarion’s eyes deepened in color, like wine? His tongue feels heavy in his mouth all of a sudden. “Yes,” he agrees, thinking of Tav for some semblance of comfort. “I was sick, and they offered their tent for the night. More blankets, they said. Easier to be warm in - look, Astarion, do you have a problem with my friendship with Tav?” 

The laugh that pushes its way forcibly out of his sneering lips is sharp and mocking. Something burns in his chest, and it feels like seething anger. “My, that’s a strong word. I would say acquaintance is more befitting of your,” Astarion gestures to Gale once more, fighting back a scowl, “station. You’ve known Tav for barely a few months - they’re not quick to brand just anyone as a friend.” 

“Is that right?” Gale’s brown eyes spark with challenge. What a doll. Finally got his spine. “I ought to wonder how you befriended them, then. Anyone with half a mind knows your shenanigans are acts of desperation; you want them to like you so you can manipulate them. I know your type, Astarion.” 

“And you… You, what, you are not? You’re using Tav just as much as I am, darling. Otherwise, what are you here for? Companionship? Ha!” Astarion does not know why, but his entire being is alight. As if the sun’s rays are scorching him. He can barely contain his temper, barking out between sharp teeth, “Get a grip.” 

Gale is hardly fazed. “You’re delusional. Whatever threat you think I present to you?” He lifts his chin, eyes alight with power and rage. “Confront it. Dig your grave. Lie in it. While you’re busy lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to dance them around your little games, guess where I will be?” 

Silent, seething anger. It burns. Astarion’s eyes are blown wide with rage as he gazes into Gale’s eyes, digging his nails into his palm as his fingers wrap around the hilt of his dagger. 

“There to catch them when they realize everything you’ve done is just an act.” Gale leans forward this time, a warning blazing in his brown eyes. “Think whatever you wish of me, Astarion, but never in your life think I would never fight for those I cherish.” 

Cherish. Astarion almost sinks his teeth in his throat to shut him up. “Good,” he purrs, fighting every urge not to massacre Gale where he sits with his dingy little breakfast. “I would be sorely disappointed if you succumbed too easily to me.” 

This would be so much easier if Astarion didn’t care about losing Gale, either. If he must concede, Astarion can admit to himself and the Devil alone that Gale is beyond useful in battle. Herald of the Weave, Mystra’s little boytoy? He would be endeared to watch Gale’s story end. Whether it be in smithereens or in the bosom of his former goddess, it will be fun to watch. 

Something in the back of his mind gnaws at his anxiety that Gale will be the one to turn Tav against him. This pretty little fool never wanted him in the party, wary of him, which is the smart thing to do. Tav was not. Tav was too easy to trust him. To easy to ply around his fingers until he had them even offer up their blood. 

He resents Gale for making space in their heart. It could have been his. 

“The dawn rises as I do: strong, and watching over two bread boys exchanging heated words like knives.” Lae’zel’s voice, sleek and smooth, startles them. Gale visibly jolts away from his proximity to Astarion’s face, brown eyes widening as Lae’zel approaches the table. She takes one gander at the spread, grabs a fistful of anchovies, and shoves it down her mouth without care. 

“You,” Gale stammers. “That was for–” 

“Silence. Githyanki must feed well to prepare for the new day. I will not hear your incoherent mumbling, wizard.” Lae’zel at least has the decency to chew with her mouth closed. She gulps the food, grips her fingers around Gale’s mug of watered down wine, and downs it with a tilt of her head. 

Astarion pouts. “We were having a moment, dearest Lae’zel. Now, I love to tease Gale as much as you, but it is my turn to press on Gale’s pretty little nerves until he explodes. He does not need to be,” he flares a hand out to Lae’zel, who is still downing the disgusting concoction with impressive concentration, “hounded.”

Gale looks confused. Astarion thinks that is not a state he often experiences. “Thank you?” 

And now he’s grateful? Astarion regrets his string of words in the last five seconds. They should go back to fighting.

Lae’zel slams the mug down on the table, perishing the rest of Astarion’s train of thought. She wipes the drink from her lips with her arm, thinks for a second, then nods, resilience plain in her expression. “I must warn you: distractions outside of our goal will be our end. I will not fail to cut either of you down if you produce disappointing results. However.”

There’s a ‘however’? Gale and Astarion exchange a glance, the animosity between them gone, replaced with more confusion. “I think you may be misunderstanding,” Gale begins. “Astarion and I-” 

“You two are lovers,” Lae’zel says with the confidence of a thousand burning suns. Astarion has never wished for that to be more true. He wants to be eviscerated where he sits right now because he cannot pick up his jaw from the ground. 

Gale looks like he just swallowed a rat. Like he is seconds away from throwing up. He needs a moment, experiencing vicious whiplash from wanting to kill Astarion to now, wanting to kill Lae’zel. “You— huh.”

“I support this companionship,” nods the githyanki sagely. 

“You are a bloody fool.” 

“No. I am efficient. Two of my enemies have been wiped off the playing field, which means there is less competition.” Hands on her hips, Lae’zel looks at the campgrounds proudly. “Make love to each other loudly.” She jerks her head over her shoulder, a sneer twisting her sharp features as she looks at them. “Try to drown out my name from Tav’s lips tonight, for I will be taking their hand and heart.” 

No fucking way. An oversight on his part. How could he have been so blind? Of course Tav is desired, not just by him or Gale, but by everyone else in the damn camp! This is much more troublesome than he realized. Fine, then. He should prioritize the rational thinkers like Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart and– oh, Karlach. Not darling Karlach. She would never turn Tav against him, would he? 

Fine. Halsin and Lae’zel can go first. 

“Momentary truce?” Gale offers. 

“You read my mind, handsome. Lae’zel, darling! Come back over here - we just want to talk.” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[moonselune]

Hii, do you have any headcanons for the companions at the beach? (Let's pretend it's during the story and the companions decide to take a (deserved) break for a day so Astarion can actually stay in the sun lol)

omg omg omg omg yes I'm going to write this as more of a headcanony rambling list because the THOUGHTS I HAVE

Astarion

he is sunbathing and don't you dare stand over him he will gut you

he is not putting on sun cream because 'the burn is worth it'

irl he just wants to feel the consequence of the sun on his skin, to feel it one more time

but he will just tell everyone that he is too gorgeous to burn

he is bright red at the end of the day but its worth it - though not so much when Shadowheart says his sunburn isn't worth one of her healing spells.

Karlach:

YOU WANNA PLAY MERMAIDS!!?!?!?!?!?

She would 1000% dive for cool rocks and shells and bring them back to companions, the less receptive they are, the more she brings them as if to prove something

que Minthara, Astarion and Lae'zel having piles of shells and rocks near them

starts a volleyball match, the volleyball becomes a flaming meteor by the end of it because of how competitive she gets

plays chicken in the water with Shadowheart on her shoulders vs Lae'zel with Minthara on her shoulders - Min'zel lose because they are too strategic.

pouts when told it is time for them to go home and runs back in the sea, telling them '5 more minutes!"

Gale:

Smothered in sun cream

shades and floppy hat does not give a single fuck

Gale is having a day off, mage hand fanning him with a ridiculously large fan.

says he isn't going to of the bbq because he always cooks yet gets involved some how

definitely a backseat cook

"I mean I haven't seen anyone in Waterdeep do it that way, but you are the blade of frontiers after all"

Minthara:

She has found everyone the best beach spot - she doesn't care that it is an extra ten miles from camp the companions will appreciate it

Finds it hard to relax but eventually does after a bottle of wine or two - thanks to shadowheart

She even gets roped into beach games, which she tries to dominate but eventually loses - though she always blames her teammate for it.

Despises the sun so whenever she is resting she is in permanent shade,

She also had the big shades and big hat, the fact she is matching with Gale is just an unfortunate coincidence (Gale's fault of course)

Builds a sand fortress with Lae'zel.

Lae'zel:

Much like Minthara, is very practical about it all

Does some laps in the sea

Surprise tackles her companions into the sea, to see how they would react.

This does not go down well with Shadowheart who has just gained her confidence in swimming again

Lae'zel makes it up to her by making a sand fortress

It's a prototype for her own Gith fortress one day but she guesses shadowheart can lay claim to it for today if it means she'll stop complaining about her hair getting wet

Chows down at the bbq and joins Karlach in the sea when its time to go - she enjoyed the beach more than she thought she would.

Wyll:

This is his time to shine

This is his BBQ

He burns everything

Yes its not how they do it in waterdeep but what does Gale know ( a lot apparently)

Plays it off as a foreign sword coast culture

nobody believes him but nobody says anything

plays mermaids with Karlach

is also very competitive when it comes to volleyball

falls asleep in the sun afterwards and Shadowheart puts sun cream patters on him

isn't mad about it

Shadowheart:

Tells everyone that she is not getting in the water

After 5 minutes of being there she is in the water

Halsin does turn into a porpoise to help her swim (no secret meaning behind it because it turns out Shadowheart is in fact a terrible open water swimmer)

She's the one with the cold flask of cocktails and wine topping everyone up

She won't admit it but perhaps she gave Wyll one too many 'juice drinks' and that's why the food burned

Joins the shade with Minthara, draws a sun cream penis on Wyll but then feels bad

When Lae'zel shows her her apologetic sand fortress she is actually touched and puts a shell on it

Scratch runs through it 0.5 seconds later

Halsin:

Man just fucks off in porpoise form after helping shadowheart learn how to swim

They accidentally leave without him

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 6 - Cream

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: just silliness and fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Excerpt: “Oh, goodie! Someone in need of a rescue,” Astarion whined and threw his arms up dramatically. “What is it with people falling over themselves to get into trouble just so we can play hero time and time again! Let’s just go,” he said with an air of an overtired toddler.

A/N If you want to be on the tag list, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment. ❤️

Day 1 - 🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

It started with you craving some pastries. The four of you were making your way through the city when you caught a whiff of something sweet, delicious and so very tempting. You kept on walking at first, because you were on a budget and new armour for Karlach was more important than letting your sweet tooth dictate your purchases. But then your stomach made itself known, to your embarrassment.

Gale smiled and pointed in the direction of the bakery. “Seeing as we are nowhere near Elfsong, how about indulging in some baked goods? I, for one, wouldn’t mind having a sweet butter bun or two.”

Well, that was a different matter entirely! If it wasn’t a senseless purchase but rather something to improve morale, who were you to refuse?

“And I find your blood tastes just a little sweeter if you enjoy yourself, dear,” Astarion whispered into your ear.

“Oooh, I’ve heard about this place!” Karlach pushed the door open, “it’s meant to have the meanest, best damn apple pie in the city!”

Looking around, you wondered why Karlach was excited about the place. The bakery looked like any ordinary bakery except for one detail. It seemed to be suspiciously empty of any people. You listened carefully. There was shouting and thumping coming from the direction of the kitchen. Something seemed off.

“Oh, goodie! Someone in need of a rescue,” Astarion whined and threw his arms up dramatically. “What is it with people falling over themselves to get into trouble just so we can play hero time and time again! Let’s just go,” he said with an air of an overtired toddler.

“We can’t leave!” you frowned, bow at the ready as you took a step in the direction of the commotion, “they might need help!”

“Well, then some other do-gooder is welcome to come by and- hey!”

Ignoring Astarion’s protests, you burst through the kitchen door, the rest following close behind, to be greeted with a most peculiar sight.

Kobolds pranced around the kitchen to the dismay of the baker and a woman who appeared to be his spouse, the latter’s face almost puce as she shouted at the wretched creatures to leave. The kobolds seemed to think that her shouts and the weak, spluttering spells aimed at them were a nice accompaniment to their meal. They mostly ignored the couple and seemed to be quite content to gorge themselves on the pastries and cakes and, cream, cream, cream and more cream! What did not get eaten got carelessly thrown at the floor, the walls and the owners. There was a great big glop of custard on the baker’s cheek and his wife almost slipped in the puddle of jam on the floor.

Astarion doubled over in laughter.

“Oh, this was not what I expected to see but I definitely needed this!”

“Oh hush,” you admonished him, feeling your own lips twitch as you fought a smile. “We have to help them.”

“The kobolds?”

You gave him a deadpan look.

“Right, so how should we go about this one, soldier?” Karlach shouldered her axe with a frown, “can hardly use most of my attacks.”

“Yes, in such close quarters and with this much flour in the air, a single spark will set off an explosion. Most magic might prove too destructive. I doubt that us destroying the building in an effort to drive the kobolds out will be received with thanks,” Gale frowned.

“Perhaps we could try to reason with them?” you suggested weakly. The idea was not without its merit. You did have a somewhat successful chat with the kobold at the Circus of the Last Days.

“Are you proposing to hold a conversation with these base creatures? Oh, I have to see this,” Astarion grinned, giving you a shallow mocking bow and motioning for you to proceed with the entertainment.

That bastard. Sometimes you could not believe that you let him get away with being such an ass.

You cleared your throat loudly, which garnered no reaction from both the battling parties. It took Gale briefly casting a Silence spell on the kobolds for them to realise that you and your companions were even in the kitchen. All inhuman senseless eyes turned to you as the creatures adjusted their stances, clearly seeing your group as a bigger threat than the baker and his wife.

“Right. Can somebody please tell me what is going on?” you motioned at the destruction.

“We give money for treatos!” kobolds screeched, each wanting to be the first to complain.

“One gold piece! It was not enough for all the buns that they demanded from us!” the baker protested loudly.

“You give no treatos, so we take treatos!”

“Oh, and just look at all the damage that you have done!” the baker’s wife lamented, wringing her hands and being quite understandably upset.

“Next time, you remember to give treatos. We give money!” the kobolds defended themselves, tongues flicking out of their mouths, shaking their scaly fists as they shouted about the great injustice that was committed against them.

“So how are you planning to defuse this one, darling?” Astarion leaned closer to you.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?”

“Very much.”

“Any chance you might want to contribute to the conversation?”

“When you are doing so splendidly? I don’t think so.”

The kobolds seemed to have decided that you were not on their side and started gathering whatever buns and cakes that were not destroyed. Their ammunition in their hands, they attacked in quick succession. Karlach and Gale were fortunately out of their range, but you and Astarion found yourself swiftly covered in jam, and cream, and sticky dough. Astarion roughly pulled you down behind an overturned table, the second barrage missing you by an inch as you dropped to the floor.

“Argh, just look at me! Will the horrors never cease!” Astarion flicked a flaky piece off his shoulder and into your face. “This is all your fault, you know! If only you did not have some kind of hero complex, we would have grabbed some cakes and been on our merry way. But noooo, we have to get involved!”

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, “how could I have known this would happen?”

“Rule of thumb, if you see people in trouble, you walk away!”

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“You have jam in your curls.”

The look of pure horror on Astarion’s handsome face was just the revenge you needed.

“Gale! Slow spell!” you commanded, hoping he could still hear you over the cacophony of shrieks and cries.

“On it!”

You heard the incantation and dared peek from behind the table. The kobolds were still on the offensive, but their movements were sluggish, as if the air thickened and they had to fight against it.

“This is your last warning, you little rat bastards! Either you stop this, or we are going to turn your asses to stone and sell you to Popper!”

“Popper? You tell Popper? No tell Popper!”

Apparently, you mentioning the kobold from the Circus of the Last Days did the trick, as he was the law and order when it came to their community in the city. You rubbing shoulders with Popper, the best and the greatest of them all, was reason enough for the kobolds to regret their actions, renounce their fiendish ways, promise to never set foot near the bakery, and hastily make their way out of the kitchen.

Finally, there was silence. Complete blessed silence. Beautiful silence that lasted for a grand total of ten seconds before it was broken.

“Oh, these horrible creatures, I thought they would never leave!” the baker’s wife wiped her eyes as she tried and failed to hold back tears, “However can we thank you?”

“Coin always works best,” Astarion chose that moment to speak up.

“What coin?” the plump woman bawled pitifully, “we didn’t have the chance to sell anything!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shot Astarion a look full of admonishment, “we were glad to help.”

“But of course we were,” Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “It was a pleasure to be of service,” he mocked and marched out of the room, muttering something derogatory under his breath.

The walk back to Elfsong was uncomfortable and silent. You were hungry, sticky and quite frankly not in the mood to entertain one of Astarion’s moods.

You knew that he was right, in a way. You didn’t have to help out everyone you came across on your journey. You could have looked the other way, turned a blind eye. But that wouldn’t be you. So, he would just have to deal with it!

You loved Astarion, faults and all. But if he berated you every time you chose to do a kind turn and made you feel small and stupid, then perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen to be in a relationship with you. Because you would do anything for Astarion, but you refused to change who you were on the off chance you would get a smidge of approval from him.

When you opened the door to your shared room at first there was complete silence. Everyone was trying and failing to keep a straight face as they looked at the damage done to you and Astarion.

“Oh, shut up!” Astarion shoved past Shadowheart, making sure to leave traces of cream and jam on her as he pushed her out of the way.

“I see you clearly fought a great, formidable foe today,” Lae’zel quipped sarcastically, “at least tell me that you were the victors.”

“Argh, so not in the mood to talk about it! Gale, could you do the talking, please? I just want to wash and sleep,” you grumbled and dropped your bow and arrows near the trunk. You could not wait to get out of your clothes and into a bath.

“Certainly, my friend,” Gale wanted to pat your shoulder, but then decided against it, not wanting to get whatever was on you onto himself.

It took several changes of water for you to scrub yourself clean. You were bone tired and prickly when you finally settled in, choosing to sleep alone rather than in the bed you and Astarion have been sharing pretty much ever since you started staying at Elfsong. You heard his annoyed huff from across the room and squeezed your eyes shut. If Astarion had a problem with your sleeping arrangements, he could shove his complaints in any orifice of his choosing. In spite of being worn out, it took hours of tossing and turning for you to finally drift off.

You were woken up by sunlight spilling into your eyes through the gap in the curtains. Rising and groggily rubbing your eyes, you noticed that your living quarters were empty, the others apparently deciding to let you sleep in and having gone out hours ago. You flopped back onto the bed and stretched out your sore muscles. Perhaps yesterday’s humiliating display was worth it if you were given the chance to have a lazy morning. But then you remembered your fight with Astarion, and your smile turned sour.

You heard the door open and shut as the subject of your musings came into the room. You quickly turned away and pretended to be resting, not really sure what to say to him. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge.

“Darling, I know that you are awake. Will you look at me, please? I come bearing treatos.”

And he did. He held a tray laden with butter buns, delicate little pastries, fruit tarts and an assortment of other mouthwatering, freshly baked delights.

“The baker sends his regards and says that you, as his favourite customer, can be assured to have a discount for life. So, dig in my sweet! I got you the coffee you like to go with it.”

You sat up and looked at your vampire, worrying your bottom lip with blunt teeth. Cautiously, as if not unsure whether you will accept the gesture, Astarion took your hand into his, bringing your fingers to his lips and kissing them gently.

“I think an apology is in order. I- I do get annoyed that you spend your energies on creatures who, quite frankly, don’t deserve you giving them a moment of your precious time. Someone odd and pathetic that you pick up on the roadside and decide their cause is worth fighting for.”

He put a cream puff onto a plate and handed it to you, long cool fingers brushing against yours. You took a tentative bite without breaking eye contact. It was lovely, not too sweet, delicious and flaky. Astarion brushed a speck off your lips with his thumb and cupped your cheek tenderly.

“But then I realised that at some point I too was an oddity that you chose not to leave behind. A creature who did not deserve your protection, just seeking to take advantage of your kind nature at the time. Recognising your worth and how truly wonderful you are as I got to know you.”

You felt something warm and pleasant bloom in your chest, Astarion’s words making your shoulders relax as you all but melted into his touch.

“So, no matter how aggravating you may be, and how you drive me up the wall with your selflessness, I do not want you to change. You are perfect in every way.”

And then you thew your arms around your vampire and kissed him, all the worries and troubles seeming insignificant as you got lost in each other’s touch. You felt Astarion release a shuddering breath against your lips as he deepened the kiss.

All was well in his world. You were his and he wanted you, faults and all. Even if that meant that he had to spend half the evening getting various foodstuffs out of his curls.

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