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yangcherie · 5 months

Text

bathing.

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

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

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

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

“Can you keep it – fucking quiet?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You hope so.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #gale x reader #halsin x reader #tavrem #as they say #this was fun to write #this was very lame actually #sorry but its been so so so long since ive written a fic much less published it

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twi-liight · 8 months

Note

Hi! I suffer from Baldur's Gate brainrot. I just stumbled upon your blog and love your writing! Could you do some Astarion, Gale and Karlach headcanons for taking care of Tav after they're badly injured in battle?

Reckless Attack ❣

Grieve, weep, and agonize over a corpse - but know that death is never final in Faerun. The burden of injuries will instead always be present: pain is eternal, no matter how numb. ❥ Astarion/Tav, Gale/Tav, Karlach/Tav. ❥ TW: Descriptive mentions of injuries and gore. ❥ Act 2 spoilers. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the reader/oc insert. Their real name is up to you!

An Absolutist cult has gathered deep in the bowels of the forests of Rivington. Nothing out of the ordinary... Other than the sheer numbers they possess, creating a dense population of Absolute extremists gathered in stone ruins.

Adventuring parties that dare to end their machinations perished slowly and painfully. Their corpses - what is left of them - are displayed pierced from the gnarled branches of the trees, where they bleed out on the forest ground.

Tav, Astarion, Gale, and Karlach had a plan: throw a barrel full of smoke bombs into the middle of the ruins, firebolt, and profit. Except things didn’t go according to plan (they never do). That barrel was supposed to be at their rendezvous point, but the cultists found it before they did and thought it a gift from their Goddess.

Trapped in hiding, Tav decided to do what they do best: attack.

A potent necromancy curse was successfully cast on Tav, negating any healing spells thrown their way.

Well.

Fuck.

ASTARION

"As always, you refuse to listen to me. And now look at you: a mess. What did I say about running afool to the vanguard?" Astarion does not wait for their response. “Don't do it. It is smarter to be in the shadows in this instance. And what did you do? Ran alone into a quarry of cultists with no sense of self-preservation!”

Anger, pure anger, is present in his voice, sharpening his typical melodic lilt into daggers. If he cared about the present company - Shadowheart, Halsin, and Gale crowded into a tent, surrounding Tav upon their cot - it is nonexistent in his wine-red eyes. They could get lost in those bloody depths for hours. But not now. Not when seething rage roils off of his body like a cloud of darkness.

They look away.

"Nothing to say for yourself, darling?” he mocks. Astarion’s visage twists into a sneer, sharply turning his face away from them. He finds an unused rag, wets it, wrings it of excess water, and then moves past Shadowheart. “Allow me,” he murmurs to her, gentler.

Shadowheart’s inquisitive green eyes understand the depth of the situation immediately. She sighs, clearly annoyed he has taken over her job, but is dissuaded by Astarion’s next string of words: “I’ll clean them up. Magic and healing and all that wonderful nonsense are not necessarily my area of expertise. A firebolt here and there, surely, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with a curse that... Negates healing magic.”

“Sure,” Shadowheart replies, eyes flicking to Tav. Worry is evident over her features. Worry hangs heavy around everyone. Emerging out of battles victorious and grievously injured is commonplace; nothing a mass healing word couldn't fix along with a good night’s rest. Open wounds would be closed scars, ailments would be cured, and broken bones would be unbroken. Rinse and repeat.

This time, it is different.

They, and they alone, were cursed with a necromancy spell that makes all healing magic useless to their wounds.

Their wounds are appalling: Broken ribs evident with the pain swelling in their chest and labored breathing, purple and black blotchy bruises from the hammer blows they took to the shoulder, an open laceration across their chest, their ankle snapped in two, burns on their left leg crawling up their thigh. Blood all over their face from their own and from the enemies they felled.

“Hey, it’s fine,” they wheeze out. "Nothing I can't handle. The cultists are down and dead and buried - everything else can come after."

Hesitantly, Gale opens his mouth to reply, but is abruptly cut off by Astarion snapping out: "No."

"No," they echo. Their brows furrow.

"What a saint you are," Astarion snarls. His lips are down-turned, fangs bared as he speaks, but his ministrations upon their face are soothing. Gently, he rubs off the blood with a cool washcloth, eyes focusing on the task at hand as he cannot bear to look at them.

"Throwing yourself into the heat of battle like that, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Tell me, my dear, do you enjoy watching rational fly past you when you make your impulsive decisions?"

They flush with humiliation and hurt. Broken and battered, they dig their elbow into the cot to prop themselves up and face Astarion head-on, but Halsin presses a hand into their shoulder and pushes them down.

Fuck. Their head spins in circles.

"You're one to talk. Impulsivity is your middle name; you said yourself that planning is not your forte." Even raising their voice hurts but they do it anyway. Their eyes, threatening to slip into oblivion, flood with frustrated tears. "What the fuck is your problem, Astarion?"

"Must I really spell it out for you, sweetheart? You go around, telling everyone exactly what they need to hear. You tell them they aren't alone. That you will help them, that you will ensure they see the future that they want." The words are venom: petty and spiteful and yearning to be understood. "You," Astarion hisses out, "are so blind."

Tempers rising to fever pitch, Halsin tenses from his spot at the foot of the cot. From the corner of Tav's eye, they see Gale murmur something to him, something like, Let this play out. Astarion would never hurt them.

"I am the only one who will take the first step!" Tav cries. The words explode out of their broken chest faster than they realize, flying like an arrow straight toward Astarion's unbeating heart. "I risk my life - every day - for all of YOU! For all the people that need me! For all that I am because-"

"Because what?" He taunts. "Because it is the right thing to do? Look at yourself, Tav! You are on death's door if not for everyone in this room!"

"Because no one else will do it! Not anyone in this damn camp cares enough to- to help the people we could-" They cough violently, but they slam their elbows into the cot to prop themselves up. No one stops them this time as they meet Astarion's burning eyes. "No one cares but ME-"

"WE care about you!" Louder. Vicious. Astarion's voice splits in the air in two in one fell swoop, striking them down like lightning into silence.

He's breathing heavily, panting, as if exhausted. The adrenaline pumping in his veins is begging him to swoop Tav up and run away with them. Away from all of this bullshit and into hiding within the shadows. Maybe the Underdark. Maybe the Shadowcursed Lands. They can descend into madness together.

At least there, they will be safe.

"I care about you," Astarion chokes out before he can stop himself. "More than anything. Do you know that? I hope you know that."

Their mouth forms the words to reply, Of course I do, but it doesn't leave their throat. Instead, it stays stuck there like a fluttering butterfly, forced into silence. It hurts to speak. It hurts to talk. It hurts to see him like this.

He calls out their name so quietly it could have been a trick of the wind.

"Astarion," they plead.

He shakes his head, stubborn and unconvinced. "You don't owe these people anything. You certainly do not owe them your life for their burdens. I," he breathes out, voice as shaky as a leaf in the wind. He screws his eyes shut and clenches his fist around the rag, where their blood stains his palm.

"I almost lost the sun of my life today."

When Astarion opens his eyes, they are steeled with resilience and fury as they gaze into theirs. It is hypnotic. It is lonely. They yearn to comfort him.

"It will not happen again."

GALE

"Easy," Gale murmurs, a strong arm laying them down in his tent. Soft blankets and pillows meet their back, and the cushy grass beneath makes for a cool and comforting sleep. Their breath stutters, but Gale gazes at them so fondly as he pushes their hair from their face that the pain eases.

He does not miss their labored breathing. "Shhh shh shh. I've got you. Just focus on me."

His thumb lingers on the swell of their cheek. His eyes flutter close. A gentle glow of purple surrounds him, and eventually, that gentleness extends to Tav. The agonizing, piercing sensation in their chest numbs into a cool, muted nothingness. They gasp - then exhale in relief, slower than their panicky, short breaths from before.

"That's it," he encourages. "Well done, my love. How are you feeling?"

"So-so," they reply. Their voice aches and croaks, but for some reason, it makes Gale smile.

Oh no. He knows that look.

They study his handsome, tired face, looking for any signs of alarm. Is he hungry? Does he need to feed on another artefact? Was there an envoy telling them they missed another Absolutist hideout? Did they miss something? Did they do something wrong?

No. Nope. "Enough of that." He takes their hand, kisses their knuckles, then sighs. "You're the last person who should be worrying about someone. Such a pest, hm? Always buzzing around me like I'm seconds away from disappearing in front of your eyes..."

"You are," they say. Their brows furrow, and they pant out, "The-- your burden to carry, the--"

"The orb, I know. I know." His heart twists. It aches. He failed Mystra before and that was painful. But this is another subject entirely; it couldn't come close. Watching sheer heartbreak in their expression because of him? Oh, Goddess forgive him, he has failed them.

Gale can scarcely celebrate his victory, too. He undid the damned curse that affected Tav's ability to receive magic. The necromancy spell was so potent that Tav rejected any healing spells thrown at them. Late into the hours of experimentation, he, Halsin, and Shadowheart considered allowing the effects to wither and die rather than exterminating it outright. It was Jaheira who told them it would be inefficient, because how long would they have to wait in camp while Tav rode out the effects of the curse? Ideally? Hours. But days? Weeks? Months?

He spent the long night following and feeling out the curse with the Weave. It was a complicated hex - a tangled knot of magic that had to be unwoven carefully, thread by thread. Every connotation, every intent was traced back to the heart of the curse, and he followed it with abandon.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble, then," they whisper.

"You should be," he jests. "Nearly made my heart collapse, seeing you like that."

The image is still burned into his mind. He can't stop thinking about it. His mortality has always been a dreadful afterthought pushed into the further recesses of his tadpole-addled brain, but was he so taken with Tav that he never realized how mortal they were, too?

No. No. Gale tightens his grip on their hand, giving them a comforting squeeze as they breathe in and out, in and out. It's not that he never realized how susceptible they are to death and danger. He just never wanted to confront it.

"You are changing the very premise of my life," he says softly. An exasperated chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head, adding, "as always. I don't know what I would have done if I actually lost you, back there." What wouldn't I do? "No scrolls of revivifies, no Withers to bring you back. I wouldn't be able to accept it."

He understands Ketheric Thorm all too well, now.

"Come here," they whisper. Gale lets their hands press into the back of his head. He thinks, absently, that he would let them do much of anything. In their care, he is no grand wizard with a plethora of achievements under his belt. No. He is as humble as the Weave itself, and their hands compose music and art for him to simply bear witness to.

They rest his head upon their chest, where his ear can listen to the comforting sound of their beating heart.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud thud.

"Good night, my love," Gale says, when their breathing evens and they have finally fallen into peaceful slumber. He does not sleep at all.

KARLACH

"Oh gods. Oh gods!" Karlach clasps Tav's left hand between hers, holding tightly and vowing to never let go. Their blood stains her hand and chest and clothes. It's everywhere. Sickly sweet and sticky, drawing all of her attention from the room to the sensation of it dripping down her skin.

They've lost so much blood. It's nauseating, like an unsettling reality has just settled in her stomach.

"Tav!" She exclaims, helpless and pathetic. "Why did you do that, you big idiot? You seriously could have gotten killed out there, why-- why aren't you..."

Responding? Where are their quips, their sass, their brightness she fell so fast and hard for? Tav lays there upon the cot, broken and battered. Karlach has seen the remains of her enemies after she has slaughtered them and has barely flinched. She can barely stomach the sight of them bloodied, bones twisted in the wrong way, bruises so purple they're as black as a chasm.

All they can do is breathe. Their eyes focus distantly above them to the roof of the tent, but nothing else.

Panic seizes her faster than she can control it. "Are they breathing?! Are they going to survive this?! Fuck," she growls, running a frustrated hand through her dark hair, matted with blood. "I should have made those sons of bitches suffer."

"Karlach," Shadowheart says, firm but gentle, her hands bloody too as she applied pressure down on Tav's wounds, "it was important that you returned them to camp as fast as you did. Sometimes, we do not have the luxuries to let our enemies die in pain."

Right. Right. Karlach watched an Absolutist barbarian slam his warhammer into Tav's back. Once to knock them down. Twice to keep them plastered on the ground. Once more to keep them unconscious. She saw red, then: the rage she slipped into boiled her veins so hot, the howl she let out sent her surroundings enemies into a frightened frenzy. She hacked her great axe into the barbarian over and over and over until he was nothing but a bloodied pulp of a man, more gore than flesh.

She scooped Tav up from the ground. Karlach never let anyone else touch them. She snarled and snapped at the others who tried to come too close and dead sprinted as fast as she could back to camp.

She heard their choked sobs of pain in her arms. They choked out her name, and Karlach couldn't offer them much of anything other than an, "We're going home, bubs, just hang on. 'Kay? You just focus on me."

"Can I stay here?" She begs Shadowheart. "I won't get in the way. Just let me hold their hand, please."

Shadowheart exchanges a conflicted glance at Halsin. He nods, and she sighs. "Fine," she says. "But - I need you to stand to the side for now. You can hold their hand after we're done figuring out how to undo this curse."

"A fine specimen of a curse, really," Gale adds, his hand curled under his chin. "I'm almost impressed."

"I would be too," huffs Shadowheart, "if our reckless leader wasn't caught up in this mess. Really, what were you thinking?"

"Right?" Karlach shoves off into the corner of the tent, doing her best to keep herself as small and as out-of-the-way as possible. Tears flood her eyes, and she chokes out, "Of all the things to do, why did it have to be that? I thought you said you trusted me! To have your back! I have your back, don't I? Don't I?"

"Of course you do," Halsin croons. He hooks his finger into a bottle of salve, and spreads it on Tav's burns. Tav visibly winces and tenses, whimpering in pain.

"Stop whatever you're doing right now!" Karlach wails. "You're hurting them! I'll kill you, Halsin, I swear it!"

Gale exchanges a look with Shadowheart. He ponders deeply for a moment as Karlach sobs devastatingly behind them. He opens his mouth, then shuts it promptly.

"Just say it," Shadowheart urges impatiently.

"We should play a game," he suggests. "The quiet game."

"No way," Karlach hiccups. "I'm dogshit at that game. Anyway, focus on Tav or I'll gut you, seriously."

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion #astarion x tav #gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x you #karlach x tav #shadowheart #halsin #halsin is always just there. like. yeah ok guys. whatever

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angelltheninth · 3 months

Text

Your and Astarion's Son Gets His Babyfangs

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, domestic fluff, nose boop, kissing, family fluff, Astarion is a good dad

A/N: Written for @animeopal66! I should write more fluffy family fics. I gotta get some more ideas.

Your son has been really fussy for the past week and neither you or Astarion could figure out why that was. He got all his needed hours of sleep, he always had his toys at hand, both you and Astarion spent time with him, played with him and always came running when he cried and he wasn't hungry either. In fact you were feeding him right now.

He was a little sleepy but you held him against your chest while Astarion waited, watching you both with a dreamy look. There was a time, a long time that he never thought he would have a family of any kind, much less both a wife and a son.

"Maybe he's a little drama queen like his dad." You only half joked when you said that.

"Me? A drama queen? That hurts to hear darling." Astarion reached over the table and booped you on the nose. His finger was slightly cold, but you noticed that your son's temperature was more like your own.

His ears however were like Astarion's, so was his hair. His eyes though? Your color, which according to your husband was a much better outcome, he liked your eyes.

You couldn't lean over to kiss him unfortunately but you could blow him an air kiss, "You know you're a- ouch!" You looked down to your son, he was still latching onto your breast like nothing was wrong.

"What's wrong?!" Astarion nearly jumped from his chair in alarm.

"He bit me." You pouted before realizing what that mean, "Astarion, he bit me. Hold on." As soon as you pushed your son away from the source of his food he got fussy and teary eyed, which was to be expected. "Shhh, it's okay little guy. Your dad and I want to check for something."

"Let me see, let me see. Has he already-?" Astarion knelt down and tilted his son's head up, his eyes widening with happiness when he saw the smallest fangs. "Oh my gods! So cute!" Your husband nearly started crying. Yup, drama queen.

Okay, not so much because you were on the verge of tears too. "I guess that explains his fussiness lately. You're growing up so fast." You cupped your son's cheek and kissed the other, making him giggle since the two of you were now giggling. "Astarion, we're not trying for another one, stop looking at me like that."

"Looking at you like what? I'm just so happy to have you two in my life." Astarion kissed you quickly, deliberately sounding out the 'mwah' which made your son giggle even more.

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #astarion fluff #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x you #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate fanfiction #astarion x female reader #baldur's gate x female reader #bg3 x female reader #fluff drabble #fluff blurb

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cammys-imagines24 · 7 months

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°•Astarion Being Touch Starved•°

The dastardly rogue would scarcely ever admit it- not in a thousand years.

But the sensation of your touch sends a thrill through his heart so loud, so potent, that sometimes he swears it still beats.

Beats only for you.

Sure by the light of day Astarion has a devil may care attitude and more sass than anyone really ought to.

And though you've both voiced your sincere affections to each other, he is never shy to continue with his playful flirtations towards you.

But that does not mean he views your relationship as a trifle. As something to play at.

You are the first person he's cared for in hundreds of years. The first he's opened himself up to. The first to show him that he can be free.

And with that long sought after freedom he wishes to spend it with you. For as long as you'll allow him the gift of your presence.

But though Astarion is unshackled now, the hauntings of Cazador never leave his mind. Not entirely.

On more times than he'd like to acknowledge, he has awoken from horrid nightmares of his past enslavement.

Cursing himself for even bothering to close his eyes in the first place considering he doesn't actually need to sleep.

But then there you are, right beside him.

Warm and vulnerable. Slumbering soundly and oh, gods, does he love your warmth.

The chilled Vampire would bathe in the heated feel of your skin if he could and often while you're tucked in the crook of his arm, dreaming away, he takes small liberties.

Letting just how starved he is of gentleness be shown.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing the column of your throat, breathing in your scent.

Admiring your beauty. Committing each freckle, scar and feature to memory.

Dining on the feel of your form close to his and relishing in the company of one who truly, faithfully loves him. Just as he is.

So reverential of your body. Savoring the perfume of your blood, the thump of your heartbeat. Your every breath a hymn to his ears.

Of course you know how starved Astarion is. You can read him like a book.

But his yearning for tenderness is an unspoken truth between you two.

So you attend to it in your own subtle way.

Holding hands with him while around camp. Sitting next to him beside the fire. Your thighs touching. Placing your hand between his shoulder blades while walking.

Your gaze never straying from his for too long. Your medicinal touch the one to mend his wounds after a rough fight.

He thinks of you as a goddess. Your warmth a healing balm and he thanks his lucky stars everyday he met you.

The feel of you beside him is enough to make him enjoy living again.

Astarion's love for you eternal and ever growing.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x reader #astarion imagines #astarion imagine #astarion headcanons #astarion headcanon #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 imagine #baldur's gate 3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 fic

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unluckiestmember · 4 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Astarion Ancunin, Shadowheart, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, Lae'zel, Wyll Ravengard, Karlach and Halsin

Tags: friends to lovers, acquittances to lovers, in denial, overprotective, fluff, indirect kisses, Gale being Gale, fake love (until it's not), established relationship and innocence.

Warning: SFW. Light suggestive themes.

A/N: Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. No, I'm still in a chokehold-

Astarion Ancunin

“Well aren’t you just the cutest thing ever? I could just eat you right up, darling~.”

When he first met you, Astarion knew you were an easy target. A nice meal he could exploit, especially if you’re a virgin, and a great pawn for the road ahead. He would deliver sweet nothings to you in hopes of sleeping in your bed and drinking from the pure blood that coursed through your veins. But as time continued, as you showed how sweet you were, the pale elf found himself genuinely falling for you.

He wanted to protect you from the world around both of you and bite anyone who tried to hurt you. He’d even hesitate on feeding from you out of fear he’d hurt you or expose himself to your pained gasps. You were his precious jewel he couldn’t afford to be taken from him or tainted in any way. With everyone else, he’s still a flirtatious and snarky vampire spawn. But around you, he will always be a sweet man who wants to make sure you’re okay. His princess… That being said, don’t expect him to stop flirting with you. He adores when you get flustered.

Shadowheart

“Stand behind me! I don’t want you to get hurt! Just do as I say, okay?!”

At first Shadowheart thought you weren’t real. That there was no way in the nine hells that there was someone as pure as you. She genuinely thought your personality was a charade. So she watched you carefully, waiting for you to show your true colors in the form of berating someone or betraying one of the campers. But you never did. You always stayed true to yourself.

When she realized that you were probably the most modest person in your motley crew, the Shar Worshipper became attracted to you. She spent more time with you and suddenly felt like she needed to take care of you along your adventure together. Similar to Astarion, Shadowheart tries to be ever so gentle with you, never using pain in bed and out of bed unless you approve of her actions when she asks for permission. It’s evident to everyone she cares deeply for you and wouldn’t mind spending her life with you.

Gale Dekarios

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen the embodiment of happiness. Who knew I would find that in you?”

You had Gale’s heart as soon as you said hi to him. It didn’t take long for this man to turn into putty around you nor to become friends with you. And he fell in love when you always gave him magical objects without hesitation. Asking him if he’s alright and stroking his head after he eats his weave? He was swooned. The closer you two became, the more the wizard would share his life with you like an open book and offer any kind of lesson in magic to you.

It didn’t take long for him to admit he had romantic feelings for you, leading to you to become a couple. At camp, he is a gentleman, always asking if you need anything in between kisses to your cheek and becoming bashful with you when you bless his ears with your giggles. Outside of camp, he’s focused on you, making sure no one lays a finger or spell on that cute head of yours. You bring the best out of Gale and make him the happiest man in all of the realms.

Lae’zel

“G’lyck. If you’re hurt, then go to the ghustil… Hurry up or I’ll drag you to her myself.”

You were a liability to Lae’zel. Always getting hurt? Never killing your enemies? Checking up on everyone over yourself? She wanted nothing more than to throw you to the wolves so you wouldn’t ruin the group’s odds of survival. She hated you with a flaming passion. She hated how you always asked if she was okay. How you always treated her wounds after a battle and dare to kiss her injuries better. How you cowered behind her during combat.. And especially how you made her heart flutter when you slept across from her by the campfire, watching your cute face in a state of peace…

If it was up to her, she’d kick you out of the camp for what you’ve done to her. She swears it. But for now? She guesses she’ll keep you around for a little longer. Besides, she knows without her you’d die out there. You need her and she needs you.

Wyll Ravengard

“Don’t fret now, I won’t let them lay a finger on you, not when the Blade of Frontiers is right by your side.”

Wyll always wanted to have a romance like fairy tales. Save a fair princess or prince from their troubles like a knight in shining armor while slaying dragons. To meet someone who was the sweetest thing alive and experience real happiness with them by his side. So when he met you, you can bet he felt like he won the jackpot! He found your bashful nature and careless personality to be a breath of fresh air, especially when he was punished by Mizora.

At first you were a great friend, but when you took care of him, polished his horns and always checked if he was alright after fights, true love sprung between you two. It didn’t take long for him to confess his feelings to you and take your hand as your boyfriend. From that day forward, he’s been your savior on and off the battlefield when he wasn’t your sweet lover that showered you in compliments and kisses. You are positive that with Wyll you are bound to have a happily ever after.

Karlach

“Aww, you’re so adorable I just wanna squish your cheeks and hug you forever!... I can?! Well, come here, you!”

It was love at first sight between you and Karlach. After you splashed her with water and made sure she was okay, the barbarian’s heart was in your hands. She was so used to meeting backstabbers, manipulators and liars that she wasn’t sure there were any good people left. But you proved her wrong and she was so happy you did. Because of you, she made it her sole mission to get infernal iron so she could touch you.

When she couldn’t, she would share indirect kisses with you using rocks and even gift you her teddy bear Clive when you couldn’t hold her. And when she finally was able to touch you, she held you as if her life depended on it. There isn’t a moment where you two are not touching in and out of camp. You make her feel alive again in more ways than one and to her you are her soulmate. She loves you so much and will do anything to make sure you know that.

Halsin

“If you were a part of nature’s divine design, then you are a pure ray of sunshine given by the Oak Father.”

Halsin immediately gave you his trust and respect when you saved him without a reason to. It didn’t help that he also found you to be adorable with how nervous you got around him and how you stuttered a bit. With how you were, the druid quickly grew an interest in you, wanting to be beside you and feel your skin against his. He loved how you were so considerate when he wild shaped, petting his head and playing with him effortlessly.

In the wilderness, you were something like his mate, always protected by foes and checked for injuries. If there were any, he would bandage them as quickly as he could and carry you the rest of the way back to camp. When everything was settled, he’d immediately cuddle you as himself or as a bear. You were perfect in every way to him and for that, he would be your sole protector no matter what.

If you got any requests for Baldur's Gate 3, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

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blacknight1230 · 5 months

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Ways in which I think Tav shows Astarion love: (SFW)

*Tav is gender-neutral*

Gentle touches to the face.

Cue Tav walking up to Astarion in camp; Astarion greets them with his usual flirtatious greeting and a smirk, asking them if they need anything. Tav just raises their hand and gently brush a loose strand of his hair out of his face and cups his cheek, telling the vampire how they just wanted to see how he was doing.

Astarion is caught off guard, not used to intimate physical touch, ones that don't come with him eventually bedding the other person.

But he relaxes into it, enjoying the warmth of Tav's roughened palm. "I'll alright, now that you are here," he purred.

Hugs, feeling the way Tav wraps their arms securely around his torso.

Since his confession, Tav would occasionally come up to him and ask if they could hug him, always mindful of his consent.

At first, he had no idea as to what to do with his hands when wrapped up in his lover's embrace, uncomfortably stiff. But Tav gently guided his hands to the cusp of their lower back. If Tav is taller than Astarion, they cup the back of his head and leads him to lay it on the top of their chest, right where there heart is. If Tav is smaller, they cradle his face into the side of their neck, chin on their shoulder. Soon, Astarion would need no motivation to snuggle into his lover's chest/neck.

He secretly enjoys Tav's back hugs the best, once he is comfortable enough to let them to approach him from behind. Tav laying their chin on his shoulder and sneaking a cheek kiss if they are taller, or snuggling their face into the back of his armor/shirt with a smile ... It brings a love-sick genuine smile to his pale lips.

Trailing touches along his arms.

Tav usually does this to let him know they are coming up alongside them without causing the vampire to flitch back at their unexpected movement. He likes it even more when he's in his camp clothes and his shirt sleeves are rolled up, allowing him to feel the lingering warmth of their fingers on his cold skin.

Laying beside each other on his and their bedrolls.

They don't even have to say anything, just the two of them staring at each other, memorizing the little details of their faces. Astarion enjoys when Tav runs a finger across his cheekbone and jaw, playfully biting at it as the digit trails over his lips. His favorite feature of Tav's at times like this are their eyes. He can see the affection and love in their eyes as they look at him. It almost makes his undead heart start beating again.

Sleepy cuddles.

Most of the time he's the small spoon, either with his head directly on their chest, their heart beat lulling him into a trance, wrapped up in Tav's warm arms and legs tangled together. Sometimes it's the other way around, with Tav snuggled into the crook of his arm, leg thrown over his and hand on his chest, one of his hands on their lower back. Cuddle sessions tend to happen after a feeding session, even before his confession in Act 2. It eventually starts to become a nightly routine, even if no feeding is involved.

"I like it when you stay with me. I feel safe with you," Tav told him one time when Astarion questioned them on it. Astarion swears he could hear his undead heart beating again.

Tav's fingers running through his hair.

This of course tended to happen when they had their nightly cuddle sessions and during the act of feeding. When feeding, the feeling on Tav's fingers in his hair would ground him as he gave into his sanguine desire, reminding him to not take too much. When cuddling, Tav's fingers served to relax him as the motion of their fingers gently racking across his scalp lulled him into a trance. The act also filled his chest with warmth, which he finally realized was love and admiration after he confessed to Tav.

Waking up next to Tav.

This tends to happen after a feeding session and the subsequent cuddle session (after the confession in Act 2). In the morning, he's either wrapped around Tav with his head buried into the valley of their neck, slowly breathing in their signature scent (not just their blood, but the natural scent on their skin), or he's encased in Tav's arms with his head buried in their chest as they cradle him close. Astarion wants nothing more than to stay in their shared tent together like that all day, but sadly they have to separate or else they will never get those tadpoles out of their heads.

Feeling safe whenever he decides to sleep with no shirt and bare his scars.

The raised flesh on his back where his master carved his sadistic poem - which he then learned was part of an infernal contact that he was going to be sacrificed for - was by far the most traumatic and cruelest torture Cazador inflicted upon him. The slightest touch on his scars would cause him to flinch away and he refused to let anyone touch him there. Taking off his shirt, even in the confines of his own tent, was out of the question.

But with you, he craved the feeling of your fingers trailing shapeless figures on his bare chest, not just over his sleep shirt. He wanted to feel the warmth of your fingers to heat up his cold pale skin over his heart, almost as if it would seep deep into the organ.

When Astarion decided he could lay himself bare to you (figuratively speaking in this sense), he was practically shaking, desperately trying to calm his nerves as Tav slowly brought a steady hand to the spot above his heart. He didn't flitch at the first contact, sighing in content as Tav continued their ministrations.

After this first step, Astarion found that this act played into their cuddle sessions, usually right before Astarion and Tav start their day or before they feel asleep, regardless of a nightly feeding session.

Slowly letting Tav touch his scars.

This would probably take years for him to do, but luckily the both of them have time after the end of Act 3.

It would start with allowing Tav to gently caress the upper edges of his scars closest to his neck and by the small of his back closest to his hips.

For the longest time, that's all he could handle without him having flashbacks to the time they were created and cowering away from Tav's touch.

But Tav understood; they never pressured him nor did they expect to fully being to fully touch his scars. They were content with just skimming lightly across the back of his hip, tracing the spot where his neck met his back. If this is all they were allowed to do, then so be it. They would never push Astarion's boundaries and verbally told him to tell them if they accidently did.

Reading together in silence.

When not off adventuring, Astarion could be found rustling through whatever book he had on hand. Tav noticed this and decided early on to spend some of their downtime to read something quietly alongside him. Astarion teased them about this at first, saying something about how desperate they were to be in his company. As their relationship blossomed, this act continued, with Astarion sitting on a stool scraped up from an abandoned location, book in hand, while Tav lounged against the vampire's pile of pillows outside his tent, a nameless tome also in hand. When this started to become a frequent thing, Astarion frequently caught himself peering over at Tav from the top of his book, silently watching as their eyes skimmed at the runes on the page, the way a finger was used to hold their place in their reading, mind focused on the story in front of them. Astarion liked the sight of them this relaxed and their quiet presenance. After the end of their adventure, when the two decided to remain together, this act becomes a staple way they spend their quality time together. In a townhouse in Baldur's Gate, the two of them could be seen reading quietly next to each other, cuddled in each others arms as a fire rages in the main room's fireplace.

Playing with his fingers and hands.

Whenever they are bored, whether they be at a tavern or listening to a mindless conversation, Tav ends up gently playing with Astarion's hand as it sits idle. Astarion raised an eyebrow the first time he noticed Tav doing this, in which they were silently comparing the sizes of their palms and digits. He never knew gentle touch before, so he was still learning the many different ways Tav show affection through harmless contact. Eventually, he gets used to it, paying absolutely no mind as Tav takes his hand and starts trailing along the roughed fingertips or caressing his knuckles. He finds it comforting, the act silently letting him known that his lover was there for him. He finds it especially humorous when they decide to take a playful nip at his digits, an amused smile on his lips as he jokes "Don't make me return the favor," and returns with a peck on their mouth

Brushing of fingers as they walk side by side (mainly when in the city).

The city of Baldur's Gate was quite populated, making their usually close-quartered party have to repeatedly be cautious as they tried to make their ways through the crowded streets without losing a party member as they occasionally get cut off by passersby.

Astarion was edge the moment they got closed to the city walls, even more so once they made it to the Lower City. He was Cazador's territory now and though he and his spawn could not go out in the daylight, there were other minions of the vampire lord that could be hiding in the busy streets.

The numerous Baldurians constantly impeding their groups way did nothing to help this, as it meant someone usually was temporarily separated from the others and was lagging behind before they could meet back up with the group. Astarion tried to keep a constant eye on Tav, but sometimes they too got swept up in the crowds.

Tav didn't like this either as they too grew slightly worried whenever they lost sight of Astarion as they tried to file through numerous crowds, wanting to keep an eye on the vampire spawn as they drew nearer to his master's residence.

So, whenever they were near each other, Tav made it a routine to gently brush their fingers against Astarion's knuckles to let them know they were beside them, regardless if he could see them or not.

The gentle carassess acted as a soothing balm, calming his heart as he felt the briefest warmth of their fingers on his skin. Sometime he longed to outright take a hold of their hand, but he knew they both needed their hands free in case they were attacked. But he knew one day, after this adventure was over, he would be able to do hold their hand in his as they trail downt eh numerous pathways the city harbors without a care in world, safe from vampire lords and death cults alike.

Cleaning his face after a tough battle.

This man gets dirty after a battle. Blame it on being a vampire or him being a dastardly rogue with a penchant for daggers, but his face is usually covered in blood. Astarion usually just washed his face himself, after sampling a couple of drops onto his tongue, but after their little deed at the tiefling party, Tav has come up to him with a wet rag or sponge to gently wipe away the grim once they made it make to camp. "Here, let me do it for you," they would say. Astarion would try to argue with them, flirtatious jokes and compliments coming out of his mouth, but Tav wouldn't hear it. "Just let me do something nice for you. And how else do you expect to get everything without using a mirror?" Astarion shut up after their little mirror comment, knowing they were right. Also, this nice act being performed on him without expecting some form of repayment? Impossible, surely you want something from him. Yet, it kept happening, again and again, without Astarion having to repay this kindness by sleeping with Tav. And a part of him secretly enjoyed the way the cool rag or sponge gently wiped away the grime on his brow, the scent of berand rosemary filling his lungs as he breathed the mixture of scented oils on the rag/sponge. Though, he would let them know it, until he confessed to them once he realized his true feelings. Then he return the favor, along with peppering Tav's face with numerous kisses to boot.

Words of affirmation, specifically complimenting him on other things than beside his looks.

As he spent nearly 200 years using his good looks and body to seduce victims to bring back to Cazador, the last thing Astarion wants to be reminded of is how handsome he is. He's sick and tired of being seen as nothing but just a pretty face, even if he flaunts his looks to get what he wants. It's more of a bad habit, knowing nothing else but than to manipulate to secure safety. With Tav, they try to remind him that he is more than this, hence the constant affirmations and complements.

For example, his embroidery skills. He's constantly patching up his clothing and once him and Tav officially become a couple, it is likely he starts doing the same for their clothing. Tav gushes over his fine craftsmanship, whether he's embroidering a complex design or just hemming a tear in one of their lounge wears.

Other skills of Astarion that Tav constantly fonds over: his locksmanship ability; his journey to becoming a better man; his soft spot for children and pets; his sass and dark humor; his exceptionally good taste in wine; his genuine laughter and little giggles. This man is usually left speechless at Tav's words, unable to do nothing but leave a flurry of kisses across their face as a soft smile graces his lips.

In all these ways, Astarion has been "I love you" without hearing those 3 magic words from Tav. But it's all he ever need.

#astarion #astarion imagine #astarion fluff #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 imagine #astarion smut #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate iii x reader #baldur's gate iii imagine #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate iii

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easy-there-leftovers · 7 months

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I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine.

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work.

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying.

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him.

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty.

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation.

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything.

Strange.

What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response.

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you.

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot.

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?”

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4.

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise.

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine.

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence.

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider.

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?”

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x you #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #to be continued #or maybe not lol #I haven't written anything in so long #and for good reason #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader

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blue-sadie · 5 months

Text

Size Difference

Imagine:

Being halsins mate and he loves to loom over you and taunt you with the size difference between you and him but he loves it, laughing when you struggle to take all of him and it slowly makes him insane.

"That's it my love your almost half way down, come on keep going, fuck your gonna look so good with your stomach bulging just with the size of me"

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finn-writes-stuff · 6 months

Note

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Halsin, Wyll, and Gortash with touch starved gn s/o?

A Soft Touch

Adventuring to save the world leaves little time for comfort. Yet they provide it anyway.

Gale, Halsin, Wyll & Gortash x Reader

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

My first bg3 work! Apologies if I don't have their characterization just right yet. - Finn

Gale

You're both so incredibly touch-starved. He has only had the company of his cat ever since he locked himself up in his tower.

He's terribly gentle when he does touch you. As if he expects you to disappear if he grabs you too tight. As if one of you might just shatter.

It's easier for him to touch you through magic. Encounters in the weave, mage hand, anything of the like. It allows him to touch you without feeling so overwhelmed with it.

But once he truly starts touching you regularly, he can't get enough. He'll have you in his arms while he reads, or he'll lay on your lap and speak of magical innovations.

He drinks you in like the magic he needs to live. Knowing that his touch is providing some benefit for you makes him content and satisfied. Gale lives to make you happy and see you smile.

Halsin

Gods, this man gives the most incredible hugs. The only one who compares is Karlach. He's warm and soft and strong and he holds you as though he would never let anything hurt you.

He's quite a tactile person in general. His hand is regularly on your shoulder when he points something out or asks your opinions. If you're comfortable with it, his hand will rest on the small of your back when he walks with you. He likes keeping the point of combat.

Fall asleep in his arms, on his chest. You will never sleep better than this. It will ruin you for any bed ever.

He's quite careful about boundaries. If you are overwhelmed by him touching you so much, he will tone it down and keep it at your pace.

Alternatively, if it's not enough for you, he's always ready to offer a full body massage.

Wyll

Literal king of romance. He is determined to court you properly. His touch always feels like it has intention and awareness to it.

Loves to kiss your knuckles and make eye contact as he does. It feels ridiculously intimate for just a kiss on the hand.

Wyll traces the lines and curves of your face while you relax with him, admiring you and memorizing your features.

Having you close, whether in an embrace or a dance, settles him. He keeps you close as much as you allow it.

If you ask him to hold you, he will stop nearly whatever he is doing in order to do so. Lae'zel makes fun of him for pausing his sparring for it.

Gortash

Oh if he had it his way (And he rarely tolerates anything less), you would never leave his side. You being touch-starved just gives him all the more reason to keep you there.

Enver is possessive in the way he holds you. He will have a portrait commissioned of the two of you with his gauntleted hand settled firmly on your hip.

He's inevitably touch-starved himself, but he's unlikely to admit this. Just allow him to hold you when you fall asleep or he'll be frustrated with everyone in the morning.

Gortash has the ability to pamper you and he takes advantage of it. He'd have you bathe with him in a bath full of expensive soaps and he'll wash your hair. He will also be ridiculously smug for as long as you smell like him afterwards.

#finnwrites #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #headcanons #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #halsin x reader #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #gortash x reader #enver gortash x reader

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donat-senpai · 6 months

Text

Everyone in the camp is ready to fight for the right to go to bed next to you. Hugging your warm body in sleep and listening to your breath. They have fights every damn night. You're so tired of all of them. You just fall asleep, cuddling comfortably with the Owlbear and Scratch while the idiots quarrel

#yandere x reader #yandere bg3 #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion x reader #gale x reader #wyll x reader #halsin x reader #shadowheart x reader #lae’zel x reader #karlach x reader

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twi-liight · 8 months

Text

Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!”

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks.

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.”

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.”

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate.

“Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm.

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!”

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words.

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips.

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?”

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.”

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds, “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.”

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.”

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?”

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.”

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something.

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?”

Yes. They all nod their heads.

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.”

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.”

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.”

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind.

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting.

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined.

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.”

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone.

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke.

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.”

Excellent.

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!”

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.”

“Karlach!”

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.”

“Gale?!”

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!”

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x you #gale x reader #gale x you #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x you #lae'zel x reader #lae'zel x you #karlach x reader #karlach x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you #poor nilmorn. just wanted to sell his lil instruments. dies because he smiles too prettily

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witchysfics · 7 months

Text

Paint me

author's note : This is unedited.

Gale asks Tav to paint runes on him for a magical experiment. Fluff, and little bit risqué, if you squint.

The ink was slippery and cold as you plunged your fingers into its seemingly unending darkness. The substance quickly slid down your fingers has you hurriedly rushed over to your "canvas".

Gale sat in front of you, his back towards you. Top half bare so you may be able to paint the magic runes onto his skin. The muscles in his back stiffened ever so slightly as you made contact, beginning the first rune.

Gale had come to you for a favor, a rather.... intimate one, he described it. Your task was to paint magic runes onto his body so that he may better attune to the magic he wished to learn of. It seemed simple enough, you watched him these past days struggle with concentrating on spells in this particular study. He could use a little help it seemed.

Being a magic wielder yourself you were able to understand the concept, of course all of this was just theory, but who where you to turn away an opportunity to uncover more about the use of magic?

Maybe this magical body paint would work and you could use it more in the future. It could come in handy when you need to attune to spells without any notice to the individuals around you. Even small spells could be written onto skin and used as quick reactions against a foe.

Gale was quick to complain about the temperature of the ink as you dragged your finger along his shoulder blade. He shivered, peering over his shoulder at you, "Must it be so cold? Couldn't you have picked a different medium?" He whined, "One less.... frigid?"

You picked your eyes up from your work to look into his. He looked teasing, eyes squinted from the small smile he directed toward you, You huffed drawing your attention back to the work before you, "Squid's ink is a good conductor for magical properties. My theory is that it will help you feel the momentum of the magic through each rune as you cast." Gazing at your finger tips, "You're not the only one suffering, my fingers will be stained for days now."

"Stained?!" Gale cried. "You've ruined my beautiful body with inky stains?" He half joked, his face turning into mock anger.

"You're being dramatic, you asked for my help." You retaliated, "You said you trusted my judgment as one who "worked within the Weave.""

"Seems I was wrong to put my trust in you then." Gale's words were harsh, but the playful tone in his voice told otherwise. You gently turned his face away so he was looking forward again and he chuckles.

"If you keep distracting me this cold ink will only stay on for longer."

"Your fingertips will keep me warm enough any how."

"Gale."

"Right sorry, distractions."

Your face warmed at his comment. Gale was not shy at all when it came to comments like that, but you could never tell if his words were just his Gale nature or if they were laced with more. Your poor heart couldn't take it. This task might as well be torture. How could he ask this of you when you harbored such great feelings for him?

Your fingers traced down the expanse of his back once more, painting the final rows of inky runes.

You clapped, signaling you finished your work. Gale turned, looking into the mirror off to the side of him to get a better look at the runes on his back.

"Marvelous!" He exclaimed.

You let out a breath as you began packing away the ink, having mixed feelings about ending this intimate painting.

Just as you were to begin the journey back to your tent Gale called out to you.

"Where are you going? We aren't finished."

You turned looking back at him with a confused expression.

"There's more my dear." He said flipping the page of his book, showing you the other half of the runes.

You cocked a brow at him, "And where is the rest meant to go? There is no more room on your back."

He cleared his throat, looking nervous? His voice was soft when he spoke, "On the front half."

"Oh" was all you breathed out in realization.

You slowly made your way back to your original spot while he watched you patiently. He sat on his knees, this time facing you. You were able to see how much broader Gale was then you when his back faced you, but now? He towered over you now too, if you were to lower your head he would be unable to see your face. You were thankful for this as you opened the bottle of squid's ink and balanced it on your lap.

Looking back up at him you flashed you a nervous smile yet cheesy smile.

He's adorable.

Glancing down to his chest you were able to see the imprint of his unfortunate past with magic. You'd never seen it so clearly before. The twisting lines that curled up his neck was all that you had been able to see till now. Seeing the tattoo that once caused him great pain, now calmed, felt so meaningful it pulled at your heart. How long had a gazed at this mark and felt nothing but remorse and heartbrokenness? Does he still feel that way now even with his new "control" over it?

You bit your lip, lost in thought. Gale noticed your lingering eyes. Gently taking your hand in his he placed it on mark softly. Your eyes meet briefly as he gave you anxious but encouraging smile. Your featherlight fingers traced it, ink free and memorizing its pattern. He let out a soft noise, shuttering under your touch. Was it from the softness of your touches or from the vulnerability of the moment neither he nor yourself were sure.

He sighed dreamily, watching you. "You don't have to worry about it impeding on the runes. You should be able to paint over it just fine." He chuckled, "its a mer regrettable tattoo now." He joked but you knew he would never be able to see it that way.

Your brow furrowed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't frown love, this is the mark of the weapon that ends the dreaded absolute!"

"It won't come to that." you say firmly. "I won't let it come to that."

He doesn't say anything in response, but when you look up and see him quickly wipe one of his eyes you decide you don't need an answer.

The space between you grows comfortbly quite as you begin your painting once again.

You feel his eyes as you paint across his chest and you can't help but to feel like a squirming mess under his gaze.

"You know you can stop watching me like a teacher watches their apprentice. I'm able to handle a few simple ruins." You say in a matter-a-fact tone.

He hums. "I know. You have proven to me that you are very capable."

"Then you don't need to stare so intensely."

"That is not the reason I stare anyway."

"Why do you stare then?"

He pauses when you stop to look up at him. "Is it so wrong to watch beauty as they work?" His eyes gleam of something awaiting your response.

You have no response for him, unfortunately. Well, not a verbal one at least, as your jaw hangs slack and finger stops mid swipe. You blink rapidly and clear your throat trying to recompose yourself. Eyes averted from his you attempt to recover the rune you just scribbled out, you squeak, "You- your.... What did I say about being a distraction Gale?"

He threw his head back with laugher and you could only assume you gave him the response he was looking for.

You finish the last rune while he continues to laugh. You gaze up at him again while his head remains back, laughing, his throat on full display.

The air around him becomes filled with a different type of tension as you take this opportunity to begin the runes that were meant to be painted on his neck.

His boisterous laughing comes to a small choke when you place your inky index and middle finger on his throat and pull them down. He gulps visually and lets out a strained moan. Your fingers continue down his throat and end at the expanse of his sternum.

He looks down at you still with his head back, his mouth ajar as your voice fills his ears.

"Oh, don't become distracted Gale. I'm nearly finished." You say, your voice like velvet. While he stammers for a response you dip both of your hands in the ink, preparing for the final part of the spell

He attempts to say something else, but whatever it was is cut off by a dreamy sigh as you place both your inky hands on his face and drag your fingers down the sides of his neck while your thumbs drag down the front of his throat. You connect the inky lines to the runes toward the middle of his chest.

You prop yourself onto your knees so you tower above him. He watches you eyes unblinking and unable to look away as you place your index finger on his lips. Drawing a line down his chin and connecting it to the stripes on his throat. The final inky blob of the rune.

His eyes, half lidded with want? Desire? His face dark red from, nervousness? Arousal?

You don't get a good enough moment to look before you pick up you squid's ink and remove yourself from your flustered "canvas".

"Let me know how the spell goes Gale!" You say to him as you turn to leave. "Oh and please let me know if ever need my connection with the Weave again for your... experiments."

footnote : This is my first bg3 fic! and this is a new blog. Requests are open and I will have rules soon but for now just request without reading them since I don't have them up yet. Pretty please request cause my head is empty lol. Thanks! - Witchy

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angelltheninth · 5 months

Text

Astarion Comforting You During Your Period

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, period cramps, cuddles, kissing, biting, drinking blood

A/N: Another fluffy Astarion commission. Periods suck, but so does he, just in a more fun way.

"Darling?" Astarion stirred next to you at the first ray of sunlight, his arm winding around your middle, "I can hear you whimpering. Are you..." He inhaled sharply, the deep, strong smell of iron overloading all his senses. "Oh. You are... on your time of the month aren't you?"

You groaned and curled further into yourself, wincing when another jolt of pain stabbed at your lower abdomen. A cold yet caring hand rubbed along your arm, and pretty soon you felt his cheek press against yours too, lips ghosting over your skin. He was trying to make you feel better, but no amount of cuddles would make the cramps go away or the bleeding stop.

"Is there anything you crave? I'll go and get you anything you need." Kiss after soothing kiss pressed against your cheek, behind your ear, eventfully coaxing you to look at him. "There she is."

He rose up and scooted forward to kiss you but you placed your hand over his soft lips, making him arch an eyebrow in question, "Don't. I feel so gross right now."

"You're never gross to me." His lips ticked your fingers as his hands kept running up and down your body, now a little lower, on your hips.

"I'm bleeding, it feels gross, I feel sick, everything hurts and I..." Tears of frustration welled at the corners of your eyes, "This is so stupid."

Astarion's lips were back on you, kissing away your tears of frustration. "It's alright darling. I'm here. I can't pretend to know what you're going through, but I'm ready to help. For now I can take some of your pain away, feed a little and then I'll be off to buy you whatever it is you need."

"F-Feed from? Astarion! That's gross!" You cringed at the thought. The only time you'd ever cringe from the image of him between your legs.

"What?" The scent coming from between your legs made his nose twitch. "Oh!" He laughed, showing his pretty fangs, "No darling not from there. From your neck." His explanation combined with the mirth in his red eyes made your body feel even hotter. "It will make you feel good. Take your mind off the pain."

True, his bites were heavenly really.

"Not too much. I'm already bleeding." Red eyes twinkled as he approached your neck, mouth parting in anticipation, tongue licking over the familiar and marked spot on your neck. His body was half on top of you. Normally you would have him fully on you and grinding against him but the only thing you could summon strength for was draping them over his shoulders.

He took your warning to heart, fangs piercing soft skin, sucking, pressing his mouth and tongue against you, every cell in his body revitalized and energized by the coppery liquid flowing into his mouth and down his throat. It didn't matter where in your cycle you were, you always tasted sweet to him.

A low whine sounded from you when he pulled his fangs out and grinned down at you, "Now we're both covered in blood." Except it looked cute on him. Cute and hot.

The rush of wetness between your legs wasn't arousal though, it was much more sticky. You pressed your head into his shoulder and groaned until it stopped. His lips whispered comforting words to you, knowing it may not be much but he was doing his best. "Tea. I need you to go into town and buy me some herbal tea. It will help with the cramps and the bleeding. And lots of clean cloth. I don't want to wash everything I own at the end of this."

"Done and done." He pulled you into a long hug, nuzzling his nose against you and taking deep breath of your scent. "Anything for you my love."

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cammys-imagines24 · 7 months

Text

°•Astarion Drinking Your Blood•°

Oh, Astarion never tires of your taste.

Whether it's his first time drinking from you or the hundredth.

You were his first human after all.

But even if he hadn't of lived centuries slaking his thirst with that of vermin...

Forcing their rotten, diseased blood down his hungry maw in sheer desperation...

The Vampire would still find your blood to be like ambrosia from the gods.

The sweetest thing to grace his tongue and warm his belly.

Sometimes it's hard to stop, if Astarion is being honest with himself.

But he loves you too, too much to put you in any mortal peril.

Though after a feeding you may feel dizzy and need to recuperate the next day.

It's just, after so long dining upon infected, squirming rats with mottled fur and yellowing buck teeth...

In the shadows of night, prowling the pests and repugnant riffraff.

He can't help himself and he's grateful you allow him to indulge a little.

But despite however ravenous he is, he's always gentle.

Pulling you close and kissing the moonlit column of your throat.

Tenderly wrapping his ivory arms around your waist, his tone sultry while whispering sweet nothings and gratitudes in your ear.

Astarion is so well versed in his ministrations that you've come to want him to feed off of you just as much as he wants, no, needs to be fed by you.

You relishing his hands leaving indents in the flesh of your hips and his breath upon your nape...

Often finding yourself tugging on strands of his curled silver locks to pull him closer.

Until no space is between you two. Until his mouth touches your neck.

And once it does, Astarion can't help but close his eyes, an involuntary shudder resounding through his whole body at the perfume of you.

Your essence a seductive potion which the Vampire would gladly, willingly lap up forever and ever.

No matter how gentle and inviting he makes the build up though, there's simply nothing to be done about the initial pain.

Astarion can't help the fact that once he bares his pearly, white fangs and sinks them into the sensitive flesh of your neck that it's unpleasant.

His fangs like two white hot pokers burrowing into your jugular vein, causing a muffled scream to leave you.

Your bottom lip plump from how hard you gnaw at it.

He does hate your scream. It revolts him that he's the cause of it.

But it is a momentary distress from you before you reassuringly comb through his hair again.

And after a few labored breaths, you ease into the pain. Getting used to it every single time.

By then he's drunk on you. Gorging himself on the nectar of your life. The crimson, pulsing river of your very being.

He's practically sent to heaven with each swallow and he never thought a spawn like him would get there.

Once you go slack in Astarion's arms he holds you tight, cradling your warm body. His fingers ghosting over your chest, hips, stomach...

And when your heartbeat begins to slow that's when he forces himself to pull away.

Licking the scarlet stream which drips down the two raw puncture wounds.

Cleaning up his mess all the way down to the start of your cleavage, exposed from your unlaced shirt.

Aftercare is incredibly important to Astarion and he is quick to sweep you up bridal style in his arms.

Tucking you safely into your shared bed and fetching you a glass of cool water.

You, weakened and tired, putting up little fuss but managing to smile at him and reach out to take his hand.

He wastes no time, falling into bed with you and pulling you close so your head is upon his chest.

He keeps you in a vice grip all night long so that any who would dare come to harm you in your diminished state would have to go through him first.

And he damn well would never let any harm come to you, save that of the wounds he assaults upon your neck.

And with you content but exhausted in Astarion's arms he licks his red stained lips and smiles in satisfaction.

He thinks you are a marvel really, to allow him to drink your blood in the first place.

To consent willingly and give him a taste of pure ecstasy.

And with his flushed cheeks and twinkling, enlivened crimson eyes, he places a kiss on your forehead.

Whispering how very much he loves you while you sleep soundly upon his chest.

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