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eyebagshawty · 3 months

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Hey, I really like your works! I wondered if you could make something about suicidal reader and astarion, gale, halsin and anyone you feel like.

But only if you're comfortable with it. Some general hurt/comfort would be ok. Best inspiration 💛

Blurbs for Male Companions Comforting a Suicidal Tav

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Wyll

Warnings/Tags: some canon typical violence, suicidal thoughts/ideation, suicide attempt, angst, comfort, some are durge Tav, probably a dead dove do not eat situation

A/N: As someone who struggles with this type of thing daily, I really enjoyed expressing my interpretation of this; it was therapeutic in a way. These are blurbs, so it may not be as developed as I would like, but I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a part two with the ladies :)

Astarion

Marcus had kidnapped Isabelle. The sweet cleric had welcomed your party into the arms of Last Light Inn, and somehow you were too weak to save her. It was your fault.

Your. Fault.

Astarion had comforted you after, saying you couldn’t have known you would need every last bit of your magic to give your help. You couldn’t have known you would need to rest. It was just as much of a surprise to him, to Shadowheart, to Karlach. But the more you stare at Nettie’s wyvern toxin — more of a keepsake at this point than a tool for battle — the more you decide you should’ve known. Jaheira’s expression after Last Light had fallen, it’s burned into your memory. You had promised her your only intention was good, but there was still something in her eyes that showed blame.

As you watch your companions move around camp and settle next to the fire, your left hand subconsciously lifts your dagger from its holster; your right hand coming up to your mouth to open the seal of the wyvern toxin. Where could you even go from here? There was no moon lantern, but no reason to go back. You don’t even have anywhere to go back to if you think about it.

You really are a monster, the tadpole your own scarlet letter. The dagger is slathered with the wyvern toxin, and as you smile at your lover from across camp the dagger makes a shallow slice into your thigh just out of sight.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed guys, we’ve got a lot to plan tomorrow about where to go from here,” you mumble, your eyes slightly glazed from the poison entering your system. Your companions nod in agreement, each one heading to their tent to prepare for bed. Astarion, however, watches you. His brow furrows, and he’s about to offer for you to sleep in his tent again, but you’re already in front of him. “Hello love, I know it’s a bit early into, well, us. But I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight.”

Astarion gently takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles. “Of course my sweet,” he whispers. But the closer you get to him, the weirder you smell. He can smell the familiar bouquet of your blood, just a trace of it, but there is a sour note in there. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” As he looks back up to your eyes you let out a sob you’d been holding since earlier that day. His eyes widen; he isn’t good at comfort but for you he can try. “Darling what’s wrong?” He prods, needing to help you in your state.

You feel you can’t verbalize it, so your tadpole nuzzles up to his, asking for entrance. He accepts, and the images of your actions, your thoughts, your feelings flood into his mind. After the connection breaks you crumple to the ground, the poison entering the later stages.

Astarion’s thoughts immediately clear as he stares down at you in horror. He gathers your body into his arms and runs to Shadowheart, your seemingly now small and delicate form writhing within them. Shadowheart stands as she sees him running. “What happened Astarion?” She sternly quips, her eyes softening at the sight of you.

“They… it was one of those winged horrors. It poisoned them. Please help them. Please.” Astarion looks down at your eyes as they twitch and gaze blankly towards the sky. Shadowheart eases an antidote and a greater health potion into your mouth. Once you have your faculties about you once more, you lean your face into Astarion’s chest and weep. “Shh my love, let’s get you to bed.”

He lays you down gently to the various pillows in his tent, his every vein screaming to run. He isn’t ready for this kind of care and work a relationship requires. What am I thinking? It’s Tav, not some sorry bloke from a tavern. Get yourself together.

“I’m sorry. That was a pathetic idea for me to have, I know you might not want to explore this any further and I’ll still help you with-“

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” he mutters as he strokes your cheek with his fingers. “I’ve been right where you are before. Nowhere to go further but nothing to go back to, hmm?” You nod and he gives you a sad smile. “I find that I’m more happy than ever to be alive right now. Well, unalive but that’s no matter. I have you. We will find a way to get that damned moon lantern. I’ll bite everyone in this camp to take a break for a day. Whatever you need. I’m here and I… I love you.” He definitely didn’t think of saying the L word now of all times, but as a surprise to him it feels perfectly right.

“I love you too. Please just hold me.”

And so he does.

Gale

As you wake to the blinding light of the sun, restraints tug at your wrists. The memories of the last night come flooding back into you. The fear in Gale’s eyes as you bit at him that he had tried to hide, the way you kept failing to break through the urges to speak to him. He was so sweet to you. He didn’t deserve it. You love him.

“Glad to have you back with us my love,” Gale whispers into your ear as he frees your wrists and ankles from the restraints. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the fire. “Breakfast is ready. You told me your favorite is an omelet with bacon and some tea?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to do this for me. I was being dreadful to you,” you mutter, looking down at the food.

“Of course I did. Our love knows no bounds, right? Now, eat. Baldur and his gate are waiting for us.” He kisses your head and you force a smile, shoving the food into your mouth as if you aren’t sick to your stomach with yourself.

The fight in the astral prism had put everyone off kilter. When you had found out the protector in your dreams, the person you needed to trust with your life, was a mindflayer, you only wanted rip each tentacle off its face and eat them as it watched. You did trust it. You were just so deplorable you thought its intestines would look beautiful around its neck to hang outside of your tent as decoration.

You can’t stand yourself anymore. Not just your actions, but your body. The urges make your body hurt, make your head pound and your stomach wretch. You never see a person in the mirror, you see a diseased sack of flesh squealing to be kept alive.

Gale holds you in his lap, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he reads one of his unusually large tomes. You feel disgusting. You will never deserve something nice like this. “I’m going to go see if I can spot the city from that building over there love,” you whisper as you kiss his cheeks and stand up, your stomach twisting as he gazes at you with loving eyes. He can’t love this, can he?

“Do you want me to tag along? I love a good tower as much as the next wizard,” he asks softly as he rubs your sides with his warm hands. You shake your head and force another smile. His brow lightly furrows but he shakes it off and presses a kiss to your lips in parting.

You find yourself sitting on the edge of the tower roof overlooking all of Baldur’s Gate. It has been a couple of hours, and you decide you don’t want to know any more about Orin or the makings of the absolute. Something in your mind tells you it will be the end of a lot of things if you find out. You shakily stand, letting out a ragged breath as pebbles skitter off the edge from under your feet. You close your eyes, exhale, and lean forward, when you fly through the mist into Gale’s tent. You let out a broken cry as warm and strong arms wrap around you, smelling of parchment and tea leaves.

“My love, I’ve felt the immanence of our situation for a while, and when Mystra abandoned me I thought I was as good as a newborn gnoll, destined for nothing but madness. But darling, what were you thinking?” He mutters into your hair.

“The urges won’t- nothing will stop. At my core I’m evil, something to be exhausted. I can’t-“

“Tav, I wouldn’t be as in love with you as I am if these things you said about yourself were true. I would give up my tressym to Astarion if it meant I could relieve any of your pain. Don’t tell her I said that though, Tara would never let me hear the end of it.” You let out a quiet chuckle, his dry humor always helping. “Now let’s sleep, no matter what this packed and unforgiving city does to us we will get through it together.”

“I love you, please, please don’t leave.”

“I would never dream of it.”

Halsin

Orin has captured Gale, and you feel helpless. Did you really not know your friend well enough to see that a shapeshifter was in his place? You have known him for months at this point. And yet, it was your fault for not checking in with him. For getting in that petty fight over the crown of Karsus that made you both ignore each other.

As you and your party trudge once again through the sewers, Astarion and Shadowheart both bombard you with questions about their personal needs within the city.

“Shadowheart, I understand we need to go to the House of Grief but Gale could quite literally be dead right now,” you assert softly, trying to show that she means just as much to you.

“Ugh, Gale. Of all times we have to be in a pickle it has to be over him and right now,” Astarion mutters to himself. You try to push down your frustration but the smirk on his face pushes you over the edge combined with his next words, “You’re the one that’s supposed to be making the rounds, darling. I can take Shadowheart to the house, and you and bear boy can find the bootmuncher.”

As shameful as it is for you, tears burst from your eyes as anger and anxiety take over. “So go. I don’t care anymore since you have never gone out of your way for us. I… fuck!” You slam your sword onto the ground and walk yourself back to cool off.

As Astarion builds up his retort, hurt and defensiveness flashing across his expression, Halsin steps in front of you protectively. “Calm down, Astarion. This does not need to be a fight. Let’s just break for the day. Come, my heart.” As he takes your hand comfortingly in his, you feel a gnawing dread seeping into your bones. This was all your fault, and you keep burning bridges with people you care for and you don’t know how to stop.

At the end of the day you find yourself in the middle of the woods, further from camp than Halsin liked, but it was your privacy; you asked for it and he would respect it. You stared down at your sword, your hands jaunting out to hold it at an awkward angle towards your chest. It had been like this for around an hour; you couldn’t even do this correctly, thinking about how everyone would grimace if they found you like this . Fuck it.

As the knife glides through your padded armor, a large hand places itself on your shoulder. It’s warm, and it smells like herbs and cinnamon. “My heart, please. This is not the way. We’ve come so far on this journey, together, and almost nothing has ever gone wrong. Silvanus guide me, please speak. I need to hear that you are okay,” Halsin chokes out, his voice thick with concern.

“It’s just… I would have known if Gale was acting weird. If I hadn’t pushed him away. I’m doing the same to Astarion, I’ll do it to all of them. When someone goes Illithid it will be on me. Hells we’re taking a break and he could be anywhere.”

“As much as we all love you little one, there is no leader. Nobody could have seen that coming. I had choice words with Astarion, and he would love to speak with you. Everything is handled, I just need you to understand that we can take the weight off of your shoulders occasionally. I love you with everything inside of me. Please know that you are loved.”

The sword clatters to the dirt, and Halsin brings you into his arms; a bear hug in every sense of the term. “I guess I will need Astarion to sew this back up,” you mutter, finger the frayed threads above your heart.

“That sounds like a great idea, little one. I’ll put on some tea for when you’re done.” He kisses your head and walks you back to camp, his arms never leaving your waist.

After a cathartic conversation with your resident vampire, a big brown cave bear awaits you in your tent with blankets and tea.

Wyll

On the dock overlooking the Chionthar, a blade glares up at you from your worn fingers. The Netherbrain is dead, your friends are free from the things that bind them, but you don’t know if it’s the same for you. Nobody forced you to create the Illithid plot with Enver Gortash, nobody forced you to kill Alfira. Her face will haunt you forever, what you did to her in a cold sweat during the middle of the night.

Sure, you had given up Bhaal’s inheritance, but it was still your skin that was covered in blood. It was still your face that bit and spit at the urge’s victims. It was with your eyes that you looked down at Alfira’s cold and eviscerated body. Wither’s had resurrected you in the temple, but you still felt shame creep into your veins. You weren’t a new person, you just forgot.

You saw Wyll hugging Karlach, her new Illithid form unusual but still distinctly her. You want to be with him, you need him like breathing, but the guilt and regret is gnawing at your flesh like a newborn gnoll. Maybe he would be better off taking his role as grand duke by himself, the whole city would whisper of the mad adventurer that had to fight for forgiveness to their complicit nature in the plot. As the blade begins to take its final drink from your wrist, Wyll looks up and shouts your name.

An eldritch blast knocks the blade into the sea, and warm hands wrap gently around your wrist, and a handkerchief is pressed to the small nick. He smells sulfuric but sweet like cinnamon apples as he presses a worry-filled kiss to your head. It comforts you but it shouldn’t; you don’t deserve this. “My love, what is wrong? The netherbrain has fallen, Karlach lives, what could trouble you this much?” He whispers into your ear, making sure the others know this interaction is private.

“I can’t live with myself. I may have forgotten a good extent of my past, but I remember everything from that point on the nautiloid onward clear as a whistle. It’s too much to act like I’m this hero,” you whisper back, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Wyll lifts up your left hand, a ring glinting in the morning sun. He kisses the knuckle wearing it, and looks up into your eyes with a bittersweet smile. “I did not choose you to be the love of my life, my sun and stars, because I thought you were evil my love,” he kisses your cheeks and puts his forehead to yours. “That wasn’t the you I see before me, this wonderful creature who sees past my horns, past Astarion’s vampirism, past Gale’s orb godssakes,” he chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh.

“I just don’t want to be that again. Ever again,” you whisper as you glance at your joined hands. Wyll brings a hand to your cheek and kisses your lips with a tender touch.

“It will take time. Just like I have newfound bumps in weird places, I need to get used to those. It’s being human. Now come with me, future Ravengard, we have beers to slam with our friends.”

He helps you up, and pulls you into the tightest hug as if you could disappear. You walk into the brightening dawn to the Elfsong Tavern, making sure tease him about becoming the grand duke the entire way.

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 romance #gale dekarios #gale x reader #halsin x reader #halsin #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard #18+ content #please read tags #angst

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eyebagshawty · 3 months

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Is It Really You? (Part 3)

Pairing: Astarion x Spawn!Reader

Summary: While Astarion is roaming the streets for Cazador's next meal, he stumbles upon someone crying near the edge of the lower city. Turns out, you wouldn't be a worthy victim, and you're a lot closer to him than you may imagine.

Song Inspo: Is It Really You? By Loathe

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/cruelty, mentions of abuse, mentions of trauma, NSFW (18+ ONLY), Cazador is his own warning

Other Tags: Slow burn, eventual smut, fem!Reader, soulmates

A/N: Hello! As no surprise to anyone, I’ve been pretty down and out lately. However, here’s a new chapter in an attempt to get back in the swing of things! I see everyone’s request and love them, and they’ll be written (reliably) in a week or so as I push through them. N e ways sorry I’ve been away I’ve missed you guys :,)

Part 1 Part 2

Leon shook your shoulders in the confines of your quarters, his expression one of protective fury. “What the hell were you thinking? Hmm? Going to see him and doing… hells… this!” He hissed, wiggling your wrist in front of your eyes. Because the bond had been sealed, the entire room smelled like Astarion. You frantically wiped at the tears streaming down your face in a futile attempt.

“Please Leon… I need you to be quiet about this. I don’t want him to be hurt. Please,” you pleaded with him, wiping the excess blood from your wrist onto his arm as you grasped for them to get his attention.

His face contorted even further. “Quiet. Quiet?! I have a daughter. A child. The only reason I do the things I do for him is for her. Nobody else.” He watched as you pulled away, hurt and surprise flashing across your eyes. “Fine,” he sighed, “but if I even sniff anything else, which master surely will, you’re done for darling.”

You let out another sob but nodded. You would never see Astarion again for everybody’s safety. As Leon undressed you and stuck you in the bathtub to begin scrubbing the scent out of your skin, your chest tugged and a thought clouded your senses. Elfsong. You tried not to show any difference in expression, and tried your damndest to transmit a yes.

Once you smelled a little more like yourself, Leon gathered you into a robe and began bandaging your wrist. “He can’t see it, darling. Not if you want to keep your lips,” he whispered in a morbid sense of comfort. You shook your head clear, in the need of making a plan for the first time in centuries.

“Please Leon. Go see him and make sure he’s okay. Tell him I’m okay,” you held his fingers in a gentle plea. Cazador would be back any minute and if he saw Astarion looking like he did when you parted, his rage would know no bounds.

Leon stroked your knuckles and squeezed them as he stood. “Your bed clothes are on the masters bed. Change. Quickly.” He heard scrambling feet and caught Cazador’s scent at the entrance of the castle. He pushed you to your feet. “Go,” he whispered, giving you the faintest nod as he made his way to the dormitory.

Astarion felt nauseous. From being away from his mate? Maybe. From the thought of his possible impending death? Surely. Dal and the others had pelted him with questions when he arrived back at the dormitory, to which he spat venomous words and crawled into his bunk away from everyone.

He kept thinking about the Elfsong tavern, how he needed to see you again, despite what his disgusting master commanded. He wanted to cherish you, become one with you, body and soul. He wanted to take you to the edges of Faerǔn, away from all the dangers that lurked this side of the river Chionthar.

He bolted upright as he smelled rose and vanilla soap, eyes darting around the room in search of you. His search was blocked by Leon in front of him, with a furious glare in his glowing red eyes. “You. With me. Now.”

Leon dragged Astarion out of the spawn dormitory and into the favored spawn room. Victoria sat reading in one of the faux luxurious beds. When she saw Astarion her book slammed closed. “Papa? What’s going on?”

“Darling, why don’t you go visit the gardens, the moon looks beautiful tonight. Don’t forget your dictionary,” Leon said, his voice thick with urgency. Victoria scrambled out of the room, and as soon as the door creaked shut Leon’s hands were on Astarion’s neck. “What were you thinking? If you find out someone is your mate in this fucking family you keep your godsdamned mouth shut. This is destroying everything. Hells, I might have to convince Vic to escape if Cazador finds out about this.”

“We aren’t family,” Astarion choked out. Leon sighed and released his grip. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had one, but it’s harder than it looks to just let her go.”

“Regardless, you need to stay away from each other. I mean fuck Astarion her quarters are dripping with that stench Cazador makes you wear around,” Leon muttered. Despite the circumstance, Astarion’s heart wanted to sing at the thought of his mark being left. Of having one thing in his godsforsaken life be his.

“How is she?” He whispered.

“Not well, but she’s managing. She wanted me to check on you, even though this is your fault,” Leon spat.

“Oh come off it, Leon,” Astarion hissed.

“You know what? I don’t care. Bath is over there, scrub out the scent she left on you. The bite is simply the struggle of a rat if anyone asks,” Leon huffed and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and looked back to Astarion with a glimmer of worry. “He’s back.”

Cazador’s eyes shot to your wrist as he entered his quarters. Leon had bandaged it well enough, but it looked out of place with your pastel blue and pretty much translucent nightgown. He sat down on the bed and dragged you into his lap, his hands having a bruising grip on your arms as he lifted your wrist to his nose. “Tch. My treasure, what have I told you about suicide attempts? They’re futile. And you’ve made poor Leon take time out of his day to remedy you.”

“I’m sorry my lord… I just-“ he yanked you closer and you had to hold back a panicked yelp.

“Just what? After everything I give you. Privileges to the grounds, privileges to me, a luxurious room to sleep in. And what do I get in return? Another case to cover up for the Grand Duke? I won’t stand for it.” He pushed your face down into the bed with the palm of his hand. With a snap of his fingers, Godey entered the room within 30 seconds flat. “Have your fun with her, I need to speak with Leon about why he didn’t tell me sooner,” he spat. He leaned down and placed a tender yet warning kiss under your ear that made your stomach turn, “I’ll be back later toy. Hopefully this proves to be a good lesson,” he whispered. He gave your hair a few more sickeningly thoughtful strokes and exited the room, locking the door behind him.

“You never learn do you, girl. That’s alright, Godey will help with that,” you could hear his awful excitement. And with the first blow to your ribs, you could only think one word. Help.

Astarion finished his scrubbing; something which actually always felt kind of good after centuries of feeling filthy. He eyed the bite mark on his wrist and his lips formed into a small smile. He wasn’t lying when he said he would live for you now, something that surprised even him. He traced his thumb over the puckered wounds and felt a shiver run through him.

After getting dressed he touched up his unpulsing points with his perfume, glancing around the ‘favored spawn quarters’. He scowled to himself. Some lot they think they are, he thought. He whirled around at the slamming open of the door to see Cazador, a fury blazing unmatched in his glowing blood red eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing in here boy?” Cazador growled. He roughly grabbed Astarion’s shoulders to straighten his back. “And I’ve told you for years to stop slou-“ his voice cut off as he made eye contact with Astarion’s wrist. The same spot your injury was in. Astarion did his best to look indifferent.

“One of the rats got extra frisky last night,” he mumbled. Cazador yanked his jaw up to look at him.

“Only speak when spoken to.” The words sounded deathly calm, as if the man — monster rather — would snap in two at a moment’s notice. He pushed Astarion’s jaw to the side on release to push him off balance. “I don’t have time for this.” And just like that, Cazador had unusually left without punishment.

That’s when Astarion felt it. The thought. Help. His senses became fully alert, where could you be? Should he even help or would he make it worse? After years and years of self survival, of selfishness, he made up his mind and thundered through the castle and up the stairs. Upon reaching your bedroom door he started shouting, “There once was a cleric of Gond, who was cursed with a very small wand…”

After quite a few health potions and 3 days, Astarion’s ankles finally felt good enough to walk around and work again. If one could even call it work. He was sat at a table with half elf named Daimond (Why does he even remember the names anymore? He asked himself.), twirling his silver locks and speaking in low sultry tones.

“I actually work over at Sorcerous Sundries. I’m trying to get a spot next to Lorroakan himself,” the half-elf smiled, a blush dusting his cheeks.

“Ah, a wizard. Not often that I see a particularly talented one in the heart of the city,” Astarion said as he took a sip of his wine, wiping a stray dribble with his thumb, forming his lips into a pout, “A spot next to Lorroakan you say? I guess that means you should be very good with your wand?”

The half-elf’s eyes widened, a bashful laugh echoing throughout Astarion’s ears. “Maybe later tonight I could show you.”

Astarion held back a gag and a grimace, breaking eye contact for a fraction of a second. In that fraction, he could swear he saw wine red eyes and a navy blue gown. He regained his composure quickly and whispered, “Sounds like a deal, darling.” He pressed a kiss to Dammon’s? Demon’s? No that can’t be right. Damien’s neck, which made him elicit a giggle.

Okay he was definitely going crazy. His chest lurched as he smelled roses and vanilla, and saw you sitting at a secluded table away from the crowd, your navy blue gown cascading onto the floor as you drank a small goblet of wine. He felt a tug at his fingers.

“Well get up silly, we don’t have all night,” Diamond (?) said with a soft grin, angling his head towards the entrance. Astarion placed a hand over his.

“I just remembered, a good friend of mine needs to meet with me for a case. Typical magistrate work,” he smiled, every one of his limbs screaming to go to you.

“Oh…. Well, how about in 3 days time we meet back here? I enjoy your company Astarion,” the half-elf said, his smile outweighing the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“We will make it so my sweet,” Astarion chirped, “I’m afraid I must go. Good luck with your position!” He bolted up and practically ran to you, grabbing your cheeks and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

His veins sang, his heart felt like it was beating, everything felt right. You were back in his arms once more. You pulled away after releasing a soft moan, taking his pale hands in yours and squeezing them.

“I want to leave, Astarion. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Astarion uttered; he wasn’t ready. You couldn’t possibly be ready.

You pressed a kiss to each of his cheekbones and then one more to the bite mark on his wrist.

“Tonight.”

Taglist:

@amefuyuu @simpytheshrimpy69 @savagemickey03 @axolotl-of-evil @skittleabyss

@strangerfansxlpr @gobbodoggo

#fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #bg3 #18+ content #astarion ancunin #alternate universe #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #soulmates #slow burn #bg3 romance #18+ only

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