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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

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Might I request an enemies to friends to lovers with Astarion?

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A QUICK LITTLE DRABBLE. IT IS ALMOST 4K WORDS. It also became a songfic. The song is "Your Stupid Face" by Kaden MacKay

Also it is 11:20. I am so tired. I do not have the energy to proofread this rn. So it's as good as it's gonna get

Warnings: self-doubt, bickering

Word Count: 3,957

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I just really hate your face

Though I know that won't surprise you

But, to me, your skin is one giant wart

And your laugh's one big snort

And you stink, so in short

I despise you

You disgrace the human race

'Cause you're more of a mosquito

I would rather have the dentist and drill

Then this swine in the swill

And if you were a bill, I would veto

And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace

But since the world could never be that great

I'll just hate your stupid face

Astarion sighed just behind you. You glared over your shoulder at him. Did he really have to be so annoying when you were trying to help? What did he have against doing the right thing?! Or were all high elves as up their asses as him?

The little girl glanced nervously between you, her hands fiddling anxiously with each other. “I-Is that alright?”

You turned back to her with a big smile, though Astarion could see the strain behind it. “Of course! It’s no problem. We’ll find your toy and bring it back before nightfall, how’s that sound?”

“Really?!” Her eyes became wide and excited, bouncing on her feet like there were hot coals beneath it. “Thank you so much!”

You watched as she ran off back to her mother, jumping as she grabbed the woman’s arm and pointed at you. You smiled, genuine this time, and waved to them both. Then, you turned to go back into the woods.

The joy didn’t last long.

“I thought being an adventurer meant slaying dragons, learning powerful spells, gaining power - that sort of thing.” Astarion sighed again, long and dramatic, as he stepped over a branch. “But, no, here we are, armed to the teeth, tadpoles crawling into our minds, looking for a stuffed animal.”

You grit your teeth together and tried to ignore him. The sooner you found the girl’s stuffed bear, the sooner you could stop listening to his whining. “She said she lost it over here, somewhere, but something could have taken it or moved it by now. If we split up, we can cover more ground.”

You could almost feel the way he rolled his eyes. “Oh, great. If I find it, I’m not telling you. And I’m certainly not going to touch it. Gods only know what’s on it.”

“You’re such a child!”

He lays a hand over his chest, looking down his nose at you. “I’m so sorry that I have some dignity left.”

How did you get stuck with such an annoying, self-entitled, brat?

“Fine! Then I’ll look, and you can follow me around like a lost puppy.” You smiled sickeningly sweet up at him, your whole expression filled with sarcasm and annoyance. “Happy?”

He scowled. “And I have to follow you because…? If you’re so eager for my company, you should just say so, darling.”

You shook your head, facade falling. “You’re impossible.” You stomped off. He could follow you or wait around, you didn’t have the energy left to care.

—

Oh, no

I just really like your face

You don't have to look so happy

I'm not really into love that you flaunt

In some glittery font

But if that's what you want

Make it snappy

I just feel so out of place

Well, except for when you're near me

When you're gone, I'm like a plant with no root

Or a song that's on mute

Don't you dare call it cute!

You should fear me!

And if the world was perfect, you would've never invaded my space

But since the world's obsessed with saying, "psych!"

Now I like your stupid face

You tilted your head, watching as Astarion held up a mirror. The tadpole kept him from burning in the sun, but it did nothing to bring back his reflection.

“Looking at something?” His voice catches you off guard. It was odd to have someone talking to you with their back turned, even more so when he could see your reflection and you couldn’t see his.

“Just looking,” you tell him. “What are you doing?”

He sighs, forlorn. “I’m looking, too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my affliction.”

“Do you miss it?”

He stands and turns while he speaks, finally meeting you face-to-face. “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He sighs again. His face looks so droopy and sad, like a puppy left out in the rain. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

You look at his eyes, really look. It was hard to picture him with any other color. It was a side-effect of his vampirism, but you could go your whole life believing they always were and always had been red. “What color were they before?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past.” His face scrunches up in rage as he throws the mirror on the ground. You step back to avoid the shards that break from it. “Another thing I’ve lost.”

You can’t imagine forgetting your face. It’s a rather big portion of who you are, after all. Thinking about looking in a mirror and seeing nothing stirs your stomach like a witch’s brew. You study his face, eyes tracing over every curve and sharp edge and wrinkle. You tried to imagine being him, no longer able to see what you looked like.

Astarion frowns at you. “What?”

“I’ll be your mirror.” The words are out before you can even think them, but a spark of hope flickers in his eyes, and you can’t bring yourself to back out of it now. “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me.” He pauses. His voice gets soft, lacking its usual bravado. “What you see.”

He waits as you look at him. You try to figure out what the world sees, versus what you see. The world may see his eyes, sharp and red and keen. The world would see his dangerous smile, full of pretty teeth and sharp fangs, threatening to bite.

But it’s not what you see. You see his hair, paler than freshly fallen snow. You see the way it curls around his ears, how there’s always one stubborn strand hanging by his forehead. You see the wrinkles that crease his face when he smiles, surrounding his mouth and crowding in the corners of his eyes. And you’re startled, trying to figure out how long ago you’d noticed these things about him.

“I see… the creases when you laugh.”

He sneers, placing a hand over his chest. He takes it as an insult when you mean it in the kindest way possible. Without his wrinkles, he wouldn’t be Astarion. “Excuse me? I’m an eternally young vampire, not your doting grandmother.” He huffs. He looks like he wants to stop - never mind what he looks like, he doesn’t want to hear what else you could possibly say. But he continues, “You can do better. What else?” The curiosity wins out.

You wonder if you should tell him the easy answer. Tell him what the world sees. What everyone else sees. But to do so feels like a huge disservice. You inhale, prepared to be scolded once more. “I see the way your hair curls around your ears.”

“This is meant to be flattery, not poetry.” He sighs, creases forming between his brows as he frowns, annoyed. “Just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

“Is that all you want?” You don’t mean to sound as angry as you do. “Shallow praise?”

He scoffs. “Hardly.” He begins ticking off fingers. “There’s also gold, sex, revenge - quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

You shake your head. “What I see isn’t good enough for you then? The seductive, charming face you put on for everyone else - that’s what you want to know about?” He sneers. He hates how easily you’ve read him. And you hate how much it hurts. You can’t tell if it’s because your words mean nothing, or because he can’t even allow himself a single, beautiful flaw. “The world sees your eyes. They’re strong and piercing. And your smile: Dangerous. They see you for the monster you are. Are you satisfied now?”

You leave before he can answer you. Anger trembles in your fingers, but they’re weighed down with sadness. A conflicting bundle of emotions twists in your chest. You shouldn’t care if all he wants is to be called pretty and move on. You shouldn’t! And you don’t!

But you do…

—

I just really miss your face

Though, by now, I must disgust you

I had tried to be the stubbornest mule

'Cause I knew life was cruel

So I guess I was foolish to trust you

But I wait here just in case

Though I know I'm being senseless

How could I have ever been so naive

And wear my heart on my sleeve

When I knew it would leave me defenseless?

And if the world was perfect, you would be here in my embrace

But since the world denied me one last kiss

I'll just miss your stupid face

The sun burned. Truly, honest to gods burned. And he ran. What else was he supposed to do? Bake in the sunlight while everyone else said their teary goodbyes, “We’ll see you down the road”, yadda yadda?

But, he can admit when he messed up.

He should have stayed longer. By the docks. The sun was just beginning to rise, he had plenty of time to slip from one shadow to the next before it was high in the sky. He could have said his goodbyes. He should have.

Already he missed Karlach. He fondly remembers when she hauled him over her shoulder, jostling him about as she ran. He certainly wasn’t too pleased at the time, but now… And he missed her nickname for him. And the banter, and teasing, and… everything.

Everyone had their charms, he supposed. Gale was, well, Gale, but even he wasn’t too bad. And you.

It was hard to admit. He could say he missed the others all day, but you? You who dragged him into the woods to find a stuffed animal for a kid? Who begrudgingly let him have a sip that night he revealed himself? Who yelled at him when he couldn’t bear hearing anything other than he wanted to when you offered to be his mirror? Who hugged him after he killed Cazador? Who helped him save his brothers and sisters and all the other souls whose lives he ruined? Who smiled so sweetly at him?

He couldn’t say it.

After he ran away, cursing and damning the gods for confining him to the shadows again, he disappeared to the Underdark. You’d mentioned how they needed a leader, guidance. And, well, he had nowhere else to go.

He never got to see you run in the direction he left after saying your goodbyes, smiling and excited. Or watch as you search and search for him. How you shout his name. How tears well in your eyes as you realize he’s gone.

And maybe it’s better that way.

—

What are you doing here?

I didn't run away!

It was... it was a strategic retreat

What is there to talk about? It's over—I ruined it

Well, yeah of course I'm sorry, but

No, no, don't forgive me!

Why do you do that?

Why—why give me another chance to mess things up?

Because you—what?

Those three little words

Out of the blue

Completely uncalled for

Especially from you

Why don't you hate me?

Why do you care?

Can't you berate me? Isn't that fair?

Where is your glare?

Don't you dare leave our problems and pain on the shelf!

Because if you don't hate me, I can't hate myself

But that's why I need you

You shatter my fear

'Cause despite my misdeed, you are still right here

Though it's stupid to date me

You're willing to try

And if you don't hate me, then why should I?

Are you sure you don't want to give up on me?

You're a moron

The last thing Astarion anticipates is you barging into his home, stomping and angry. The next last thing he expects is for you to throw a cloak in his face. He backs up as fast as you approach, tripping and falling backward over an armchair. It tips back with him and he lands with a thud. When he pulls the cloak off his face, you’re standing over him, still just as pissed as before.

“Ah.” He grins sheepishly. “Hello?”

“You ran away!”

“Yes, yes, I know-”

“You ran away! I went chasing after you and you were gone!”

“The sun! I couldn’t-”

“I know! That’s why I went and got you that damn cloak! And I was going to give it to you on the docks, but you ran away!”

He struggles to get up, grunting as he tries to push the armchair off so he’s not bent in half. You huff and sit the chair upright. Then, you offer him a hand. He’s not sure if he should take it. He’s half-certain you’ll flip him over and crack the floor with his body. But you wave your hand, insistent, and he does not want to piss you off any more, so he takes it. You haul him to his feet.

He holds the cloak out in front of him, studying it with a frown. “Darling, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but clothes don’t actually protect us from the sun.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” You sigh, hands on your hips, but you seem to have cooled off some. “It’s the Cloak of Dragomir. Gale helped me find where it was hidden. I figured, if the tadpole is the only thing keeping you safe in the sun, then after it’s all over, you’d need something else to protect you. So.” You gestured at the cloak.

He was speechless, and perhaps a bit skeptical. It had already been several weeks since the docks, and every day he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. Basking in the sun. Lounging in her warmth like a cat as he sleepily flipped through a book. It sounded too good to be true - a simple piece of fabric that could prevent him from turning to ash?

“Are you sure it works?”

You laughed, airily and annoyed. “No, I had a shortage of vampires to test it on at the time. I was going to find out when you tried it on. If it didn’t work, well…” You let out a long breath. You refused to take your eyes away from the cloak. Like looking at him again would bring all the rage and frustration back. “I’m still in touch with Gale. He can help me look for something.”

He spun it around to look at the back. It was a deep purple, with the only remarkable feature being a sort of fur around the neck and shoulders. He could almost imagine it hanging up in a shop.

You cleared your throat. “Put it on.”

“Hardly the best place to test it. The sun doesn’t exactly reach down here.” Still, he unclasped it and swung it over his shoulders.

It was light and breezy, allowing air to move through, but warm enough it kept away any chill - not very concerning for a vampire, but still a nice feature. It reached mid-thigh. He shifted around in it, testing its movement and fit. He bristled when he felt something brush against his arm.

He lifted up the edge of the cloak where he felt it, and his undead heart stopped all over again. There, messily embroidered on the lining in gold thread. Little Star. A poor imitation of embroidered stars surrounded it, forming a sort of faux night sky.

“I did that.” You clear your throat and scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes everywhere you looked. Every time you glanced back at him and his dumbfounded face, your cheeks heated up. “I know it’s not as good as yours, but, you know, I thought it was the best way to get a message across.”

His chest was full of emotion. He still had a hard time deciphering it all, even after so long of you carefully teasing them out. But through it all was one resounding question.

“Why?”

You finally made eye contact with him. You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this can’t have been easy to get your hands on. You could have sold it when I ran away, but you embroidered it, sought me out… Why? Let’s be honest, dear, we’re not exactly friends.”

“We’re not exactly at each other’s throats either.” It came out harsher than you meant. You took a breath to calm your nerves. “I know we didn’t really get along when we first met - hells, we still argued about everything under the sun with the slightest prompting, but I do care for you.”

His lips quick up slightly. “An unfortunate choice. I’m not exactly the easiest person to care for.”

“No.” You smile, soft and patient. It was hard to look at you now and connect you to the person who barged into his room moments ago. “But I want to. You’re worth the effort.”

—

So you think that we could work?

Here I thought I'd been the dumb one—what?

You're forgiving me for all I did wrong

You're unmuting the song

And, again, I belong to someone

No! You can drop the stupid smirk

Though by now I guess you've earned that

'Cause no matter how intensely I pout

Your stupid face will win out

And I guess it's about time I learned that

And though we go together like a Chanel Nº 5 and mace

At least it's not as dull as fitting like a glove

'Cause you're a nightmare that I've not been dreaming of

But I suppose that when push comes to shove

Fine!

I love your stupid face

You tugged Astarion through the city, releasing short apologies left and right to any early-risers you bumped into. He’d tried asking multiple times where in the hells you were taking him, but you never answered. You just shot him a bright smile over your shoulder and kept on running.

Before he knew it, you were at the docks. A light orange hue lined the edge of the ocean, signaling the sun’s appearance. He frowned. “You dragged me all the way out here to watch the sunrise?”

“Yes.” You squeezed his hand. Your eyes were wide and bright and filled with overwhelming glee. “You never got to see it last time you were here. But now you can!”

He scoffed, a grin teasing at his lips. “Darling, we could watch the sunrise from anywhere. We don’t need to be exactly here to do so.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, no, but it’s more about the principle of the thing. You didn’t get to see that sunrise and say goodbye, but now you can.”

Red eyes scanned the horizon. Oranges and yellows flooded from the ocean-line, chasing away the dark blue of night. He couldn’t deny it was beautiful, but…

He swallowed, frowning out at the sea. He couldn’t look at your face as he asked, quietly, too afraid to actually put the words out there, “So this is goodbye?”

The edge of the star poked her head out. He’d enjoyed watching the sunrises and sunsets during your adventure. He would welcome her touch onto his skin every day, grateful for even just a brief moment to be able to feel her warmth again after 200 years. And every night he would mourn her loss, a seed of fear planted deep within that any sunset could be his last, before he would be contained to the shadows forever. He never got to savor the last one. The one time he wasn’t prepared to go gracefully into that night.

“It doesn’t have to be,” you whisper back. If you hear the shuddering breath he lets out, you don’t say anything. If you see the tears building at the corners of his eyes as he turns to look at you, you don’t point it out. “I can stay. With you. If you want.”

“I couldn’t ask that of you.” But I wish I could. He wants nothing more than to be selfish. To take every single scrap you offer him and give nothing back.

You release his hand only to better tangle your fingers together. Your thumb runs along his palm. “You wouldn’t have to.”

“You’d be living in the shadows most of your life, even with this,” he lifts the edge of the cloak to make a point.

“Okay.”

“You wouldn’t be able to go on adventures. You wouldn’t be able to find someone else, have a family, live your life.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so willing to give up everything for me?”

You raise your free hand to his cheek. It’s haloed by the red-orange light of the sun. He hates the way he leans into it without a second’s hesitation.

“Is it so hard to believe that I’d stay because I want to be with you?”

He opens his mouth, shuts it again, and tries to find the words. Strained, he chokes out, “Yes.”

“My lovely little star, even without the cloak, I’d stay in the shadows with you for eons. Adventure would be empty without you by my side. There is no one else I could bear to put up with besides you.”

He takes a breath and closes his eyes. It’s hard for the words to sink in, but he urges them to. Staying with him would not be a burden. He is not a burden. He holds your hand to his cheek, pressing it tighter against his skin. By the time he opens his eyes again, the sun is halfway risen.

“I’m not good at… this. Whatever this is. I have no idea how to do anything more than what I had to do. I have no idea what will happen.”

You smile. “Now that sounds like an adventure.”

He chuckles. The knot in his heart loosens. When had you turned from an annoying thorn in his side to this? How long ago had you wormed your way into his soul? What would he do without you?

He feels like he’s just been thrown downstream - caught in the current and waiting for it to burn. He’s uncertain as he leans forward slightly, experimentally. You let him come to you; you wait patiently and smile at him encouragingly until he rests his forehead against yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

The sun warms his skin as he lets go of the guilt holding him back. He’s a mess. He’s still working through his emotions with Cazador, trying to find footing amongst the spawn in the Underdark, trying to be good enough. And here you are saying he already is.

He catches your lips and allows himself to forget for the briefest moments that this is a terrible idea. How can he possibly think this is wrong when you sigh into his mouth and pull him closer? How can this possibly be wrong?

The reds, oranges, and yellows fade from the sky. Bright blue dominates the sky. And everything is okay.

---

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partially-controlled-chaos · 1 month

Text

New Life Shall Prosper, ch. 3

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (as gender neutral as possible, given the context)

Rating: T? (not really smut, but there are some little spicy moments later on)

Warnings: Little spicy moments, but nothing extreme. Pregnancy complications, birthing process that isn't graphic, so much dialogue

Summary: Months after the fall of the Absolute, you and Halsin have carved a happy life for yourselves within Thaniel's Realm, making a safe haven for all. A life full of hope and prosperity, only enhanced once you discover the very real possibility that you are with child.

Word Count: 10.9K

an: Finally had time to finish this chapter up after a very long work week. I've got one more chapter planned for this fic and it'll be complete! Thank you so much to everyone that had interacted with this series and enjoyed it!!

Follow up to this post.

Read on AO3 here if you prefer!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4

Masterlist

Supper by the campfire always brought back fond memories of your days on the road and you admittedly missed the nights of fun and story telling that would follow a long day of battle. Although the tadpoles were certainly a looming threat, the laughter that would erupt from the camp always made things a bit lighter. That’s not to say you didn’t enjoy the suppers you shared now under Thaniel’s Realm. Even though your small army of children listen to stories more than they shared their own, you adored the excitement that would show when a long tale was about to begin. They certainly preferred Halsin’s stories, but were quickly adapting to yours.

They’d had plenty of time to grow accustomed to your stories. What was meant to be a journey lasting only a ten-day had quickly surpassed the mark. A ten-day turned to a fortnight. A fortnight stretched into a full month. And the full month stretched into the beginning of a second. And now time was about to eclipse the end of the second month and Halsin still had not returned home with the scouting party. Because they had yet to return and you hadn’t received so much as a bird with a notice, you were unsure of how everything was. They could be lost, dead, fighting more, or possibly worse, but you had no way of knowing. You tried not to let this bother you in front of the children, not wanting them to worry either, so you always made it a point to tell the most exciting stories and perform with the enthusiasm of a bard reciting an epic tale. But deep down, you were worried. You wanted them all to return home safely, but you were mostly worried about your lover.

The children were huddled at your feet, seated on the ground before you after filling their bellies with the nightly supper. You had gathered them around the fire for their nightly tale, struggling to come up with one for the evening; your mind more focused on the lack of a druid than an engaging tale. You seated yourself on a log stump, sighing at the relief that came with no longer having to stand. By this point, you were in the last stages of your pregnancy and were mere days away from giving birth. Your belly had grown to as large as it would, making most movement difficult and uncomfortable. Not to mention the swelling and aches that accompanied the later stages.

“Will you tell us another story? Please, please! About an adventure!” Begged a child from the middle of the group, bouncing with excitement in their seat.

“No, no a battle!” Shouted another. The questions from the children broke your mind of its thoughts, pulling you back to the present quickly.

“Let me think,” you said while lightly tapping your chin with a finger with a playful grin, “have you been told the story of the frog of the bog?” You were greeted by a series of giggles and whispers. You couldn’t help but smile at the enjoyment in the children’s faces as they eagerly awaited your story; after seeing so many displaced children around the city that were scared and alone, it brought a great joy to your heart to see them enjoying the smaller things life could offer.

“I thought you said this was going to be a story about a battle?” Asked a child in the front of the group.

“Oh, but it is!” You said enthusiastically, “One of my greatest and most difficult.” As serious as you were, you couldn’t help but giggle at the look on the children’s faces. It was obvious that they didn’t believe that someone who had saved them from tentacle-faced monsters struggled to fight a tiny little frog.

“Frogs aren’t tough. They’re small and don’t even have teeth!” Shouted a younger tiefling, “Do they?”

“This one was fierce, my doves! Small and unassuming, but quite the challenge. Let me explain, little ones.” The children huddled tighter around at your feet, their excitement almost humming in the atmosphere as they eagerly awaited your tale.

You told the children the story of the addled frog you and your companions had stumbled across in the swamps near Ethel’s lair; the poor creature having been driven to the brink of madness from the hag. With kindness being in your nature, you had wanted to help the frog in any way you could, knowing what monsters lurked deep in the swamps only fueling the desire. But, given the confusion of the poor creature and your inability to speak with animals, what had initially started out as something close to a rescue mission, resulted in one of the genuinely tougher battles you had faced while playing host to a tadpole.

The ferocity and strength of the frog had caught you off guard, giving you a disadvantage when the small creature suddenly turned hostile against you and your party. You remember the stings of the poison released from the creature, the faintest of scars still on your body from the encounter. You expressed to the children the intensity of the battle and how one unsuspecting amphibian had downed three of your companions and had almost taken yourself in the process. The children gasped and squealed with excitement as you told your story, trying your best to move around and almost animate the fight for them, given the weight of your pregnancy.

As the children murmured amongst themselves about what you had shared of your story so far, your breath hitched. A sharp, unfamiliar sensation shot across your lower abdomen; not exactly painful but surprising enough to catch you off guard. It wasn’t a movement from the child or a rumble from something you had eaten, but something else you couldn’t quite place. You lightly pressed your fingers against the source of the discomfort and adjusted yourself in your seat, hoping the change in position would take away the feeling. The pressure and seating changed helped for a few moments, allowing you to recompose yourself, but when another wave made its way across again, you realized what you were experiencing; a contraction.

“Please, little one,” you whispered, “just wait a little longer. Just a few more days, please, my little love.” Your hand rested along the tender spot of your belly as you pleaded with your child, begging them to wait until Halsin’s return. Another mild contraction rippled across, seemingly lighter this time. You prayed to the Oak Father that this was simply false labor and could still be allotted a few more days to wait for Halsin. He had been gone much longer than the promised ten-day and your faith in him returning in time for the birth was dwindling rapidly.

You also offered a quick, silent prayer to Silvanus that Halsin would return and soon. He needed to be here; he deserved it. Halsin had expressed his excitement about the child to you in the months prior, the smile on his face had never been so big as he spoke of wanting to hold the baby in his arms with you by his side. He had also confided that he never realized just how badly he wanted a child of his own until he had figured out that you were pregnant. Centuries of duty and responsibility had barred him from starting his own little family, and given that he was the only surviving member of his family, he had come to terms with being the last of his line. But now that you were expecting, he was overjoyed with the idea of his very own little one running around.

And this excitement was present in everything he had done in the months since. Halsin put in a labor of love to hand craft a crib from the finest wood of the area, carving and engraving as if it would be his lasting masterpiece to this world. He had whittled toys for the child from similar wood and you always found him carving away when there was downtime and had started nesting almost immediately. There was a newfound youth and spring in his step that had only increased the closer you came to your delivery date. He no longer treated every day as if he was an old man pining for missed opportunities. Now, he was a young man bursting at the seams with anticipation.

Along with this, he made sure that you wanted for nothing, until now at least. Right now, you wanted him home. Halsin deserved the chance to witness the birth of the child and be the first one to hold them in a loving embrace. You knew that was what he wanted as well. You both had been adamant that when the time came for your labor to begin, he would be there by your side to help in any capacity, but also be the one to deliver the child into the world. He was an accomplished healer so anything that could threaten either of your lives could be remedied by him, but also for the simple fact that he wanted to be there for every step.

To see nature in action in welcoming the first bit of new life into this once barren wasteland would be euphoric to him; added satisfaction because it was his child that would break the curse of death in the lands. But, more selfishly, you wanted him home because you were terrified to give birth alone. However, given the circumstances and the new pain shooting across your abdomen, it was becoming more and more likely that your greatest fear would become a reality.

**********************************************************************************************************

With a huff and more effort than you’d like to admit, you seated yourself on one of the old stumps by the market, your basket of collected produce dropping to the ground. Your fingers rubbed against the side of your belly, trying to coax whatever limb was sitting in your ribcage to move to a more comfortable position, your eyes closing at the momentary reprieve. Much to your relief and praise, the pains you had felt the night prior were merely symptoms of false labor and not the actual act, although the discomfort you’d felt since was never ceasing. By this point, your belly had dropped and you had a much harder time moving around, signaling that you were rapidly nearing the end of your pregnancy. And as much as you wanted Halsin home for the birth, you were also ready for the experience to be over. Movement was difficult and mostly unpleasant and you had become reliant on others for usually simple tasks; something you were not overly fond of.

What was supposed to be a quick trip to the market for food ended up taking much longer than expected. Frequent breaks and rests were needed just to get through the sizable market and by the time you had finished, you were exhausted. With the evening sun now low in the sky, you were ready for a warm bath and the comfort of your bed. Reluctantly, you’d decided to skip the communal dinner and story time with the children to simply retire early. Nesting had taken root in the past weeks, urging you to have everything ready and perfect for the arrival of your little one. Now that you were there and satisfied with the state of everything in your home, the only thing you wanted now was to rest and wait. However, the peacefulness of the late afternoon was quickly interrupted by stirring sounds in the distance.

Your eyes shot open and head turned as you heard the increasingly encroaching sounds of commotion coming from the edge of town. You felt fear grip your heart, unsure if the sounds were of the people you now considered your family or an another onslaught of Absolutists assaulting your home. Your eyes darted around, scanning anything and anyone that moved in an attempt to get a feel for the situation. You saw people, children included, rushing towards the entrance to your home, but fear was not an emotion present. The sense of urgency in the crowd wasn’t from the need to escape, but the need to embrace. It wasn’t until you saw familiar faces filtering in past the people of the realm that you realized why there was such a fuss at the gates.

The scouting party had returned.

You felt your heartbeat quicken as you tried to lift yourself from the tree stump, cursing yourself for the amount of time it took recently for you to come to your feet after sitting for too long. You groaned softly when you finally managed to get up, leaving your basket of procured produce at the base of the stump as you made your way towards the gates as quickly as you body would allow. Due to the size of your belly, your speed was anything but swift and your walk was more of a waddle, but nevertheless you hastened your steps the closer you came to the gate. You held your breath, pausing to both rest and scan the crowd for Halsin. Given his height, he would be easy to see standing a head and shoulders taller than anyone else nearby.

Your held breath released when your eyes finally landed on Halsin, who had already been swarmed by every child that now dwelled in these lands. You laughed as he was surrounded by dozens upon dozens of excited children, some going to far as to latch onto his limbs in an attempt to pull him to the ground. Nothing was malicious, of course. You had frequently seen the children swarm Halsin while in bear form and after almost two months of being gone, they had certainly missed their favorite shapeshifting druid. You watched as the elf tried his best to greet each child or give them a pat to their head, but also noticed he kept looking around him, searching for someone particular in the crowd of people beginning to form around the returned scouting party.

“You’re quite popular for someone who came to supper so late.” You teased as you waddled your way to him, weaving through half the children of the realm in the process. Your voice instantly grabbed his attention, his head whipping around to where you stood, the biggest smile you’d seen from him quickly gracing his features as he drank your from in. Halsin attempted to make his way through the onslaught of children, but had to yield until he’d said hello to each and every one. You didn’t mind waiting; just seeing him in front of you after so long was enough to sate your worries. When the final child had departed and scampered off with the rest, Halsin held out his hand to you and pulled you to him, the feeling of your hand in his taking his breath away.

“Look at you,” Halsin said breathily as he cupped your cheeks with his hands, “By Silvanus, you’re more beautiful each time I set my eyes upon you. Are you certain you’re not a deity disguised as a mortal? Sent from the heavens themselves? Kiss me, my heart, and let me know that you are real.” His lips were on yours in an instant and the feel of them sent your mind spinning. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest, excitement, relief, and a dozen other sensations were swirling in your mind as you finally felt the kiss of your lover on you after so long.

You finally pulled from Halsin’s lips when the last bit of remaining air had been sucked from your lungs, leaving them burning, but you gaze never faltered. You felt hot tears begin to prickle the corners of your eyes as your lip quivered, your words sticking in your throat as you voice threatened to crack. Happy tears, of course, but with the amount of hormones swirling through your bloodstream, you soon found yourself sobbing with a wide smile spread across your face.

You forcefully pulled the druid into a hug before he had time to soothe your tears. Your arms firmly wrapped around his neck as you stood on you the tips of your toes to embrace him. His size being one factor that made hugging difficult, but the swell of your pregnant belly almost keeping you at arms length. You felt Halsin’s hand snake along your back as the other wormed its way into your hair; holding the back of your head as he pressed your frame to his as best as possible. His lips made contact with the top of your head and you melted into his embrace.

“Are you all right, my heart?” He asked with a slight chuckle, finding your surge of emotions amusing. You felt his nose nuzzle against the crown of your head, taking in your distinct scent that he had so greatly missed.

“Gods yes,” you said through a few remaining sniffles, “now that you’re back. I was so afraid you wouldn’t come home.”

“I’m here,” he said against your hair as his hand slowly ran along your backside, “I’m here.”

You stood together in each others embrace for a long while, simply enjoying the feel of each other after months apart. Your head settled to his chest, your ear pressed against him so you could hear the steady thumping of his heart beneath you. It was something tangible and real to keep you grounded and reminded you that this was real and not simply a luxurious daydream you were having while napping in the summer sun. Despite the seemingly slim odds and your own reservations, Halsin had proven you wrong and returned home before the birth of your child. And with this, you had never been so happy to be wrong in your life.

“How lucky I am,” Halsin said proudly, “to have the most beautiful creation of nature in my arms again. I’ve longed to set my eyes on you again, my heart.” He took a step back, still clutching your hand in his, and took his time in observing you. You felt a slight flush begin to rush to your cheeks, but quickly pool in your abdomen at his lingering stare. The slightest of smirks settled along his lips as his gaze washed over your heavily extended belly and you felt chill bumps form along your arms and the back of your neck as his fingers grazed over the swell. It wasn’t long before he pulled you to him again, his eyes ever so slightly darker as his eyes settled on the plushness of your lips.

“You must be starving.” You said after you’d heard a rumble from deep within his chest. Although you weren’t entirely sure if he was ravished for a bite to eat or something a bit more pleasurable.

“Famished,” Halsin panted as his lips caught your cheek, “although the only thing I have an appetite for is standing here in front of me.” Halsin’s voice was low as he spoke against your ear, his lips quickly descending upon your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. Your skin prickled again at his words, filling you with excitement.

“There are others watching.” You whispered as you glanced around the crowd. You didn’t catch the first glance your way, but you would have preferred more intimate touches to be in the comfort of your home or even in a secluded section of nature.

“I don’t think it’s much of a secret as to what we’ve been up to.” He chuckled as he ran his palm along the expanse of your abdomen and settle along your hips.

“Behave.” You whispered playfully before Halsin’s lips were on yours once again, heated and hungry. Soft growls escaped his lips as he deepened the kiss, lovingly assaulting your lips with tongue and teeth, the intensity behind it mirroring the passion displayed the first night you spent together while on the road to Baldur’s Gate. Your kiss was short lived and broken when the dull ache that had been present in your lower back for the better part of a week flared up again, causing you to grimace and groan as you attempted to stretch out the cramp.

“Are you truly all right?” He asked after you had parted, “Anything I can do, please, tell me.”

“I am,” you said as you stretched your back a final time to alleviate the ache, “just a bit sore is all.”

“Then let’s head for home, my heart.” He said as the grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly, “I do believe I have a remedy for such matters.”

“Are you sure?” you asked as you felt Halsin gently begin to walk to you backwards in the direction of your home, “I’m sure there are others who would wish to welcome you back and there is still supper over the fire. I can’t hog you all to myself, as nice as that sounds.”

“Festivities and greetings can wait.” He said before stealing another kiss from your lips, “There will be plenty of time to enjoy the company of everyone later. But right now the center of my world needs attending to.”

**********************************************************************************************************

“More?” Halsin’s voice was low in your ear and you could feel the smirk on his lips as he kissed along your jawline.

“In a moment, my love,” you said between heavy breaths, “certain activities are a bit more labor intensive for someone with my condition.” Your head rested on his broad chest as you slowly came down from your peak, your body trembling slightly at the exertion you weren’t used to.

You both sat together in your bed, clothes having been discarded the moment you entered the room, with your limbs and bodies tangled together to feel as much of the other against yourselves as you could. Given the size of your belly, you sat beside Halsin, but faced him as best you could. Your legs were draped over his lap, legs intertwined with each other as he held you close to him. His arms were wrapped around you securely, both occupied with separate motions. One of his large arms focused solely on holding you close to him. His hand pressed lightly on your upper back while his fingers toyed with the hair along the nape of your neck, causing chills at the softest of touches.

The other, which had previously been focused on your pleasure, had begun to run along the swell of your hip and down your leg until reaching the knee and returning again. He applied pressure as his fingers slowly traced along your skin, relieving some of the tension your muscles held from carrying the weight of your child. His lips remained at your neck, kissing ever so slowly along the column of your throat and down to your shoulder before returning. His touch was soft and intimate, a contrast to the fast and almost feral movements from earlier, but both were filled with nothing but love and admiration for the moment you could finally share after his long absence.

You bit your lower lip softly to suppress a moan as his fingers found a particularly tight muscle on the underside of your thigh, your sounds causing his fingers to stay and work out the knot. Halsin pulled his lips away from the earlobe he’d been nibbling on and worked his way along your jaw until his lips met yours, kissing them tenderly before coaxing you to part your lips.

“Let me hear you, my heart,” Halsin whispered to you, “I’ve gone far too long without hearing the sound of your voice. I want to hear every melodious whimper and cry that comes from your lips.”

“You’ll hear it in due time, don’t worry about that.” You said as you relaxed more into his embrace, your head resting by his shoulder, “Gods, how I’ve missed you.” Your fingers lightly traced along the muscles of his abdomen, noting that they had become slightly leaner in his time away.

“You won’t have to worry about us parting for long again, my heart. That I can assure you.” His hand made its way to the lower half of your legs, repeating the same motions as before in the expanse that rested between your knee and ankle.

“Mmm good. Tell me everything,” you said as you lightly pecked at his chest with your lips, your fingers still ghosting across his abdomen, “the children aren’t the only ones who have missed your stories.”

In the excitement of his return and the time taken to make up for lost kisses and sensual embraces, you hadn’t had the chance to ask what had taken the trip much longer than expected. And as much as you’d rather sit and continue becoming reacquainted with each other, the survivor in you wanted to ensure that everything was indeed safe. You knew Halsin wouldn’t have returned if a threat still remained, but you wanted to hear it from his lips; you wanted the confirmation. Curiosity was also getting the better of you when trying to determine how Halsin felt about the trip. As you knew, Halsin was partial to roaming instead of staying in one area for too long. Of course he’d stayed in the Grove for well over a century, but it was out of duty and he admitted himself that he left as often as he could to explore the expanse of nature.

Since the fall of the Absolute and the settlement of the realm you now called home, neither of you had been away for a single day; the one exception being the small reunion with your companions that had been organized by Withers not too long ago. So, now that Halsin had the chance to be on the road again and step away from the duties of your home, you were wondering if he maybe would like to indulge in more travels once your little one was born. You weren’t opposed to the idea of traveling again, but admittedly you had grown rather fond of your little settlement and traveling with a newborn was less than ideal.

“We found the camp of goblins the scouts had discovered before we left,” Halsin’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, “it was small, not well defended, easily taken care of. If that had been the only problem I could have turned to you in less than a week.” With your head still resting on his chest, you turned to catch his glance, the story piquing your interest.

“I take it you found more.” You said softly, your question being answered simply by the look of exhaustion hiding behind his eyes.

“Dozens of other encampments spanning far across the area,” he pulled his hand from your leg to wave it in the air as he spoke, “they varied in size, but none were too large. Never had any serious injuries, Oak Father be praised. Well, no serious injuries for us; I can’t say the same about any cultists we found.” He chuckled softly with his statement, his hand returning to caress your legs still seated in his lap.

“I wanted to return,” he continued, “more than anything, but it was too large a threat. Of course they didn’t pose the threat that the Absolute did, but they still held the viciousness that the infected once had. There was always the possibility that more would return to us, like the ones that made the foolhardy attempt and lost their lives because of it. Or these fanatics could threaten other people, other communities even. They may have been small in number, but left unchecked it could have easily grown.”

“You did the right thing, love.” You murmured before reaching up to place a soft kiss to his cheek. You could sense the guilt weighing on him, the look on his face giving it away. As much as you selfishly would have wanted him to stay home with you, you knew in your gut that by sacrificing a few months apart would be worth the cost if it meant protecting your home and those around it.

“I know, and I don’t regret it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel some sense of guilt in leaving you.” You felt him you pull you closer as if you could slip away if he didn’t keep a firm grip to your frame.

“I’ll have you know that I defeated an entire Netherbrain not that long ago. I think I’m capable of taking care of myself.” You teased as you wrapped your arms around Halsin’s neck, your hands finding purchase in his hair.

“Oh I know you are, my heart, but you also weren’t close to delivering a child when you did so.” You felt his touch softly travel along your stomach, almost tickling with the faintness of his touch, “I kept track of the days as best I could. A few days got lost with travel, but I was able to keep track of them well. I grew more anxious the longer we stayed. I had practically convinced myself that by the time I returned you would have already given birth. I’ve never been more thankful to Silvanus than I was when I saw that you hadn’t.”

“Admittedly, there were a few close calls.” Your voice was quiet, “I was sure that just last night would be the time.” Halsin caught your gaze, the idea of him missing the birth by a few hours had briefly shaken him, but quickly dissipated as he spoke again.

“Although the cultists aren’t the only reason you don’t have to fret about me departing.” Your brows came together when you realized what he meant, the idea novel to your perception of him.

“You didn’t enjoy your journey otherwise? I would have thought you would enjoy seeing nature outside of our little realm.” You said with a slight tilt to your head.

“Oh I did, and I always will, of course, but the journey was abysmal. I found myself longing for this place we call home the moment I stepped foot out of the realm. My heart ached to return here; to return to you. You were my first waking thought every morning and the last image my mind would settle on before resting for the evening. I may have been away from you, but in my dreams we were here together, with our little one, truly living.” Halsin’s forehead quickly came into contact with yours and you quickly felt him nuzzle into your touch. You both closed your eyes, simply enjoying the touch of the other.

“I thought roaming was…in your nature?” You said with a wave of your hands, struggling to remember just how he had phrased it to you long ago.

“It is,” he said with a chuckle at your attempts to use his own words against him, “but lately I’ve craved it less and less. Roam our lands, yes, but to venture much farther out of it, not so much. It’s still there, buried deep, but I would much rather stay here. Stay with the life we’ve built, with the people we’ve bonded with and the children of course, but I want to be here by your side.”

“Why the change?” You were surprised by his answer. For as long as you’d known the druid, you knew he was always partial to roaming. Staying in one place for very long was out of the ordinary for him. You’d always considered him to be restless, but now you were beginning to think there was more to the behavior.

“Straying showed me just how deep my roots have settled. I’ve never really had them take hold like this, but it’s a welcomed thought. Emerald Grove was my place of dwelling for a long while, but it never truly felt like home. There was always the looming weight of responsibility and leadership. I’d never truly felt wanted or like I belonged. I don’t feel that here, however. Here, I feel like I am where I’m meant to be.”

With a gentle tug, Halsin urged you to change your seating. You untangled your legs from his and let him move you to where he wanted you. You found yourself now fully seated in his lap, legs straddling the expanse of his hips as your belly pressed against the muscles of his abdomen. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, allowing himself a clear view of your face. You knew him well enough by now to know when he was on the verge of something deeply sentimental and even vulnerable; always wanting to look you intimately in the eyes as he laid his heart bare for you. He gripped your chin lightly with his thumb and forefinger, bringing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before speaking.

“I was lost before you came bounding into my life.” Halsin said softly, “Lost, miserable, lonely. The burdens of the everything had gotten to me, started eating away at my spirit. I had resigned myself to my fate while in the goblin camp. I was certain I would die there, although it wouldn’t be without a fight. I knew no one was coming for me. No one from the grove would dare step foot in that encampment. But then here you come. Without a sliver of doubt in your voice you defended a lone, blood thirsty bear in a cage. You cut down the goblins and their leaders and granted me my freedom.”

“You defended the grove I called home, despite the politics festering in its heart having nothing to do with you. You didn’t have to protect the tieflings or show the corruption of Kagha, but you did. From the goodness of your heart you did what was right.” Halsin pressed a finger to the center of your chest, tapping your skin lightly as he continued.

“Not only that, but by letting me journey with you from that moment on you saved me from a fruitless leadership what was eating away at my soul. I’ve said this before, but I was losing myself. Forgetting who I was or why I fought for the things I did. But you lifted the veil from my eyes and showed me compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You never questioned my beliefs or personal politics. And you never have. You’ve been nothing but accepting and open minded. Especially after the mishap with the beast.” The ghost of embarrassment quickly crossed his features and you soothed the feelings away with the touch of your hand.

You smiled at the thought, your mind instantly going back to the first night you shared together. In the heat of the moment, Halsin had lost control of the bear inside him, wild shaping at an inopportune time. You recalled the moment that immediately followed once he had shifted back, your mind focusing on the embarrassment and shame that had come over him for losing control. He had apologized profusely and had fully expected you to turn him away or even be angry with him. But you understood that he meant no harm in the act; it was purely accidental. If anything, you felt more flattered that he had gotten worked up enough simply by looking at your naked form that he temporarily lost control of himself. You had reassured him that everything was all right in that moment. Your mind then shifted to the look of happiness and relief that had come across him when you did so; a look very similar to the one he was giving you now.

“You were willing to sacrifice yourself countless times to save Thaniel and lift the curse that once plagued these lands. You went out of your way to help me do something I was unable to do in a century. You saved these lands, my heart. You brought the light back to this place we now come home. Then at the end of it all, you turned down a life of fame and glory and chose me. Of all the people who are in your life, you chose me. That is still baffling, but I bask in your choice every day. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t thank the Oak Father for sending you to me. You are a gift. You are a blessing.” Halsin kissed you again, still lovingly running his hands along your body.

Gods, how you loved this man. And his love for you was ever present and seemed to grow with each passing day. You were rendered speechless, unsure how to respond at such a confession. Your lips continued to meet, slow and deep, as you whispered your feelings of love between each touch of the lips. Eventually, you came to a stop and Halsin spoke again.

“I was terrified that we wouldn’t return in time,” Halsin said after a period of silence, his voice soft and gentle, “That I wouldn’t return to you in time when you needed me most. After everything you have done for me since I’ve know you, I was so afraid that I would fail you when you needed me.”

“So was I,” you admitted as you took his hand in yours and placed it atop your belly, “but don’t dwell on it anymore, my love. You’re home and safe. And any day now we can welcome this darling little one into this world we’ve created. Together.”

“I’m sorry, my heart.” Halsin pressed his lips to the crown of your belly as if seeking forgiveness.

“Don’t apologize,” you said as you pulled his head from your abdomen and softly stroked his cheek with the back of your hand, “You did what was necessary. You kept our home safe; I should be thanking you instead of you apologizing to me. But we can discuss niceties later. After all, we have plenty of other things we could be doing now that we’re together again.”

“Tell me.” He said simply. You felt his hand knead along the soft expanse of your hips, increasing in intensity the more you lingered with your response.

“For starters, we have a chance to steal a few more moments like this for ourselves,” you said softly while slowly dragging the tip of your finger along his ear, “we have a lot to catch up on.” You felt Halsin’s skin prickle along his neck at your ministrations, the sensitivity of his ears always being a weak spot, and you heard a low growl come from deep within his chest and caught the faintest glow of gold sparkle in his eyes.

**********************************************************************************************************

“Easy now, love,” Halsin said in an attempt to calm your nerves, “you’ve got this. Focus on me, all right?” You tried to make sense of what he was telling you, but you could only focus on the pain tearing through your body. Your grip on his hands threatened to break his bones, but he held on firmly without wavering. He was knelt in front of you, his hands grasped firmly in yours as you reclined as best you could in your pile of pillows and blankets, gritting through your teeth as you endured another contraction. You had been laboring for hours, enduring steadily increasing contractions and labor pains with no actual progress being made. You were exhausted and weak; walking the fine line between enduring and giving up.

Sweat poured from your brow and ran down your temples and neck, settling on your heaving chest. It burned against the heat of your skin, adding yet another layer of discomfort to your current state of being. The night was unusually warm, the slight breeze occasionally blowing through the open window provided no relief; just another wave of warm air against your body. The faintest dribble of tears fell from your clenched eyes, mingling with the sweat covering your face.

When your current wave of pain subsided, you released your grip on Halsin’s hands and flopped back onto your mound of pillows, an exasperated sigh coming from your lips. Your limbs were shaking from exertion and pain and your mind was foggy. Taking the opportunity to tend to you during a brief period of reprieve, Halsin dipped a cloth in a bowl of cool water, wringing it out before wiping it across your brow gently. Your forehead, upper lip, neck, chest, or anything that was saturated with sweat and tears were cleaned gently, the coolness of cloth providing a few seconds of relief.

“Almost two days of this and nothing to show.” You said between pants, your eyes transfixed on the ceiling as you tried to regain some control of your breathing, “This is more difficult than that damned frog.”

“You’ll have to elaborate, my love.” Halsin said as his head raised to meet you, finding your thoughts to be a bit questionable, given the circumstances. Your mind had suddenly focused to the story you told the children only a few days ago; the one that detailed the perilous battle between yourself and the swamp frog. You focused on how you felt after the battle and how difficult it had been, being unsure if you would see it to the end. You had questioned if you would live to see another day after watching your companions fall one by one to something that seemed so simple.

Instead of being comforted by the knowledge of knowing you had survived a difficult battle, you couldn’t help but focus on the feeling of hopelessness and defeat that came with both the frog and the current status of your labor. Child birth had seemed so simple when you first discovered you were with child; too overwhelmed by the thoughts of being able to hold your little one in your arms and being impatient to do so. But now you felt the weight of your labor settle upon you and the doubts it caused in your mind. Much like your experience with the frog, you truly weren’t sure if you or your child would see things through to the end. After all, the frog ultimately died by your hand. You were tired. So, so tired. Hours had come and gone and nothing had changed. Instead, you were dancing precariously close to the edge of not having the strength to continue.

“I’ll tell you the story later.” You said after a period of silence. “I don’t know if I can…” Your voice tapered off, beginning to crack as tears threatened to fall from your eyes again.

“You can, my heart.” Halsin said firmly, “You’re stronger than you think. The savior of Baldur’s Gate didn’t fall to the might of a netherbrain and will not fall to this.” Despite the firmness in his voice, you could sense his own fears. As experienced as he was in healing, he knew that you were not faring well. Your child should have long been delivered by now and the complications you were facing were greater than either of you had anticipated. You could see the slight tremble to his usually sturdy hands whenever he brought the cool cloth to your head or to brush a sweat slicked lock of hair from your cheeks. There was genuine fear behind his eyes; a fear for you as well as your unborn little one that was refusing to come into the world.

“And if I can’t? What then?” You asked as your eyes left their spot on the ceiling and looked to the druid. His answer was cut short as another shooting pain coursed through you, causing a pained yell to escape your lips as your tears finally fell from your eyes. Halsin’s hands found yours once again as you writhed through your pain. He clung to you tightly, desperate to anchor you back to reality. The overwhelming urge to push surged through you once again and you complied, mustering all of your strength in an effort to finally make the child begin to crest. Your eyes clenched shut as a ragged cry spilled from your throat, your nails digging into Halsin’s hands hard enough to break skin.

“We can focus on that when the times comes, if it does, my heart. But for now, do not let your mind linger on the darkness. You can do this. I will be here with you for every second, love. Let that ease your mind.” Halsin said softly after you had relaxed again, hands still shaking within his own. As Halsin released your grip and returned to his previous seat in front of you, his hands lightly squeezing along your calves and up your thighs, coaxing your body to relax when it could.

“Relax yourself when things are calm,” he continued as he kept massaging your taught muscles, “it’ll help save your strength.” You nodded in response, inhaling deeply before slowly releasing the breath along with the grip you had on the lower half of your body.

“Stubborn little cub, aren’t they?” You huffed with a quick laugh, running your fingers through your sweat soaked hair.

“Already taking after you, I see.” Halsin teased as he dipped a cloth in the cool water again and you knocked him playfully with your knee at the comment. He left his place between your parted legs and joined you by your side, lightly dabbing the cloth across your flushed skin again. You leaned into his touch, taking a moment to breathe deeply and exhale slowly again as you relished the moment of reprieve from the labor pains.

“You’ve assisted births before, haven’t you?” You asked after a moment, your breath still shaky and uneven.

“Plenty,” he said calmly as he continued to wipe your skin of sweat, “I witnessed the birth of nearly half the children of Emerald Grove. Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious,” you said as you felt the beginning twinges of another wave of contractions begin to cluster on one side, “as to how I’m doing in comparison to those you’ve seen.

“Don’t compare yourself to others, my heart. All birthing stories will be different and there’s no point in comparing. You’re doing well for now. There have been smoother births, I will admit, but I’ve also seen much worse. Focus on the now and don’t bother with the past.” Halsin pressed his lips to your temple, lingering momentarily until he felt you tense once again.

The contractions were stronger and more frequent now, seemingly coming every minute. Each minute that passed and each pain-filled wave that coursed through your body made you weaker. You were exhausted. With Halsin still by your side, you desperately gripped his arm for something to brace with. Your fingers dug into his skin, surely to bruise by the following morning, but you would take time to apologize later. Right now, your head was pounding and your vision blurred from agony as your body writhed in its place. You felt the air almost sucked out of your lungs at a new sensation. Not necessarily pain, although it wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings, but an unmoving weight you now felt in your groin.

“Please tell me something happened,” you groaned as a new and intense pressure sat on the lowest part of your abdomen, “this feels different.” Your voice shook as did your hands, your breath coming in quick, short pants. Halsin left your side after prying your fingers from his arm, gently placing your own appendage beside you as he once again came to the foot of the bed. He settled between your legs, parting your trembling legs slightly so he could get a better look at the state of your birth. You watched him intensely, hoping to see any sign of change on his features. You were rewarded with a look of surprise as his eyes widened ever so slightly and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Focus, my heart,” he said quickly, “you’re almost there.” Halsin blindly fumbled his hand along the bed, his fingers desperate to grab a clean towel or blanket, his eyes never leaving your body in the process. The sudden lack of dexterity from him betrayed his feelings. His exterior was his usual calm self, soothing voice and all, but the frantic movements and the slight tremble to his hands indicated either excitement or fear for what was happening. Although you couldn’t be sure as to which.

“A good change, then?” You asked cautiously, almost afraid to hear his answer.

“Oh yes, very good indeed. For now, just focus on what your body tells you. A few more pushes and you’ll be done.” He offered you one hand to hold onto, the other needed for assistance below your waist. You gripped the offered hand as firmly as your weakened body would allow, holding on until you felt another wave of pain wash through you. With gritted teeth and clenched eyes, you felt your body contract and restrict, desperately trying to push your child from your body. You felt another shift in the new pressure, still present, but not as heavy. In your pain driven haze, you weren’t quite sure what you were feeling, but it felt like the progress you’d been hoping to see for nearly a day.

You loosened your hand around his as your body slumped back into the pillows behind you, your breath even more ragged and exhausted. Sweat poured down your face and body, mixing with a fresh set of tears as you skin flushed from exertion. You needed to rest. To gather your strength for the last leg of your labor, but your body wouldn’t allow it. Almost immediately you felt the rising waters of pain sweeping across your stomach, your head shaking as you begged and pleaded with Halsin for relief. Unfortunately, any sort of assisted magic or pain relief would have to wait until after the birth, the impacts of such treatments on a baby being detrimental, so you had been forced to endure two days of pain in waiting for the arrival of your child.

“Look at me, love.” His grip on your hand tightening to grab your attention, “You need just one more. One big push and I can get you something to ease the pain. Can you do that for me?” Your tired eyes met his, your lids half closed and filled with tears. Reluctantly, you nodded.

With a deep breath and adjusting your hand within Halsin’s, you pushed once again, giving every bit of remain strength into the movement. Your other hand reached up to claw into Halsin’s forearm, your body almost lifting from the bed at the force behind your movements. As your legs and body began to tremble, you felt another change. A welcomed relief from the hours of agony you’d faced recently. The pressure was gone, the cramping had subsided, and you were utterly spent. You released yourself from his arm as you once again fell back into your pillows, your legs going slack from their bent position.

“No more,” you sobbed, “I can’t do anymore.” Your chest heaved with your cries, tears now streaming freely from your eyes as you continued to beg your lover. You were met with silence, something that made your nerves tighten.

“Halsin.” His name softly fell from your lips as you searched for reassurance, “Halsin, I can’t-” Your statements was cut short, but not with the response you expected. Instead of the deep, booming voice of your lover, you were instead met with a tiny, unfamiliar cry. Your head craned upwards to find the source of the cry, only to fall back as Halsin’s frame suddenly came over you. You watched in disbelief as he quickly opened the laces to your tunic, pulling them back to expose your chest to the warm air. Before you could utter another word, the druid placed a small, crying baby against your chest. Your baby.

“Well done, my heart.” He beamed as he covered the still wet and connected child with a warm blanket, “You’ve done so well, but let me take over for now.” He took your hand in his and placed it along the back of your child, sensing the slight shock you were still in before quickly leaving you with your baby to attend to your wounds.

“By the gods.” You whispered as your senses finally returned to you. Parental nature quickly snapping into place as you bundled the child in the blanket even more, covering their exposed head and tucking their arms under the warmth. You soothed them softly as they continued to cry, happiness coursing through you as they continued to take deep lungfuls of air. With the edge of the blanket, you gently cleaned their face of afterbirth, gently shushing with each stroke. Tears streamed down your face, but the meaning behind them had changed. What were tears of agony and bargaining had turned to tears of unconfined happiness.

Despite the pain and agony you’d endured for days, you felt almost none of it as you cradled your child in your arms. The feeling of holding this small, tiny newborn against you had made the labor worth it. You were overjoyed, if not still in shock, as you softly pressed your lips to the forehead of your still crying baby. A feeling of unimaginable love washed over you, soothing your aches and pains and replaced those feelings with bliss.

**********************************************************************************************************

When the excitement from the birth had calmed and you had gotten settled in your bed, you finally felt the exhaustion from the previous days settle in your bones. Despite the immediate healing potions you’d consumed and spells that had been conjured offered you temporary relief and mending, your body would still need time to heal and adjust; magic could only do so much. Although that was admittedly a thought you’d pushed to the back of your mind for now as your mind was consumed by nothing but the small bundle nestled closely to your chest.

You yawned deeply, trying your best to stay awake to take in every sweet moment you could with your newly delivered little one. They were pressed against you, taking their first feeding from you since the delivery, as you observed every little detail they offered. Admittedly, you were surprised with just how small they were, considering the sheer looming size Halsin presented and just how hard you had labored, you’d anticipated a rather large baby. Instead, your child was remarkably tiny, but perfectly healthy. The labor had been agonizing and painful, but you found that the reward that came from your efforts was far greater than any amount of discomfort or pain you had tolerated. In this moment, everything was perfect and you wanted nothing more than to spend eternity cradling your child.

“Hello there, little one.” You whispered as their eyes opened briefly, placing a soft kiss to the forehead. A beautiful mixture of green and gold swirled in their eyes, a coloring that was distinctly Halsin’s, and were framed by unusually long lashes. For a moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his own, a pleasant warmth spreading across your chest. You gently ran your finger along the short distance from their forehead to the tip of their nose, marveling at just how soft their skin was, before brushing a few strands of hair to the side. Tiny ears came to the most perfect of points and twitched slightly at the warm breeze lazily coming through the window.

Once they had their fill, you gently wiped their mouth with the edge of the blanket before settling them back high on your chest and surrounding them in warmth. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you heard the tiny grunts and mewls coming from your newborn, already finding it to be your favorite sound in the world. You felt their small hand grasp at your skin and you quickly offered a finger to the baby, smiling when you saw the tiny fingers barely wrap around your slender digit. You adored the tiny fingers in your grasp, softly placing another kiss to them before returning them under the blanket. Euphoria and bliss were the only words you could use to describe how you felt, but they paled in comparison to the true feelings swirling in your chest.

Halsin’s fingers gently lifting your chin broke you from your trance-like staring, bringing you back to the present. You offered him a tired smile as you met his gaze, longing for him to join the two of you for a long rest. Moments after you had given birth and had a crying newborn pressed against your chest, Halsin made healing you a priority. The anguish that had firmly gripped his heart as he could do nothing but watch as you struggled with the birth set the healer in him ablaze. He couldn’t help you in the moment, but he would go to the ends of Faerún to help you now.

Healing incantations and prayers spilled from his lips as soon as possible, desperately trying to alleviate your pain and close your wounds. His hands were steady once again as he hovered them over your spent body, swirling tendrils of blue and gold washing over you and filling you with a soothing warmth. He wasted no time in pressing the mouth of a healing potion bottle to your lips, slowly tipping the contents into your mouth as you started to shake the cloudiness from your mind. He praised you with every sentence that left his lips, not only telling you how well you had done and how strong you were, but also thanking you for everything you had done for him and your newly born baby.

Once the color had returned to your face and the dark circles from around your eyes had finally subsided, you heard him breath a sigh of relief before continuing on. He quickly turned to cleaning both you and the baby as best as he could for the time being, delicately running a cloth of warm water across the child’s skin and hair until they were clean before wrapping them in a blanket that had been warmed by a fire. Before you could preotest to his doting, he did the same to you. Gently cleaning the sweat from your face and chest as well as any birthing mess from the rest of you, still praising your efforts with each swipe of the cloth.

When he had expended as many spells as he could and was certain you were leagues away from danger and comfortable in your bed, he had offered you a slow kiss to your forehead as he left briefly to brew a tea for you; something to ease any aches as well as provide some nourishment to your tired body until he could put a soup over the fire. And now he had returned, a steaming cup of a sweet smelling tea in his grasp and a contented smile on his lips.

“Join me,” you said softly as he placed the cup on the bedside table, “come say hello.” Without needing further encouragement, the druid climbed in on your opposite side, trying to be as gentle as possible to avoid waking the baby as well as avoid jostling your still sore body more than what was necessary.

“You should rest, my heart.” Halsin murmured in your ear, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as his fingers lazily scratched at your scalp, offering the lightest of kisses to your temple, “And the tea should help. I hope it does.” You nodded in agreement, the idea of a long rest sounded heavenly.

“I do believe it’s your turn for a cuddle, my love,” you said after Halsin had finally settled, “a little bit of bonding while things are still calm.” You adjusted your position, sitting up slowly to avoid agitating your freshly made wounds.

“I’m almost afraid to,” he confessed, “I wasn’t expecting such a tiny little cub.” You chuckled at the comment, taking note that Halsin’s hands were almost large enough to engulf the child, but knew that his hands were the safest place they could be.

“Neither was I,” you admitted as you gently supported the baby’s head with your hand, “but you know I trust you.” You slowly pulled the child from your chest, leaning forward a bit to help with the process, so you could easily pass the baby to your lover.

With a delicate touch, Halsin took the sleeping child from your grasp as if he was holding the most fragile of flowers, and gently eased them towards him. He stopped briefly before placing the child on his chest, taking a moment to admire their features and softly kiss their plump cheek. Halsin had been the first one to touch the infant at delivery and had helped you with cleaning them, but this was the first moment where he could take his time and cradle the baby to his frame, bare skin to bare skin. Your child gave the tiniest of whimpers at the movement, but quickly quieted down again once Halsin pressed their chest to his.

“You look content, my love.” You said as you took your tea from the table, sipping slowly to avoid burning your mouth before returning it to the table. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the look of absolute joy and bliss spread across Halsin’s face, your own heart melting at the sight. His eyes had grown soft and ever so slightly wet, the lightest traces of tears forming on his waterline. Once the child had adjusted to the new position, Halsin rested his back along the headboard and allowed his body to relax. With one hand still on the child, he wrapped his other arm around you again, pulling you close to this warm frame and coaxed your heavy head to rest on his chest. You gently touched the tip of your finger to the tiny nose in front of you before pulling a blanket snugly around your shoulders.

“Words cannot describe how I feel,” he said softly, “but, nevertheless, I will try.” You felt his nose nuzzle against the crown of your head, delivering a series of soft kisses into your hair as he pulled you closer to him.

“In the grand scheme of things, I’ve only know you but for a flicker of time, but in that time you have gifted me so many new and wonderful things. You alone have turned my life so much towards the better I couldn’t have ever imagined being here not all that long ago.” His voice was soft as he spoke, his lips still resting along your head.

“On top of everything you’ve done to get us to this moment and the life we live now, you have given us both the gift of this beautiful child here with us now. You brought the first new life into these lands in over a century. And knowing that you chose to bring that life to this world with me by your side? That’s a feeling I can’t describe. Selflessly, you have given me everything and yet I feel as if I haven’t even begun to return the favor. I am eternally indebted to you, my heart.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Halsin. I did everything because I wanted to and out of love. You have given me the gift of happiness and a life worth living. You have no debt, my love.” You said softly as you looked to him, he gaze soft and full of emotion.

“Oh, but I do. You have given me the world and I can only hope I can do the same for you tenfold. You truly do not understand how much of a gift you are, my heart. I don’t know what I’ve done in my life to warrant Silvanus blessing me with you.” His lips were against yours in an instance, but instead of being fueled by lust and longing, they were driven purely by love, adorations, and genuine thankfulness. From his kiss alone, you could feel the love he had for you roaring deep in his chest and it was mirrored by your own.

“You praise me too much, my love.” You said when you parted from his lips, your heart fluttering and your cheeks burning at his words of praise.

“Far from it.” He whispered against your mouth before giving you another gentle kiss.

Halsin pressed his forehead to yours as he lightly tugged you closer, nuzzling against you with a contented sigh. Your eyes closed at his touch, finally allowing yourself a moment of rest while buried in the embrace of your lover. In that moment, you wanted for nothing. Halsin was not only home and safe, but any threat posed by rogue cultists had been eradicated and the place you called home truly was safe. Your prayers had been answered and Halsin had returned in one piece, but returned in time to witness and deliver the child you shared. And here you both sat, wrapped in each other embrace and cradling the small infant you both had so eagerly been waiting to meet. Your heart and mind were practically floating on clouds and nothing you’d ever experienced in life could surpass this moment as you rested your head against Halsin’s chest once again. With a final kiss to your temple and another mewl from the baby, you allowed yourself to drift off to a peaceful sleep, listening to the strong, steady heartbeat of your beloved druid.

Tag List: @incrediblethirst @reignydeys @thoughts-of-bear @im-eating-rn @beardedladyqueen @simplysaying @emorylovescats @distelsterncat @cryingoverpixelsetc @knightofmight01 @seawingqueenconch

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #gender neutral reader #daddy halsin #halsin romance #halsin brainrot #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #halsin fluff #halsin fanfic #pregnancy

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lynnlovesthestars · 7 months

Text

Masterlist- Baldur's Gate 3.

Hello my stars, since my brain went from somewhat sane to "How can I live without Astarion" I decided to put everything I've been posting in a masterpost.

Also I'm opening my requests, right now I'll be writing only about Baldur's Gate, but later I might venture in other fandoms. At the bottom of this masterpost, I'll leave the requests rules.

This being said, whether you are here to look for a treat, or to request your fantasies, what can I do for you?

My prompt list. (currently under maintenance)

Kofi, patreon for those who'd like to tip!

dd:dne infos for those who might be interested in finding out how it works.

Requests questions!

Taglist form. for those who wants to get tagged.

Work in progress page.

Other places where you can find me:

@ask-karlachbear (karlach rp blog) currently inactive, for roleplaying please dm.

@wisterialynn (my oc rp account)

Astarion Acunin:

Scars: Astarion x Reader. Angst. Set in act 3. "When your fears catch up to you"

Blood: Astarion x Reader. Part 2 of scars. Angst, fluff. Set in act 3. "How long does it take to heal those scars?"

One and Only. Astarion x Reader. Smut, fluff, lil of angst. Post act 3. "No one will ever love me like you do"

The sun, the moon and the stars. Astarion x Reader. part 2 of One and Only. Angst, fluff, smut (kinda). Post act 3. "When he thought he couldn't ask for more, you gave him back his freedom."

I wandered lonely as a cloud. Astarion x reader. Hurt, comfort, fluff, eventual smut. Set in act 2. "Let's pretend just for a few hours that we are okay, that we fell in love."

Why? Astarion x reader. Angst, hurt/ comfort, something similar to fluff. "Why? Why? Why?"

-Tick, tack, ah.- Astarion x OC (Lynn). Hurt no comfort.

Amygdala- Astarion x OC (Lynn). fluff, angst, a bit of confort?. "pain comes in many ways"

Serendipity - Astarion x OC (Lynn) fluff?. "astarion was supposed to have a meal and ended up catching feelings- or something like that."

Golden- Astarion x Tiefling!reader. angsty?, lots of thinking, self-doubt, avoidance. "the huge tear in his shirt caught your eye again, and you decided to give him a reminder that someone cared about him." (somewhat pt 2 of "Why")

Avoid- Astarion x Wyll. Angsty. Prompt 11.

Wisteria- Astarion x OC (Lynn). Fluff, smut, angst. Set post game. "In an universe where they don't end up together while tadpoled, Lynn comes to the conclusion that he loves Astarion."

Sleep tight- Astarion x OC (Lynn) fluff.

Lesson One- Astarion x GN!reader. Fluff.

Karlach Cliffgate:

Bedsheets. Karlach x reader. Requested. Fluff. Post act 3. Ticklish adventure.

Wyll Ravengard:

Sleepless. Wyll x Reader. Smut, fluff if you squint. "Everyone is asleep, and all he can think about is not next to him."

Headcanon: anal. Smut.

Something. Wyll x reader x Gale, poly, fluff. They are something.

Avoid Astarion x Wyll. Angsty (check under Astarion)

Seasalt. Wyll x reader, smut

Gale Dekarios:

Arabella - Songfic, fluff. Prompt: 169 “Oh, fuck. Do that again.”

Something. Wyll x reader x Gale. Fluff. (look up!)<3

Tea- Gale x reader. Drabble. A tea to fall in love.

Shadowheart:

TBA

Lae'zel:

TBA

Halsin:

TBA

Jaheira:

Dinner is served. smut.

Minsc:

TBA

other characters:

"Let me show you how this will benefit you"- Gortash x OC (see more on post), smut- check TWs.

Request rules:

My requests are currently open, of course there's some rules I'd like to enforce so all of the readers, as well as me, are comfortable.

-no nsfw from anons or ageless accs

-no abuse from the romantic interest with the intent of having them fall in love (I see you Stockholm syndrome lovers, but this is not the place), while the mcs trying to murder each other before kissing it's our fav trope here, abuse it's not.

-no dubcon or noncon

-no b3stiality, no inc3st, or minors characters, even if aged up.

-and yk the usual do not interact warnings.

-can definitely use prompts, one liners, tropes, whatever comes to your mind for the request, and I'll try my best to fulfill them.

Navigation tags:

#lynn: updates ☆ (updates on what im working on, or published content)

#ask: lynn ☆ (answers to the asks I get)

#lynn: i wandered lonely as a cloud (ff related tag)

#vault: lynn ☆ (what I posted)

#asklynn☆: request (requests fulfilled)

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aevallare · 1 month

Text

aevallare's bg3 masterlist wahoo

what's up. i'm aevallare. you might know me as an idiot. here are some of my links.

ao3 || patreon || carrd

here are my bg3 fics beneath the read more. these are all available on my ao3, linked above. sorry about the white boy of the century.

power decides (conscript 38/astarion)

gossamer (ongoing) - post-game. previously unromanced ascendant astarion. changeling tav.

Her eyes flicker from brown to blue.

"Oh, Astarion. Why do you feel the need to control something you already own?"

we can live forever if you've got the time (auri/astarion)

kindred (ongoing) - the og. the flagship. bg3, the remix.

auri knows people, and that's how she can tell; astarion is deeply, deeply fucked up.

pour one out (ongoing) - modern reincarnation au.

astarion's immortal. auri is decidedly not. but she's always had a way of doing the impossible.

inevitable (complete, 2102 words) - pwp two-shot. tadpole phone sex.

if she closes her eyes, she’s almost sitting in his lap again.

vow (complete, 5217 words) - pwp one-shot. menstruation kink.

when she’d helped astarion ascend, it had seemed like the right choice for a multitude of reasons.

excuses (complete, 4424 words) - pwp one-shot. sex pollen.

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

infinite duress (complete, 2572 words) - pwp one-shot. bratty switch fic.

Astarion’s often the one in charge, but he’s been known to press his luck on occasion. If the tadpole still connected them, he knows exactly what Auri would say as he steps closer to Halsin.

Brat.

honeysuckle and fresh meat (shadowheart/auri/astarion)

oneiric (complete, 7866 words) - pwp one-shot. sub!shadowheart + sub!astarion.

Shadowheart snorts. Auri can't stop thinking about what Astarion said in bed the other night. She says, “The problem is that I have trouble letting go of control with people that I don't trust. And people that I trust are few and far between.”

Astarion smirks. “Yes, I can see how that would be difficult. I tend to be the one doing the controlling, if we can call it that, but letting it go can be just as…” Astarion trails off as if searching for the perfect word. “Fulfilling.”

green-eyed (complete, 2427 words) - pwp one-shot. valentine's day cuckfic.

All sex before was mediocre compared to this. Shadowheart wants for nothing.

Well. Almost nothing.

verdant (aeva/halsin)

impractical (complete, 1200 words) - one-shot.

His savior was a half-drow, as he’d later learn, but there hadn’t been time to reprimand himself for his prejudices. She’d slain his captors with relative ease, assisted by a human warlock, a half-elf Sharran, and a raging tiefling, and when he’d said he couldn’t possibly leave this place without removing the goblin leaders from the equation, she’d tilted her head to the side.

“We disposed of them before we found you.”

adjustments (complete, 1011 words) - one-shot.

The Underdark is beautiful in its own way, but it’s difficult for Aeva to divorce its aesthetic from the realities of living there. She’d been forced to claw her way out from destitution so often that it might as well have torn the nails from her fingers, and if desperation was currency, she would have wanted for nothing.

vital (complete, 1384 words) - one-shot.

Halsin’s dangerous in an unusual way. Being near him makes Aeva feel secure, and that’s never ended pleasantly. A tenday ago, she would have ignored his question outright.

He doesn’t press her for anything else, and for some reason, that loosens Aeva’s lips more.

old habits (complete, 1545 words) - one-shot.

Death to slavers always. That much will never change.

faithless (wyll/nora/astarion)

acumen (complete, 984 words) - one-shot.

Wyll likes to believe that everyone is doing the best they can.

bluster (wisp/gale)

tailwind (complete, 1670 words) - one-shot.

Wisp is loud, obnoxious, and concerned with little but joy and adventure. Stealth eludes her entirely, she’s constantly talking about how she’d feel better if they were on a ship, she never stops talking about how much she misses sailing and the sea, and she’s purported to be a cleric, but Gale has yet to see anything holy about her.

assorted one-shots

hearth (complete, 602 words) - shadowheart/karlach one-shot.

It’s cold tonight. Baldur’s Gate buzzes in the distance, and it’s hard to say what waits for them there. They’ve all still got parasites in their heads, there are two Chosen left, and Shadowheart’s renounced the only thing she knows.

cursed (complete, 1124 words) - gale/astarion one-shot.

When Gale Dekarios was born, there were whispers that he was cursed.

hypotheticals (complete, 542 words) - wyll/astarion one-shot.

in another life, a lot of things could have been different.

#bg3 #new pinned poast... as a treat...#fic #astarion #oopsie

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lovelybrooke · 1 month

Note

Can I request how Raphael realises he love Reader?

Yeah!!

Here's my post about the companions---Here's my post about Zevlor and Dammon.

masterlist

---

Raphael thought of you often, more often than he'd liked to admit. There was something compelling about you that kept him coming back for more. A part of him thought it was your situation, a pathetic little human getting wrapped up in all this mess. Or maybe it was those annoying little companions by your side. Truly, he doesn't know why you're so captivating, why you take up so much space in his mind, but it's starting to get annoying.

He thought it was annoying how you kept refusing him, even when entering the city. He was ready to give you what you wanted, but you refused, and it made his blood boil. But what was even more annoying was even after all of this, after all your refusals, all your annoyed glances, and exasperated sighs, he still can't help but think of you constantly. He thinks of the first time he saw you, on the road in that forest. He thinks of your companions, how close they stand near you, the possessive looks they send your way, and the anger he feels as they fill your head with lie after lie about him.

He's annoyed when Korrilla tells him of your adventures, because all he can imagine is the way your companions make you smile, the way you hide behind them in moments of danger, the way they fill your head with promises to find you a way home, promises they'd never deliver on. He could help you though, he could find you a way home. Maybe then you'd listen to him, you'd quit your refusals and recognize him as something more than just a Cambion. Maybe then your smiles would be for him.

But send you home---that's not something he would possibly do, regardless of what you did for him. You're more interesting here, where he can keep an eye on you.

Raphael thinks of you often. He thinks of when he first saw you, on that road in the forest. He thinks of when he took you to his House of Hope, the shock on your face. He thinks of when he offered to remove that ever-present tadpole from your mind, only for you to refuse, and how it surprised him. Oh you were so full of surprises, maybe that's what draws him to you--the thought of what you're going to do next.

Raphael is patient, he'll wait until you realize how valuable he is, until you come crawling back to him. And If you don't, if you surprise him, well maybe he'd prefer that.

---

A/n: Much more short but that's cuz this was only for one character.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #yandere bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 months

Text

Enchanted | g.d. | 2

Gale x fem!Tav

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I told you I wasn’t sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place…

“We’ve certainly collected a myriad of companions,” Gale observed as he sat down beside her in camp.

A little over a week ago, Tav had been kind enough to pull him from the wall he had managed to trap himself inside of after the illithid ship had crashed. She was even kinder in allowing him to travel with her, Lae’Zel, Astarion and Shadowheart to find a cure for their tadpole problem. Since then, they had collected the Blade of Frontiers and a devil from Avernus as well and were setting out to locate the druid Halsin in order to help the Emerald Grove.

She seemed ready and willing to collect any and all strays along the way, ensuring that everyone was healed, fed, and given a warm place to rest. Her compassionate nature extended not only to humans but to animals too; she would often pause to tend to wounded creatures found on their journey, whether they were injured birds or owlbear cubs –though that was how they came to have Scratch and the very same owlbear cub she had found outside the goblin camp.

Perhaps that was why Gale was so drawn to her already; she was kind and open in a way that he had never experienced before. Her empathy seemed boundless, radiating from her in moments of danger and transformation alike. Even in the face of peril, she remained steadfast, her gentle demeanor a beacon of hope and comfort to those around her. It was as if she possessed an innate ability to soothe troubled souls and mend broken spirits with just a smile and a touch.

“The more people we have, the more likely we are to be safe from whatever we face in the coming days,” she reminded him, though she did not look up from the violin she had snagged from an abandoned caravan as she tried to re-tune it. She had used it earlier to hit a goblin, and while the instrument still worked, the strings had snapped in the process and she was trying to replace them. “Besides, I can’t imagine leaving any of you to your own devices; you were trapped in a wall. Lae’Zel was in a cage, and Karlach was being hunted by Wyll. I’m afraid if I let you wander, you’ll get yourselves killed.”

The playful conversation starts,

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy…

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chastised, chuckling some as he leaned back. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself –though I cannot attest to any of our other friends.”

Tav simply shrugged in response, looking up at him finally with a soft smile. “I’m sure you are, Gale of Waterdeep. With a title like that, I’m sure you’re a fantastic adventurer and this is just another day in paradise.”

Gale simply shrugged in response, though he couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips. They fell into a comfortable silence as she plucked at the strings of her violin, humming a soft tune to make sure the melody sounded alright. His thoughts drifted to his bard –to the note he had given to the little kobold. Had it really only been a few weeks since he left his tower? With everything that had happened, it had felt like months ago that he had sought out his bard and lost his chance.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” she finally announced, standing up and stretching her arms over her head. Gale picked up her violin and held it out to her, smiling some. Tav took it, their fingers brushing against one another just briefly, with her own smile. “Goodnight, Gale. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Tav,” he offered, watching her retreating figure as she slipped into her tent. He averted his gaze as she bent over, looking away with a soft blush when he caught himself staring a little longer than he should have.

“You’re a bit pathetic, you know that?” Astarion suddenly announced, appearing across from Gale as the fire simmered down.

“Excuse me?”

Astarion sipped the wine in his hand, waving his other dismissively. “Please, it’s been a week since she picked you out of that wall and all you do is pine after like a love sick fool.”

“I do not pine. Besides –I have no time for any sort of romantic inclinations. Not with our unwanted guest in our heads.”

Gale rolled his eyes, shaking his head. What a ridiculous notion, he mused, thinking that he had any interest in beginning a relationship in the middle of all of this chaos. Even if he did find Tav attractive and kind and a lovely conversationalist – qualities that he couldn't deny – he couldn't afford to entertain such thoughts, not when the fate of their lives hung in the balance.

Perhaps he did have a bit of a lingering crush on the de facto leader –but that meant little when he couldn't help but stray to the missive he had sent to his bard. Hope flickered within him, albeit faintly, as he imagined her response to his attempt at poetry and his thanks to her. His mind drifted to her every night, even if he didn’t see her face. He didn’t need to know what she looked like when he could hear her voice and recall her words.

Tav was lovely, but she wasn’t his bard and if Gale was to hold onto anything, it had to be her. If anything because the likelihood of ever seeing her again was minimal –less hurt for him and Tav.

“Then I don’t suppose you would be upset if I made time for her, then?” Astarion questioned, brow quirked up with the smirk that Gale had learned meant nothing good.

Gale opened his mouth to tell him, no, I would not be upset but you shouldn’t touch her still but the sentence got caught in his throat as the orb in his chest pulsed suddenly, shooting a sharp pain through his body. Astarion lurched back, surprised by Gale’s sudden cry of pain as the wizard doubled over and fell to his knees. Gods, now was not the time for this to happen –not in the middle of camp; not with everyone around.

“What in the sweet hells is wrong with you?” Astarion demanded as Tav practically tripped out of her tent to hurry back over. Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach approached as well.

“Gale, are you okay?” Tav asked, touching his shoulder to lay him on his back.

“I just –,” he gasped, closing his eyes for a moment as he reached up and clutched his chest. Her hand covered his, trying to look over his chest for wounds. When she found none, the pain had subsided enough for him to open his eyes and clutch her hand in his. “I suppose it’s time I tell you all that I might have what is…essentially a bomb in my chest.” She pulled back some, though she kept her hand in his as he loosened the wrap of his robe, exposing the mark of the Netherese orb that climbed up his chest and to his throat. “It’s a complicated story –long, tedious, and terribly boring, truthfully –but I need –I have to consume magic in order to prevent it from getting worse.”

“How do you consume magic?” She asked, helping him sit up now. “Like, we enchant food or what?”

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. “My research determined that I just need magical items that I can siphon the magic from, to hold it over.”

Tav eyed him carefully, her gaze filled with concern. With a gentle yet firm touch, she flattened her hand against his chest, as if trying to soothe the orb nestled within him with just her touch. Gale could feel the warmth of her palm against his skin, a stark contrast to the icy tendrils of darkness coiling within him.

He appreciated the gesture more than he could probably express. Her presence alone offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his torment. But despite her efforts, the touch did little to appease the malevolent orb residing inside him. It continued to pulse with an ominous energy, defying all attempts at pacification.

“I think I picked up a helm,” Shadowheart suggested, half jogging back to her tent to go through her things.

“Oh, I picked up a fancy robe –I bet it’s magic,” Karlach offered, following suit.

“I have this.” Tav unclasped a necklace from around her neck –a simple amulet on a chain. The center held an emerald stone and it was encased in fine gold. “It’s definitely magic –it’s the Absolute Confidence Amulet. Nicked it off my old boss before I left Neverwinter a couple years ago.”

“Don’t you need it?” He asked, though he was already reaching for it.

“Not anymore, honestly,” she reassured with a promising smile. “I’m pretty confident in myself without it.”

Gale nodded solemnly, his fingers tightening around the item clutched close to his chest. With a deep breath, he released the magic contained within the amulet, allowing the orb to consume it greedily. As the magical energies dissipated, the necklace crumbled into pieces, scattering at their feet like shards of shattered dreams.

Tav watched the disintegration of the necklace with a bit of resignation. Despite the necessity of the action, there was a sense of loss in witnessing the demise of the once-cherished item. Yet, her smile held a glimmer of hope as she pulled away from him and stood.

“Let us know if you need more. You shouldn’t keep this from us,” she lightly scolded, helping him up from the ground. “We’re in this together –I don’t know what I’d do if something were to happen to you.”

Gale nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at Tav. For the first time in weeks, the pulsing of the orb within him dulled down.

As she moved to pull away, a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, Gale's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of impulse, he reached out and caught her hand, holding it tenderly against his chest. She looked up at him in surprise, but didn’t move to pull away –instead her gaze softened as she smiled up at him.

With a silent understanding passing between them, Gale nodded in response to her request, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of trust and affection. In the fleeting moment, he couldn’t help himself as he covered her hand with his once more.

“Thank you, Tav. Truly.”

“Of course, Gale.

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you…

*****

“Gale seems to be quite taken with you,” Shadowheart commented a few days later, when she and Tav were collecting firewood for the camp.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tav countered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“I can’t tell if you’re blind or just ignoring how he looks at you.”

“I am not ignoring him,” she conceded, sitting on a fallen tree and dropping the wood in her hands. “I just –it’s complicated.”

“What, do you have someone waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate?” Shadowheart sat beside her, kicking her feet out in front of her.

“I mean, maybe.”

“Maybe? What do you mean maybe?”

Tav huffed, flushing a bit as she fished through her pockets and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. She handed it to the cleric then dropped her hands into her lap as Shadowheart read it over.

“This is incredibly cheesy,” she laughed, handing it back to her.

“It is not,” Tav argued, shaking her head and snatching the note back. “I don’t know who wrote it, but I have spent years singing to practically no one and this stranger wrote me a poem to tell me my singing saved their life –I suppose I’m just holding out hope that I find them one day.”

“And in the meantime, you’re going to ignore someone who very clearly is in love with you –for someone who you may never meet?” Shadowheart gave her a knowing look, crossing her ankles as she did. “Tav –we don’t have a lot of time with these tadpoles in our heads. While I am not saying you should just bed the wizard for the hells of it…I am saying that you should consider yourself fortunate to have someone that wants to share whatever time we have left with you.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pragmatic, religious one that tells me to control myself?”

“Usually I would,” but she shrugged and looked over towards where camp was situated. “But it’s hard to be when it feels like we’re on borrowed time.”

“It also helps to use the sexual tension to your advantage,” Lae’Zel suddenly announced, stepping out of the woods. “You two were taking too long. The wizard was growing concerned. You would do well to act on whatever affections he may hold for you while they last.”

“You’re both incredibly unhelpful and strangely horny,” Tav commented, standing up and gathering the wood in her arms again. “I don’t want to use him for anything —Gale is a good person; he deserves someone who can return his feelings entirely. Not someone who is distracted by a mysterious poet.”

“Tck. Githyanki have no use for poets; we say what we mean without masking it behind pretty words.”

“Thank you for the meaningful contribution to the conversation, Lae’Zel. I’m sure Tav is so happy for your advice.”

“As she should be.”

Tav rolled her eyes at them both, walking away as they began their usual bickering. How could they possibly give her advice when it was clear they had unresolved feelings between the two of them? Ridiculous, the both of them. Besides, she had no desire to give into her feelings for Gale (and she certainly had feelings, she couldn’t deny that). They had tadpoles in their brains and were on a mission to practically save the world. It was easier to pine for a mystery poet who may or may not be there at the end than risk falling in love with someone who not only had a bomb in their chest, but could sprout tentacles at any moment.

No, she was better off without falling for Gale of Waterdeep.

*****

By the end of their day, Gale and the rest of the merry band of weirdos were exhausted. They had managed to free the Druid Halsin from the goblins (while slaughtering the whole lot of them), only for him to ask them to help with breaking a curse on the Shadowlands. And Tav —Mystra bless her —had agreed almost immediately, without hesitation.

Bloodied, battered, and covered in dirt and grime, Gale practically collapsed onto the nearest bedroll close to the campfire. He was first on watch tonight, and while he desperately wanted to sleep, he knew there wouldn’t be a chance in the nine hells anyone would swap with him. Tav laughed at him, nudging him with her foot as she passed by.

“Go get some sleep, Gale. I’ll keep watch,” she offered, lowering to sit at the edge of the roll.

“Absolutely not,” he argued, sitting up to glower down at her. “It’s my turn, and you took up post the other night when the orb acted up.”

“And I’m taking up post tonight as well. Go to bed.” Her voice was firm and she was pushing him away now to get him to move. “If I get tired, I’ll wake you. Deal?”

He hesitated a moment before nodding once, standing up finally. “Deal. And do not hesitate. If I so much as hear you yawn, I’ll be out here.”

“Here’s hoping you’re a heavy sleeper then.”

Gale pushed her head gently, rolling his eyes at her. She giggled, ducking out of his reach as he retreated to the privacy of his tent. He wasn’t kidding; if she yawned before he fell asleep, he would make her swap out. It was only fair, and he couldn’t bear the idea of letting her stay up without even a short rest.

However as soon as his head hit the pillow of his own bedroll, Gale had to fight sleep. It was tempting, and usually he wouldn’t be opposed to going straight to sleep —especially when it beckoned so clearly —but he really did want to make sure she didn’t need him. Whether he wanted to admit his feelings for her or not, Gale couldn’t help but worry for her. It was almost instinctual.

After what felt like hours —though he was certain it was hardly even ten minutes —he began to drift off. Dreams danced in the edge of his mind, words to a song he vaguely recognized from his bard. Then words he knew; his words, softly carrying through the night air.

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth,

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you…

At first, he assumed it was a dream —it wouldn’t be the first time he had dreamt of her sweet voice, echoing his words back to him. Relaxing into the feeling of his bard’s voice, he let it wash over him. Let it pull him into the dream world that he desperately wanted to enter for a little while. It was clearer than ever; her voice was sometimes muffled by the dreamscape but not tonight.

Please don’t be in love with someone else,

Please don’t have somebody waiting on you…

The addition to his lines confused him, prompting his eyes to open and look around his tent for a moment. Blinking away the new lines —ones he certainly didn’t recognize and had never dreamed of before —he tried to refocus on his bard and her voice once more, listening to her echo his name even if she didn’t know it yet. But the music didn’t return in his head; it was still clear, as if right outside his tent.

Sitting up, Gale rubbed his eyes in frustration. His exhaustion must be getting to him finally. Truly, he must be hallucinating —

This is me praying that

This was the very first page,

Not where the storyline ends…

“You are absolutely hopeless, Tav, singing that silly little poem,” Shadowheart scolded from outside his tent, though he could hear her retreating to her own. “Goodnight, I hope you dream of your poet.”

Her poet?

Her poet.

Gale was her poet.

Tav was his bard.

“Sweet Hells.”

#gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios

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astarionancuninswife · 3 months

Text

symphony (bard!tav x astarion)

My first official fic for BG3 and this was a fun one to start with!! The song that came on shuffle was Cody Fry's I Hear A Symphony - Live From Ocean Way Nashville. The first thing I thought of was a bard playing it, so that's what I went for. Kinda short, but a little drabble never hurt anyone.

Like I said, this is my first BG3 fic and therefore my first Astarion fic. I've privately written him recently, but this is my first public release of my interpretation of him, so I'm sure there's some discrepancies in his characterization. That being said, I'm always open to hearing constructive criticism, just be gentle with me.

Please enjoy!

word count: 840

warnings: N/A unless sweet sweet fluff is something you're wishing to avoid... or if you don't like real life songs being used in fantasy settings lol

ao3 | guidelines for requests | masterlist

It was just like any other night at the camp, a strange mix of people forced into companionship by unlikely circumstances minding their own business. Shadowheart sitting in thought at her tent, Wyll making conversation with Karlach about their adventures of the day, and so on. Tav is sure the others are doing interesting things as well to wind down for the night, but she isn't too concerned about them. Instead, she sits by the fire, pretending to simply be staring off into space as she strums her lyre idly, but in truth, she's watching a certain vampire across the way. He's reading a book like he often does. She's not sure of what the contents are, she's not interested in it anyway.

She stops her hand for a moment and starts thinking of the song she had composed a few nights before and just hadn't been brave enough to share until now. It was rare for the bard to be nervous; her pieces usually were just silly little ditties made up on the spot about something funny that happened while out with a small party of her companions. Those didn't warrant a fear of criticism.

This, however, was different, it's fully written and memorized. It's special, it's a song with a specific muse. And she's not quite sure how this muse will react when he hears this pseudo-confession.

After some thought, she softly begins to sing with her eyes closed, "I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along," she takes a breath to steady her shaky voice, "Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you," she finally opens her eyes with the last word, immediately meeting Astarion's through the flames of the fire. She can't quite read his face, but when can she ever? He's pretty good at keeping his thoughts tucked away from any detection when he wants unless she uses the tadpole connection to enter his mind. She would never though; she understands the need for privacy and consent with everyone, but especially with him.

So, instead, she begins strumming her lyre and continues her song:

With simple songs, I wanted more, Perfection is so quick to bore, You are more beautiful by far, Our flaws are who we really are,

It was then she saw recognition on his face, a smile threatening to grace his lips. He was holding back, but she was fine with that. The corner of her lips become upturned as well, she's more than happy to smile for the both of them at the moment. She stands up, finding her usual confidence again at his acknowledgment. And all at once, in her mind and in this moment, it is just her and him alone in the camp. No one else exists to her.

I used to hear a simple song, That was until you came along. You took my broken melody, And now I hear a symphony.

She does a few vocalizations to fill the gap between the last stanza and the outro, all the while never taking her eyes off the pale elf who has given up on keeping his lips from forming a smile on his face.

And now I hear a symphony.

She strums a few more notes before ending the song, standing there by the fire with a stupid lovesick grin. She watches as he walks over to her while clapping a few times, "What a beautiful melody," he compliments, "I wonder who could have inspired such a poem."

Tav laughs at his theatrics, rolling her eyes as her cheeks heat up, "A mystery," if he was going to tease her, she'd play the game as well.

"Well, whoever they are, they must certainly be quite special to you."

"He is," she says, her voice filled with nothing but honesty, "I hope I'm even a fraction as special to him…" she trails off, looking at him softly before becoming self-conscious of her implications and looking away.

Astarion is quiet; it takes him a moment to realize how vulnerable she's being in the moment, how honest and open. A soft smile takes form on his lips again before leaning to kiss her forehead, "More than just a fraction, darling, much more," he says gently, just loud enough for her to hear.

After a few seconds of blissfully staring at each other in silence, clapping can be heard from another spot in the camp, followed by Shadowheart quietly scolding Karlach for ruining the bard and rogue's sweet moment. Which is then followed by the others all figuring out who won the bet of how long it would take for one of the two to confess having actual feelings for one another and who would be the one to make the first real move. (Lae'zel won both, plus a bonus prediction of how Tav would confess, though it wasn't much of a surprise considering she carried an instrument around like it's a necessity in life she can't live without.)

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Note

Hi! I absolutely love your headcannons!! Would it be possible for me to request sick Astarion? Or Astarion with a sick Tav? :)

Hi! Thank you for your request! I think I can do both!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Caring for their sick partner

Astarion takes care of you

He isn't a nurturing type.

He doesn't really care about himself let alone someone else!

Besides, it's not like he used to hang out with mortals a lot.

During your post-game adventures, you end in the far north in the middle of winter.

Astarion doesn't feel cold, but he notices you feel uncomfortable near him - his body is cold, and he steals the heat you need so much.

It causes tension between you two - one of the first challenges for you as a couple.

During a fight, you fall through the ice and almost die in the dark cold waters.

Astarion saves you but the damage is done.

You are severely sick.

Astarion freaks out.

You are dying in his arms.

He has to save you. He won't lose you.

Astarion manages to dress you in dry and warm clothes. He leaves you by the fire for a bit to hunt - you need food, and Astarion needs blood to warm you.

Then, when you stabilize, he carries you to the closest village and gives you all the money you've earned in your travels for a room in the inn.

He spoon-feeds you and wraps you in the warmest blankets.

Sometimes you pout, refusing to take one more bitter medicine, but he can't take this nonsense - you are going to get better. Period.

When you wake up, still in fever, Astarion is always near. Either wrapping you with his blood-warm body or with his ear on your chest as if he was afraid your heart was going to stop at any given moment.

As the spring comes, you finally get better. Astarion gives you a bath, and you realize how itchy and sweaty your body is.

Then he lashes at you, of course.

You were reckless, you were risking yourself. How could you?

But you know he speaks out of fear, and you comfort him, promising to never put yourself in danger without a need.

You take care of Astarion

If you weren't a nurturing type, you wouldn't end up with Astarion.

The man needs help and care, something he never had.

You comfort him after the nightmares and kiss away his tears.

He doesn't need to be cared for physically - once the tadpole is removed, he regenerates, and it's impossible to wound him.

But he is a mental wreck who can have a meltdown over a trigger word or a cruel flashback after an innocent action.

But he is far from invincible.

He is being reckless and ends up surrounded by monster hunters.

They chain him in silver and leave him helpless on the ground to see the sun.

You manage to come to the rescue - and murder all three of them.

But as you fight, the sun rises, and it burns Astarion.

It's almost too late for him when you set him free and drag him to the shadows.

The regeneration is slowed down - the burns are as bad as if he survived a fire.

You give him blood. All you can do without killing yourself.

The assault causes one of the worst setbacks in his healing process.

Astarion is almost catatonic - curling in the darkest corner of the room in the fetal position.

You can only guess what prison his tortured mind is locked in.

You talk to him. Hug him. Takes care of his hair. Caress his back.

Days become weeks, weeks become months - and one evening Astarion is finally back.

He wraps his hand around you and nuzzles your collarbone.

By the end of the night, Astarion is his true self again, ready for everything freedom has to offer.

"I was there, in the tomb," he confesses. "I was locked there, in the dark, and all my life looked like a feverish dream."

"I am here, love," you say. "I will always be here for you."

You pretend you don't see his tears as you say it.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 month

Text

“I think…” she trails off, trying to choose her words carefully, “I think we need to talk.” His eyes crack open, an eyebrow lifted, “Perhaps I was wrong, and thinking is a good look on you.” “If you’re going to make a joke out of everything I say, then I can easily go back to avoiding you.” “So you admit it? You were avoiding me?” “I didn’t mean tha-”

summary: aruna finally confronts astarion about his vampirism. how badly could it go?

wc: 5.9k+

warnings: description of a dead animal (the boar from the game)

a/n: another one that's already been on ao3, but this means we're finally caught up across platforms! next chapter is the bite scene (and the bite scene only) my friends <3

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Aruna avoids Astarion for a whole five days. Impressive, given the gravity he seems to hold that continues to draw her towards him. But a necessary feat – all she can hear, every day and every night, is the echo of his words.

My dearest Aruna.

Her hands are reaching for her letter more often than she’d care to admit, always fearing she’ll find her pack empty. She knows Astarion couldn’t have possibly written the letter, it’s become apparent that he’d never met her before this entire misadventure, but it was too startling to be a mere coincidence . If she were smarter, she’d take the time to figure out what it all meant.

But she isn’t smart. She’s a fool, and she avoids the man that has begun to haunt her at every corner of her days.

She fills her waking hours to the brim with anything but the vampire. Reading, practicing magic, adventuring . She tries to ignore his mildly hurt expression any time she recruits companions to join her in her explorations and pointedly ignores going anywhere near him during the enlistment process. It’s as though he’s been plagued by something absolutely abhorrent to her, and she can’t possibly get far enough away from him in order to breathe.

And so she does what she must. They come across an owlbear den, and the mother nearly mauls them all before Aruna diffuses the situation. They explore more of the Grove, only to end up in battle with Harpies in order to save a lured child. Aruna finds that she fights infinitely better without an Astarion around to worry about saving as well.

She just chooses to ignore the fact that every time she fights with her daggers, Astarion’s muffled voice is there, in the recedes of her mind, whispering instructions that are actually helpful. She knows it’s not the tadpole connection, but that’s all she does know.

Some time during the entire ordeal, Astarion stops sleeping at her side by the fire at night. He must have returned to the Grove without her, because he’s suddenly the proud owner of a tent just like the one from her memory. A deep maroon, the fabric uncannily free of dust. She has no idea where he’s gathered all the trinkets and mundane items that litter both the porch of it and the inside that she catches glimpses of – she doesn’t even know when he set the damned thing up. There had simply been a morning in which she departed for the day with Wyll, Gale, and Shadowheart, and returned to Astarion lounging very comfortably right below the perch of her overlook.

It felt a bit deliberate, given how much time she spent up there in the evenings. The bastard.

Aruna’s terrible tactic only comes to a head when her group of vagabonds for the day stumbles upon the carcass of a drained boar, left behind in the dead center of the dirt path.

The deja vu gives her a headache.

Wyll brushes it off for the most part. Shadowheart seems intrigued, but after finding nothing seemingly intriguing about the dead animal, she’s already wandering off a few paces away. Gale is the only one even an inch within being as curious as Aruna is.

If you could even call her curious.

“Why, that poor thing !” he exclaims just as Aruna has paused to take a knee, only to get a closer look. Just as she had expected, there’s no external clue to the boar’s cause of death, “Do you think this might be the doing of the goblins?”

Aruna only sighs deeply, shoulders dropping and face crumpling microscopically.

No, this is not the doing of goblins. This is the doing of a particularly annoying prick in my side who’s lounging back at camp.

“Goblins would be messier,” is her poor attempt at an excuse.

They would be, to be fair.

Gale hums thoughtfully, crouching down beside her, “I suppose you’re right. I don’t even see any wounds on the ani-”

He cuts off as his eyes zero in on the neck of the boar. The fur there has been smoothed and smooshed enough to lay in an exposing pattern, almost a clear view of the two small puncture wounds that mar the skin beneath.

Astarion’s work, without a doubt.

“Have you ever seen wounds like that?” she whispers quietly, hoping that Wyll and Shadowheart will continue whatever boring chat they were trying to engage each other with.

She doesn’t want them to notice this. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, but- Well, she simply trusts Gale more.

There had been an empty space at her side left behind due to the absence of Astarion. And Gale had easily taken to filling it in, stepping right into stride with Aruna just as her shadow once had.

After the Harpies, he had opened up to her some. She’d nearly snipped at the young tiefling child at the beach, but something deep within her couldn’t bring herself to be so cruel as her initial reaction had been. Instead of telling the kid to stop crying in such a callous way, she’d only found herself warning him to be careful and to be more mindful of where he wandered. Gale had been at her side not a moment later, murmuring in delightful reminiscence of how he was as a young and curious child.

It was sort of endearing. Almost familiar. Not quite what she felt with Astarion, but close enough for now.

“Never,” he looks dumbfounded. She wonders just how often he’s come up this clueless in his life, given all his prattling about knowledge , “But… well, rather peculiar indeed.”

“Peculiar is one word for it.”

Gale is quickest to agree when Aruna suggests they go back to camp. The day had mostly been wasted at this point regardless; the only thing they’d discovered thus far that was of any interest was a crumbling temple of sorts not far from their camp, right beside the beach in which they’d crash landed on. But they had found people there, other looters, and Aruna hadn’t hesitated to call her group to fall back the moment she spotted the figures arguing in the decaying courtyard.

They don’t need to know why she’s so eager to return back to camp. Or the absolute reaming she plans their entire trek back for a certain companion.

Astarion was either being deliberately dense and playing with fire, waiting for someone to catch on and call him out on his true nature, or-

Well. He was just truly that reckless.

Aruna storms back into the camp, the rest close behind and nearly nipping at her heels, to find Astarion perfectly at peace as he sits in front of his tent. At first, she thinks he’s simply reading. She can see the book opened up in his lap clearly, but his finger isn’t trailing along the words as he usually would. His head is far too tilted back to even be looking at the pages.

She stops dead in her tracks, dust kicking up from the abrupt halting of her steps, the moment she rounds his tent and sees him properly.

Her anger fizzles momentarily at the sight. All the harsh words she was prepared to spit at him, the ravings of his idiocracy and the grand reveal of her knowing his most sacred secret, are lost to the wind.

He looks peaceful . Perfectly, absolutely, at peace.

Eyes fluttered shut, mouth slack, skin bright in the warm afternoon sun. He’s basking in it. She swears every pale inch of him has begun to glow golden as he absorbs all the heat the sky has to offer.

“Have you finally decided you’re ready to speak to me again, or are you just here for a show?”

His voice snaps her from the trance. For just a second, it felt as though the radiant glow of his peace had dispelled every single one of her shadows from existence. But the echo of his words across the otherwise quiet camp reminds her of all her frustrations.

My dearest Aruna.

He’s a vampire. She has to save him. And somehow, he mysteriously has addressed her just as her bizarre letter had. It matter of fact sparks new found anger.

But not at him. It’s the strangest of realizations; none of her negative feelings are capable of being pointed towards him in this state. That golden glow gives him an innocence she had forgotten. She may know new information, she may have some sort of begrudging upper hand on their entire situation it seems, but he doesn’t. Astarion is simply surviving – the boar wasn’t some direct taunt from him. Probably nothing more than a small slip up in the process of keeping himself alive and well.

He had to feed. She couldn’t get angry at him for that.

“I think…” she trails off, trying to choose her words carefully, “I think we need to talk.”

His eyes crack open, an eyebrow lifted, “Perhaps I was wrong, and thinking is a good look on you.”

“If you’re going to make a joke out of everything I say, then I can easily go back to avoiding you.”

“So you admit it? You were avoiding me?”

“I didn’t mean tha-”

Gale interrupts them as he strolls up beside Aruna. He’s not quite a shadow, not quite as reflexive or secure as Astarion, but he nearly fits the mold left behind. “Perhaps Astarion might know more of what we found in our travels today.”

That catches the vampire’s attention. He displays upmost lithe as he quickly widens both eyes and brings himself to his feet, unashamed in his eagerness at the prospect.

The prospect of being useful again. The prospect of Aruna needing him again.

“Oh?” he asks, eyes darting between the wizard and sorcerer, “Pray tell – what did you morons find?”

Aruna is scowling when she replies, “A boar.”

He’s waiting for her to continue on. An act that’s working well enough on Gale, but Aruna catches the sudden stiffness of his spine.

“When you put it that way, it’s as if you want him to turn up his nose at helping us,” Gale mutters, entirely unimpressed. “It was a dead boar, but without any clear wounds. I- Well, I have my guesses as to what might have killed the poor animal, but-”

“It had peculiar marks on its neck,” Aruna finishes before he can start up a ramble.

Astarion is growing more tense with every passing moment.

“ Peculiar marks? ” he nearly scoffs, “And you think I’d be of any help regarding them why? ”

“Because you’re helpful,” Aruna deadpans, leveling him with a bored stare. It takes everything in her to assure that she doesn’t clue him in to the fact that she knows he was the one who killed that boar, that those marks were a bite left by his fangs, “Or at least you’ve proven you can be when you want to be.”

Maybe her faux boredom can be what lures him in. Perhaps the new approach can work in her favor.

“And what if I’m not feeling particularly helpful today?” he grins softly, tilting his head at her. The action is almost feline in nature, “I was quite enjoying relaxing here while the rest of you run around aimlessly, doing all the hard work.”

“That was quite the contradictory statement to your earlier sentiment,” she muses, struggling to keep her amusement from lacing up into her words. She hated that she liked playing these games with him. She hated that his taunts lit something deep within her. A whisper of come play with me, a need to dance along to the tune that he believed himself to be conducting, “Are we being useless, or are we doing hard work? Pick one or the other. As a matter of fact, you can ponder on it as you join me to go take a second look at this boar.”

Alone. An unspoken clause. She was going to get him alone and far from camp, and then she could confront him.

“A second look?” his eyebrows quirk, eyes darting to the horizon, “But the sun is sett-”

She cuts him off, “We’ll be fine. Besides, if we run into any trouble, you’ll protect me – right?”

Gale is biting back his laughter as Astarion’s face falls, eyes narrowing into slits. But he doesn’t protest, much to Aruna’s chagrin. He only spins and ducks into his tent, returning with his own daggers in hand. In the flash of a glimpse she catches before he’s secured them into his holsters, Aruna swears they could pass for her own. Same length, same silver blade, same black leather wrapped around the hilt.

“If we get into any trouble, I’ll leave you to the wolves,” he remarks as he steps up in front of her. Gale falls back, as if Astarion’s mere presence pushes him out of Aruna’s space, making room for the rightful shadow to return to her.

Aruna rolls her eyes, and turns to look at Gale, “Don’t let camp burn down while we’re gone.”

“Won’t be too much trouble,” he still fights a grin, eyes darting between Aruna and Astarion, “Seeing as our natural-born troublemakers will be out. I should be warning you against causing any chaos or arson.”

“No promises.”

Gale sighs, “Of course not. I forget who I’m speaking to.”

It feels right. It feels natural for Astarion to fall into step with her. To turn her back on the camp, and know that he is right there, a hairline fracture behind her and ready for anything that may interrupt their travels. She feels safer this way, she realizes, to hear the lack of twigs snapping behind her or gravel crunching as she paces the path that leads them from the camp and back out into the wilderness. Neither hers nor Astarion’s gear so much as clang a single metallic ring as they thread their way through the trees, both silent as ever as Aruna retraces her steps back to the boar. No complaining from Shadowheart, no nervous rambling from Gale, no tchs from Lae’zel.

They make a good team, as painful as it may be to admit.

“Your stealth has improved in the days you’ve been ignoring me,” Astarion notes as they break through the treeline not far from the entrance to the grove, “Manage to loot a new pair of boots in your misadventures?”

“Nope,” she looks down at the same worn boots she’d been donning since waking up on the beach, “Although, now that you mention it, I could surely use a new pair.”

“Are you sure you have enough gold for a new pair?”

She slows until Astarion falls into a leisurely pace at her side, no longer trailing behind her, “Who needs gold if I have a rogue to conveniently snag me a pair from one of the traders at the grove?”

He nearly trips over himself as he side eyes her. Immediately, she knows she had gotten her guess correctly – he was clearly a rogue, and the night she had spent skimming through the book on the class was decidedly not a waste.

“So you’ve figured out my class. Impressive .”

“It wasn’t hard. You do love feeding into stereotypes, don’t you?”

“Me? Being stereotypical?” Astarion scoffs, raising a theatrical hand, holding over his chest, “Darling, I’m hurt. I’ll have you know I’m absolutely one of a kind.”

She rolls her eyes despite her best efforts, “Right. Of course. You must be unique to be such a sharp pain in my ass.”

“Full of fire today, are we, my dearest sorcerer?”

It’s not quite the phrase from the letter. One word short, and yet it still stirs something in her. Triggering the exact thing she had been battling and trying to bury deep down the past five days.

My dearest Aruna.

If she looks close enough, she swears she can see the endless pathways of wires and threads alike between them, all crossing and knotting past the point of being detangled. There’s too much she doesn’t know; there’s too much she does know. Like how he’s a vampire. He’s a vampire, and for some reason, it doesn’t do anything to deflate her trust in him. As a matter of fact, his usage of that familiar nickname atop the heading of the letter in her pack strikes more wariness in her than his condition ever could.

But it doesn’t change the fact that she needs to confront him now that they’re alone.

She’s saved by the boar, it seems, as they finally stumble upon the carcass. It’s right where she had left it not even an hour prior. Still in the center of the pathway, still dead as ever. And still marked with those two fang-sized holes in what would be considered its neck.

“Is this it?” Astarion raises a brow, stopping a few steps short of the carrion, “This is the treacherous boar that Gale was rambling on about?”

Her throat threatens to close up from her swelling anxiety, “Look at its neck.”

Astarion is soundless, both in voice and movement, as he crouches down. She quickly realizes that his eyes were already glued to the suspicious wounds before she’d even pointed them out, already locked into the location before he had been anywhere near close enough to properly spot them.

For all she could rave about how sly and stealthy he can be, he certainly has his moments.

Did he ever plan to tell them? The admission would surely put him in danger. If she were in his shoes, she’d probably have been counting her days until a stake was aimed her way, always living with the fear of her deepest secret being exposed. He doesn’t know that she already knows. He has no idea that she’s already decided he’s worth the risk, and that his vampirism is just something to deal with. Just like her memory loss, just like Wyll’s heroism. It was a small thing to categorize rather than worry over. And yet, she knows – he never planned to tell them.

It’s practically written in stone as he tsks from his crouch and glances up at her, “I see. Looks like something bit the poor thing.”

“Something did more than simply bite it,” she argues, pushing her luck and desperately trying to make him say the words aloud, “It’s been drained completely of its blood, Astarion. Doesn’t that worry you?”

It does, and for all the reasons not implicated. She sees the flash of fear, the dredging up of anxiety. She’s yanking him from his shadows of safety, one push at a time.

“How do you know it’s been drained of all its blood? Have you even checked?”

“It’s dead, and there’s not a drop of scarlet to be seen.”

“Maybe it was killed with magic.”

“Or maybe it was killed by a vampire .”

Time stands still as she says the cursed word. It’s out in the air between them now, impossible to take back. She hadn’t even meant to spit it out so ferociously; it had simply slipped out as her heart rate picked up as she began her confrontation, knowing exactly what she was about to get herself into-

Could he sense her heart racing? He was a vampire, after all. He must be able to hear her pulse. He must.

He’s staring up at her, dumbfounded, clearly choosing his next words carefully. All she can do is lose herself, bit by bit, crack by crack, in those scarlet eyes.

“You think a vampire is roaming these lands?” his tone has gone hushed, and she must admit – he’s a decent actor when he gives it his best effort, “I… Well, that certainly changes quite a few things.”

Like what? she nearly snaps at him, Like whether we all can sleep peacefully in our camp at night, knowing the vampire was settled into a tent mere feet away?

“I do,” she chokes out over her nerves. He was certainly going to lash out, or run in fear. Her entire purpose since leaving that ship is about to be shattered, left in complete shambles as she fails the one thing she knows as her purpose, “There must be. Nothing else would have killed the boar this way.”

He rises slowly, eyes never leaving hers. He’s tense – just as tense as his neck and shoulders had been the night he’d humored her guessing of his class. Stoic and petrified. “And… what do you plan to do about this revelation? It’s not as though we can… hunt the fool. He surely can’t travel in the daylight, and we rest at nigh-”

She’s quick to catch his slip up.

“Who ever said the vampire was a man, Astarion?”

His entire face drops, the mask evaporating and in its place, a rampant fear spreads. She can see him making his choice in real time, grasping at the formulations of any plan or save he can manage. The excuses are nearly tangible on his tongue.

“Well-”

His voice is lost in the breeze as she turns slowly, facing him head on, “And why do you assume I’d want to hunt him?”

He’s trying to play it off, pitifully so. His hands are dancing out in front of him, arms slinging wildly before words have even begun to slip from his mouth.

“Well- I-” it’s the first time she’s ever heard him stutter, she realizes, “It’s a vampire , darling. A wild beast of the night. A vicious and violent creature. Why wouldn’t you want to hunt it down before it caused any more grief?”

If she didn’t know, it’d be the performance of a lifetime. But she knows, and it strikes a terrible pang of sadness deep within her. He believes what he’s saying – he truly believes vampires to be something vial, something dangerous, something violent. He believes himself to be all of those things. He sees himself as something vicious, as something cursed to creep through the night and leave a trail of bloodshed in his wake. A thing so terrible that he deserves the stake he expects she would drive through his heart if he admitted the truth.

He is annoying. He is exasperating. He is finicky. He calls for trouble to follow him more closely than his own shadow, it seems. He is all of those things, but he is not what he currently describes to Aruna. Not to her.

“A vampire is an undead creature,” she recites from memory. She’d snagged a book on vampires from Gale’s piles, as well. “Undead. Something, someone, once living. I don’t make a business of hunting, in case I haven’t made myself clear in the time we’ve spent traveling together.”

“We’re hunting that devil of Wyll’s,” he’s quick to point out.

“Wyll is hunting the devil, and I’ve simply offered minimal aid in exchange for his help in protecting us.”

Because I’m not enough. Because I can’t protect this group given my current state. And I highly doubt I ever could to begin with.

There are unspoken words drifting into nothing more than smoke and mirrors between them. She nearly reignites the tadpole’s connection just so he gets it . Her tongue nearly slips and simply blurts out that she knows, if for nothing more than to rip the bandaid off and make it clear she doesn’t see a monster when she looks at him. She sees an ally, a valuable member of their little trope. She sees someone worth keeping around. For better or for worse.

The nerves have died down now. The vinery of it all has slowly disengaged, no longer wrapped terribly around her throat or limbs. She chooses to finally crouch back down beside the boar, the source of this entire exchange, and let her fingers glide over the bite mark slowly. The fur lays flat beneath her touch easily.

She has nothing to lose. The only one between the two of them that has anything to lose in what she’s about to reveal is Astarion.

“I know,” she hoarsely whispers, staring down at the mostly healed wound on the animal. Nothing more than pin-prick scars, now.

“Excuse me?”

She clears her throat, taking a deep gulp of air for bravery, “I know about your condition. And I already knew a vampire had killed this boar. I didn’t need your expert opinion on the manner – I needed to get you alone.”

Really, she could have phrased it better.

He’s on the defensive immediately, taking two large steps backwards as he stares down at her, “What do you mean my condition?”

She finally tears her gaze from the boar to look at him as earnestly as she can offer, knees threatening to cry out in pain as she lifts herself back up slowly. It’s hard to imagine Astarion being scared of her – he has an advantage of height, he has an advantage of skill, he has the advantage of speed. He is more than physically capable of fighting her off if she were to attack him. And yet he’s still scared .

“You’re a vampire.”

There’s no taking back the words once she said them. She expected a weight to lift once she spoke them outloud, but the look on Astarion’s face weighs heavier than the knowledge ever did.

“You think I’m-”

“I don’t think you are,” she corrects, “I know you are. And stop reaching for your dagger, because I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve known for a while. If I was going to do anything about it, I already would have.”

Astarion is a vampire, and Aruna is part-drow. Two creatures of the night, two keeper of the shadows, face to face. Two sides of the same damn coin .

His chest heaves, likely out of habit, as he stares her down. He’s waiting for her next move, her next word. His eyes wearily watch as though he might be able to predict such, even if only a moment before it happens. All he would need is a second – he is a vampire, after all.

“When?”

She raises an eyebrow, “When what?”

“When did you figure it out?”

He takes another step back, and she pretends not to notice.

“I just… did,” she pathetically lies. In all fairness, once she knew, she did realize that he hadn’t been the most subtle about it all, “You’ve got fangs, you’re always leaving camp in the night, you never eat. Shall I go on?”

He’s fairly quick to shake his head, “Those things don’t mean I’m a vampire.”

“But you are, aren’t you?”

She’s almost giving him out. If he really wants to lie, now is his chance. He can deny, he can lie, he can ferociously dispel all her claims. And if he does, this can simply stay a secret between the two of them.

Her knowing, and him knowing that she knows.

His hand still twitches by the handle of his dagger, “And… if I am? Then what?”

“Then I tell you to be more discreet, and stop leaving your leftovers-” she pauses, kicking the boar at her feet ever so gently, “-out for others to find out. Just because I’m not in the business of hunting vampires doesn’t mean others share the sentiment.”

She doesn’t even know how everyone back at camp would react. But she knows that if he comes clean, if he simply says the magic words, she’ll defend him. An objectively stupid choice, but the hill she has chosen to die on all the same. Since the day she awoke on the beach, she has known one thing; save Astarion, no matter the cost.

Perhaps this is what the letter meant.

Maybe something happened from that time she has caught glimpses of in her memory she recovered, and it all links back to this pivotal moment. Even though it doesn’t make much sense given the fact she already knew he was a vampire in the memory, he had spoken freely about it and she’d even let him drink from her, it’s something to cling to. A comforting blanket of reassurance that she’s making the right choice.

He bites down on his lip in contemplation, and the tip of one of his fangs catches in the sunlight. It ignites the urge within her to keep speaking, to keep reassuring .

“It’s the same as the way Gale is a prideful wizard, or Lae’zel is a blood-thirsty githyanki, or I am apparently part drow. It doesn’t change anything, Astarion. I just… I’d like to know I’m not crazy.”

When he stays silent, still several paces between the two of them, she decides to try one last tactic.

Her tadpole squirms, almost in defiance, as she focuses her outreach to him. It’s not just to open a line of communication. This time, she has a far different goal in mind. She’s doing far more than just making snide remarks back and forth – she’s opening her mind to him. Inviting him in, beckoning across the ocean between them for him to see that she means no harm.

She only knows that he’s felt the invitation when that same warm pressure of his presence within her mind washes over her, down her cerebral and along her spine.

It’s all hesitant pokes and prods, uncertain wiggles as his face scrunches in simultaneous concentration and shock. She’s completely forgotten her memory that she had meant to hold sacred, has forgotten all the secrets she was drowning beneath the weight of. She trusts him; she knows he won’t go further than necessary, not with so much currently on the line.

And even if he does, she’s decided he’s worth the risk. There are far worse choices to offer exposure of her secrets to.

“You…” he whispers, eyes pinching shut and mouth twisting as she feels him dig deeper, “You’ve known. Hells, you- you’re not lying, are you?”

Not at all, she calls out over the connection rather than out loud.

His eyes snap back open. You’ve known, and you haven’t tried to stake me.

You said you would have preferred decapitation, if I’m not mistaken.

His laugh slips out in real time, and she can tell he hadn’t meant to the guffaw to ring out loud. But it does; it falls from his lips and echoes in the space around them. Pitched high with his shock, and cut short with realization.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” his tone is soft, as hesitant as all his prodding within her mind. She was right, though, as she feels his presence begin to retreat – he didn’t go further than necessary.

“Partially,” she shrugs, daring to step closer to him and diminish some of the physical distance, “And partially just because you seem to enjoy being a royal pain in my ass.”

“I saved you, if I recall correctly.”

“I thought you were still in the business of denying responsibility for my survival?”

His mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t even flinch as she takes another timid step forward. Baby steps. He’s not turning heel and running away from her. He knows that she knows, and he’s still here.

Save Astarion. For the first time their entire journey, it almost feels possible.

“I may have been… slightly responsible for it,” he secedes, eyeing her warily.

She hums, looking deeply within his carmine eyes. There’s a flame of trust that flickers beneath the surface that had not been there moments before. Not even when they’d spoken in their private moments. No, it’s something new, something warm . A door unlocked from this entire revelation.

“I wasn’t lying before. Vampires are dangerous,” he reminds her suddenly as she’s managed to sneak her way to nearly be toe-to-toe with him, “I could kill you as easily as I saved you. You are aware of that, yes?”

“I am.”

“I’m the one who killed that boar.”

“I’d hope so. I have enough trouble keeping up with one vampire, let alone two.”

His face twitches as she says it, nose scrunching slightly as he unexpectedly corrects her, “I’m merely a spawn, not a true vampire. Still dangerous but… The devil’s in the details, I suppose.”

That she did not know. He watches her reaction in real time, and clearly mistakes all her curiosity for shock. Or maybe fear. Maybe he’s still waiting for the other shoe drop, she realizes.

“It means I’m less powerful,” he vomits out quickly, holding both hands up, palms facing her, “I swear-”

She breathlessly laughs, reaching up and grabbing his wrists, yanking until his hands are back to being limp as his sides, “I gathered that much, Astarion. I just haven’t heard the terms before. Brain full of holes, remember?”

His entire body relaxes slowly, shoulders slumping as he looks as though he has to fight rolling his eyes at her, “Ah, yes. Pardon my forgetfulness. I suppose this means you’ll be wanting a full history lesson on vampires, then? When we return to camp?”

It would certainly help. She can’t deny the way her curiosity burns and gnaws at her insides, desperate for more knowledge, especially when it concerns him. She could push him to his precipice, force him to exhume all that he is to her as soon as possible. That selfish and ravenous hunger would certainly be delighted. But she can also see all his hesitancy and discomfort with the topic. And for some unknown reason, her heart has no desire to corner him in that way.

“You don’t have to,” she tells him quietly, finally shuffling back an inch and giving him space, “I’d like to know more, of course, but only whenever you’re ready to tell me.”

She means it. Gods, she truly means it, even if the unknown infuriates her to no end.

His lips crack into a lopsided grin, “How… sweet of you. I fear it’ll never be something I’m particularly eager to indulge in, though. The sooner we get it over with, the better.”

She remembers the ache from the memory. The sharp pain, the stabbing twist at his words.

Nothing good. Nothing good awaits him back in Baldur’s Gate.

For all that Aruna wishes to learn more about Astarion, she also fears that it might mean finding out exactly what that nothing good might be. And she’s unsure if her heart, if her soul cleaved in two, will be able to handle the information once more.

“Just tell me when,” she forces herself to say steadily, holding his gaze. Nothing good. Nothing good waits for him. Nothing good. “And I’m all ears, my dearest Astarion.”

Something about her own version of the endearment echoed back in his direction leaves an ashen taste on her tongue.

He must taste it as well, as he cringes slightly. “Perhaps leave the flowery endearments to the professionals, my friend.”

It nearly goes over her head. Nearly the entire walk back to camp, she’s in ignorant bliss. But once she picks up on it, somewhere between Astarion’s grand tale of the night in which he’d hunted down the boar and him scolding her clumsiness as she bumps into yet another tree branch, she revels in the soft whisper of it.

He called her his friend . Something he has already claimed to have never experienced, and yet he’s bestowed the honor upon her .

It’s almost soft enough to override the pestering twisting of her gut regarding the mystery that remains the letter in her pack. Almost.

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#ghost's stories #the moon will sing #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion is not the sneaky vampire he thinks he is huh #i'm so fuckin excited for the next chapter i'm tempted to double post tonight lol #well. double post on here. it's been a few days over on ao3.#i... just might.

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meowsgirldrawing · 3 days

Text

Dear Husband

Notes:

(GN)Durge X Gale

Mentioned of (GN) X Astarion but it's more of Astarion just following them around.

Masterlist- Here

Ao3- Here

“What did you say?” Gale finally gets out after staring a good long minute.

Durge blinks, eyeing him weirdly. “Uh…I can’t wait to see my love?” They sling their bag down at their tent, “I know it’s cheesy but is it really the worst?”

Astarion, from his place at Tav’s side as they drop off a Githyanki plate to a usually frowning Lae’zel, ha ha’s! “If you call naming your boyfriend ‘your dear husband’ not the worst, then I honestly question your tastes, darling!”

Durge freezes, the owl bear sub pawing at their hip, cooing with a tilt of his head at their pause in adoring him with hugs and cuddles. As they do just about every time they return from a long day of adventuring. “...I didn’t say that.”

“Please,” Shadowheart snorted in her passerby walk, flashing blushing Gale a look, “I believe your exact words were, “Oh where is my dear husband? I can’t wait to see him!” She mocks in a tone similar to theirs, only a touch of flowery and pouring romance.

“No-I didn’t!” Durge steals a glance at the only wizard of the group, sees his beat red face and wide eyes, and immediately cuts contact, “I didn’t!”

Tav cuts in, waving a hand around dismissively. “Guys, guys, lay off our favorite Baalspawn, alright?”

“Thank you, Tav!”

“Just because they see Gale as a potential candidate of marriage doesn’t mean we need to tease them over it.” Durge’s expression immediately drops. Tav finishes as they smirk in their direction, “I say congratulations are more in order.”

Before Durge, or Gale for that matter, can say anything about how there is no real need for that, Lae’zel steps up to plate, head held high.

“Exactly. While I do not understand Fae-run’s traditions here completely, I say you’ve done well to announce the wizard as your own, Durge.” She nods at the gaping couple, mostly directed at Durge. “Use him well and keep him as your own for years to pass.”

“Gods..” Gale’s palm meets his face, rubbing his beard.

“Thank you…Lae-Bae.” They try amidst their grimacing face. It’s one thing to make jokes to their own lover about doing as they wish with him, his sly comments making him non too innocent either- but it’s another to know it’s known amongst their entire group of travel buddies. They know they aren’t quiet, but still-

Lae’zel nods dutifully, turning back to investigating the plates Tav dropped at her tent.

“Congratulations by the way-”

“Forget it, Astarion.” Gale groans.

Yet, as he glances towards the fidgeting Baalspawn of the group, for once their movements not of the Urge and the goblin butler making their annoyance presence known, but shot nerves instead, his eyes soften. As everyone finds their own entertainment elsewhere, the wizard manages to draw their attention to him.

To the unexpected counter to their worry, he smiles instead. Perking a brow up and tilting his head, longer locks falling like a small wave on his shoulder.

Their tadpole wiggles, connecting after getting a tug from his.

‘Husband?’ He playfully questions, as if astonished by the idea, nevermind slight teases in the past during the quietest moments.

Their cheeks flush and a hand plays at their nape, ‘Oh hush, like you're any better.’

‘Yes, well I could very well add (husband/wife/partner) if you so wish..’ His chuckles ring through their mind, pulsing more red to their ears.

Durge bites their cheek, glancing around before drawing back to him. A smirk crawls to their face, ‘Being called yours will do well too y’know…’ With that, they send a not so innocent image to his side, having picked up hints of his thoughts about their post-battle appearance all too easily the moment he connected tadpoles.

His own matches, ignoring the heat in his face, ‘Very well..I can work with that.’

#baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfic #baldurs gate gale #bg3 gale x durge #bg3 dark urge #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 astarion x tav #short fanfic #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #owl bear cub #cause it and durge are friends #baldurs gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 4 months

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Cure Wounds

Wyll Ravengard x male!OC

Super self-indulgent smut between my dnd OC Romero and Wyll. If you have any questions about Romero, please please please ask!! I love talking about him and some of the stuff I reference here is kinda "if you know you know" (like mentions of his family), so if you wanna know, please ask

Thank you @shenanigans-and-imagines for encouraging me to write more self-indulgent oc fics <333

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: swearing, scratching, marking each other (hickeys), bruises, brief mention of battle scars, anal fingering and sex, possibly OOC Wyll

Word Count: 4,364

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First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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“Do you remember how I used to heal you?”

Wyll chuckled, grinning at the mere memories that passed through his mind. “How could I forget? You would insist on kissing each bruise and cut, singing spells all the while.”

Warm sun flooded through the gauzy curtains that hung before the balcony doors. It warmed their skin, golden beams highlighting the scars they’d earned over their adventure to free their minds of tadpoles. It had turned out much more involved than any of them could have guessed. And despite the stories and tales that came of it, they were both quite glad for it to be over.

Romero lifted himself from his lover’s chest, the soft sheets slipping down his body as he supported himself on his arms to lean over his beloved. “I had to sing, it makes the spells more potent.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“I’m a bard! What about it sounds untrue?”

“That you only did such a thing with me, for starters,” Wyll said through a laugh. He reached up and carefully weaved his fingers through Romero’s long dreads, threading the thick strands between each digit and holding on lightly. It was always a treat to see his hair loose, rather than tied up by the ribbon he carried around. It fell wildly over his shoulders and framed his face. Wyll felt lucky to see him like this. “If anyone else were injured, a quick spell under your breath and they were right as rain.”

Romero leaned down until his chest pressed to Wyll’s, both rising and falling in a dance with each inhale and exhale. Their noses were only inches apart. Their eyes flickered about their faces, openly admiring the man they married. Sometimes, Wyll could not believe he had been so fortunate to stumble across Romero’s path thanks to that damned nautolid. After seven years, he remembered what it meant to be Wyll Ravengard, not only the Blade of Frontiers.

“Would you rather I’d kissed all their wounds, too?” the bard teased.

“Not as such, no, but I can’t help wondering why you did so with me.” When Romero smirked wide and devilish, he quickly added, “For reasons other than being your partner.”

Romero snickered, but he did not answer right away. His smile softened. “Because of my reputation, you mean?”

Wyll hummed, apologetically. “You weren’t exactly well known for long-term relationships.”

“No one in my family is - you’re perhaps the first among any of us to be properly courted.” He sighed softly and ducked his head to brush his nose along his neck, closing his eyes and appreciating the gift he’d been granted to indulge in this closeness. “I never did it to lure you into sex,” he assured in a whisper. “I never wished to pressure you like that… But I still wanted to love you, in the best way I knew how. Being able to kiss you - just kiss you - my love, it satisfied me more than an ocean of ale or banquet of roast meats ever could.”

Wyll let out a quiet breath. “Just to kiss me.”

“Even now,” he said, pulling back to speak face-to-face, “if you said for the rest of our days, this was all I could have: a cuddle and nothing else - I would never want for more.”

Their hearts thudded pleasantly against their ribs in a call-and-response of their souls, each beat like the skipping step of two lovestruck fools frolicking through an endless field of wildflowers, hand in hand. In all his past sexual encounters, never had Romero ever felt like this with anyone before Wyll. Never had his heart raced at the mere thought of a touch, nor had his mind been so consumed with thoughts of the other, no matter how mundane. It was addictive in its own right. And he prayed to any god willing to listen that this feeling would never fade.

Wyll smiled, warm and adoring, as his hand slipped from Romero’s hair to his cheek. “You can have much more than a cuddle, my love,” he promised. “No singing required.”

Chuckles and grins got in the way as he pulled his husband down to him, teeth clacking and lips barely brushing in the clumsy mess of it all. But it was wonderful. Once they could gather themselves, their laughs died down and the kiss became one for the ages: tender and gentle, yet full of passion.

Romero leaned more weight to one hand so he could tangle the other in Wyll’s hair. It had grown longer since the end of their quest. He took great pleasure in helping his beloved wash and retwist his locs, and he adored being able to tug on it in moments like this. Wyll vocalized his enjoyment with a groan, urging his head back further into the pillow despite his horns poking into the plush so he could follow the pull.

“How much more than a cuddle?” Romero teased into the kiss.

Wyll grabbed his waist and guided his lover to straddle his lap. Then he pushed himself up to a sit, chasing Romero’s lips, never wishing to be parted from them. He was free to do so, to experience moments like this not in one night of debauchery to be forgotten, but for years to come. He slid his hand along his back, pressing the bard closer. Romero acted in kind, one of his hands pulling him closer by his hair, and the other cradling his neck fondly. The calloused pad of his thumb stroked along Wyll’s scars, brushing along his stubble. When Wyll pulled away, Romero let him, but wouldn’t allow him to stray too far, pressing their foreheads together and sharing each breath.

He peered up at his lover with his one good eye, now a bloody red from Mizora’s punishment. Dark brown eyes looked back at him, blown with affection and lust. Even when he’d sprouted horns and ridges, he’d never looked at Wyll any differently. There was never disgust in his eyes directed at him. He left a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“As I said in my vows, Wyll Ravengard belongs to you.” he whispered. This close, he could feel the way Romero’s heart skipped a beat. The awe in his eyes - the full realization of what those words meant. I have your heart, and you have mine.

So long ago it seemed, when Romero flirted and fawned over Wyll, they kissed. A proper kiss, but it never went any further. Wyll wanted to do this properly, to wait. He could not have Romero’s body without first having his heart. And now he did, just as Romero had his.

Romero crashed his lips against Wyll’s, kissing him with as much passion and love as he could muster. His heart felt like it was bursting with love, almost painful as he desperately tried to be as close to his husband as possible. He slid a dextrous hand along Wyll’s spine, pushing his nightshirt up as he traced the ridges and scars that adorned his body. He pulled away from the kiss just long enough to maneuver the shirt over his horns and toss it to the floor, and then his hand was back in his hair, tugging him close, and his teeth were nipping at his plush lips.

“I love you,” he murmured in between each kiss. He couldn’t stop saying it. And Wyll couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot each time he did.

“I love you, too. By Balduran’s blade, I love you.” He worked quickly at the buttons of Romero’s shirt. It was half open already, as Romero loved to show off his chest and the tattoo on his right peck.

Once it was fully undone, he pushed his hands inside, caressing the warm skin now exposed to him. Romero sighed, arching his back just to have more contact. Gods, his skin was so soft. He felt down his back, up his sides, his stomach - everywhere he could reach. It would never be enough.

Wyll pulled away from the kiss, but his mouth immediately found purchase on his neck. The hand in his hair tightened, tugging and pressing him further into his skin, the other digging blunt nails into his shoulder. He could just imagine his beloved’s face. His eyes closed as he whines and begs for more, his mouth parted as he moans. When Wyll finds his pulse point just below his jaw, Romero won’t let him move until he sucks a mark into his skin, a pretty bruise that claimed ownership. He was certain he would have his own marks before all was done.

He trailed his mouth lower, lips brushing over his Adam’s apple and collarbones in open-mouth kisses. He deviated at his sternum to kiss and nip at his tattoo. It was a six-pointed star, denoting himself as a child of a famous bard who had more children than Wyll could fully wrap his head around. He traced each line, bit at each point, sucked at the open center. Romero groaned, craning his neck to place a kiss on Wyll’s head.

“My love, I need you,” he breathed. “Please.”

Wyll grabbed his waist and pressed to designate a side. He did not have the strength to push his love around, but Romero certainly did.

With arms wrapped around his neck, he was rolled over. Romero’s head fell back into the plush of pillows and Wyll was above him, trapped by the legs around his hips. He was tugged up by his horns into another crushing kiss. If their lips were not bruised and swollen, he would think it a miracle of the gods.

Romero slid his tongue along Wyll’s bottom lip. He opened his mouth instantly, moaning and tilting his head, wishing for more. He dug his nails into the bard’s hips, pushing down the hem of his sleep pants so he could grab even more, to trace his thumbs along the v-line that led like a pointing arrow to his arousal. His mouth watered at the idea of kissing along those creases, of marking his love where only he could see and enjoy. Of taking him into his mouth and placing his hands on his horns so he could be guided, used for his love to take all the pleasure he could ever want from him.

But not right now. They were too desperate to feel each other, to become as one. Soon, he told himself. He would make a whole day to spend with his love, with no politics or expectations, just to experience everything they could offer each other. One day.

His hands slid further into his pants, following his skin to grasp onto his ass and lift his hips up to grind against his own. They moaned into each other’s mouths at the slightest bit of friction. They could each feel just how aroused the other was. It was maddening.

He pulled away from the kiss, breathless. Romero loosened his hold on his hips, relaxing his legs so Wyll could sit up and push them apart further. They both looked like messes, he was sure, but he could not help admiring how beautiful his husband looked when he was so eager and marked up.

“Tell me what you want of me.” He guided Romero’s pants down his hips, lifting him up by his ass so he could slip them out from under him. Further still, his mismatched eyes could not tear from the beautiful half-lidded brown eyes of his lover as his cock sprung free from its cloth prison. He sidled back as he guided them down his legs. “Tell me everything you want me to do, and I will. Anything you ask of me,” he breathed, finally tossing the pants to the side and guiding one of his legs up so he could kiss his thigh, sucking at the skin by his knee, worshipping every inch he could, “say the word and it is yours.”

Gods, Romero’s head was spinning. A million images and desires flickered through his mind, ways to be taken and take in return, to taste and feel. The thoughts that filled his head, of Wyll in so many positions, so debauched and used, it would have sent him over the edge in an instant if he had been getting himself off. The mere prospect alone, of a partner who put themselves in another’s hands so easily, to be manipulated like putty to any whim or desire - it would occupy his every waking thought for weeks if he wasn’t careful.

“I need you to fuck me,” he told him. “I need to feel you inside of me, I need you to- Gods.” His hips bucked against air as Wyll slowly, so slowly, trailed his way down his inner thigh. Seeing his face so close to his aching cock had him flushing with arousal and want. “I need you to touch me and kiss me and just fucking fuck me, please.”

“So articulate,” Wyll teased against his skin. Romero whined. He’d never take it to heart; he fell apart so easily under Wyll, all flowery expressions of love were the first to devolve.

Wyll slid off the end of the bed to remove his pants, already much too hard and much too needy. Just the sight of his husband laid out on their shared bed, golden-brown skin gleaming in the sun’s morning rays, had his member twitching with anticipation.

He crawled back on the bed, over his lover, kissing him deeply as he reached into the nightstand for the bottle of oil. Romero grabbed Wyll’s hips and drew him down, grinding their dicks together. They moaned desperately, barely able to keep their mouths connected. Thanks to Mizora’s punishment, Wyll’s cock was lined with bumps and ridges. It had been extremely embarrassing at first, and a point of self-consciousness on their wedding night, but Romero had assured Wyll in multiple ways (though most often with his mouth) it was not an unwelcome part of his curse.

He poured a generous amount of oil into his hand and dropped the closed bottle on the bed beside them. With one hand, he pushed one of Romero’s legs up against his chest, and with the other he gently prodded at his entrance.

Romero hissed as a finger was slowly pushed inside him, followed soon after by another. He had to pull away to catch his breath, burying his face in Wyll’s neck as he wrapped his arms around Wyll. His fingers slid carefully in and out of him, pushing as far as they would reach and pulling out almost entirely before he pressed in again. Breathless curses fanned across Wyll’s scarred skin, mixed with little pecks and beautiful keening sounds, like music to his ears. When he was opened enough to push a third finger in, he felt Romero’s cock twitch against his, weeping with precum.

“Please,” he whimpered. He grabbed at Wyll’s ass, dug his nails in at his shoulder blade, trying to pull him as close as he possibly could. “I’m ready, I need you. Please, my love, need you inside me.”

He eased his fingers out of him and poured more oil into his hand. He rubbed it along his cock, knuckles brushing along the underside of Romero’s drawing out needy little breaths. He pulled back slightly to see what he was doing as he lined himself up. Romero’s stomach was already glistening with both their precum, the tell-tale drips of Wyll’s own decorating his cock. He had to restrain himself so he didn’t try to clean him up with his mouth.

Slowly, as gently as he could manage, the head of his cock pushed into his asshole. A guttural moan reverberated from the bard’s throat, choking off at the end as his cock pushed deeper and stretched him further.

It felt so fucking incredible. Tight walls clenching around him with the slightest movement, the heat enveloping him. Wyll groaned as he fully sheathed himself inside. He ran a hand along Romero’s side, caressing him and urging him to relax into it.

“If I ever get used to this feeling,” Wyll murmured by his ear, “I could be tempted to make another deal to remember it again.”

Romero chuckled airily, running a hand down Wyll’s locs and softly tangling his fingers in the ends. “Don’t worry, my prince, I’ll make sure you never get used to it.”

They laughed quietly together, holding each other close in a tender moment. When the laughter died down, Romero pulled his head from Wyll’s neck and kissed him. It was not lustful or desperate. It was slow and sweet, as if all time around them stopped just so they could indulge in this moment.

They pulled away slowly and pressed their foreheads together. Wyll looked at Romero so warmly, and so attentively, waiting for his signal before he moved again. They stayed there for a moment longer. Then, Romero nodded, and Wyll slowly pulled out.

They choked on shared air as the bumps and ridges lining Wyll’s cock grated and rubbed against Romero’s sensitive walls. Almost all the way out, he thrust slowly back in, fully seated once more. A pitiful whine came unbidden from his husband’s throat. He did not wait long before his hips were moving at a slow, consistent rhythm.

Someone swore, but Wyll couldn’t tell if it was him or Romero. The result was the same: Wyll picked up the pace, thrusting faster, losing himself to the pleasure, spurned on by every choked, panted breath and quiet plea for more, more, more. He pressed his cheek to Romero’s temple, wishing he could bury his face in his neck without risk of butting him with his horns. How he would happily ravage the skin there, feeling the vibration of his cries against his lips. Maybe Romero sensed the way he held back, felt the strain in his neck and shoulders not to give in lest he hurt his beloved, for he grabbed Wyll’s horn, pulled to make the young Duke crane his neck, and kissed feverishly over his pulse, his Adam’s apple, his jawline.

He sucked and bit a matching mark just below his jaw, where his heart could be felt strongest, as it raced and rushed with ecstasy. He cried Wyll’s name by his ear, before his words devolved into stammered nonsense before biting just under his earlobe in a lousy attempt to try getting his wits back.

Wyll pushed Romero’s other leg back against his chest, hands pressing under his knees to keep him contorted just like that. Gods, just like that.

He dug his nails into his skin, clawing at his flesh and urging himself to go faster, fuck him harder. He broke himself out of Romero’s hold to crash his mouth against his, open-mouthed and panting.

Birds chirped, greeting the new day. Down below, the market was waking up, stalls being set up and vendors chatting with each other. None of it mattered. None of it reached even the edge of their senses. Wyll growled and Romero swallowed it, responding with his own moan. Nothing else mattered.

Romero scratched at Wyll’s back and arched his own, longing to feel every inch of him that he could. Wyll hissed at the sting, but the pain faded from his mind when he was pulled close so the bard could hug him, crooning like the most beautiful songbird by his ear. Wyll felt the knuckles of Romero’s other hand brush his stomach as he stroked himself, fucking into his hand as Wyll’s thrusts became rushed and uneven.

“Love you,” Romero muttered breathlessly, choking on a moan. “Love you so much. ‘M yours. Gods, you have me. You have all of me. My beautiful prince.”

Wyll let go of one of his legs to cup his cheek. Romero immediately responded to the touch, moving to press his forehead to Wyll’s. His eyes fought through ecstasy to look up at him, half-lidded eyes squeezing tight before being forced open to see his husband.

“My handsome knight,” Wyll gasped. “So close.” His hips stuttered and his eyes shut, a whine leaving him as he pressed his forehead harder against his love’s. “Let me fill you. Let me fall apart with you. I want to be one with you, my love.”

Romero leaned up to kiss him, and Wyll responded in kind. His heart raced as his hips faltered, frantically thrusting as deep as he could possibly go, his pelvis crushing against Romero’s. He cried out, mouth falling open around his beloved’s name, panted and whining, lips still brushing against each other because they couldn’t bear the idea of parting.

His hot cum spilled in large spurts, driving Romero mad as he was filled. Romero tugged desperately at his cock, squeezing as his hips bucked up into his hand, until he finally found his release. A guttural groan morphed into a high-pitched whine as he worked himself through his orgasm, cum coating his stomach and hand. He only stopped when he became so oversensitive it hurt.

They laid there, panting, clinging to each other. Sweat glistened on their bodies in the mid-morning sun. Too soon they would have to greet the day, too soon Wyll would be dragged into courtly meetings and Romero would venture off into the city to help with what rebuilding he could. They wouldn’t see each other again until late in the evening, if they didn’t make an effort to share lunch together, and more often than not these days they had to forgo that small slice of domestic bliss. Staying here, even hot and sticky and sweaty, let them linger just that moment longer.

When Romero caught his breath, he slid his hand from Wyll’s shoulder to his cheek. He guided Wyll into a kiss once more, soft, barely even a brush of lips. Goosebumps trailed the young Duke’s skin at the delicacy. He should have known it would not last, however.

He felt the smirk grow on his lover’s lips before he saw it, and before he registered what mischief his love would pull now.

Romero trailed kisses along his cheek, down his jaw, and to the dark bruise he’d left at his pulse. It was sensitive to even the lightest brush, a slight hiss escaping Wyll when a kiss was placed over the darkest section. His lips brushed over it again, but before Wyll could scold him, the song-like whisper of Te curo hit his ears and the pain was gone.

He burst out laughing. He carefully slid out of Romero so he could sit back on his knees, still chuckling, his red eye gleaming with joy and fondness. “Do not tell me this was your plan all along.”

“It wasn’t!” Romero quickly assured him through a cackle. “But how could I resist? Far be it from me to leave a lover suffering because I couldn’t help myself.”

“I don’t know about ‘suffering’ - I quite liked it.” He brushed a thumb over the bruises at Romero’s neck. “And I know you did, but I suspect you’re not going to let me heal you.”

Romero chuckled, taking Wyll’s hand and curling his fingers so he could kiss his knuckles, asking playfully, “Would you like me to let you heal me?”

Wyll sighed, contemplative, a soft grin on his lips as he studied the constellations decorating his neck and chest. His love would walk down the streets of Baldur’s Gate, shirt wide open, marks on full display for the populace. It made Wyll flush just imagining it, but it stirred something unpleasant in his gut. As much as he loved marking his husband for himself to see, the thought of everyone else seeing it and knowing their private business made him feel exposed.

“Yes,” he finally answered. Romero smiled, understanding without words the thoughts going on in that head of his. He was always good at reading people, understanding their reasoning, how they thought, but he knew no one as well as he knew his husband.

Wyll slipped his hand from the warm grasp of his beloved, not without a kind squeeze to his fingers first. Romero watched in quiet admiration at the magical abilities of his love, as his hands performed practiced poses, glowing in mystical light. Wyll had a habit of casting his spells with a strong voice, like the words alone would strike terror into his foes. Even now, with a rough Sanitatem ius, a red elixir in a bottle forms itself in his hand.

He uncorks it and cups the back of the bard’s neck, lifting his head and bringing the lip of the bottle to his mouth. Romero didn’t take his eyes off Wyll’s, watching him with warm, dark eyes mellowed with overwhelming affection. He dutifully swallowed every ounce as his head was guided back to follow the tilt of the bottle, Adam’s apple bobbing and bruises already fading with each second. Once the bottle was empty, vanishing into thin air in a wisp of color, Wyll couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing him. His tongue ran along Romero’s lower lip, tasting the lingering flavor of liquid heat. A mere taste alone sent a jolt through his system.

He sighed softly, contentedly, as he slowly pulled away. “Come on, my love.” He slipped carefully off the end of the bed, legs aching from kneeling on them so long. He could only imagine Romero’s plight when he finally stretched out his legs with a quiet hiss, taking Wyll’s hand to help him off the bed. “It’s about time we got cleaned up.”

Romero rested a hand at Wyll’s lower back as they walked together to the bathroom. Wyll’s arm wrapped around his waist, tucked under the open shirt hanging from his shoulders, and rubbing mindless circles into his hip.

Wyll jolted when Romero playfully pinched his butt. The bard had a wide, stupid grin on his face. “I love you!”

Romero laughed as Wyll playfully shoved him away, just hard enough to have him stumbling. There was a bright smile on his face. “I love you, too, you damned fool.”

---

Fun fact: The spell Healing Elixir is a 1st level Warlock spell, and it didn't have a verbal phrase from bg3 that I could find. Te curo is latin for "I cure you", so I just translated "Healing Elixir" into latin to get "sanitatem ius" :)

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hydropyro · 2 months

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Blog Masterlist

This is more for me, but hopefully it also helps anyone who may be interested to navigate the chaotic black hole that is my blog.

This list links to more lists. Listception. Lists to lists below

My Original Work

Desert Reign - Looking for beta readers

Theories:

30 Minute Rant

Fan Fiction:

Webs of Fate - Fan fic where Abdirak is a companion

Blessed Agony - Tangential Smut for Webs of Fate

Deal with Devils - Haarlep makes a deal with Raphael

House of Hope - Raphael's relationships with Haarlep and Hope

Not Dead - Despite being killed by the tadpoled adventurers--

Progeny of Raphael - Raphael intercepts his child

The Fiddler Went Down to Faerun - Johnny looks for more competition after beating the Devil in Georgia

A Dinner Owed - Choose Your Own Adventure

Fan Ficlets:

Horus Crysst

Excerpts:

Angry Abdirak/Punishment

External Links:

Raphael Doublet Style Sweater

#sorting my life out #jk just my blog #Baldur's Gate 3 #Raphael Simp #Simpathy For The Devil #Alakvyr #Abdirak

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thornofarose01 · 7 months

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The Memories That Haunted Me: Chapter One

Masterlist

Chapter Two

Introduction: Xarene Eilsund, a drow monster hunter dragged into an adventure they could never even dream of. Infected with a tadpole that could turn them into a mind flayer in a matter of days, they set out to find a cure...

Word Count: 2,125

The events aboard the nautiloid were all a blur. Encountering an intellect devourer that appeared helpful, a Githyanki warrior woman, and saving a half-elf named Shadowheart from going down with the ship were all Xarene could put a finger on.

They lay there in the dirt for a moment, catching their breath. They had found themselves amongst the rubble of that ship. And yet, they were relatively unharmed. As if their fall was stopped by magic. It had to be by magic.

A small groan escaped their lips as they stood up, dusting themselves off. "Hells," they muttered as they looked around. Blood slicked the ground, soaking into the sand of the beach. Whether it belonged to the inhabitants of the nautiloid or the poor souls on the coast when it went down, they couldn't tell. It was most likely both. They staggered away from where they were lying.

There they found Shadowheart lying nearby. A strange, multifaceted artifact was sitting in her hand. The artifact that she seemed all too protective about when Xarene asked about it on the ship.

Xarene knelt next to her, gently shaking the half-elf by the shoulders. "Hey. Hey!" They whispered.

Shadowheart awoke with a soft groan before standing up. "You're alive. I'm alive," she muttered in astonishment before looking up at the drow. "How is this possible?"

Xarene shook their head. "I was hoping you might know that," they responded bluntly.

"I remember the ship... I remember falling. Then nothing."

"Well, now what?" they asked, crossing their arms.

Shadowheart looked around before returning her attention to them. "First things first we need supplies, shelter, and most of all, a healer. We might have escaped but we still have these little monsters in our heads."

The mind flayer parasites,Xarene reminded themselves. "We?" They repeated. "You want to stay together?"

"We need each other," she answered sternly. "We both know what's at stake. I can't think of better company."

Xarene nodded and turned to leave but Shadowheart continued. "One thing, before we go. I wanted to thank you again for freeing me. It would've been all too easy for you to run right past my pod, but you didn't. I'll remember that."

Xarene chuckled softly and nodded. "Of course," they said. "Now come on, we should find that gith we were with earlier."

The sand crunched under their feet as the duo walked, their path leading them to a crypt, or into the smoldering wreckage of the Nautiloid.

Just as Xarene turned to enter the wreck, the sound of scuttling drew their attention. A trio of intellect devourers were moving about the rubble. Without a second thought, the drow charged, slamming their sword down upon one with a sickening squelch.

Shadowheart ran to their side, readying her mace and attacking one of the others. Xarene gagged slightly at the noise of the mace meeting the intellect devourer's flesh.

The remaining one swiped at them with its claws but was met with a quickly cast fire bolt from Shadowheart. "You aren't hurt, are you?" she asked, looking Xarene over.

They shook their head. "Little shit got my armor, but not me," they responded, looking at the tear in the fabric of their pant leg. "Come on, let's keep going."

They made their way along a path once more, barely making it a few yards before a voice caught their attention. Ahead of them stood a man, strangely well-dressed, who seemed to be on high alert. A high elf. He looked over at the duo. The first thing Xarene noticed, besides his odd attire, was his red eyes. Then his hair, white curls that, if Xarene had to guess, was quite well maintained. As they continued eyeing him over, they noticed another thing. He was pale, his skin tone almost sickly. He seemed relieved when Xarene approached.

"I've got one of those... brain things... cornered," he stated, motioning to a patch of tall grass nearby. "There, in the grass. You can kill it, can't you?"

Xarene nodded. "I suppose I can," they shrugged, grabbing their sword once more. They approached the grass cautiously. The elven man seemed unarmed, so who were they to leave him in harm's way?

A rustle of grass and something darted out. A boar. Xarene started to turn only for the man to put a dagger at their throat. He pulled them to the ground, laying next to them with the blade still a mere inch from their neck. They grit their teeth and tried to squirm away. Before they could say anything, the man shushed them, as if talking to a pet or a small child.

"Not a sound," the man threatened, glaring at them. "Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours." He then glared up at Shadowheart. "And you. Keep your distance. No need for things to get messy."

Returning his attention to Xarene once more, he spoke. "Now, I saw you on the ship, didn't I?" he asked. "Nod."

Xarene growled again and slammed their forehead into his. The man pulled away in pain and surprise. "You son of a," he cut himself off as the two stood. Xarene reached for their sword again, keeping their eyes on the man who was threatening them.

That strange sensation- the parasite squirming behind their eye as it connected to someone else's- flared up again. The man felt it too, judging by the extreme discomfort on his face. A glimpse of a memory from his eyes appeared in their mind. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

"What was that? What's going on?" The man lost the threatening demeanor he had before, he seemed nervous.

"Honestly? I have no idea," Xarene spoke, still keeping a watchful eye on him. His dagger was still gripped tightly in his hand.

"It's those tentacled monsters," he responded. "Whatever they did- whatever they put in us- just created a connection." He seemed to relax a bit. "They took you too. I saw it during... whatever just happened." A coy smile etched its way onto his face. "And to think I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies."

"Glad to see we're caught up now," Xarene responded. They relaxed a bit, still keeping their distance from their would-be attacker.

"Indeed we are. Please, allow me to introduce myself," he put a hand to his chest. "My name's Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me."

"I'm Xarene. Just a wandering monster hunter. I was in the middle of tracking down another bounty when I was taken," Xarene responded.

Astarion smirked. "My my, you've been busy. Did you learn anything about these worms while wandering the ship?"

They shook their head. "I know we don't want them in our heads, that's for certain."

"These worms are already affecting me," he mumbled. "I can feel it. Now what to do about it..."

"We can start by traveling together. Better odds," Xarene said before looking over to Shadowheart for approval. She nodded slightly in response, but her expression remained skeptical.

"You know, I was ready to go this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea," Astarion nodded. "And anyone that can crash a mind flayer ship and walk away seems like a good person to know. Lead on."

"Let's hope any future acquaintances don't hold a blade to your throat by way of introduction," Shadowheart said as the group continued on their path yet again. Venturing into more of the remains of the nautiloid ship, the trio spied something all too familiar. One of the mind flayers had survived the crash as well, barely. It was pinned under something, most likely what used to be one of the ship walls.

The parasite lurched from inside Xarene's skull, reacting to the mind flayer's presence. They went from feeling annoyance to... pity. Pity?

Xarene shook their head, gritting their teeth and trying to pull away from the mind flayer's influence. It was trying to force them to spare it. A brief lapse in the mind flayer's focus was all it took, and they saw their moment. Slamming their foot down on the creature's skull, they ended its existence in this realm.

The route they were on began to reach a slight incline, Xarene dragging their boot against the stone to get the remnants of mind flayer blood and viscera off. An ancient sigil circle, a purple etching into the rocks lining one side of the path, was ahead of them. But something was... off about it. The magic was unstable, pouring from the sigil in a dark purple haze. Xarene cautiously approached. They reached out to the magic but instantly recoiled, a jolt running through their body.

And then something unexpected happened: a hand emerged from the centermost point in the swirling magic.

"A hand? Anyone?" A voice called out, clearly the owner of the arm. Xarene looked over at the others. Their expression spoke volumes. You guys are seeing this too, right?

They sighed and cracked their knuckles. Planting one foot firmly on the rock, they grabbed the hand and pulled with all their might. After another strong tug, Xarene and the man trapped in that strange magic tumbled to the ground. He got up, dusting himself off. He was a human, potentially the first human to join this group of elves and half-elves, if Xarene played their cards right. He had shoulder-length brown hair that seemed to be graying a bit, fair skin, and a neatly trimmed beard. He was dressed in an extravagant purple robe, just adding to his strange, magical aura.

"Hello," he said with a small smile. "I'm Gale of Waterdeep. Apologies, I'm usually better at this."

"At introductions?" Xarene asked, raising an eyebrow with a small laugh.

"At magic. It's a relief and a pleasure to make your acquaintance," He chuckled. "But I do know you, don't I? In a matter of speaking. You were on the nautiloid as well."

Xarene nodded. "We all were. But how in the hells were you stuck in that rock?"

"I don't know what transpired exactly, but the ship broke into pieces and I suddenly found myself in freefall," Gale explained, adding in a couple of dramatic hand movements. "As I was plummeting to certain death, I spied a glimmer quite near where I estimated my body would impact with less-than-savory propulsion.

"Recognizing this glimmer to be magical in nature, I reached out to it with a Weaving of words and found myself on the other side, as it were. How about you?" He asked. "How did you survive the fall."

"I survived, that's all that matters," Xarene shrugged.

"I quite agree, but I have the unfortunate suspicion your survival is still very much in jeopardy. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, were you not?"

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Xarene smiled slightly.

"No use sugarcoating it, is there?" Gale laughed. "The insertee we speak of. This parasite- are you aware that after a period of excruciating gestation, it will turn us into mind flayers? It's a process known as ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided."

Xarene grimaced slightly and looked over to their companions. Astarion seemed intrigued. Shadowheart, however, seemed unsettled, maybe even disgusted.

"You don't happen to be a cleric, by any chance, do you? A doctor? Surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?" Gale asked. The last question seemed to be in jest, but still desperate nonetheless.

Xarene looked toward Shadowheart, who spoke up. "You seem to know enough about our condition to realize it is beyond most clerics' skills."

"Most, no doubt. But I find myself hoping to be in the presence of the few. You don't happen to be one of them?" Gale asked.

Xarene shook their head in response.

"We're most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?"

"Sounds like a plan," Xarene nodded. "Join us."

"Most excellent! A parasite shared is a parasite halved. Or something to that extent." Gale beamed before seeming to realize something. "But before you think you're about to embark on a journey with most ill-mannered a man: thank you for pulling me out of that stone. It was an act of foresighted kindness, I assure you. I have the feeling ample opportunities will present themselves for me to return the favor."

Just like that, the trio became a group of four. A group of four that still had no idea where to turn to for a cure...

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate oc #original characters #bg3 oc #bg3 #oc fanfiction #oc fanfic #baldur's gate fanfiction #fic: the memories that haunted me #oc: xarene eilsund #xarene eilsund

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 2 years

Text

Supernova (Chapter 8)

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Bombs and minor character death.

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: As the daughter of Wonder Woman, you always knew you were destined for something more than the life of a mortal. It seemed like your wish for a life of adventure came true but whether in the form of a blessing or curse, you didn’t know. All you know is that you were the sole witness for a chain of murders that would begin. It’s up to you to find out who was the murderer before it’s too late……

A/N: I'm back?? Maybe? Also thank @tadpole-san for telling me to post

Supernova Masterlist

"Anyone have any questions?"

That was more of a rhetorical question. Batman had gone through the presentation very, very clearly but it had no assignment after it, so you were sure that those who did have questions didn't even voice it, choosing to go through the case file themselves later.

You, however, raised your hand and everyone's eyes slid towards you.

"Why exactly are they after me?"

At base value, you could see why that would be a stupid question and you didn't exactly hear it the way they did when you were thinking of something else. It wasn't until you saw everyone's faces did you realize what it sounded like and rushed to correct yourself.

"I mean, the case is made public now, as is all the evidence. Even though my name is censored out, my witness statement was also made public, and they now know that I don't exactly have any incriminating evidence against them. Everyone knows that I only saw 2 men take Mary Anne, which can be easily assumed by anybody. So, why are they after me?"

When the realization washed over everyone's face, you couldn't help the small smile that grew, proud that you had made a good point that no one else had thought of till then.

"We don't know for certain that they're still after you. The case became public after you came to the cave. So, I guess we'll just have to find out if they're still after you and if they are, then why." Batman followed.

"How're we going to do that?"

"By bringing you out to public and reactivating your social media accounts."

You let out a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a laugh, "There's no way my mother would let that happen."

Sure, it was kind of childish to bring up your mother and how she would never give you permission to pull a stunt like this, but you were the daughter of Wonder Woman, not some PTA mom that would at most ground you.

It was more like she would ground anybody who dared touch you.

And by that you mean she would put them 6 feet underground.

Goodbye Batman. It was nice knowing you.

"I'll take care of your mother. For now, you should post something about going to Gotham Park, since Gotham was the location for the most recent murder."

You nodded.

"I'll make sure there will be a league member nearby in case of anything and it'll be better for you to take only one person with you-"

"I'll do it!"

Everyone's head snapped towards Robin who was embarrassingly holding up his hand like he was called on by his teacher. You smiled at your lap, trying to hide just how warm your face got at his enthusiasm and even though you knew he could’ve hidden it, Batman smirked at his son.

Your "relationship" was fairly new, it had only been about a month since the kiss and you both had gotten slightly bolder since then. Not like much changed comparatively, you were usually very affectionate with Robin but now there were pecks and kisses shared when you met and before you parted.

Breaks in the middle of training were spent with Robin peppering kisses underneath your ear while you laughed and tried to wiggle away from him. After working out, you’d be in each other’s arms even though you both were sweating horribly.

And strangely enough, the thing that made your heart flutter the most were the stolen glances and the secret touches when the others were in the same room.

You weren't exactly saying it out loud and it was probably why most of the team had no idea. Well, you say most but Robin already secretly confided in Wally, and you just couldn't resist squealing to the girls about it.

So basically, Conner and Kaldur had no idea.

Well, Conner certainly had no idea.

Your mother had no idea either, considering you weren't speaking. She was still upset that you were trying to follow her footsteps and put yourself in danger this way, but you were trying to reason with her.

Now that she was slowly coming through and accepting the idea that you want to do this to avenge your friends, you were starting to think that maybe you want to continue being a hero even after this is all over.

Which only brings up your avoidance of the topic whenever your mom tries to get you to promise that you'll stop when the murderer is caught.

And then it escalates into an argument about how you are never satisfied with whatever freedom she has given you.

Your mom used to be your comfort and shade during difficult days. Call you a mommy's girl but you were oddly attached to her, and you had a stronger bond than any of the other members on the team had with their own parents. Maybe because you spent most of your years on Themiscyra when you should have been making friends.

Your mother was the most familiar and comfortable face among the island, considering that most of them were much older than you. You would spend a long day training or just going for a swim or a hike before coming back to your mother's embrace, both of you tanned and smiling brightly.

Now everything was just going wrong, and you were avoiding your mother to stop another argument. It had never been like this before. Yes, you fought from time to time and disagreed, but it always ended in a compromise.

This time only, you couldn't compromise.

Once the team cleared out and it was only you and Robin left in the briefing room, you couldn't help the teasing smile on your face, "Eager, are we?"

His cheeks went red from embarrassment that he couldn't control himself in front of his dad. God, he was going to hear about it back home and it was going to be so awkward, he'd consider jumping off a building. Alfred was still teasing about him cancelling last minute for prom.

You made your way to where he had hopped up on the table, and pecked his nose quickly, "You're too cute for your own good."

Embarrassed, he buried his head into your shoulder, hands coming to rest at your waist and whined. You chuckled, hugging him tightly before pulling away with a giddy smile, "I, for one, am excited for our first date."

A smirk made its way onto his face, and you were wondering what happened in the split second where he went from being bashful to this, "So, this is a date, huh?"

You pulled away, "If you don't want it to be then I guess—"

"No, no, I want it to be!" He recovered immediately, grabbing your elbows and pulling you back to him. You chuckled when his feet anchored the back of your knees and held you against him.

"I'll get the picnic." He said and you grinned brightly, "What do I bring?"

"Just your cute self."

***

Dick tried very hard to pretend that he didn't just go to Wally of all people for relationship advice. Everything was pretty much perfect between the two of you right now; you were always in sync, you always had something to talk about even though you spent so much time together.

Talking to Wally before going on your date was a bad idea considering he has said time and time again that he has no idea how he and Artemis even got together. Dick lamented even stopping by his room at all, considering the hot food in the picnic basket was getting colder and soggier by the second and the cold drinks were getting warmer.

Wally was absolutely useless, just telling him to lay on the charm when essentially this date was about to be chaperoned by two Justice League members.

Stupid Wally.

When he got to the Zeta platform, he realized that his heart was beating faster than he expected it to. So fast, that the fitness tracker on his wrist that was directly connected to the Bat Computer beeped, signalling that Dick had reached his target heart rate and that Alfred would find out about his first date jitters very soon.

Stupid Watch.

You were leaning over the railing of the platform, back facing him and if he was thinking like he usually would, he would've snuck up behind you and scared the living daylights out of you. But his brain seemed to be a step behind today, so he just cleared his throat.

You turned around with your hair looking all pretty, in a bright yellow sundress and an even brighter smile.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, and you mentally scolded yourself. You were used to spending time with Robin, you were comfortable with him but something about this being an "official" first date had you glitching.

You wore a dress to help with the amount of stress sweating you were doing even though you had to shave everything in the shower that afternoon and then put sunblock everywhere. It was probably why your skin was glistening like you were rubbed with butter. Ugh, you looked awful.

But Robin thought you looked damn gorgeous.

He stepped up to you, a few feet away from the zeta tube when he noticed you were holding something behind your back. For a split second he thought it was a gun before he was reminded that you were literally the sweetest person to ever roam the earth and berated himself.

You blushed, pulling out the bouquet of yellow tulips that you were hiding from his sight, "I got you flowers."

Well, technically M'Gann got them but same thing.

"So that we'd match." You added, pointing to the flowers on your sundress and he smiled. You switched what you were holding so that the picnic basket was in your hand and the bouquet was in his, leaving your other hand free so he could intertwine your fingers.

"You know that the second we step out of this tube we're gonna be monitored like lab rats, right?"

"Ugh, can't wait."

***

"Oh Charlie Puth. No doubt." You said definitively, taking a bite of the shawarma that Alfred had packed for the picnic. For a British man, he made it exceptionally well. The garlic sauce was just tying it all together so deliciously.

"What?! You mean to tell me that if I found your fourth-grade notebook, it would have (Y/N) Puth written all over it?" Robin asked exasperatedly and you giggled.

"And I'm not even sorry about it. I still think he's damn adorable."

That was true. Charlie Puth was one of the reasons you had a thing for brunettes, after getting over a particularly bad obsession for blonde boys. And that little notch in his brow was so cute.

"There's no way you'd be able to guess mine though." He mused and you turned to watch him with a critical eye before coming to your conclusion.

"Gabriella Montez." His eyes widened under the shades, and he sat up.

"What?! How did you know?!"

"Ya basic."

"And the chandelier crashed, and all the crystals exploded." Robin told you while you tried to drink your soda. Keyword being tried considering he was making you laugh so hard that it had more than once gone down the wrong pipe.

"You are such a menace! Poor Alfred!"

"Come on, you can't tell me you've never done anything like that?" He sassed and you leaned against the tree you were sitting beneath, thinking of a scenario that resembled his. You were quite the troublemaker when you were younger, being stuck on an island with hundreds of mother figures automatically made you the devil of the lot.

"Well, there was a time when I was a toddler that I accidentally locked my mother out on the balcony?" You recalled her telling you the story once, "She was drying out the clothes and I closed the door behind her."

"That's not a big deal, she could just jump up from there or break open the door." He dismissed, lying on his back beside you. You chuckled and reached over to tousle his hair. He shivered at the chill of your hand from when you were holding the cold can.

"Well, she didn't want to explain to our landlord how the balcony door suddenly got destroyed and she couldn't exactly jump when we were living on one of the busiest streets in DC." You giggled, trying to imagine the scenario. You obviously didn’t remember but you pictured it being pretty funny even though your mother was probably panicking at the thought of you being all alone in the apartment where anything could happen.

She always was a paranoid parent.

"So, picture Wonder Woman, standing from the 3rd story of a pretty tiny building with a toddler left unattended in the apartment, just screaming at the top of her lungs and trying to alert someone and get the landlord to open the door."

Robin smiled at that, his dorky glasses catching the sunlight in a bad angle and nearly blinding you. The bark of the tree was digging into your skin, and you shuffled forward to avoid it, making sure the jacket that Robin laid across your lap stayed in place so you could move comfortably without worrying about flashing someone.

"And you called me a menace."

"You know what cartoon that reminds me of?"

"Dennis the Menace."

"Exactly!" You beamed, gazing down at where he lay in your lap.

"Okay it's been 3 hours of me listening to Robin trying to convince you that Charlie Puth isn't as cute as you think he is." Came Green Arrow's voice over the com set. Surprised, you looked at your watch to realize he was right, it had been nearly 5 hours on the date, and you had yet to be interrupted by a murderer.

Robin had gotten a red alert about 20 minutes ago for a mission that he would have to miss. The others had probably already left, so did the other League member for another mission, leaving Green Arrow to wrap things up.

You began packing your stuff up, the poor blanket that had been shielding you from the wet grass for hours was all dirty and covered in mud. You hoped it wouldn't stain.

"Why were you listening though?" Robin asked and you nodded, wondering about it yourself.

It was silent for a while.

"I wanted to know just how he could justify Charlie Puth not being cute." Came a bashful response and you turned to Robin with a smirk, who looked like someone had just stepped on his grave to take a picture with his tombstone.

"I told you, everyone loves the eyebrow notch."

"Well joke's on you, GA, Canary said she thinks Bruce Wayne is a fox." Even though he practically gagged saying the sentence, it was totally worth it when he heard the flabbergasted shout of the older man through the com set. You nuzzled into his jacket that he insisted you put on once it started to get a little windy, giggling at the mischievous smirk on his face.

You chuckled, "Menace."

He stole a quick peck, grabbing the picnic basket from your hand and before you knew it, the bouquet you had gifted him was back in your hands, "That I am."

***

“Sorry, you had to miss out on the mission to get me back here.” You said, only half apologetic because you had so much fun with him today. Robin spared you a smile, telling you it was no big deal, and you squeezed his hand in response. The both of you had just zeta-ed back and GA had joined the other members for a mission. It was only the two of you left behind in the cave.

“Thanks for taking me out to check if I was still a murder target.” You grinned, stopping in your tracks to kiss his cheek.

Robin chuckled, “Thanks for not getting murdered.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The moment was unfortunately interrupted by a beep from his watch, and you looked over curiously to see a mission alert flash. Your brows furrowed, another mission alert? The team had already left for a reported terrorist attack in India and so did most of the League members for a reported attack by Amazo in Kenya.

The two of you were the only ones left.

“Do you usually get so many mission alerts in a day?”

He turned to you with an apprehensive frown, “No, usually so many missions in a day means that somehow someone knew about it.”

He pulled up the alert onto the holo-computer and your eyes widened at the report. A bomb was counting down at the Arkham detention facility where Valerie’s killer was being held. It was stated that the police were in the process of evacuating everyone within the radius of the explosive, but the bomb squad were unable to proceed. You wondered why that was.

Robin turned to you with a firm look, “One minute to suit up. Meet me by the zeta tubes.”

You nodded.

***

The place was in chaos, one would have thought the bomb already went off. The detention centre was flashing red lights and had a blaring alarm, alerting everyone to run out. The police and fire department were outside, getting people into squad cars and evacuating them to a safe distance.

“There are other criminals locked in, but we can’t open the doors.” Said the police officer, “The doors are reinforced, and our battering rams won’t get through.”

You nodded, running through the halls and to the detention and interrogation rooms with a squad following the both of you. Your heart was thrumming through your chest as you rammed your shoulder against the door, slamming it open with brute strength and letting the officers guide the criminals away.

You kicked another door in, noticing that this criminal was handcuffed to the interrogation table and yanked on the chain so hard it crumbled. It took a few minutes to get all the other doors open while Robin hacked into the computer system and tried to disable the locking mechanisms.

When you got to the final door, the muffled sound of the bomb beeping got slightly louder, and you nudged Robin behind you before kicking down the door. Inside the room, strapped to a chair in a straitjacket was Thelma, looking even worse since you last saw her. Her hair was dirty and frizzy. Her face looked sunken and haggard and the glasses resting on her nose were cracked.

But when she saw you and Robin, she grinned widely. Through her skin, you could see a faint red light flashing and your eyes widened. The bomb was inside her. And there was no telling when it would explode.

“Get out of here! It’s going to go off!” You shouted to the officers, who took your word and began evacuating, telling the firefighters and police officers to take as many civilians as possible and bystanders and get them out of the area.

Robin and you rushed to Thelma and ripped off her restraints before you gripped her by her throat, “How to shut it off?!”

She grinned madly, eyes unfocused like she hadn’t even heard you, “Just the two I was expecting. I have a little gift for you.”

Dick’s heart pounded through his ears with panic. He had alerted the rest of the league before leaving but it seemed that none of them were responding, busy with their own missions. There was no telling what kind of bomb this was and how to get to it. He didn’t know when it was going to go off and if the civilians had made a safe distance away from the explosion radius. This was going to end badly.

“How to turn it off?!” You shouted, shaking her shoulders frantically but her head just lolled lifelessly, still grinning at you sickly and you swallowed the bile that was crawling up your throat.

“My gift. I have a gift for you both.” She babbled, drooling slightly from the corner of her mouth and you breathed heavily, trying to find a solution but coming up naught. There was nothing you could do to get the bomb out of her and if you stayed any longer, there was a large chance you’d end up leaving the planet along with her.

The beeping of the bomb picked up in frequency and you both exchanged a panicked look. Even though it felt wrong, you left Thelma where she was sitting on the chair before you rammed against the barred window of her cell and it shattered into a million pieces, some sinking into your skin, and you whimpered before both you and Robin jumped from the building.

With an arm around your waist, he used his grappling hook to help you both land before you took off into a run. You didn’t even leave the enclosure of the building before the explosion went off and in instinct, you covered Robin with your body as the building crumbled.

Luckily you were far enough that the large debris didn’t directly hit you, instead it fell a short distance to the ground, and you were pelted with multiple tiny pebbles that exploded in a chaos. Any larger pieces that headed for you were either destroyed with his exploding birdarang or smashed into dust by you.

There was another loud sequence of beeps and you turned to each other in alarm, scared another bomb was about to go off.

And it did, except instead of a building exploding, it was like someone set off a confetti canon.

From the sky, slips of paper began raining down and you snatched one from the air, gasping when you realized what was in your hand. Your stomach turned and you felt your lunch crawl up your throat. Your hands were shaking, unintentionally crumbling it in your grip. The papers fell to the ground around you, the images and words drawn on it was taunting the both of you.

A tarot.

With the word ‘Megara’ scrawled across it in blood red.

Trembling, you raised your eyes to meet Robin’s who was equally shaken. So, this was the gift that Thelma was talking about. The gift that she had died to give you.

Only, which one of you was the tarot meant for?

***

In Greek mythology, Megara was the oldest daughter of Creon, king of Thebes. Megara was offered by her father to Hercules because he defended Thebes. She was killed Hercules in his madness caused by Hera.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@hanbedumbaf

@superheroesaremyjam113263

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

Supernova Taglist:

@tinybeantm

@adc2016

@seoulnights5

@renjunvrse

@brightjimini

@mad4hugs

@uniyasi

@wierdlypineapple

@mono--moonchild

@smol-book-nerd

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