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unluckiestmember · 4 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 X Innocent! Reader

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

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

Warning: SFW. Light suggestive themes.

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

Astarion Ancunin

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

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

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

Shadowheart

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

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

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

Gale Dekarios

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

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

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

Lae’zel

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

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

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

Wyll Ravengard

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

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

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

Karlach

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

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

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

Halsin

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

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

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

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

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

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aizawas-dryeye · 27 days

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➭kissing headcanons (baldur’s gate)

content: smoochin, slightly suggestive, fluff, astarion, wyll, lae’zel, gale, shadowheart, halsin, karlach

words: 1.3k

oh to kiss these lil guys

• • •

❊ Astarion:

You have your first kiss during yall lil date at the tiefling party. You can't deny the way it takes your breath away, but there's something in the way he does it. The way his lips move and the way his tongue grazes yours, it feels rehearsed. After many dark nights, he perfected the most addicting kiss to lure in prey— he knows what makes people tremble— and he uses it to his advantage. It makes you feel so flustered and desired, and it works as promised, from that point on you're whipped.

But, as your relationship grows, and Astarion becomes more trusting, the kisses are tender. Almost shy. It makes your heart absolutely swell, knowing that he's slowly figuring out what he's ok with. And he always has a furious blush on his face after he places a sweet kiss to your lips. And when he's comfortable, he's giving you kisses every chance he can. Not to seduce you or lure you into vulnerability, but just to kiss you. To be close on his terms. He'll even welcome you initiating, and lovesss a cheek kiss.

❊ Wyll:

(I started writing this before the new kisses dropped andddddd its exactly what I had in mind) Have you ever wanted to kiss a disney prince? Yea yea that's what it's like. It's so romantic every time, his strong arms always wrapped around your waist to hold you close. You very nearly lose yourself every time he kisses you, like ugh he knows exactly what he's doing. Always kissing your knuckles with a bow like a prince, always pulling you in and smiling against your lips. He's definitely the type to make out for hours while you snuggle.

He never does short kisses either. If he gets the opportunity, he's leaving a long, passionate kiss on your lips every single time. It also makes him laugh how the other camp members yell about 'getting a room' or making gagging faces. I could totally see him kissing you during battle, think that one scene in pirates of the caribbean. Ugh he's such a hopeless romantic it's so so hard not to fall in love all over again whenever his lips touch yours. (Also if you kiss His knuckles it makes him blush soooo fucking hard like he's adorable).

❊ Lae'zel:

Very short kisses and never in front of the others. At least at first. When the two of you first start getting close, kisses are somewhat rare, and they're quick little pecks if anything. HOOOOWWWEVER get a little alcohol in her and bring her to a secluded spot? and she's on you like white on rice bitch. Deep passionate kisses with plenty of bites, and her claws digging into your clothes type shit. I feel like once she gets closer and more comfortable she'll give you longer kisses in front of others but they are still pretty rare. Lae'zell likes her privacy and PDA is still pretty much a no no, unless you're in danger if that makes sense. Like if you get into trouble and are badly hurt she'll rush over and tend to your wounds and offer little kisses on your face.

Also if you ever kiss her head she'll just sit there completely shocked for like a minute straight, with that cute lil confused puppy expression. If you try and kiss her nose though? Death LOLLLL.

❊ Gale:

The first kiss with Gale is sweet and only a little awkward. Gale probably says some dumb shit like "Ah, forgive me. It's been more than a while since I've kissed a material being," and it makes you laugh. He's a fast learner though and soon has you swooning over every kiss he has to offer. Loves to laze around in bed with you while he reads so he can leave sweet, almost mindless kisses to your head and cheek. The easiest way to pull that nerd from a book is to lay on his belly and kiss him all over. He might complain at first but if you kiss his neck it's over with. Motherfucker is sooooo ticklish there that it immediately breaks down any resistance. EW and his laugh is so fucking cute, he definitely snorts.

Sometimes his beard hairs tickle you if y'all are like Really kissing and he always feels so bad lmao. Like immediately trimming his shit every time it happens even though you reassure time and time again him that you literally do not care. It's not like you mind the beard burn in other places after all wink wink.

❊ Shadowheart:

She definitely gives the sweetest kisses. You can always tell when she wants a kiss because she'll start smiling and leaning against you. I don't think she would initiate a kiss at first, but they are always welcome. She especially loves forehead kisses or kisses against her hair. Makes her feel like a precious little doll and the blush that comes afterwards is to die for. Kiss the hand that Shar shocks and she'll cry, truly. From anyone else she'd find it almost corny, but she has a soft spot for you hehe.

Also she gets sooo giggly when you kiss attack her, like all over her face, ears, neck. It honestly surprises you the first time it happens, but her laughter is so sweet so you continue to do so (when the moment strikes of course). Whenever she gets more comfortable she might even start initiating kisses by coming up to you and puckering her lips wordlessly. ACK she's so fucking cute I can't.

❊ Halsin:

*trembling* b big daddy halsin... He loves loves loves kisses!! Anytime any place bitch. I don't know why but the voices tell me he likes his ears, and the part of his jaw just below his earlobe, being kissed. He's a big ol boy so it's not often someone can even reach that part of him so it's like extra special.

Definitely the most passionate kisser behind Wyll, but they're nearly neck and neck when it comes to romance. It's something about being wrapped up in his fuckin tree trunk arms that makes you melt into a squishy puddle every time. You're like clay in his hands, and you feel it even more so when he massages you lol. Always leaves kisses (maybe more) on your shoulders and spine when he does. He could get you to do almost anything if he offered you a kiss after. Oh and he also loves when you kiss his nose while he's in his wildshape. Plus who doesn't wanna smooch a real life teddy bear?

❊ Karlach:

The first time you FINALLY get to kiss her, she's honestly terrified and so excited she could totally puke. She just squeezes her eyes shut, bends down a little, and lets you peck her on the lips. The gasp she lets out is so fucking cute!! And she almost immediately scoops you up in a bone-crushing hug and smooshes your lips together. It's not the most elegant or gentle kiss in the world but it's full of passion and love and it makes her so giddy she's shaking. Thank the fucking gods her heart is better because even if you would have been able to touch her at first, her chest would most likely explode from nerves.

Definitely the most needy companion when it comes to kisses, like she needs them constantly. Waking up? Kisses. Going to sleep? Kisses. Before and after a battle? Leaving to pee? Eating dinner? Getting ready in the morning? KISSES!!! If you exist in her space her lips are on you more often than not, but like you can't blame her.

#cant sleep so im back on my headcanon bullshit #baldurs gate #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fluff #baldurs gate headcanons #astarion #wyll ravengard #lae’zel #gale dekarios #shadowheart #halsin #karlach

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mimsynims · 6 months

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Fool For Love

part 3

~~~

part 1, part 2

~~~

Author’s Note: First of all, thank you for the lovely comments! 🥰 Second, I’m writing this as I go, so while I’ll try to post every other day, it might come a point when I’m not done on time. Just so you know if it suddenly takes longer for the next part to be posted.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… now you do. And you’re not handling it very well.

~~~

It’s almost sundown when you and the others are back at the camp again. It’s been a good day, all in all. You were able to stock up on potions and scrolls, and Karlach sweet-talked her way into a good deal on a handaxe. Not that you were there to watch it happen — Halsin’s favour had you talking to both the new leader of the Druids, Francesca, and Rath, the latter engaging you in a longer conversation than originally planned. Not that you minded, Rath is a good conversationalist. And quite handsome.

Yes, you did notice, but you kept it polite, not at all in the mood for flirting. Not when your thoughts continuously drifted back to a certain vampire that declined tagging along at the last minute.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but your eyes roam Halsin’s tent when you search him out to relay the information you gathered today. It’s probably a coincidence that Astarion decided to remain, but you can’t help but look for signs of someone sharing Halsin’s bed.

If Halsin sees you snooping, he doesn’t confront you about it, and you feel silly when you leave him to find the others. Who he sleeps with is none of your business, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Either you get over yourself, or you let Astarion go.

Which is easier said than done.

“Hey Karlach, let me see that axe of yours.” The rest of your party is gathered around the fire, preparing tonight’s meal. “From what I hear, I should bring you every time I need to haggle down the price for something.”

“Look at this beauty!” Karlach happily shows you her new weapon. “I’m going to polish it tomorrow, really bring out the shine it deserves.”

“How come you weren’t there, Tav?” Astarion sounds nonchalant, like he couldn’t care less but decides to ask anyway.

“I believe Tav had more important things to do.” Trust Lae’zel to come to your rescue.

“Halsin wanted some updates from the Grove,” you add.

“Mhmm, but surely that’s not the only reason why you talked for so long with Rath, Tav?” Shadowheart teases. “It seemed like you two really hit it off.”

“Yeah, he’s cute, Tav. Go for it!”

You want to look at Astarion, but you force yourself to turn your attention to Karlach instead, making sure to sound as casual as possible. “He’s nice, but…” You already have someone. “Perhaps you should go for him, Karlach, if you find him cute?”

“Nah, I have my eyes on someone else.”

It’s adorable, the way she lights up, and you wish you could hug her. “Hmmm, might this be a blacksmith we all know?”

“Tav!”

“This is secret to none, Karlach,” Lae’zel says. “Even a blind fool couldn’t help but notice the way you swooned when he helped you in the Grove.”

“I didn’t swoon!”

“There was definitely some swooning happening,” Shadowheart chimes in. “We all saw it.”

“Aaaanyway…! This was about Tav, not me.”

Dammit. You should’ve left for your tent when you had the chance. “No, no, I think we should talk more about you and Dammon.”

“Come on, Tav.”

“Yes, Tav, tell us all about your conversation with Rath.”

For a moment you somehow forgot that Astarion is there, too. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s just nice and easy to talk to.”

“Hmm, you’re not very convincing, Tav.”

With a groan, you turn to the wizard. “Not you too, Gale.” For someone so hung up on his ex, he sure looks jealous over the fact that you might be interested in someone else. “I know you all probably only mean well, but if you don’t drop this right now…”

You expect either Astarion or Lae’zel to make some kind of comment, but none of your companions say a peep. There’s an awkward silence for a few tension-filled moments and you wonder if you sounded too harsh. They only want your best, after all.

Thankfully, Shadowheart steps in, clearing her throat. “I think our food is ready.”

Once you sit down to eat, you watch them all as they talk and laugh. It feels like usual again, and you’re reminded how lucky you are to have come across such amazing people in this extraordinary situation life put you in.

Your gaze rests a little bit longer on your lover. He’s always beautiful, but it’s entrancing the way the flickering flames seem to caress his cheekbones, the arch of his nose. His smile. He’s laughing at something Lae’zel just said, and going by the look on her face, it wasn’t meant to be funny.

It’s quite the motley crew you’re leading — and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

You freeze when you suddenly find yourself locking eyes with Astarion. He isn’t supposed to catch you staring, and you quickly look away even though you know it’s too late. You wait a few minutes, and when you glance in his direction again, he’s talking to Gale.

Why must it be so difficult? Are you making it more difficult than it needs to be? You want to be with him and only him, so why not just ask it of him? If he says no, you’ll at least know instead of always wondering. And if he says yes, maybe he’ll grow to love you back.

Once again, you wish you had someone to talk to — and after today you think you can confide in Karlach — but it feels good to have come to a decision. Hopefully you can get him alone after dinner, because you would prefer to have it done before the stargazing Gale has planned.

You allow yourself to imagine the two of you lying next to each other in the grass, holding hands, smiling. Or his arm around you, holding you near.

You refuse to think about the other option, even though it’s the far more likely outcome.

For now, you’re going to pretend that everything’s going to be alright.

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #fic wip #bg3 spoilers

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chaoticbardlady99 · 6 months

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Hi! Could you do some smut/fluff Astarion x f! tav or f!reader fic? Would be really appreciated!

"Joybringer" Astarion x Reader MDNI 18+

I have put a NSFW warning before and after the explicit content (I was bright red writing it and it's my first time writing smut so please be kind).

Warnings: NSFW, fluff (possibly shameless, but I don't know)

*Not my photo

Astarion had never been a romantic. He was great at faking romance, but not genuine romance. Not by any fault of his own. He’s sure if he hadn’t been turned into a Vampire Spawn he would have had all the men and women in Baldur’s gate swooning with how romantic he could be.

He had become bitter about having warm feelings for another person until he had met you. You helped him kill Cazador, regain his freedom, and you gave him the opportunity to explore who he really is outside of being someone’s ‘possession’.

And today just so happened to be your birthday. You sat with your companions in Elfsong Tavern, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Karlach had insisted on celebrating despite all your protesting. Karlach was able to convince the rest of the group by promising to pay for their drinks and that the event would boost morale.

However, Astarion was all nerves as he walked over to the table. Your present in his pocket.

This whole journey had been unexpected for you- being a cleric of Lliira had not prepared you for the strange, scary places you and your companions travelled to. Places where you worried the joybringer would not follow and Astarion knew that you were extremely homesick. You had told him about the parties, the joy that Lliira’s Clerics are supposed to bring, and how it was difficult on you to kill your enemies.

You had a good, kind heart which is what attracted him to you in the first place. Albeit, it was really annoying at the beginning, but he realized you weren’t attempting to be a hero- you were just being yourself.

You had an infectious bright smile when the journey began. He sees you smiling now and despite the alcohol in your system, there is still a twinge sadness to your smile. So, for your birthday, he managed to find a shop in Baldur’s Gate that sold an authentic Lliira amulet. It was warm to the touch and even he admitted that looking at the necklace had put him in a better mood. Maybe there is something to this whole ‘Joybringer’ Goddess after all.

You haven’t noticed him yet. He redirects and goes over to the Bard, a human male with a lute. He is strumming with a bored look in his eyes.

“Well hello,” Astarion says to the bard.

The bard looks at him unimpressed, “Wait, don’t tell me. You want me to play something soft and sweet for a slow dance.”

Astarion bites his tongue and manages to keep his composure.

“No,” the bard looked at Astarion with surprise, “I was actually hoping you could play something livelier. Maybe music better suited for dancing?”

The bard’s eyes glow with a spark that wasn’t there before as he begins to play a lively tune, encouraging everyone to dance and sing along.

Astarion glides over to you as you stare at the Bard with confusion and a shocked happiness. Astarion taps on your shoulder and you look up at him with round eyes. His heart melts instantly.

“Hello my love,” he says with a soft smile, “may I have this dance?”

You take his hand enthusiastically as you both dance and drink the night away with your companions.

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NSFW Below

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Before you knew what was happening, Astarion had your back up against the door while he kissed up your jaw and down your neck. He opens the door and you grab his shirt for support as your balance gives way, but he picks you up by the back of your thighs. You wrap your legs around his torso eagerly. You kiss each other as if you are starving- all teeth and tongue. He cuts your bottom lips with his fangs and takes the opportunity to pull your bottom lip into his mouth, licking the blood away.

You moan involuntarily, sliding your fingers up into his hair. He growls as he puts you down on the bed, hovering above you.

He makes quick work of your clothes and begins to kiss down your body. He starts at your jaw again, leaving more kisses down your neck and occasionally nipping the skin. You whimper as he makes his way down to your breasts. He cups and pinches the nipple of one of your breasts while his mouth ravages the other. Your hips buck up into his erection as you arch your back. He holds your hips down with both of his hands as he slowly moves his mouth to the other breast and begins to roll your nipple between his teeth. You are panting with arousal now, unable to think clearly. You need him.

“As- AStarion, “ you whine, “please!”

“Please, what my pet?” he says as he slowly makes his way down to your wanting heat.

“Fuck me.”

Your bluntness had an effect on him. You could see from the way his eyes became darker with lust and a beautiful smile painted across his lips.

“Patience my love.”

“But-”

You are cut off by him slowly flicking his tongue along your clit as he inserts one of his fingers inside of you. He groans looking at you and then pulls his finger out. You whimper in response. He smirks before slowly licking your arousal off his fingers, humming.

“Gods, you are delectable.”

Then he pushes his finger inside you again, hitting the right spot every time. You are practically screaming out in pleasure as he inserts a second finger and returns his mouth’s attention back to your clit. He sucks and nips gently at your sensitive bud before kissing your thigh. He looks up at you as if to ask for permission and you shake your head yes. He bites into your thigh, the pain quickly being soothed by a comforting numbness and your orgasm ripping through you. His eyes watch you as you ride your high- panting and crying out because of him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, chasing your orgasm.

He removes his fingers and you look at him with lustful eyes as he removes his clothing. You swear he is unreal- no one is that incredible to look at. Your eyes drink him in as he covers his body with yours. Then you divert them out of embarrassment when he looks you in the eyes. He grabs you gently by the jaw, making you look at him. You look in his eyes and see tears threatening to slide down his face.

“Gods you are beautiful,” he says with admiration in his voice, “everything about you.”

He kisses your left cheek and then your right.

“Your body”

He kisses your eyes.

“Your soul.”

He kisses your forehead.

“And your mind.”

Before he gently kisses your lips, gaining dominance. He stops for a second and says against your lips, “Thank you for giving me the privilege of loving you.”

You smile brightly at him and rub your nose against his.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you say softly, “you have given me more than love. You have given me your trust and bared your soul to me despite how afraid you were.”

He stares at you with wide eyes.

“So Astarion, thank you for giving me the rare privilege of loving you.”

He presses his mouth hard against yours, you feel his tears run down your cheeks. He lines himself up with your entrance and gently begins to push inside of you. You accept him easily due to the previous mess he had made. He groans against your mouth, resting his forehead against yours as he slips inside you. Your hands fly around his neck as he begins to thrust into you. His pace starts out slow and quickly becomes hard and fast- your second orgasm causes your legs to start shaking. You feel more and more sensitive as he continues to pound into you. Your collective cries of pleasure echo through the room with the sound of him pounding into you- skin slapping skin. You were almost certain you heard Lae’zel knock on the wall from the otherside, but you were both too tangled in your pleasure to care.

“Fuck,” he says through clenched teeth, “fuck, I’m going to cum.”

His hips begin to crash into yours erratically as he grabs your ass, lifting you up to give him more leverage. You keep eye contact with him as he thrusts into you, his eyes filled with lust. He falls on top of you as you feel him pulse inside you, spilling his seed into you before rolling onto his side and clutching you to his chest. He kisses your hair gently giving you gentle praises.

“You were so good for me, Pet,” he teases, “you took me so well. Maybe too well. We may have some apologizing to do tomorrow.”

You crinkle your nose in embarrassment as you feel the blush make it’s way across your cheeks. He lets out a hearty genuine laugh as he burrows his face into your neck.

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NSFW end

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You lazily hold each other, drawing unrecognizable shapes and patterns on each other’s skin. You look at Astarion with a wide smile.

“I think this might be the best birthday yet.”

He smiles at you before his eyes widen in surprise and he leaps up from out of the bed, rushing over to his discarded pants.

“Astarion,” you say with concern in your voice as you pull the blanket up above your chest, “is everything okay?”

He comes back and gives you a chaste kiss on your lips while giving you a breathless smile.

“Of course my love,” he hands you a box, “I just almost forgot to give you your birthday gift.”

You look at him with faux disappointment, “I thought I told you not to get me anything!”

“Oh hush! Just open the damn thing.”

You giggle as you tear the paper and open the box. Your mouth widens as you see the Amulet of Lliira.

“Where did you find this?” you whisper.

Astarion shifts uncomfortably, not able to gauge how you feel by your reaction.

“I found it at a second hand jewelry shop in town. The woman said it used to belong to a Cleric,” he says a little too quickly, “I thought it may make you feel less… homesick, but if you hate it, you definitely don’t have to wear it. I won’t be offended.”

Astarion lets out a nervous laugh as you make eye contact with him, tears pricking your eyes as you fling your arms around him. He tenses at first, but then holds you back tightly. You smell like lemongrass and sex. He wants to commit everything about you to memory.

He is disappointed when you pull back to look at him as he was enjoying listening to your pulse thrum in your neck and taking in your essence. Except, he’s glad he can see your face now because it has the biggest grin he has ever seen.

“This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you pause, staring at him lovingly, “I love it so much. I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more,” he says sighing with relief as you shake your head at him.

He puts the box on the side table and pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest. He plays with your hair as your breathing slows and you fall asleep. Astarion kisses your forehead, feeling the warm energy from the necklace radiating throughout the room- as if to say that Lliira herself approves of your union.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanart #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x the dark urge #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate

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amywritesthings · 4 months

Text

part four: the dance. / astarion x tav

the better strategy series.

pairing: astarion x tav (she/her) word count: 4.5k summary: jaheira organizes a makeshift winter's ball at the last light inn. astarion loses sight of his own game and asks tav for a dance. tags: winter themed, waltzing, dancing, last light in reimagining, romantic/sexual tension, trauma, astarion's pov, miscommunications, selûne worshipper!tav, sensuality, confessions // mature for thematic elements

part three. / part five (coming soon). | masterlist.

welcome to the eighth day of the twelve days of amymas !!

PART FOUR: THE DANCE.

A winter ball — oh, he could climb into a coffin and never resurface.

They are a party of adventurers, not performers.

They ought to be compensated with gold and weaponry. Instead they're met with a celebration of food Astarion is sorely disinterested in and booze that will surely make for some less-than savory debauchery.

(And usually he’s such a fan of debauchery, but not when it involves other people and Tav.)

After all, without Tav’s quick thinking and assistance, Jahiera and all of her Harpers would have easily lost their half-elf cleric protecting their little Last Light Inn.

And, without Isobel, the idiots taking refuge here would all be doomed to wither away to the Shadow Curse like their precious lands.

The party, however, would be just fine.

Torches for days.

Rations overflowing at camp.

Not to mention that handy little moon lantern Astarion may or may not have swindled a confused drider out of giving up.

(Miserable bastard.)

So here the somewhat-heroic group stands:

Inn? Saved.

Isobel? In one piece.

Jaheira? Grateful, in her Jaheira way.

So grateful, in fact, she's proposed a one-night party in a similar vein of the grove celebration many moons ago.

A winter's ball, she calls it.

(Astarion is quite convinced the druid only calls it a ball because half of these blasted Harpers have never seen an elegant gathering to save any of their skins.)

Perhaps the most annoying part of this happening is the fact that Tav has looked happier than she’s appeared in weeks.

So many harrowing battles on the dilapidated roads before them forced them to veer a hard right, ruining their original mission trajectory.

Moonrise Towers, for now, could wait.

With dwindling supplies and Karlach running out of steam, Tav was certain this road was the best path to take.

Call it… well, a calling, he supposes.

Because a hop, skip, and a jump later, their party discovered some Harper-infested bubble called the Last Light Inn.

The Last Light is a warm place to sleep at night, and frankly? Astarion hadn’t laid down on a real mattress (not without a stranger in his orbit) in over two-hundred years.

Coincidentally, Tav loves the Last Light Inn, too.

It’s a prime opportunity to rest their feet, to catch up with the refuge tieflings that managed to escape their own ill fates, to speak with that indebted gnome from the windmill hilarity—

And, well, Isobel.

Isobel is the white-haired cleric that guards said bubble, keeping the curse from entering their oasis.

However, Isobel isn’t just a cleric — she also happens to be a fellow follower of Selûne.

(Oh, goody.)

The woman is convinced Selûne guided Tav to their hideaway.

She's convinced their detour was all in the plan.

(Selûne was never far from Tav's prayer, a notion that makes him both envious and glad.)

However, Isobel is a bit too giddy to steal the wood elf away from their party. They've spent the better half of a day gushing over one another's skill, gossiping over their goddess and what it took to simply get to this place.

In fact, Astarion hasn't seen her in hours.

(Even an hour is too long, he's decided.)

Yet that’s all the bloody Harpers have done in Tav’s orbit:

Chat. Compliment. Praise. Swoon.

(Yes, she’s impressive, but what about him? He needs dinner.)

And now it has all come to a head: a party to celebrate a victory when there are so few.

Wyll, of course, thrives at the idea of setting up a Winter’s Ball. It’s in his Ravengard wheelhouse.

Karlach — with a fixed engine and a glowing disposition now that she's reunited with Dammon — trails excitedly right behind.

The two of them, along with Isobel, take up most of Tav’s time.

Astarion is bumped back with the rest of the party, again.

The rest are neither here nor there about the plan. Shadowheart wants to keep moving. Lae’zel finds the concept childish. Gale swears he has two left feet.

Frustratingly enough, Tav is somewhere predictably in the middle.

She doesn’t wish to rock the boat or ruin anyone’s fun — she empathizes with those not as excited, but he can tell she’s closer towards wanting this to happen.

The way she beams when the Harpers ask her for preferences isn’t lost on him.

So Astarion has to do one of the hardest things he’s ever done in his life.

He goes from hell no, to hell yes — in a fortnight.

Especially after Tav that afternoon comes to him with an embarrassed look on her face.

That alone could get him to agree to anything.

"Astarion?"

Ah — think of an angel, and she shall rise.

His is an instant response, brought on from the sound of her voice alone.

“Yes, my sweet?”

(Only one other person commanded his attention as such, but that was out of fear. This is out of eagerness.)

Astarion has been minding his own, mentally preparing for a crowded, drunken celebration in his bedroom. People watching, really, as everyone sets up tables and chairs in the courtyard below.

He turns a chin towards the doorway where she stands, appearing smaller than usual.

Distraught.

He pushes off of the window frame with his shoulder.

"Is something troubling you, my dear?"

Tav makes a noise of discomfort, concerning him, before she holds up…

Fabric?

“She gave me a dress.”

The vampire blinks twice. “A what?”

“A dress,” she bemoans. “Alfira.”

The godsdamn tiefling bard that plays horrid music, of all people.

“She had extras in her pack, and…" Tav sighs in that people-pleasing way he's come to memorize, "...she’s hoping I wear it to the ball. As a gift for helping out the tieflings, but I don't feel I've earned it. And I don't really... well, the dress is...”

“It’s a party, dearest, not a ball. A ball needs less dust and cobwebs,” Astarion corrects, before crossing his arms over his chest. “You could have told her no.”

“She’s been through a lot.”

“So have you,” he challenges.

“And she looked quite excited—”

“Is it as ugly as her grove attire?” A tiny smirk crawls over his lips. “Because—”

“Astarion!”

Tav whispers desperately, moving across the room to him. She lifts her hand to hover over his mouth as if to quiet him without ever touching him.

She does that often — avoids touching him outright.

The wood elf always asks.

Apparently the surface-level stories of Cazador's abuse were enough to make her mindful of his aversion towards surprise touch.

(The thoughtfulness of him makes him want to scream.)

“It’s plain,” Tav quietly explains. “Green and, um, not quite my shade, but I just — can you please tell me what you think of it?”

“A half hour before our party’s a bit late to request opinions on outfit, is it not?” he quips, pretending like being Tav’s mirror is such a burden.

It’s really not.

It’s better than her going back to Wyll for opinions.

Or, Gods forbid, Gale.

“I knew you’d be honest,” she says like he’s ever been honest a day in his undead life.

So Tav believes he’d be brave enough to tell her… what?

That she’s ugly in something?

He’d be elated if he wasn’t so offended — Tav could wear a potato sack and still boggle the minds of every man, woman, and person at this inn.

Still, he has a reputation to uphold.

“Go ahead," he sniffs, then adds, “and I very much doubt green isn’t a wood elf’s color.”

Astarion waves her off with forced indifference as she glances around the room.

“Should I just do it here, or is that uncomf—”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

She wishes to undress here?

His brain feels a bit constricted, like he’s lost oxygen.

Then he remembers to perform.

“I’ll turn around. How’s that?” Astarion purrs, before pointing to a mirror. He flips it around and offers a grand gesture once his back is to her. “See? Fixed. I promise to not take a single peak at that tantalizing figure you so rarely accentuate.”

“Accentuating is impractical, and I’d hardly call myself tantalizing — but I appreciate the compliment, Astarion,” she returns with a relieved sigh, and Gods, he smiles.

She can’t see it, which is why it’s so easy to soundlessly laugh.

Fabrics ruffle behind him. Articles of clothing gently hit the ground.

The vampire could black out at the way the forefront of his imagination runs wild.

Tav is naked.

In some state of undress, right there, behind him.

It’s a strange feeling, to want to see someone naked — bodies are just bodies.

They’re skin and blood and, quite frankly, a bit disgusting.

So many fluids all the time.

But something warms him at the concept of Tav’s soft curves, the slopes of collarbones under tunics, what her legs may look like when they’re not covered by practical trousers. He pictures freckles on her skin. A scar or three. Planes of flesh clear of speckles of blood—

Shit, is he getting hard?

Just for thinking about fucking Tav?

Not fucking her, no, but the idea of simply looking at her, which is more embarrassing.

Astarion acts quick, thinking of something vile.

Purple robes.

Ah, yes, Gale’s robes.

Gale’s ridiculous, wrap-about robes mixed with his smarmy voice correcting the group about a spell he learned in Mystra’s teachings—

“Astarion?”

Her voice is so small that he barely recognizes it.

The vampire turns a chin, not willing to push a boundary until offered.

(Her thoughtfulness ought to go both ways.)

“I’m good," she adds. "I think I figured it out, but the clasp is…”

“Is what, dearest?” he coos back, finally turning on a heel to see what may become his undoing.

Tav stands timidly in the middle of the bedroom, shuffling her bare feet on the floor.

Alfira wouldn’t pull this off, no, but this darling wood elf glows in an olive-green ensemble. The embroidered fabric slopes deep past her collarbone, exposing her sternum, the curve of her breasts, straight down to her navel.

The sleeves are sheer, their pattern swirling like the very vines she derives from.

He’s gawking.

Astarion hasn’t said a word in over twenty seconds, and he’s painfully aware of it.

“Are you positive that isn't the back of the dress?” he asks, fluttering his fingers at the risqué front.

“I asked the same thing,” Tav sheepishly admits, stepping closer with her arm bunched behind her back. “The clasp is up the back, but it’s too high.”

She twirls to show him the predicament at her neck, and all Astarion can do is work his body on autopilot.

Not thinking will help him not make a fool of himself, so he shoos her hand away and clips the dress to completion.

He refuses to let himself touch the nape of her neck, her waist, her hips—

What in the hells did that little tiefling witch do to this dress?

“Am I alright to move?”

“Hmm?”

Tav’s voice. Tav asked a question. Tav asked a bloody question, you dolt, don’t lose your—

“Oh! Yes.”

Astarion clears his throat, flexing his fingers right over the clasp before stepping back.

“All settled.”

“Thank you,” she meekly replies, and he hates it.

She should be proud of the way she looks.

Why does she want to crawl into herself?

“Have you acquired a date to this humble happening?” Astarion decides to ask instead, balling his fists at his side.

“Do I truly look that horrid in this?” Tav asks, bypassing his question with her own.

Astarion opens his mouth to tease her some more, to press and prod and push until she glares his way, but nothing comes out.

Instead the pale elf softens at her stare, helpless and angry at his own insistence.

Why does he feel the need to be so cruel?

The world is cruel, but Tav is…

“Ah! There you are.”

The grating voice of Shadowheart pierces through their private moment, door swung wide as if privacy has no home here. The Shar cleric wears her usual traveling fashion, but her braid is unraveled, loosened. The tiny hair piece appears much more like a crown now with her free-swinging ponytail.

She smirks, brow quirked.

“...have I interrupted something?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Two voices ring out simultaneously.

Tav answers first.

Astarion’s ivory curls wave in the wind at how fast he whips his head to look at the half elf.

Shadowheart's eyes are already on his, even as she beckons Tav to join her with the crook of a finger.

No, he said. You’re interrupting nothing. We are nothing. This, whatever this is, is nothing.

“Jahiera won’t stop asking for you,” Shadowheart tells Tav. “Karlach and Dammon have already popped a few bottles to toast to her heated predicament, so you might want to find yourself a bottle before they’re all gone.”

“I’m—” Tav glances Astarion, and his undead heart squeezes. “Sure, I’ll join.”

She walks into the hallway with Shadowheart, leaving Astarion to stand alone.

“Where’d you get the dress, anyway?”

Now that the vampire's not within her eyesight, Shadowheart inquires with a softer tone.

Astarion finds himself becoming unnecessarily jealous.

Lighter.

Everyone is also so much lighter with the cleric of Selûne at their side; even a wayward prodigy of Shar.

He cannot squander her light.

She cannot be swallowed into his darkness.

Still, he feels just as drawn to Tav as the rest of them.

Like a damned fool who has yet to learn his lesson.

-.-

The party rages on well into the night.

The Harpers can drink.

In fact, they drink so heavily that half of them are already on the makeshift dance circle in the middle of the Inn’s courtyard.

People chant and cheer.

Couples find corners to hide in.

Astarion remains on the outskirts, all too easily reminded of the parties once organized in Lord Cazador's name — in his blood.

Just how many souls had he lured to those damned things?

How many bodies had he conjured with his oil-slicked words, his midnight charm?

Enough to know that the dragonborn trying to get Tav to dance doesn’t know a lick of proper waltz steps to save their own hide.

Yet Tav… does.

And that doesn’t go unnoticed, not by him.

She tries gently teaching the dragonborn so keen on speaking with her until the poor thing awkwardly gives up.

The red-scaled person shuffles off into the inn for more alcohol, leaving Tav alone on the dance floor.

No.

No, that won’t do at all.

His crimson eyes catch the laughter of Wyll to his right — the Blade of Frontiers is too busy talking to a disinterested Lae’zel to notice. Gale’s arms crossed and serious about discussing books with the elder Harper shopkeeper not far off. Shadowheart’s drunk a bit too much, so she's asleep with her head on a table. Karlach and Dammon — well, that’s something he shant ruin.

Which leaves… him.

Him and Tav.

Tav and Astarion.

He curses at himself before pushing off of a stone wall.

Like a creature of the night he stalks towards the diamond of the ball, forcing himself to do what no Harper, no dragonborn, and no bloody person in their camp can do for her.

“I suppose you can only teach an old dragon so many new tricks,” the vampire snarks with a feigned sigh as he steps up behind Tav, surprising her.

The wood elf spins on a heel, face flush with…

Oh, my.

She’s tipsy.

Possibly drunk.

(Although he'll go hungry this evening, he has no intentions of feeding from her when she isn't sober.)

“Astarion,” she greets breathlessly. He performatively bows. “What are you—”

“I was a magistrate, you know,” Astarion interrupts, a smirk growing on his lips as he glances up through pretty eyelashes to regard her. “In Baldur’s Gate, when I wasn’t so staunchly pale. If you wanted to dance with someone, my sweet, all you had to do was ask.”

Please ask me is what he’s trying to say, but he’s too much of a bloody coward.

Tav squares her shoulders as if to defy her own intoxication, yet her round eyes betray her wonder.

“You… wish to dance with me?”

“You lost your partner,” he coos. “What would I be if I left you stranded? And besides, I doubt anyone here knows how to waltz. Was that not what you two were... attempting?”

“You were watching me dance with Strohlan?”

She hiccups, and it’s adorable.

“If that’s what they wish to call dancing, sure," he snidely remarks.

“They did their best."

Yet she does not step into his orbit.

Instead she waits, as if anticipating for him to make the first move.

Tav stares at the vampire with cautious interest before becoming brave: “Ask, then.”

Astarion contemplates.

Coward, coward, coward.

Then he blurts before he can back out:

“Would you do me the honor of accompanying me in a dance?”

It sounds so juvenile on his tongue.

Like he isn’t over three-hundred years old.

Like he doesn’t have a single clue what he’s doing here.

(In truth, he doesn’t. He really fucking doesn’t.)

The cleric holds up her palm to the air, still not offering to touch him first. Her other arm curves at the elbow, as if Astarion can slot against her body perfectly.

He can. He has.

(With his fangs lodged into her neck, drinking her sweet life essence without a word of gratitude.)

Astarion realizes his stalling, so he takes a leap of faith — his hand reaches for her waist first, gliding around the silky smooth fabric of her olive dress.

The other hand curls around hers, seeking to lead.

He swallows when her warmth engulfs him.

No amount of mead can be this intoxicating.

Not like her.

When the makeshift band starts a new song, he pushes her back to start the dance.

Tav tenses but quickly relaxes as she allows Astarion to take the lead.

His brows furrow when he notes how her limbs seem eager to push back, as if—

“Are you trying to lead me?”

“Hmm? Oh shit, I’m—”

Did Tav just swear?

“Sorry, it’s a habit.”

“A habit, you say?" His voice is a melodic mockery. "Happen to find yourself leading the dance in your past entanglements?”

“Unfortunately,” she laments honestly. “Back where I’m from, they always tried teaching me the follower’s steps. I never quite liked it, so I learned the leader’s dance instead.”

“And where are you from?” he finds himself asking without meaning to, leaning into her ramble.

Tav sways to the music with him, a perfect mirror. “Southwood.”

Astarion’s brow quirks.

“As in the kingdom of Southwood?”

Southwood was a vast clan of wood elves on the southeastern side of the realm.

He’d never personally been there, but many wood elves in Baldur’s Gate spoke of their clan with such vitriol. According to them, Southwood wood elves rarely left their gates.

Why would they? Their lands were gorgeous. Ethereal.

Perfectly in sync with nature and all its glories.

Their government was not much of a democracy but a matriarchal monarchy.

Kings, Queens, all the stops.

They viewed themselves as pure royalty, rarely allowing outsiders to infiltrate. And because of that, most inhabitants of Southwood looked at the rest of the realm with their noses turned high.

So why in the nine Hells was Tav, their Tav, out here with the rest of them?

Tav, however, doesn’t seem very bothered.

The alcohol waves away his question and allows her to keep rambling during their dance.

“They love their lavish parties in Southwood. Nearly every week had some form of a dance, a celebration, an… exhausting seven-course dinner. Learning the ‘wrong’ steps kept people away.”

“Kept them away?”

“Yes,” she answers, matter of fact. “So no person could ask me to dance.”

He never expected — well, this.

Learning about not only Tav’s life before the mind flayers snatched them into their floating ship, but the fact that she’s… well, he worries there are many, many more layers to this young wood elf that no one else is aware of. Layers of secrets that make up who Tav is.

Layers that others could exploit.

(And they will never know. Tav's past is as precious to him as the finite dirt she'd once kicked away at camp, hiding his own demons.)

“So you hate dancing,” he decides to say instead, forgoing twenty questions about her lineage for now.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” she corrects. “I hate dancing with people I don’t like.”

Astarion grips her waist a little tighter.

He regrets it immediately when she presses closer, her fragrance overwhelming his every sense.

“And you like this… dragonborn? This Strohlan?”

Her head shakes. “I like the Harpers. They’re kind to us.”

“When we arrived at Last Light Inn, dear, Jahiera nearly sent you into a vine-ridden slumber.”

“I don’t blame her for taking precaution against people with wriggling tadpoles in their heads.”

He steps away, taking her off guard.

When his arm lifts, however, Tav is quick to obey the unspoken rule:

She twirls under it, skirt billowing with the movement.

Once she returns, her hand adjusts lower to his bicep — catching her step.

It feels more intimate, this way.

Real.

“And… you like our companions, then?” he leads.

Tav blinks. “Hmm?”

“Since you say you only dance with people you like,” Astarion repeats, hating that his ego needs to be stroked so thoroughly with thorns that he hopes to hear her sputter her way through—

“I like you.”

Astarion’s expression forcefully hardens to protect it from faltering.

“And I like our companions, of course," she explains, "but this… I would have asked you, if I’d known you would have actually said yes.”

I would have asked you.

So he wasted this entire ball doing… what, precisely?

Skulking in the corner, watching Tav get passed around like a commodity rather than a jewel?

Astarion holds her close, suddenly very aware of their every movement.

“Me?” he asks despite himself. She nods. “In what way, darling?”

Must he sound like such a school boy?

This is the perfect time—

To seduce.

To sink his proverbial teeth into her neck so that she may never shake him off.

But Astarion doesn’t want that.

He lost the script somewhere along the blackened roads of these cursed lands.

“How do you mean, in what way?” she counters, and he knows — knows he should seize the moment and purr in her ear and promise her one hell of a night.

But she’s drunk.

She’s drunk and she’s confiding in him, for Gods sake.

Like so many before her, she’s confessing to a slanted altar he cannot absolve.

(Do not like me, he wants to scream. You are light. I am shadow.)

“You’re formidable in battle.”

No.

“You stay with me in the night, in the dark, when my goddess is not near.”

Stop.

“You… guide me, ground me, entrust me with your life.”

Please, just stop.

“And I wouldn’t — well, I cannot imagine conquering what is before us without you by my side—”

“Tav."

Astarion stops moving.

His hand accidentally curls too harshly into her side.

Tav stops moving, too.

Her name spills like crushed smokepowder on his tongue.

Ashy, not the least bit polished; it’s nothing more than a croak, a plea, to stop while she is ahead.

Rounded eyes stare at him, waiting for his next words.

His thumb absently runs along the fabric of her soft dress, completely at a loss of what to do — what to say.

“I should have asked.”

Those rounded eyes widen impossibly further when Astarion murmurs the first thing that comes to mind — the first right thing, the first real thing, in centuries.

Not a mockery of himself, a soul he’d neglected for so long, but… this.

Whatever this is.

“You wanted to?” she quietly asks in return, and he nods silently. What else is he to do in her mercy? “Truthfully I wanted to ask if you were interested in a dance or two when we were upstairs, but then Shadowheart interrupted my bravery.”

“Lady Shar strikes again,” he jokes, but it’s strained.

He’s gifted with a laugh, soft and sweet, before it fades in the space between.

Tav drops her gaze to his lips, but he doesn’t notice.

He can’t — not when his own eyes have already traveled south.

Not to her chest.

Not to her neck.

To her very lips, rosy and alive.

Astarion had a plan.

A nice, simple plan.

Yet, with a heavy heart, he realizes much too late:

In his own free will, he wishes to kiss her.

He wishes to give a part of himself to her without expecting anything in return.

Not even a taste of her own damned blood.

Is this what it means, to give?

(Is this what it means, to trust?)

“Astarion…”

The young wood elf’s voice melts into his brain like a soothing balm.

Only then does he realize he’s a breath away from her face — ducked nose to nose, her light breath peppered with liquor tickling his chin.

Tav switches her attention between his eyes and lips, blinking up and down as if contemplating.

Her lips part, voiceless in her question, but the calling is clear:

Her chin nudges a fraction closer, and she’s thinking.

Do it.

Gods, he wants to scream it.

Fucking do it. Be selfish, for once in your damned life.

All he’s known is to be selfish.

To look out for one person and one person alone.

“I’m sorry.”

When Astarion leans in to finally bridge the gap, to finally break his own code and be damned with the plan, the vampire realizes the cleric is pulling away.

No—

Abruptly Tav steps back as though she’s scorned him with fire.

Her hands rip away from his shoulder and palm.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Darling—”

“Forgive me,” Tav blurts, as if she’s done something criminal to him.

Her once-bleary eyes sober in an instant, and she looks… ashamed?

Like she took advantage of a perfectly sober vampire, not the other way around.

You were supposed to fall for me.

That much is true.

That much is very clear to him.

Where, in some bizarre fashion, he’s managed what he once deemed impossible: Tav likes him. He's secured her affections without ever so much as being inside of her.

Yet it isn't enough. Tav lifts the skirt of her dress and beelines to the inn before he can reel her back.

She leaves him standing in the middle of the courtyard with a very real, very damning, reality:

Astarion’s nice, simple plan has fallen apart—

Because the pale elf has fallen first.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #twelve days of amymas #amywritesthings

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bg3-npc · 5 months

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Based off this vid from the latest patch:

Also love the dynamic of Karlach, who unfortunately cannot fuck, constantly hearing Wyll thirst over Astarion and Astarion swoon over Wyll but never in front of each other. Eventually she can't take the combination of both firsthand and secondhand sexual frustration and "accidentally" burns one their tents forcing them to share. It backfires because now they're daydreaming of domestic life together but have learned new material to insult each other with so they just sound divorced.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #Karlach #astarion #wyll ravengard #Wyllstarion #they're insufferable and they're not even together yet <3 #and poor Karlach standing there while Astarion lusts after The Blade #mine

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xthescarletbitch · 3 months

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can’t believe the bg3 interest started with mutuals posting karlach, evolved to me actually playing the game myself and instantly falling for lae’zel… and then developed further when i met minthara and fell for HER… HARD… and now i am swooning over shadowheart and karlach as we speak because they are also adorable and how could i not love them too????

and now i have no other choice but to make multiple saves so i can have them all <3

#lae’zel and minthara though… DAMN #karlach #lae'zel #minthara #shadowheart #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #txt

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slushrottweiler · 8 months

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I have a new problem....

I think I ship Wyll and Karlach!

Hear me out

Karlach is the sweetest bean ever and honestly deserves a dashing royal to sweep her off her feet. No one deserves a happy ending more!

And Wyll because a fiend to keep her alive, and is the quintessential romantic lead. Noble born, he'll bent on doing what's right and protecting those who cannot protect themselves.

They can go from enemies chasing each other through the hells, unlikely allies, then friends and finally they travel to the Hells together and fall in love.

Plus imagine how awkward Karlach would be trying to dance during Wyll's romance scene. Imagine Wyll swooning over one tiny, flaming kiss from this wonderful, adorable woman - scorch marks or no. Imagine them going full on battle couple in Avernus when they rip the devils apart.

Also they'd be so cute, lounging in the House of Hope during down-time. Just both besotted with the other.

#i may be the only person shipping this ship but im here for it hard #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 karlach #bg3 wyll #karlach x wyll #wyllach

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cy-cyborg · 3 months

Text

I am SO close to finishing Baldur's Gate 3... I think, I've been saying that for the past 20 hours lol, but I really want to gush about Karlach! Once I've actually finished the game I'll probably make a proper post talking about her in a more structured way from a disability standpoint but I just really want to talk about her now lol.

[ID: A gif of Karlach from Baldur's Gate 3, a tall woman with red skin, one black horn, black hair and glowing orange eyes. She is covered in scars and tattoos, her chest glows and she is dancing on the spot in front of a cluttered tent./end ID]

I did not know how much my inner child needed to see someone like her on screen. Strange thing to say about a character from a game that's intro features worms crawling into your eye in hell but its true.

I have massive burn-like scars all over my my lower body, especially my legs, and while I always (mostly) saw the amputations they came with as just a part of me, I had much more negative feelings about those scars, well into my young adulthood, but especially as a teenager. It wasn't helped by the fact that while most folks had the decency to keep their comments about my visible disability... neutral-ish, the comments about my scars ranged from "you should cover those up" to "that's discusting" and young children literally crying at the sight of them. On top of that, every time a character with scars like mine was in the media, they were either the villain, used to teach others a lesson about not being mean or to teach that chatacter a lesson about how beauty is on the inside or how to love their appearance despite thier scars (that they'll be sure to tell you they think are hideous).

But karlach isn't any of those things. She's confident and literally walks around armour that show her scars by default. No one calls her gross or tells her to cover them. Her scars are never brought up as a negative at all, at least that ive seen, they're never something that detracts from her appearance. She never tries to hide them or gets insecure about them. When you romance her, there's no comment about if you're sure you can find "someone with scars like hers" attractive. Characters in the game dont find her attractive in spite of them, they just find her attractive. Full stop. They're just, there. And what's more, the fandom, for the most part, seems to agree. I have seen so many people swooning over her, and they almost never bring the scars up. People don't care, they just think she's hot! (There will always be outliers of course but they seem few and far between in my circles at least lol).

And my God, it's SO refreshing! Don't get me wrong, it's not inherently bad to have chatacters be insecure about things like scars (Wyll has a few moments of insecurity around his, and I think it's done well) but it's so nice for it to not be the central focus for once, or even really a big at all. Especially for a woman character.

I was so convinced as a teenager that no one would find me attractive because of those scars. Scars like Karlach's. I'm older now, I have worked through it all, and any lingering insecurities I had on the subject were shut down when me and my partner got together. But 15/16 year old me desperately needed to see a chatacter like Karlach, and im so happy she exists now!

#disability #disabled #scars #visible disability #scarring #bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 companions #karlach #bg3 karlach #id in alt text #id included #gif

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alleiradayne · 6 months

Text

It was an accident.

That had been her mantra since the first night Astarion caught her staring. A mere three nights had passed since they'd begun traveling together, and despite their rough start, she had developed a growing fondness for him. So much so, her attention frequently wandered his way. And on that particular night, she channeled that attention into her art.

Maybe he had felt her eyes on him, some heightened vampiric sense. Whatever it was, he'd spotted her, and Amallia immediately buried her face in her leather-bound book. But she couldn't focus. She'd seen his confusion, his knotted brow and narrowed glare. As she closed her book to tuck away for the night, she thanked Oghma that Astarion had left her to her devices. That look of scrutiny was the fifth sketch in what would become a long series of the pale elf.

The second time he caught her, she had been studying him from her bedroll across camp. And though he never made eye contact, she saw the recognition, the keen understanding out of the corner of his eye. Maybe. It could also be his constant suspicion for all she could tell. But she refused to believe him so callous. Not after what she'd done for him.

The third time he caught her, about two nights later, Astarion had apparently had enough. Amallia did her best to appear nonchalant, but had clearly failed. Astarion slapped his own book shut, smacked it on the ground, and strode across the camp. She froze as he approached. There was no point in hiding it, so she sat there, still as stone to face his berating head on.

"Why in the Hells are you--"

His teeth clicked shut when he spotted the inner most pages of the book. The vast array of his expressions covered both pages. She watched as confusion widened his eyes and drew down that impressively stern brow again. His face, so angular with his pointed nose, high cheekbones, a long jaw, and curling hair, ranged myriad emotions. Those emotions contorted the otherwise pretty face, but before he could see much more, she snapped the book shut.

Her cheeks stung when he met her stare, and a sly grin spread across his lips. She braced herself for the worst of it.

"Oh, this is too good. Our fearless leader has a romantic interest."

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. Fucking shit. Astarion would taunt her for this. She should have known, shouldn't have let herself get so close.

"Does the lucky one have a name?"

Lucky one? What kind of joke was this?

Karlach's snorting laughter snatched their attention, but she stifled it when their glares turned on her. Amallia seized the distraction as an opportunity and stuffed her book in its hiding spot. Astarion turned back and, seeing the book gone, opened his mouth to speak, but Amallia cut him off.

"Better get some sleep. Long day ahead of us."

And with that, she curled into her bedroll, turning her back to him. She felt him linger there a moment longer, then his soft footfalls faded to nothing.

Two days later, Astarion brought it up again, unprompted and unprovoked. Which wasn't out of the ordinary for him, she'd learned. But that made it no less surprising when he did it.

"So, Mal, are you ever going to tell us who it is you're swooning over? I'm thirsty for some gossip, we've been walking for hours."

Gale groaned and Shadowheart hummed her amusement through her nose. Damn them. Damn them all. If she could just get a private moment with him, they could talk, and she'd tell Astarion how she actually felt. Up until now, she thought she hadn't needed to. And especially after last night, she definitely thought he understood. Hells, she'd even offered to help him figure out the damn scar on his back. How could he not know? What the fuck did he think they were doing?

"Mal?"

So lost in her own head, she had wandered on several steps after the group had stopped. Their concern, sickeningly genuine, twisted the knife deeper.

"What?"

Crestfallen, Astarion shook his head. "Never mind." He strode past her, not a single ounce of his usual swagger in his steps.

She thought he'd gone out to hunt. The entire camp had turned in early in anticipation of their journey into the Underdark. But Amallia was restless and needed to get a few ideas down before they escaped her. So she withdrew her book and charcoal only to come up blocked.

That wasn't true. She had plenty of inspiration. She could draw his face for days. It came as easy as breathing. That was his doing, and she knew why. She'd seen that distant, far off look he'd tried to hide the night they'd shared his bedroll. Everything about Astarion had begun to make sense then. Which made it all that much worse.

"Who is he?"

Amallia startled, barely stifling her shout. Nearby, Karlach stirred, but returned to her snoring a breath later. Amallia gripped her book tightly, clutching it to her chest. Something, she had to do something, and fast. His expectant stare demanded an answer, and her heart raced, cheeks stung, skin pebbled with gooseflesh...

Without a thought, she surrendered her concerns, gave herself over to those swirling emotions, and all the tension seeped from her shoulders. Her fingers loosened, letting go of her book, and it fell open into her lap.

Only his eyes moved, glaring at the book. That familiar scrutiny pinched his face, a catlike wrinkle at the bridge of his nose. With one more considering look for her, he sighed. Then Astarion knelt beside her, pouring over each sketch, each expression. Some he considered longer than others. He turned the pages back revealing more of the same face featuring so many emotions. More pages, more scrutiny. And then his eyes widened a fraction. Such a small shift, and yet on Astarion it was anything but. He looked to her then, asking the question without speaking.

"Yeah," Amallia said, abashed. "I couldn't stop if I wanted to. You're just... there. All the time. Like my hand's got a mind of its own. I don't even need to think about it. You're--"

She attempted a discreet glance at him, but it stopped her short. Astarion stared at her with wide, round eyes she'd never seen before, so soft, softer than she thought him capable of. Gone was the stern brow, instead raised high in surprise. The sly grin or measuring scowl that thinned his lips had long since vanished, replaced with a subtle, silent oh.

She would have to draw that one. Tonight. If she would let him.

"Astarion?" She reached for his hand. "Are you..."

A shiver shook him from his thoughts. "My apologies... but is that... that's what I look like."

It wasn't a question. Fucking hells, it wasn't a fucking question. Gods, but she had been so stupid, so completely caught up in her own bullshit that she hadn't stopped to think for two seconds. The ache in her chest shot straight through her, an arrow loosed from a bow, and she could have wept for him.

Could have. If it weren't for that ridiculous, shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

"Of course you adore me," he crooned, leaning closer. "And I you." He placed a quick kiss on her lips, then stood and headed back to his tent. "Sweet dreams, darling."

A part of her wanted to scream. The armor had come off for a moment, however brief it was. Had she not been so insufferably self-centered, she might have been better prepared to respond to him in such a vulnerable state.

No. He wasn't ready. Not yet.

He might not ever be ready. Could you be with him like that?

Astarion's hauntingly tender visage in his rare moment of wanting crowded out the unpleasant questions, and Amallia honed in on it like a hawk.

An hour later, she had finished her final sketch of Astarion. And when she saw the lamp still glowing in his tent, she got up and strode right over to it. He deserved to see it. Or maybe she needed him to see it for her own sake. See what she saw in him.

"Astarion?"

Nothing. She pulled the flap aside and found him flat on his back, fast asleep. Instead of waking him, she set the book on the ground beside him, open to the final pages, that moment of his softest surprise taking up the entire left side. Then she returned to her bedroll, crawled in, and promptly passed out.

"Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."

There it was. The other shoe. After stumbling through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, the attack at Last Light Inn, and their initial meeting with Ketheric Thorm, Amallia had waited on pins and needles for the next disaster to hit.

At first, she thought it was when Raphael reared his too pretty head again. But he had asked for their help, so that couldn't possibly be it. And Astarion, cunning as ever, had sniffed out a vulnerability without even trying. Deal struck, Amallia promised to take out Raphael's rogue orthon, but only because Astarion was perfectly positioned to gain so much.

Indeed, they had gained, and not just the Nightsong. With the knowledge of the Rite of Ascension, they had gained the advantage on Cazador they had so desperately needed. But they had also lost, in a way. Astarion had arrived a crossroads, one she did not envy. Much the opposite, her heart ached for him. And herself. She could lose him. But he stood to lose everything.

And now, mere hours later, he wanted to talk.

The other shoe.

There was no point in wasting time. Amallia breathed in deep, steeling her nerves. When she turned to face Astarion, she froze. That rare softness had returned after so many days away and he held her art book in both hands, clutched to his middle.

"Are you alright?"

A flicker of his sly smile sharpened his features, but only just. "Oh, yes, I'm fine... I just feel awful."

"Understandable, considering the decision you're facing."

Astarion shook his head. "No, that's... fuck Cazador, I'm not talking about that rat bastard for once." He inhaled sharply as though to keep rambling, but he held that breath, then slowly, intentionally, exhaled. "Look," he began anew, "I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn one me."

Okay, maybe this was the other shoe.

"It was easy. Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it."

When he paused there, Amallia remained silent. She had known this was a possibility all along, but to hear him say it...

"And all I had to do was not fall for you... which is where my nice, simple plan... fell apart."

Amallia studied his face, every angle, every muscle, every twitch. But she found nothing. The armor was off and she was unprepared. Again.

"You... you're incredible. You deserve something real..." He held out her art book, handing it back to her. "I want us to be something real."

She took the book from him and, seeing the ribbon mark moved, opened it to that very last page. Her heart hammered in her chest, beating against her ribs as if to escape. To the right of her last sketch of him sat a sketch of her in full color pastel, an easy smile on her lips, a crinkle at the corner of her eyes, and the slightest scrunch to her nose.

"Please say something."

"I do," she started. "I do, too. Want us to be real. More than anything."

"Good," he breathed. "Oh, that's... that's good. And terrifying. I... don't know what real looks like. Not after two hundred years of playing the rake."

Oh. "Astarion, you don't have to explain. If it--"

"No, I owe you this," he stated. "Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy really, was something I performed to lure people back... for him."

Disdain dripped from his last words as Astarion's typical scowl returned. She resisted the urge to step closer, to be closer to him, and instead settled for a useless apology. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he hissed, but his anger faded as quick as it had come, all soft and smooth once more. "Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels... tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don't know how else to be with someone... No matter how much I'd like to."

Fuck. She'd been right about him. But for all the wrong reasons. "That's... okay, Astarion. Well, no, it's not okay, but you know what I mean. I care for you. Deeply."

The scrutiny with which he often regarded everyone returned, and for whatever reason, Amallia found a comfort in it.

"Really?" he asked.

He could say no. If he didn't want her physically near him, he could say no, or push her away. But if he did want her closer, close enough to feel, and she hadn't taken the chance...

Each hesitant step dragged, time stretching, slowing, until at last Amallia wrapped her arms around his shoulders. For a single, terrifying second, nothing happened. Then Astarion all but melted into her, arms threading around her waist and pulling her in tight.

She lingered there, not wanting it to end so soon. But when she attempted to parted from him, he briefly clung to her a moment longer, then let her go.

There it was again. That same shocked realization, with his round eyes, raised brow, and slack-jaw, had taken over his face. And then it was gone, replaced again by his classic charm.

"You're full of surprises... aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged."

He laughed as he said, "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next."

His confident smile set her heart racing anew. Then Astarion held out his hand. Without a single consideration for caution, Amallia placed hers in his. Such a tender touch, enveloped by his hands, sent a shiver down her spine.

"But I know that this? This is nice."

#astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x amallia #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #mentions of abuse

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ariannadi · 4 months

Text

Assume and Assure

Can also be read on Ao3

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

“So I suppose that’s that, then.”

Sitri looked up at Astarion from where she was lounging in front of the Elfsong suite's fireplace, and rested her book open-faced on her thigh. “What’s what?” she asked.

“I noticed Halsin speaking with you earlier—well, heard more like. The man isn’t very subtle about what he desires,” Astarion explained as he shuffled back and forth on his feet, looking more and more sour with each word.

For a moment Sitri was still confused as to what her lover was going on about, until it all at once clicked. “Oh. You mean his proposition, don’t you?”

The bitter scoff Astarion let out told her she was right on the money. “I won’t get in the way of whatever… activities you desire to partake in with him. I suppose this little charade of ours was fun while it lasted, hm?”

“Astarion, what… what are you going on about?” Sitri reeled, feeling like she had been slapped in the face. Astarion was faring no better—his eyes going wide in that kicked puppy look of his.

“You… you are calling things off with me, aren’t you? So you can be with Halsin?” he stressed, and Sitri practically glared at him.

“What makes you think I decided to reciprocate his advances? I turned him down, Astarion. I don’t have feelings of that sort for anyone except you. I’m honestly a little offended you would think me so shallow,” the half-elf huffed, snapping her book shut and rising to her feet.

“Sitri, I didn’t—I’m sorry,” the vampire was quick to intercept, sashaying in front of her and preventing her from stomping off. “I’ve just—you’ve seen Halsin, yes? Large, rustic charm, etcetera. The entire camp swoons over him whenever he merely glances their way. I suppose I just… assumed you were in the same boat. And you’re the only one he’s shown genuine interest in, so… there.”

“Astarion.” Sitri uttered, her traitorous heart clenching at his crestfallen expression. With a sigh she set her book on the ground, and lifted a comforting hand to his cheek. “I don’t have feelings for Halsin in any way, shape, or form. He’s just a friend, and that’s all he ever will be. I told you once before that sex doesn’t matter all that much to me. If I were someone hot-blooded like Lae’zel or perhaps even Karlach, then sure; I’d probably jump at the opportunity at the snap of a finger. But that simply isn’t the case. You are the only one my heart desires, Astarion. You.”

“Sitri…” Astarion's response was quiet, almost inaudible, and he closed his eyes as he leaned into her touch. “I… I-I suppose I just…” a frustrated sigh, “This is all still so new to me. All I’ve ever known about relationships of any kind is that they inevitably end in sex and that a majority of people only really seem to desire that. I just…”

“Oh, love,” Sitri tutted, and drew him into a hug, which he greedily sank into. “Halsin doesn’t make me laugh with his ridiculous antics until my lungs are screaming for air. Halsin doesn’t indulge in my ramblings about the Weave for hours despite being visibly disinterested simply because he wishes for my company. Halsin doesn’t go on murderous rampages when some unlucky bastard nicks me with their weapon. There are so many reasons I adore you so, and only the tip of that relates to intimacy. And even then,” she said coyly, pulling away to look him in the eyes, “I think it’s safe to say that you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Astarion asked with the tiniest quirk of his lips, perking a rather intrigued brow. Sitri snickered, leaning up on her toes to peck at his nose.

“Yes, you’ve completely debauched me, you wicked, wicked man. Now, would you care to join me by the fire? I can read to you if you’d like—this book is one you’d enjoy, I think - swashbuckling and all that,” the woman offered, taking a step back towards the mantle and gently tugging him along.

“I would like that,” Astarion answered with a fond smile. Once they had gathered an array of pillows and were properly situated on the carpet, Sitri sitting upright with Astarion’s head in her lap, he prodded with a shit-eating grin, “So, you like it when I get all overprotective, do you?”

“Oh, do shut up.”

#Astarion x Tav #Astarion #Baldur’s Gate 3 #BG3 #romance #Sitri #original character #dnd character #fics #wash my pain away

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 5 months

Note

Any thoughts you’d like to share on the other origins characters? Anything you like about them :)

Again, haven't played the game so these are my general thoughts based on a few romance compilations, YouTube Shorts, and memes. If anybody would like to rectify this, please Venmo me $500 so I can buy a PS5.

Shadowheart

Admittedly don't know that much about her other than the emos love her and she follows a goddess of loss. Looks like her arc is all about questioning institutions and her god, which I think is very sexy of her. If anybody has a quest line compilation video to recommend so I can see her whole story, please send it my way.

Lae'zel

The other origin character I admittedly don't know that much about. Still love an arc about questioning the system she was raised in and her god. Again, very sexy of her. Fish out of water stories are some of my favorites. Pair that with a hardened character learning to enjoy the gentler things in the world, and you've got yourself a banger. I should really look up her quest line at some point to get a full view of it.

Karlach

Best girl. Strong muscles, soft heart. I want her to be my best friend IRL. She deserves better and if there is any way to get a better ending that allows her to stay in Faerun, the studio needs to get on that ASAP. In the meantime, I'm going to stay in the part of the internet that says she's fine don't worry about it. I'm hugging her and there is nothing you can do about it.

Wyll

Sweet boy. A perfect boy who did nothing wrong ever. Yeah, yeah, sold his soul to a devil, but he had a good reason. Plus, he was seventeen. Nobody should let a seventeen year old make any decisions ever. I do need to find a good romance compilation. He needs more love. His friendship with Karlach is everything to me.

Gale

People really need to stop complaining about this man. I see too many being ragging on about how he's not over his ex and keeps bringing her up. "With you I forget my goddess?" That isn't him saying with you he forgets his ex, he's saying with you he forgets his god. How are we all not collectively swooning? And he's a nerd who will info dump about his passions? Sign me the fuck up. His comfy pjs and burnt out gifted kid swagger has bewitched me body and soul.

Astarion

Guys, you've seen my blog. I'm obsessed with him.

The moment I saw this asshole pop up on my dash, I knew I was going to love him. He was the reason I decided to finally look up a romance compilation once I realized my computer was too old to let me run the game. He's my type to the point of parody. Literally anybody who knows me, knows this guy would end up being my favorite.

His arc is about bodily autonomy and trauma. He's allowed to not be the perfect victim. He's angry and violent. He's selfish and terrified. And he is, sadly, one of the few characters who, as part of his arc, realizes he can say no to sex and he can be loved without it.

My point is, it should be no surprise to anybody that the ace community loves this man, and anybody complaining about it should shut up.

If you want to write your sexy Astarion fanfic, there is nothing stopping you. More power to you. I've seen the graveyard scene too. I recognize that regaining his autonomy and being able to have sex with somebody he cares about is part of the healing process.

At the same time, if writers want to interpret his arc is him realizing he never wants to have sex again, and that being okay; let them. We need this. There are so few characters like him out there.

At some point I do want to write an hour long video essay about his arc and how it's resonated with the ace community specifically.

Anyway, those are my general thoughts. I feel like I just swung a bat at a hornet's nest with that last bit, but what's life without a little danger?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #shadowheart #lae'zel #karlach #wyll #gale #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #wyll ravengard #karlach cliffgate

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atsadi-shenanigans · 1 month

Text

Feeding Alligators 41 - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

Rated M for violence, swearing, and innuendo.

You and Astarion do a bit of reconnaissance.

On AO3.

Wyll is now a devil. That is a thing that can, apparently, fucking happen in Faerun. You quietly add “Mizora” to your “fuckheads to kill??” mental list. You ain’t sure if Wyll’s new look is permanent, or if it even goes more than skin deep. He, understandably, wants some time to process the whole thing—away from y’all—so you don’t ask.

“Mmm,” Astarion tuts. “That’s a warlock bargain for you.”

Catches your blank stare, scoffs, and has to explain (“Not even devils? What do you mean Ay-yarth only has humans?”)

Karlach goes real quiet. You think she might be tearing up, but she runs so hot, any tears evaporate before they can pool.

You sit with her a bit. Let her talk at you. You don’t got much to say—isolated as Earth is from all this shit (is it, though? Seems to be an awful lot of cultural and culinary crossover to be coincidence). You ain’t sure why somebody like Wyll ever felt so desperate he had to make a deal with a devil for power.

“I think he’ll be okay,” you say.

“Really?” Karlach says. She’s big and intimidating, but she’s still got that golden retriever softness to her. When she’s not swinging that ax around. Or ripping saplings out of the ground and replanting them with her bare fucking hands.

“He don’t seem the type to give up,” you say.

And this gets a snort out of her. “He chased my big, red ass halfway through the hells, alright. Yeah. Yeah. Good old Blade of the Frontiers wouldn’t let that sack of shit win, will he? And between you and me, I’m gonna find a way to get that bitch’s claws out of him, if I have to smash her face in to do it.”

She’s like a black hole, only bright and shining, pulling you into her gravity well. “I’d pay money to watch that. Shit, I’ll help you do it.”

“You will?” And sweet god, all that violence-tinged enthusiasm focuses on you and your spine melts all warm and gooey like taffy in the sun. You want to swoon into her giant arms.

But can’t. Because she’s on fire.

Instead, you nod. “If we get a chance to get him out of this bullshit contract, we do it.”

“Fuck yeah. I knew you’d be alright!”

You would do almost anything to make this giant, flaming woman smile.

***

Naturally, that means killing the fuck out of some fake paladins. You should probably be more squeamish about that. None of the others are. Karlach is downright chipper and Lae’zel smiled for less than half a second when y’all set out.

“How many did you say were there?” Gale says.

Karlach answers, but your gaze slides to Wyll, sticking to the middle of the group. His cheeks have ridges, now. His eye turned black and red. And he’s got an impressive set of oil-black horns curving up from his forehead.

He was so eager, yesterday. So in his element, confidant he could remove a piece of evil from the world. And it was a lie. The whole thing might be a lie.

You know what that feels like.

“You okay?” you say, dropping back to his side.

He tries to smile, but it’s like a gray cloud blocking the sun. “I’ll be alright. Best focus on the mission at hand. It won’t be easy fighting agents of Zariel. Even if we outnumber them.”

This close, and you can trace the ridges disappearing down the neckline of his shirt. His cheekbones jut out, now. The whole look is sharper than before. But his eyes are still soft and kind.

“You’ll be okay, Wyll,” you say. “If you need anything, ask, yeah? I mean it.”

He kinda blinks at you. Attempts a smile and almost sticks the landing this time.

Then the wind shifts and the reek of carrion left out to rot washes over you. The road is up ahead. And beyond that, the tollhouse.

“Keep yourself safe,” Wyll says.

“You, too.”

***

Karlach wants to kick down the front door and start smashing heads together. You talk her down. Barely. She’s literally blazing by the time she steps back, sulking. She says there were five. Astarion noticed four, and they’d said they were “gravely wounded.” They mighta lost somebody.

Y’all need to scout the area.

Your gaze lands on Astarion. His eyes narrow.

“You and me take a peek?” you say.

And half the group objects. Not over Astarion—which he goes full offended cat about. Rather, it’s you. Until you remind them that 1. you got Lae’zel outta that trap by yourself 2. nobody's stabbed you yet, and 3. you are the most unassuming out of y’all’s entire group.

Lae’zel with her fuck off sword and her silver armor. Shadowheart with her cool, skin peeling glare (and also her armor and that mace). Gale is a fucking wizard and anybody at fifty paces can clock that. Wyll and Karlach both have horns, and Karlach is on fire.

“Sides, I ain’t going through the front door,” you say. “Hopefully they don’t see us at all.”

So with a reluctant “be careful” and “I can’t heal a severed limb, you know” and a “fuck yeah, bust some heads!” you both go scuttling towards the nearest overturned wagon to the tollhouse, the one that’s part of the makeshift barricade.

“Hmph,” Astarion sniffs. “No sending off for me, then.”

You kick her body like the football, your brain chimes in helpfully.

“Poor Miette,” you say. Flap your hand when he frowns. “It’s a saying. I would very much like it if you don’t get hurt.”

He settles. A bit.

Them bodies are still sprawled everywhere like lawn clippings. That alone makes you side with Karlach.

“Who leaves bodies just lying around where they sleep?” you say, as the two of you crouch down (your knee crack is barely audible) to watch.

“Oh, most monsters,” Astarion says.

You remember how he just left that pig in the road. “Huh.”

There. Backroom Lurker woman emerges from a side door on the second story. Stares out over the woods a bit. Stares out so long your left calf goes from burn to cramp. Astarion is absolutely fixated on her. Eyes not moving, not even twitching. His nostrils flare and he goes so utterly still, you know he’s not breathing. He’s every inch a big cat on the stalk. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Eventually, Backroom Lurker starts towards the stairs leading down to the porch. Stands there as you start sweating, swearing without using your vocal cords, before she finally opens a door at ground level and slips inside.

You fall on your ass and hiss as you stretch your legs. Astarion gives you an eyebrow arch and you know the bastard is laughing in his head. At least it broke up his eerie staring.

“What now?” you say.

He hesitates a second. Something flashes across his face, but then he looks back to the tollhouse and shifts his crouch.

“We wait.” His voice is so soft it gives you an ASMR shiver. Which he notices, and because he’s an asshole, it makes him smirk. “We need to establish her pattern before we try to slip between her little outings. At least one more go should give us a rough estimation.”

You nod. Stretch your legs a bit more before folding them in criss-cross applesauce (Sasha taught you that phrasing; you refuse to abandon it). And wait. And wait. The sun beats down and you ain’t even in armor and you’re starting to overheat. Astarion isn’t sweating, though. Nor does he seem bothered. He watches the tollhouse—gaze still creepily fixed, but has tilted his head so he catches as much of the light on his face that he can. He’s a cat sprawled on a windowsill. One watching for a pretty bird.

And there she finally is. Backroom Lurker reappears upstairs again some fifteen minutes later. Does her whole “standing around and looking at the trees” schtick before making her round and going back inside.

Astarion lifts his crouch. You scramble back to your feet just in time for him to take off. God, he’s fast and he is fucking silent. More like a ghost streaking towards that porch while you lumber and pant behind him. He barely slows as he sort of flows up onto the porch, still without a sound. There, he turns back. Frowns to find you about half the distance behind and already panting. You redouble your effort (maybe Lae’zel had the right idea; you would not have been able to do this a week ago).

You stop before the porch. Turn and reverse hop your ass onto it and roll as quietly as you can to your own feet. He keeps glancing behind you (the door where Lurker disappeared into) and up the stairs.

“Keep quiet,” he says as if you aren’t already smothering your own urge to fucking pant under trembling slow breaths. Then he starts up the stairs.

You tread carefully, much more slowly, up after him. Until you’re both at the upper deck. He starts to move and then stops so fast and completely, you think something shot him. But then his face twists—oh fuck, that man is a fucking vampire—and his lips peel back in the most fucked up grin you’ve ever seen. He silent-sprints over to the other side of the door, crouches down.

Leaves you standing there all dumb and awkward. Just in time for the door to swing open. For Backroom Lurker to step out, muttering, and take two steps and notice your own frozen ass.

“What—” she says.

And Astarion is on her. He rises up, something terrible, something that locks your bones and trips your heart. A hand comes around her front, glittering silver. The knife flashes. Opens her neck in a spray of blood. And before the first drop can even hit the deck, he tears into the wound with his fucking mouth. His other hand comes up, clamps her own lips shut—pretty sure he severed the vocal cords, oh god, is that just instinct? And he clutches her to him.

It’s part cat, part python. Her legs kick and she reaches up to try to tear at him, wrench him off her. But her neck is open and his teeth savage the wound and she makes these horrifying gurgling, gasping sounds. She looks at you. All fear and desperation—

You look away. You don’t need to see this. Don’t need this burned into your memory. You track the both of them out of the corner of your eye as she slumps. As he follows her down, until she’s sprawled out and he’s hunched over her, making those slurping, half-moaning noises of his own.

Until he finally wrenches himself off, panting, looking high as fuck. His grin is a wet, red smear across his face.

That…

Holy shit.

“That’s, uh…” you say. You ain’t even sure what you meant to finish.

He sighs happily. Stands. Pulls a rag from his pocket to clean off the knife.

Backroom Lurker lies deader than the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Just like Olodan, her head is damn near sliced off, only the spine and a flap of skin holding it to the rest of her. Astarion’s lower face is absolutely soaked in blood, a sheen of it running down the front of his armor.

He notices you staring. “Is there something in my teeth, darling?”

You ogle a second. And then you can’t help yourself. There’s so much death and maiming, and your brain always did short circuit to humor.

You laugh. It’s a quiet thing, high-pitched, more of a wheeze. You motion to his mouth. “Yeah. You got a spot right…right there.”

His eyebrows lift, eyes glittering. The game between you is shifting and you’re kind of stuck in this raft as the current veers off course. This seems to tickle him right back. He wipes the corner of his mouth with a gloved hand. Pops it back in to suck it clean, glove and all.

“Better?” he says.

He’s smeared it, is what he’s done.

And the only thing you can come up with it, “Eh, I don’t think anyone’ll notice.”

A drop pools on his chin and falls to the deck between his feet.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, and he damn well knows. Has to feel all that wet on his face, but he makes no move to clean it (aside from occasional finger swipes, like stealing icing from a mixing bowl).

He examines the dead woman a second. But doesn't crouch to go through her things. Instead, he looks at you.

“She’s all yours,” he says. When you only stand there and stare, he motions to her. “You claimed first shot at jewelry, didn’t you? Her pockets are right there, my dear. I’ll let you have your turn.”

You…what. What the fuck? Why does that sound…what?

But he just stands there, smiling at you. Like he’s not covered in blood. Like he didn’t quite literally tear her throat open with his own teeth and now you’re both standing here, in the sunlight, over her cooling corpse and talking about dibs rights.

“We are running out of time, darling,” he says. “If you want to continue this scouting venture, that is.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fake paladins y’all gotta kill. Right. And he’s going to stand there until you do this, isn’t he? Fucking asshole. Fucking goblin ass psycho man.

You look down at Lurker. This was your idea. You know he had to kill her—it ain’t actually that easy to knock people out and it causes literal brain damage; she might’ve died anyway. And y’all are here to kill all of them. And, well…you do need money. She won’t.

Fuck.

You reach down, careful not to look past the arm flung over her torso, careful not to touch her anymore than you have to. A quick rummage through her pockets and you draw out five gold pieces.

“Hmm, no jewelry,” Astarion says. “How unfortunate.”

No jewelry. Just your first corpse robbing. Dead-thieving? What the fuck does one even call this, and why does it feel like some kinda test? One Astarion seems to approve of, judging from the glint in his eyes.

Though that might be the blood lust.

“We may only have a few moments before the others notice her deviation,” he says and pads over to the ladder next to the door. He gestures for you to go first and gives a bow at the waist, like some fancy pants doorman.

You got a dead woman’s coins in your pocket and he’s covered in blood, so you do the normal person thing and give him a silly bow back. What the fuck even is your life.

Your knees bitch about the climb, but you make it anyway. Settle into a crouch on the open patio to let Astarion take the lead. He palms the door handle, cracks it and pauses, listening. He ain’t breathing again, so you hold your own lungs as still as you can until he gives what you assume is an “all clear” gesture. Then he eases through.

You glance back, catch a flash of red at the barricade—the crew ducking down. Close enough that if you two get caught, one of them might get to you both before y’all get your asses skewered.

You breathe deep, flick your shaking hands a couple of times, and follow Astarion.

***

Notes:

Astarion is a cryptid murder hobo and I will shout this from the rooftops. Regular updates will continue for the next three chapters, but I'm gonna take a Wednesday off after chapter 44 because she got LONG. Next chapter: Slaughterhouse Four

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #tavstarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #astarion fic #slow burn #plus size tav #demisexual tav #modern girl in faerun #astarion is a cryptid murder hobo

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