#them being Gale not the tattoos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abigailmoment · 5 months

Text

It wasn't just bad luck that Staeve was targeted. It was a calculated attack. Halsin knew well enough how a caster could examine their enemies for tells. Halsin did it himself. Considered an opponent's tactics, and guessed at the places their mind would be most vulnerable.

You didn't have to be a gifted empath to watch how Staeve hurled himself into the thick of combat, right at the biggest bandit wielding the two-handed great sword, and think that the man might be vulnerable to a spell that exploited wisdom.

The fact that it took down Astarion too, well, perhaps that one was just bad luck.

It happened like this:

This is written about @velnna's Tav, Staeve. I was delighted to discover that they don't mind fan fiction being written about him.

I'm always cautious about writing for other people's OCs--getting voices right is so important to me. I have elegantly avoided that issue here.

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

The fight was an incidental bit of banditry. Dangerous banditry, certainly. Bandits with great swords, supported by wizards. Halsin hung back with Gale while the two rogues dashed forward to give truth to the old adage that the best defense was killing the other fellow extremely quickly.

They cut down the man with the great sword and the woman with the mace and shield. Reinforcements were coming from around a rocky overhang. Halsin coaxed the earth to throw up entangling vines to slow them down. Gale drenched them with glimmering light that illuminated all their vulnerable points for Astarion and Staeve to shoot at.

Only the half-orc made it through the vines and the light. He was bloodied and wrathful. He was huge, but it was two against one, and the two were flanking with each other. It would have been an easy end to the combat, except that apparently there was a bandit wizard hidden somewhere in the trees who chose this moment to cast a spell.

One second Staeve was a blood spattered half-drow sprinting full-tilt, sword out, towards a fighter twice his size. And then he was gone.

Some sort of teleportation? Banishment? Gale was saying something about trajectory and scanning the treeline. Halsin was yelling, he wasn't sure what, the concern was more important than the words. He started running forward. Because two rogues against a barbarian was fine, but one rogue against a barbarian was an extremely fast way for that rogue to die.

And Astarion knew that so he should be running away. But he wasn't running away. He was darting forward and ducking low and almost getting hit by a greataxe as he snatched something off of the ground.

Then he was running, thank the Gods. There was something cradled in his arms, which meant he didn't have his rapier out as he scrambled back.

It was a cat. Halsin saw. They were ten feet away from each other when Halsin realized that Astarion was carrying a large, extremely upset tabby cat with grey-green fur.

That was when Astarion vanished. No. Not vanished. As the tabby tumbled to the ground, something small and white was already there, darting for cover.

Then the half-orc arrived. Bellowing and huge, at least when compared to cats. Not quite as huge when compared to Halsin.

Halsin decided to turn into a bear. It was amazing how many problems you could solve by turning into a bear.

"I am feeling my oversight in not preparing dispel magic today," said Gale. "Or counterspell."

"This is not a situation we could have anticipated," Halsin said.

Staeve contributed to the conversation, but because of present circumstances, it came out as a meow.

He was large for a cat. His fur was pale brown, tabby-striped with green. His stripes crisscrossed in a way that reminded Halsin of his tattoos. His scar was a fur-less groove in his face. He had the same pale green eyes as always. That color was quite appropriate in a cat.

He meowed again, more insistently this time.

"We will," Halsin assured him.

"You're speaking with him?" Gale asked.

"Not magically," Halsin said. It had been a long day and he had barely anything left to cast with. "But I think I understand him."

"Do you?"

"Think a moment and I am confident that you too will guess what he wants from us."

It did only take a moment. Gale was an intelligent man, when prompted. And they'd all seen the small white cat vanish into the woods during the bear-orc fight.

"Ah. Of course." Gale addressed the cat, voice reassuring. "Astarion should be relatively safe though. Polymorph is temporary and even if something did happen to him in the interim, he would just revert to his natural form."

Staeve's whiskers went back and his ears went flat in a thoroughly unimpressed way.

"I think it would be best to find him and make sure nothing happens," Halsin said with mellow diplomacy.

"Of course." Gale paused, then said delicately: "Given my skill in woodland matters, or lack thereof, I may best serve this cause by getting out of the way."

Halsin smiled. "It is a wise man who knows his limitations."

"I'll meet you all back at camp then?" said Gale.

"Take a potion of invisibility for the trip," Halsin suggested. "There might still be bandits about."

Staeve had gotten impatient with them, and was padding off into the forest. Halsin handed Gale the potion and hastened to follow.

Staeve scampered about the forest like he was looting the place. No hole, hollow log, wasp nest, or brown recluse spider-web was left uninvestigated. The loss of seventy five percent of his gray matter had done the man's already flagging survival instincts no favors. Halsin spent half of his attention looking for signs of a small white cat, and half of his time making sure Staeve's efforts at tracking didn't get him killed.

After being only a hairsbreadth quick enough to pull Staeve away from the entrance to a dire-badger-burrow Halsin decided that his partner was now going to be carried. Staeve made a meowling, writhing objection. He was terribly invested in the search. A compromise was reached when he was offered a perch high on Halsin's broad shoulders. Staeve proceeded to clamber from shoulder to shoulder as Halsin walked, ears always forward and alert, eyes bright, head turning this way and that as he scanned the woods.

Small cats with stealth training were not easy things to track through dense forest. Halsin did end up using his last spell slot to cast speak with animals. The local mice and voles always noticed when predators passed, even small ones. Halsin spoke to them while keeping one hand on Staeve, who watched the tiny creatures with bright, newly interested eyes.

Halsin of course spoke with Staeve as well, but it wasn't quite the same. Talking to a person who had been transformed into an animal was not the same as talking to that person. Shape changed you. How you saw things. How you thought. The mind of a cat was a fraction of the size of that of an elf or half-elf. Thinking with it was different. The change was easiest for druids. It was hardest for the cursed, who did not choose the new shape. Who were surprised by it.

He spoke to Staeve and learned things he had already known from observation. He reassured Staeve that the mice had given useful guidance.

That guidance led them north, then west, and then to a long hollow log, moss covered and broken in two places. A good hiding spot, and the sort of shelter that had a lot of escape routes. Staeve jumped off of Halsin's shoulder as the druid knelt down and they both peered inside.

In the darkness, Halsin could just make out a pair of ruby-bright eyes staring warily back at him.

Beside him, Halsin watched Staeve relax for the first time since becoming a cat. He wasn't actually as large as Halsin had first thought--it was just that his hackles had been up and his tail puffed out for the duration of the transformation.

It could be a painful thing indeed, to have one's heart so completely entwined with another's safety. A deeply worthwhile thing, but a painful thing, sometimes.

Halsin made a deferring motion to Staeve, who nodded in a rather un-catlike like way. Halsin stepped back from the log, moving slowly so as not to startle anything. He shifted a few feet away and sat close enough to watch, but far away enough that his looming size wasn't an ominous thing.

Staeve didn't go inside the hollow log. He sat at the entrance. Lay down at the entrance, body long and casual, head up on the lip of the log so he could keep looking inside. Modeling relaxation.

He started to purr. Halsin could hear him purring even from a few feet away. A loud, constant, soothing rumble. It somehow did not surprise Halsin that Staeve had a loud purr.

And then Staeve waited. Patient as anything. Waiting and watching and purring in a low buzz, as steadily as a beehive.

Halsin could not see inside the log, but he could guess at when Astarion moved because Staeve's ears would flick. Staeve had a fine poker face, but everyone had tells.

Something happened, or occurred to him, that made Staeve raise his head and sit up slightly from his sprawl on the ground. Then he stood up entirely. He gave Halsin a significant look, and trotted off into the underbrush.

Conscious that he had just been assigned new responsibility, Halsin shifted so that he had a good view of the log's entrances and everything around it. There wasn't much danger, Halsin’s presence in general kept most predators away from this space. But still.

During his vigil, Halsin saw the glimmer of red cat-eyes once. And only briefly.

Staeve came back soon. He had a dead vole in his mouth and he looked exceptionally pleased with himself. He dropped the vole at the mouth of the log, took a few pawpads back and watched expectantly.

It took another long minute, but after that minute a small white cat crept out of the darkness.

This should surprise no one, but Astarion was a beautiful cat. Slender and graceful with large eyes. His fur was pure, silvery white and just long enough to curl slightly. He moved with a cautious precision that Halsin recognized as his habit, and that deeply suited his new form.

He sniffed at the vole. He shot Staeve a judgmental look, because Gods forbid the man accept any kindness without prevaricating about it in some way. He glanced at Halsin. And then he leaned down to slide exceptionally long canines into the corpse's chest.

Staeve flopped down about a foot away and watched him with an expression of pleased devotion that would honestly be a bit more appropriate on a dog.

Astarion ate fastidiously, and without getting even a blot of blood on his snow-white fur. When he finished he licked his teeth.

When Staeve was quite sure Astarion was done eating, he sidled up slantwise, sauntering around the vole corpse as if he just casually happened to be taking a stroll in this part of the forest for no particular reason. He stopped just short of Astarion. His ears were forward. His tail flicked lightly from side to side.

Astarion regarded him levelly with his 'I know what you're doing and I know you think you're being clever about it but you're not' expression. Then, as if granting a boon, he deigned to rub his forehead gently against the underside of Staeve's chin.

Staeve took this as the invitation that it was and pressed back, much more enthusiastic and honest in his delight at the contact. Which in turn gave Astarion an excuse and space to do what he wanted and enjoy it.

They were always very dear to watch together. Whatever form they took. In about a minute they were curled over each other on the ground and Staeve was industriously grooming Astarion's head.

Halsin let this go on for as long as he could. But the shadows were lengthening, and they were very close to the Shadowlands, and he was out of spell slots, and the rogues were currently housecats.

"It is getting late, dear ones," he said softly.

Astarion twitched at the interruption, and Staeve licked him three times along the neck and chest in a soothing way. Then they disentangled from each other and padded over to Halsin.

Halsin picked up Staeve, but he knelt down and laid his arm on the ground so that Astarion could climb up and find what perch he wanted by himself. They did both end up in his arms. Staeve was tired and quite ready to be carried, and Astarion didn't want to be out of contact with him.

As Halsin walked through the woods with an armfull of cat, Staeve started to purr again. It was really the most marvelous sound. A soothing distillation of satisfaction and care. Almost enough to tempt one away from being a bear.

Astarion did not purr. Some cats didn't. Or purred only very rarely. But Astarion did, at one point, look up at Halsin and blink his bright red eyes very slowly.

And that was a precious thing.

****

Other stories like this.

****

#staeve #astarion #bg3 #Transformation #Fluff #Hurt/Comfort #Cuddling #A Great Deal Of Cuddling #Implied Trauma #Very Brief Peril #taking care of astarion as a group project

2K notes · View notes

bloodycyrano · 3 months

Text

Here's what Team Tadpole would do for you for valentine's day!

Karlach: She would get you the absolute BIGGEST plushie she could find, and chocolates. Post-upgrades, she would cuddle the plushie for a few nights beforehand so it smells like her. She'd probably bring you to a carnival- One that *isn't* infested with shapeshifters this time -and try to take turns winning each other prizes.

Wyll: Wyll Ravengard spares no romantic gesture. He brought you your favorite flowers and decided to take you out dancing! He wanted to finish off the night with a romantic walk on the beach, but Mizora crashed your date, and now the three of you are playing board games because she wouldn't leave- Which Wyll isn't exactly happy about, but he's content as long as he gets to spend time with you.

Gale: Gale would probably make you a home-cooked meal in his tower back at home and absolutely shower you with affection and little magic tricks to dazzle the eyes. He's constantly seeking that approval, so you'd better believe he's going all out.

Halsin: Halsin would take you on a picnic in the prettiest part of the woods he could find, and surprise you with a special wild garden bed of your favorite flowers. He'd also have a whittled duck for you.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart would bring you a single night-blooming flower and a bottle of wine. She'd probably take you somewhere dark and secluded where you could simply spend the night enjoying each other's company, away from the rest of the world.

Astarion: Astarion is happy to do almost anything as long as he's with you. You stopped by his grave to leave flowers- A cute gesture he's likely become accustomed to. Perhaps he takes you out to dinner, or to a play he knows you've been wanting to see, but the real treat is when he takes you back home to cuddle and read together. Horror novels and shocking favorites only.- You wouldn't expect it, but he does voices for the characters if you get him to read out loud. His faked accents are awful, but it's cute.

Ascended Astarion: Awe, you didn't think I'd leave you guys out, did you? So. He's likely to do something flashier. A wine tasting, or maybe take you to get a new outfit tailored to fit you perfectly. It doesn't match anything you'd actually choose to wear, but it paints the perfect picture of the vampire consort trophy spouse he's decided that you are. He keeps setting up little things that you feel are supposed to make you happy, but it's filled with a harsh coldness and an empty stare. You've all but given up hope that the Astarion you know and love is still in there until the night comes to a close, and he brings you home. He's being strangely affectionate and sweet. Cuddly. At first, you take this as a sign of better days - until he won't stop biting you, no matter what you say or do. Eventually, he's taken so much blood that you pass out; and you wake up in your locked chambers alone with a pretty, expensive necklace and roses. No note. It doesn't even matter if roses are your favorite flower or not. He doesn't care.

Lae'zel: She didn't know Valentine's Day was a thing. She can't pronounce it and literally had no idea why everyone was making a big deal about the holiday, etc. She was, however, very surprised when you brought her a gift. She tried to seem uninterested in the whole "mushy, romantic stuff," but you could practically see her heart melt when you made a romantic gesture. You spent the rest of the day together - She probably tried to bring you out hunting or sparring.

Durge: Durge would either give you a mortal heart in a jar or a vial of their own blood, and disturbing poetry they wrote for you. They might try to get you to get matching tattoos with them, but they won't push you if you'd rather not. Aside from that, they might take you to a cemetery or a long lost ruin to bask in the macabre beauty of the space. They'd also bring brownies they made themself.- They were going to pack a picnic, but they didn't want to smother you; and they're really better at baking than they are at cooking.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate meme #astarion #bg3 durge #dark urge #gale dekarios #baldurs gate tav #lae'zel #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #halsin #karlach #valentines day #bg3 scenarios #scenarios #ascended astarion

150 notes · View notes

fuzybby · 5 months

Text

Fatuous

A Gale Dekarios x gn!reader (with a vag)

Synopsis: You are quite the clutz aren't you? And Gale is in love with making you feel small.

CW: "mean" dom!Gale, the smallest bit of choking, p in v, p eating and d sucking, hair pulling, creampie, dumbification, Gale is kinda mean but he's hot so, I use the term cunt a lot, lmk if I missed any:)

The day seemed to stretch on far longer than any other day. The moment my companions and I started our adventure today, everything seemed to fall out of place for me. I managed to set off every trap, failed at persuading every goblin, and not to mention Gale has been on my ass all day. Using big words like fatuous and doltish. Later I learned these words are just other terms for stupid, but anytime he used them it seemed directed at me. Telling me that my attempt to pick the lock was doltish. Telling me that I was so fatuous for not seeing the trip wire. And as much as I hated being insulted by the man, it made my cheeks flush. Did I understand the words he was saying to me? No. Did it manage to still make my panties wet? Absolutely.

Finally, after so long of walking and falling behind because of how sore my feet were, everyone decided to create camp just as the sun was setting. I decided to take a bath in the lake not that far from camp, to which Astarion made a snarky comment that I should make sure not to trip and die on the way there. It took every urge to not smack him upside the head as I grabbed my extra clothes and walked off into the trees.

The lake was cold, but after sweating in my armour all day, I didn't mind. I stripped completely naked as I stepped in, walking up until the water was up to my waist so I could still soak in the few remaining rays of sunlight on my upper body. The area was quiet, only the sounds of chirping birds and animals scurrying in the grass keeping me company. I rubbed water over my arms and hugged myself, letting out a deep and shaky sigh as I replayed the day's events in my mind.

The sound of a twig snapping snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly look behind me to see Gale leaning against a tree. His eyes rake up and down my body that's above water, and I hug myself deeper to suppress the sudden chill that went down my spine.

"Glad to see you didn't slip and perish on your way here," Gale says, he smirks as he sees my confused face.

"Can you talk normally for once?" I groan, turning back around so I no longer see him. Hoping that if I don't look at him he'll go away.

"It's not my fault you're too dumb to understand my words." He calls, moving closer and closer to the water. Never entering it. He's close enough now I can smell him, the way his clothes smell of books and dust, does it do it to remind him of home? That's almost...sweet of him.

"Can you leave me alone? You're not making my day any better." My voice is shaky, the cold from the water finally catching up to me. I shiver slightly, but I hold myself tighter.

"But I could." He smirks, I can hear his clothes shuffling, most likely disrobing so he can enter the water.

My breath catches in my throat. I bite my lip and turn around to look at him once again. His shirt is off, and the tattoo from the orb in his chest glows beautifully against the barely-there sun. I look down to see his hands on his trouser ties, almost as if he's silently asking if it's okay for him to fully disrobe. I nod my head slowly, giving consent that I do want this. As much as his intelligence makes me want to smack him, I can't stand here and lie that I don't want this, that I don't want him.

His hands move quickly to take off his trousers, pulling off his boots and underwear as he finally steps into the water. My eyes drop down to his soft cock, the veins so barely visible, but then his waist hits the water and I can no longer see it. He comes up to stand right beside me, and I look up to meet his eyes.

"Do you want this? Because I will warn you, I have no intention of being nice." Gale states, his fingers trace across my arm so lightly, I could have said it was the wind that made the contact if it wasn't for the fact I could see his hand.

"I want this." I nod my head, I move one hand off my arm and trace a finger across his tattoo. "Please."

He seems to make a noise close to a growl, or maybe a snarl. Either way, he takes both his hands to grab my face and pull me to his own. He kisses me roughly, the kind of kiss where your noses squish against one another. I hold onto his shoulders in hopes of grounding myself, moaning into his mouth as he pushes his tongue inside. It's not a fight for dominance as he kisses me, I willingly submit to him. But before long, he pulls me away and starts taking steps back out of the water, and I follow him without a second thought.

"Get on your knees." He commands the moment we're out of the water, and I do exactly as he asks. "Do you want to suck this cock?" He asks me, and I nod. His dick is finally hard now, and I enjoy the way it twitches in the cool air. He already drips with pre-cum, it falls down the underside of his cock and drips to the ground.

I nod my head in answer, but Gale doesn't seem to like that. He roughly grabs my hair, letting it go slightly once he sees my face wince from the pain. "Are you too stupid to answer? Speak."

"I want to suck your cock." I answer with words this time, and he smirks. His face is so beautiful from this angle, hair falling over his face slightly as he looks me up and down.

"Go ahead then, be good for me and take it into your mouth." He says, and I keep my eyes on him as I lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip from the underside. His mouth falls open only slightly in a silent moan, his eyebrows scrunch together as his hold on my hair tightens. He doesn't force my head to do anything, he lets me set my own pace once I take his cock into my mouth fully. I try to keep eye contact the whole time, but the moment his dick hits the back of my throat I close my eyes. I hollow my cheeks as I get his length wet with my saliva, enjoying the taste of his salty pre-cum.

My jaw aches from how big he is, and I place my hands on his hips so I can steady myself. His moans start growing louder and louder as he gets to his release, and I prepare myself mentally to swallow his cum. Right as I start to feel his dick twitch, he pulls me off his cock. A line of saliva connects from his tip to my lips, his breathing is ragged as he calms himself down.

"I want to fuck you from behind." He says. it's not a suggestion, and the moment he let go of my hair I moved to my hands and knees facing away from him. I can feel him kneel behind me, his hands grabbing my waist and my ass. It's almost loving the way he grabs me, the way his hands move up to my breasts to play and toy with my nipples. He pinches and squeezes the flesh and I cry out at the feeling, but his hands quickly move back to grab at my ass.

"Your fucking ass is beautiful." He states breathlessly. He moves down slightly to press a gentle kiss to each cheek, before quickly smacking each place he kissed with a rough hand. I moan and grab at the dirt on the ground, my chest moves to lay against the forest floor as my ass stays high in the air.

His hands continue to rub and grope my behind, his thumbs move to my folds to spread me open, and my cunt contracts against nothing as he laughs mockingly at me. "What a pretty pussy." He whispers and moves to drag his tongue across my cunt. I gasp out his name, my legs shake from just one lick from his tongue.

"So they do speak. I had thought I had already fucked you dumb from your lack of words, I mean- dumber than you already are." Gale purrs, shoving his face back into my heat. I cry out as he ravishes me, the feeling of his tongue circling over my clit and then moving to tease my opening makes my eyes roll back. He gently takes my clit in between his teeth, and then licks it again almost as if to say "Sorry for biting you."

He eats me out like he was a starving man, his grip on my ass never relents. The feeling of my climax now dangling in front of me, tempting me to grab it. One more flick of his tongue on my clit and I come undone, crying out a serious of "please"s and his name. He doesn't stop sucking on my clit until I take a hand and try to shove his face away from me.

He sits back up and takes a hand to push my body down on the ground so I'm lying fully on my stomach. I'm still trying to take big deep breaths as he slides his length into me with one swift movement. He plants his hands next to my head and I grab his wrists. Tears roll down my face as he starts fucking into me slowly, overstimulation and the stretch of his cock making my mouth fall open in a silent scream.

Gale's position changes slightly, he moves his one arm to wrap around my neck so I'm locked in a headlock with his one arm. His thrusts never falter, if anything they seem to get faster. "Gods above your fucking tight." Gale moans. His one hand that's still planted by my head moves as well to grab my hand. Holding it in his own in a strangely affectionate manner.

"You feel s'good." I slurred my words, my one free hand that was not being held by his grasp and scratched at Gale's arm around my neck.

"You so pathetic like this," Gale smirks, he moves his head right next to mine so he can whisper in my ear. His hair falls over his face as he thrusts into me, his beard tickles the side of my face as he presses little kisses against my skin.

He pounds into me now, his cock hitting my g-spot every time he re-enters me. "Gale- I-I'm gonna cum-" I moan as my legs shake against his. I cry out once more, my body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy runs through my body. Gale moans along with me, his head moves so he can bite my shoulder to muffle his noises as he finally spills himself inside me. His thrusts don't stop until his legs shake, only then does he fully stop and press himself against me. I tap his arm still around my neck to signal him to get off, to which he quickly apologizes and moves off of me.

We both whine once he slips out, and he moves his hands to my folds once more to spread me open and watch his cum slip out of my cunt.

"Was I too much?" He asks, still watching my hole contract around the cum that oozes from me.

"No, I liked it," I say breathlessly, turning my head to look at him. his hair on his forehead and neck stuck to his skin from sweat, his beard still slightly stained from my essence. When he notices me looking at him, he smirks and presses a kiss on my lower back.

"Good, because this will be a regular thing."

#gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x reader smut #gale dekarios #gale smut #gale dekarious smut #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate gale

176 notes · View notes

sinizade · 5 months

Text

Izveta, the Blind Drow

Class: Monk (of Sashelas)

Romance: Astarion (not ascended)

Besties: Wyll / Gale / Karlach / Minsc / Scratch

Friends: Shadowheart / Lae'Zel

Momma reference: Jaheira

Izveta is the youngest of two sisters in the prestigious Noquar family, as she is the best among her sisters in letters and charisma, her mother placed her as her advisor and official scribe to write down all the family's great achievements and spread the greatness that they they deserved to have. All the problems in Izveta's life began due to the purchase of a simple slave, a surface elf who was taken to her home to serve the matriarch, but was given as a gift to Izveta because of her excellent work alongside her mother. Little by little the girl fell in love with that slave, a kind boy despite the situation he was in, a forest elf with beautiful green eyes.

The beauty that Izveta possessed was always a reason for "envy" of her sisters as she attracted not only the attention of other males but also of other matriarchs who always tried to have her around to show off the beautiful girl, and it was this beauty that ended catching the attention of that young slave who fell in love with Izveta and they both started to have a hidden affair, an affair that unfortunately ended up being discovered by her sisters, causing fear in Izveta, who, in a clear act of desperation, tried to run away with that slave, abandoning everything she had built behind her.

Her mother and sisters hunted them like animals... Not even giving them the opportunity for an explanation when captured. The slave, the elf that Izveta loved? Killed by her mother, but that pain was only accompanied by more long months of slow and sadistic torture, all the hate that her sisters harbored all these years was used to give them more motivation to torture her, her long white hair? Shaved with dull daggers that caused some cuts on her scalp. Her big red eyes? Blinded by drow poison, drop by drop until she lost her sight entirely. Killing Izveta would be dull, emotionless, out of sheer cruelty, her sisters burned all her clothes and left the girl alone naked in the solitude of the Underdark

Using the few senses she still had left, Izveta managed to reach the surface only to drown in the dark ocean, she didn't even remember how she got there, but now she just sank in the middle of the sea embracing her cruel and distressing destiny, until being saved by a strange creature, a dolphin made of water that seemed to take away all the agony of drowning until she was noticed by aquatic elves, monks of Sashelas, the Lord of the Undersea. She was adopted and cared for by creatures she once thought were inferior to her, she was treated as an equal even though drows have a terrible reputation inside and outside the Underdark.

It didn't take many years for Izveta to realize that her home was now there, and that, for some reason, she was saved by Sashelas, which ended up resulting in a clear admiration for the followers of the oceanic deity. Among the monks she learned to use her other senses to see, she would not need her eyes, but rather her body, concentrating all her energy and strength to protect the temple and spread the word of her Prince Dolphin, of her new deity...

Izveta's main objective in Baldur's Gate was to infiltrate Umberlee's temple, there were many strange things happening both in the city and in the seas and the water elves believed that those responsible for such chaotic acts were those who worshiped the Goddess of the Deep Wilds

Some curiosities about Izveta

She is vegetarian

She asked the aquatic elves to tattoo her eyes because she felt ashamed of the scars she had from the drow poison (She always wears clothes that cover her back for the same reason)

Her favorite color is white, well, even though she can't see that color anymore, she still likes it.

That strange incident with the dolphin seemed to give her a small and useful ability, she has better mobility when she is in the water, not in comparison to aquatic elves, but in comparison to other land creatures, Izveta has incredible mobility in the water

148 notes · View notes

justpoliteconversations · 3 months

Text

Running Circles [Reader + ???!Link]

The Chain faces an abnormality, and the tired soul it was dumped on. Chaos ensues.

Just another self-serving throwaway for the pile. Can you guess which Link this is for?

Masterlist

TW: I'm not responsible for anything the tiny bastard does. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

He was loose. Again.

In a moment of weakness you'd shut your eyes to rest and the little gremlin had slipped his harness and rolled his way out the room. A closed room, with one door, no windows and the key secured to your palm with leather straps.

With a tired groan you pushed yourself out of your bedroll, gathered the empty leash and harness around your wrist, took the key from its bounds and opened the door to...

A portal. Because of fucking course there'd be a portal out here in the middle of nowhere. Of course. That was just the story of your life these days.

You sighed, rubbed your sleep encrusted eyes with both palms and straightened your shoulders. You stood there for a few moments longer, stealing yourself for the chaos you'd surely find on the other side.

You just wanted five hours. That's all you ask. Five hours of uninterrupted rest. Hell, you'd be thankful for three.

No helping it though. The longer you waited the worse the situation would get. The man-boy-gremlin-(divine entity?) worked fast after all, and it'd be amidst for you to dally.

So begins another day. You entered the portal.

---

You were right. This was fucking insanity. There were lines of fire criss-crossing the battle-scarred land, ice pillars as far as the eye could see shining in the moonlight, broken weapons littering the ruined battlefield and whipping through the air on strong gales of wind. An honest to Goddess dire wolf was dashing though the chaos, fading in and out of the shadows with a sword in its maul.

Ah. But let's not forget the six(?), seven(?), no, 11 uncomfortably familiar looking men being rattled around like leaves in their plainclothes. Occasionally, they'd strike at the blur of unprecedented destruction running amok in their campsite when the opportunity presented itself.

And that familiar little blur had some sort of wand in his hand (you certainly hadn't given the little demon that), and was waving it around like a goddessdamned lunatic. In his wake, dust and embers and the glint of weaponry took flight in great glittering swarms, adding to the general mayhem of the situation.

Someone was screaming over the howling of the wind, but their voice was lost to the hurricane. A man fighting through the whirlwind of disheveled blue scarf face-planted into the ground with a startled cry, a small humanoid shape on his back before it was gone again in a swirl of movement.

A tall man with bright facial tattoos had jumped to the scarfed man's aid through the torrent of buffering wind, but not before the little agent of chaos had managed to snatch the scarfed one's sword off his back. Behind them, a man with heavy scarring was panting laboriously, drenched head to toe in stamina potion(?) and long hair coated in seed-like grains. One eye was sealed shut by some sort of glutenous substance, running down in great, blue blobs from his bangs.

The familiar cry of triumph drew your attention away from the trio, only to land on the spectacle that was four identical men being blasted across the clearing with a flick of the (magical?) stick. The sight of thier brightly colored tunics flashing over the (somehow still intact) fire pit drew a sigh from your lips.

Behind you, a boy in a lobster shirt whipped by with a half terrified half enthusiastic squeal, arms bound at his sides with his own belt and a deku leaf attached backwards at the buckle. A man in a white cape chased after, sweat pouring down his face and plastering twig laden hair to his forehead. His mouth was open in hard, labored pants, face flushed with the effort as he swat away any debris heading for the trapped boy swaying viciously in the gales before him.

At least the little bastard remembered your 'no-killing unless necessary' agreement. There was that, if nothing else.

The dire wolf was back (still carrying the damned sword), a shirtless, darker haired man mounted upon it with a red glowing sword strapped to his back in a leather harness. They were charging at the small figure latched on the tattooed man's back plates, while said man was struggling like a bucking stallion. The scarred one was trying to pluck the unruly little shit from his perch against the taller man's armor, aborting several strikes to avoid hitting the taller man by mistake.

The shirtless man astride the wolf bellowed in rage(?), confusion(?), delight(?) and dive tackled the unrepentant little leech, drawing his sword midair with a determined glint in his eyes. The wolf leaping right after, like a shadow at his heels.

The shithead dodged, of course. He always dodges. Though using the tall man he'd been harassing as a living meat shield was a rather ungentlemanly thing to do.

Wrong-footed, the shirtless man barreled into the scarred one with a painful thwack, sending them skitting across the field and unintentionally tripping up the caped man. The wolf followed shortly after, unable to stop, its bulk catching the tattooed one in the crossfire and slamming them both into the pile with wince-inducing force. The young, airborne one yelled down at them, but his voice was carried away with the wind that yanked him into the air with sudden vigor.

Ah. The little hell spawn was latched onto lobster boy's belt, the scarfed one's sword in hand, the wind stick between his teeth and a truly massive sword strapped to his back (where the hell had he got that from?) as they ascended up, up, up into the growing storm.

You finally noticed a pantless, screaming man clinging desperately to an off white glider far above the campsite, kept from simply blowing away by a long, dark rope made near invisible against the night sky. It was attached to a decent sized log, occasionally rolling when struck by oncoming debris and causing the man far above to curl ever tighter around the glider bar. The flash of his pale legs were the only indication of his movements so far into the darkness above.

The scarfed one had finally managed to right himself, and with a glance you could see the reason for his disorientation. The scarf wasn't just tangled around him, it had been half-hazardly tied around his face, neck and one unfortunate arm in several tight knots. He was further hindered by some form of red whip wrapped around his thigh, across his waist and into the loops of the scarf.

Okay. This had gone on long enough. With a great, near painful breath, you cupped you hands around your mouth and called. "LINK!"

High above the chaotic swirl of magic induced winds stopped and the familiar swoosh of misplaced air rang out in the sudden calm. Something falling (many, many things falling) caught your ear, and in the span of one breath to the next, he was before you. Him in all his beady eyed glory.

"HAA!" The irritating creature voiced at you, listlessly flat stare fixated on your tired eyes. You blinked, unimpressed. "HAAAA." He said louder, waiting expectantly for you to answer.

You sighed, tiredly, pulling your hand down your face once before taking another fortifying breath. You felt a tiny hand tug at your shirt, and when you looked back down he had tilted his head in question. He looked almost innocent, little ears perked up and curiously blank face almost cute in its simplicity.

The slow descent of once air bound hyrulians coming down to ground spoke otherwise, but it was whatever. He hadn't seriously maimed anyone, and that was an improvement. it was progress.

"Yeah. No one died, just like we agreed." You conceded, reaching out and ruffling his shaggy hair with a small, tired smile. A blush rose to his cheeks, a near smile of delight on his lips as he held your shirt with both hands. "You did a good job, buddy."

"Haaa!" He voiced with pride, pleased to have done a good job this time.

He turned, about to head off again, but you managed to grab him by the arm before he could escape. His previously happy smile dropped dramatically when he realized he'd been caught.

"Nope. I said you did a good job, but that doesn't mean you get to be off the leash." You said in reprimand, turning him this way and that to properly put his harness on as he half-heartedly struggled in your hold. He fought a little harder when you took the weapons from him, but he eventually relented when he saw your unhappy face.

Though that didn't stop him from frowning and stomping his foot in tantrum when you took the great sword from his back. That was it though, so you'd count that as a win in your books. He hadn't even threatened to bite you this time.

In the distance the dirtied, ruffled and clearly traumatized men were finally starting to pull themselves together. You paid them little mind though, instead plucking the pouting little hero from the ground and tucking him into your arms. He immediately hid his face in your shoulder, but didn't stop pouting. His little ears were pinned back angrily, arms crossed at the chest as he 'haaaa'd loudly in complaint.

You patted his back in comfort and he melted into it trustingly, burrowing himself into your hold with little huffs of equal parts annoyance and contentment. There was a commotion in the distance that finally drew your attention, ignoring the small man-boy-creature (divine agent of chaos and destruction?) as he began to fidget in your arms.

The tallest once looked panicked, the scarfed one (newly liberated from his bonds) just as much so. The pantless one was suddenly pointing at you, eyes wide and thin brows hiked high in shock as he begun to yell.

"That little demon's got it!"

Confusion settled over you, and then sudden, heart stalling understanding. You whipped your head down in panic, angry at yourself for not having checked his goddess-damned pockets.

You were met with the sight of a brightly lined, white-haired mask slipping onto the little hell spawn's smugly grinning face. His victorious little 'Haaa' lost to the sudden explosion of light and power flooding your senses.

Tense silence. When you regained your bearings, it was to the feeling of large, unyielding arms around your waist and braced under your thighs. Holding you securely to a broad chest and even broader shoulders.

A glowing white stare met your confused gaze when you finally opened your hazy eyes. Those unblinking, otherworldly eyes were set into a handsomely stoic face, complete with thin, down-turned lips and a straight nose. Ominously similar tattoos lined either side of the unknown man's face and crest down his forehead.

Someone was yelling in the background. Several someones.

"Hn." The unknown man hummed monotonously, still staring at you with those seemingly listless, blank eyes. So very familiar.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. Deeply.

'Fuck me. Not another one.'

---

Back to the shadows.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #not so mystery link

119 notes · View notes

a03heralding · 3 days

Text

Bg3 characters as unhinged shit I’ve done in the last 3 years:

Shadowheart- wore the strap when going to visit my ex and ended up doing the nasty when I went to “just get my clothes back”

Karlach- adopted a dog because I found out he was being left in the cold

Jahiera- baked edibles, ate one and then all of them because I forgot they were edibles, stared at the wall in silence for seven hours

Gale- womansplained why Men I Trust is one of my fave bands on a first date . There wasn’t a second date

Astarion- blocked someone I was arguing with on instagram and unblocked them just to like the message and blocked them again

Halsin- was an alcoholic

Lae’zel- Got into a bar fight and got one of my piercings ripped out

Wyll- went to live with an unhinged goth girl for four weeks during Covid

Minthara- almost got my head tattooed

Minsc- Took my dog with me to pick my blackout drunk gf from the club at 3AM

93 notes · View notes

the-travelling-witch · 2 months

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌‘𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

summary: what kind of music the piercers/tattoo artists of my modern au would listen to

characters: piercer!/tattoo artist! xiao :: scara :: kazuha :: venti :: aether :: heizou

my modern au || genshin masterlist || the playlist

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

melancholic and wistful/dreamy

black over-ears

When he felt like nobody around him understood him, Xiao fell into the comforting embrace of music, listening to artists who sang about the sentiments he kept to himself. It has always helped him express himself with pencil and pen though, letting the graphite tip dance over the paper more smoothly and less hesitantly. To this day, Xiao uses music to block out the world when it all gets too much and familiar tunes help him calm down.

死ぬのがいいわ- fuji kaze, exile- taylor swift/ bon iver, young and beautiful- lana del rey, gales of song- belle, the moon will sing- the crane wives

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀

indie rock

grey over-ears

Scara has been heavily influenced by Venti whose music could always be heard throughout their shared flat. While it vexed him at first, soon he found himself nodding along to the melodies, something his roommate noticed and then offered to share a Spotify account until Scara decided to make his own. And, although he’d rather die than admit it, despite how much he loathes his upbringing, he can’t deny that some classic pieces sneaked in between his usual rotation.

shake it out- florence + the machine, allies or enemies- the crane wives, too close- sir chloe , bohemian rhapsody- queen, winter- vivaldi

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

indie, folklore

old school white wired earphones

Kazuha loves to let his spirit rest as he absorbs the feelings artists pour into their music. For him, it’s important that he can connect to the story that’s being told, either through the lyrics or the sentiment the music conveys. He opts for rather calm songs that invite you to relax even if there’s a deeper meaning to the lyrics. Music is a way for him to create his peace of mind when he can’t be out and surrounded by the sound of nature.

feather- sabrina carpenter, cardigan- taylor swift, saw you in a dream- the japanese house, to the mountains- lizzy mcalpine, let’s fall in love for the night- finneas

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

the definition of “listens to every genre” but has a soft spot for deep and tragic lyrics paired with a funky and upbeat sound

both over-ears and earbuds; also has a collection of old wired earphones tangled together (half of them are broken too)

Venti’s Spotify account is working overtime, that app is never closed. As a former band member, he knows how to play a variety of instruments and has tried a lot of styles himself, so he’s very open minded when it comes to new genres. He also absolutely kills it at karaoke nights, even if he’s already a few drinks in. Something might actually be wrong when he’s not nodding or singing along to the music playing in his head or tapping out the beat on whatever surface is closest. In general, handing Venti the aux is a fantastic idea because he can somehow always accurately gauge what music is the right mood for the given situation. He also judges films based on the soundtrack.

夜に駆ける- yoasobi, people watching- conan gray, kingdom dance- alan menken, u- belle/millennium parade, icarus- bastille

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

(80s) rock and metal or pop

rose-gold or white earbuds

For Aether, listening to music is the time he can let his (gorgeous) hair down. While he’s normally busy making sure everyone else is okay and is doing fine, he seldom takes the time to take care of himself. So when he can lean back and turn up the volume, it’s a very welcome breath of fresh air. The deep base and powerful voices help catalyse any feelings that might have built up over time, and, just maybe, the songs and lyrics are familiar from the time he was lost and confused about what his place in the world was. Yet, he can also appreciate the catchy tunes of popular pop songs that get stuck in his head.

killer queen- queen, master of puppets- metallica, one step closer- linkin park, valentine- måneskin, paradise- sophie and the giants/ purple disco machine

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔

your local girl group stan

branded earbuds (ahem ahem airpods)

Heizou is a very energetic person and it shows in his music taste. Not only are his playlists full of upbeat kpop girl group bangers, he also knows just about all of the corresponding dances. More often than not, you can hear him humming and whistling along even when he doesn’t have his earbuds in. It’s also a great gateway to interacting with customers; you better believe Heizou is already halfway into a conversation when he catches a glimpse of a photocard.

fancy- twice, eta- newjeans, unforgiven- le sserrafim, queencard- (g)-idle, zimzalabim- red velvet

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

Genshin Impact: @mccnstruck @teyvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm @kazuuhhaaaa @inufinuf @ynverse @nico707 @boba-is-a-soup @hellithides @ryuryuryuyurboat @the-guardian-kitsune

Modern Au: @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @hoshiwitch @franaby

100 notes · View notes

thesweetnessofspring · 10 months

Text

Between the time the books Catching Fire and Mockingjay were released, it was a pretty common topic of discussion wondering what one word Peeta said to Katniss after she asked him to stay with her. "Always" was a very popular answer people gave, though I remember at the time just revolting at the idea because "always" had been tainted by Severus Snape and his creepy obsession with Lily Potter.

But the thing was...none of the other suggestions seemed to work (I even wrote this scene from Peeta's POV and used "course" as in "of course" but even that...didn't land quite right). Yet it honestly took me years to accept "always" as Peeta's response to this question because Harry Potter fans consistently linked it to Snape and even got tattoos of it. At the time it felt like THG and Peeta would never be able to compete with HP's popularity. But I've come around and seen that "always" is the only response Peeta could have given and to separate it from Snape.

How can Peeta say it to Katniss, even while she'd just before claimed to have chosen Gale, and have it come off sweet and caring but it's creepy for Severus Snape to say about Lily, who had chosen James?

There's the obvious fact that Snape called Lily a slur and joined an organization set on killing people like her while Peeta's never did anything like that toward Katniss while he was in his right mind, but it's not just that. And it's not that Snape's descriptions are less than flattering while Peeta comes across as handsome and charming. And it's not even that Lily didn't choose Snape while Katniss did choose Peeta.

It's that Peeta's devotion to Katniss is unconditional, while Snape's were conditional up until Lily's death when at that point she became Snape's memory rather than someone who could act and speak for herself. Really, Severus, where was "always" when you called her a slur, when you were serving Voldemort, when you were groveling to Dumbledore to save Lily but let James and Harry die, when you were abusing children as a teacher? Is that really "always"?

Whereas Peeta, well, first when he was hurt about Katniss not being sure of her feelings toward him and acted wounded, he properly apologized for it and then never did it again. He knew Katniss would want to bring Gale if they ran away and never guilted her about it. He came in to defend Gale when he was whipped. He saved Katniss when Peacekeepers came to question her. He got them ready for the Quell and protected her with the baby bomb. He was willing to give up his life so she could have the life he assumed she wanted (or would eventually want) with Gale, Prim, and her mother. And in the Capitol as a prisoner, he made what deals he could to protect her and fought through his hijacking to warn her about the plans to bomb 13 and endured more torture because of what he did.

Of course, then the hijacking happens. He tries to kill her. He insults her. We can see how Peeta was hurt and confused and resentful of Katniss's treatment of him, even what she admitted to and not just what the Capitol put in his head. It seems like "always" could actually have an end.

But that's the thing. It doesn't. In the middle of war during a battle when his fight response was compelling him to act and kill on his conditioning, not only did he resist his hijacking, he came back to Katniss when she reached out and asked him to stay with her. He reaffirmed his promise. Always.

And he follows that up by continuing to protect her during the rest of the war, when she almost took her nightlock pill, and as soon as he was released from his treatment went to comfort her and help her heal from her sister's death. And as we see from the epilogue, he did stay with her, from the nightmares and bad days to the difficult pregnancies and the days in between. He stayed with her: the real Katniss, not a ghost or fantasized ideal.

And that's why Peeta could only respond with always. And that's why always belongs to Peeta Mellark. Because he actually meant it.

#the hunger games #peeta mellark #everlark #explorethg #always #sometimes i feel like the fandom grandma like “back in my day we didn't know what peeta said to katniss!”#hopefully it's not too annoying #anti severus snape #anti snape #anti snily #tw harry potter #this ended up being a lot longer than i had planned #but get me going about everlark and i won't stop

326 notes · View notes

mintharaworshipper · 27 days

Text

BG3 headcanons (modern AU)

My brain is full of headcanons and I need to get them out!

Shadowheart: She’s an English teacher. Always advocates for her queer students, who see her as a refuge. Loves sweets and pastries and is always carrying a snack in her backpack. Dyes her hair once a month, different colour every time. Chronically online, Tumblr and Twitter user, has the best taste in memes out of all the gang. Writes poetry and fan fiction. Grew up in a cult and lives with religious trauma, but she goes to therapy and does her very best.

Astarion: He’s a lawyer, of course. Has an impeccable aesthetic in his instagram profile, with a defined palette. Very good taste in clothing. He was physically and emotionally abused by his stepfather when he was a kid and hasn’t really worked through this trauma (Shadowheart always encourages him to go to therapy). Very close friends with Shadowheart.

Minthara: Lawyer, but has specialised in finance and has rapidly climbed the financial ladder via questionable methods. CEO of a major company. Impeccable taste in fashion. Vegan. Has a section in her closet filled with BDSM paraphernalia. Everything she owns is expensive. She’s the daughter of a powerful senator who was very emotionally abusive to her growing up. Staunch defender of capitalism. Wakes up naturally at 5 am. Does yoga and tai chi.

Lae’zel: She’s in the air force, has wanted to be since she was a girl. She’s in the spectrum and has only recently realised. Her special interests are planes and meteorology. Wakes up very early to run 10k. Extremely mindful about her eating, every meal is perfectly balanced for her specific nutritional needs.

Karlach: Non-binary. P.E teacher, works at the same school as Shadowheart and that’s how they met and started dating. Loves large dogs. They are a personal trainer on the side. Loves going to the gym and is very supportive of new people. Friends with Wyll since high school.

Jaheira: Anthropologist, environmental and anti-gentrification activist. Has lived in her neighbourhood forever and hates that it’s getting gentrified. Being a local icon and leader, a few political parties have tried to get her to run for office but she always refuses because she doesn’t trust the establishment. Has been arrested multiple times at demonstrations. She’s so devoted to her activism that she has neglected her children at times. Chain smoker.

Halsin: Environmental lawyer. Has worked in multiple NGOs. Has been to therapy. Single, not for a lack of suitors, but because he wants to find a life partner. Has been a vegetarian for decades. Has a bear tattoo.

Wyll: Entrepreneur. Devoted to The Grind™. Has taken classes on gender politics. Goes to the gym with Karlach and uploads mirror selfies. Has asked Minthara to be his mentor but she keeps refusing. Has also been to therapy.

Gale: Successful academic. Has been going through a terrible divorce with another famous and powerful academic. Excellent cook, makes his own sourdough bread. Likes the finer things in life.

Bonus: My OC, Ramona

Literature major but has no academic ambition whatsoever. She does know a lot about it and runs a literature club for troubled teenagers with Shadowheart.

Was working as a barista when she met Minthara and was immediately enthralled.

Has shared a flat with Shadowheart since uni, and they’re best friends.

She’s easily the funniest one in the gang.

Always manages to get free stuff or discounts just because of how nice and persuasive she is.

Excellent liar (white lies, mostly).

Wears recycled clothing almost exclusively, which Minthara hates.

Everyone hated Minthara when they first started dating but over time, as she changed, they managed to put up with her, even growing fond of her (most of them).

I’ve been trying to write some fics but I can’t seem to find the courage to. I enjoy coming up with headcanons more

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #shadowheart #astarion #minthara #lae'zel #jaheira #halsin #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #bg3 tav

37 notes · View notes

lillithhearts · 5 months

Note

Hey! Sorry if this is a bother, but I was wondering if you could do a headcannon of how Will, Gale, Astarion and Karlach would comfort you after top surgery? I’m getting mine soon, and baldurs is my comfort game, and this would be so incredible! Thank you for your time, really! Your work is incredible!!

Hi omg so like warning, I am a genderfluid afab so this writing might not be spot on for you but Im gonna try my absolute best pooks

Warnings: Not proofread! Talk of gender dysphoria, slight mentions of Transphobia

Transmasc!Tav x Bg3 chars

She doesn't really understand but that by no means she's not supportive, Whatever you wanna do you do. You look sexy as hell anyways.

Would definitely wanna see your scars and depending on your approach of them would compliment them, say they "add character" and "show how badass you are" after confiding in her of the struggles of being Trans she admires you 100 times more because she couldn't imagine feeling like that and being the sunshine you are

will hold you, talk with you, listen to you during the entire process. And if anyone ever says anything negative about them OR you? Oh hold her back or she might upper cut someone, you learned that the hard way. Smothers you in affection and reassurance before and after the surgery telling you she doesn't find you less attractive and that you'll be absolutely breathtaking no matter what you look like.

He listens to you all the time, if you go into a dark place about your identity and what you look like he will sit right at your side and tell you the sweetest things and you can tell he's 100% genuine

Like Karlach he will be there with you throughout the entire process, will help you apply creams and other remedies that'll help with scarring if you are uncomfortable with them, might even try and find a healer to try and get them completely removed.

But if you choose to just let your body heal naturally and whatever happens of the scars happens he will lay his chin on your chest while looking up at you. Just, looking at you

You are genuinely the most handsome man he's seen in his entire life and he would tell you till you lose your hearing.

Wyll is your number.1 defender in anything but especially your identity. He never even mentions youre trans to others not even his family and if they ask he just shrugs and says "Tav is Tav, and I love Him very much"

Said with a "that's that" tone to ensure the others do not engage further, unless you feel comfortable sharing your experience obviously.

He gets what it's like to feel out of place in your own body, he gets the disassociation and confusion of it— not in the way you do and he says that, telling you he wouldn't wanna compare your situation to his and that they are vastly different.

Would probably trace his fingers over your scars (with your consent ofc) whispering about how Gorgeous and Handsome you are, he tells you to not bat (ehe) them much mind they do not define you or your identity as a man.

He could go on about you and your greatness for hours if you ever felt upset before or after the surgery, grabbing your face and making you look at him while he admires the face of the love of his life.

He can understand the out of body experience you might experience and sympathize with you

Definitely the kinda guy to say "get tattoos over em" if you say you don't like the look of them, I think he finds Tattoos very attractive and if they make you feel better that's even better!

If you needed to get your mind off it he would just nudge you with a few Magic facts and see if you bite so you can listen to his very non-coherent rambles

Probably the first person to see you after it, will literally fight his way through Doctors and nurses to see you holding your favorite things.

And you'll never forget how his eyes light up at seeing you, He sees you're so much happier now and you feel more comfortable and he's so extremely proud of you.

THIS MIGHT BE SHIT??? but congrats on getting your top surgery date and I hope you recover well and feel at ease with yourself. PLEASE STAY SAFE AND LOVE YOURSELF YOURE WONDERFUL💋

#bg3 #bg3 x reader #halsin x reader #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #bg3 fic #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #bg3 karlach

58 notes · View notes

thebigbiwolf · 7 months

Text

Starvin' Darlin - Chapter 2

Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav

Chapter Summary: Seeing Evelyn with Gale stirs up some unfamiliar and VERY unwelcome feelings in Astarion. And for some reason, she graces him with a midnight visit. I'm terrible with summaries but here's what's in store for you:

* A bit of possessive!Astarion if you squint

* More pining

* More biting

* Deep DEEP emotional constipation (my personal favorite)

Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.

Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 5k

A/N: School and life have been kicking my ass but I finally got around to finishing this chapter and I couldn't wait to post it! I'm having so much fun writing in Astarion's POV. Huge thank you to my bestie @imaginarydromedary for being the best beta ever and for your endless patience with me.

The morning that follows that fateful night in Evelyn’s tent goes rather well, all things considered.

She approaches Astarion first. A pleasant surprise, considering they could hardly look at each other after he ravaged her the night before.

He looks over the novel he had been skimming, Shanties for the Bitch Queen . Admittedly, not one of his favorites, but reading material was scarce these days. He closes it with a soft thud and rises to meet her, all pleasant smiles and perfectly coiffed hair.

“Good morning.” he says, a curious tilt to his head.

She looks a bit more pale than usual with faded, grim circles forming underneath her eyes. Her bun is a bit unruly, some strands falling into her face and parted by the wine-dark bone of her horns. She either didn’t sleep well or is still reeling from the anemia.

The bruise he administered had spread and darkened, plainly visible even under the black ink of her tattoos. It seems she found no use in hiding it, then. Very well. It’s not like they keep extra scarves laying about the camp, anyway.

“How do you feel?” he asks, gently. He doesn’t mean to provoke her, but his curiosity is getting the better of him, and the slightest hint of shame is beginning to burrow its way into his conscience. Ugh . He thinks he prefers the tadpole.

“A bit woozy.” She responds, “I woke up this morning with the intention of asking you how one usually fares after being drained, but then I remembered,” she stops herself when she realizes what she’s about to say: I was your first. Unspoken, but lingering between them . It makes him want to laugh; A woman with a reputation such as hers acting so bashful .

“It’ll pass,” he reassures, “Just be glad I’m not a true vampire. A bite from one of them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self. All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

“Speaking of hunger,” Evelyn says, realizing she’s famished. She turns from him and begins making her way towards the campfire. Finding that only charred logs and old cinders remain, she runs the black tip of her boot through the ashes with the intention of stoking the fire back to life, dust clouding, then dispersing before her.

He follows closely behind, observing. She seems well, all things considered. A bit out of sorts, but nothing a bit of rest couldn’t cure.

“You know, I had considered bringing you an apple,” Astarion starts, hovering by the pit, “Leaving it by your bedside before you rose for the day - ever the gentleman, but,” he clears his throat.

That newly recognizable twinge of something is curling its way back into his chest, causing him to squint in discomfort.

In truth, he didn’t know how she would react to him encroaching on her space. Not after that dreadful attempt on her life. He is a monster, after all. That, and she had already been so insufferably forgiving. Such kindness is likely to reach its end sooner rather than later.

“I - erm, didn’t want to disturb your rest.” is what he finally settles on. Polit , he thinks, Best not overdo it.

“That would have been nice of you.” She says it quietly, more to herself than to him.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea how nice I can be.” The flirtation sneaks its way out of him on an impulse. He’s about to apologize, something he seems to be doing a bit too often for his taste, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches one of their companions making their way towards them.

“It appears we have company.” Astarion sneers, “And here I thought I was going to have you all to myself this morning.”

To the elf’s surprise, most of them were quick to come around to the idea of a vampire spawn slinking about. Especially once they found themselves in the middle of an ambush, and Astarion very quickly made good on his promises to her.

Newfound strength coursed through his body, her blood weaving threads of heat through his veins as if it were his own. His speed was unmatched, cutting down half a dozen goblins before they had a chance to wail.

It was exhilarating .

The day flew by in flashes of red. Despite the many unnecessary stops Evelyn insisted on making to help undesirables, Astarion’s emotional high managed to remain relatively intact. That was, until their group settled in for the night.

As most of the others retired to their tents, the elf prepared for his nightly ritual: sifting through his collection of tomes and selecting one to read under the stars - his favorite way to end the evening.

It was supposed to be perfect. Uneventful. Quiet .

But, there was Gale: lost in thought and muttering to himself, or maybe to the conjured image of some woman’s head floating above his hand. Astarion may have been able to ignore that in itself, but the sound of light footsteps drew his attention.

Evelyn was approaching the wizard.

He scoffs. Of course Gale was showing off in hopes of procuring her attention. The man was practically putting on a damn light show in his desperation. It’s not enough that the wizard eats valuable items they could be using to pawn for coins, but does he really have to be such an unbearable distraction as well?

“Pretty,” he recognizes the word as it leaves her. The sound of their chatter was too faint for it to carry its way to his beautifully pointed ears, but he could just barely read Evelyn’s lips at this angle.

Gale startles, dropping his hand along with his focus. The woman’s visage vanishes. He looks embarrassed, shifting uncomfortably as he no doubt explains himself in some horribly mundane fashion.

Astarion returns to his book, scanning over the page, but the words refuse to settle in his mind. He stares at the ink, willing the sentences to fill his head with anything other than the nonsense unfolding in front of him, but his focus stubbornly remains on the chattering pair.

Gods, he’s talking her ears off.

At any moment, Evelyn will dismiss the man, embarrassing the hells out of him, which will make for an excellent show. That in itself is enough reason to keep watching. But the longer this goes on, the less he’s sure.

She seems to be enjoying their chat, nodding in agreement at Gale’s words, listening to him without so much as a hint of impatience. Gale then steps behind her, a bit too close for the likes of an average, friendly conversation. His chest almost touches the woman’s shoulder as he moves into her space, the cloth of his nightshirt just barely grazing her.

Something within Astarion begins twisting in protest. His thumb runs over the long-forgotten page in circles. The rough texture reminds him that yes, he was supposed to be reading, or at least attempting to look disinterested, but he can't will himself to turn away.

Gale smiles softly down at her, then begins to move his arms in a way that could only be described as a poor imitation of a wounded bird. Purple light emanates in front of the two of them in response. More magic tricks. Of course. As if that would be enough to impress the woman who’s supposedly been at the receiving end of every imaginable courting attempt in Faerun.

Astarion rolls his eyes, content to continue his chapter of The Realm According to Bumpo, before he notices Evelyn following suit, imitating the very same motions. She, however, has a grace about her, unlike the bearded beast at her side. Her movements are quick and decisive, abandoning all flattery for precision. The burst of light emanates from her palms, just as it had for the wizard.

She looks pleased. Elated, even. This is the first time he’s seen her smile since she made a fool out of him in her tent, caressing his body and reveling in its reaction, like he was some sort of toy. Though her expression looks different to him now. He can’t quite place his finger on why.

He swallows, attempting to alleviate the tightness in his throat.

A purple aura starts radiating around them, dancing and swaying in waves, as if the two were surrounded by a flowing channel of lavender, smelling of rosewater; the sun setting over a dark ocean. Even from a distance, the sight pulls at something inside him. An unwelcome ache settles within his chest.

Evelyn turns to the man next to her, unaware that they’ve been drawn closer by the magic enveloping them. She tilts her head back to meet Gale’s gaze. The way he’s looking at her, the flecks of gold in her irises locked with his: deep, brown, and moving, makes Astarion’s skin itch.

He finds himself wondering what color his own eyes were before his transformation. Were they so seemingly honest, so trustworthy in their melanism, before they became what they are now? Sharp, red, and tinted by bloodlust. Wouldn’t they be boring?

“You’re staring.”

He’s pulled from his brooding by the sound of Shadowheart’s observation. He hadn’t noticed her approaching him, distracted by that sickening, sweet smell. “Or has the tadpole gifted you with the ability to telepathically commune with books?”

“I’m simply admiring our wizard’s talents.” Astarion says, dismissing her with a wave, “Making sure all those expensive boots and rings haven’t gone to waste. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Unnecessarily sacrificing clothes that may have suited you while you’re having to traipse about in a tin can?”

The cleric snickers, “I see. Is that why you look like a kicked pup? Or, are you upset that your master’s replaced you with a new lapdog?”

He slams the book closed. The sound surprises Evelyn, and the magic surrounding her and Gale dissipates.

He doesn’t dignify Shadowheart with a response, nor does he spare a second glance at the others before retreating to the quiet solace of his tent.

”That wretched little…” He grumbles to himself as soon as he closes the entrance, tossing Bumpo atop the other novels in his collection, all piled haphazardly on the small desk occupying a corner of his living space.

This type of reaction was unusual for him. Astarion would normally be happy to engage in petty banter. The more scathing, the better, but Shadowheart had somehow weaseled her way into a tender area. It left him feeling exposed, and a bit nauseated at the idea of allowing someone so clearly beneath himself, at least in terms of wit, to get the better of him.

Taking a deep breath, Astarion focuses on releasing the tension in his jaw. Best not to let this ruin his entire night, he reasons, before lighting several half-melted candles littering his quarters. Their flames emanate a soft, golden glow, and the process is meditative enough to finish soothing him.

He doesn’t have watch tonight, so he allows himself some extra comfort, removing his shirt before sinking down into the soft furs of his bedroll. Astarion closes his eyes to trance, thinking the extra rest will do him some good, but the image of Evelyn rushes back to his mind - the way her soft lips parted in surprise, realizing her and Gale’s close proximity, and how his gaze flitted down to her mouth in return..

The wizard should be wearing a damn collar around his neck with how she commands his attention. It’s pathetic.

It couldn’t be a matter of coincidence, surely. She must know the effect she has on the man. If Gale harbors feelings for her ( yuck ), even if it were the result of close quarters, Evelyn could use it to her advantage. She had just revealed the effectiveness of similar tactics to him last night, and a powerful wizard would be a powerful ally.

Whereas, Astarion is just… a vampire spawn. Not even a true vampire. A slave. A nobody.

He rubs his face in frustration. The Sharran did have a point. Astarion may have an insatiable appetite, happy to receive all matters of attention from whatever suitors decide to shower him with it, but what about her? What if Evelyn found him less interesting, less worthy of her time and, subsequently, her protection?

No. His ego balks at the suggestion.

Besides, he had felt her lust for him not 24 hours ago. It moved through him as though it was his own, and the taste of her still lingers on his tongue. He heard the hitch in her breath - felt it under his own lips, and reliving the memory still stirs a familiar hunger within him.

Though, they still haven’t spoken about it.

The usually quiet, insecure part of him wonders if she’d just rather forget it altogether. He could empathize with that, at least. It’s easy enough for him to imagine their last encounter may have left her feeling disgusted, used.

Guilt worms its way back into his mind, cozying up right next to his tadpole but oh, so much worse .

He hasn’t felt like this since the beginning of his servitude. He assumed the emotion had been neglected long enough to be left entirely behind him, overshadowed by the threat of whatever new, interesting ways Cazador would think of to torture him at the mere suggestion of disobedience. But here, in the thin veil of safety he’s allowed himself to believe shrouds him, he aches.

It’s unbecoming.

Instead of resting as he should, Astarion isn’t quite sure how much time he spends ruminating on ways to quietly rid the party of Gale, before he hears the faintest rapping at the canvas of his tent.

At first, he believes he imagined it, and gives the noise little consideration before settling back into his trance. But then, he hears it again: quick, rapid tapping. A knock.

It surprises him. He hurriedly moves to stand. In the faint glow of the candlelight, the shadow at his doorstep dances against the closed fabric, smaller than himself and horned. A visit from Evelyn at this hour? Strange.

He undoes the ties and opens his space to her.

Her hair is undone, dark waves falling over her shoulders and obscuring the marks he gave her. She’s wearing the same clothes she wore to bed last night, the very same black breast band. It smells as if it's been washed, though, with no lingering scent of her blood. Her loose, matching trousers settle high on her waist, just above her navel. She looks exhausted.

Being run ragged by the events of the day while also having to contend with a missing pint or two of blood may have had more of a negative effect than anticipated.

Evelyn doesn’t say anything at first, but he catches her eyes glancing at his bare chest before retreating back to his own, cementing themselves there. He raises an eyebrow at her, smirking, and thinks about teasing her. The temptation threatens to get the better of him, but he refrains, not wanting this unexpected visit cut too short. “Need something?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Her stare is unwavering, a commitment worthy of admiration.

“Right this way.” Astarion bows slightly towards her, an arm raised behind him to gesture her inside. She steps past him, careful to not brush against his exposed skin. He closes the entrance behind them, shutting out the ambient noise and drowning them in silence. His space is large enough to accommodate himself and his essentials quite comfortably, but it's infinitely smaller with her here.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you.” there is a hoarseness to her voice. She must have woken up just before making her way over.

“No, actually. I was just catching up on some reading.” Not entirely a lie. He had been reading at several points tonight. “What is it you want to discuss? I’m assuming there’s a reason this couldn’t wait until morning, not that I mind.”

“It's about you.”

Oh. No midnight gossip, then.

"I’ve been thinking about how we’re going to continue feeding you.”

“You’ve been up all night tossing and turning because you're concerned about my eating habits?” he responds, unamused, and crosses his arms.

“I have not been tossing and -” she’s about to argue with him, he thinks, but her exasperation causes her to lose her concentration. She breaks eye contact, distracted by the toned curves of his biceps, then snaps her gaze to the floor. “Would you please put on a shirt?”

“Ha!” His laugh is humorless. “I’d like to think we’re well past the point of propriety. Besides, you're in my tent.”

Evelyn pinches the bridge of her nose. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“Come now, darling. Why are you really here?”

She sighs in frustration, as if he should already know.

“I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Ugh, I’ve already apologized. What more do you want?”

A moment passes in uncomfortable silence. He can practically hear the gears grinding in her head as she searches for the right words, and he'd give anything to reach out with his tadpole and take the unfiltered thoughts from her mind. Instead, he takes pity on her.

“Unless, you’re looking for another nibble?”

It's a joke, a way to clear the tension from the air. Entirely unserious.

She doesn't laugh.

Instead, she looks around the room: first at his assortment of decorative pillows, then to the empty elixir bottles piled in a corner, anywhere but himself. "Well, I - I don’t know.” She clears her throat. “I just figured after today’s performance, it may be for the best.”

Wait. What?

He stiffens, so taken aback by her suggestion that the elf almost believes he’s still mid-trance.

“What?”

“I may be willing to help you again, when necessary.”

She has to be joking.

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’m serious, if it would help.”

“It would.”

“Then, yes.”

They stand almost toe to toe, Astarion once again absorbing her warmth. He hadn’t noticed their height difference the first time they did this, too busy devouring the poor woman like some deranged beast, but it's notable here, on equal footing. Peering up at him, her nose aligns with his collarbones.

"Tonight, then?" she asks.

"Eager, are we?"

She shrugs with indifference, "Just in case we run into any trouble at the goblin camp tomorrow."

The very picture of practicality. What else did he expect?

"Alright, then."

"Alright."

That nagging sensation begins to tug at him again - the very same one he felt as he had stepped out of her tent last night. A weak but unshakeable tension, like a magnet, uncomfortable as it is alluring. The force of it draws his body closer to hers where she stands, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Underneath her calm exterior, Evelyn’s heart is pounding. Though her breaths are steady, controlled, he can hear it from where he stands. For a moment, those are the only sounds filling the space between them, until the tiefling speaks up.

“You’re tall, for an elf.”

An oddly-timed observation, but a true one. His brother, Petras, was always outwardly envious of him for it. Though, he's not sure why it sounds so flattering coming from her lips.

“How kind of you to notice.”

She scans the room, searching for something, until she spots the table. Her fingers run along the dark ringlets in the wood, tracing the hardened puddles of forgotten wax, until they reach his heaping pile of books. She taps her fingertips on his leather bound copy of Bumpo .

“May I?”

He nods, unsure of what’s been asked of him.

Evelyn gathers the novels in her arms before piling them carefully onto the floor in a few leveled stacks, clearing the space. ”That should be enough room for one of us to sit,” she says, evenly.

Then, there is a heavy silence; anticipation. It hangs in the air thick as smoke, twice as suffocating. She's only taken a few steps from him, but it’s as though she’s crossed an ocean. The distance between them begins to develop its own gravitational pull, making the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“Whatever’s most comfortable, dear."

The tiefling nods, then plants herself on the table’s surface, legs hanging over the edge. Evelyn is now eye-level with him, her irises glossy; catching and reflecting what little light dances off the few remaining candles beside her.

She tilts her head at him, expectantly. Her face remains neutral - practiced, as though she feels nothing at all; as if she isn’t trying to drive him mad.

She’s back to playing her little games.

Fine.

Astarion’s posture straightens as he strides towards her, confidently closing their distance. He places his hands at her sides, not quite touching her, but still close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body, even through her clothes.

“Now, where would you like it?” The question sounds innocent enough, but the double meaning is not lost on her.

Her grip tightens at the table’s edge, knuckles whitening.

His head tilts downwards, looming over her like a predator, and the scent of vanilla invades his nostrils. The sweetness settles on his palate before spreading across his tongue, coating it with a rum-like burn. He runs the flavor over the sharp edges of his teeth.

"I could do it here," he whispers, dipping his nose and running the tip of it along her nape. He quietly revels in how she prickles beneath him, her body betraying her feigned indifference.

"Or, here." One of his thumbs trace the flat of her wrist in slow, circular motions, causing the pulse beneath it to flutter.

"Or…" His other hand slides atop her knee, fingers gripping and parting her thighs just slightly…

She snaps them shut.

"Just do it, dickhead."

He hums a laugh.

“As you wish.”

The cool brush of Astarion’s lips on her neck has Evelyn’s heart racing, a frantic drum beating against his ears. It’s just as intoxicating as he remembers, threatening to muddle the edges of his mind. “Just try to keep still for me.” he whispers.

The warning is sincere, but the stubborn woman misinterprets him. Thinking he’s toying with her, she opens her mouth, intent on insulting him, but stops short, whining pitifully when his fangs break the surface of her skin. Her body flinches at the initial discomfort, but otherwise remains virtually motionless; compliant.

Drinking from her now feels like an entirely new experience. This time, he anticipates the raging current - knows how to find his footing. Rather than being ripped under, it feels as though Astarion is floating, enveloped in warmth unlike any he’s ever known. At best, he would imagine it similar to a hug, had he ever been on the receiving end of one.

He begins to lap at the wound to keep it from closing, the press and drag of his tongue drawing out a few small, involuntary twitches from the girl. She’s being so good for him, staying put like she’d been told; fighting her own restlessness, the urge to squirm in place.

If only she would allow him to reward her, to offer his body in exchange for this endless parade of favors, he would take the chance in a heartbeat. It would be so, so easy with her, unlike any miserable encounter he’d been forced into partaking in the last few centuries. He knows he would enjoy her body, along with all the lovely little sounds she would make for him; the temporary bliss.

And it would be a fair price to pay for keeping him safe, fed, and warm .

The mental image has Astarion’s hand moving without his knowledge, too engrossed to notice his own palm caressing the side of her face. His thumb traces the edge of her cheek as he holds her there, allowing the weight of her head to rest against his fingers. Dark strands of hair brush against his knuckles, bringing him back to the present.

He thinks Evelyn hasn’t noticed yet, believes himself safe to correct the mistake without any mutual discomfort.

Which leaves him infinitely more overwhelmed when her smaller hand grazes up the length of his arm, wrapping it around his wrist to keep it in place. Her body relaxes into his touch, seemingly more grounded.

The intimacy is like a punch to the chest.

She’s suddenly too close for comfort. It’s claustrophobic - suffocating, strangling him along with whatever sense he had left, apparently. That damned vanilla, the dizzying scent of her blood -

Air, he thinks, I just need some fresh air.

Astarion pulls away from her, readying an apology and an excuse to swiftly dismiss the woman.

But when Evelyn meets his gaze, the words die prematurely.

She is a vision , freckles dappling her skin like star-covered porcelain, now flushed red from nose to cheeks. The whites of her eyes have gone glossy, dazed and dream-like, tempting him further into her space.

Her tongue darts out to wet her parted lips, the small gesture commanding his attention. He finds himself entirely fixated on them, as if it would take another life-altering, unnatural disaster to pull his focus away.

Evelyn’s lashes flutter in recognition, then she quickly releases his wrist. The residual heat fades before he can appreciate it, leaving him cold once again.

“Oh, sorry.”

“My apologies."

Their speech overlaps, then silence fills the room again, and they are left to stare at each other. His hands suddenly feel much too idle at his sides, itching. He throws on a polite smile, a familiar mask, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Astarion has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His hunger is sated, and he should feel satisfied. He should feel like a new man.

So why, then, does he only feel this intolerable weight in his chest?

Why does his stomach turn at the idea of her so carelessly offering herself up to any vampire spawn, let alone himself , despite the obvious danger?

Why is he so deeply frustrated by her lack of self preservation?

Isn’t this exactly what he wanted; to have her crawling back for more?

He can't help but wonder if this sudden apprehension is part of her little plan: to confuse him, drive him to distraction, then bring him to his knees like every other unfortunate man she’s had in her sights before robbing them and tossing them aside.

Out-seducing a vampire would admittedly be an admirable feat, but why? What could her angle be, when Astarion has nothing to offer her?

“Are you alright? You look… lost.”

He blinks back to the present.

“I - ” He coughs, " Ahem . Yes, dear. Of course.”

Hot, crimson streaks drip down the sharp bone of his chin. He springs into action, away from her unfavorable concern, and grabs his nightshirt from off the floor behind him. He has just the one, beautifully embroidered and sewn back together countless times by his own hands, now being used in place of a common napkin.

Evelyn gasps. The sound is like ice, piercing his chest when he realizes his mistake. The devil’s never seen him without a shirt on before now. Meaning, she had never bore witness to the elaborate poem carved into his back - ugly, raised scars painting his flesh and soiling his otherwise perfectly sculpted muscle.

He regrets not humoring her request to redress earlier.

The elf plays off the noise as if he hadn’t heard it, turning to hand her the clothes and hoping she knows better than to mention anything of it. She silently takes the garment from him and places it where he had bitten her. A blooming red stain soaks into the pale fabric. He’ll have to work on getting it out for the next several days, if it decides to come out at all.

Evelyn finally moves to stand, teetering a bit from lightheadedness. Astarion reaches out to steady her, but she shakes her head, declining.

“I’m okay.”

He retracts his hand. The damned thing’s gotten him into enough trouble tonight already.

“Well then, you should get some rest.”

She scoffs, “Wow, not even a thank you?”

He lowers his voice, practically growling at her, “My dear, if you’d allow me to properly thank you, you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Maybe not for the next week, if I’m feeling generous.”

A pretty little flush once again spreads across her face. He’s rather pleased with himself, thinking he’s finally stunned her.

“And if you weren’t feeling generous?”

Rising to meet him, then. She is playing a very dangerous game.

Astarion closes what little distance there is left between them and grabs her face by the jaw, grip firm . The force has her stumbling, the back of her thighs meeting the hard edge of the table. Wood digs into her skin as the legs grate loudly against his decorative rugs, shifting from the sudden push.

Evelyn’s eyes shut, brows furrowed and panting as she clutches his forearms to steady herself.

To his wicked delight, she does not pull away.

His thumb drags over her bottom lip. The effort she’s expending not to whine at his gentle touch has him reeling. Her skin burns beneath his palms.

“Then, I’d strip you, tie your limbs to this desk,” he murmurs against her lips, before tilting to whisper his confession hot in her ear.

“And you wouldn’t be leaving this tent. Ever . ”

He abruptly releases her, turning away and waving her off.

“Now, go. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Not sparing the woman a glance, he begins gathering his books and setting them back onto the table beside her.

She says nothing in response, but he hears her tear open the entrance to his tent and step out into the night.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur's gate oc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion acunin #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion fanfic #evelyn

85 notes · View notes

polifandom · 14 days

Text

snippet from a wip of a buck/bucky oneshot of mine. enjoy ;)

Gale is quiet. He keeps to himself, doesn't drink, doesn't party, doesn't smoke. He never got in John's way and never tried to get inside the room when the other placed a sock on the handle. He doesn't listen to loud music, doesn't talk in his sleep, doesn't snore. He was always a gentleman to whoever John did have in the room when he forgot to put the sock. He never walked around indecent.

John, logically, recognized he was hot – but Gale wasn't really his type. John liked 'em messy, adicted, loud, horny. The type that he knew could take John breaking their heart, because it was inevitable that he would. The type that looked like they liked being hit in the face, that would hit John back.

Gale looked like none of those. He was elegant, eloquent. A lider, an example. A gentleman. He didn't step a foot out of line, didn't say a word he didn't mean. Didn't scream, didn't fight. He's perfect, in all the ways that matter and don't – not a hair out of place.

John couldn't deny he was hot, because who can? But John needed messy. Needed adrenaline, rush. He doubted Gale could give him that – not that he had shown any interest to.

And then, John fucking saw it.

They were friends already, in their second year being roomates. Gale had become one of his closest friends, despite all odds – they were nothing alike, but they fit. John liked his company, despite the stick Gale constantly had up his ass.

And then, for the first time ever, Gale decided to change with him in the room.

John had never seen him shirtless, ever. He doubted Gale was insecure (because look at him!), so he just assumed it was yet another of Gale's antics – not changing in front of others and allat. Gale, the gentleman.

And then he did.

His back was facing John, so as soon as Gale started lifting his shirt, the new one already in hand, John saw it.

From the end of his neck to the start of his hip, Gale was fucking full of tattoos.

Gale fucking Cleven, who excuses himself every time he sneezes, who says sorry when someone bumps into him, who is fucking perfect – has his entire back tattoed.

Amongst the tattoos, from the small time frame between taking the shirt out and putting the new one, John spotted a skull, a snake, a dagger, an airplane, roses, a chain, and the biggest of them all; a buck who's antlers go from shoulder to shoulder.

And then, when John believed there couldn't be anything he could be more shocked about, Gale turned to him as he pulled his new shirt down, and during the split second his chest was exposed facing John, he saw a fucking piercing on Gale's fucking nipple.

And from that point on, John was done for. There was nothing else he could think about, masturbate to, daydream of.

Just Gale. Gale and his tattoos and nipple piercing. Gale, Gale, Gale.

this one hasnt been posted yet, but i already have a clegan oneshot up!! you can check it out here <3

#buck x bucky #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #john egan #gale cleven #clegan #masters of the air #mota #snippet #fanfic

33 notes · View notes

kudzuoath · 7 months

Text

Needful Things

With the reappearance of symptoms foretelling of his arcane hunger, Gale seeks out the party’s paladin to plead his case. He needs help. Hopefully Odette is the kind of person he believes her to be.

Or, Gale and Odette experience mutual attraction and care. Neither one of them acknowledges it.

—

The party’s paladin was taciturn, and brutal on the field of battle. Not someone he typically would have felt drawn to. But then he watched the way Odette interacted with the tiefling children at the grove. Kindly. With a soft voice and a reassuring hand.

Or in the case of the little helion Mol, with a grin and a witty rejoinder that came to her lips as if it were second nature.

There were other things, too. The way she threw herself headlong into danger, flaming greatsword first, the moment she spotted someone in need. How she treated each battle like a game of lanceboard – or the way she carefully handled and collected the books they came across in their travels.

That last bit was the first thing he’d noticed actually – only someone who loved them the way he did would handle them with such care. Even the copies she set back down. It’s not what he expected from a warrior – though perhaps he was letting his biases get the better of him with that.

There was something about her. Under the blood and the bared teeth and the black tattoos covering her neck and forearms. A cleverness. A curiosity. And tying it all together, a surprising kindness.

So one evening in camp he approached her. She was sitting close to the fire, hunched over a tome they’d found in the ruined temple of Jergal.

“That looks like a fascinating read,” he said, unable to help himself.

Odette startled. She nearly took his leg out with her tail when it whipped back and forth. “What?”

“The book?”

“Oh – oh. Yes.” With a faint frown, she closed it and gave him her full attention. Her mismatched eyes were curious – but wary. Not unusual for her, he’d noticed. Though he had also just managed to sneak up on her.

“Did – you need something, Gale?”

“Well, all this travel and adventure has made it somewhat difficult to find my moment, but there’s something rather important I need to speak with you about – if you would be inclined to listen to me this fine evening.”

“Isn’t everything these days?” She gestured at the log she’d perched on, the faintest of half smiles breaking through her stoicism. “Have a seat. Unspool your woes. You won't be the first.”

He itched to ask more about the book. But that wasn’t what he was here for. “How shall I begin… ah! Yes! The beginning. You see, since you freed me from that stone I found myself trapped in I have seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage –”

Her smile dropped for some reason. And – was her gaze a little frosty all of the sudden? Did she not believe him?

“ – The way you diffused the tension between Aradin and Zevlor! How you convinced Kagha to release the girl. Or charged in to save that boy from those harpies. And you’ve demonstrated a fair amount of temperance as well – many a paladin would have run that fellow at the bottom of Jergal’s temple through, even though he’d shown no will to harm us! In short, I’ve grown to trust you, Odette.”

Silence. For several seconds that, by the third one, were starting to send prickles of unease down his spine. My but didn’t this woman have a stare on her that could freeze fire! The thing was, he couldn’t see what he’d done to invite it.

Though… perhaps it was just her face? It wasn’t the first time. She only really seemed to gentle around the very young, or very vulnerable. Perhaps it took conscious effort to do so.

“I see.” Another pause. “You’re being genuine, aren’t you?”

He balked. “Of course I am! I am many things, but I’ve never been accused of lying about my feelings towards others.”

That faint smile returned, and she let out a soft little laugh under her breath. She shook her head and ran a hand through her short raven curls with a sigh. “No, you wouldn’t would you? You have my apologies, Gale. I’m not particularly used to people being so complimentary.”

“With how often you save people?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Gratitude and… flattery are different things, I think. Or… compliments, isn’t it? That’s what they are when they’re genuine…” This last bit was to herself.

He might have been offended if not for how clearly baffled she was. Personally, he didn’t know what to make of her reaction. It was… odd. And it made him wonder what she’d been doing before the Nautiloid captured them. What roads had their Paladin walked? And what Oath now kept her?

“Well, nevertheless,” he said, pushing forward. “The reason I make a point of saying this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I’ve yet to tell another living soul. Except for my cat.”

She turned to face him fully now. The only hint of emotion he could glean from her face was in the tilt of her head, and the slight furrow beginning to form between her brows. His heart leapt into his throat as the moment came to bear down on him. This was it. He may well find himself a wizard alone. And he was no Elminster – particularly not now, between the tadpole and the orb.

“You see I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share. And just as deadly.”

“Can it be cured?” she asked. Immediate, serious. She was sitting at attention and leaning in, examining him with fresh eyes and real, visible concern. He noted the moment she spotted the darkened veins around his eye, and began to follow them down to where they vanished under his shirt. Surely not the first time they’d been noticed. But the first they might hold her any significance.

The way she looked at him. Ready to leap to his aid. It made his throat feel a little tight. And brought to mind his befeathered and bewhiskered friend back in Waterdeep.

“No, it cannot be cured,” he said softly. Swallowing around a lump in his throat. He cleared it and sat up straighter himself. “And I can assure you I left no page unturned in reaching that conclusion.”

Odette seemed to draw back slightly as he said this, eyes shuttered. Something he couldn’t blame her for, given he’d all but told her his days were numbered. Woe betide them all should she learn of exactly how numbered all of their days might be, purely by virtue of his company.

Though that revelation… that one he’d keep close to the chest a while longer. If he were very lucky – lucky enough to survive the tadpole, and find his way back to his tower – she need never know the extent of the threat he posed.

“I can keep this condition under control, as indeed I've done for a significant amount of time! But that was under different circumstances altogether. Home, in Waterdeep.”

“Gale… stop blowing hot air and tell me what you need.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and her hands were fists in her trousers.

“What it comes down to is this,” he said, holding up a finger. He was patently unable to give up his habit of lecturing. Particularly with his nerves strung tight enough to snap and his heart a throbbing drum trying to choke him. He trusted her. He could only hope she proved worthy of it. He thought she would. Hoped.

“Every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside.”

There.

“...Are you telling me you’re addicted to magic?” Odette said. Her voice was flat, toneless. But her hands were no longer fists.

“What? No – no. It’s nothing like that. Magic isn’t some – some narcotic to me. It’s literally a lifesaver.”

She stared at him. “It’s not that I doubt you – only that I’ve seen what can happen to people addicted to drink when they go too long without it.” Her voice darkened. “What they can do to people. And how, ultimately, the lack of it can kill them.”

The unfortunate thing was, she had a point with that comparison. Even if it didn't apply here.

“Were it an addiction, it might provide some other benefit than keeping me alive,” he said. And realized a moment after doing so that technically, it did. In that it was also keeping everyone and everything else in his vicinity alive and intact. But – no. Not that. Not now. “It is more a salve for a burn, medicine for an infection – though it wont cure what ails me.”

A new tension in her shoulders drained away. “I see.”

“I would not burden anyone other than myself with this were the stakes not so high, and the means of obtaining such artifacts challenging for a humble wizard to face alone.” He leaned forward. Fear sawed at him now. He hadn’t expected her to agree outright of course – he still didn’t. But he had to absorb something, and soon. Elsewise all might well be lost, tadpole be damned. “It’s been a tenday at least since I last consumed an artifact – since before we were abducted. It’s only a matter of time before my craving returns.”

In truth, he could feel it already. An unpleasant tingling numbness deep in his chest. One that made his heart beat just slightly out of tune. That froze his lungs. It was only a bit of morning frost at the moment. But all too soon he would be reduced to gasping on his back, hands pressed to his chest as if that might hold the snarling demon within at bay.

“That is why I turn to you, I need you to help me find magic items to consume,” he said. Intense. Unable to help himself even though he’d planned the rational facade. His hand was pressed over his hammering heart, fingers clawed in his shirt. The memory of what was soon to come biting under his palm. “It is vital. Dare I say it, critical.”

There weren’t words to describe the danger. His panic at perhaps being rejected. He would turn to petty thievery if he must. Not for his own sake, but for the sake of every living being around them, should it come to that. He would need them, if only to clear enough ground so as to minimize the hells he would unleash in his death.

Odette was watching him with a new wariness. His intensity had perhaps been… a little much. But once he’d noticed that creeping hunger in his chest… the panic had taken root in his tongue. Though it might prove needful. And may well have served to illustrate his genuine need better than if he’d managed to remain collected.

“Where are we going to find these items?” she said.

That wasn’t a no.

“We’ve already done the finding – in fact you have one in your possession as we speak.” He gestured to where her greatsword lay. It glowed like a dying ember, even sheathed. “You know for yourself how hardwon such an item was and it will be no easier when even more are required to assuage my hunger.”

As he’d said before – he was no liar. He wouldn’t pretend this would be easy. The least of what he owed her was that honesty.

“There will be danger involved. Or great cost.”

Odette’s eyes had remained on her sword as he spoke. He’d heard the tale of how she’d gotten it. On the Nautiloid. From a devil. His understanding was that it had been a difficult battle, barely won and only undertaken out of sheer desperation with the temporary alliance of her illithid captors. Giving her allies the time they needed to reach the alien transponder that had ultimately dumped them all into this wilderness.

She let out a long sigh, and unsheathed the weapon. Flames danced up and down the blade, merrily viscous. Its sudden heat made the night air steam slightly around them. Very carefully, she offered him the hilt, and met his gaze.

“Take it."

Gale’s mouth didn’t quite fall open, but it was near thing. He stared at the sword instead.

And then his panic melted away like so much snow falling on a wildfire. He’d expected… well. He hadn’t known what to expect. But Odette disarming herself was not among them. He’d been right. As he typically was of course. Right to trust her. Right to tell her. Like his panic, his tension drained too. And all at once the symptoms of his hunger felt far less pressing.

For indeed, they were less pressing. It was the fear. There was still time. And to feed it too soon… it might upset the balance. Might increase its need to consume. He would have a hard enough time keeping up with it as things were. No need to tempt fate.

“I knew I could count on you!” he said. “And – and utterly pleased as I am by your enthusiasm, there is still time. I did not leave things quite until the last moment. I’m a good deal cleverer than that! Keep your weapon for now. Perhaps we shall find something less dear to be parted with. Faerun overflows with magically infused treasure after all!”

Odette considered him for a moment, but re-sheathed her sword.

Then, in a move that made his heartbeat stutter she set her hands on his shoulders and squeezed lightly.

“Thank you. For asking for help, Gale. I know… it’s not an easy thing.”

Her gaze was as true as her heart was. And he found himself wondering how he’d written her off, no matter how briefly. A wizard she was not. But perhaps she was something just as good. A truly, deeply, decent soul. No matter her viciousness in a fight.

“Nor your promise to sacrifice these items, Odette,” he said, his voice dropping with softness unfeigned. “I know what I am asking –”

“There’ll always be magic daggers and enchanted rings,” she said, cutting him off. “You’re the only Wizard of Waterdeep I know, though. Don’t…” she swallowed. He caught a glimpse of an old pain on her face. One that made those eyes – one brown and one purple – look so lightless he might have been frightened had the emotion not been so clearly one of hurt. Her grip tightened slightly on his shoulders and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. When she finished her thought, it was in a whisper soft voice. “Don’t kill yourself with your silence.

He lifted his hands to cover hers. “Believe me, I shan’t be quiet should my need arise.”

“Good.”

For a moment, they watched each other. And Gale couldn’t help but think of how long it had been since mortal hands – or the hands of anyone at all – had touched him. There had only been Tara. His heart beat stuttered as he looked at the planes of her face, illuminated by the firelight. It was a beautiful sight. He found himself wishing to stroke his thumb over the black flame tattooed on her forehead for some odd reason. Or better, to follow the curved pattern of dark flames along her jaw with his fingertips.

Odette was smiling back at him, and there was a softness there. But then she seemed to notice their closeness. She let go of him abruptly and pulled back. Put distance between them as she busied herself with setting aside her sword, with repacking the book.

He was all at once given the impression of many doors closing and locking one after another. By the time she turned back to look at him, her face was settled back into its normal vaguely intimidating neutrality.

“I should try to get some sleep,” she said. “And so should you. We need to find where those bloody goblins have holed up with the Druid. Interesting as that ruin turned out, our new friend is not the cure we’ve been looking for.”

“Indeed not,” he agreed, standing. He recognized a dismissal, no matter how kindly given. He made a dramatic gesture and half bowed. “Dear lady, may you sleep the sleep your kindness so richly deserves!”

She let out a surprised laugh, that mask breaking again. “And may you rest your eternally wagging tongue, dear wizard.”

A dig, but she said it with a fondness he found gratifying. He wasn’t unaware of his talkative nature, when he’d been given half the chance to chatter. Good that she seemed to like it.

“I shall do my very best to oblige.”

Gale returned to his tent with a lightness in his heart most unfamiliar, and a smile he would have been hard pressed to extinguish.

#gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #gale/tav #named tav #tiefling tav #paladin tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #my writing #crossposted to AO3 #featuring vague story based justifications for taking the devil comanders sword #also remixed canon dialogue #i love this wizard disaster #also some of you know of odette #yes i made her a tiefling even though the screenshots are half-elf #i wanted to used different face options without modding

68 notes · View notes

fangsandfeelings · 1 month

Text

Repercussions (Zhentarim Tease pt.2)

Gale x Tav/fem reader x Astarion

Light gagging | PinV | oral (his and hers) | revenge sex (consensual)

Word count : 1,937 (it’s a longy sorry)

You thought you got away with teasing Gale and Astarion in the Zhentarim Hideout. They see things quite differently, and are eager to show you how they feel about it. :)))

———————————

You had gotten away with it. You had gotten away with teasing the wizard that contained an orb that could obliterate you in an instant and a 200 year old vampire who had already killed you once (albeit by accident).

Neither of them had said a word to you about the encounter either after the hideout nor in camp afterwards. Gale had even been so kind as to cook your favorite dinner for you, baked potato soup! You quietly chuckled to yourself in disbelief that the boys hadn’t gotten on to you about your playing, you might even be a little suspicious of it, had you not been so proud of yourself.

Full bellied and content, you sat in front of the campfire and looked into the orange flames, dreaming of what other little games you could play on the two males. You were at peace, the camp quiet and still. Which, now come to think of it, was very strange. No argument between Gale and Astarion over whether Gales book collection should be used as kindling or not? No droning whir of magic projections as Gale takes in his appearance over multiple crawling minutes? Not even a laugh from Karlach as she watches either of them struggle to open a jar of vegetables?

You’re just being paranoid, surely you could all enjoy one peaceful night at camp, no bickering or fighting. You shook your head as you walked back to your tent, not caring to notice the flap had been shut since you last left it.

You poked your head in, your eyes adjusting to the darkness, when cool, strong hands held a rag over your mouth and roughly pulled you into the tent. You landed on your bedroll, with what felt like a couple of extra pillows around you, pillows you recognized from…..Gales tent?

Sooner than you could look around or try to wiggle free, a usually silky smooth voice, now laced with darkness and lust purrs in your ear.

“Tsk, look at you darling, poor thing. All tensed up, when you should be relaxing in your tent. You did have an awfully fun day today. You need the rest.” A shiver ran down your spine at his last words, you were pretty sure rest was not in the cards tonight.

Either you were about to get revenge fucked, or you were about to die.

A deep rumbling from across the tent caught your attention, followed by a small dim stream of blue light, whirling around your heads. Gales features were illuminated, and he sat across from you, elbows on his knees.

“Don’t worry Astarion. She got plenty of her favorite dinner tonight. I’d say she’s got strength to spare.” He lifted himself onto his knees in front of you, undoing the first few clasps of his robe.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to the tattoo on his upper chest, and the way it delicately curled up his neck. Your eyes followed its trail until you met his gaze, his eyes darkening.

You felt yourself get wet already, just from Gale opening his shirt a little…oh Gods….. this was going to be a long night.

Astarion pulled you closer to his chest, his thighs cradling either side of your butt as you sat in front of him on your bedroll. The hand he wasn’t using to hold a rag over your mouth slithered over the crease of your hip and rested right between your legs. Putting just enough pressure to cause your core to instinctively clench, but staying light enough that you groaned in frustration at the lack of friction.

“We just want to talk about your actions today.” Gale said, his voice now huskier than usual. Astarion hummed in agreement behind you.

“Surely you know that it’s not kind to tease.’ Gale said softly, hands moving to the waistband of your trousers. He gently pulled them down and off, leaving you only in your underwear and top. You feel your skin prickle from the cool air touching it.

Astarion occupies his now free hand with your right breast, easily cupping it in his palm. You moan softly against the rag, and he grips slightly harder in response.

Gale lowers himself between your legs, you feel them tremble from another clench at your core. He laughs lowly as he rubs his nose on either side of your lips, the fabric of your underwear smoothing the sensation into a vague blur. It’s enough though, enough to have you bucking your hips toward him, and to have him backing up and shaking his finger at you .

“Mmm, I wouldn’t try anything without Mr. Dekarios’ permission.” Astarion purred. Truly unbelievable, that these two could agree on anything, much less work together for your ruin.

“P-please” you manage to get out through the rag. Gale lifted his eyebrows, shooting a gaze at Astarion, signaling for him to lift the rag from your mouth.

“Make sure to use your inside voice darling.” Astarion growled. You nodded and held back another moan. He pulled his hand away and you sucked in a breath, your voice coming out rasped and shakey.

“Please do that again…..Mr. De-karios” Gale looked at you with something like pity. Then signaled to Astarion to put the rag back in place.

“I want to be very clear with you” he said, looking into your eyes and lowering himself again, “you are not to make requests, unless you need us to stop. Do you understand?” He looked up from between your legs, and you feel Astarions cock start to harden against your back.

“You had it your way earlier in the day, now it’s our turn. Although with the knowledge that we’ve shared with each other,” his eyes flicked from you to Astarion, then back “I can assure you, you won’t have any complaints.”

Without another word, Gale started using his nose once again on either side of your lips. His warm hands wrapped around your thighs, offering an interesting contrast to Astarions cool one cupped over your breast.

Gale pressed a kiss over your panties, right over where your clit was under the fabric. You rolled your head back, letting it fall on Astarions shoulder. You heard Astarion growl, quickly pressing his lips to your now exposed neck. Warm electricity thrummed through you, causing you to wriggle a little, desperately wanting to get more friction.

Seemingly detecting your thoughts, Gale pulled your underwear to the side, finally letting his tongue slide between your folds. He groaned into you, giving you a delicious moment of vibration before he continued licking your core.

He allowed you to roll your hips as needed, holding you firmly by your hips but not forcing you to be still. Astarion continued kissing your neck, his erection nearly painful on your back.

“Darling….” He mumbled against your skin “do you mind if I….” You already knew what he was asking, and you quickly nodded your head in response. You felt his lips smile against your neck, and a moment later, a faint cry escaped you when he pressed his fangs into you.

You could feel both boys tongues, similar, but each so different in their approach. Gale stayed firm but tender and gentle, clearly enjoying his moment, but more focused on his technique. While Astarion licked and lapped without thought, allowed his body to move for him, giving in to his lust like it was second nature.

You moaned deeply against the rag, which earned a finger inside of you from Gale, and Astarion sliding his hand to grasp your bare breast under your shirt. Gale pumped slowly at first, taking care to curl his finger ever so slightly until you could feel the pressure start to build between your thighs. At some point Astarion stopped feeding on you, and instead ground himself on you while licking your wound clean.

The sensations you were feeling all at once threatened to push you over your edge, and just as you were about to cum, you felt an absence in your lips, and a stillness inside of you. Gale looked up at you, his eyes darker than you had ever seen them, and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh.

You heaved a sigh and whimpered through your rag,not able to tear your eyes away from the wizard. Before you could protest, Astarion gently pushed you forward, and he swapped places with Gale who was now behind you.

Astarion quickly yanked down his trousers, not even bothering to take them all the way off, settling with them falling at his knees. He pulled you until you were on your hands and knees in front of him, and Gale grabbed your hips from behind as he rubbed his hard cock into your lips.

Astarion offered the tip of his length for you, using one of his hands to cup your cheek.

“So so pretty.” His cooing was enough fuel for you to lean forward and take his tip into your mouth. He let a breathy moan escape, throwing his head back as you smiled around his cock.

You started moving faster, enjoying the little amount of control you had gained in the moment. Your lips lifting into a smile, until you felt Gale give you a hint of forewarning with his own tip at your entrance.

As soon as he thrust into you, you leaned even farther forward, almost choking on Astarions length. He huffed out a surprised moan as you accidentally deep throated him, and hollowed your cheeks on the way back up.

Gale murmured an apology for not warning you better, but it was quickly lost in the echos of hissed gasps and low moans that filled the tent. You added your hand with your mouth to Astarions cock, feeling your release quickly approaching. The sight of Astarion starting to come undone and Gales cock pumping in and out of you was pushing you faster and faster to the point of no return.

It didn’t take long with your hand until you heard Astarion hiss your name and place both of his hands on either side of your head, his hands tangled in your hair. It was all you needed to start your own release, moaning onto his cock, feeling his cum fill your mouth. You swallowed, not wanting the mess, and knowing it would earn you extra points as well.

Gale was still pushing into you, bottoming out as you came, going harder and faster than you expected he would. The moan that escaped his throat when he finally came was beautiful, you had never been with Gale before this night, so you looked back in awe, watching as his hips slowed, and he panted and mumbled your name.

You closed your eyes to take in the moment, Gale still hard inside you, Astarion leaning back on his heels in front of you, hands still in your hair. I’d this what your punishment was for teasing them?

You all cleaned up lazily, and fell onto the bedroll, a boy on either side of you. Astarion laid on his side towards you, Gale on his back, as he conjured up a personal starry sky on the inside of your tent.

“Quite beautiful…..maybe the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” It was almost a whisper coming from Astarions lips, half of Gales mouth shrugged up in triumph.

“Well, you should see what I can do with -…..” you didn’t hear the rest of what Gale was saying, because you saw that when he said it, Astarion was looking right at you.

#astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x female oc #astarion x original female character #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x the dark urge #gale x female reader #gale x tav #galexastarionxreader #bg3 gale #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

39 notes · View notes